Cora tilted her head and offered him a teasing smirk. “I dunno; got anything good in your nightstand that you’re keeping from me?”
“Just more human skin for my bookbinding hobby.”
She snorted and shoved him lightly by the shoulder. “You’re gross. Go on into your weird demon cellar and get out of my face.”
Thomas hesitated just a moment, as if he had more to say, but then he pressed his lips together, gave a brief nod, and turned his back on her, crouching to run his hand over the floor and click the trap door open just enough to hook his fingers under. In another moment, the cellar snapped shut again, leaving only the smooth, dusty wooden floor.
8
The Aurora bar was on the casino floor of the Luxor hotel, the small seating area surrounded by chiming and blinking slot machines. Elton followed Nathan past the small tables and plush chairs decorated in red and gold and into the bar area proper, where glass lights hung from above in shimmering blue, green, and pink, their flowing movement mimicking the borealis namesake of the bar itself. Tall stools with red leather seats lined the bar, and Nathan led them beyond where video screens sat at intervals in the slick black bartop and took a seat near the end.
The bartender approached them and laid down a pair of square napkins for them as she smiled.
“Evening, gentlemen,” she offered brightly. “What can I get for you?”
“A dark and stormy, with Mount Gay if you have it, please, dear,” Nathan said, leaning his elbows on the edge of the bar.
“You got it, handsome. And for you?”
Elton glanced around her, uncertain. He had never been a big drinker—he didn’t like the distant, unfocused feeling. “What do you have on tap?”
Nathan tutted audibly at him before the woman could answer. “Do better than that, darling,” he insisted. “This is a rare occasion. Have a real drink.”
“Beer is a real drink,” Elton protested.
“Maybe at a hockey rink. This is Las Vegas. Have some liquor.”
The blond sighed as the bartender let out a chuckle and gave a shrug of agreement. “Fine. Crown and soda, please.”
“That’s better,” Nathan smiled, and the woman turned from them to fetch their drinks. She shortly placed a low, squat glass in front of Elton and set down a highball for Nathan.
“You boys let me know when you need some more, okay?”
“We will,” Nathan assured her. “Thank you.”
Elton lifted his drink to take a sip, but he stopped halfway there when Nathan swatted him on the arm.
“Ah ah ah. First a toast.” Nathan lifted his glass and held it toward the other man. “To unlikely friends.”
Elton didn’t move. “You’re not my friend.”
Nathan scoffed at him. “So cold, darling. You’re my friend.”
“No, I’m not. We’re partners, at best. For now.”
“Well, have it your way, then, darling. Sante.” He clinked his glass against Elton’s and took a long drink.
Elton set his glass back down without drinking and shifted on his stool to better face his companion. “So, this man Marquez told us about—”
“No, no, no,” Nathan interrupted. “We’re not discussing business tonight.”
“We need to have a plan for this, Nathan.”
“We have travel time to make a plan in. You need to relax, Elton. At least once in the time I’ve known you.”
Elton stared at him, frowning and uncertain as he scanned Nathan’s smirking face. “Fine,” he said at last. “But you make me a promise.”
“You have only to give it voice, darling.”
“No drugs.” Nathan quirked an eyebrow at him, but he went on before he could be interrupted again. “I don’t mind drinking, gambling, whatever you think relaxing looks like—but no drugs. Or I’ll drive you out into the desert and bury you.”
Nathan put a hand to his heart. “You have my solemn word, Elton.”
Elton nodded, then lifted his glass and took a long, deep swallow, letting the smooth liquor warm his throat. “Have it your way, then,” he murmured, echoing Nathan’s words but not turning to look at the other man’s sly smile.
“We also really should try to get you laid.”
The blond sputtered into his drink and touched the back of his hand to his lips to check for spills. “What’s that?”
