Outfox_Spellslingers Academy of Magic

by Annabel Chase

  “This isn’t really the right time for this conversation,” I said quietly.

  We rode the elevator to the suite in silence. Was he really thinking about a future together? It seemed so unlike him.

  “Your humble abode during our stay,” he said, and opened the door to the suite.

  “Stars and stones,” I breathed, surveying the extravagant yet tasteful room.

  “Swanky, right?” Peter said, making himself at home behind the bar.

  “You can afford this?”

  “Of course I can,” he replied. “I’m not destitute, princess.”

  “I know, but still.” The suite looked incredibly expensive, even by Terrene standards.

  “Can I interest you in a Terrene delicacy?” He held up a glass.

  “And what would that be?” I asked, leaning my elbows on the bar.

  “Ladies seem to like fruity cocktails in this neck of the desert. I can’t shake it like a human bartender, but I can whip you up something called a gin and tonic. Sophisticated and tasty, like you.”

  I sighed. “Stop with the flirting, Peter. It isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I seem to recall it getting me somewhere before.”

  “I was under the spell of the palace,” I lied.

  He made a face. “There was no spell at work in the palace and you know it.”

  I tapped my nails on the countertop. “One gin and tonic and then we’re off to find appropriate clothes.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He made two of the same drink and hung a slice of lemon on the side of my glass before handing it to me.

  “Lovely attention to detail,” I said, inhaling the aroma of the lemon. I loved the scent of citrus. It was fresh and revitalizing.

  “I aim to please.” He took a swig of his drink, while I sipped mine hesitantly.

  “It’s surprisingly nice,” I said.

  He raised his brow. “Surprisingly? You had to throw that in there, didn’t you?”

  “I wasn’t sure what to expect from Terrene alcohol.”

  “You shouldn’t drink too much then. Human alcohol affects our kind in all sorts of weird ways. Shifters can drink a hundred of these and barely feel it, but a pixie might get knocked off her wings after two sips.”

  I swallowed another mouthful. The hint of lemon was sublime. “And where do I fall on that spectrum?”

  Peter grinned. “I guess we’ll find out shortly.”

  I set the glass down. “On second thought, why don’t we hit the shops now before I make a fool of myself?”

  “I’d love to see you make a fool of yourself. Hell, I do it all the time.” He gulped the rest of his drink and set the empty glass on the countertop.

  “I’m sure there’s a way to avoid that,” I said.

  He laughed. “If there is, I sure haven’t figured it out yet.”

  An hour later, we returned from the shops with a pretty good idea of what I needed to wear. Peter was dead set on a minidress, but I told him if he were that excited about it then he should wear one himself.

  “What if a fight breaks out?” I said, sitting at the bar to finish my gin and tonic. “I can’t battle demons in a short dress.”

  “Dani Degraff admits there’s something she can’t do?” He rested his hand on his chest. “Be still my heart.”

  I glared at him. “I’m conjuring an outfit like the one we saw with the white pants and the gold top.” The pants had a huge belt that was obscured by the flowing top but still looked awesome. I took out my wand and recreated the outfit to the best of my ability. Large gold hoop earrings and leopard print ballet flats completed the ensemble.

  Peter gave me an admiring glance. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to change in front of me.” He moved to pull up his shirt. “I feel exactly the same.”

  I zapped him with my wand. “I’ll help you. You liked that turquoise shirt, right?”

  “Matches my eyes,” he said, fluttering his eyelids.

  I conjured him a Vegas outfit and my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him in pressed trousers and a nice shirt. He was damned attractive, gods help me. “Looking good, Zilla.”

  He angled toward me. “How good?”

  I pressed my palms flat against his chest. “Stay focused. We’re here for information. That’s it.”

  He gripped my fingers and brought my right hand to his lips. “If you say so.”

  “I say so.” I pulled my hands away. “Anything I should know before we head over? Hexes or wards to watch out for?”

