by C. C. Mahon
“I don’t want to sound egocentric, but I’m positive he’s here for me. To get revenge. But he’s gonna want to challenge the other local big hitters along the way. And your family is one of the most powerful on the Strip.”
“The most powerful,” he corrected distractedly. “Yes, if your Carver is as narcissistic as you say, he’ll want to go up against my father.” He let out a long sigh and gave me a resigned look. “I’d better warn him. Things could escalate.”
“How so?”
“If my father ignores who is responsible for the attack, he could go after one of the other families in Vegas. And if on the other hand he waits for more information before acting, his competitors could think that it’s an admittance of weakness and take advantage of it. In all cases, it risks devolving into a gang war, and no one wants to relive that.”
He quickly washed his hands and got his phone out of his jacket. I let him make his phone call and went back behind the bar, wondering if Daddy vampire’s intervention in this thing was a good thing or a disaster.
21
The night was coming to an end when an icy chill made its way up my spine.
It wasn’t caused by the air conditioning.
I turned around in search of what wasn’t right. The room wasn’t full anymore, but most of the tables were still in use. Gertrude was serving the room. Behind the bar, Enola was doing well for a beginner. So what was…
He entered the room as if it was conquered land. My body recognized him before my brain did, and my stomach came up into my throat. Doubled over, I had to grip the counter to straightened myself.
Callum Carver was exposing himself to the public gaze, in all his glory: salt and pepper hair, broad shoulders, slim hips in a tux that would’ve fit better at a Hollywood award ceremony than in a bar. He cast a conquering gaze across the room.
A woman was hanging off his arm. A figure-hugging dress highlighted her thinness. Her brown hair put up in a bun showed off her slim and pale neck. She wore too much make-up for her age. Seeing her gave me another punch to the gut. Looking at her was like looking at an old picture. This girl, she was me, two years earlier. Same silhouette, same hair, same expression.
Callum’s eyes stopped on me, and the rest of the universe faded away. No more sound, no more movement, not even the beating of my own heart. I was like a deer in the headlights.
“Rebecca, my dear!” exclaimed Callum. “I’m so happy to see you again.”
I dug my nails into the palm of my hand and assembled enough courage to answer. “It’s Erica, now.”
He swatted away the objection with a wave of the hand. “You work here? Waitress, I suppose?”
He very well knew that I was the owner; I didn’t doubt it for a minute. I refused to take the bait and kept quiet. He took advantage of that to continue. “It’s very…um…working class.”
I felt my heart beat at the base of my throat. Which explained why it seemed so difficult for me to talk. I had kept a hand on the counter, and I clung to it with the vigor of a castaway. My head was spinning so much that without that, I would have fallen at Callum’s feet.
That idea sparked up the rage in me again. I inhaled, determined to tell him to leave. He didn’t give me time to.
“You could have so much better than this place. A luxury club on the Strip, dozens of employees. You wouldn’t have to bartend yourself anymore.”
“Get out,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Hmm? Did you say something?”
“She told you to get out,” intervened Matteo.
The vampire had joined us without me noticing. Gertrude was standing behind him. She was gripping her magical hammer, looking fierce. That expression on the troll’s face comforted me more than anything. Even the geek with the heart of gold was ready to fight for me. I couldn’t let her down. I tried again, louder this time.
“You’re not welcome here. Leave.”
Callum feigned a hurt expression. “And I was coming here with a gift. Look…” With a shove, he dislodged the girl hanging from his arm and pushed her in my direction. “I learned that you had lost your dryad, and I found you another one to replace her.”
The girl in question looked just as surprised as me. She clearly wasn’t expecting this turn of events in her evening. She shot a pleading look at Carver, opened her mouth as if to talk to him, and changed her mind at the last second. I knew why: Callum’s women didn’t have the right to speak to him unless he spoke to them first.
“The girl can stay,” I said. “You leave.”
This time, my voice was firm. Callum’s face transformed. Gone were the mask of kindness and the movie star smile. His eyes hardened, and anger twisted his mouth.
“You little whore, you think you can order me around? Have you forgotten who I am? I’ll make you regret your insolence.”
Matteo grabbed him by the back of the neck, and Callum stiffened. The vampire’s eyes went wide. Callum shook himself free and turned towards Matteo.
“Mind your own business, loser!”
Gertrude took a few steps forward. Without a word, she stood in front of Callum, invading his personal space. Her hammer was glistening in the subdued lights.
“Out,” she said.
A single word, spoken calmly.
Callum took a step back. Gertrude took another step forward.
“Your monsters can’t protect you, Rebecca!” declared Callum.
He completely disappeared behind Gertrude’s silhouette. The troll was small for her kind, but she was still almost seven feet tall.
“You’re mine,” spat Callum again. “Soon you’ll beg me to take you back.”
Gertrude pushed him back towards the exit. The customers formed a gauntlet, and several followed them up the stairs. The dryad stayed in front of me for a few moments then burst into tears and hurried after her master, tripping over her too-high heels. I stayed gripping the counter, my heart racing. Matteo came over and took me by the elbow.
“We need to talk,” he said.
I followed him into the empty back room and let myself fall into a booth.