Nathan glanced up to the ceiling as though he was thinking as he counted on his fingers. “You’ve been traveling around with me for weeks. Before that, you were in jail for six months. Before that, you were estranged from your wife and on ‘business trips’ for who knows how long. How long has it been, Elton?”
“I’m not—” Elton’s lips formed a thin line as he frowned, and he lowered his gaze to hide the faint heat he felt blossoming in his cheeks. “I’m not worried about that.”
“You should be!” Nathan laughed. “A man needs some release every now and then. You say you won’t have me, and unless you’ve been very sneaky in the hotel rooms—”
“Nope,” Elton cut him off. “No. Not having this conversation.”
He sighed. “You’re no fun at all, do you know that?” Nathan waved dismissively at him. “Fine. We don’t have to talk about it. I’ll just help you make sure it happens.”
“Do not do that.”
“Mhm. Yes, darling; whatever you say.”
“Nathan—”
“Drink up, Elton. I want to play cards.”
***
Nathan was happy to lead the way through the evening—after another round of drinks, he sat them down at a blackjack table, but Elton was seemingly incapable of winning a single hand, and they were asked to leave the table after Nathan not-so-subtly tried to pass Elton one of his own cards. They tried slot machines, Nathan lamenting the fact that modern casinos only printed receipts instead of filling giant plastic cups with nickels, and they drank more every time a waitress passed them by. Elton took Nathan by the back of his collar more than once when the other man attempted to follow beckoning women into the ladies’ room, and once even had to swat the other man’s hands away from him at the urinal, but his own head was growing too fuzzy to put up much protest when Nathan suggested they make the move to an actual nightclub.
They walked the strip together, Elton’s jacket abandoned back in the hotel room, his tie loosened, and both of them breathing in smoke from their cigarettes and made their way to a dark and crowded club inside a different casino. The decorative silver accents glistened in the flashing lights, a glittering facade over the sweaty, drunken mass of bodies within, and the pounding music was deafening and heavy in Elton’s chest. Balconies encircled the expansive dance floor, and twin bars lined two of the outer walls, so Nathan led them to the nearer one and made a place for them at the end. He ordered drinks for both of them, a shot of rum and whisky each, and despite Elton’s protests that he’d had enough, when Nathan goaded him, the blond glared at him and swallowed the burning liquid down. Elton did put a hand on Nathan’s chest to force him away when the other man tried to urge him out to dance. Nathan waved away his protests with a disdainful scoff and turned his attention to the writhing dancers spread across the room instead, drumming his fingers on the bar as he scanned the crowd.
Elton leaned against the bar and ran a weary hand over his face. He couldn’t remember ever having drunk so much. His vision was blurred around the edges, and his tongue felt thick in his dry mouth. Nathan was in an exasperatingly good mood—Elton could tell by the look on his face that he was searching the club for someone likely to return to the hotel with him. He leaned back toward Elton to speak to him—about the city itself, or where they might find some food after a while, or that they would have time to take in a show, if only they could stay one more day—but the words were muffled by drink and lack of interest. How had Elton gotten here? In Las Vegas, drunk and sharing a hotel room with the man who had been the object of his obsession for so many years, the source of hope for the chance to prove himself. All of that was gone now. And Na
than would be so pleased with himself that he’d convinced Elton to come out at all.
He reached a hand out to grip Nathan firmly by the shoulder and pulled him close to talk beneath the thumping of the music.
“I lost my fucking wife for you,” he growled into the other man’s ear.
Nathan had the audacity to laugh. “Pardon?”
“My wife left me. I gave up promotions. Lost out on opportunities. All because I was so fucking caught up in finding you.”
Nathan gave Elton’s forearm a gentle pat, but the blond didn’t release him. “I’m flattered, darling, really—”
“No,” Elton snapped. “Shut up. I put everything on hold because I thought that tracking you down would actually do some good and make me—and be worthwhile,” he corrected himself. “And now what? I fucking found you, and I’m nothing but a homeless, wanted murderer.”
