Authors: Liz Newman
"She asked me to be her flesh bait.
Told me, actually."
"There are enough men around to do that for her.
Although," Christine murmured, "her venom makes men into the walking undead. Her venom changes men into zombies. They have maladies that torment them during the day, skin issues, health issues, mental issues. At night, they never sleep. They are simply programmed to do things. A man brought you to her, correct? One she had bitten."
"Yeah."
"I need you to find this guy and have him tell you where to find the King of the Dead."
"What will Aoleon do with the King of the Dead? Who is he?"
"That's classified information. What I can tell you is that he is another one of these mythical creatures running around Vegas who refuses to work with the CIA. Will you cooperate?"
"If I say no, what are you going to do?" I said.
"Lock me up for a hundred years if I don't cooperate?"
"I can always take notes and pass your case down to the next agent when I die of a ripe old age.
She can pass your case down, and so on. We already have people like you in our custody. Changed by vampires in Portland, Albuquerque, San Francisco by other vampires. Although none so... fresh. Aoleon is unique because she creates zombies. Las Vegas is the perfect abode for zombies."
She waved at the waitress and pointed to her coffee cup.
The waitress sauntered over to the table. Christine's eyes danced with mine over the pouring stream of coffee. "You work for me," Christine said, "and when we get our hands on Aoleon, we will drain every last bit of venom from her body and inject it into yours. Then you can stay forever young."
"I was
a prostitute," I sneered. "Do I look like I want to live forever?"
"Then why did you let her change you?" Christine tilted her head with amusement.
"Because I hate looking old! And like everything else I've done in my life, I didn't think it through long enough."
"There are ways of killing vampires, especially half ones like you.
Quick ways. You won't feel a thing."
"All right.
Then that's what I'm in for."
"Look,
Eden, if you change your mind and you succeed, you will remain on the government payroll indefinitely. The condition is you must find a way to kill Aoleon. Do we have an agreement?"
The waitress set a plate with rare steak down before me, and a spinach and mushroom omelet before Agent Christine Leavensworth.
My mouth watered as I hurriedly grasped a knife in my hand and sawed at the steak, licking every last drop of delicious beef blood. "Sure," I said.
"We've got to get you on assignment right away.
Before you lose your mind and start to hunt and kill humans. First things first, you find the guy that brought you to these women. He's probably got some malady by now. If he hasn't seen the King of the Dead already, he'll be paying a visit soon."
"What about my apartment?"
"
'Mah apartament
?" Christine repeated mockingly. "Don't worry about that. I'm having it taped off as a crime scene. No one will come looking for you; I can promise you that. But don't go back." She withdrew a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills and slid it across the table.
“
This should hold you over for while. If you need me, my office is at the Tiki Towers. Anytime between nine and five." She threw a Benjamin down for the check, gathered up her briefcase and left. The waitress picked up the tab and thanked me profusely for the tip.
"O
f course," I said, taking undue credit. "Could you bring me another steak? Fresh out of the fridge, please."
My
silver stiletto heels clacked on the marble floor as I sauntered into the Mardi Gras Saloon and hopped onto my favorite barstool. Reaching into my purse, I dug through lipsticks, old receipts, and boxes of tissue until I found a compact mirror. I flipped it open and gazed at my reflection. A woman of lush beauty, infused with youth, gazed back at me. I flipped the mirror shut and found last night's snarky bartender grinning at me.
"Can I get you a drink?"
"Top-shelf margarita."
"
Coming up," he said as he tapped his fist on the bar. He poured mixers and ice into a shaker and poured the concoction into a glass rimmed with salt. "On the house, gorgeous."
"Thanks."
I took a sip. "Hey, there's a craps dealer who works here named Patrick. Blonde hair. Nice eyes. Do you know what time he comes in?"
