Hunt the Moon
Page 65

The vamps stopped, realizing that their prey was gone, about the time that a piercing whistle from the other end of the garage caused all our heads to jerk back around. Silhouetted against the fading daylight were two stooped, wrinkled forms. One of them was waving, while the other held up Casanova’s box.
I hadn’t even realized it was gone.
Pemphredo turned around and dropped her filthy shorts, showing the guards a wrinkled white ass. Deino waggled the box some more and pointed. The challenge was clear: come and get him.
“No, wait,” I told the guards, glancing around for Enyo. She was the scariest of the three, and she was currently AWOL. “One of them is missing. We need to—”
I might as well have saved my breath, because they didn’t even hesitate. They started back toward the gals at full speed, just blurs against the gloom—until a plastic-wrapped pallet went sailing through the air like a Frisbee. Half the guards hit the wall with a sickening crunching sound. The other half turned, snarling, and came after Enyo.
Or, at least, they tried. But the bus depot contained one of the main loading docks for the hotel, which explained all the stuff sitting around. Including a case of produce that Enyo had just popped the top on, repurposing the contents as veggie grenades. Or make that fruit, because the first ten or twelve she threw in rapid-fire succession were cantaloupes. They spilled their slippery guts all over the floor, right about the time the vamps ran across it—and promptly ended up on their vampy asses.
But they were still sliding in our direction, and now they were really pissed. On average, a vampire would prefer to have his body wounded rather than his pride, which at least would leave him bragging rights among his peers. Losing a food fight with three old women, on the other hand, didn’t do a lot for the image. They were going to have a tough time spinning this unless they caught the girls.
Suddenly, the hunt became personal, and that really wasn’t good.
That was especially true because I didn’t think Casanova had bothered to tell his boys what they were facing. If the legends were to be believed, the trio had been created as ancient versions of the Incredible Hulk. Sweet—kind of—as long as they weren’t crossed, they morphed into scary with a little scary on top when threatened.
I’d seen Enyo’s alter ego before, and was really okay with not seeing it again. And it was looking like I’d get my wish. Because she was still in little-old-lady mode, just standing in front of a parked semi, as if asking to be caught.
For some reason, that made me more nervous than the reverse. But the sticky, pissed-off vamps didn’t appear to feel the same way. They lunged for her, and for a moment, I thought it was all over. Until I looked again and they were suddenly gone.
For a second, I thought she must have had another trap. But then a fist-shaped bit of metal bulged out of the side of the semi, followed by a lot of cursing. And laughter, because Enyo was on her knees, slapping the dirty ground and cackling.
“It isn’t funny,” I told her, as four or five other fist- and shoe-shaped bulges appeared.
She looked up at me, tears streaming down the crags on her face. Obviously, she begged to differ.
“I’m serious. They’re probably calling for backup right now. This could get really—”
I didn’t get a chance to finish, because the girls suddenly took off for the escalator. I ran after them, cursing vamps in general and one in particular, because that way led to the lobby. And just on the other side of that was the main casino floor, packed with people escaping the heat and working on tomorrow’s hangover.
And most of them didn’t have a vampire’s ability to throw off severe injury.
There was no point trying to catch the girls on foot, so I didn’t try. I shifted into the corridor in front of them, popping out of space in time to see a bunch more vamps running down the hall. It looked like backup had arrived.
There was no sign of the girls until I turned around and spotted them haring down the corridor toward me. They took in the guards in front of them and then glanced over their shoulders at the ones coming up behind. And then they took off—into a corridor branching to the left.
And, shit. That was the back way to the lobby, a shortcut used by the staff. I shifted again, appearing behind the main desk in time to freak out the nearest clerk and to see little, wrinkled streaks I assumed were the Graeae zip past, headed for—
“Oh, crap.”
I scrambled after them, but of course they beat me to the bridge. It spanned the River Styx, which wound through the stalactite-infested lobby, carrying boatloads of tourists happily on their way to hell. The bridge was for those who wanted a faster way to damnation, or at least bankruptcy, and was usually busier than the riverboats.
It was still fairly early, though, and Dante’s never really heated up until after dark. Security blocked off access to each side of the bridge, but let me through. I walked up to Deino, who was dangling the trap over the water. That wouldn’t have worried me so much if there hadn’t been a big-ass drain right underneath this bridge. A drain Enyo was currently prizing up.
