“Maybe. She told me she wants into Ordinary.”
“Why?”
“Well, since I’m such an amazing detective, here’s my guess: I’m the Bridge, and as you may not know, demons don’t get into Ordinary without signing contracts and getting my okay first.”
“Boo. Okay, I deserved that. Did she tell you why she wants in?”
“Vacation time. Don’t give me that look, that’s what she said. Also, she’d love to eat it whole, which I’m pretty sure is impossible, even for a demon.”
“Eat Ordinary?”
I nodded.
“You told her no, right?”
“Do you see a dotted line with her signature on it?”
“Good.”
Myra had history with Bathin’s mother. None of it good.
I started toward the private elevator. “Let’s see if they’ll give us a look at the security footage. Make sure whatever happened here isn’t something supernatural we need to take care of.”
I got about three steps before Myra grabbed my elbow and hurried us off toward the slot machines.
“Problem?” I asked.
“Maybe.”
“Family gift?”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “We need to move.”
“I’m with you.”
She let go, and we navigated the crowd, shoulder to shoulder. Neither of us were in uniform, but people saw us coming and made space.
Myra stopped next to an empty machine, tipped her head, then took a left. I moved with her.
A woman screamed. We bolted toward the sound, boots thudding across brightly colored industrial carpeting.
Then a cheer rose up, whistles, applause, and the happyding-ding-dingof bells.
The woman was laughing now, and someone who might be her daughter held a phone, taking selfies of the two of them in front of a machine that was paying out big.
“Okay,” I said slowly, scanning the scene then looking at Myra for confirmation. “This is the reason we hurried?”
She scowled and tipped her head again as if she were trying to tune into a distant conversation.
“Yes!” shouted a man two machines down. A murmur of surprise and applause filled the space as his machineding-ding-dingedand rolled out the win. He pushed away from the machine to do a little victory dance and that’s when I spotted Xtelle.
She stood in front of the machine. One of her hooves was stuck all the way inside the casing, manipulating the guts of the thing.
“Stop it,” I warned, quiet enough I hoped people assumed I was talking to Myra. “Knock it off.”
“I’m sorry,” Xtelle cooed. “Are you paying attention to me now?” She withdrew her hoof and barreled around three machines, found the one she wanted and wedged herself between the woman on the stool and the machine. She stared at me over those stupid sunglasses.“Don’t,” I warned.
She stuck her hoof in the cabinet.
