"No kidding," I said, thinking it sounded like an informal vampire support group. Maybe Ivy should go. Nah. She'd ruin it for everyone else.
"You wouldn't have been so receptive if you hadn't needed it so much," he said, parking at the outskirts.
"Oh, so it is my fault," I said dryly.
"Don't," he said, his words harsh as he yanked the parking brake up. "I let you yell at me once already tonight. Don't try to flip this back on me. The more you need it, the harder it hits you is all. That's why no one thought anything less of youand maybe they think a little more."
Taken aback, I made an apologetic face. "Sorry." I kinda liked that he was too smart to be manipulated by wicked female logic. It made things more interesting. Slowly he relaxed, turning off the heater and the softly playing disc.
"You were hurting inside," he said as he took the singing monk CD out and put it in its case. "From Nick. I've watched you hurt since you drew on that line through him and he got scared. And they got a kick out of seeing you unwind." He smiled with a distant look. "It made them feel good that the big bad witch who beat up Piscary trusted them. Trust is a feeling we don't get very often, Rachel. Living vampires lust after it almost as much as blood. That's why Ivy is ready to kill anyone who threatens your friendship with her."
I said nothing, staring as it started to make sense.
"You didn't know that, did you?" he added, and I shook my head, uncomfortable with digging into the whys of my relationship with Ivy. The car was getting cold, and I shivered.
"And showing your vulnerability probably upped your reputation, too," he said. "That you didn't feel threatened by them and let it happen."
I looked at the boat sitting before us, decorated with blinking holiday lights. "I didn't have a choice."
He reached out and adjusted the collar of his coat about my shoulders. "Yes, you did."
Kisten's hand fell from me, and I gave him a weak smile. I wasn't convinced, but at least I didn't feel like so much of a fool. My mind went over the events, the slow slide from a relaxed state into sleep, and the attitudes of those around me. There hadn't been any laugher at my expense. I had felt comforted, cared for. Understood. And there hadn't been a flicker of blood lust coming from any of them. I hadn't known vampires could be like that.
"Line dancing, Kisten?" I said, feeling my lips quirk into a wry smile.
A nervous laugh came from him and he bowed his head. "Hey, ah, could you not tell anyone about that?" he asked, the rims of his ears reddening. "What happens at Piscary's stays at Piscary's. It's an unwritten rule."
Being stupid, I reached out and ran a finger over the arch of his blood-reddened ear. He beamed, shifting to take my hand and brush his lips against my fingers. "Unless you want to get yourself banned from there as well," he said.
A shiver went through me at his breath on my fingers, and I pulled my hand away. His speculative look went right to my core, pulling my stomach into knots of anticipation. "You looked good out there," I said, not caring if it was a mistake. "Do you have a karaoke night?"
"Mmmm," he murmured, shifting in his seat to fall into his bad-boy slump against the door. "Karaoke. There's an idea. Tuesdays are slow. We never get enough people to get a good buzz going. That might be just the thing."
I turned my attention to the boat to hide my smile. The image of Ivy on stage singing "Round Midnight" flitted through me and was gone. Kisten's attention followed mine to the boat. It was one of those remade riverboats, two stories tall and almost entirely enclosed. "I'll take you home if you want," he said.
Shaking my head, I tightened the tie on his coat, and the scent of leather puffed up. "No, I want to see how you pay for a dinner cruise on an iced-over river with only sixty dollars."
"This isn't dinner. This is the entertainment." He went to toss his hair artfully aside, then stopped mid-movement.
The lights in my head started to go on. "It's a gambling boat," I said. "That's not fair. Piscary owns all the gambling boats. You won't have to pay for a thing."
"It's not Piscary's boat." Kisten got out of the car and came around to my side. Looking good in his wool coat, he opened my door and waited for me to get out.
"Oh," I said, more lights turning on. "We're here checking out the competition?"
"Something like that." He bent to look at me. "Coming? Or are we going to leave?"
If he wasn't going to get his chips for free, it would be legal under our arrangement. And I'd never gambled before. It might be fun. Accepting his hand, I let him help me out of the car.
