Hit, Stand, or Split Who: Rhiannon/Noah What: Games of Chance Where: Dante's Casino, Las Vegas When: Night of Jan. 25th Ratings/Warnings: Language, Violence, Fire
The card dealer for one of the many blackjack tables at Dante’s Casino was very good at his job. He added a sleight-of-hand flare that drew people in droves, and his seats were often full. Tonight, however, there was one open seat left. Of the four gamblers present, one sat still and quiet; a woman with tall hair and a permanent scent of hairspray on one side of him, an empty chair on the other. His face remained completely neutral as he watched the display with indifference. Noah wasn’t there to turn a pile of chips into a nest egg.
He had put down a 100 dollar chip. It was easy to disconnect the round pieces of plastic from real currency, easy to get swept up in the idea that one hand of cards could change someone’s life for the better. The pyrokinetic was more fascinated by that. The unhappy people left in the dissolved fantasy’s wake made up most of his income, after all. However, he was supposed to be watching the dealer. The glamour and mystique was somewhat ruined by knowing the man was a vampire with gifted reflexes and quick hands.
A glass of vodka and ice sweated in Noah’s hand as he was dealt a three and a seven. “Hit me.”
The empty seat to Noah’s side didn’t budge as Rhiannon slipped quietly into it. She kept her eyes on the cards while she settled herself. A cold bottle of beer drifted towards her mouth as she watched the woman with the Texan-sized hair ask for an additional card, while the other gambler chose to stay. When there was an opportunity to join, she put down a chip and waited for a pair of cards. Rhiannon loved games of chance. Under pressure, many hunters would admit that they liked to gamble. The money didn’t always matter, but the uncertainty of it was a rush. So while she was more likely to be found playing cards in a dive than a casino, she was capable of looking the part, which was important if she wanted to slide under the radar of a vampire she’d gotten a tip about, one with a healthy appetite.
Play well, but not too well. Be pretty, but not distracting. Don’t bump your weapon on the back of the chair.
“Hey friend.” The greeting was low enough to go unnoticed, unless Noah was paying attention.
Noah watched as a Jack of hearts was placed next to his three and seven. He stood, and ended up losing the hand to the dealer’s 19. His chip was whisked away and he put down another one as he noticed the words spoken on his right. Knowing that whatever they said, the vampire could hear, as well, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but didn’t turn. “Hey,” he said, carefully keeping the note of surprise out of his voice at seeing Rhiannon there. “Come to watch me lose?”
The truth was, he didn’t care if he won or lost. The chips were provided through the man who had hired him. The pyrokinetic watched as he was dealt a new hand, then glanced curiously at the hunter’s cards.
Rhiannon smiled to herself. “False modesty. That’s new.” She requested another card, bringing her total up to sixteen.
It had been a few weeks since the last time she saw Noah, which was across a room during a doomed fundraiser. That time, the only thing on her mind had been whether or not he would set the carpet on fire for fun. Cian was next to her, and she felt, maybe, the slightest tinge of relief when they lost Noah in the chaos, because those were two people she didn’t want in a conversation with her in the middle of it.
“Maybe this time the power won’t go off.” Rhiannon set her beer in the cupholder.
“We can only hope.” Noah made brief eye contact with the blackjack dealer before finally turning to face her. “You’re not going to lie and say you were especially enjoying that party, are you?” With a slight smirk, he brought his glass to his lips and took a long, bracing sip of vodka before leaning in. “Ask for another card.” He was pretty sure there was a four or five lingering in the deck waiting to be put down. He watched the vampire, knowing he could hear the pyrokinetic perfectly.
The unrequested help gave Rhiannon pause. She didn’t look at Noah or the card dealer, just took in the dynamic at the table. “Hit me.” When the dealer shifted his attention to put another card down, she gave him a quick flick of her eyes, trying to gauge his level of irritation when the four landed. “As for the party, there was nowhere to go but up. I did get tickets to Overeem versus Volkov.”
“My money’s on Volkov,” said one of the other gamblers. Judging by his cards and dwindling stack of chips, Rhiannon thought he might want to hang onto his money.