“Elton,” Nathan sighed.
“You ruined my life.”
Nathan was trying and failing to bite back his smile, his hand still on his companion’s arm. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a sorrowful drunk.”
“Fuck you,” Elton spat, giving the other man a light shove as he let go of his shoulder.
“And such language as well,” Nathan laughed as he steadied himself, leaning an elbow on the bar to keep close enough to the blond to hear him.
“I thought you were going to be a monster,” Elton went on, ignoring Nathan’s jibe. “A sociopath serial killer. I thought I’d make a name for myself with you. But you’re not like the reports. You’re not some calculating villain. You’re a chainsmoking drunk with impulse control issues. And I gave everything up for you. For this?” He gestured toward Nathan as though the movement could encompass the breadth of his disappointment with him.
“Now you listen here, Mr. Willis.” Nathan rapped his knuckles on the bar and tilted his head at the other man. “There’s more than one way to make a name for yourself. You think those people we’ve sent back to Mr. Proctor are going to forget you? Or the council? Or your wife, for that matter? You aren’t invisible, Elton—you’re just on a different path. A good one. One that many men simply couldn’t stomach. You wouldn’t be happy any other way.” He edged a little closer to the blond, who still only stared at him with a sour, skeptical frown. “Picture yourself—home in time for supper, a couple of children shrieking for your attention, spending your days punishing minor crimes and sending people to be tortured for them—that’s the life you gave up. I don’t think you’re built for it,” he said simply. “I’ve never seen you so satisfied as when you came back from punishing that Magister’s murderous son, or when you had that greedy snake Maduro strung up as an example for all to see. This is the life you’re made for.”
Elton looked down at the bar rather than meet Nathan’s black eyes. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair to move the stray wisps from his face. A quiet, empty scoff fell from his lips. “A life like yours?”
“In all ways but one,” Nathan purred, leaning in close to the blond and touching a single finger to his chin to draw his gaze upward. “Have you thought about what’s going to happen to me when you get old, Elton?”
Elton narrowed his eyes at him, his liquor-fogged brain too sluggish for nuance. “You’ll be old by then, too.”
“Shall I?”
The blond paused, and a spark of realization worked its way up the back of his neck, drying up a bit of the alcohol in his blood. Nathan would kill again. He would use the arcela airet and start the whole cycle over again—only this time, Elton wouldn’t be there to rein him in. He finally locked eyes with the other man and shuddered at the slow, predatory smile he found on his face.
“Ah, you understand,” Nathan murmured. “Someday you’ll leave me all alone, to my own devices, to carry on as I please. Unless—” He paused, tapping his chin with one finger as though the thought had only just occurred to him. “Unless you don’t.”
Elton recoiled on instinct. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”
“I could teach you,” he went on, moving forward for every inch Elton leaned back. “Think of how many more lives you could save, how much more good you could do, how many real villains could be punished—how many corrupt and cruel oppressors would cower and tremble at the sound of your name while they waited for the justice of your coming? If only you had more time.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Elton tried to sound forceful despite the churn in his stomach the notion caused. “I’m not using that spell.”
“I know you aren’t squeamish, darling. What’s the difference between what I’m suggesting and what we did this afternoon?”
“The difference is between killing someone who deserves it because they deserve it and killing someone for my own gain. It’s not the same.”
“Think about the greater good, then. Beyond yourself.”
“You don’t care about the greater good,” Elton sneered.
“But you do.” Nathan smiled at the hesitation that Elton was certain had crept into his eyes. “And I don’t think you realize how easy—”
“Enough.” Elton turned his face away and stepped back from the bar. “It’s not on the table.”
“Fine, fine,” Nathan sighed. He reached across to drain the last shot Elton had left untouched and tapped the glass back to the bar upside-down. “Then if you’re going to be depressing, I’m going to dance.”