His pace was rapid as we hustled to the railed gangplank. A man in a parka and gloves waited at the foot of the ramp, and as Kisten talked with him, I glanced at the boat's water-line. Rows of bubbles kept the riverboat from becoming iced in. It was probably more expensive than taking the boat out for the winter, but city regulations stipulated you could only gamble on the river. And even though the boat was tied to the dock, it was on the water.
After speaking into a radio, the big man let us pass. Kisten put a hand on the small of my back and pushed me forward. "Thanks for letting me borrow your coat," I said as my boots clattered up and we found ourselves on the covered walk-way. Tonight's snow made a white icing, and I brushed it off the railing to make slushy clumps in the open water.
"My pleasure," he said, pointing to a half wood, half glass door. There was an etched intertwined pair of capital S's on it, and I shuddered when a shimmer of ley line force passed through me when Kisten opened the door and we crossed the threshold. It was probably the casino's antitampering charm, and it gave me the willies, like I was breathing air coated in oil.
Another big man in a tuxa witch, by the familiar scent of redwoodwas there to greet us, and he took both Kisten's and my coat. Kisten signed the guest book, putting me down as "guest." Peeved, I wrote my name below his with big loopy flourishes, taking up three entire lines. The pen made my fingers tingle, and I looked at the metal barrel before I set it down. All my warning flags went up, and while Kisten bought a single chip with most of our date allowance, I made a precise line through both my and Kisten's name to prevent our signatures from possibly being used as a focusing object for a ley line charm.
"And you did that because" Kisten questioned as he took my arm.
"Trust me." I smiled at the stone-faced witch in a tux handling the guest book. There were subtler ways to prevent such thefts of focusing objects, but I didn't know them. And that I had just insulted the host didn't bother me at all. Like I would ever be back there again?
Kisten had my arm so I was free to nod, as if I was important to anyone who looked up from his or her gaming. I was glad Kisten had dressed me; I'd have looked like a whore here in what I had picked out. The oak and teak paneling was comforting, and the rich green carpet felt scrumptious on my feet, clear through my boots. The few windows were draped with deep burgundy and black fabric, pulled aside to show the lights of Cincinnati. It was warm with the scent of people and excitement. The clatter of chips and bursts of sound quickened my pulse.
The low ceiling could have been claustrophobic, but it wasn't. There were two tables of blackjack, a craps table, a wheel, and an entire bank of one-armed bandits. In the corner was a small bar. Most of the staff was of the witch or warlock persuasion, if my gut instinct was right. I wondered where the poker table was. Upstairs, perhaps? I didn't know how to play anything else. Well, I could play blackjack, but that was for sissies.
"How about some blackjack?" Kisten said as he subtly guided me that way.
"Sure," I said, smiling.
"Do you want a drink?"
I glanced at the surrounding people. Mixed drinks were the rule, except for the one guy with a beer. He was drinking it out of the bottle, and it ruined his entire look, tux aside. "Dead Man's Float?" I asked as Kisten helped me up onto a stool. "Double shot of ice cream?"
The hovering waitress nodded, and after getting Kisten's order, the older witch left. "Kisten?" My gaze rose, drawn by an enormous disk of gray metal hanging from the ceiling. Ribbons of a shiny metal radiated from it like a sunburst, running to the edges of the ceiling. It could have been a decoration, but I'd be willing to bet the metal continued behind the wood paneling and even under the floor. "Kisten, what is that?" I whispered as I nudged him.
His gaze flicked to the disk. "Probably their security system." His eyes met mine and he smiled. "Freckles," he said. "Even without your spells, you're the most beautiful woman here."
I blushed at his complimentsure now that the enormous disk was more than art decobut when he turned back to the dealer, I frantically looked at the mirror wall by the stairway. My shoulders slumped as I saw me in my sophisticated outfit with freckles and my hair starting to frizz. The entire boat was a no-spell zoneat least for us earth witches using amuletsand I suspected that big purple disk had something in there to hinder ley line witches, too.
Just having the boat on the water was some protection against ley line tampering since you couldn't tap a line over the water unless you went the roundabout way through a familiar. In all likelihood, the boat's security system dampened already invoked ley line spells and would detect anyone tapping a line through a familiar to invoke a new one. I had once had a smaller version on my long-gone I.S. issue cuffs.
