Devilish Game (Shadow Guild: The Rebel 4)

We neared the hulking guard, and he turned to open an enormous go

lden door for us. I led Carrow into a spacious lobby. Crystal chandeliers gleamed overhead, shedding a sparkling light on the gold and velvet opulence of the interior.

It was Anton.

Like a petty king with too much money and no taste.

Two guards stood waiting for us, each at least seven feet tall. It was rare that I met someone taller than me, but it was immediately obvious that their size slowed them. Each wore a suit and held a slender black wand.

I leaned down to Carrow and whispered, “These men will check you for magical weapons, but they won’t touch. Try to suppress your power as best you can.”

She nodded, and I could feel her trying to draw it into herself. She’d become so much more proficient over the last few weeks, but her power had also grown. I could feel it inside her even now, expanding. Could she tell that it was doing that?

I had to assume so.

I did the same, making sure my magic was under lock and key. The men approached us, hovering their wands over our chests, then moving them around our bodies. I waited for the telltale vibration that indicated it had sensed something and was gratified when there was only silence. We didn’t need to draw any attention to ourselves.

“They’re clean,” one of the guards murmured to the other.

One of the guards nodded. “You’re done.”

“Thank you.” I took Carrow’s hand again and tucked it into my arm.

We left the men behind, strolling into the main part of the casino. As we entered the enormous space, Carrow gasped. “Wow.”

“I suppose it does make quite an impression.” A lofty, vaulted ceiling was hung with even larger crystal chandeliers than the lobby. They were the size of cars, in fact. The gambling tables were gilt-edged, along with everything else in the godforsaken place.

“You really don’t like it here, do you?” Carrow asked.

“No. It’s an obscene use of wealth. And beyond that, in poor taste. Too much gold, too fussy, too ornate.”

“Yes, I can see how you might not like that.”

I looked down at her. “Know me so well, do you?”

She shrugged. “A bit.”

I found I wanted her to know me better. I shouldn’t want that now—our bond was broken. But I did.

A server in a small black cocktail dress approached, a tray of champagne glasses carefully balanced near her head. She smiled at us. “Drink?”

I took two. “Thank you.”

She nodded and disappeared into the crowd. I handed one glass to Carrow. “Don’t drink.”

“No?”

I shook my head. “We need to see them made to be sure they haven’t been spiked with something. But we want to carry one, so we blend.”

Even now, I could see two crime bosses that I recognized—one from the Chicago Dens and another from New York. Either would like to have me incapacitated and willing to spill my secrets.

“They aren’t just meant to make us gamble more?” she asked.

“That’s their purpose, yes. But they could be spiked. Either with something to lower our inhibitions or something worse.”

She grimaced.

“Come.” I drew her toward the bar. “We need a drink in hand so that people will lower their guards around us.”