Claimed by Shadow

"What do you want?" he asked swiftly.

After years of watching Tony wheel and deal, this was almost too easy. "I need to find a vampire," I told him. "His name is Antonio, although he may be using an alias. He's said to be somewhere in Faerie. In addition to the golem, I want Antonio's location and enough aid from you to retrieve him." And anyone with him, I silently added. "And sanctuary for Tomas, here at your court, for as long as he needs it.”

“The golem's life and the sanctuary are simple enough," the king said, "but the other…" He trailed off thoughtfully. "I know of the vampire of whom you speak," he finally admitted. "But reaching him will be difficult-and dangerous.”

"As will finding your book," I pointed out.

He hesitated, but the color at the edge of the spiral was starting to bleed to purple. He was out of time and I was the only one who could retrieve the book he wanted so badly. "Done. Bring me the book, and you will have your vampire.”

I nodded and started forward, only to collide with Billy, who was backing away. "I – I need to rethink this," he babbled. "I'll take the next bus.”

"What's wrong with you?" I demanded.

His face was white, and his hands were sketching agitated patterns in the air. "What if I lose my body when we return? I just got it back, Cass!”

"A little while ago, you were worried about what might. happen if you stayed!”

"And now I'm worried about what'll happen if I go." He looked genuinely terrified. "You don't understand what could be through there!”

"Billy! We don't have time for this! You already came through a portal on the way here.”

"Yeah, and look what it got me! Think it through, Cass!”

I had no idea what he was talking about, and wasn't given the chance to find out. "Get in the portal, remnant," the pixie said. "We don't need your kind here.”

"Stay out of this, dolly," Billy warned, swiping at her with his hat.

Suddenly, a blur shot in front of us, heading for the portal, and I barely had a chance to recognize Françoise before a bright light flashed and she was gone. The king let out an enraged bellow. "Bring her back!" he ordered.

The pixie unsheathed her tiny sword. I'd seen what that thing could do, but Billy hadn't and he didn't even bother to dodge. The side of the sword caught him in the stomach, lifting him off his feet and smacking him backwards. I had a chance to see his wide-eyed shock, and then he was gone. The pixie flew straight into the portal after him, their flashes coming so close together that they almost looked like one.

I turned to see that Pritkin had collapsed to his knees, Marlowe on his back. I was moving forward to intervene when he suddenly hit the vamp in the temple and simultaneously brought his other elbow back in a savage jab to the ribs. Marlowe let go and staggered backwards, straight into the vortex. Pritkin stayed down for a second, a hand to his injured throat, trying to get his breath back. From his gasping wheezes, it sounded like Marlowe's choke hold had been closer to a strangulation.

"Cassie, you must go," Tomas said urgently. He paused, his expression an odd mix of tenderness and pain. "Try not to get killed.”

"Yeah. You, too." I would have preferred time to say good-bye, but there wasn't any. I kissed him quickly, took a ru

Chapter 13

I came around because a pounding was reverberating in my head. I realized three things simultaneously: I was back at Dante's, the pounding was coming from large speakers masquerading as giant tiki heads and Elvis was looking really rough-even for a dead guy. I blinked and Kit Marlowe shoved a drink into my hand. "Try to look normal," he murmured as Elvis started on the chorus to "Jailhouse Rock.”

I looked around dazedly but found it hard to concentrate on anything but the huge man in white sequins who was swaying in what I guess was meant to be an alluring fashion. The bullet that had recently scalped him had been large caliber, and I didn't think the emergency toupee was holding up too well. The ladies throwing everything from room keys to underwear onstage didn't seem to notice, though. I guess love really is blind.

I wanted to ask what was going on, but my brain and mouth didn't seem to be co

Marlowe picked a blue lace thong off his ear, one of the offerings to the god of rock 'n' roll that hadn't quite made me stage, and tossed it over his shoulder. "We're in trouble," he said u

I raised an eyebrow. What else was new? Marlowe used his swizzle stick to poke the fist-sized shrunken head that was posing as a centerpiece. The fact that the ugly thing sat on a pretty nest of dark green palm fronds and orange birds of paradise helped not at all. A shriveled, raisin-like eye reluctantly opened and rotated in his direction. "Can't it wait? This is my favorite song.”

"I need a refill," Marlowe told it tersely. "One of the same." The head closed its eyes, but its mouth kept moving.

"What-" I paused to swallow because my tongue felt about twice the usual size, then tried again. "What is it doing?”

"Communicating with the bar," Marlowe answered, glancing around surreptitiously.

"I'm going to pass out now," I informed him.

Marlowe shot me a reproving glance. "You will do no such tiling. The Circle has us surrounded. Two of their operatives saw us flash in and now everyone they left at the casino is here. They're too wary of the internal defenses and your abilities to try anything without backup, so we have a few moments, but that's all. You have to be ready to move.”

"Move where? You said we're surrounded.”

"Casanova is going to arrange a diversion, but for the moment all we can do is sit tight. And have a drink," he added, as I tried valiantly to keep my eyes from crossing. "Alcohol usually helps in these cases.”

I nodded, but his words made less of an impression on my fried brain than the little head in the center of the table. It had finished talking to the bar and was now humming along with the music, which was quite a trick for a piece of plastic. I guess normal tourists thought there was some sort of microphone hidden inside the things that relayed their orders, but I knew better. I'd seen one of these before.

We were in Dante's zombie bar-the one known as Headliners because of the gruesome decorations and top-notch, if sadly deceased, entertainers. From past experience, I knew that the heads posing as centerpieces were fake, but not the way the tourists thought. They were enchanted copies designed to look like the only real one in the place, whose desiccated remains were suspended between two carved wooden masks behind the bar. It was rumored to have belonged to a gambler who had unwisely welshed on a bet. I heard him warn one guy that, at this casino, gambling money you didn't have wouldn't get you a little ahead. It would get you "a little head.”

The woman who had thrown the thong, a buxom blonde who had about five pounds to go before another adjective would be required, snatched her property off the floor and gave Marlowe an evil look. She stood by the stage and flapped the tiny piece of lace like it was a handkerchief, but Elvis' eyes were far too glazed to notice. His face was the color of mildewed grout and his jet-black toupee had slid to the right, exposing a line of greenish white flesh over his left ear. Fortunately, he'd segued into "Love Me Tender," which didn't require so many gyrations. Maybe the toupee would last the night after all.