A Plain-Dealing Villain (19 page)

Trevor Manderley stood beside Stanwyck, gabbing with someone else in line, not even trying to be comforting. No reason to: he’d already made his money, “sponsoring” the sucker. I didn’t pay Manderley any mind. As far as I was concerned, that score was settled, so long as he didn’t pull anything stupid today.

We eased forward in line a few feet at a time, eventually stepping though the open doorway of Parlor B. I wasn’t sure what the room was normally used for, but today Nadine held court behind a long folding table, a corkboard behind her lined with tacked-up sheets of paper. As a dark-haired woman at the head of the line handed over an envelope of cash, one of Nadine’s boy toys wrote out a name in big block letters and added it to the board where Nadine pointed.

H. WEST

A. XUN

E. TALBOT

V. FIERI

“Looks like they’re organizing the names by table placement,” Freddie said, standing right behind me and Caitlin in line. “Ooh, I hope I get seated with Amy. She’s so neurotic it’s impossible
not
to have a good time with her.”

Joining the tournament had been Amy’s idea. She pointed out, back at her shop, that even though she knew the grand prize had already been stolen, it would look strange if she didn’t play.

“It’s rational,” she’d observed. “Besides the coin, there’s a fifty-thousand-dollar payout for first place. Personal security plus a remote chance for a ten-to-one return on investment makes my buy-in a snap decision.”

I took her word for it.

Another one of the suited men hovered at Nadine’s shoulder, standing still as a guard at Buckingham Palace. He clutched the metal briefcase in his right hand with the handle cuffed to his wrist. With the witch-eye undisturbed, as far as Nadine and Royce knew, the coin was still safe and snug inside its case. I just hoped they didn’t try to take it out and show it off before the tournament started.

Eventually we made it to the front of the line. Nadine gave Caitlin a sneering smile.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. Hello, Caitlin. It’s been years.”

“Nadine,” Caitlin said. “Not nearly long enough.”

“Agreed.” Nadine looked me over, arched an eyebrow, and pointed at my neck. “And…
really?
”

Caitlin pointed at Nadine’s dress. “
Really?
”

Nadine touched one hand to the bodice of her gown. “I wear it better than you ever could,
commoner
.”

“I am Prince Sitri’s hound. Elite of my court. A bit more prestigious a rank than certain other people here could claim.”

Nadine curled her lip. “Please. You might have screwed and backstabbed your way into an unearned title, but you were born a commoner, and you’ll always be a commoner. You’ve got dirt under your claws.”

“Hey, Nadine?” I said.

She glanced my way.

“I normally have strong objections to hitting a woman,” I said, “but if you talk to my girlfriend like that again, I could see myself getting over it real fast.”

Nadine flashed a pearly smile. “Please. Do try. I’d love to watch Caitlin’s face while my little helpers here use you as a living punching bag. I’ll tell them not to mark you up
too
badly.”

“Who?” I nodded at her baby-faced helper with the Sharpie and the paper slips, sitting beside her and looking more anxious by the second. “These guys? A powder puff in an Armani suit is still a powder puff.”

Nadine reached over and stroked the man’s shoulder. His expression changed from fearful to placid in a heartbeat, his eyes vacant as a cow in an open pasture.

“Oh, this is just a batch of new aspirants. They haven’t even been blooded yet. I brought them in to help Royce with security. The one who catches you cheating gets a reward.”

“Yeah? What do the others get?”

Nadine’s expression went from a bright sunny day to black storm clouds instantly. She glared at me like I’d insulted her mother.

“They get
nothing
,” she snapped. The man let out a faint gasp as her hand clenched his shoulder, her fingernails digging into the fabric. He stared blankly ahead while his eyes watered, jaw quivering, obviously fighting to keep from crying out. Nadine let go of him and took a deep breath. Then she smiled again, all sweetness.

“The House of Dead Roses is for
winners
, Daniel. We take the best of the best and make them even better. A winner, a true, born winner, has no room in his life for second place.” She looked over at Caitlin. “That’s something commoners never understand.”

“Understand this,” Caitlin said, leaning over the table. “Our buy-in has already been paid. The Court of Jade Tears acknowledges Daniel Faust as its champion in this tournament. He, and I, will be given proper respect as visiting emissaries.”