Noah checked his watch. About fifteen minutes until the dealer’s shift ended. Which meant less than fifteen minutes to get the attention of the pit boss and get ejected from the casino. There was a car idling two blocks away, waiting for the pyrokinetic’s signal. “Volkov is Russian, isn’t he?” he asked, his tone bored and lazy as he put down yet another 100 dollars. He had lost every hand so far. “I learned many, many years ago to never underestimate a Russian.” He gave the down-on-his-luck gambler a shark-ish smile before adding, “You keep standing on a soft 16. Stop it. Be bold.”
To illustrate a point, he plunked one of his chips into the other gambler’s small pile and once again made pointed eye contact with the vampire. Noah wanted to get him angry.
“Mm,” Rhiannon smiled, keeping it loose. “Never trust a man who gives away his money in a casino.” She cast her eyebrows at the gambler. “Ignore him, and one of those tickets has your name on it.” She didn’t have a clue what Noah’s end game was, only that he had one, and it involved a timeline and irritating the piss out of a pulseless dealer. So now her end game was to irritate Noah, at least until the end of this vampire’s shift. The brunette took a long swallow of her beer. The big-haired woman was forgotten in all of this and that was okay, as she seemed most capable of gawking.
Noah stared straight ahead to some point off in the distance, falling silent. The guy craned his neck around the lady’s bouffant, eyes trained on Rhiannon as he asked, “Like, on a date with you?” in an obviously excited tone. The pyrokinetic employed a Herculean internal strength to not let himself fall face forward on the table in frustration. The seconds ticked by on his watch, and he could swear he heard each tick despite the noise of the casino.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Noah asked the hunter. “Is this how you do it? Slowly and painfully.” He tipped the remainder of the vodka down his throat.
“I thought that’s how you liked it,” she murmured. Then, Rhiannon spoke more clearly to the man at the end, lying through her teeth with a smile. “Yes, a date! I’m not going alone. You wouldn’t believe what a fight does for my libido.” She flipped the weight of her hair past her bare shoulder and waited to see what he’d do. One never could tell with a gambling addict and for all she knew, he went to meetings. Noah’s tension was radiating off him in secret, little waves and it was a balm to her soul. She looked up through her lashes at the vampire.
The man took the chip that had been thrown at him and returned it to the pyrokinetic’s pile. “Done.” His grin was disgusting, and Noah gave him a look of open disdain that was completely ignored. Another time check. Nine minutes.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, then stood up and grabbed the cards from the dealer’s pile and tossed them onto the table. Kings and queens scattered everywhere, and a jack even landed in Noah’s abandoned glass. The vampire flashed a brief but toothy grin and made a hand motion in the air. Moments later, two large security guards in blazers and ties appeared, walkie talkies staticy with distorted voices as one grabbed Noah by the arm. Before he got pulled away, he impulsively leaned down to whisper near Rhiannon’s ear. “This is how he gets dinner.” The pyrokinetic was led away toward an exit that required a security code to pass through without an alarm blaring.
A chorus of, “Hey!” and “Asshole!” rang out as the game was sabotaged. Rhiannon sat back and watched Noah get hauled off. ‘Shit.’ They had the same target. Normally it wouldn’t be such a bad thing, letting Noah turn a vampire into a crispy critter. Maybe she’d roast a marshmallow over the corpse, except that this vampire was marked for something else. Plus, there was a possibility Noah might kill the guards, too. As the face card situation was being remarked on by the players, Rhiannon scooted by her suitor innocuously. “Ladies’ room. Wait for me?”
Nobody was looking.
She moved fast to catch up to them, turned sideways and skirted through the door before it closed. Once they were off the casino’s plush carpeting, she walked quietly on the soles of her shoes, following the three of them down a long, echoing hallway with a brushed concrete floor and white walls. The first door they passed was an exit to the parking deck. The second was open, its interior dark. It was an unoccupied performer’s green room, furnished with comfortable couches, a coffee table, lamps, and a wet bar. At the far end of the corridor, Rhiannon could hear the sounds of a catering cart.
The guards stopped and keyed into another dark room.
Rhiannon caught the lever handle with her fingertips.
