"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 at - um - you," 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 wine...doesn'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 that...okay?"
"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 slippery - like bone in my hand - and 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?"
Lee set the dice in my hand. "When you hear hoofbeats, look for horses. That would be the common rolls in this case. I knew you'd roll something odd. A zebra."
I grinned, rather liking the idea, and the dice flew from me almost before he moved my chips to another square. My pulse quickened, and as Lee explained the details of odds and betting, I rolled again, and again, and again, the table becoming louder and more excited. It wasn't long before I caught on. The risk, the question of what would happen and the breathless wait until the dice settled, was akin to being on a run, only better because here it was little plastic chips on the line, not my life. Lee switched his tutorial to other ways to wager, and when I dared to make a suggestion, he beamed, gesturing that the table was mine.
Delighted, I took over the betting, letting it ride where it was while Lee put a hand on my shoulder and whispered the odds of throwing this and that. He smelled like sand. I could feel his excitement through the thin material of my silk shirt, and the warmth of his fingers seemed to linger on my shoulder when he shifted to put the dice in my hand.
I looked up when the table cheered my latest roll, surprised that almost everyone was clustered about us and that we had somehow become the center of attention. "Looks like you have it." Lee smiled as he took a step back.
Immediately my face went slack. "You're leaving?" I asked as the red-cheeked guy drinking beer pressed the dice into my hand and urged me to throw them.
"I need to go," he said. "But I couldn't resist meeting you." Leaning close, he said, "I enjoyed teaching you craps. You're a very special woman, Rachel."
"Lee?" Confused, I set the dice down and the people around the table groaned.
Lee slid the dice into his hand and put them in mine. "You're hot. Don't stop."
"Do you want my phone number?" I asked. Oh God, I sounded desperate.
But Lee smiled, his teeth hidden. "You're Rachel Morgan, the I.S. runner who quit to work with last living Tamwood vamp. You're in the phone book - in four places, no less."
My face flamed, but I managed to stop myself before I told everyone I wasn't a hooker.
"Till next time," Lee said, raising his hand and inclining his head before he walked away.
Setting the dice down, I backed from the table so I could watch him vanish up the stairway at the back of the boat, looking good in his tux and purple sash. It matched his aura, I decided. A new shooter took my place, and the noise returned.
My good mood soured, I retreated to a table by a cold window. One of the wait staff brought me my three buckets of chips. Another set a fresh Dead Man's Float on a linen napkin. A third lit the red candle and asked me if I needed anything. I shook my head, and he eased away. "What's wrong with this picture?" I whispered as I rubbed my fingers into my forehead. Here I was dressed up like a young rich widow, sitting alone in a casino with three buckets of chips. Lee had known who I was and never let on? Where in hell was Kisten?
The excitement at the craps table nosedived, and people started pulling away in twos and threes. I counted to a hundred, then two hundred. Angry, I stood, ready to cash in my chips and find Kisten. Little boys' room, my ass. He was probably upstairs playing poker - without me.
Chip buckets in hand, I jerked to a stop. Kisten was coming down the stairs, movements sharp and quick with a living vampire's speed. "Where have you been?" I demanded when he came even with me. His face was tight and I could see a line of sweat on him.
"We're leaving," he said shortly. "Let's go."
"Hold up." I jerked out of the grip he had on my elbow. "Where've you been? You left me all alone. Some guy had to teach me how to throw craps. See what I won?"
Kisten glanced down at my buckets, clearly not impressed. "The tables are fixed," he said, shocking me. "They were entertaining you while I talked to the boss."
I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. I jerked back when he went for my elbow again. "Stop trying to drag me around," I said, not caring that people were watching. "And what do you mean, you were talking to the boss?"
He gave me an exasperated look, the first hints of stubble showing on his chin. "Can we do this outside?" he said, obviously in a hurry.
I glanced at the big men coming down the stairway. This was a gambling boat. It wasn't Piscary's. Kisten was handling the undead vampire's affairs. He was here leaning on the new guy in town, and he had brought me in case there was trouble. My chest tightened in anger as it all started to come together, but discretion was the wiser part of valor.
"Fine," I said. My boots made muted thumps in time with my pulse as I headed for the door. I dropped my buckets of chips on the counter and smiled grimly at the chip lady. "I want my winnings donated to the city fund for rebuilding the burned orphanages," I said tightly.
