Chapter Fifty-three
I leaned a shoulder against a smooth wall and exhaled a billowing plume of gray smoke. I was standing just inside a narrow hallway that led to the casino's bathrooms and public phones. From here, I had a good view of the double doors of the exclusive parlor.
I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs to the maximum. Smoking did nothing for me. No smoker's high. Nothing. No nicotine addiction. Nothing. For me, smoking was a purely voluntary act. It was one of the few things that I could do without a violent reaction. So I did it because I could.
The good thing about casinos is that you can smoke in them. The good thing about being a vampire is that you don't get lung cancer.
At least, that's what they tell me. And by they, I mean Fang. The man was my sole source for all things vampiric.
I found myself grinning thinking about the Toothless Wonder. Toothless because his canines had been removed. His dogteeth, as they are sometimes called.
His vampire teeth.
Interesting thing about that, since my own teeth had never once changed size or shape in the six years since I'd been unwillingly recruited into the creature of the night club. Admittedly, it made sense that longer canine teeth would aid a vampire. Of course, so would a hypodermic needle. Longer teeth aided creatures who hunted with their mouth, those who didn't have the benefit of hands or weapons. Longer teeth latched onto prey, held it down. Longer teeth aided in tearing into the flesh.
I couldn't eat flesh. I needed only a steady flow of blood to be sustained. I didn't need to kill other creatures, either.
A voluntary source would be adequate.
A donor.
These thoughts were new to me. They were revolutionary. They made me look at myself differently.
I didn't have to kill.
I only had to drink.
Of course, I received my supply of blood from a local butchery, so I didn't kill. But the blood was also disgusting and mixed with hundreds of other creatures, some of which might very well be diseased or sick.
All mixed in a big bloody soup for yours truly to enjoy night after night.
But it didn't have to be that way, did it? All I needed was a steady source.
I thought of Fang. I also thought of his request.
Make me a vampire.
I inhaled again, squinting through the smoke even though it didn't really hurt my eyes. The room beyond the double doors was still quiet. A few people passed in and out, but not Carl Luck or Captain Jack.
Jesus, had Fang proposed to me tonight? I mean, he had taken my hand and said he wanted to be with me for all eternity.
A proposal if I'd ever heard one.
Wow.
I dashed out my cigarette in a glass ash tray around the corner, then went back to my post just inside the hallway. I would think about Fang's proposal later. At the moment, Fang's proposal was way down on my list.
High on my list was the grim realization that I was certain - dead certain - that I was going to kill two men tonight.
Thirty minutes later, a group of wealthy men emerged from the parlor room. Only one looked particularly cheerful, a tall man wearing a keffiyeh. Captain Jack, who followed behind, looked like he was in a sour mood.
Carl Luck slapped him on his back reassuringly, and the two men headed off toward a bank of elevators.
Vaders.
Chapter Fifty-four
Fifteen minutes later, I took the elevator up to the upper suites.
The luxury suites. The high rollers suites. Suites where the big boys stayed with their big bucks. Suites that were spacious enough that you probably couldn't hear someone scream. Especially a little girl.
I set my jaw as the elevator doors opened. My purse was still over my shoulder. Cool air met me in the spacious hallway. I could turn right or left. I automatically turned right, feeling my way.
The hallway was lined with polished tables and flowers. I doubted the other floors had polished tables and flowers. The doors here were recessed deep in the walls and inlaid with brass relief designs. The designs were, you guessed it, eagle feathers. The doors, I saw, were also designed for security. Although the reliefs were in brass, the doors themselves were made of steel.
I continued down the hall, guided entirely by my sixth sense. As I made a right turn, a small buzzing began just inside my eardrum. And the further I walked down the hallway, the louder the buzzing became.
I found myself staring at one recessed doorway in particular. It was on my left and it looked like all the others.
Except it didn't feel like all the others. I was drawn to it, and even as I was drawn to it, my innate warning system - the buzzing in my ears - grew louder and louder.
There's danger here.
The gilded door gleamed dully in the muted lights. I was alone in the hallway. I couldn't hear a sound, and my hearing was damn good.
Still, my head buzzed; my skin prickled.
Behind this door was a terrified little girl - the same little girl who had been calling me these past few days.
The steel door might as well have been a vault door. The hotel gave its exalted guests a lot of security and privacy.
Too much privacy.
The door would have multiple locks, including a deadbolt and no doubt another one elsewhere. Maybe near the floor or ceiling. This wasn't your standard hotel door. Up here, on this floor, nothing was standard.
Sometimes I wondered how strong I really was. It's not an easy thing to test, unless you want to draw attention to yourself. A few years back, while out jogging, I paused next to an old Volkswagen Beetle. On a whim, I reached down, felt underneath, and then lifted it three feet off the ground.
A few weeks ago I had punched through a bulletproof prison glass and nearly killed a man.
A steel, ornamental, security door seemed forbidding in and of itself. I could have knocked, sure. I could have called the police and pleaded my case. With luck, an emergency search warrant might be issued.
Think again, Sam. This is reservation land. Things are done differently here.
How differently, I didn't know, but I suspected the hotel would think twice, or maybe even three or four times, before upsetting a guest who plunks down $250K on a card game...and then loses.
Yes, I could have done a lot of things differently at this moment, but none of them felt right.