Before Elton could comment, Nathan was gone, winding through the crowd into the colored lights and pounding bass. The blond just shook his head and moved back to put some distance between himself and the sickly scent of alcohol that saturated the bar itself. He let his head lean back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to still the swirling in his vision. He lost track of the time he spent there, letting the music drown out his thoughts, but he returned to reality at the touch of a pair of thin hands to his chest.
A young woman, laughing and unsteady on her high heels, had settled herself against him, and she paused to push long, dark hair out of her eyes before splaying manicured hands back over his shirt.
“Look at you,” she said with a smile, briefly catching her bottom lip in her teeth and glancing down to pick at one of the buttons on his vest. “So serious and handsome. You shouldn’t be over here all alone. Come and dance, honey!”
Elton lifted his hands, but he had no room to back away from the invasion. “No thanks,” he said, not quite willing to lay hands on her and push her away.
More laughter bubbled out of the woman, and she slid a hand up to hook one finger underneath the loosened knot of his tie. “He said you’d play hard to get,” she murmured, peeking up at him through thick eyelashes.
“He?”
She was suddenly pressed closer against him, and Nathan appeared behind her, his hands caressing her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. He nuzzled the loose hair at the base of her neck, drawing a giggle from her, but his dark eyes were locked onto Elton with an intensity that made the blond shudder. “Come on, darling,” he purred, his low voice cutting straight to Elton’s ears even though the deafening music. “Play along. It would be so easy.”
Elton froze, his heart constricting in his chest as cold understanding washed over him. He knew exactly what Nathan meant. Easy for this girl to disappear. Easy to take her with them wherever they wanted and leave her a shrunken mass of dried bones on the side of a desert highway. Elton put his hands on the young woman’s shoulders and forced her gently away from him, slipping free of the narrow space between her body and the wall.
“No. Thank you,” he said again, unable to tear his eyes from Nathan’s stare as the other man released the woman back into the crowd. Elton did his best to hold firm under that steady gaze, but his resolve faltered the longer Nathan watched him. The painful racing of his heart had sobered him a little—but he wasn’t convinced that Nathan was drunk at all.
Nearby, a burly-looking man elbowed his way through the crowd and snatch
ed the woman roughly by the wrist, tugging her close to shout in her face. He called her a whore for touching other men and began to drag her forcefully toward the door while she cringed and fought against his grip. Nathan turned to stand beside Elton and leaned against the blond’s side, one arm resting casually on the slightly taller man’s shoulder. He smirked up at his companion’s troubled expression.
“Maybe he’s a little more your style, hm? You see how he treats her?”
“Stop it,” Elton murmured, not nearly as firmly as he meant to.
“Wouldn’t she be better off without him? Wouldn’t everyone?”
“Stop it!”
Nathan went quiet then, but he was smiling as he watched his companion’s furrowed brow. There was no chance Elton’s churning stomach wasn’t showing on his face. If he had agreed, Nathan would have killed that woman without a second thought. He would have devoured her whole and spit out her bones—left her to dissolve into dust and blow away just for the sake of his own eternal vanity. That was who Elton was traveling with. That was Nathaniel Moore. Elton closed his hands into fists at his sides to control the faint shake that began in them. He’d almost forgotten. What troubled him even more was that—in some ways—Nathan was right. Wouldn’t the world be better off without a man like that in it?
“I’m not talking about this anymore,” he finally said. He turned his face away but couldn’t bring himself to brush the other man’s arm from his shoulder. “Let’s have another drink.”
9
Cora had been staring into her new scrying mirror for a while, running her fingertips over the smooth, dark surface, and picking through the bag of herbs and stones Thomas had left her with. He’d said the mirror could be treated, but hadn’t told her how, and hadn’t given her any guidance for actually using the thing at all. So, not super helpful, but she was grateful that he’d opened up to her, at least a little. It would make it much easier to stay in the dreary house if her roommate wasn’t quite so surly.
The Left-Hand Path Page 8