Temptress

by Lola Dodge

  “Yes, ma’am. You’re buying-in to poker this evening?” She set out even stacks of black-striped $100 chips.

  “Is there an open seat?” Though I knew they were still playing, it was a little late to buy in to a new game.

  “Yes. One of the tables just finished a game. They’re restarting momentarily. Shall I take your chips over?”

  “Please,” I said.

  The girl bustled out of the cage, motioning for us to follow to the poker room. I pulled at Tank, slowing us down.

  “High-roller, huh?” Tank lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t know casino security paid that well. Maybe I should change careers.”

  “Like you could be anything other than a hero.” He was the one who’d asked me why I gave up the glory of the capture. Only a terminal hero would ever come up with that. “And we have to give the money back, so don’t blow it. Just play while I figure out who’s breaking the rules. Wait. Can you do this without your powers?” It hadn’t occurred to me sooner, but he’d have a hard time if he usually relied on mind reading.

  “I never used my powers for cards.” His voice was disapproving.

  “Just checking.” Though I probably should’ve known. I was definitely planning to use his powers, but I wasn’t in the game. From the sidelines, I’d be able to find the cheaters before the first round of drinks came out. Even so, I tapped two fingers against my neck, giving Steve the signal we were going in.

  The room reeked of money, and it had to if it wanted to justify the twenty grand buy-in. All mahogany and leather, the tables shined, and the few guests had more labels than a NASCAR race. One of the tables was just settling in, and the cage girl waited in front of an open seat with my chips and a Grey Goose martini. They knew me too well. I sipped and offered Tank the chair.

  “Anything for you, sir?” A table attendant slipped into the vacated spot by the cage girl’s departure.

  “Bruchladdich. 1970?"

  “Right away, sir.” The girl ducked away while I tried not to splutter. Scotch wasn’t my forte, but that had to be a few hundred dollars a glass. Apparently, he was serious about playing high roller.

  Whether it was the order or Tank’s voice, the men at the table turned and immediately recognized Mr. Hero. As the handshaking commenced, I slipped into a chair at the back of the room. I’d been wondering if we should play couple, but this would be easier. Pouty, overlooked girlfriend worked to my advantage.

  My earpiece crackled. “You’re on camera, but the signal’s shit. You’ve got Mr. Han on your right. He’s a regular.” That would be the Chinese businessman with the sultry redhead draped over his shoulder. “And Ron Merchant has played with us before. He’s in the tie. The other two are new players. Han and the blond cleaned up last game.”

  As I stirred my drink, I scoped out the table. Merchant was a big-time software guy that I recognized from the Wall Street Journal. He’d shaken Tank’s hand like they were in a boardroom before settling into his chair.

  The two men in the middle of the table were the suspected troublemakers. One was tall with straight-out-of-Scandinavia blond hair and blue eyes. The second was dark-skinned in a white suit and gold and diamond Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses that ran about four hundred grand a pair.

  “No powers during the game,” Tank assured the table as the dealer shuffled the deck. “You have my word.” The others nodded, but blondie was sweating.

  I closed my eyes, slipping into Tank’s powers with a deep breath. I managed not to wince. Blondie’s first hand was a pair of kings, but his internal monologue wasn’t so hot.

  —shit shit shit shit shit. Fucking Thinktank. He’ll see through me in thirty seconds. Dammit, Deena!

  The tone of his mental voice shifted, and the redhead with Mr. Han glanced his way. A telepath?

  Get Drake and Chance in here now! We’re gonna have to run.

  The redhead, Deena, leaned to whisper in Mr. Han’s ear, showing serious cleavage to the table before swaying away. I’ll get them. Keep it together.

  She seemed to be thinking at him rather than projecting, but there was no way to tell if she was super. She could be a civilian in on the scheme. Either way, it was nice of her to bring all the accomplices to one place. Drake even sounded familiar. Where had I heard that name before?

  I quieted my thoughts just in case Blondie swept the room, but he kept up his stream of curses as the game progressed. Kind of single-minded for a telepath.

