by Alan Baxter
“Take your pick from the list we just made,” Rose said. “Or try tacky, kitschy, ugly. It’s just plain cheap and nasty, really.”
“Brummagem,” Crowley said with a grin and Rose laughed.
“Right.”
He pulled up beneath an overhang and a valet hurried to park the car for them. The man gave them a ticket which Crowley slipped into his wallet. They entered the casino and both paused, stunned by the immensity of the place, jammed with pseudo-Egyptian decor. The walls sloped up towards a point, obviously mirroring the external structure of the place, myriad glowing balconies looking down on them. There were entire buildings inside the place, an IMAX cinema, obelisks and giant carved pharaohs in stone thrones. Crowley grimaced, thinking it was no doubt all fiberglass and chipboard.
Inside, they headed to the concierge desk. At Crowley’s request, Cameron had worked some magic, and waiting for them was an envelope containing identification and credit cards for them both. Crowley’s identified him as James Crow. He mused on the fact that he hadn’t used that particular pseudonym for a long time. The identity seemed like a lifetime ago.
At the front desk, they learned they’d been given a single room with a queen-sized bed. No doubles were available. Rose raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
They headed up to their room, slightly perturbed about the motion of the elevator as it moved at a 45-degree angle, following the pyramid shape of the hotel. They entered the room and Rose stared for a moment at the one double bed.
“You heard the clerk,” Crowley said. “It’s all they had. Is it a problem?”
“Not for me,” Rose said. “But I was hoping there might be a fold-out sofa or something. You’re going to be uncomfortable on the floor.”
Crowley couldn’t prevent the wave of frustration, though he knew she owed him nothing. He simply couldn’t get past the fact that before they had been growing so close, and then she’d cut him off after the Landvik situation. Gone cold, utterly.
“I’ll be okay,” he said, determined not to be a dick about it. “I’ve slept in a lot worse places than a hotel room floor.”
Rose smiled, put a hand briefly to his cheek. “Thanks.”
“What happened between us?” he asked. As her face began to shape into outrage, he quickly said. “I don’t mean any presumption, I wouldn’t expect us to share a bed. But there’s a distance here that didn’t exist after we got back from Lindisfarne. In the hospital in Edinburgh with Cameron, things were… good, you know? I’m not expecting anything, really. I’m just confused about what happened after that. You’ve never explained why there’s suddenly this new remoteness between us.”
Rose opened her mouth, eyes narrowed, like she was about to finally reveal some deep truth. Then she let it go, her eyes widening again and she plastered on a smile. “We’re too tense. This is Vegas. Let’s dress up and go have some fun.”
Crowley frowned, shook his head slightly. He didn’t want to push her, but something was up and he needed to know what. Partly for his own peace of mind, even his own ego, but also because he was worried about Rose and what she was hiding from him. And why.
“I need a break,” Rose said. “We both do. For one night, let’s not think about Lily, Anubis, or anything else.” She smiled and it was genuine. She gave him a sly wink, tilted her head to one side.
Crowley refused to read anything more into that than exactly what she’d said. He knew his own needs and biases were likely to make him think too much of simple gestures, but he had to admit it sounded like a good idea. Blowing off some steam would do them both good. Though he was puzzled by her sudden change of demeanor. Was she keeping something from him to protect him? He could only nod.
Rose grinned and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Chapter 36
Luxor Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas
Crowley woke to a thumping headache and refused to open his eyes. A groan escaped him as he turned over on the hard floor and pressed his face into the pillow. The carpet was nice enough, and he genuinely had no issue sleeping on the floor. It would probably do his back a world of good. There were plenty of extra pillows and blankets too. But despite all that, he felt awful. And it was entirely self-induced. His stomach churned, he desperately needed to pee, but refused to rise just yet.
Through the maelstrom of ache and self-pity, he tried to recall the night before. They had certainly blown off some steam. Rose had been right, they both needed it. Vague images passed over his mind’s eye. Gambling, laughing, drinking, even dancing at one point in a club somewhere. More drinking. There had been a moment too when they held each other tightly during a slow song, and Rose had said something that he hadn’t quite caught. He’d asked her to repeat it, but the alcohol was back under control and she shook her head, smiled, gave him a quick, hot kiss on the lips.
“Not now,” she’d said, and then the music had struck up again and she’d laughed and twirled away. They ended up back at the hotel casino and Crowley smiled, patted the pocket of his jacket on the floor beside him. Sure enough, there was a thick wad of bills in there. He’d struck a sweet winning streak late in the night and pulled down a few thousand dollars. Then they’d quit while they were ahead, to the scowls of the dealer.
They had come up to the room and Crowley had very little recollection of any details. In fact, after the big win and deciding to call it a night he couldn’t even remember riding the elevator or arriving at the room. He lifted the blankets and willed his eyes to unstick for a look. He still wore his pants and shirt from the night before, just his jacket, shoes and socks removed.
He frowned. The light was too bright and he had clearly been the perfect gentleman. He groaned again as he sat up and looked across to the double bed. The sheets were disheveled, but the bed was empty.
The bathroom door opened just enough for Rose to poke her head out, clouds of steam swirling around her bare shoulders. “Morning! I was about to wake you.”