While Kisten made nice with the dealer over his paltry fifty-dollar chip, I sat back and studied the people. There were about thirty, all well-dressed and most older than Kisten and I. A frown crossed me as I realized Kisten was the only vamp here: witches, Weres, and a few red-eyed humans up past their bedtime, but no vampires.
That struck me as wrong, so while Kisten doubled his money with a few hands, I unfocused my attention, wanting to see the room with my second sight. I didn't like using my second sight, especially at night when I could see an overlay of the ever-after, but I'd rather suffer a bad case of the heebie-jeebies than not know what was happening. I spared a thought wondering if Algaliarept would know what I was doing, than decided there was no way he could unless I tapped a line. Which I wouldn't.
Settling myself, I closed my eyes so my little used second sight wouldn't have to compete with my more mundane vision, and with a mental shove, I opened my mind's eye. Immediately the wisps of my hair that had worked themselves free moved in the wind that always blew in the ever-after. The memory of the ship dissolved to nothing, and the broken landscape of the demon city took its place.
A soft sound of disgust slipped from me, and I reminded myself just why I never did this so close to the center of Cincinnati; the demon city was broken and ugly. The waning crescent moon was probably up now, and there was a definite red glow to the bottoms of the clouds, seeming to light the stark cascade of broken buildings and vegetation-stained rubble with a haze that covered everything and made me feel slimy somehow. It was said the demons lived belowground, and seeing what they had done to their citybuilt on the same ley lines as CincinnatiI didn't wonder why. I'd seen the ever-after once during the day. It wasn't much better.
I wasn't in the ever-after, just viewing it, but I still felt uncomfortable, especially when I realized the reason everything looked clearer than usual was because I was coated in Algaliarept's black aura. Reminded of my slipped bargain, I opened my eyes, praying that Algaliarept wouldn't find a way to use me through the lines as he had threatened.
The gambling boat was just the way I left it, the noises that had been keeping me mentally connected to reality taking on meaning again. I was using both my visions, and before my second sight could become overwhelmed and lost, I hurriedly looked around.
My gaze was immediately drawn to the metal disk in the ceiling, and my mouth twisted in distaste. It pulsated with a thick purple smear, coating everything. I would have bet that this was what I had felt when I crossed the threshold.
It was everyone's aura that interested me most, though. I couldn't see mine, even when I looked in the mirror. Nick had once told me it was yellow and goldnot that anyone could see it under Al's now. Kisten's was a healthy, warm, orangy red shot through with slices of yellow concentrating about his head, and a smile quirked my lips. He used his head to make decisions, not his heart; I wasn't surprised. There was no black in it, though almost everyone else's in the room was streaked with darkness, I realized as I scanned the floor.
I stifled a twitch when I found a young man in the corner watching me. He was in a tux, but it had a comfortable look on him, not the stiff, uptight demeanor of the doorman or the professional dullness of the dealers. And the full glass by his hand said patron, not wait staff. His aura was so dark, it was hard to tell if it was a deep blue or deep green. A hint of demon black ran through it, and I felt a wash of embarrassment that if he was looking at me with his second sightwhich I was sure he washe could see me coated in Algaliarept's black slime.
Leaning back with his chin on his inward-curled fingertips, he fixed his gaze on mine from across the room, evaluating. He was deeply tanneda neat trick in midwinterand combined with the faint highlights in his straight black hair, I guessed he was from out of state and somewhere warm. Of average build and average looks, he didn't strike me as particularly attractive, but his confident assurance warranted a second look. He appeared wealthy, too, but who didn't in a tux?
My eyes slid from him to the guy swilling beer, and I decided tux-trash could be done after all. And with that thought making me smile, I turned back to surfer boy.
He was still watching me, and upon seeing my smile, he matched it, tilting his head in speculation and inviting conversation. I took a breath to shake my head, then stopped. Why in hell not? I was fooling myself that Nick was coming back. And my date with Kisten was a one-night-only offer.
Wondering if his trace of black was from a demon mark, I narrowed my concentration to try to see past his unusually dark aura. As I did, the purple glow coming from the ceiling disk brightened to take on the first tinges of yellow.