I sighed and leaned over the railing. The water was dark, because the bottom of the concrete channel was painted black. It reflected the overhead lights, which wavered in the ripples Enyo was making sloshing around down there. So I couldn’t read what was written on the drain. But I was pretty sure I knew where it went.
I turned my head to look at Deino.
“I’d consider it a personal favor if you didn’t drop him down the sewer.”
She looked thoughtful.
“Today,” I said.
She grinned.
Something caught my eye and I looked back down at the water. One of the reflections from the overhead lights was drifting upward. It was a testament to how my week had been going that I didn’t so much as blink when it broke the surface and floated into the air, like a small glowing balloon. Only this one had familiar shadows drifting over the surface, one half of which was dark, and the other a blinding, brilliant white. I reached out a hand to touch it, because it looked so solid, so real.
But as soon did, it just sank into my hand and was gone.
And a moment later, so was Deino. She hared away across the bridge with her sisters, leaving me with a cursing, livid, doused vampire flailing around in the dirty water below the bridge. And the feel of cool, cool mist on my fingertips.
Chapter Thirty-three
I heard the yelling as soon as I popped back into the suite, a vaguely familiar voice screeching in one of the back rooms. I paused in the foyer, wondering if I cared. I decided on the negative, and was about to pop back out again, but I waited too long.
Somebody grabbed me.
“Cassie!”
I looked down to find a panicked-looking Fred standing at the bottom of the short flight of steps and gripping my sleeve.
“What now?” I asked, resigned.
“It’s . . . I . . . Marco is off duty and I don’t want to have to call him. It makes it look like I can’t handle things.”
“What kind of things?”
Fred waved a hand toward the interior of the suite. “That thing. He stormed in a few minutes ago and demanded to see you. And, of course, I had to tell him that you weren’t in and I didn’t know when you’d be back. And he went off—”
“He who?”
“—and started going though your stuff. I told him he couldn’t, but—”
I didn’t have to wonder what he meant for long, because a second later, a tall, enraged blond emerged from the hall. He was wearing a glittering green brocade tailcoat that, with his height and overall skinniness, made him look like a particularly fabulous praying mantis. “You!”
A long, bony finger was pointed, and of course it was at me.
“I’ve been wanting to see you,” I told him, but I may as well have saved my breath. Augustine wasn’t listening.
“Who are you wearing, and don’t lie to me!”
“What?”
“A month of my life—a month. Do you understand?” The finger was shaking now, and so was he, but I didn’t think it was in fear of the circling ring of vamps. In fact, I got the impression that Augustine didn’t even see them. His eyes were fixed on me, and if blue eyes could burn, they were doing it. “I have slaved—slaved, worked myself into a frenzy. My masterpiece! Do you understand?”
“No.”
“My masterpiece,” he screeched. “The finest gown I have ever made. It’s almost ready, and what do you do? Who are you wearing?”
“Okay, no touching,” the redhead guard told him, prying long, bony white hands off the front of my shirt.
“You set me up!” Augustine’s usually perfect complexion was an ugly, mottled red. “You planned this all the time!”
“Planned what?” I asked, staying calm because I thought there was an outside chance the guy might actually have a heart attack right there.
“It isn’t ready! Do you understand? Another day, even two—but not by tonight!”
“Tonight? What is tonight?”
“Don’t give me that! We started getting requests this afternoon, but I didn’t think anything of it. It’s normal that people would want to pick up their dresses in advance. They are accustomed to dealing with inferior tailors, people like that Claude, who can’t fit a gown to save his life, or that ridiculous Tyndale. Tyndale—what kind of name is that for a—”
“Augustine—”
“But they kept on coming, didn’t they? Request after request, and do you know how many gowns I have left now? One! The one. The one in comparison to which all others are garbage—garbage. Do you understand? Except for mine, of course, but even they—”
I grabbed him. And I guess that was okay, because none of the vamps interfered this time. “Are you trying to tell me that the dresses for the coronation went out today?”
“You know damned well they did! Which means they changed the date, didn’t they? But no one bothered to tell me, and it isn’t finished! It isn’t—”