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“Like what?”
“I don’t know, let me think.” She popped her forkful into her mouth.
As we ate, the kitchen filled with the soft hum of the coffee maker, the clinking of cutlery, and the occasional contented sigh. It was a small, perfect moment, something I wished wasn’t marred by the turmoil of living a life bound to Ivan.
Chapter Five: Neon Knuckles
Maverick
Glittering lights bathed thenight in a kaleidoscope of neon colors, making it almost as bright as day. Excited mortals roamed the streets in their gaudiest outfits, sequins shimmering and fabrics glowing under the vibrant signs. I high-fived as many of them as I could and might have knocked a few huge cups of beer or cocktails out of their hands. It was an accident, I swear. Laughter and chatter filled the air, and the scent of street food mingled with the occasional waft of expensive cologne. Las Vegas was always my favorite city. I spun in place, like Julie Andrews inThe Sound of Musicbecause I always found this city electrifying, intoxicating, and irresistible.
A pity my friends would only join me occasionally.
Lux and Stone had been my companions on the mortal plane for centuries now. We were more like brothers than friends, what was calledBloodswornin the seraphim sector of Hell, where we came from.
Where we escaped from when bad became worse.
Of course, the Seraphim Guard wouldn’t allow us to live here. According to them, seraphim belong in the seraphim sector, and they’d been hunting us ever since we arrived.
So we were supposed to be keeping a low profile–whatever that meant. I never agreed to it anyway. For hundreds of years, we’d evaded them, and I had no doubt we’d continue to do so for eternity.
Top tip: with a smile and a shrug, you can avoid almost any argument. Fist-fighting with my brothers could be fun sometimes, but then we all had to go into stasis for a while to recover. We were immortal, not impervious. Better to get along as much as possible. There were plenty of mortals and supers in the world to fight with that wouldn’t tax me as much.
“So, where are we headed tonight?” Stone was dressed in his usual pressed jeans and henley. With his neatly trimmed hair, his appearance resembled a clean-cut FBI agent, which hid his darkness well. No one would guess that he was the most ruthless of us three.
“Take a wild guess… Give up? Blackbeard’s.” I jerked my chin forward in the direction of the pirate-themed casino I’d always enjoyed. They didn’t have a clue what real pirates were like, but it didn’t matter to me. I got a kick out of the absurdity of the place.
“That place again?” said Lux. “What about Cirque?” He wore a black suit with a T-shirt underneath. With his dark hair and sunglasses, he played the part of an Italian businessman well.
All the women, from way too young to way too old, watched as we passed them. They always did. I shrugged and headed in the direction of the Pirate’s Cove anyway.
The doors of the casino slid open to reveal a sensory feast and I took a great big breath, reveling in the spectacle of it all. The air smelled of money and the faint scent of cologne from the well-dressed patrons. The quiet hum of conversation and the rhythmic clinking of chips created a hypnotic background score. Flashing lights from the slot machines and the bright, swirling patterns of the carpet dazzled the eyes, making everything feel surreal and larger than life. I loved this place.
Knowing my friends would follow, I strolled to the bar, where a bartender with a slicked-back ponytail and a crisp white shirt took our order and promptly handed us our drinks. Stone scoffed at my cocktail, a vibrant blue garnished with a twist of citrus, but I squealed, beamed at him, and took a sip through the straw anyway. He scowled, but I wasn’t paying attention to him because the first sip was a cool, refreshing rush, a perfect antidote to the hot desert air outside. Lux and Stone both took a sip of their boring bottles of domestic beer like boring mortal men.
I made a snoring noise at them, but they ignored me.
Drink in hand, I skipped to a blackjack table and sat down. The smooth green felt purred against my fingers as I adjusted my chips, the coolness of the stack reassuring in my palm. Blackjack was my game, and tonight, the possibilities were endless. The dealer, a middle-aged man with a friendly smile and quick hands, shuffled the cards with a practiced flourish, the sound of the cards riffing together sharply, building the anticipation in my chest.
While the casino was alive with the hum of voices and the clatter of chips, the most important sounds to me were the heartbeats of the players around the table. No one would ever know by my behavior that I was paying attention to anything, but each beat revealed a story.
A pulse of anxiety, excitement, or confidence.
I laughed maniacally under my breath and placed my bet.
The dealer shuffled the deck and began to deal the cards. They glided across the table, landing in front of each player with a soft whisper. My first card was a King, the second an Ace—a blackjack. I kept my expressions as varied and unpredictable as possible and glanced around the table, sensing the others.
To my left, a nervous young man glanced repeatedly at his cards. His heartbeat was quick, almost frantic, betraying his inexperience. He was already on to his next move, his mind racing ahead. He’d likely hit, unable to resist the allure of getting closer to twenty-one.
Next to him, an older woman appeared calm on the outside, but her heart beat like a steady drum of determination. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, and I knew she’d hit or split.
To my right, a middle-aged man with a slight tremor checked his hand. His heart beat steadily but with an underlying tension, the kind that comes from someone familiar with the game but wary of risk. He would play it safe, likely hitting once, maybe twice, but not pushing too far.
The dealer’s heartbeat was slow and measured, unfazed. He’d seen it all before.
The young man to my left decided to hit. The dealer dealt him a card. His heart skipped a beat and dropped. He’d busted, a look of dismay crossing his face.
The older woman, as expected, split her hand. She hit the first new card, and her heart pounded louder. For her second hand, the beat of her heart steadied as she settled into a decision to stand.