The man started, his attention jerking to the ceiling. Shock marred his clean-shaven face. An abrupt call went through the room from about three different places, and at my forgotten elbow, Kisten swore as the dealer said this hand had been tampered with and that all play was suspended until he could break a new deck.
I lost my second sight completely then, as the witch manning the guest book pointed me out to a second man, clearly security by his serious lack of any emotional expression.
"Oh crap," I swore, turning my back on the room and picking up my Dead Man's Float.
"What?" Kisten said irately while he stacked his winnings according to color.
I winced, meeting his eyes over the rim of my glass. "I think I made a boo-boo."
Thirteen
"What did you do, Rachel?" Kisten said flatly, stiffening as he looked over my shoulder.
"Nothing!" I exclaimed. The dealer gave me a tired look and broke the seal on a fresh deck of cards, and I didn't turn when I felt a presence loom heavy behind me.
"Is there a problem?" Kisten said. His attention was fixed a good three feet above my head. Slowly I turned, finding a really, really big man in a really, really big tux.
"It's the lady I need to talk with," his voice rumbled.
"I didn't do anything," I said quickly. "I was just looking over, um, the security. . . ." I finished weakly. "Just as a professional interest. Here. Here's one of my cards. I'm in security myself." I fumbled in my clasp purse for one, handing it to him. "Really, I wasn't going to tamper with anything. I didn't tap a line. Honest."
Honest? How lame was that? My black business card looked small in his thick hands, and he glanced at it once, quickly reading it. He made eye contact with a woman at the foot of the stairs. She shrugged, mouthing, "She didn't tap a line," and he turned to me. "Thank you, Ms. Morgan," the man said, and my shoulders eased. "Please don't assert your aura over the house spells." He didn't smile at all. "Any more interference and we will ask you to leave."
"Sure, no problem," I said, starting to breathe again.
He walked away, and play resumed around us. Kisten's eyes were full of annoyance. "Can't I take you anywhere?" he said dryly, putting his chips into a little bucket and handing them to me. "Here. I have to use the little boys' room."
I stared blankly as he gave me a warning look before he ambled off, leaving me alone in a casino with a bucket of chips and no idea what to do with them. I turned to the blackjack dealer, and he arched his eyebrows. "Guess I'll play something else," I said as I slipped from the stool, and he nodded.
Clutch purse tucked under my arm, I glanced over the room with my chips in one hand and my drink in the other. Surfer boy was gone, and I stifled a sigh of disappointment. Head down, I looked at the chips, seeing they were engraved with the same intertwined S's. Not even knowing the monetary value of what I had, I drifted to the excitement of the craps table.
I smiled at two men who slid apart to make a spot for me, setting my drink and chips on the lower rim of the table while I tried to figure out why some people were happy at the five that was rolled and some were upset. One of the witches who'd made room for me was standing too close, and I wondered when he would inflict his pickup line on me. Sure enough, after the next roll he gave me a sloppy grin and said, "Here I am. What are your last two wishes?"
My hand trembled and I forced it to remain unmoving. "Please," I said. "Just stop."
"Oh, nice manners, babe," he said loudly, trying to embarrass me, but I could embarrass myself a hell of a lot easier than he could.
The chatter of the game seemed to vanish as I focused on him. I was ready to let him have it, my self-respect wounded to the quick, when surfer boy appeared. "Sir," he said calmly, "that was the worst line I've ever heard, not only insulting but showing a severe lack of forethought. You're obviously bothering the young woman. You should leave before she does permanent damage to you."
It was protective, yet implied I could take care of myself, not an easy thing to accomplish in one paragraph, much less one sentence. I was impressed.
One-line-wonder took a breath, paused, and with his eyes rising over my shoulder, he changed his mind. Muttering, he took his drink and his buddy on the other side of me and left.
My shoulders eased and I found myself sighing as I turned to surfer boy. "Thank you," I said, taking a closer look at him. His eyes were brown and his lips were thin, and when he smiled, the expression encompassed both of them, full and honest. There was some Asian heritage in his not-too-distant past, giving him straight black hair and a small nose and mouth.
He ducked his head, seemingly embarrassed. "No thanks needed. I had to do something to redeem all men for that line." His strong-jawed face took on a false sincerity. "What're your other two wishes?" he asked, chuckling.