  As soon as I set my empty glass on a side table, the attendant replaced it with a fresh one. This time I stirred but didn’t drink. I could hold my alcohol like any good super, but it had been a long night, and one more would be one too many.

  With his premium scotch and champion poker face, Tank was in his element. He won more than he lost, but the hands split evenly around the table. Merchant and Shades were doing as well as Tank, while Blondie and Mr. Han took a beating. Both of their chip stacks were shorter when Deena shimmied back into the room.

  No one had followed her, but a faint haze hung in the air like the heat that rose from asphalt. Blondie gave a mental sigh of relief. My gaze couldn’t lock on the patch, but it had to be something. Or someone? Not even X-ray vision would penetrate. Gritting my teeth against the headache, I concentrated Tank’s energy into a point.

  Two sets of thoughts bubbled from the gap. One was so full of statistics it made my teeth ache, while the second stole my breath.

  Jenny? Is that you?

  He wasn’t speaking to me, just thinking about me. But why did he know my name? And why was his mental voice so familiar? It had a southern twang that made my chest sting.

  Damn. You look better than I remember. Ah. And you can sense me too? Must’ve got yourself some new powers since I saw you last.

  I frowned and turned back to the table. Who was this? Blondie glanced over his shoulder. Drake! Damn it. Blank our thoughts before this guy crushes us!

  Thinktank, huh? We can do something about that, but he’s not the one you should be worried about…

  The thoughts fizzled out. All of them. The whole room. Blondie’s shoulders slumped, and even Deena relaxed, flashing more cleavage as she gave Mr. Han another whisper. As she glanced to Blondie, her gaze locked on mine for a second too long.

  My pulse kicked into overdrive. They knew who I was. If it came to a fight, it was four to two. Or four to one and a half. Maybe Tank could handle himself, but without his powers, he was at a disadvantage. Especially since we didn’t know what the others could do.

  I tugged my right ear. If the cameras were working, Steve would get his guys in position. If the invisible posse was also blocking the casino’s tech…then this was going to hit the fan hard. All I got from the earpiece was static.

  So much for backup.

  Drink in hand, I strode to the table. I brushed Tank’s shoulder on my way past. He’d figure out what to do. Or he’d be screwed.

  Blondie tensed when I slipped against his side. He could read my mind, but I couldn’t read his.

  Time to be unpredictable.

  Chapter Five

  I tossed my martini into the hazy, force field-esque patch and the minds that it was hiding. As the vodka sailed, I lit it with a spark of my fire power.

  The olives were toast.

  Flames silhouetted two figures, and the barrier slipped for a fraction of a second. A confused-looking office worker type guy stood in the shadow of a tall, green-eyed man who would’ve been a ten if not for his frosted tips. That had to be Drake. The source of the barrier.

  The defense slammed back, and the flames guttered. Blondie reached for his pocket, but I kicked back his chair before he could pull a weapon. I dove, pinning his arms to the floor as I stole my kiss.

  Deena made a grab for me, but Tank was quicker. He blurred with speed, wrenching her arms behind her.

  Blondie’s powers surged, shooting me into a giddy high. We were handling this. Between the two of us, we could take four.

  I left Blondie unconscious. As I lung
ed for the cloaked guys, one of my heels snapped and I crashed into the neighboring poker table, clocking myself in the chin.

  Tank shifted both of Deena’s hands into one of his and moved to help me up, but a light bulb fell from the ceiling. It shattered on the top of his head, and Deena broke away in the confusion.

  She darted for the blurred space. I rubbed my jaw and climbed to my feet as Deena disappeared into the void. The patch of haze blurred out of the room and onto the gaming floor.

  “They’re three!” I called to Tank as I moved to follow. “Hold Mr. Han.” Whatever they could do, Tank wasn’t up for it. Plus, we’d need some information from him. Not that I planned on letting the others get away.

  I started to throw up a barrier when a massive sneeze gripped my chest. The force of it shattered my concentration.

  What the hell was this?

  As I stumbled through a wave of sneezes, my second heel snapped.

  There was chance and then there was….

  Chance? That’s what Blondie called the second guy. Three guesses what his power was.

