Chapter Six

He delivered a weary Pepper back to her room and accepted her dismissal against his better judgment. The desire to sweep her room for magical interference overwhelmed him, but she’d planted her hand against his chest and shook her head. Brushing off her rejection wouldn’t do, he’d pushed her hard enough for one day. 

So he let her go and went back to his room to check the recordings. It was none of his damn business if she wanted to stay. He saw conspiracies everywhere—it was what the Royale did to people. Fed off their hopes, dreams, and fears. Chances were high she’d enjoy her vacation and go home without any trouble whatsoever. And just because she could leave didn’t mean they hadn’t anticipated my need to check that facet of her. She was so tired when I left her. Too tired. Maybe it took everything in her to be beyond its walls. It worried him. 

The fact that he worried troubled him more.

Opening the door to his room, the scent of cedar and cut grass burned his nostrils. His skin tightened and itched with the sensation of thousands of ants crawling across his body. Whatever—or whoever—had been in his room leaked magic like mad and it lay over everything. He checked his laptop and found it dead. Completely fried. The cameras in his supply pack were equally disabled.

Everywhere—whatever it was had been everywhere in his room. He ran his palm across the desk. The magic clung like cobwebs over his skin and he tore through them even as he soaked up the power. One by one, he shredded the spells until a fine layer of dust filmed the wood. The slender, octagon shaped wooden box sat exactly where he left it. The fine layer of magic on the room didn’t even disturb the air over it. Satisfied, he turned his attention to his things. It took him the better part of an hour to dispose of the trap spells layered throughout the room—they’d even bespelled the sheets.

Idiots. Either they didn’t know his protections or they didn’t care. This was beyond the work of an amateur, it was more like a child had bounced off all the walls. The knock at his door didn’t help his mood. He checked the peephole and sighed. Fairuk. The woman wouldn’t give up. He considered ignoring her, but the thought of Pepper walking down the hall and seeing the stranger out there held little appeal. Freeing the locks, he pulled the door open. “What, Fairuk?”

Her black eyes held reproach, and the half-veil hid the rest of her mutinous expression. “May I come in?”

Checking the hall, his gaze lingered on Pepper’s door just two away from his own. He motioned Fairuk to enter and stalked over to the windows. He’d opened the curtains wide to let in the sunshine. Most of the rooms in the casino could be modified to suit the whim of the owner. His looked like any other generic hotel room in any city in the world. The dancer’s presence here in this homogenous setting was as out of place as a car seat on a camel.

“What do you want?” He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. He needed to decide whether he wanted to pursue his mother’s disappearance or head back to Washington and get on with his real work.

“You know what I desire. Vengeance, I believe you said.” She bowed her head, offering a demure, submissive picture. She really shouldn’t have left her job in the theatre, the consummate actress was a professional liar.

“Well don’t hold back, Fairuk. Tell me how you really feel.” Finn leaned back against the desk and folded his arms. Everything about being in the hotel aggravated him right now.

“I feel like you are the only living legacy of Marguerite DuBois.” She shed the façade of passivity and stalked toward him. “You came here to deliver justice like the hand of God.”

“I’m not the hand of God and vengeance is hardly justice. You want me to destroy the Arcana Royale.” Might as well put their cards on the table.

“Yes.” She practically hissed the word. Her hands tightened into fists. “They take and take and take—they cannot be allowed to take her too.”

“You seem to be under the misguided notion that she was a victim in all of this. Overseers aren’t victims. They’re ones who roll the dice. Sometimes the House loses, but don’t deceive yourself. She controlled your fate and she could have cut you off at anytime.” Fairuk’s continued existence niggled at him. She belonged, body and soul to his mother—or so he thought. If Marguerite were truly dead, shouldn’t Fairuk have been extinguished as well? 

The rules said that Overseers do not allow their personal identities to be known. In the past, he knew of more than one child turned out—sacrificed to the altar of their power. Sometimes he envied those children—his life might have been kinder if his mother had turned away from him, but Marguerite had always played a dozen moves ahead. 

“They killed her.” Grief rent through Fairuk’s hostility. “They killed her and took her away from me.”

Maybe he didn’t care that his mother was finally dead. Perhaps her death meant his mortality was assured. She’d extended his life decades past when he should have died. “I’m sorry for your loss.” The words came out automatically. He’d comforted enough grieving families over the years to recognize she didn’t want reason or his side of anything. She wanted to lash out, she wanted to punish the people who hurt her—it didn’t matter why they acted as they did.