  “It’s a cloaked casino for our kind, so there shouldn’t be any humans to worry about,” Peter said. “The place will be full of paranormals from all four quadrants. Vegas is a worldwide draw.”

  “Because of the casinos?”

  “Among other things,” Peter said vaguely. “The norns help with the appeal, too. There are always paranormals seeking to change their fate or the fate of someone they know.”

  “I hope we get some answers without losing a lot of coins at the casino,” I said.

  Peter’s expression darkened. “If that’s all we lose there, I’ll consider us lucky.”

  Chapter Eight

  The Valhalla Casino was even grander and more ornate than the Bellagio. Winged creatures roamed the cavernous rooms and nearly naked servers handed out cocktails. White seemed to be the color of choice and I glanced down at my trousers with a satisfied smile.

  “You chose well,” Peter said, echoing my thoughts.

  A big-breasted woman with a tiny waist approached us. She wore a bikini top with a short sarong that barely covered her bottom. She held a tray of bright red drinks. “Valhalla Vino?”

  “Yes, please,” Peter said, scooping two off the tray.

  The woman offered a flirtatious smile. “Anything else, handsome?”

  “Not now, thanks,” he said.

  I watched as she sauntered off to the next group. “Was she some kind of compelled human?”

  “A succubus,” Peter said. “They’re everywhere here. Incubi, too. Watch out for both of those. You think you’ve made a new friend and the next thing you know you’re half naked in the restroom with your pants around your ankles.”

  I frowned. “That sounds very specific.”

  “Nope, not at all. Very general. Could happen to anyone.” He sipped the cocktail. “These are potent. Don’t have too much.”

  “I won’t.” Although it did taste very sweet and delicious. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a real succubus, or an incubus for that matter.”

  “Welcome to the real world,” Peter said. “I bet you meet a lot of them once you’re a tried and true sentry. May as well be exposed now.” He paused. “Okay, not exposed. Not unless you’re with me. Then you can expose yourself all you like.”

  “Down, boy,” I said, and patted his broad shoulder. If only it didn’t feel so good to touch him. I tried to focus on my drink instead. “Where should we start?”

  “We need to talk to some of the employees,” Peter said. “Try to identify whoever might have dropped the coin. I suspect they came here to fence the sword, and employees are in the best position to overhear these conversations.”

  “Why didn’t we ask the succubus?”

  “I’d start with the dealers and other game operators,” he said. “They’re a better bet.” He laughed. “I’m betting on gambling employees. Oh, the irony!”

  I craned my neck to take in the variety of gambling tables in the first room. There was so much noise and activity, it was hard to focus on the details. We threaded our way through the crowd and I noticed a few admiring looks from men as I passed by. A couple of vampires. A werewolf howled softly as I brushed past him by one of the card tables.

  “You need a partner for any of these games, honey, you just say the word,” he said gruffly. He reeked of alcohol and another smell I couldn’t identify.

  Peter snaked an arm around my waist. “She has a partner, but thanks.”


  “Honey, you’re way too hot for that guy,” the werewolf drawled.

  I summoned my magic and placed a hand on his arm. I waited until I heard the satisfying sizzle before letting go. “I really am,” I said.

  “Ouch, you crazy witch!” the werewolf said, rubbing his burnt arm. He stalked off in a hurry.

  “That was uncalled for and yet completely badass,” Peter said with a broad smile.

  “You don’t have to defend me, Peter,” I said. “I can take care of myself.”

  A huge stocky man with greenish skin approached us. A troll. “We only allow limited magic in this establishment, miss,” he told me. “Consider yourself on notice.”

  I whacked Peter on the arm. “You didn’t think that was important enough to mention?” I hissed, once the security troll walked away.

  He rubbed his arm. “I didn’t expect you to go pyro on some poor werewolf.”