I laughed, ending it by looking at the craps table as I thought of my big teeth.
"My name is Lee," he said, stepping into the silence before it became awkward.
"Rachel," I said, relieved when he extended his hand. He smelled like sand and redwood, and he slipped his thin fingers into my grip to meet my pressure with an equal force. Our hands yanked apart and my eyes jerked to his when a slip of ley line energy equalized between us.
"Sorry," he said as he tucked his hand behind his back. "One of us must be low."
"It's probably me," I said, refusing to wipe my hand. "I don't keep line energy in my familiar."
Lee's eyebrows rose. "Really? I couldn't help but notice you looking at the security."
Now I was really embarrassed, and I took a sip of my drink and turned to lean with my elbows on the upper railing about the table. "That was an accident," I said as the amber dice rolled past. "I didn't mean to trip the alarms. I was just trying to get a closer look atumyou," I finished, certainly as red at my hair. Oh God, I was screwing this up royally.
But Lee seemed amused, his teeth white in his suntanned face. "Me too."
His accent was nice. West Coast, perhaps? I couldn't help but like his easy demeanor, but when he took a sip of his white wine, my gaze fixed to his wrist peeping from behind his cuff and my heart seemed to stop. It was scarred. It was scarred exactly like mine. "You have a demon sca" His eyes jerked to mine, and my words cut off. "Sorry."
Lee's attention flicked to the nearby patrons. None seemed to have heard. "It's okay," he said softly, his brown eyes pinched. "I got it by accident."
I put my back against the railing, understanding now why my demon-tainted aura hadn't scared him off. "Don't we all?" I said, surprised when he shook his head. My thoughts went to Nick, and I bit my lower lip.
"How did you get yours?" he asked, and it was my turn to be nervous.
"I was dying. He saved me. I owe him for safe passage through the lines." I didn't think it necessary to tell Lee that I was the demon's familiar. "How about you?"
"Curiosity." Eyes squinting, he frowned at a past memory.
Curious myself, I gave him another once-over. I wouldn't say Al's real name and break the contract we had come to when I had bought a summoning name from him, but I wanted to know if it was the same demon. "Hey, uh, does yours wear crushed green velvet?" I asked.
Lee jerked. His brown eyes went wide under his sharply cut bangs, and then a smile born of shared trouble came over him. "Yes. He talks in a British accent"
"And has a thing for frosting and french fries?" I interrupted.
Lee ducked his head and chuckled. "Yes, when he isn't morphing into my father."
"How about that?" I said, feeling an odd kinship. "It's the same one."
Tugging his sleeve down to cover the mark, Lee rested his side against the craps table. "You seem to have a knack for ley lines," he said. "Are you taking instruction from him?"
"No," I said forcefully. "I'm an earth witch." I twiddled my finger with my ring amulet and touched the cord of the one around my neck that was supposed to defrizz my hair.
His attention went from the scar on my wrist to the ceiling. "But you" he drawled.
I shook my head and sipped my drink, my back to the game. "I told you it was an accident. I'm not a ley line witch. I took a class is all. Well, half of one. The instructor died before the class was finished."
He blinked in disbelief. "Dr. Anders?" he blurted. "You had a class with Dr. Anders?"
"You knew her?" I pulled myself straighter.
"I've heard of her." He leaned close. "She was the best ley line witch east of the Mississippi. I came out here to take classes from her. She was supposed to be the best."
"She was," I said, depressed. She was going to help get Nick unbound as my familiar. Now, not only was the spell book gone, but she was dead and all her knowledge with her. I jerked upright as I realized I had been wool gathering. "So, you're a student?" I asked.
Lee rested his elbows on the rail, watching the dice skitter and roll behind me. "Road scholar," he said shortly. "I got my degree years ago from Berkeley."
"Oh, I'd love to see the coast some time," I said, playing with my necklace and wondering how much of this conversation had turned into exaggeration. "Doesn't the salt make everything difficult?"
He shrugged. "Not so much for ley line witches. I feel bad for earth witches, locked into a path that has no power."
My mouth dropped open. No power? Hardly. Earth magic's strength stemmed from ley lines as much as ley line witches' spells. That it was filtered through plants made it more forgiving, and perhaps slower, but no less powerful. There wasn't a ley line charm written that could physically change a person's form. Now that was power. Chalking it up to ignorance, I let it slide lest I drive him away before I got a chance to know just how big of a jerk he was, first.