“You’re sorry for my loss?” Fairuk spat the words and hatred flared in her eyes. “Don’t be sorry. Be furious. Take them out, destroy them. I know what your mother did for you. I know you have the key—use it.”

Well, at least she was honest. “That’s why you sent me the message. That’s why you wanted me here.”

“Yes.” The air around her shimmered with hate. She didn’t want justice. She wanted destruction. “They take and take. They lure, entrap and destroy. Your mother was the only shining light in the darkness. If you won’t do something about it…”

He expected the move. Expected it from the moment she arrived. Fairuk only disappointed him by being so sloppy. She lunged forward, a knife appearing in her hand. He caught her wrist, bent it backwards. The bones ground together, snapping like dried sticks in a silent forest. The magic holding her tethered coalesced in the air around her.

Pity filled him.

The veil around her slipped away, the threads of residual magic barely stitching her desiccated form together. She’d been dead for a long time. Yes, his mother—the shining light—held her together like a patchwork quilt, spell work knitting together her soul with her body. Like swirling inkblots, her magic resisted him, but it also knew him. His mother laid that spell work. Fairuk attacked with her free hand, nails curling into his cheek and tearing. Sharp, scalding pain lit up his face, but he ignored it and wrapped a hand around her throat.

“I’m sorry, Fairuk. You should have been released when she died. But you don’t get to draw me like a weapon. I’m not your tool.” He didn’t have to apply pressure. The free flowing blood on his cheek and the scrapings of his skin under her nails were all that was needed.

Two spells collided and he inhaled her magic, pulling it out of her molecules, like a super-charged magnet. The dancer’s struggles ceased and she opened her mouth in soundless scream. Her skin went solid. Like porcelain.

Finn closed his eyes, but the dust of her explosion coated him and he choked, coughing. If nothing else let the Overseers know what he was capable of—the destruction of their property would.

A brisk knock on the door cut through the silence.

Of course…

Pepper stared at the bags of loot on her bed. What was I thinking? Shopping like she was actually on vacation. She’d been away from the theatre less than twenty-four hours and she’d lost track of what she was supposed to be doing. Room service delivered another pot of tea which she gulped down despite the harsh, scalding bitterness. It hurt her stomach and tasted foul, but she trusted Heidi’s advice. The stage manager told her to not miss a dose—she barely drank enough at breakfast. She’d hoped there would be instructions, but all she received was another pot of tea.

Anxious, she paced back and forth. She could call down to the desk and ask for someone to return all the items. Then she could go see Heidi and get her position back. She’d bungled the simplest of activities—distracting the agent. If he wants me to move out of the Arcana Royale it’s probably so I won’t distract him.

“Great job,” she growled and went into the bathroom. Pulling the braid free, she finger combed hair out. The wild crinkles used to be a style when she was a child, but she didn’t like it on her hair. She worked through the knots with a brush and then got it wet. If she soaked her hair down and blew it dry, she could get it closer to what it should look like.

Thirty minutes later, she changed into a dress, fixed her hair and repaired her cosmetics. The front desk promised to send a valet for the purchases. They would return everything and make sure the money was back on his cards. She considered her options and called back down to book reservations at the Midnight Mystery Lounge. Maybe she couldn’t perform, but she could go home and be near her girls. Heidi didn’t tell her she couldn’t watch.

The sunshine pouring in the window aggravated her. She loved the blue sky and walking on the heated sidewalks earlier had been a treat. But she wasn’t used to it, not anymore. Staring at the sun reminded her of time passing, an environmental clock ticking down.

How long do I have? If not for her agitation, she would have already taken a nap. But she didn’t want to lay down or waste her time. She checked her watch, hours until sunset and the theatre opening. What am I supposed to do until then?

Jitters warred with exhaustion and both left her tingling from head to toe. She needed to get out of the room. Get out and go downstairs. The Arcana Royale offered more entertainment than any two other resorts on the strip—surely she could find something to do. Gathering the bags together, she wrote a note for the valet and set it atop the pile. Purse in hand, she let herself out and headed down the hall toward the elevators, but she dragged her feet and stopped at Finn’s door.

Attentive. Concerned. Thoughtful. Fun.

She grimaced. He’d been all of those things and more. No matter what his agenda at the casino might be, she was hardly innocent. Exhaling, she knocked on the door. She listened for sound of movement, but heard only silence. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she glanced back at her room and then at his door again. Maybe he was in the shower. She knocked again.

“Pepper?” The door muffled his voice, but it couldn’t mute the race of her pulse.

