Wilde Fire: Immortal Vegas, Book 10

by Jenn Stark

  Viktor shifted in the crowd; so did Tesla. What Kreios was saying was certainly no surprise to them.

  “Then came the dark practitioners and their search for more magic. Eventually, they dug deep enough and found it. What they didn’t find, they created. What is magic, really? Something born at the dawn of the world, or something manufactured in a lab? It would seem the answer to that question doesn’t matter so much when both those types of magic are flooding the earth, filling in the wells of possibility long since run dry.”

  “You’re talking about technoceuticals, sugar lips,” Nikki said, her voice cold. “That isn’t magic. That isn’t even real, most of the time. And it sure as hell doesn’t last any longer than the drug does in the system.”

  “No longer precisely true,” came a second, cultured, European voice. Nikola Tesla stepped forward with an elegant gesture, his dark hair slicked back over his pale, sharp features. “As you yourself have seen, the drugs of the dark practitioners have escalated dramatically. No longer do they merely augment the abilities of the Connected or generate a spark where there was no spark before. Now they actually can change the DNA of their hosts. I think you would agree that alters the playing field considerably. If my DNA proclaims me a master psychic, who cares if I was born that way or made it that way?” He gave a thin smile. “If anything, the advances in technoceutical technology should be heralded on a level with those of robotics and artificial intelligence.”

  Tesla’s final statement was lost in an unexpected burst of movement. My gaze flashed back to the Hierophant, but he was no longer there. The portal that had been behind him, however, remained open. And there, in a boiling mass, another rage of demons spilled through, timed exactly with Warrick hitting the ground.

  “Horde!” came the sudden shout, and to my surprise, it was a strong feminine voice that gave the order. A voice I knew particularly well. Death, aka Blue. Special skills: shepherding souls into the afterlife, master tattoo artist, epically talented airbrush gun slinger. Alignment: Lawful Neutral.

  Wait…Death? When had she gotten here?

  As if jerked out of unconsciousness by her cry, Warrick sprang to his feet, and suddenly, there was another man beside him, then a third, their eyes glowing—one pair red, one pair blue. All three of them carried the curved daggers, and they whirled in the center of the mass of demons, moving so fast, it was difficult to follow them.

  They weren’t the only problem, though. A trio of burly males radiating power and wrapped in animal skins and long cloaks had rushed through another opening into the wide room. Death stood tall before them, fury boiling from every pore.

  “Taranis, Esus, and Teutates,” she seethed. “You dare.”

  I didn’t have time to process her words, because this time, the Council wasn’t waiting for permission to take action. The Magician lifted his hands, and his palms didn’t merely glow with light, they exploded with it, while Eshe and Viktor formed equal and opposite ends of the triangle. I was beginning to feel left out when Nikki screamed.

  “Sara!”

  I twisted around and instantly saw what had happened. With the Council tied up with the Celtic gods, the door that the Hierophant had disappeared into had gone unprotected. Demons continued to spill out of it, straight into the whirling knives of the Syx, but at the same time, a gusting wind had sprung up, whipping through the conference room and yanking the gamers forward. The gamers—the youngest and most vulnerable among us.

  “No!” I caught one of the gamers as he hurtled by me, shoving him to the side, then bounded toward the open door. I heard the laughter deep within, recognized the voice—Llyr, I thought, and deep within my mind’s eye, the dragon’s maw opened, and it was no longer demons that spilled forth from it. Instead, the dragon wanted to be fed—fed by the mortal Connecteds, the best and brightest of this world. Fed by the children who represented the hope for the future. Fed by those who were born magic, and those who became magic. As Tesla said, it mattered not one bit how they came by their magic as long as they were indeed magic. And thus the truth of the Hierophant’s words was borne out.

  This was the time for the gods to strike. It was the perfect time, in fact.