None, that is, except this.
I raised my foot, leaned back, and drove the heel of my foot as hard as I could into the door. Obliterating my expensive high heel, and obliterating the door hinges, too.
The steel slab fell inward, landing with a thunderous crash.
Chapter Fifty-five
I instinctively stood to one side of the doorway. The metallic echo of the falling door continued to reverberate throughout the suite.
Hell of an entrance.
But there was no one directly in front of me, and as I slipped inside, kicking off my worthless high heels, the alarm in my head continued to buzz, stronger than ever.
Something was very, very wrong. More wrong than I had previously imagined. What it was, I didn't know. Yet.
Maybe I should have called the police. Or at least had a gun.
The suite was opulent. Sickeningly so. No doubt it costs thousands a night, although a guy like Captain Jack probably had it comped.
I'd never had anything comped in my life.
The balcony doors were wide open. Even from the doorway, I had a majestic view of the sweeping southern hillside...and the Ronald Reagan Library.
I had the right place.
Where the door had fallen, it had shattered about a dozen expensive Italian marble slabs. I stepped over the fallen door, crunched over the broken tile, and slipped deeper into the room.
The suite was designed with two main wings that branched off from the main living room. The hallway to my left led to the back rooms, and a shorter hallway to the right led off to a kitchen space and a billiard room and bar. The bar was big enough to liquor up the entire casino.
So far, I hadn't seen anyone. Or heard anyone.
But they were here.
I knew it.
Standing just outside the hallway to the bedroom wing, I closed my eyes and searched for them. Or at least tried to. My senses were chaotic, unclear. I needed a clear head to focus, and focusing now was nearly impossible.
They're in the bedrooms. One of the bedrooms.
I turned down the hallway wing, padding softly over the smooth tiles with my bare feet. There were four doors along this hallway, two on each side. This luxury suite was bigger than three of my houses put together.
They knew I was here. They had to have known. No way that fallen door went undetected. The alarm inside my head continued to sound, a buzzing that surrounded my head like so many wasps.
The doors into the bedrooms were all double doors. Three of the four double doors stood open. The doors at the far end of the hallway were the only ones closed.
They're in there. Doing whatever it is that they're doing.
I felt sick, but I continued forward. I paused at each open door, but the rooms, although packed with luggage, were empty.
Now standing at the far door at the far end of the hallway, I heard a little voice whimpering.
Ah, fuck.
I tried the handle. It was unlocked.
I inhaled deeply, took hold of the handle, and threw the door open.
I thought I was ready for anything.
But I wasn't ready for this.
Chapter Fifty-six
The first thing I saw was a table. A medical table of some type. It was sitting in the center of the spacious room.
The next thing I saw was a little girl on the table.
Maddie.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
She was dead, or close to it.
Red tubes ran from her arms to plastic bags full of blood. Her blood. She was wrapped in a white robe covered with droplets of blood. Her blood. Her eyes were closed and now I could just make out her little chest rising and falling slowly. A single light shone down on her.
What the fuck was going on?
My first instinct was to run to her. But I resisted. My agency training superseded my natural instinct.
She's breathing; she's not dead; stay still.
I knew I wasn't alone. Other than Maddie, I knew someone else was in the room.
Perhaps more than one.
Psychic hits are great. But they only get you so far.
At the open doorway, I paused, listening. I heard nothing. No, wait. I heard breathing from deeper inside the room. Nasally breathing.
Mr. Carl Luck.
So where was Captain Jack?
He's in here, too. The sick bastard is in here, too. Siphoning Maddie's blood.
For what?
The answer was all too obvious.
He's a vampire.
"You got that right, little lady."
I couldn't pinpoint the location of the voice, but it seemed to come from somewhere above. I was also all too aware that the speaker had read my thoughts.
"Right again, little lady. Now don't be shy, step on in here. We don't bite." The voice chuckled.
My head was buzzing. Danger was everywhere. Perhaps at every turn. I looked down the hall. There was nothing. The danger was all in this room.
I had seen only one other vampire in my life, and that was just the other day. The vampire who had attacked me years ago had done so in a blur.
For the first time in a long, long time, I didn't know what to do.
Meanwhile, there was a little girl bleeding to death.
I hadn't used a gun in a long time, but I wish I had one now. Carl I wasn't worried about. Captain Jack was another story. Captain Jack was the enigma. The kink in the chain.
Maddie made a small, mewing sound. I saw something forming around her. A black halo.
Shit.
I considered dashing in and grabbing her, but I knew a recently fed vampire like Captain Jack would be powerful. Not to mention I knew instinctively that Carl Luck was armed...and not with just a traditional weapon, either.
It was the reason my alarm was sounding off so loudly.
He had silver bullets in his gun. I was sure of it.
The moment I thought that, the southern voice laughed heartily from somewhere in the room.
The black halo around Maddie continued growing.
I didn't know what to do.
It was an ambush, that much was for sure.
And that's when I heard a noise from behind me. When I turned to look, I saw a sight that was both welcomed and very, very surreal.
It was Aaron King, the old detective from Los Angeles, slipping into the hallway behind me. He raised a finger to his lips to shush me. I nodded.
Maddie needed to be saved.
Now.
I dashed into the room, trusting my instincts, trusting Aaron King, and praying like hell we all made it through this alive.