“Oh, of course, we’ll be utterly respectful. As soon as he loses in the first round and we send you both back home humiliated and penniless, I’ll be certain to give you a polite wave goodbye.” Nadine looked to the seated man. “Put him on the board. And please, do note under his name that he’s Prince Sitri’s champion. I want
everyone
to get a good laugh.”

I rested my hands on the table and gave Nadine the cockiest smile I could manage.

“Out of curiosity, is Royce playing?”

“Of course he is,” she said. “He’s always Prince Malphas’s champion for these events.”

“Good. Then make sure you get a chair really close to our table. I’m gonna make you watch while I kick his ass.”

We walked away, leaving Freddie to strut up and take our space at the head of the line. She slapped an envelope down on the table and loudly announced, “Fredrika Vinter, House of Vinter, champion of good taste. If you don’t know what that is, I’ll buy you a dictionary.”

Caitlin and I stepped out into the hall. I couldn’t miss the stiffness in her walk, or the thousand-yard stare.

“Well, that should do it,” I said softly. “Now Royce pretty much
has
to focus all his attention on me. If he wasn’t going to before, I guarantee Nadine will goad him into it.”

“Fine,” Caitlin snapped.

“Apparently it isn’t.” I stopped walking. “Hey, what’s wrong? I mean, you’re
really
upset.”

She pursed her lips and waved me off. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something. C’mon, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Caitlin leaned against the wall. She shook her head, her eyes distant.

“Daniel, I…worked very, very hard to get where I am today. I’ve proven myself again, and again, and again. I’ve warred for my court and my prince, and I’ve honored them with my blood and my sweat. If there’s dirt under my nails, it’s because I had to claw my way up from
nothing
.”

“Hey, I know that. You’ve earned your job. From what I see, you
keep
earning it.”

“And when someone like that, who was handed everything from the moment she hatched, looks down on me because I’ve got the wrong blood in my veins…” She looked left and right, lowering her voice. “And
you
know that I’m Prince Sitri’s adopted daughter, a little fact that would shut Nadine’s mouth in a heartbeat, but I’m forbidden to
tell
anyone. ‘All in good time,’ he says. Another game of his, I assume.”

I stroked my fingers across her pale cheek.

“Well, I’ll tell you something.” I leaned close. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re already a princess.”

That got a smile. A small one, but it was a start. I took her hand.

“C’mon. Let’s show these snobs how we do things in Vegas.”

We had one more part of the plan to carry out before the tournament got underway, and not much time. Out in the club’s lounge, I hunted for three people in the crowd: Amy Xun, Bentley, and Stanwyck. Amy spotted me, stopped texting, and slipped her phone into her purse. Bentley loitered by the bar. As our eyes locked for an instant, he set down his glass of wine and gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

Then there was Stanwyck, Trevor still at his side and leading him across the lounge toward a couple of open chairs against the opposite wall. I squeezed Caitlin’s hand, let go, and prowled toward them.

“I told you,” Trevor was saying, “this is a very elite,
very
underground tournament.”

“Underground,” Stanwyck muttered. “Yeah, see, to me that means Outfit goombahs and not reporting your winnings to the IRS. It does not mean…whatever the hell is happening here. There was a guy back there with his teeth filed to points like a goddamn great white shark, Manderley.
Shark teeth
.”

“Hi there,” I said, stepping right into his path.

Stanwyck stopped in his tracks, off-balance, just in time for Amy to collide with him from the side. He then stumbled into Bentley, coming up on his right and pushing him into me. I caught him by the lapels of his jacket, steadying him, while Amy patted his back. Amy and Bentley hurled profuse apologies at him, buffeting Stanwyck from both sides as he yanked away from me in a sudden panic.

“It’s fine,” he said, holding up his hands. “It’s
fine
.”

Bentley and Amy disappeared into the crowd as quickly as they’d appeared. Stanwyck didn’t notice, too fixated on me standing in his path.

“You can’t hurt me here,” he said quickly, looking to Trevor. “That’s right, right? He can’t even touch me here.”

“That’s right,” Trevor said, studying his fingernails and sounding bored. “No fighting. Club rules.”

