by Eve Langlais
She threaded through the crowd to the end of Fremont where the massive new ComeTrue casino lorded over the surrounding street. Although the front was bright and enticing, the building extended out of sight into the gathering darkness. Out of the night came the bonelike clatter of a train passing on the tracks that ran parallel to Las Vegas Boulevard: a humdrum reminder of the everyday life that went on in the shadows of the splashy Vegas experience.
Speaking of splash. Since this was the first weekend the casino was open, Barrows had to be on site. What mega–billionaire could resist watching himself rake in more mega–billions, right?
Avery used her phone to capture a few pictures of the exterior. ComeTrue had a retro futuristic vibe that somehow made her want to gape and scoff at the same time.
Sometimes she hated her own cynicism. What had it ever gotten her?
Other than away from her mother.
With heels clacking decisively on the marble tile, she marched forward into the rainbow doorway of ComeTrue.
The interior was typical Vegas excess, a barrage of stimuli exciting every sense. Plus a hint of something more. Something… Dammit, she was not going to say magical, whatever words Ho had put in her head. But it reminded her of the way Mom used to take her by the hands and they’d spin around and around until Avery was laughing maniacally–and on the verge of puking. Then Mom would stop abruptly and say, “Look. Look around you, baby. What do you see?” Mostly spinning lights, but sometimes something… more. Gah.
She couldn’t explain it. She swallowed hard and despite trembling fingers took a few classic tourist photos–even the most high–handed security couldn’t battle the selfie onslaught–figuring she’d examine them later for whatever was giving her this strange flashback.
She counterfeited a smile for her cell phone camera and flipped it to look at the screen.
He was behind her.
Her heart stuttered then doubled its beat. The black–haired man from the bus might have just been visiting the new casino like thousands of others, like her, but he was looking at her with that hungry glitter in his eyes. His black leather trench flared open around his long legs as if he’d been striding right toward her.
Avery spun on her heel, ready to give him a really withering glare.
But he was gone.
She scanned the crowd without finding him.
“Creep,” she muttered. She did not need this distraction.
She turned back to continue her quest into the casino.
And slammed right into his chest.
Chapter Two
Hugo steadied the woman, wrapping his fingers loosely around her upper arms. A quiver went through her body–the instinctive awareness of a hunted creature, caught–but she merely stared up at him, her green eyes half–lidded, and didn’t even try to pull away.
Ah. So she did not actually consider herself caught.
He couldn’t stop the quirk of his lips, though he was careful not to reveal his fangs. He’d only made that mistake once, as he’d stepped through the king’s portal from the phaedrealii into the sunrise. Low and pallid as it had been, the touch of light on his skin felt so good he’d forgotten himself.
Just for a moment, though. The shrill scream of the scruffy gentleman in the alley where he’d emerged quickly recalled him. It seemed his scouting skills had rusted somewhat during his time in the phae court.
But he’d quickly settled into this Vegas. Although the world had changed during his time with the phae, in many surprising ways it was still the same. Or maybe the phae had inured him to strangeness.
With Yelena’s help, he had obtained a place to stay along with appropriate clothing and a thing called a cell phone should he be forcefully relocated by the local constabulary. He wasn’t certain what improprieties he would have to enact to bring such negative attention down upon himself. As far as he could tell, partial nakedness, substantial drunkenness, utter lewdness, and all other manner of unrestrained behavior were tolerated in Las Vegas, at least once the sun went down.
Indeed, the world hadn’t changed much at all.
At the list of sins, his gaze shifted over the woman in his arms, from her green eyes to her poppy–red mouth. The setting of the sun and finally bringing his quarry to ground had roused his hunting instincts, sparking a dark need such as this place of endless lights and hidden shadows had never seen.
“Why have you been following me?” Her voice was husky. He’d heard it before when he was tracking her, but this close, it vibrated through him, down to his bones. “And don’t deny it,” she continued. “I saw you when those guys cat–called me before I even got on the bus.”
“Hey, baby,” he murmured.
Her green eyes narrowed even more as she stiffened. “Seriously?”
In another heartbeat she would try to yank away from him. Then he would either have to let her go or be forced to demonstrate just how easily he could restrain her. He hadn’t meant to confront her quite yet, had intended to follow her a bit longer, learning more about her as he’d once learned the strategies of armies, but she’d seen him and forced his hand.
“I need you,” he said. “So I followed you.”
“I need you to get your hands off me. Before I scream.”
And she hadn’t even seen his fangs yet.
He opened his hands, holding them wide to show his good faith. “My deepest apologies, Ms. Hill. What I meant is, you are a writer, and I need your words.”
“Well, you sure know how to win a writer’s heart.” She lifted her chin to stare him down. “You’ve read my stuff?”
He pulled out his phone. On the screen was his quarry’s small picture framed above the words “By Avery Hill”. Her auburn hair was slicked back severely and cat’s–eye glasses veiled her lovely green eyes, but her white blouse had been partially unbuttoned to display more than a hint of cleavage plumped around the gold chain of her necklace.
She groaned. “Oh God. No wonder he’s selling so many subscriptions.”
