My brain was a buzz of panic, and my skin stuck to the leather upholstery. I shifted and squirmed, making the fabric creak until Maslow snapped his fingers at me like he had at Darby.
“Settle down,” he grunted. “We’re almost there.”
It was early, and the Strip was filling with tourists. Trapped in the vehicle and desperate for a distraction, I looked at the sights as we passed them, recognizing many from my walking tour with Beck. I hoped to spot the street magician again, but while I was searching for him, the car veered out of the line of traffic and stopped.
Maslow’s door opened and shut as I scanned the side of the street we’d parked on. Ahead on the right, jets of water plumed up in staggering, misty sprays. Maslow tugged my door open, and I poked my head out to look around.
It wasn’t a street corner, which would have come as a relief if I hadn’t had an entirely new cause for concern. The building we had stopped beside was the same one Beck pointed out to me. The casino owned by angels.
Antonella Rossetti.
Running me out on a rail.
Beck said there was a dividing line down the middle of Las Vegas Boulevard, and I was on the wrong side of it.
“We shouldn’t be here,” I whispered as Maslow’s offered hand seized me in agrab.
I was hauled from the car into the midday glare, where I swayed while taking in the spectacle before me. The name I hadn’t known before was spelled out in an arch above the entrance.
The Basilica. Golden wings flanked the words.
It didn’t look ominous. Quite the opposite. It was white, grand, and glorious, with massive panes of glass that sparkled in the sunlight. When I compared it to the structures on the opposite side of the street, I immediately noticed the disparity. Good versus evil. Light versus dark.
I didn’t belong here, but part of me wanted to.
Maslow kept hold of my hand, his grip tight but slick with sweat. He passed the driver a few folded bills, then led me toward the alabaster steps into the building.
“We shouldn’t be here,” I repeated, this time so the wraith could hear.
“Nonsense.” Maslow scoffed. “I’m an honored guest in this place, and you’re just the accessory I needed to complete this look.”
He gestured to his suit, accented with a pocket square made of the same gauzy material as my pants. His shirt was red to match my hair, and gold chains tasseled off the shoulders of his jacket. When he squeezed my hand, the gem-studded rings that bedecked his chubby fingers grated against my knuckles.
We reached the landing, and Maslow pulled me in to hiss in my ear. “Smile, sweetheart. The people wanna see you pretty.”
“What people?”
All the people. Every one of them. Because the casino was packed.
The hotel check-in desk lined one wall, cluttered with guests arriving and departing. Bellhops zipped past pushinggolden luggage carts, and tourists loitered in clumps, necks craned to take in the domed ceiling adorned with shimmering frescoes. Cameras flashed. Waiters ferried trays of champagne. Laughter bounced off the walls.
I smiled because I’d been told to.
Because I had to.
As anxious as I’d been at the Crowndell about getting separated from the group, now I found myself wishing for a little distance from Maslow. If he lost track of me… maybe I could wander. But where would I go?
Half naked, with only the vaguest sense of direction, I’d get lost in no time. Maybe I’d stumble into the care of someone kinder than the wraith—but there were worse things than Maslow in the world. I could just as easily fall prey to a bigger, hungrier predator.
So, I let Maslow lead me, tagging along as closely as if I were on a leash.
Conditioned air swept across my bare chest and cut through the sheer material of my pants, raising goosebumps everywhere it touched. My footsteps were cushioned by the velvet carpet that stretched across the tile like rivers of spilled wine.
On the gaming floor, dealers wearing crisp white button-downs worked card tables. Overhead, a chandelier dripped crystals like teardrops, and the soft strains of a string quartet piped in over hidden speakers.
Maslow and I moved with a sense of purpose, weaving through the crowd that suddenly parted. The path was not made for us, but for the tall male figure about twenty feet away.
The moment I saw him, everything else dropped out of focus.