The bartender peered at my f
ace. "I think so. Did your mom come in last night? Someone who kind of looked like you left with him. I mean, I don't want to get anyone in trouble or anything. A woman's got to do what she's got to do but she looked a little old to be doing it, you know?" He chuckled.
I bared my
long, pointed teeth and snarled at him. He jumped back into the shelves and the bottles rattled from the force of his back. Two snifter glasses crashed on the floor around his black shoes. "Patrick's right over there," he said, pointing to the casino. His Adam's apple protruded prominently from his neck as he swallowed.
I curled my fingers around my drink and swung my legs over the barstool
, sidling over to the gaming tables. Patrick held the croupier stick as he called out the number six at a craps table. A crowd of middle-aged women clapped and chattered on one side of the table, while two fat old men in T-shirts slumped over the other side, placing five- and ten-dollar chips over various numbers. They stared at me as I walked up. "Now that's a hottie," the more robust of the two said. "What are you up to later, sugar?"
"Not much. Can't a lady play here without being bothered?" I stood next to him, staring straight ahead at the cloud of smoke that hung over the penny slot machines across the way, watching as the cloud twirled up into the ventilation system as it started up with a
woosh
inaudible to everyone except creatures of the night with supernatural powers of hearing.
"Sure. If you want to play on the other side."
"I like this side," I replied.
"Then not a lady who looks like you," he muttered into my ear and turned his body in my direction. "What's your business, coming inside a casino all alone like that. Why, if you were my girl, I'd chain you and lock you up in a trunk, with that mouth."
"Only a statement like that could shock me in this sick town," I replied. I turned my head toward him and gave him a winning smile. "And I'm only a half a vampire."
The man chuckled. "You're a flirty little thing, aren't you?" He ran his finger up my arm and my skin crawled with revulsion. "You could be a part of my collection, you know. I'd take good care of you."
"No, thanks." I focused on his heartbeat and listened to its cadence. My hearing was so acute that if I concentrated hard enough, I could hear the blood flowing through his veins. The sound of the blood rushing startled me and my head snapped backward as I stared up at the ceiling and the black orbs that resembled the multiple shiny eyes of a spider's. I felt my canines elongating. The need to bite into the man next to me grew overwhelming. I could almost see myself sinking my teeth into his face as blood spurted in a rushing stream from his scalp, while the entire casino ran screaming. I could guarantee I would never see Patrick again if I gave into this impulse, and Aoleon would dangle the prospect of eternal life before me as I watched myself age over a hundred years and appear decrepit for most of that century.
My hand clasped at his chest. I could feel his heartbeat. There was an irregularity to the cadence. "Get away from me," I snarled as my mouth began to salivate. I pushed him as gently as I could, struggling to ignore the overwhelming instinct that prompted me to dig my fingernails into his chest, rip out his heart, and suck it dry.
His mouth twisted into a grimace as his eyes narrowed with anger. "I was here first. Get the hell on, girl." He bent his elbow below the table's height and swiftly punched me in the side of my torso. If I were human, a punch like that would have left me gasping but as a half-vampire, I felt simply a tap of pressure from a balled-up baby fist. He shoved me unceremoniously to the side and bent down to place a stack of chips on the Pass Line. "Glad this bitch is leaving," he said to his friend. "Means good luck is on the way."
My eyes wandered around to the casino security men blustering about staring at card players, as the craps dealers watched the dice scrabble across the green felt and hit the small mirror on the other side of the table. I lifted my stiletto-heeled foot up and brought it down hard on the robust man's sneaker, punching a hole in the tender webbing of skin between the bones of his foot. He gagged, his body reeling with shock. Quick as lightning and far too fast for the naked human eye to see, I brought my fist up to his chest in a swift backhand motion and slammed it against his chest. He crumbled to the ground as casino security swooped upon him. The number eleven rolled and he would have won a thousand dollars.
A security guard held his fingers over the man's neck. "He's gone," the security guard said. "Heart attack." Switching on his walkie-talkie, he called for the paramedics.