  “Poor werewolf?” I repeated, incredulous. “Now he’s the victim?” I finished my drink and gave the glass to a passing server. They were easy to spot in their skimpy outfits. The incubi were no better. Their impressive chests were bare and they wore only tight shorts on the bottom. I could understand why paranormals flocked to a place like this.

  “Let’s start at the roulette table,” Peter said.

  “What’s roulette?” I asked. It sounded like a type of food.

  “A game, like everything else here,” Peter said. “Come on. You’ll see.” He took my hand and guided me to the gaming table where a crowd was already gathered. My head suddenly felt a little light, probably from all the movement and noise.

  I watched a giant wheel with numbers spin around and onlookers grew excited when the wheel stopped. A vampire sat behind an enormous pile of silver coins. Upon closer inspection, unsurprisingly, they were identical to the silver coin I’d found at the smithy.

  “Two new players,” a silky voice said. “Won’t you join us?”

  My gaze cut through the crowd and landed on a woman in a bright white pantsuit. Her ash-colored hair was cut in a boxy bob and she wore silver glasses that sparkled in the light.

  “Thank you,” Peter said, and placed his hand on the small of my back, gently pushing me forward. Gamblers made a gap at the table wide enough for the two of us to stand. Peter flashed a card and a succubus brought over a small bag of coins.

  “What’s that card?” I asked.

  “Special privileges,” he whispered. “I got it last time I was here.”

  “From who?” I hissed.

  “A friend,” he said vaguely.

  “Peter? Is that really you?”

  Peter whirled around and I caught a glimpse of a redhead throwing her arms around his neck. She proceeded to pepper him with kisses and I felt my blood grow warm. What did I care if this woman was kissing him? He wasn’t my boyfriend, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise.

  “Marla,” Peter said, giving her a big, fake smile. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

  “It’s Darla,” she said, her lips forming a pout.

  He snapped his fingers. “That’s what I meant. Too much Valhalla Vino already.”

  She giggled. “As long as it’s not Viper Venom.”

  So Darla was the muse from his previous visit. She was pretty, if you liked bony redheads with the chest of a thirteen-year-old boy.

  “Darla, this is my friend, Dani,” he said.

  Darla’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You brought another woman to my casino?”

  “To be fair, it’s not your casino,” Peter said. “You just spend a lot of time here, apparently.”

  Her hands flew to her narrow hips. “I work here, Peter Zilla.”

  “What do you do here?” I asked. Maybe I could salvage this.

  “I work in the Coins Department,” she said. “And what do you do?”

  “I’m working with Peter on a confidential assignment,” I said. “Maybe you could help us, if you’re interested.”

  Darla’s gaze flitted from me to Peter. “Oh, I’m definitely interested.”

  I ignored the flare of jealousy inside me. It was silly. It had been my decision to classify Peter as a friend. I didn’t have the right to act like a jealous girlfriend now.

  I left Peter at the roulette table and steered Darla aside so that we couldn’t be overheard. “Do you spend a lot of time on the casino floor?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Darla said. “I’m constantly delivering fresh batches of coins to the tables. And I’m a muse, so the owners like me to spread my energy around.”

  “What’s your specialty?” I asked.

  “Comedy,” Darla said. “I bring lightheartedness to those around me.”

  Though she didn’t strike me as a barrel full of flying monkeys, I decided to take her word for it. “There was a guest here in recent weeks who may have been talking about an ancient sword. Does that sound familiar to you?”

  “Male or female?’ she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “The sword is called Slatra.”

  “Slatra,” she repeated. “No, that word doesn’t ring any bells for me. Sorry.”

  My head jerked to the side as a cry rang out from the roulette table. An elf was writhing in agony as his skin turned charcoal. “Spell’s bells, what’s happening to him?”

  “His fate,” Darla replied, unconcerned. “He must’ve asked for a destiny he didn’t deserve. The tables never lie.”

