Blood Gamble

For once, he didn’t admonish me for my disrespect. He just said, “Arthur and Lucy can’t be allowed to continue as they are, Scarlett. I see no other course of action.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears sliding down my cheeks. “I do,” I said into the phone. “And since, as you said, I am here on my own time, in someone else’s territory, I am going to hang up before you can forbid it. If I don’t come back, please take care of Jack and his family for me.”

“Scarlett—”

I pushed the button and put the phone down on the coffee table. It began to ring again almost immediately, of course. I looked around for a second, picked up one of my boots that had a small heel, and pounded it on the cell phone until it stopped ringing. Then I kept hitting it for a little while, because it made my hands hurt and I wanted that.

Wyatt watched this whole thing dispassionately. When there were no more pieces on the table big enough to stomp, I dropped the boot and looked at him. “How much of that did you get?” I said in a clear voice. I was weirdly proud of that.

“Most of it, I think.”

“Okay. We are going to make a new deal.”

Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

I nodded. “Arthur and Lucy Holmwood are responsible for Ellen’s death. My friend Jameson, the other null, is probably helping them kill as many vampires as they can. I’ll get you the Holmwoods, but in return, I want you to let Jameson slide.”

Wyatt immediately began arguing with that, but I stood up and shouted over him until he stopped. “I know! I know Jameson has helped them do terrible things,” I said hotly. “Maybe he even pulled the trigger himself. But you”—I pointed a finger at him—“do not know what it is to be a null, and neither of us can imagine what Jameson was put through by the cardinal vampire of New York. So you are going to give him a pass, or I will not help you. You can take your money and shove it up your ass.”

We stared at each other for a long, tense moment. I didn’t say that if he didn’t take the deal, I would stop him from leaving the hotel room. I was afraid I would have to back it up . . . actually, I was really scared of the idea that I might back it up. I could throw a knife into this man’s neck to save Jameson, and I didn’t want to face that about myself.

I just prayed he wouldn’t make me.

Nearly a full minute ticked by in agonizing tension before Wyatt’s shoulders relaxed. “Fine,” he said, looking sullen. I pushed out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. “Your boy can walk. But in return, I want your word that if you and I both get through this, you will help me die.”

I winced, but how could I say no? Just a second ago, I’d seriously considered killing Wyatt to save Jameson. How was this any different? “Agreed.”

To my surprise, Wyatt stepped forward, holding out his hand for me to shake, like we were schoolkids making a bet at recess. He was so deadly serious, though, that there was nothing I could do but stand up and shake hands. His grip was firm.

When I released his hand, I said, “Now we just have to figure out where to find them. The theater is too public, and . . .” I trailed off. Wyatt was smiling under the big handlebar mustache. It was not a happy smile. “What?” I asked.

“I can help with that.” He held up his phone. “That call I just got? It was Lucy Holmwood her-goddamned-self. She wanted to invite me to a party tonight.”

Chapter 27

“Okay, wait. What exactly did she say?” I asked.

“That the Holmwoods are having a VIP party for some of the area vampires at midnight, and they’re hoping I’ll join them,” he reported. “I’m not supposed to tell people about it, but I can invite another vampire to accompany me.”

“Do you think they invited you because they know that you hired me?”

“We’re not even sure they know you’re in town,” he pointed out.

“Silvio might have told them.” I told him about my little appearance at the cardinal vampire’s penthouse. This made Wyatt grin.

“Damn, I would have loved to see that,” he said happily. “Anyway, it’s possible that Silvio told them about you, but I wouldn’t lay any money on it. The whole reason the Holmwoods picked him instead of Minerva is because Silvio is stupid. And arrogant. He won’t want the Holmwoods to know that some little girl—pardon me, that’s how he would see it—is causing trouble for him. Would your friend Jameson have told the Holmwoods about you?”

“He said he didn’t.” Of course, he’d said a lot of other things that had turned out to be not true. I knew I couldn’t trust Jameson, but . . . dammit, in my gut, I still couldn’t believe he’d hurt me. If he wanted me dead, or even out of the way, he could have easily arranged to have me attacked, or done it himself. Instead, he’d twisted himself in knots to get me to leave town voluntarily.

Maybe it was stupid, and maybe I was being naive, but I was going to trust that Jameson didn’t want me dead. Therefore, he was probably telling the truth when he said the Holmwoods didn’t know I was in town—at least not from him. “But if they don’t know about me,” I said to Wyatt, “why are they inviting you to the party? There are plenty of vampires in Las Vegas.”

“Because I’ve been asking around about the missing vampires,” he said sensibly. Right. The list I had asked him to make. “I’m thinking they suspect me of planning something, but they don’t know for sure.” Wyatt shrugged. “Either way, I’m a loose end. They probably figured I would accompany Ellen to their last killing party, and since I didn’t, and I’ve been poking around, I need to die.”

“It’s awfully cocky,” I said, not liking it. “They think you’re onto them, and they invite you to come anyway? That makes no sense.”

He suppressed a smile. “That’s because you’re thinking of me as a vampire, and therefore a threat. Ellen and I, we’ve always kept to ourselves. We interact”—he caught himself, cleared his throat, and corrected—“interacted more with Laurel and her family than with other vampires, which has never gone over real well. No one in the Las Vegas community sees me as anything but a weakling who avoids his own kind.”

“Still . . . if they know you’ve been asking around, they must be expecting you to try something.”

He thought about it for a moment. “My guess is, they’ll keep your friend Jameson away from everyone at the beginning of the party. That way, if I do storm in there guns blazing, Lucy and Arthur will be able to take me down right quick. Assuming I behave myself, the null shows up and I get killed with everybody else.”

He sounded so matter-of-fact about it that it weirded me out a little. But I was convinced. “So where is this shindig, anyway?” I asked.

“They’ve got it set up at Erson Station.” Before I could ask, he added, “It’s a historical site, about an hour outside of Vegas, near the Valley of Fire State Park. It’s also rented out for events.”

“What kind of station?”

California girl that I was, I was thinking fire station or maybe bus station, but Wyatt said, “Back in the 1860s, Samuel Erson’s ranch was a regular stop for stagecoaches and the Pony Express line. Sam added on a great big boardinghouse for guests and his own family. The ranch outbuildings are mostly gone now, but the boardinghouse is in good condition. It’s sort of a . . . well, not a museum, exactly, but a minor landmark.”

“You’ve been there?”

Wyatt squinted at me. “Miss Scarlett, I helped Sam nail the original shingles on the roof.”

Ah yes. Vampires. “Is it a good place to kill a bunch of people?”

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “After Sam’s death, the property changed hands a few times. Before it became a historical site, the boardinghouse spent a few decades as a gentlemen’s shooting club.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what it sounds like. There’s a lot of land behind the building, so they would bring in pheasants, or sometimes other small game that’s not native to the area, and the men would pay to hunt them. The whole back area is a killing ground.”