“Thank you for stepping in,” I breathed.
“Gertrude told me. I hadn’t felt your emotions. Sorry.”
“Is that what’s bothering you? Not feeling the incoming storm?”
He briefly shook his head. “You did tell me that Carver was human?”
“As far as I know.”
“You might have to reconsider that. When I grabbed him by the neck, I tried to absorb his emotions…”
“And?”
“There was nothing.”
“He’s a psychopath. Emotions aren’t his thing.”
“He was angry in that moment; you could see it. But I wasn’t able to access his rage. Or anything else. I didn’t feel anything. Erica, that guy isn’t human.”
“You’re sure it’s not coming from you? After fasting for so long, maybe you’ve lost your touch?”
He looked away.
“You are still fasting?” I asked, suddenly doubtful.
“Not exactly,” he admitted.
“You gave up on your principles?”
“Let’s say I understood I could help people. Like when I rid you of your fear.”
“You’re giving people therapy now?”
“One person. And I’m not giving her therapy. I’m just relieving her a bit.”
“But…you feel the emotions you feed on, don’t you? So…”
“It’s not that bad. It doesn’t last long. It relieves…the person, and it allows me to sustain myself. It’s not that bad, is it?”
I raised my arms as a sign of surrender. “Not at all. That’s great for you and this mysterious person.”
“The important thing right now is that Carver isn’t human. I don’t know what he is, but we’ll have to be even more careful.”
I ran a trembling hand through my hair. “I should’ve asked him about the missing people. And Phoebe. I’m sure he’s linked to all this
, but I don’t understand how or why. I had a chance to make him talk, and I let him take off without asking him anything.”
“He isn’t necessarily behind all the bad things that happen in the community,” said Matteo. “We also need to look at the wolves.”
“I saw two of the wolves go into Callum’s building,” I said. “Everything is linked. I’m sure of it.”
“What do you want to do? We can stop him from coming into the club again. To start with, I’m going to have a few words with our Big Teddy Bear to teach him how to do his job as a bouncer. Then I assume the Guild can modify the protections to directly target Carver. If you let us take care of deliveries, you shouldn’t have any reason to worry about Carver anymore.”
Hiding behind my magical protections and my employees had been my plan when I’d arrived in Vegas. Now that Callum was backing me into a corner, I realized that that wasn’t going to be enough for me. Knowing that this man was living in the same city as me made me nauseous.
“I want him gone,” I said. “I want him to give us back Patricia and Kitty, to pack his bags and leave Las Vegas and never come back.”
“Sweet,” said a voice behind Matteo. “Can we tar and feather him before kicking him out?”
Lizzie stuck her head out of the alcove in which she had been hiding until then. The “modern feminist witch” had stuck her pencils in her messy bun, and the side of her nose was stained black—ink, I supposed.
“Now is not the time for joking,” said Matteo in a somber tone that I didn’t recognize.
Lizzie got up to come join us.
“Oh, but I’m not joking!” she said. “I heard the end of the conversation in the other room. I don’t know who this guy is, but he seems plenty detestable. So if you need a hand for a banishing spell, I volunteer. I can also lob grimoires at his head until he leaves you alone. I often do that with my familiar. I have rather good aim.”
“You’re actually a witch?” I said.
She pouted. “I’m not a member of the Guild, so I don’t have the right to that title. Let’s say I read a lot and that I like to put into practice what I learn.”
“Price?” asked Matteo.
Lizzie bit the corner of her mouth, apparently caught off guard.
“You’ve never sold your services,” I said.
“There’s a first for everything!”
“So you don’t have a permit,” said Matteo.
She looked him over with a piercing gaze. “Are you going to turn me in to Customs?”
“No,” I said. “We won’t turn anyone in. Right, Matteo?”
He nodded without conviction.
“Although…” I started again. “Could we maybe turn Callum in?”
“For what crime?” asked Lizzie.
“What does Customs regulate? Ebbs and flows? What does that mean exactly?”
“Magic is considered as a source of energy,” said Matteo. “Precious, vital for many, but extremely unstable. It flows around us, mainly along the lines that they call ley lines. They’re kind of like underground rivers flowing with magic. Vegas is built on the convergence of several ley lines, which makes it a particularly attractive place for supernaturals but also very volatile. An imbalance of magic could cause a catastrophe. That’s what Customs is trying to prevent.”
“What kind of catastrophe?” I asked.
“Like a magical Chernobyl,” interjected Lizzie.
Matteo nodded with a serious look.
“I’m not sure I understand what a magical Chernobyl would be,” I said.
“I don’t think anyone knows,” he said. “My father pays particular attention to the Customs’ activities to get the best deal for his various businesses. Even he’s unsure of the actual dangers. But he doesn’t want to take the risk of setting off that cataclysm. And if it scares my father…it must be bad.”
“That nasty piece of work,” said Lizzie, “he just got to town? And he’s not human? Did he request his residency permit?”
I tried to imagine Callum lining up in the Customs’ offices to ask for a permit from a bunch of civil servants.
“I’d be surprised,” I said.
“It’s a start,” said Lizzie. “Don’t you think?”
