“How do imagined walls have molecules to keep them upright?” he countered, trudging ahead. “Besides, he’s not imaginary anymore. And now we know there’s something worth guarding in there. We’re on the right track.”
“Who cares if I’m not even allowed on the train?” I grimaced, lifting my feet higher as I walked, as if that would keep my aura from staining the pristine snowbanks. Berry slushies.
“Gonna let something like a little bleeding aura stop you?” he said teasingly.
“Easy for you to say,” I almost snarled. “Your aura’s packed tighter than a can of tuna.”
He shrugged, turning back to trudge ahead of me, shooting over his shoulder, “All we have to do is get you inside so you can access one of the interior portals.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” he said, ignoring my sarcasm. His stride was longer than mine but I stretched to fit in his footprints, hoping to ease the chill around my ankles every time I took a step. “I go in, in uniform, and scout out the portals first. Once I have their locations, I call you inside.”
“Yeah, because yelling out ‘Joanna Archer’ in the middle of the craps pit won’t be at all obvious.”
Smirking, he held out a palm-sized device. “I’ll call you with this.”
I halted, took the remote, and clicked the button on the side, speaking clearly into the slats. “A walkie-talkie?” My voice sounded from somewhere near his ass area.
Hunter reached behind him and pulled out its twin. “Not just a walkie-talkie, but one identical to those used by Valhalla security, in all ways but two. First, I set it to a channel only the two of us can access. Even if the signal’s detected, they won’t be able to locate it until we’re long gone.”
Okay, so I was impressed, but I had my badass superhero face on, and wasn’t about to show it. “And second?”
“Second,” he retorted, just as badass, “you’re the only one who can use it. Anyone else depresses that button, and the device explodes, taking a limb with it.”
I grinned. “Nasty.”
“I take it you approve.”
My smile widened. “So where am I going to be hiding with my handy-dandy explosive device while you’re locating the portals?”
“Parking garage,” he said, and held up a hand before I could protest. “The floors are monitored by cameras, but they only capture certain angles. The stairwell can’t be viewed at all. The third level leads directly into the video arcade. I figure with all the noise and sound and color, that’ll be the least likely place you and your bleeding aura will be noticed. From there, we make a quick sprint to the first portal, and we’re off.”
We started trudging forward again. The Strip seemed a lot longer covered in snow. “Wow, got it all figured out, don’t you?”
“As best I could given time and resources.”
And it sounded good. He must’ve been refining the details while I was doing my Exorcist imitation the night before. “So that’s all we need,” I said, sighing. “You on the inside, me with an explosive toy, and a half dozen portals to choose from.”
“And luck,” Hunter added, over his shoulder. “Don’t forget Lady Luck.”
“That fickle bitch?” I muttered, slipping the walkie-talkie into my black cargo pocket. “How could I ever forget her?”
Valhalla’s parking garage was planted at the end of a road veering off from the more accessible valet entrance, and stacked like a concrete layer cake, with different colors and numbers to help guests remember which floor they’d parked on. There was nothing nefarious to indicate it was any different than any other garage along the Strip. In fact, the most ominous thing was the lack of vehicles housed within the normally packed floors. Valhalla was suffering the effects of the valley virus as much as any other property, which had to suck for the hotel’s shareholders, but happily decreased my chances of being observed by mortal or agent alike.
Unfortunately, I thought as I settled beneath a metal stairwell, it also meant the casino floor would be less crowded. My red wig and sunglasses were pretty slapdash and would go only so far to shield my identity. I may have scoffed at the notion of Lady Luck, but Hunter was right. The precautions we’d already taken were no guarantee this all wouldn’t blow up in our faces once it was set into motion.
I passed the time by concentrating on pulling my energy inward, finding a place of balance mortals had to spend hours in yoga or meditation to achieve. I’d learned to reach it in seconds, and hold it for hours. Within five minutes I felt like the inside of a smoky crystal ball. My exterior felt fragile compared to the power swirling inside me, like a storm was swelling, brewing in…
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I frowned as a sound broke through my serene centeredness. There it was again. Laughter-joyous and innocent, like the tinkle of tiny chimes in a soft spring wind. I rose from my hiding spot, swiftly looked about, then darted to the edge of the parking structure to peer over the side from where the sound had risen.
Buh-bye Buddha, because there she was, a full-fledged Shadow agent, pheromones wafting from her like heated sunflowers, the power from her recent metamorphosis snapping around her in invisible sparks. Even with her back to me Regan DuPree appeared lighthearted, smiling up at a man, arm linked in his, strolling into the hotel without a care in the world. She’d changed her appearance drastically, though she looked moderately familiar…probably, I thought, because I’d recognize her anywhere. Her hair had been chopped short, and now framed her face in an auburn bob. She’d kept her compact build, though, eschewing the femme fatale look for something a little more streamlined.
I sighted her within the crosshairs of my conduit, and almost blew out the back of her pretty little head, but caught myself when I realized there was the issue of the mortal witness standing next to her. I tore my eyes away from the new, improved Regan, and inhaled deeply as my eyes fell on the back of the man’s head. For a moment my eyes and nose warred with one another. I couldn’t assign any olfactory or visual meaning to what my senses were telling me. It was like picking up a glass and expecting to take a sip of milk, only to realize too late that you were drinking wine.
But the confusion lasted only a moment. It was a long, drawn-out moment, to be sure; the longest of my life. But it would never take longer than that for me to recognize Ben Traina.
“No,” I whispered, as that bell-like laugh drifted up to me again.
The exhalation cost me. Regan whipped around, and I ducked behind the concrete wall, squeezing my eyes shut against the vision of Regan clutching Ben’s arm…and him smiling back down at her.
What was he-? And why-? And how could he-?
But I knew what, and why, and how. Hadn’t he spelled it out to me in our recent night together? Don’t leave me again. I can’t take anymore.
But I had left him, hadn’t I? Left him to wake alone again, with nothing but a note that essentially read, Don’t call me, I’ll call you.
And now he’d ended up with Regan. Even in my addled state I put it together easily. She had studied me and my past, and had targeted my lover. She was the woman he’d been talking to on the computer. She was Rose.
And she looked familiar, I thought, because she’d altered her appearance to look like me. The Joanna me.
“I’m gonna kill her. I’m gonna fucking…”
I was rising to take aim again, give chase if I had to, when a family of five stepped out of the garage elevator. As I ducked behind a red Buick while they made their way to their car; luggage, two children, and an infant in tow, the interruption gave me a moment to remember why I was there, and forced me to admit I couldn’t do anything about Ben and Regan right now. Not with Hunter counting on me, and the entire valley’s survival at stake.