  The magic on Earth was throwing the world out of balance, but that really wasn’t the issue. Chaos was growth. But there was so much of it, expanding so quickly, that at last there was a reason for the gods to return to the mortal plane. And with the perfect storm of all this magic and the rending of the veil…

  I braced myself in the doorway, then threw all the magic I had within me down the long and twisting pathway before me. I felt the pressure of bodies at my back and the rush of wind behind me, the cries of the horde as they were dispatched by the Syx. But mostly I pushed and pushed, not feeding the dragon, not giving it my fire and my blood, but creating a wall beyond which he could not pass. Not here, at least, not now.

  Not here…not now.

  Eventually, silence reigned before me, despite the war still raging behind. But this was only one door, one pathway onto Earth. By all accounts, every god in creation would start rattling the handles, and what would we do then?

  What, indeed.

  It was a long time before the chaos behind me and the chaos before me slipped away into nothing, and longer still before my ears stopped ringing enough to understand any words.

  The first ones that finally reached me were the best I could ask for.

  “Dollface.” Strong hands on my shoulder peeled me back from the doorway, which dissolved as soon as I stepped away from it. I accepted Nikki’s arm of support, letting her turn me slowly around. The gamers and guards were gone. So were Ma-Singh and the Syx, Gamon too, and every Council member other than the Magician, who stood at the wall of windows, resolutely looking out. Any sign of the demons that the Syx had shredded had also disappeared, and the room was back to its normal proportions. Brody, Nigel, and Danae stood in tight conversation by the far door.

  “No one hurt?” I managed, my voice a mere croak.

  Nikki shrugged. “Hurt, yes. The Syx mostly. Three of them to three hundred of those things isn’t great odds, no matter who you are. But no casualties to the kids.” She made a face. “I almost wish there had been. They didn’t stay freaked out for nearly long enough.”

  I snorted, unreasonably tired. “We’re not going to be strong enough to handle all the gods coming at once, Nikki. We could barely handle one portal, and we had the whole Council here.”

  “The Celts didn’t last long. Apparently, Death wasn’t a fan.” She let out a low whistle. “Remind me not to get on her bad side.”

  “Agreed.” Our cautious steps had taken us to the windows, where Armaeus stood looking out. I turned to him while I remained leaning on Nikki.

  “So, um, did that go the way you hoped it would?”

  The Magician smiled without looking at me. “There are games upon games being played within the Council,” he said, his tone mild. “That one went better than I imagined it would.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I scowled. “You say that as if you’re not going to explain what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “I’m happy to explain. But it’s not anything that will matter unless, as the Hierophant suggests, we survive the first two waves of the war. As to the third…”

  I gestured wearily. In truth, I didn’t need the Magician to spell it out to me. This could all only go one way. “You think there’s going to be a war within the Council. That’s the third wave. And this—what just happened here—that gives you insight into, what, how that war will go down?”

  Armaeus nodded. “Consider what we know. The Hierophant, for all his lofty position, is in the habit of commanding demons to do his business, including the Syx, who until this point I did not know were so strong in their own right. Nor was I aware that they had been pressed into service against their own kind…willingly, by all indications. The two new members of their team were pulled in after Warrick, separate of your summons.”

&n
bsp; “Because of the horde,” I said.

  “The horde. A rallying cry, made by none other than Death, who should have come when you summoned the mighty…but did not. She arrived only later, long past the window of your compulsion. Rendering her theoretically less powerful than perceived, or, I would submit, more so.”

  I was starting to get a headache. “Okayyy.”

  “She showed her disdain for the Hierophant as well.”

  I winced, remembering Jimmy’s comments. “Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.”

  “All very interesting layers that we’ve had no occasion to witness, given the Hierophant’s separation from the Council these long centuries. Layers that I’m not sure we would have witnessed if it were not for the events of this day. Then too there are the Council members who helped turn back the Celtic triad.”

  Beside me, Nikki snorted. “Celtic triad. That totally should be a WWE name. They would be big.”

  “And they might have gotten their chance,” Armaeus nodded, “but for the efforts of Viktor and Eshe.”

  I made a face. I wasn’t really big on tossing any kudos Viktor’s way. “So where did you stash them, the gods that you turned back?” I asked, thinking of Ma-Singh’s question. “If the veil is torn to shreds and they can get back the instant someone else holds the door for them, what’s the point of banishing them?”