“Who’s gonna turn him in?” asked Matteo.
Lizzie took a step back. “Not me.”
“Trouble with the law?” I asked.
“Not as long as they don’t know I exist.”
“Erica,” said Matteo, “it would be best that you didn’t attract any attention to yourself.”
“Will you do it?” I asked.
“I already sent an anonymous message to the IRS. I’ve reported enough. No, let’s ask Big Teddy Bear up there to take care of it. After all, it was his job to stop that guy from getting in here. He fucked up, so now he’s going to take responsibility.”
22
ONCE AGAIN, LOLA’s phone call pulled me from my bed at an indecent hour.
“You do remember I work nights?” I asked as I picked up.
“Oh, thank God, you’re alive.”
Fatigue pulled back fully.
“What do you mean, ‘I’m alive’? What did you expect to have happened to me?”
“Have you had breakfast?”
“No, I WAS SLEEPING.”
“Good. I’m sending you a picture.”
I rubbed my eyes before looking at my screen and swore.
“Do you understand why I was worried?” asked Lola’s voice.
The photo showed a young brunette, molded in a sparkly evening gown. Her hair up in a bun highlighted the thinness of her neck. She was lying on the pavement; one of her heels was placed near her bruised face. She looked like she could have been my sister.
I pressed my phone to my ear again. “Where did you find her?”
“A few streets away from your place,” said Lola. “Do you know her?”
“She was a dryad. I don’t know her name. She came to the club last night with Callum.”
This time, it was Lola’s turn to swear.
“That piece of shit went to see you? Are you okay?”
“Better than this girl,” I said. “Do they know what happened to her?”
“Her windpipe was crushed,” said Lola. “We’ll have to wait for the coroner to examine her to know more.”
“He took revenge on her,” I said.
“Revenge for what?”
I explained to her how Callum had wanted to “offer” me the dryad as a replacement for Agatha and how I—no, how Gertrude—had thrown him out.
“Gertrude!” I exclaimed. “I have to see if she’d okay. And Matteo…”
“Call Gertrude,” said Lola. “I’ll take care of Matteo, and I’ll call you back after.”
She hung up before I could object. Bah! With the personal guards provided by his father, the vampire was probably safer than the rest of us.
Gertrude didn’t have a cellphone. In any case, in the middle of the day she must have been sleeping soundly. I decided to go over to her place to make sure everything was as it should be.
I had Gertrude’s address on her work contract, but I had never been there. I let my phone’s GPS guide me to a squalid alleyway in a disadvantaged neighborhood. The building dated back to the ’70s and hadn’t been renovated since. In the lobby, I found a mailbox with Gertrude’s name and the tag “-1.”
A narrow stairwell led to a concrete basement, half parking lot and half technician’s area/garbage-storage area. In a corner, I noticed a poster of the first Star Wars movie on a door, a design one hundred percent from the ’70s. No doubt: I had found Gertrude.
I knocked and didn’t get a response. Sticking my ear to the door, I thought I heard a leaf blower. No, breathing, slow and regular. The troll was sleeping. Everything seemed to be in order.
I scribbled a short note. “I came by to see you, but you’re sleeping. Be careful. Carver could try to get revenge against you. Call me as soon as you get this message—Erica.”
; I slid the note under the door and left, not without shooting several looks around me to make sure I was alone. Years after my escape, Callum was still making me fear my shadow.
I went around the garbage area to get back to the stairwell, asking myself if trolls had as good a sense of smell as humans. Poor Gertrude, forced to live in a stinky underground parking garage to protect herself from the sun…
I hurried up in my haste to regain the light of day and more breathable air. A small sound behind me caught my attention. I wanted to turn around. Too late. I immediately recognized the feeling of the blade against my throat. I had felt it all too often; it had become intimate. Just like the voice that was whispering in my ear.
“So, you little whore, you were looking for me?” He moved the blade of his weapon across my neck. “Admit that you missed this, our little games.”
I wanted to tell him where he could put his blade and his “games.” Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to. My mind had tied itself into a knot in the corner of my skull, abandoning my body to fend for itself. Unable to move, I trembled uncontrollably. The only reason I didn’t pee myself was that I hadn’t drank anything since the night before.
Callum pressed me harder against him, and my sword’s case pushed into my back.
“What have you got here?” he asked. He moved my hair and said, “The famous Valkyrie’s sword. How nice of you to bring it with you, two birds with one st—”
I felt the moment he placed his hand on the hilt of the sword, as if he had placed it on my skin. I felt the disgust of my sword at the contact, and the sword felt my anger. There was a flash, Callum yelled, and his knife clinked onto the ground of the parking garage.
I turned towards Callum, and my hand pulled out my sword without having to think about it.
Callum was two steps in front of me, doubled over. He was holding his wrist. His hand was red, his skin burned.
“I’ve changed,” I said. “I’m not your plaything anymore. Leave me alone if you don’t want me to show you what I’m capable of now.”
I sent a fleeting thought towards my weapon, and it caught fire in response.
Callum straightened up, looked us over for a moment, and broke out in a satisfied smile. He stretched out his burned hand, palm facing up. Under my eyes, the skin healed itself and regained its natural color.