  Slanted odds or not, I was getting pissed. These assholes owed me a new pair of Jimmy Choos. No more playing around.

  I kicked off the heels and sprinted for it. Invisible or not, my targets were easy to follow. Every slot they passed spun to a jackpot, and shrieking crowds thronged into my path. Throwing on my own invisibility, I leapt into the air and flew over the chaos.

  As I neared a Porsche on a podium, an old lady yanked a lever. Her dials spun to three pictures of the car, triggering a massive blast of confetti and balloons.

  I tried to dodge, but it was like navigating a ticker-tape parade. Balloon strings tangled my arms and legs, and the old lady screamed and pointed. Others turned to gape and worse. They reached for cell phones. So much for invisibility.

  But I’d be damned if I was starring on Youtube.

  I let loose a superhuman scream, hitting octaves that would make Mariah Carey weep. I wanted to cry from the pain in my eardrums, but I was already screwed with the audience, and the baddies about to escape. I was going to have to dig deep into the bag of tricks I’d regret.

  As the balloons exploded from the noise, I flashed invisible again. A force field would’ve been perfect, but as soon as I thought it, I sneezed so hard I dropped and skimmed the top of an ornamental palm. The blur sped across the lobby toward the exit.

  Time for the big tricks. But which ones? I could summon a 9.0 on the Richter scale, but that wouldn’t bode well for the casino, or for the rest of Vegas. Any serious fireworks could hurt the crowds.

  A floor display for an upcoming event at Madame Tussauds stood near the exit. Jackpot for me.

  Focusing my will, I sent my commands to the wax figures. Oprah Winfrey, Robert Pattinson and a pissed-looking Benjamin Franklin leapt to block the doors. The crowds freaked and followed the same logic they would’ve used in front of a tornado. Half shrieked and ran while the rest felt the call of the storm-chaser. Dozens of cells lifted to film. Not that there was much to see yet.

  One of Oprah’s arms wrenched off her shoulder, while Ben shadowboxed and R-Pattz got dragged along the floor, his hands clenched around an invisible ankle.

  I landed in the center of the lobby and let shards of ice spread from my feet. That backed the onlookers to the sidelines. Ice slithered across the tiles until the lobby looked like a skating rink, and not even the wax statues could keep their feet. Ben Franklin body-slammed one of the guys on his way down, and the barrier snapped.

  Deena lay on the ground, kicking a determined Rob in the head, while Oprah had the office boy in a one-armed headlock.

  Drake kicked his statue aside. “Center of the room, Chance!”

  Looking a little gray in Oprah’s grasp, Chance squinted in my direction. A rumble sounded above, and I tipped my head back in time to see the chandelier on its way down. No time to pick a power out of the hat. I thrust upward, trusting my self-preservation instincts.

  As black and silver energy crackled up my arms, nausea boiled in my stomach. It would be that power.

  A gaping portal opened at my fingertips. Burning hot air whooshed into the lobby with a chorus of otherworldly screams that made my ears ache. The crackling power singed my skin, but I gritted my teeth and held on.

  The chandelier crashed into the hell dimension.

  Before any demons or other beasties slipped out, I cut the energy. My knees buckled and I crashed into the ice. Brimstone lingered in the air, or maybe that was just my charred skin. My burns stuck to the frozen floor. I wanted to scream, but I wasn’t out of it yet.

  Drake had wrestled free of the wax figures, and our gazes locked. He smirked and flashed invisible.

  Bastard!

  I couldn’t sense the field at all. Not that I was at my best. I could barely scrape myself off the floor.

  “Drake!” Chance called. Still pinned by Oprah, he was paling by the second.

  “Wait!” Deena kicked out in desperation, finally breaking free of Rob. She was going to get away. With the last of my energy, I slapped the ground.

  Tiles rippled under my hands, and the people who hadn’t cleared far enough away started to sink. The matter shift should’ve flashed across the room in a blink, but I was too weak. The wax statues collapsed as I focused my last concentration on the ripples creeping toward Deena and Chance.

  The floor sucked at Deena’s heels, but freed of the statues, she clawed her way to the doors. Chance wasn’t so lucky. He’d fallen under the dead wax, and sank until only head and bent knees peeked above the tiles.