  He sighed. “It’s an interesting question. And one I’ve spent a not inconsiderable amount of time trying to answer.”

  “And that answer is…”

  “Not presently available to us. For the moment, we return the gods to places where we know the veil is not damaged, where there has been no recorded entry point. Most of the time, that’s over sections of the world that are not heavily populated.”

  Nikki frowned. “So, like the North Pole.”

  “The North Pole, the South Pole. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s a start. When they’re returned outside the veil, there’s a period of disorientation unless they are gods of the caliber of Llyr and Lilith. That should slow them down until we come up with a more permanent solution.”

  Across the room, Brody’s phone buzzed. I glanced over to see him scowling down at the device as if it offended him. Good to know that AT&T had coverage in the Council’s boardrooms, I thought wearily. It gave a whole new meaning to Ethernet.

  “Slow them down how much, though?” Nikki asked. “According to Michael and his flaming sword, we’ve got like, maybe three days before these attacks of the seven suns start. That isn’t gonna give us much time.”

  “It will, and it won’t,” Armaeus said. “Time is not the linear construct it seems to be, Miss Dawes. Sometimes it stretches, sometimes it contracts.”

  “Oh, stow the metaphysical bullshit, Armaeus, and give us the straight scoop.”

  Nikki’s unexpected outburst made me blink, but Armaeus only watched her, that vaguely professorial look once more playing about his lips. How long had it been since he regarded me with that same disconnected interest, that same distant curiosity of a scientist observing a trapped butterfly?

  As quickly as he took in Nikki’s pained expression, he shifted to me, and I had my answer. Yup, same bug-studying look.

  But he wasn’t the only one in observation mode. As the Magician gave me his full attention, his face sharply illuminated by the bright light of the midday sun, I took in all the things that were different about him now as well. His eyes were darker, no question, absolutely black irises almost leavened by the darkness of his pupils. And while his body retained the bronze suppleness I had come to expect, with his skin stretched over exotic cheekbones and sculpted jaw, his winged black eyebrows arching high, his black hair flowing away from his face and cascading to his shoulders, something had definitely changed. After witnessing his efforts of expelling the gods and given how much time he’d spent hunched over his magic cauldron, or whatever the heck he did in the darkness of his conjuring room, I would’ve expected Armaeus to look drawn, almost exhausted. Instead, he looked more alive than I’d ever seen him. More energized, more powerful. Almost like he was amped up on technoceuticals himself.

  “You, uh, feeling okay?” I asked him.

  Unlike Nikki’s outburst, my question seemed to catch Armaeus off guard, and he gave it legitimate consideration.

  “I feel like the answers are close,” he said. “That confidence builds in me in a positive expectation that is only amplified with every passing crisis. As if the struggles themselves are what is drawing me toward the inevitable solution to our dilemma.”

  He shifted his gaze back to Nikki. “So to be more clear, Miss Dawes, for the typical god or goddess transplanted back beyond what is left of the veil, the disorientation would last approximately two hundred years. As you can see, more than enough time for us to consider more viable options for their containment, without impacting the three-day deadline that the Hierophant so helpfully outlined.”

  “Oh,” she said, blowing out a breath and looking considerably more relieved. “Two hundred years. I can work with that.”

  “But not the powerful gods. They’ll be back almost immediately,” I said. “They’ll be back, and they can bring new buddies to throw at us every time.”

  Armaeus nodded. “That is almost certainly what we will face next.”

  Across the room, Brody’s voice rose in anger. He was practically shouting at whoever it was on the other end of the line, with the kind of edge to his voice that made it seem like he was arguing with his superiors. That he was arguing wasn’t so much a surprise, but then he hung up the phone, stowing it in his jacket, and whirled. He spotted me and strode over, anger clipping his every step.

  “We gotta go,” he said tersely as he reached us. He scowled at Armaeus. In a testament to exactly how jacked he was, he pointed at him. “You know anything about this Interpol shit? Because these people are becoming a nuisance.”