Patrick held up his hands to stop the game as the man's friend hastily harvested the dead man's winnings and made a beeline for the casino cashier.
"Patrick," I murmured.
Patrick looked up and blinked his eyes.
He stared at me in disbelief as the paramedics rushed in and lifted up the dead man's body onto a stretcher. The pit boss came by and ordered the croupiers to continue the gaming once the spectacle was over.
Patrick
cleared his throat loudly as he placed the white marker with the word
On
engraved in black lettering over the number six. "Eden. So nice to see you again. Did you come to play?"
"Oh yes," I replied.
"Cat and mouse. You seen one lately? A mouse?" The other players glanced up at me and turned back to their game as the dice rolled and Patrick raked them back in with his croupier stick, handing them back to a new middle-aged man in a T-shirt who rolled them again.
"Can't say that I have," Patrick said.
"They keep the inside of this place pretty clean."
"So I hear.
No rats, no cats, no zombies. Of course, there are some rats that feed the cat by bringing the cat other rats. Kind of sick, isn't it. You ever see two rats kissing?"
"I'm taking my lunch break," Patrick called out to the dealers as he handed a man in a brightly printed vest the croupier stick.
"Eden, come with me."
"Am I going to get caught up in a tremendously
messed-up situation? Kind of like last night?"
"Probably.
But it shouldn't be anything worse than you've seen before."
"Let's go.
Only I'm staying in public this time. Drink?" I pointed to the Mardi Gras bar and the bartender who glanced at us nervously. "He's buying."
* * *
Patrick and I slid into a booth at the casino's
coffee shop. I flipped my hair over my shoulder, amazed again at its new silken texture. A waitress came by and stood over us, her pen poised. "What can I get for you?" she said as she snapped a pink piece of gum between her jaws.
"I'll take a club sandwich," Patrick said as he pushed his menu
toward her.
"Steak," I said. "Raw.
"
She laughed.
"I can have the cook braise it rare. I don't think I can serve it raw. It's against the health code."
The thought of cooked meat was about as savory as eating a slice of water
-soaked bread. I sighed. "I'll take it. Very rare. Could you ask the cook to pour the pan juices into a bowl?"
"Sure," she said.
She picked up our menus and waddled away.
"Now I'm a true lady of the night," I said as Patrick chuckled.
We sat in silence for a few moments. His handsome face still beguiled me, and I recalled how I felt last night when I left the casino by his side. Like the luckiest woman in the world. And not because of the money.
"Why did you do it, Patrick? Why did you try to make a meal for them out of me? You know, I've met a bunch of real bums in this town. But you had something I had, too. A mixture of goodness coupled with regret. Sure, most people would look at us and say we're bottom dwellers. Given to our demons and vices, coming to Vegas to wallow in our sins. But when I met you last night, I saw a ray of hope. I thought maybe something in the world might still have light. I thought that something was you."
"I'm sorry for bringing you to them," he said. "I don't normally...bring her people. But Aoleon's done so much for me I couldn't say no. I saw you at the bar and you looked like you wished you were dead. Like the world had become to heavy of a burden to bear. So I thought it would be best to try and set you free. So many guests come in here, all buzzed and happy go lucky, I didn't have the heart, and she'd been after me for a few nights now..."
"If it wasn't the
vampires who got me, it would have been some axe murderer. I followed you in that alley. I realized I've been wishing for death for a long time. Sure, I'm pissed off at you but...I'm tired of blaming people for my own problems. That's what got me into this mess into the first place. Patrick, some pretty messed-up things have happened to me in my lifetime. If I went into them, we could be sitting here for the next ten years and I only have a day to find the King of the Dead or those vampire bitches are going to tear me into pieces, and if they don't, the United States government is going to lock me into a vault for the next hundred years until I die. So I've become pretty wise in the face of those possibilities and I know now my fate is up to me. And you're going to help me."