Noah was hauled into a room and tried to take in his surroundings in the semi-darkness. He turned around to face the guards. He realized belatedly that the walkie talkies had been silenced. “Is this the part where you tell me to never come back here again, or else?” he asked, amused. Inwardly, he was choosing which one to kill first. Probably the one who had maintained an unnecessarily vise-like grip on his bicep.
A laugh and knowing look was exchanged between employees as the pyrokinetic kept one hand behind his back, ready to start a fire.
The door clicked shut behind Rhiannon. In the shadows, she tapped Thing One on the right shoulder and waited for him to turn her way. A sharp kick to the testicles doubled him over groaning. She put her hands on either side of his head and drove it into her knee. That half-gross, half-satisfying crunch was the bridge of his nose breaking. He was unconscious before he hit the carpet, a stream of blood and snot leaking out of both nostrils.
Rhiannon looked at Noah in the dark. “Why is the muscle always so stupid?”
The click of the door shutting registered in one part of his brain before another part could physically react. His hands dropped to his sides, and Noah watched as Rhiannon took down the guard with a practiced ease that would have been impressive if it also weren’t annoying.
The second guard was even slower, blinking at the hunter in confusion. The pyrokinetic raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to take care of this one for me, too?” Even in the dark, he could see the man pull out a telescoping baton.
Behind his back, Noah had conjured a flame, the base of it glowing blue. “Or I can do it my way.”
For him? Get real.
Rhiannon pointed at Noah. “He’s got a gun!”
For a split second, Thing Two didn’t know where to look. In that moment, Rhiannon pulled her own weapon. It was black, polished smooth like glass, but too hard to ever break by ordinary means. The hilt had been forged of reptilian tails that tangled together and became whole, and it fit into her palm as if it had been designed for it. There wasn’t a visible blade. When the guard made a decision and swung his baton at her, Rhiannon blocked it with the end of her weapon, which emitted the smallest green spark of light. “Oh, don’t piss it off.”
The impact sent pain ringing up the man’s arm. He dropped his nightstick. Rhiannon whipped her weapon across his jaw and he tripped back towards Noah, a couple hundred pounds of bulk coming in hot. She could almost see the birds circling around his head.
Noah saw the falling man coming toward him, but there wasn’t much he could do to keep from tumbling down with him underneath all that dead weight. He met the floor with a thud and muttered curses in a foreign language. The pyrokinetic was attempting to roll out from under when he paused, the sound of the lock disengaging and the undead blackjack dealer entering the room.
Vampiric eyes took in the sight of his guards on the ground, along with his dinner, and up to Rhiannon. With a heave of effort and use of his feet, Noah was able to pry himself loose. “Insert record scratch sound effect,” the pyrokinetic remarked to the hunter.
Never before had she wished she bilingual that badly. The laugh melted off Rhiannon’s face when the door opened. “Aww. Your timing sucks.”
She kicked the dealer in the chest. The impact didn’t do much damage, but it did push him into the door, which slammed shut and left the three of them in the near-dark again. Rhiannon got a better grip on her weapon. “Okay, Noah. Why should you get to take him out?”
“I wasn’t going to, yet.” Noah brushed off his shirt and pulled out his phone, the text message already keyed in and ready to send. “He knows something that I’ve been tasked with finding out, and I figured torture would do it.” With his free hand, he pulled a sharply honed wooden stake from his inner jacket pocket.
“I don’t typically use these, but…” The pyrokinetic paused as the vampire got back onto his feet, the electronic blue light from his phone illuminating bared fangs. “What do you want him for? Just a kill?”
Rhiannon shook her head. “I wouldn’t say that.” Next to her thigh, a blade of ghostly light and swirling shadow began to form at the end of her weapon. It was somehow blacker than anything around it, but jade at the edges, the color seeming to flicker like fire: One miniature inferno to mimic the vast one that awaited him. “I’ve been dying to try this thing. He seems like a prime candidate.” That flash of teeth… Rhiannon wasn’t a fan of torture, but sometimes she’d get a vivid image of prying open a vampire’s mouth and ripping every tooth out with a set of pliers, from molars to incisors, just for the sake of completeness.
The phone was forgotten as Noah’s eye was caught by the weapon. It seemed to give the vampire pause, as well. He was drawn to the colorful little flame, a familiarity that seemed to pulse from it. “What is that?” And then, a note of hope in his voice despite being certain the hunter would say no, “Can I buy it from you?”