  I tried to conjure a barrier to stop Deena, but a sharp pain jabbed my skull. I’d overspent the mental abilities, and I was so going to pay for it. She shoved into the crowd outside, disappearing from my field of view. The security team would have to deal with that one. Where the hell were they, anyway? I’d been tearing up their gaming floor, and I hadn’t seen one guy with a crew cut.

  I tried to sit up, but my skin tugged against the ice. Stuck. My body shook from pain, exhaustion and the beginning of shock. I’d pay for all the powers I’d used, but the portal most of all. Good girls weren’t supposed to open hell dimensions.

  The crowd tittered, and a few brave souls crept forward, carefully stepping through melted patches. So many cell phones were pointed in my direction that the rolling video was almost audible. I groaned. So much for moving penthouses. I was going to need a new continent. Maybe Antarctica.

  Before I passed out, I took a deep breath and wrenched my arms off the floor. Quarter-sized pieces of charred flesh tore away on the ice and the searing pain shot white spots in front of my eyes. Dizzy out of my mind, I was on the way to the floor again when strong arms grabbed my shoulders.

  “That was some show.” Tank swept me into his arms. The quick motion blurred my vision. I could see two of him again. Two pairs of dark, unamused eyes.

  “You’re bleeding.” I reached to wipe the trickle from one of his foreheads, but my hand wouldn’t lift high enough.

  “I’m bleeding?” His eyebrows lifted. “I got a piece of a light bulb. You look like you got hit by a train.” Recognizing Tank, the crowd started to cheer. I winced at the sound and he tilted my head toward his chest, away from the cell cameras. “Want to get out of here?”

  “You got Han and the super?”

  “Steve took them off my hands. I ran for it but missed the fight.” Tank said. “Can’t wait to watch the highlights on Youtube.”

  I groaned. “Let me down.”

  “You can stand?”

  “Probably not. Humor me.”

  Tank eased me to my feet and held me steady as I wobbled. Security finally made their appearance, pushing the crowd back. I caught a few choice lines from the onlookers:

  “Temptress and Thinktank are working together?”

  “Wasn’t that Demonik’s portal? Isn’t he dead?”

  “Make out with her!”

  I shot a glare at the guy who’d said the last. His
cell slipped from his fingers into his beer. That was one less viral video on my conscience.

  “You need a hospital.” Tank gripped my shoulder. “Look at yourself.”

  I glanced at the pus and blood that oozed from my arms and shrugged. “I have a pharmacy at home.”

  It took everything I had to break away from him and walk across the floor. My legs shook, my vision spun, and every part of me throbbed. But the guy buried in the floor couldn’t be feeling too hot either. I sank to my knees next to him.

  Chance took rapid breaths, his eyes as wide and panicked as a cornered bunny. The floor had solidified, burying his chest and lower body. No amount of probability manipulation was getting him out of that. I patted his forehead. “Want to tell us about your boss now or later?”

  “Wo…n’t….” he chattered. “Won’t talk…”

  “Whatever.” I’d read his mind later. After a handful of horse pills and two or three days of solid sleep. I bent for a kiss, conscious of Tank behind me. He shifted, using his body to shield from the cameras.

  Chance’s eyelids fluttered as his powers shifted over. The addition wasn’t so much a rush, but it gave me the energy to stand.

  One of the casino managers bustled over now that the pyrotechnics seemed to be over. Cindy. She had a bad perm and a worse attitude.

  I waved and started to walk away.

  She gasped. “Ms. Ray! You can’t leave him buried in our lobby!”

  I froze. Ms. Ray? With this many onlookers? The bitch knew better than to use my name in public. I whirled. Heat boiled through my body.

  Tank made a grab for me, but I brushed him aside.

  “You…you…” Cindy trembled.

  “Get me a luggage cart.”

  I could feel my eyes glowing. Fear tinged the spectators’ faces. But what did it matter? Everyone with a computer was going to know Temptress was back, and living in Vegas. It would be open season for every supervillain I’d ever screwed over.

  “Wha…?” Cindy cowered back.