Hugo tilted the device to admire it again. “You didn’t know?”
“I try not to read that bullshit.”
He frowned in consternation. “But you write it, yes?”
“Unfortunately.” She frowned back at him. “Why?”
Avoiding her question for the moment, he persisted. “So your story on little green men was untrue? You didn’t see elves?”
“What? No! Of course I didn’t see them. And they weren’t elves; they were aliens.” She pushed her hair back. Unlike her picture, she usually wore her hair down around her shoulders. Sometimes, when she was tired, she seemed to hide behind the thick red–hued waves, but right now she snapped with an internal fire even more alluring to him than that first sunrise. “No one saw them because–and this is going to shock you…” She leaned toward him and dropped her voice to a whisper, luring him closer, letting him breathe in the enticing warmth of her body. “They aren’t real.”
He snapped upright. “But you wrote about it.”
“Because that’s how I make a living.”
“So you lied.”
The furrow between her brows deepened into a scowl. “You thought it was true?” She huffed out a breath. “Should’ve guessed the first guy in Vegas to touch me would be crazier than I am.”
Hugo had become the phae king’s man for one reason: to win his freedom. Still, at her words–”touch me”–the hidden fire in her sparked across the space between them. His pulse heaved at the almost painful intensity.
She was his chance at salvation. Unfortunately, she apparently lived by telling lies, and the phae king wouldn’t set him free from his curse until he forced her to see the truth.
He took a half step forward, looming over her. “How can you write it if you don’t believe?”
She tilted her head without retreating, her chin raised at a challenging angle. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned at Conspiracy Quarterly, it’s never buy into your own con.” She swept her hand outward. “L
ook at this place. What do you think Deon Barrows hopes ‘comes true’ here? Fat cash, that’s what. Although I have no doubt he’ll lie to my face when I ask him that question.”
Hugo quickly considered all she’d said. “You’re hoping to meet with this Barrows?”
“I wish. The guy is a fucking ghost.”
Hugo rather doubted that. “I know you’ll make it happen.”
Her tenacity was one of the reasons Yelena had chosen Avery as a contact: “This girl can take down an internet troll in one tweet,” the wereling woman had said. “She’s not going to fall to pieces when she discovers trolls actually sorta really exist.”
But Avery tucked her chin as if ducking his words of support. “I… Thanks. I have to make it happen, really.” Her green gaze slid away from him, then doubled back, as if she thought he might disappear again.
She doubted herself on so many levels. He knew she’d been thrown off by his unnatural speed earlier, but she wasn’t letting herself question what she’d seen.
Disappointment surged in him. The Ruiner had been adamant about revealing the phae through the storytellers of the day. Yelena had agreed, although she’d warned it wouldn’t be so simple. Hugo was realizing it wouldn’t be simple at all.
“I too have business with Barrows,” he said.
Avery crossed her arms. “What business?” she asked suspiciously. “Look, buddy, if you’re working for another newspaper–”
“No. He and I have… friends in common. I have a deal for him.”
“Is this some mafia thing?” She tapped her bottom lip. “Actually, I could use that.”
Hugo watched the stroke of her tapered nail across the juicy curve of her mouth. He could use some of that…
With enormous effort, he focused his attention. He wasn’t here to indulge his twisted nature. Despite the temptations all around, he’d resisted his urges ever since he’d arrived. But he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out. The entire phae court had never called to him like this lone human woman, with her amusement and misgivings, her intensity and her lush body…
“…call you?” she was saying.
He blinked at her. “Pardon?”
“I said,” she drew out the word slowly, “what’s your name?”
“Hugo.” His name–which had been his all his life, and then some–sounded archaic when he said it to her. “Hugo de Grava.”
“Hugo? What sort of name… Okay, Hugh,” she said. “Since you’ve been stalking me, obviously you know who I am. And whatever you might be thinking after looking at that photo, I’m a serious journalist. Or was…”
“What happened?”
The question popped out before he could squelch it. Curiosity had always gotten the better of him, even when he’d been a small boy. Ultimately, curiosity had been his doom, and it would have been again if the incandescent fury in her eyes had been burning arrows launched his way.
“You don’t get to ask the questions,” she said between gritted teeth. “That’s my job.”
He inclined his head.
“So let me ask you,” she said. “Is your deal with Barrows something that’s going to get us shot? Not a deal–breaker, but I want to be prepared. I did a piece on some survivalists outside town, and they were real grateful I only made them sound half as freaky as they are, so I know I can get my hands on some bulletproof vests and transponder beacons if you think this could go sideways.”
He didn’t quite follow all her words, but from the sparkle in her eye, she would have made a splendid warrior maid. Still, for all her boldness, he did not think she was ready to hear that the phae king and his mate suspected Deon Barrows was a rogue phae or wereling himself. Certainly he was not human. His empire of lights was built on illusions. Oh, the walls were solid enough now, and the lucre brought in by his games could be spent and re–spent–unlike phae gold–but at its core, it was lies.
No wonder Avery Hill with her keen instincts had chosen Barrows as her target.