"Look at me," he said, clearly recognizing that he had stuck his foot so far down his throat that his toes might wiggle out of his ass. "Here I am bothering you, when you probably want to play some before your boyfriend gets back."
"He's not my boyfriend," I said, not as excited as I could be for the subtle inquiry as to my attached status. "I told him he couldn't take me out on a decent date for sixty dollars, and he accepted the challenge."
Lee ran his eyes over the casino. "How's it going?"
I sipped my drink, wishing the ice cream hadn't melted. Behind me there was a loud cheer as something good happened. "Well, so far I've gotten sugared and passed out in a vamp dance club, insulted my roommate, and tripped the security system of a casino boat." I lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "Not bad, I guess."
"It's early yet." Lee's gaze followed the rolling dice behind me. "Can I buy you a drink? I've heard the house wine is good. Merlot, I think it is."
I wondered where this was going. "No thanks. Red winedoesn't sit well with me."
He chuckled. "I'm not particularly fond of it either. It gives me migraines."
"Me too," I exclaimed softly, truly surprised.
Lee tossed his bangs from his eyes. "Now, if I had said that, you would have accused me of dropping you a line." I smiled, feeling shy all of a sudden, and he turned to the cheering at the table. "You don't gamble, do you?" he said.
I glanced behind me and then back to him. "It shows, huh?"
He put a hand on my shoulder and turned me around. "They've rolled three fours in a row, and you haven't noticed," he said softly, almost in my ear.
I did nothing to either discourage or encourage him, the sudden pounding of my heart not telling me what to do. "Oh, is that unusual?" I said, trying to keep my voice light.
"Here," he said, motioning to the craps man. "New roller," he called loudly.
"Oh, wait," I protested. "I don't even know how to bet."
Not to be deterred, Lee took my little chip bucket and guided me to the head of the table. "You roll, I'll bet for you." He hesitated, brown eyes innocent. "Is thatokay?"
"Sure," I said, grinning. What did I care? Kisten had given me the chips. That he wasn't there to spend them with me wasn't my problem. Teaching me how to throw craps was what he was supposed to be doing, not some guy in a tux. Where was he, anyway?
I glanced over the assembled faces around the table as I took the dice. They felt slipperylike bone in my handand I shook them.
"Wait" Lee reached out and took my hand in his. "You have to kiss them first. But only once," he said, his voice serious though his eyes glinted. "If they think they'll get loved all the time, they won't put out."
"Right," I said, his hands falling when I pulled the dice to my lips but refused to touch them. I mean, really. Yuck. People shuffled their chips around, and heart faster than the game warranted, I threw the dice. I eyed Lee, not the dice, as they skittered and danced.
Lee watched in rapt attention, and I thought that though he wasn't pretty like Kisten, he was far more likely to be on a magazine cover than Nick. Just an average guy, and a witch with a degree. My mother would love me to bring this one home. Something had to be wrong with him. Besides his demon mark? I thought dryly. God, save me from myself.
The watching people had various reactions to the eight I rolled. "Not good?" I asked Lee.
His shoulders rose and fell as he took the dice the craps man pushed to him. "It's okay," he said. "But you have to roll an eight again before a seven comes up to win."
"Oh," I said, pretending I understood. Mystified, I threw the dice. This time they came up nine. "Keep going?" I said, and he nodded.
"I'll place some one-roll bets for you," he said, then paused. "If that's okay?"
Everyone was waiting, so I said, "Sure, that will be great."
Lee nodded. His brow furrowed for a moment, then he set a pile of red chips on a square. Someone snickered, leaning to whisper "Innocent slaughter" in their neighbor's ear.
The dice were warm in my hand, and I sent them rolling. They bounced off the wall, coming to halt. It was an eleven, and everyone at the table groaned. Lee, though, was smiling. "You won," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "See?" He pointed. "Odds are fifteen-to-one of rolling an eleven. I figured you'd be a zebra."
My eyes widened as the predominate color of my pile of chips went from red to blue as the craps man piled a stack on them. "Beg pardon?"