"Yes, ma'am," the woman said politely, weighing them out.
Kisten took a chip from the pile. "We're going to cash this one out."
I plucked it from his fingers, mad at him for having used me like this. This was where he wanted Ivy to go with him. And I had fallen for it. Whistling, I tossed the chip to the craps dealer. He caught it, inclining his head in thanks.
"That was a hundred-dollar chip!" Kisten protested.
"Really?" Ticked, I took another, throwing it after the first. "I don't want to be a cheap ass," I muttered. The woman handed me a receipt for $8,750, donated to the city's fund. I stared at it for a moment, then tucked it in my clutch purse.
"Rachel," Kisten protested, his face going red behind his blond hair.
"We're keeping nothing." Ignoring Kisten's coat that the doorman was holding for me, I blew out the door with its double S's. One for Saladan, perhaps? God, I was a fool.
"Rachel..." Anger made Kisten's voice hard as he leaned out the door after me. "Come back here and tell her to cash one of them out."
"You gave me the first ones, and I won the rest!" I shouted from the foot of the ramp, my arms wrapped around me in the falling snow. "I'm donating all of them. And I'm pissed at you, you bloodsucking coward!"
The man at the foot of the ramp snickered, steeling his face into impassivity when I glared at him. Kisten hesitated, then closed the door and came down after me, my borrowed coat over his arm. I stomped to his car, waiting for him to unlock the door for me or tell me to call a cab.
Still putting on his coat, Kisten stopped beside me. "Why are you mad at me?" he said flatly, his blue eyes starting to go black in the dim light.
"That is Saladan's boat, isn't it?" I said furiously, pointing. "I may be slow, but I eventually catch on. Piscary runs the gambling in Cincinnati. You came out here looking for Piscary's cut. And Saladan turned you down, didn't he? He's moving in on Piscary's turf, and you brought me as backup knowing I would fight for your ass if things got out of control."
Incensed, I ignored his teeth and his strength and put my face inches from his. "Don't you ever trick me into backing you up again. You could have gotten me killed with your little games. I don't get a second chance, Kisten. Dead is dead for me!"
My voice echoed off the nearby buildings. I thought of the ears listening from the boat, and my face burned. But I was angry, damn it, and this was going to be settled before I got back in Kisten's car. "You dress me up to make me feel special," I said, my throat tight and my anger high. "Treat me as if taking me out was something you wanted to do for me even if it was only in the hope of sinking your teeth in, and then I find out it's not even that but business? I wasn't even your first choice. You wanted Ivy to come with you, not me! I was your alternate plan. How cheap do you think that makes me feel?"
He opened his mouth, then shut it.
"I can understand you using me as a second-choice date because you're a man and therefore a jerk!" I exclaimed. "But you knowingly brought me out here into a potentially dangerous situation without my spells, without my charms. You said it was a date, so I left everything at home. Hell, Kisten, if you wanted backup, I would have!
"Besides," I added, my anger starting to slow since he seemed to actually be listening instead of spending the time formulating excuses. "It would have been fun knowing what was going on. I could have pumped people for information, stuff like that."
He stared at me, surprise mirrored in his eyes. "Really?"
"Yeah, really. You think I became a runner for their dental plan? It would've made for more fun than having some guy teach me craps. That was your job, by the way."
Kisten stood next to me, a dusting of snow starting to accumulate on his leather coat draped over his arm. His face was long and unhappy in the dim light from a streetlamp. He took a breath, and my eyes narrowed. It escaped him in a quick sound of defeat. I could feel my blood racing, and my body was both hot and cold from my anger and the cutting wind off the river. I liked even less that Kisten could probably read my feelings better than I could.
His eyes with their growing rim of blue flicked past me to the boat. As I watched, they flashed to black, chilling me. "You're right," he said shortly, his voice tight. "Get in the car."
My anger flamed back. Son of a bitch... "Don't patronize me," I said tightly.
He reached out, and I jerked away before he could touch me. Black eyes looking soulless in the dim light, he turned his reach for me into opening my door. "I'm not," he said, his motions edging into that eerie vamp quickness. "There are three men coming off the boat. I can smell gunpowder. You were right, I was wrong. Get in the damn car."