“You’re perky,” he said, his voice thick and gravelly. He cleared his throat as she laughed at him.
“You’re not!” She disappeared from the door, then quickly returned wrapped in a thick, fleecy robe. “Get in there and have a shower, shave, all that. I’ll order up a big room service breakfast. Treat ourselves.”
Crowley forced a grin. “We can afford it.”
“We sure can. I can’t believe how much you won last night.”
“It’ll keep us going for a while.” He stood, winced against the extra throb in his head, but tried to ignore it. “It was a good night, wasn’t it?”
Rose put her hand, hot from the shower, against his cheek. “It really was, Jake. Go clean up.”
Crowley had to admit the hot shower was a good idea. When he emerged in clean clothes, the room was redolent with the aromas of coffee and bacon, and his stomach growled. He sat with Rose, who had waited for him, and they silently devoured the generous portions including eggs, toast, buttered mushrooms and hash browns. After a silent ten minutes, Crowley sat back with a sigh, patted his stomach.
“Man, that’s better.”
Rose dug around in her bag, then produced a packet of analgesics. He took a couple gratefully, swallowed them down with the last of his coffee.
“Fully operational again?” he asked.
Rose grinned. “Like a completed Death Star?”
“What?”
She sighed. “I really have to get you in front of some books and films. Your pop culture education is sorely lacking.”
He shook his head, smiling. “Whatever. So, we’ve got the Grand Canyon tour today.”
“We have. The last purchase on Lily’s credit card was that tour, so I booked the same agency, same tour.”
“Good idea.”
Rose stood, brushed herself down. “I just need to use the bathroom, then we’d better get moving.”
As the bathroom door clicked locked behind her, Rose’s phone rang. Crowley saw the number was from Dragoon, Arizona. It must be the roadsi
de museum calling back. He took up the phone, answered it.
“You the folks wanted to know about a lady called Lily came through here?”
“That’s right, we’re trying to find her. She’s missing.”
“Well, that surely is bad news.”
“It is,” Crowley agreed. “Can you tell me anything about what she did there? You talked to her?”
“I did. Had a brief chat but wasn’t able to help her.”
Crowley frowned, wondered how best to ask the right questions that might trigger the right memories. “What was she specifically asking about?”
The old man hummed down the line as he thought. “Well, she asked about the origins of The Thing. She specifically wanted to know if it had any connection to a man named Kinkaid.”
Crowley scribbled the name down on a napkin stained with egg yolk. “Who’s that?”
“I have no idea, and I told her that, too. I told her the mummy was donated anonymously years ago, and without any account of its origin. It’s a mystery, and no mistake.”
“Can you tell me anything about it?” Crowley asked. “Is there anything at all that’s not a mystery?”
“Well, I can tell you what I told your missing friend. We don’t actually know anything, but rumor has it that the mummy was found somewhere in the Grand Canyon.”
The trails converged again, Crowley thought. That’s where they were going anyway, without any more information than they had the day before. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks very much for calling. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you find your friend.”
“So do I. Thanks again. Goodbye.”
“Take care now, and God bless.”
Crowley hung up as Rose emerged from the bathroom.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you on the way. Let’s go.”
Crowley and Rose stood on the sidewalk outside the casino with about a dozen other tourists, all waiting for the tour bus to arrive. Crowley’s head was beginning to clear and he listened casually to the conversations around him. Everyone was excited about the Grand Canyon, some first-timers, others extolling its virtues from previous visits as if they were the tour guides. One guy, somewhere in his fifties, with a paunch and a know-it-all face, was busily explaining geological phenomena to a group of three young women who were clearly not interested. One even rolled her eyes and turned her back, so the man moved around to be in front of all three again, completely oblivious. The three girls laughed and shook their heads at each other.
“That guy could mansplain at an Olympic level,” Rose said, face creased in a frown.
“And here’s me thinking the golf was a boring Olympic event to watch.”
Rose grinned at Crowley. “Hey, at least there are some people into golf.”
Crowley watched the man still gamely explaining things the three girls didn’t want to know. “I bet if they televised this there’d be guys who thought it was great viewing.”
“MRA meetings?” Rose wondered.
“Redpill TV!” Crowley said and they both laughed.
The man turned to look at them, some moment of self-awareness perhaps. He had one eyebrow raised.
Crowley smiled at him. “Those girls were thoroughly fascinated by the depth of your knowledge; look.”
The man turned back to see the girls had quickly moved away and stood huddled together, giggling. The mansplainer harrumphed and folded his arms just as the tour bus pulled up. The guide, a short, pot-bellied guy with an unkempt beard, glasses, and a fanny pack strapped across his doughy midsection, stood on the steps as the door hissed open and welcomed them all in a loud, croaky voice. He seemed oblivious to the early hour and his passenger’s bleary eyes.
“Come aboard, grab a seat, I’ll tell you more about the tour on the way there.”
Crowley and Rose boarded and Crowley watched the three girls wait for the man who had bored them to choose a seat before they got on the bus. Once he had sat down, they came on and chose a spot as far from him as possible. The man saw Crowley watching and shot him an acid look. Crowley raised his palms and shrugged, but couldn’t help chuckling. Some people.