“Oh, I’m not going to hurt you, Stanwyck. No, I think the word
hurt
is way,
way
too mild for what I’m going to do to you.”

A shadow pooled at my feet, murky and darker than it had any right to be. Around us, tiny shadows the size of cockroaches scurried to join the growing puddle.
Easy
, I thought,
I get the message
.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Stanwyck said. “I just wanted the goddamn dagger. You saw what happened. Coop jumped me.”

“I saw you shoot him dead. I saw you blast Augie’s skull open. And twice now—
twice
now—I’ve seen you take a shot at
me
.”

“That was self-defense. You were sure as hell gonna kill me, so what was I supposed to do? Damn it, what do I have to do to get you off my back?”

“Bring Coop and Augie back to life,” I said. “Barring that? I suggest you enjoy your last few hours on Earth. No, he’s right, I can’t hurt you here. Here. But the second the tournament is over and those doors open, I’ll be waiting for you outside. And there’s only one way out of this building.”

I didn’t know if that was true, but he obviously believed me. “You—you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. There’s gotta be a hundred people here. There’ll be witnesses—”

“Take a good look around,” I told him. “These aren’t the kind of people who call the cops. And I don’t
care
what they see. Don’t you get it, Stanwyck? You don’t belong here. You’re an outsider. And you smell like an outsider smells, and you walk like an outsider walks, and not a single person in this entire club—including Trevor here—will shed one tear if I gun you down like a dog in the street.”

His eyes were wide as his face jerked toward Trevor.

“Is—is that true?”

“Which part?” Trevor said. “That nobody will call the police? Yeah, that’s pretty much right.”

“Then why did you
bring
me here, you son of a bitch?”

“Whoa, whoa,” Trevor said, taking a step back. “Because you needed a chance to win some fast money, and I came through. Hey, I didn’t
have
to sponsor your entry. A little gratitude wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” I said. “See you soon, Stanwyck. I’ll be waiting outside.”

I had no intention of following through on that threat—and besides, given the high-end sports cars sitting unguarded in the parking lot, I had a hunch Management’s protection extended a bit farther than the front door—but from the look on Stanwyck’s face he’d bought the lie hook, line, and sinker.

I turned and walked away. My shadow shed roach-sized blobs as I strode across the room, and they wriggled away to the darkest corners of the club.

When I got back to Caitlin, she was having a chat with Royce. They wore nearly identical expressions of strained politeness.

“—of course I’m not saying you had anything to do with the attempted theft,” Royce said, “but the human
is
your property, which makes you at least partially—”

“And I told you,” Caitlin replied, “that a formal apology will be sent.”

I shrugged and held up my open palms. “Aw, there I go, causing trouble again.”

“Oh good, you’re both here now,” Royce said. “I was just explaining to Caitlin that due to…recent events, we’ve been forced to bulk up security for the tournament, and we strongly recommend not testing us on that. Any attempt to disrupt today’s event will be considered an act of grave hostility.”

“Security?” I asked. “Like the Chippendales Nadine brought with her? I’m not kidding, Royce, I think those guys are off-duty strippers. I hope you’re not paying her a consultation fee.”

Royce arched one eyebrow. “Oh, no, I think we can do better than
that
.”

He snapped his fingers at one of Nadine’s men, who walked over leading a shaggy German shepherd on a long black leash. I caught a crackle of stray magic, and the faint glow behind the dog’s sharp eyes told me what we were dealing with. The shepherd had a hijacker.

I’d seen this kind of security before—Lauren Carmichael had guarded her corporate headquarters the same way. Forcing a spirit into a guard dog’s body gave you the best of both worlds: a canine’s power, speed, and keen senses mixed with the intellect and creativity of a lower demon or a captive soul. The “intellect” part was the challenge. Given the humiliation factor, it was hard to find a skilled entity who would willingly take the job.

“I just wanted to reintroduce you to an old friend,” Royce told us. “Say hello, Pinfeather.”

The dog pushed its ears back and growled.

“Well hello,” Caitlin said, eyeing the shepherd. “The last time I saw you, you were wearing your heart on your sleeve. Because I ripped it out and put it there.”

Royce bent down and rubbed behind the dog’s ears. “Pinfeather is being given the rare opportunity to make amends for his failures. And if he’s a very good boy, in a hundred years or so we
might
give him a human body again.”