The blackjack dealer seemed to lose his patience and decided that the pyrokinetic was an easier target. He struck out with a quick hand, Noah reaching up in time to grab his arm with both of his, conjuring twin fires between his fingers that made the undead creature hiss in pain, the smell of burning flesh filling the small room as he pulled away and lunged for Rhiannon instead.
“Wait, I need to know where Winter is,” Noah told the hunter in case she was about to dispatch the bloodsucker. He scrambled to pull out a photo, a glossy 5 x 7 school photo they hand out to parents. It showed a smiling girl, late teens and wearing a glitzy formal dress, and held it up.
Rhiannon avoided hitting the dealer with the weapon, instead engaging in a little one-handed combat with the vampire, stepping back, deflecting, elbowing him in the face, catching one on the corner of her mouth, until she managed to get his head in the crook of her arm. She tightened it until it was within a pound’s pressure of snapping. For all the guy’s flare with a deck of cards, he was no great pugilist. No wonder he had people serve him free meals on a platter.
“Answer or I’ll let my friend roast you from your heels to your hairline. Sound fun?” Rhiannon’s weapon stayed out of sight.
The vampire struggled until he realized doing so could provide enough friction to get his neck snapped. He looked up at the picture, then down at that strange, eerie weapon in the hunter’s other hand. “Not one of mine,” he ground out between sharp teeth. His hand crept down to his pants pocket, slowly, his voice rising in an attempt to distract them both. “But I recognize her. She was here with some friends, one of the bartenders realized her ID was a fake, and she got booted.”
The blackjack dealer’s fingers closed around a folding knife. “I know she wasn’t taken here. They would know where she went.” His gaze dropped to the unconscious guards.
Noah sighed, rolling his neck in weary annoyance as he put the photograph back. “It’s not as much fun with humans.” He nodded to Rhiannon. “His hand’s in his pocket.”
His pants pocket? Rhiannon scowled and looked down. “Oh thank god. It’s just a knife.” She dropped him and slashed with the dagger. That ethereal blade that looked somehow both solid and not-quite-there sliced through flesh, tendon, and bone the way a chef’s knife cut through tender-cooked meat. The vampire went up in a bright flash of green fire, the first immolation for an underworld bride. The corpse landed on its hands and knees screaming, then collapsed and disappeared, leaving an acrid scent and a cloud that swirled on an unseen current. Rhiannon held up the weapon to look at it. The blade was as quiet as a candle flickering around a wick. For some reason, she had the impression that it was pleased. “It’s not for sale.”
Noah watched, openly enthralled as the otherworldly weapon did its work. It was beautiful. His brow furrowed when she told him it wasn’t for sale, and there was an annoying burn of jealousy as he picked up his phone and texted his hired help that they would need to be transporting two bodies instead of one. “That’s a shame,” he told her. The pyrokinetic looked down at the unconscious guards, rolling one’s heavily muscled arm with his shoe.
“You wouldn’t by any chance want to help me get these guys out back, would you?” he asked, cocking his head and flashing the hunter a smile. “It’s to help find a missing girl, after all.”
“Not if you’re going to kill them. They’re human, after all.” Rhiannon put the weapon away and bent over the nearest guard, the one who came at her with a baton. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “One broken bone and they’ll fold like deck chairs. You don’t even need both of them. This one ought to do the trick.” Now that she was leaning over, blood rushed into her face and reminded her that her mouth was throbbing. It was swollen, at the least.
“I don’t understand,” Noah commented, watching her hover over the unconscious guard. He plucked up the baton from the floor, examined it briefly before using the end to poke him in the face. “What’s the difference between killing a vampire and killing a human?” He knelt down, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.
With his free hand, he ticked each statement off on his fingers. “They’re both sentient. They have feelings, I think. Both are capable of evil.” The pyrokinetic glanced up at Rhiannon. “I’m being honest. I don’t see the distinction.”