He shook his head slowly. “I can’t give you the details–” He held up his hand when she started to protest. “Yet. Suffice to say, when he becomes aware of my presence, he will demand a meeting. You may accompany me.”
She eyed him. “And you’d do this for me why?”
“I told you. I need your other expertise.”
“With little green men.” Her tone was flat.
“And their like.”
She quirked her lips to one side as she turned to take a few steps away from him. “So sexy,” she murmured. “Too bad he’s crazy.”
He knew he was too far and she had spoken too softly for him to hear her. If he’d been human himself. Maybe it was time to start challenging her belief in what was real. “I am not crazy,” he said.
She spun to face him. “What?”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “There is a rehearsal later tonight of the Christmas Eve parade tomorrow. I suspect Barrows will attend. Even if he doesn’t, someone from his senior staff will be there, and once they see me, they’ll take me to him.”
Avery studied him. “Why will they want you?”
Since she’d just said she found him sexy, he would forgive the note of doubt in her voice. “Everyone does,” he said. “It’s my curse.”
He turned away from her and strode deeper into the casino.
“Wait.” The muffled thud of her footsteps followed behind him. “Where are you–where are we going?”
“To kill time.” The phrase made his lips twist, though he remembered in time to hide his fangs.
Like most of the edifices in this city, ComeTrue had an extravagant entry. But the farther one went in, the rooms became even more outlandish. The simple repeating floral design in the carpet became wildly twisted, each step impossibly different from the last. Instead of the orderly rows of gambling tables and machines, the devices became peculiar–some as large as thrones, some tiny on pedestals, some didn’t even seem to take money, which left the question what sort of payment they did take–and the boisterous clanging shifted to mellow gongs and even more odd whispers.
“This is…” Avery took several long steps to bring herself to his shoulder.
He shortened his stride just enough to match her. “Crazy?”
She cast him a sidelong glance. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He wouldn’t let sentiment stop him from breaking open her narrow worldview.
He led them to a dark bar at the dead end of a tangled pathway of slots. A dozen round tables, lit only by small pendant lamps, were surrounded by high–backed half–circle banquette seating. Translucent curtains beaded with faceted glass teardrops meandered between and around the tables, shimmering like sheets of rain over a pond of lily pads at night.
As they stripped off their coats and slid into one of the velvet–lined booths, Avery glanced at him. Her wide eyes glimmered in the ambient light. “Trippy, dude,” she said. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d pick this as your watering hole.”
“I stumbled on it accidentally,” he admitted. “Amazing what you can find when you’re lost.”
She smiled.
It was the first time she had done so, at least in his view, even though he’d been following her for days. The hint of white teeth behind her curved lips hit him low in the gut: a death blow, had it been a sword.
God, she made him think of weapons and beds at the same time. He’d become even more twisted than he guessed in his time with the phae.
“Men,” she said. “You never ask for directions.”
He was not a man. Not anymore.
Because of the curve of the table, they were sitting not across from each other but more at an angle. If he were to reach out, he could gather her under his arm. “What would you ask me?”
For a moment, he thought she would shrug off the question, but then she propped her elbows on the table and leaned toward him. Though the table beneath her arm was a lighted screen, enticing them to games of chance, her green gaze was brigh
ter yet and fixed on him without wavering. “Do you believe in aliens?”
He’d only read some of her work, so he wasn’t sure how much he understood. But he could see by the set of her eyebrows she did not believe he should believe. Still, he had to start changing her mind or the truth would hurt more than was needful. “I think no one knows everything. And sometimes we confess even less than we know.”
She gave him a slow blink. “I bet you’re a fine dancer with those smooth moves.”
Dancing? He hadn’t danced… in a very long time. “Once I was,” he mused.
A human woman in a short skirt wheeled past their table, barely pausing to ask, “What can I get you?”
“Vodka cranberry,” Avery said.
Hugo held up two fingers, and the woman continued her circuit.
“Hugh, I gotta tell you, this is the second weirdest date I’ve ever been on,” Avery said. “And that’s saying something.”
He frowned, realizing he did not like being second with her. “What was the first?”
“Guy took me to a Stonehenge replica in Oregon and told me if we scattered mushroom spores in a circle on the winter solstice and stripped naked while chanting our heart’s desire, we’d open a door to another dimension.”
She laughed once. Hugo smiled carefully. If the spores were primed with phae magic, such a portal might indeed appear. “You don’t have to get naked with me.”
Her smile twisted to something more wry. “I think that’s the nicest thing any guy I’ve dated has ever said to me.”
“I am not any guy.”
“I see that.”
She didn’t. Not yet. And he found himself uncertain–not reluctant–how to reveal the truth.
There was one quick and undeniable way, of course. Or, actually, two pointed ways…
But instead of flashing his fangs, he took a swallow of the drink that appeared almost magically at his elbow as the server sped by. She pulled the beaded curtain closed around their little table, cloaking them in shifting, shimmering shadows. In the low light, the claret of the drink reminded him of the first night after his change, waking in confusion and horror and ravening hunger. Falling into the phaedrealii had saved him from that, at least. The blood of the phae was many colors, but rarely red.