“It’s meant for one thing,” you cautioned, still referring to the blade.
“Understood.” I didn’t like to think about having to use it. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.
I then demonstrated some of my fencing techniques to strike, parry, and riposte with the short blade, and you showed me the best places to incapacitate an attacker.
“You do whatever it takes. Gouge out their eyes with your fingernails, rip out their throat with your teeth, slice them with your blade, but remember the goal is always to get away.”
You then fitted me with a leather shoulder harness, which would conceal my new blade under most of my clothing. I wasn’t supposed to leave our hotel room without it.
And then it was time to make our first appearance on the Strip. You’d had our suits shipped to the hotel. It took me a while to primp, which meant you spent most of that time watching me and groaning. At one point you came up behind me in the mirror and fixed the back of my collar. I shivered from that small attention. Instant boner.
Then I noticed you’d barely even combed your hair.
“Henri, come here.” I undid the rubber band at the nape of your neck and worked a wet comb through your mane to tame it, then carefully retied it in a low ponytail. Then I decided your beard needed shaping and a few swipes with a razor around the edges to better define it.
“There.” I presented you to the mirror. You angled your head from side to side, admiring my work.
“Am I presentable enough now to escort you for the evening?”
“Definitely. I’d totally blow you right now.” I’d blurted it out, but I really wanted to give it a try. Drop down on my knees and demonstrate my cuke-sucking abilities. Maybe cut you a little bit. All I wanted was a couple of hours with free rein over your body to do whatever pervy thing I could imagine. It was probably why you were tied up in so many of my fantasies, so that you couldn’t get away.
Your nostrils flared at my offer. “As enticing as that sounds, perhaps we should go before we end up needing to have these suits dry-cleaned?”
I growled my dissent, and you steered me toward the door.
We went to MGM Grand because I’d seen enough movies set in Las Vegas that I wanted to check it out for myself. The casino was huge. There was so much gold and blinking lights and shiny objects. Like Disney for grown-ups where everything is a gaudy, over-the-top replica of the real thing. It was late already, but the buildings in Las Vegas were windowless, so it was easy to lose track of time.
Inside the casino were rows and rows of slot machines with people lined up in front of them, eyes glued to the screens. They were so zoned-out, I’d bet I could bite one of them without much fuss at all.
There were fewer people at the tables. You took me to the bar first, all the while scouting our surroundings. Your safehouse had provided us with fake ID’s which meant I could drink, so I ordered some sweet concoction called a Pink Lady that you said tasted like Penicillin. I’d never had antibiotics before, but it tasted delicious.
“Take a tour of the tables,” you said. “See if you can get a read on the crowd. If you notice someone with malevolent energy, identify them for me. And if you spot Seneser, say the codeword.”
The codeword was Pikachu, the first thing I’d thought of because I was a ten-year-old. There was a hidden mic in my lapel and a tiny, unnoticeable hearing aid in my ear to help us communicate. I was drawn to the craps table first, probably because those players were the most fired up. I didn’t understand the rules of the game, so I couldn’t say for sure who was winning. I wasn’t an expert in sensing demonic energy, but they seemed like normal, uninhabited humans to me.
I scanned the roulette games next. None of the players stood out to me as especially demonic, nor did any of them resemble Seneser’s human host. I was just checking out the blackjack tables when a man approached me. Brown hair, brown eyes, late twenties. He wasn’t unattractive, but there was nothing particularly striking about him either. He didn’tseemto have bad intentions, but there was still something off about him.
“Do you play?” he asked. His voice sounded wooden. Like an actor being fed a line.
“A little poker,” I said. “But it’s been awhile. You?”
“I mostly come for the view.” He smiled intently, and I got the impression he was trying to flirt with me. But the delivery was wrong, like he’d been coached.
“Tell him you’re going to play a hand and invite him to watch,” you instructed. I did as you asked. I had a moment of panic because I hadn’t figured out the tables just yet. I saw one that looked like Texas Hold ’em and sat down. The man, who introduced himself as Mason, followed me there, then stood at my side with his drink in his hand as though posing for a portrait.
You’d gotten poker chips for me earlier in the night, and I figured there was no reason to hold back now, so I lined them up. Luckily, it was a beginners’ table where the bets were modest. I lost a few hands and then, once I was able to read the energy of the players, I started winning. Your voice buzzed in my ear.
“Invite him for a drink.”
I groaned aloud. I’d somehow forgotten we were on a mission. “But I’m winning,” I said lowly, so no one else at the table would hear.
“Vincent,” you said in the no-nonsense voice I wished you’d use in bed.
“Yes, sir,” I purred to show you I could be good.
Mason’s eyebrows lifted at my renewed attention. Like he was waiting for his next instruction. Weird.
“Want to get a drink?” I asked.
