Chapter 21
Turned out Jessell was not as hard to find as one might expect after losing her for a thousand years. All it took was a quick Google search to find a “Just Jessell” show in Vegas, where she made millions peddling her seer tricks to humans who wanted a glimpse of their future.
“That’s her,” Cronus said, sounding surprised that it had been as easy as that. “Guess we’re taking a trip to this Las Vegas place.”
A chuckle bubbled from me. This was going to be fun.
Ten minutes later, we stood on the strip watching the hundreds of people stream past us, half of them carrying slushy drinks as they stumbled along.
“Looks like she adapted pretty well to the times,” I said dryly, letting Cronus have a moment to take in all the lights and crazy that was Vegas. “Not at all hiding her powers.”
Cronus shook his head. “It’s surprising she hasn’t been stopped yet. We aren’t supposed to advertise our existence to humans. We should always be revered as gods, a step above them. Any contact could lessen this.”
“Humans aren’t the same creatures now that they were a thousand years ago,” I told him. “They’re less about gods and religion and more about technology and reality. A lot don’t believe anymore. Maybe this was Jessell’s way of keeping herself powerful.” Not that I knew exactly how Titans, gods, or seers got their power, but I knew for sure some of it was to do with worship and human emotions. That just made sense.
“Seers thrive on emotion,” Cronus said, like he’d read my thoughts.
I laughed. “Then there’s no better place for her to be than Vegas. This is one happening place, always filled with people, and a glitz and glamour that hides a seedy underbelly.” My eyes swept across the scene again.
Cronus was getting a lot of looks as we stood there. Partially because we were still covered in dirt and grime from Egypt, but mostly he was over six-and-a-half-feet of gorgeous Titan, and Vegas was the place to find a rando and spend one night of pleasure with them.
Hopefully waking up unmarried.
“We should move before I have to start fighting the women off,” I said, rolling my eyes as I marched along. “We need a room and clothes for tonight. Her show is popular and likely sold out, so I think we need to splurge on a penthouse and hope the concierge can hook us up with some tickets.”
Cronus had no idea what I was talking about, but he didn’t argue and I was glad. I knew how this shit worked in these places. It was the smaller, condensed version of Instagram. Flashing money and faking everything. Including orgasms.
Not that I’d ever done that.#Cough #Lies #CoughCoughBesides I’d never stayed in a penthouse before and I’d probably not have the chance again without Mr. Gold Dick Bars here.
I’d been to Vegas only once with a friend from work who’d been supposed to get married, but then her fiancé ran off with their florist. Their male florist. She’d brought me out instead and we’d spent most of the trip drunk and window shopping. I’d vowed to make it back again soon, but I’d never expected it would be under these circumstances.
We passed a small white chapel, and Cronus stared at the lineup of couples out the front, some of them swaying on the spot, others bouncing excitedly as they waited their turn.
“They’re getting married…?” He seemed confused. “On the street?”
I laughed. “Yeah, people get married here all the time. Often by Elvis.”
He probably had no idea who Elvis was, and with a shake of his head turned back to the street. Most people got out of his way, and mine too, as a thankful side effect of standing in his shadow.
“We should stay here,” I said, pointing to a huge, luxurious hotel. Last time I’d been here it had been the fanciest on the Strip, but I knew a lot of new resorts had sprung up since then. Either way, this would do.
“Got any of those gold dick bars left?” I asked Cronus.
The smallest of smiles played at the corner of his lips. “Yes.”
“Great!”
If there was one place in the world we could cash a gold bar pulled from his pants, it was Vegas.
Thirty minuteslater and forty thousand dollars richer, we were back at the hotel, and now in possession of a penthouse for the night. The VIP concierge who personally cared for our suite was more than happy to find us tickets to Jessell’s sold-out show.
For some monetary compensation of course.
“What about backstage passes or private shows?” I pressed. “Does Jessell ever make an exception for … a higher price?”
I needed him to say yes; otherwise my Titan was going to cause a scene that evacuated the entire building, all so he could get his hands on this seer who had betrayed him and sent him into a dank gray prison for a thousand years.
“I’m not sure,” the concierge squeaked, looking flustered. His slicked-back brown hair almost had a strand come loose in his agitation. “I’ll find out and get back to you asap.”
