Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand (Kitty Norville 5)

“There’s some kind of feud between you and Balthasar’s troupe. I can see that much.”

“Feud?” Nick said, laughing. “It’s a war.”

“Over what?” I said.

Grant hadn’t taken his gaze off the lycanthrope. He said, “The nature of the universe.”

Now I laughed. “You’re joking.”

But neither of them reacted, locked in some epic stare-down. Odysseus Grant tapped the deck he was holding twice, then turned up the first card: ace of spades. Nick flinched but immediately straightened again and didn’t give ground.

“You really ought to leave,” Grant said.

“I will. I just came to deliver a message. To her.” He moved toward the stage, toward me, pulling something out of his pocket.

Grant moved to intercept us—to shield me from him. Frankly, though, I didn’t know who to be more worried about.

“Give this to her,” Nick said, tossing the thing from his pocket up to Grant. Still watching Nick, Grant handed it back to me.

It was a plastic bag holding a scrap of cloth, part of the collar of a white T-shirt. I opened it. The smell of Ben hit me, filled me. The plastic had preserved the scent.

My stomach turned to ice. “Where is he?”

Nick shrugged. “Balthasar said that would get your attention.”

Shit. My second thought was, not again. How many times could a guy need rescuing? Assuming there was something left to rescue.

“Why?” I said, my voice taut. “What does Balthasar want with him?”

“I guess you’ll have to go find out.”

I started running.

“Kitty!” Grant called, finally turning from Nick to reach after me. I stopped to listen. “It’s a trap. You know that.”

“So? Give me an alternative.”

He didn’t. Couldn’t. Nick wore an amused smile, like he was enjoying himself way too much. I ran past him, out of the theater. Nick might have followed me. I didn’t wait around to see.

Boris and Sylvia were still out there, which was one thing too many to worry about. If I moved fast enough, they wouldn’t spot me. So I just had to move faster.

But times like this, panic made time move way too slowly.

Chapter 17

I caught a cab, thinking that would give me some protection from the bounty hunters. From their point of view, I’d have just disappeared, I hoped. I left Nick behind. Saw him run out the doors, then stop, looking after me—he was smiling. Because I was walking into the trap, but what choice did I have? I made phone calls to Evan and Brenda. That they didn’t answer meant they were in a situation where they couldn’t have their phones on. Or they were ignoring me. I left messages telling them about Boris and Sylvia at the Diablo, and about Balthasar’s troupe at the Hanging Gardens. I didn’t have time to wait for them. I also left a message with Detective Gladden. I didn’t know what he would make of all this. I had no idea what my voice must have sounded like, if my messages would even be comprehensible.

Worry about that later.

I sat in the back seat, glancing out all the windows, looking over my shoulder, afraid of what I’d find following me. The car didn’t go fast enough, of course, and I was having trouble catching my breath.

The driver glanced at me in his rearview mirror. “You look like you’re late for your wedding or something,” he said.

That was hilarious. I covered my mouth and giggled.

Finally, we arrived at the Hanging Gardens. I paid the driver too much and left the door open in my hurry to rush into the hotel. People stared as I ran past. But hey, surely panicked people ran through the lobbies of Vegas hotels all the time. How many little tragedies happened in this town every day? I bet someone got jilted at the altar all the time. I wasn’t anything special.

I reprimanded myself. I hadn’t been jilted at the altar. No need to go inventing tragedies for myself. There were enough real ones in the making at the moment.