He nodded to the dog’s handler. Pinfeather turned and padded away at a tug of the leash, still growling.

“Now that’s arrogant,” Caitlin said. “You lecture me about my court’s behavior, then bring
him
over here?”

“Anything Pinfeather told you about his mission—before you killed him, let me point out, and you did
not
have to do that—was purely a desperate fantasy. He was a rogue agent, acting without my prince’s sanction. Also, we wrote a letter of apology. Don’t know what else you want from us.”

“That’s funny,” I said. “I didn’t get one. Did you send it to my old apartment? That must be why. See, it
burned down
while I was protecting that asshole from the Redemption Choir.”

“I’ll see that you get a copy,” Royce said. “Just understand that we’re watching all of our contestants for any signs of cheating or underhanded behavior. I want a nice, clean tournament.”

“Does that go both ways?” I asked.

“Well, of course it does. I pride myself on working at the highest possible level of integrity. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s almost time to get underway.”

I waited until he walked away before I looked at Caitlin. “That means he’s gonna cheat his ass off, doesn’t it?”

“That’s roughly the highest possible level of integrity for him, yes.”

I offered her my arm. “Shall we?”

*     *     *

The pedestal at the heart of the gaming parlor had been replaced by something new: a human-sized figure standing under a tattered black shroud.

He stood perfectly still in the center of the room, surrounded by a ring of brass-rimmed green felt tables. At first I thought it might be a veiled statue, until I saw the shroud rise and fall with his slow, ragged breath. As Caitlin and I filtered in with the rest of the crowd, the figure turned. Eyes stared out from two uneven slits in the fabric. Wide, mad, and bloodshot eyes, one hazel and one blue.

“Cait,” I murmured, “what the hell is that?”

“A conduit. They must have brought it here so Prince Malphas can watch the tournament through its eyes.”

Caitlin’s people had a conduit too, back in Vegas, living in filth and darkness in the sub-sub-basement of a nightclub. Conduits existed in two realms at once, a living bridge between Earth and hell.

I’d been told they were human, once. I didn’t know how they were created, and I didn’t want to.

“It’s staring at us,” I said. The figure turned to follow our movements as we circled the room.

“Well, Malphas knows who we are.”

I paused. “So he’s watching us, right this second?”

“Most likely.” Caitlin folded her arms. “And you will remember that we are diplomatic guests here and not commit whatever petty mischief you were just thinking of.”

“How do you know I was—”

“You get a certain look.”

“Fine, fine.” I sighed. “You never let me have any fun.”

Caitlin gave me a mock glare. “He said to the woman who just put up five thousand dollars so he could play a card game.”

“Ouch. Touché.”

She squeezed my shoulder and smiled. “Fight well. I’ll be watching.”

I didn’t have to wait long for the shenanigans to start. I’d just found my table and gotten comfortable when Nadine swooped in.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, “but we have a last-minute table change. Come with me, please?”

“I thought the table assignments were random?”

“They are.” Her smile lit up the room. “We’ve just made it
more
random. We’re all about fairness here.”

As soon as she walked me to my new table, I figured out the scam. Royce waited for me, already seated and with a glass of mineral water in his hand, eager for a showdown. I knew he couldn’t risk one of us getting knocked out of the tournament before we had a chance to play against each other.
He
wanted to be the one to send me home.

When I saw who was with him, though, I knew the fix was in.

“Calypso,” I said, “funny meeting you here.”

The lean, dark man in the cream-colored suit chuckled as he lit a thin cigarette. I’d last encountered the bargaining demon in Reno, where we’d done a little gambling ourselves. We’d both walked away a winner and a loser that night.

“Daniel Faust,” he said, his voice a honeyed rumble. “You know me. I go where the fun is. And I’ve been known to do a
tiny
bit of card-playing in my day.”

Nadine pulled out a chair for me. I sat down, surveying the competition, and gave Royce a tight, humorless smile.

“Let me guess,” I said, “the ‘totally random’ seating method just happened to put the best players in the tournament at this table.”

Royce sipped his water. “Are you familiar with the word
apothecia
? It’s the state of finding significance in random, meaningless data. It’s a very common flaw in the human brain.”