  I blinked. Interpol?

  Armaeus shrugged. “I know they seek an audience with you, and I know they have a sophisticated electrical jammer that I haven’t taken the time to get around. It wouldn’t stop me if I decided to apply consistent effort, but there are a few other things I’m working on right now.”

  “She in any danger?” Brody asked, gesturing at me but keeping his eyes trained on Armaeus.

  “Standing right here,” I put in. “You do that kind of a lot, you know.”

  Brody side-eyed me. “And you have a tendency to not take precautions when you should.” He returned his attention to Armaeus. “She in any danger?”

  The Magician had the grace not to look amused at Brody’s blatant concern. “No more than usual.”

  “Okay, well, we gotta go,” Brody said, turning to me. “Brass is all up in my grill over getting you over to some freaking ‘casual meetup’—not an official interview, not at the precinct house, someplace nice and open. Apparently, you scare the crap out of everyone, and no one thinks confining you is a good idea.”

  That stopped me. “Really? Since when did I become all that spooky?”

  “Dunno. It smells bad to me too, like they want you out in the open all right, but not because they’re worried about making you claustrophobic.”

  I looked back at Armaeus to find that he was watching me. His dark eyes were filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. Ordinarily, I’d think pride, since apparently, I’d managed to flummox Interpol, but that wasn’t it. It also wasn’t his usual “good little bug” stare. What?

  A smile flickered on Armaeus’s face, but he didn’t respond to my mental prompt with his inside voice. Instead, he responded to Brody.

  “I think you will find the interview is highly relevant, though not perhaps for what the agents of Interpol wish to share with you. If it’s public, who chose the location?”

  “I did. They wanted to go to the coffee shop in Aria, and I told ’em the Flamingo. At least there we can have Kreios on hand if anything stupid goes down. They didn’t like it, but that’s where we’re meeting in
fifteen.” He checked his watch. “Make that ten. We gotta go—Goddammit, I hate it when he does that.”

  Brody rubbed his hands through his hair again as he stared at the spot where the Magician had been, nothing but a wisp of smoke curling in his wake.

  I frowned. Could I do that? Just up and disappear at will? My gut was thinking yes, but my gut wasn’t known for its wisdom, exactly.

  I decided to opt for conventional travel arrangements. We were down the elevators and back across the lobby of the Luxor in another three minutes, and from there I knew it would be a short ride to the Flamingo, no matter who was driving.

  Which meant I still had time for a reading.

  “Take us around the block,” I said.

  “Why—oh.” Brody sheared off to the right as, beside me, Nikki glanced over her shoulder.

  “Make it snappy, dollface. We’ve got a tail.”

  “And why is that, exactly?” Brody barked, to no one in particular. “Who are these assholes?”

  I reached into my jacket and pulled out three cards. Seven of Swords, Six of Pentacles, Five of Wands.

  “We’re walking into someone’s idea of a trap,” I said, showing the cards to Nikki. She gave a low whistle.

  “What does a whistle mean?” Brody snapped from the front seat. “Whistling doesn’t help me.”

  I didn’t bother showing him the cards. He didn’t care what they looked like, just what they meant. “We’re being set up or lied to, that’s Seven of Swords. Then—Six of Pentacles. We’re going to get some sort of gift or blessing, that I’m a little fuzzier on, then boom, Five of Wands. Fight. Not a bad fight, I’m thinking, but a conflict.”

  “So maybe an argument?” Brody hazarded. “They can’t expect to get away with a gunfight in the middle of a casino. Security is tighter than I’ve ever seen it.”

  “Maybe,” I said, but I didn’t think so. The Five of Wands meant action, no matter how you sliced it. Action indicated there’d be a little more than a conversation at stake.

  We made it around the block again, the tail shearing off as soon as we returned to the planned route and double-parked in front of the Flamingo. Brody flashed his credentials to the valet, but the boy was momentarily too flustered to focus on them, as Nikki bolted out of the car, a six-foot-four Wonder Woman.