  I watched in horror as the elf’s body hardened and then cracked. His expression remained one of pure pain. The cracks widened until the body turned to dust.

  Darla lifted her wrist to her mouth. “Clean-up at roulette table number two.”

  My jaw dropped as a goblin appeared and swept up the elf’s remains. Everyone continued gambling as though nothing had happened. My gaze met Peter’s and he saw the distress in my eyes.

  “First time here, huh?” Darla asked.

  “Yes,” I replied, and definitely the last.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “You get used to it. They know what the stakes are when they seek the norns’ involvement. They come to gamble with their destinies and sometimes they lose. That’s life.”

  Her cavalier attitude made me uncomfortable. “Thanks for your help,” I said.

  Peter appeared by my side. “The roulette operator doesn’t know anything. I asked him during the cleanup.”

  “Darla doesn’t either,” I said.

  “Maybe try the craps table,” Darla suggested. “They tend to get the most traffic.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Peter said.

  “Come and see me when you’re done,” Darla said, giving him a coy look. “I’d love to catch up.” Her gaze darted to me. “I’m sure I can find a nice incubus to occupy your friend.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Peter said, in a jumbled rush. It seemed I wasn’t the only one prone to jealousy.

  Darla’s mouth formed a tight line. “I see.”

  “I’ll definitely see you again before I leave,” Peter said.

  His promise seemed to satisfy her. “You’d better,” she said sweetly. “You know I have friends in dark places.” She pinched his cheek before sauntering away.

  “She’s a little scary for a comedic muse,” I said.

  “Why do you think she works here?” he asked. “Not all muses are created equal.” He pointed to the table a few games away. “We’ll try that craps table first.”

  “Do you know how to play?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he said. “It’s fun and addictive, though, so probably best if I don’t join in. I want to stay alert.”

  “Good plan,” I replied.

  No sooner did we squeeze between two fairies at the table when another victim of destiny made herself known. A gnome stood at the head of the craps table, a pair of dice in her hand. Her expression quickly changed from one of joy and excitement to intolerable anguish. The emotion was so intense that I felt it in my bones and I wasn’t even an empath.

&n
bsp; I couldn’t bear to watch her suffer. Despite the troll’s warning about magic, I produced my wand and took aim at the gnome. I conjured a defensive spell that wrapped her in a protective bubble. She floated away from the table, clearly shocked by the turn of events.

  “Dani,” Peter said in a low voice. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No,” a voice boomed. “You definitely shouldn’t have.” The troll grabbed my arm and tugged me away from the table. “The boss would like to see you.” He glared at Peter. “Both of you.”

  Minotaur shit.

  The troll steered us down a long, dimly lit corridor and deposited us in front of a security door that was guarded by a row of five extremely tall women holding spears. They were dressed in identical garb, differentiated by color—red, blue, yellow, green, and orange. Their outfits reminded me of the Valkyrie’s breastplate from my vision at the spring. They wore sandals that spanned the length of their legs to their knees.

  “The boss wants to see these two,” the troll said.

  Peter seemed distracted by the row of beautiful women. “Amazons, right?” he asked.

  The yellow guard met his inquisitive gaze. “Correct,” she said.

  “You’re allowed to talk?” Peter asked. “You’re not like those Beefeaters in London?”

  I cast him a sidelong glance. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Yeomen Warders are ceremonial,” the yellow guard said. “We are not. You would do well to remember the distinction.”

  Peter gulped. “Consider me reminded.”

  The heavy door opened and the troll ushered us inside. The red and blue Amazons followed behind us and the door slammed closed, locking us in.

  A lone woman was in the enormous room. She used a machine to jog in place. Her blond hair was slicked back in a high ponytail, reminiscent of my own. She wore a matching top and cotton shorts in a light shade of blue.

  “Nice hair,” the woman said, stepping off the machine. The blue Amazon handed her a towel and the woman wiped her face and neck before tossing it back to the Amazon.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Same to you.”