The meaning was loud and clear: he’d stacked the decks to make absolutely certain I went down hard, pitting me against the best of the best. If he couldn’t beat me, he’d at least guarantee that Prince Sitri’s champion went home in defeat.

The tables at the Bast Club were smaller than what I was used to in the casinos back home. Thirty-six players spread across six tables, all aiming for one grand prize. I didn’t recognize the other three contenders at my table, but the closest, a spectacled man with thinning blond hair and a bulky turtleneck sweater, reached over and offered me his hand. He had a shaky grip, and his skin had a waxy, cheesecloth feel that reminded me of Halima.

“I’m Herbert,” he said. “You’re not a local, are you?”

“Daniel, and no, I’m from out of town.”

He smiled. I thought his cheeks were unusually ruddy until I realized they didn’t have any natural color—he was wearing a light shade of blush.

“I knew it. I know all the locals. I’m a doctor. Well, a mortician these days, but I
am
medically trained. If you ever need a little off-the-books patching up while you’re in town, come see me.”

“Oh, he’ll need it,” said the player on Herbert’s left, a lanky kid with moon-crater acne. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-two, dressed in ripped jeans and a concert T-shirt for a band I’d never heard of. “You are
all
getting your asses kicked.”

“You know,” I said, settling back in my chair, “most of the people who threaten me are old enough to shave. You might wanna wait a few years.”

“No threat, just math. Name’s Orville. Josh Orville. You might have heard of me.”

He said it like there wasn’t a speck of doubt in his mind. I took a little pleasure in deflating him. “Nope. Should I have?”

“
Hello?
” He looked like I’d kicked him in the teeth. He wagged his wrist at me, showing off a white-gold bracelet studded with a glittering constellation of diamonds. “
Josh Orville?
MIT prodigy? Sole inventor of the Orville Matrix Gambling Strategy? Youngest player to ever win the World Series of Poker? Yeah. You’ve heard of me.”

“I don’t get out much,” I told him.

“So sorry,” Calypso said, waving his cigarette in a slow circle. “I should have asked before I lit up. Does anyone mind if I smoke?”

“Duh,
yes
,” Josh snapped at him. “It’s a filthy habit. And it’s making my eyes water. I have very sensitive—”

“But I don’t like you,” Calypso said. “Does anyone
else
mind, or are we all copacetic?”

The last player, sitting back with mirrored glasses and a broad-brimmed hat slung low over his face, held up a cigar wrapped in yellowed parchment. “I don’t mind if you don’t,” he said in a thick Oklahoma drawl. “So we gonna play some cards or what?”

Royce rose to his feet, taking another sip of water before setting his glass down.

“Absolutely,” he said, “just let me make a few opening remarks. I think the room’s ready.”

Nadine strolled over and ran her fingertips along Josh’s shoulder. She leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Oh, hey,” I said. “Kid. Seriously, you’re playing with fire there. Whatever she’s telling you, it’s nothing you want to hear.”

The kid was obnoxious, but that didn’t mean I wanted him dead—or worse. I wasn’t prepared for the smirk on his face when he looked over at me, mirroring Nadine’s expression.

“What, are you stupid? Mistress Nadine
brought
me here.”

“We’re quite proud of Joshua’s exploits,” Nadine said. “He plays an almost perfect game of poker. Almost perfect. And he hungers for greater things. He’s ideal Roses material.”

Josh rapped his knuckles on the table. “I win this tournament? I’m in. They’re gonna make me the best in the
world
. The best poker player in
history
.”

I started to say something but fell silent when I caught the look on Calypso’s face. Wistful amusement gleamed in his eyes as he took a drag on his cigarette, shaking his head at me.

“Sometimes,” he rumbled, “people have to be dragged kicking and screaming to the edge of perdition. And sometimes…they jump right in. Like they wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With the tables full—and Prince Malphas’s shrouded conduit watching the room in slow shuffling circles, as if it were standing on a turntable—spectators packed the parlor and lined the walls. I looked back to see Caitlin, about ten feet behind me. She winked and blew me an air-kiss. I snatched it out of the air and pressed it to my heart.

Then I took a longer look around, spotting Margaux, Bentley, and Corman in the crowd. Everybody was exactly where they needed to be.