The guide introduced himself as Giles and started to explain the journey and how long it would take. He droned on with weak jokes and boring anecdotes, which Crowley tuned out as he let his eyes close and his head rest against the seat back. For all the improvement in his condition since he had awoken, he still felt as though he could sleep for a solid week if given half a chance.
He realized he had dozed off when Rose jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.
“We’re just pulling into the Hualapai Indian Reservation,” she said.
Giles was still waffling and Crowley looked up as he said, “And don’t forget to keep an eye open for the lost Egyptian city!”
Crowley and Rose exchanged a glance. “Let’s wait till everyone’s off and ask,” Crowley said. Once they had parked up and everyone had disembarked, Crowley and Rose stood to leave last. Giles smiled patiently as they approached.
“So what was that about the Egyptian City?” Crowley asked.
Giles laughed. “It’s just a local legend, but if you want to hear the story, go to the Grand Canyon Skywalk office and ask for Shepherd.”
“Shepherd,” Crowley said. “That a first name, last name, or nickname?”
Giles shrugged. “All I knows is the man is old, crotchety, and easily offended. Don’t piss him off.”
Chapter 37
Grand Canyon west rim, Sky Walk
Crowley and Rose moved away from the bus and both stopped dead, staring. The Grand Canyon yawned before them, epic in scale. Crowley had never been before, had only seen it in photos and on TV. To be standing before it, he felt less than insignificant. A speck in the universe, an ant on the face of Everest.
“Wow,” Rose breathed.
“You’ve never seen it before, either?”
“No. It’s amazing.”
The rock faces were orange with the early sun, striations of light and dark topped with rolling domes and deep fissures. In places, the cliffs sloped down, or sliced into the space of the canyon like knives. In other places the walls were sheer drops, inconceivable distances. After they had stared for a few minutes, Crowley pointed.
“The Skywalk is that way.”
A building of brick and orange fascia with gold-tinted windows stood right on the edge of the canyon not far away. On the far side of it, an arch of orange metal and glass reached out into space above a sheer canyon wall that dropped out of sight into depths unknown.
“Oh, hell no,” Rose said in a whisper.
“We only have to talk to someone inside,” Crowley said, hoping he was right. He had no real fear of heights, but a structure like that seemed to him to be tempting fate. He was a history teacher, not an engineer. He had trouble dealing with this kind of human denial of nature.
They entered the building and found themselves, not surprisingly, in a large and well-stocked gift shop. Rich, savory smells drifted to them from a nearby café. The only person in view was an old man behind the ticket counter. Crowley walked over, smiled warmly.
“Is Shepherd here?”
“Shepherd?”
“Yeah, I was told he was the person I needed to talk to.”
The old man smiled. “That right? Well, if you want to see him, you’ll need to buy a ticket.”
Crowley grimaced, then looked out of the large windows towards the Skywalk arcing out into nothingness. A lone old man strolled along it, a Native American in a security guard’s uniform. Crowley gave a curt nod. “Two tickets then, please.”
“Jake!” Rose said, alarmed. “I’m not sure about that!” She pointed.
Crowley had already seen it. Not only did the walkway curve far out into thin air, its floor was clear glass. “It’ll be okay,” he said, as much to himself as to Rose. “Come on.”
He took the tickets from the old man and they headed out. Rose looke
d doubtfully at the transparent deck hanging over the sheer wall, but took a deep breath and stepped onto it. Crowley followed, a strange vertigo causing his stomach to lift and turn over as he walked seemingly in the open air. The canyon wall fell away from them, the rock-strewn bottom impossibly far below.
“Wooo, I feel like I’m flying,” Rose said, spinning in a circle with her arms out to either side.
“You’re enjoying this now?” Crowley couldn’t help laughing. “I’m not well enough over my hangover for this kind of activity.”
“You can’t deny the experience is surreal.”
And he had to admit it was. A warm breeze blew over the glass sides of the walkway and ruffled their hair, birds wheeled high above, the incredible landscape stretched away from them in every direction, even down.
“I wonder if Lily came here?” Rose said as they reached the apex of the arch. She put her hands on the railing and leaned forward, looking into the vanishing distance.
“Perhaps she’s somewhere down in the canyon even now,” Crowley said.
The security guard pacing the skywalk, apparently watching out for cameras, which were strictly forbidden, began his walk back towards them from the far side.
As he approached, Crowley said, “Excuse me, are you Shepherd?”
The guard shook his head. “Shepherd is inside. The man who sold you tickets.”
Crowley couldn’t help but laugh, and Rose joined him. “Scoundrel!” she said
They took a last look at the breathtaking views, then made their way around the arch and back inside. Shepherd grinned at them from behind his counter, his skin deeply wrinkled, long iron-gray hair pulled back in a ponytail tied with a leather lace. “I never said I was working on the Skywalk,” he said. “Only that you’d have to buy a ticket if you wanted to talk to me.”
“You just conveniently left out the bit about it being you,” Crowley said.
Shepherd let his shoulders lift and drop as he let out a cackling laugh. “What is it you want anyway?”