“Yeah. I’m— I came by to say I’m sorry for being so crazy earlier. You were—you didn’t deserve crazy Pepper. I was hoping I might apologize and make it up to you by inviting you to catch a show or play the slots again. Maybe start over?” He didn’t respond and she pressed her palm against the door. “Finn?”

“Yeah, I’ve got to take care of a couple of things. I’m a bit of a mess right now and need a quick shower. I’ll meet you downstairs.” Was that a cough she heard? Was he going to pretend to be sick?

She hesitated. “I’ll meet you at our slot machines?” Maybe they could salvage this.

“I’ll bring the coins and meet you at the Monster House game.” That response did have enthusiasm in it.

“Can’t wait.” She rubbed a circle against the wood. “Don’t be long.”

“I won’t.”

Pivoting, she strode for the elevator before she lost her nerve. The doors slid open as soon as she hit the button. A dark haired man was already inside. He glanced up at her arrival and gave her a brief smile. The button for the lobby was already selected.

Sinatra piped through the elevator’s speakers and she canted her head. Of all the performers the town ever saw, none could compare to him. And best of all, he was human. 

She grinned. Maybe she wasn’t a nymph or a succubus or a vampire, but she didn’t have to be extraordinary to create something so magnificent. Maybe she could persuade Finn to return to the game they started the night before—that was fun.

“Miss Kirk?” 

Hearing her name like that startled her. She looked at the dark haired man. “Yes?” Wow…his eyes… His amazingly blue eyes filled her and the elevator diminished. Even Frank faded away.

“I told you not to go up there.” Heidi folded her arms and glared at Minion. The little imp was the darling of the dancers, with her red tufted ears and the owlish expressions in her too wide eyes. Somewhere between the size of a large house cat and a small bear cub, Minion created far too much trouble for one so tiny.

“But I miss Pepper. And I heard what that big, bad man said.” The little imp folded her arms, mirroring Heidi’s pose. Her long tail lashed back and forth like an agitated animal. “I wanted to know what a null was—”

“Minion.” Heidi pinched the bridge of her nose and bowed her head. Arguing with the little demon wouldn’t help either of them. The more she told her no, the more likely Minion would be to repeat the action. She exhaled. “What did you find?”

“Nothing. He’s boring.” The imp flopped on the desk and picked up one of the puzzle boxes to juggle from one clawed hand to the other. “He did have a cool wooden box, but it was stuck to the table.”

“What did you steal?” She transferred her attention when the door swung open. Britta raced in and dropped a stack of CDs on the desk. The dancer gave her a quick grin.

“Sorry, boss. These were left over from rehearsal, but we ranked them from best to worst.” She waved and blew right back out the door. A sylph, Britta’s breezy abilities were contained here, but not much.

“Ooh!” Minion jumped up to pounce on the CDs. “Who will be the new lead when Roseâtre and Anthony leave?” Their contract came to a close in thirteen days, the theatre would go dark for a week and they would rehearse a new show. The role of lead seemed to bring with it a lease on leaving since Pandora broke the mold.

“What did you steal?” Heidi repeated the question and held Minion by the scruff, lest she became totally distracted from the conversation. She eyed the imp and the little one’s ears twitched from side to side.

“It wasn’t anything big…” Minion squirmed.

Heidi held out her hand. “Give it.”

The imp pouted and pulled a shiny tiepin out. “He didn’t have much in the way of baubles, but this was pretty.”

Cast iron or dull brass, it was hardly shiny, but the sigil inscribed on it turned the blood in Heidi’s veins to ice. “Go to my rooms,” she murmured. “Go and stay there. Do not leave the theatre…”

“But, Heidi…” Minion wailed.

“You heard me. Or you can spend time in your kennel.” It was no idle threat, but Heidi hated the little black box almost as much as her minion.

“Fine.” Her imp disappeared in a poof of sulfuric smoke. The tiepin sat in Heidi’s palm like an ice cube, numbing her to everything else. Connor lied about Finn Mikelson. He’d lied about why he was there. Lied about him being a null.

Which meant he’d lied about why he needed Pepper.

Am I really surprised? No. But she couldn’t tamp down the pain scraping through her insides. Fisting her hand around the tiepin, she walked over to the crystal hanging between the books on the shelf. It glowed deep purple at her approach. “Stan?”

“I’m here.” The man’s voice echoed from deep within the multi-faceted gem.

“Where’s Pepper?”

“She’s at the slot machines with Mikelson. They’re playing a game…”

Heidi traced the sigil slowly.

“Is something wrong?” Stan asked when she was silent.

“No. Keep watch. I have to take care of something.” And someone. The show would start in an hour.

Connor was up to something. She needed to be ready.