Rhiannon straightened up. “I’ve got no problems with a vampire on a strict diet, or a were who keeps its teeth to itself. It’s the other kind I can’t stand. But I can’t exactly call the cops on one who’s ripping out throats every night, can I? Not like I can with a living, breathing piece of trash.” She wiped at her lip. The fingertip was red, but more makeup than blood. “My thing with Katherine’s an anomaly. We took a few jobs together. She’ll never admit it, but she does a decent job of balancing the scales.” So what if her motivation was money and not saving lives?
The guard was beginning to stir, though his eyes remained closed. Noah gave her a smirk. “So, if somehow law enforcement could make a supermax for weres and vamps and the like, you would retire? Put 911 on speed dial? Or would you apply to be a cop?” The man’s eyelids fluttered open and the pyrokinetic got back to his feet, baton held aloft.
“I was kept in a facility for, what was it...eight years, give or take, before I got out.” With his free hand, Noah pulled out the photograph. “They taught me everything I know.” He shoved the picture in the man’s face. “Where is this girl?”
Rhiannon shook her head at the hypocrisy of a self-professed psychopath wanting to debate the value of life and the potential for feelings. “Even a shitty prison’s better than death,” she murmured, backing off to let Noah ask his question. If there was the slightest chance a vampire or a were could be reformed in a ‘supermax for supes’, then sure. Why the hell not? But if it was anything like the American criminal justice system, or sci-fi film tropes, ‘reform’ would be the least likely outcome.
“I think he’s bored. This isn’t the time to get cute,” Rhiannon told the guard.
He turned his head, wincing and groaning, a nasty bruise blooming on the side of his face. “I see a lot of people,” he told Noah. “She looks like a thousand other girls who come through here. It’s Vegas.” The guard reached up and gingerly touched his jaw. His eyes were on the baton.
Noah sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re going to make me say something stupid and cliche like, ‘maybe this will jog your memory’, aren’t you?” He turned to look up at Rhiannon. “I hate that.” He stood up and swung the tip of the metal rod so that it connected hard with the guard’s kneecap.
“If you don’t remember, you’re useless to me. You don’t want to be useless.”
“We took her here,” the man gasped out between pained noises. “Before our boss could come, she told us who she was. Rich family. Connected. He didn’t like to feed on people like her, too much trouble.” His eyes screwed shut as waves of pain reverberated up his leg. Tears were welling up around his eyelids. “We escorted her to the parking deck. A black SUV was waiting for her, tinted windows. That’s all I know.”
Noah folded the baton back up and glanced at the hunter. “Her parents never saw or heard from her again after that night.” He frowned, annoyed and confused. “It doesn’t make sense.”
That story was a little light on details. “Next you’ll tell us there’s no cameras on that side of the parking deck.” Rhiannon was standing nearby, arms crossed. “Did you let Winter use a phone to call a car or was it just waiting? What was her demeanor like when she got in?”
The pyrokinetic’s mouth was open, about to ask the same questions when Rhiannon beat him to it. There was a part of him that kind of enjoyed the bad cop/less bad cop vibe. The guard’s breathing was shallow and rapid, and he brought his knee up closer to his chest instinctively, though it only made the pain worse. “Our security footage is manipulated. The casino uses a sorcerer. It’ll just look like we asked her to leave.”
“Huh.” That was news to Noah. “Clever.” He put the tip of the baton between his fingers. After a moment, it began to glow bright red. The guard’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but Noah noticed. “And how did she hail her ride?” The metal was waved near his face.
“She had a cheap looking phone. Burner, probably. She sent a text, the whole thing was over in less than, I don’t know, fifteen minutes.” He could feel the heat of it near his face, tried to squirm away. “Please.”
Gasp. “A crooked casino? In this town?” Rhiannon’s eyebrow quirked at the baton. God help her if Noah started finding creative places to poke that thing. She took a wandering step away and gave the guard’s busted knee a little nudge with her shoe, because even if she didn’t necessarily want him killed, the man fed people to a vampire. “Are we getting the vibe that Winter might’ve been in on this? Pretty elaborate for a teenager. Who are the parents?”
Noah really was starting to get bored. He was imagining a reality in which he got to be alone with the two guards when Rhiannon’s questions brought him back. “Hm? Oh, yeah.” He drew back the baton. “The father’s a real estate developer and mom is a socialite. Annoying people. They have counterfeit art.”
The pyrokinetic rocked back on his heels. “If she knew this place was dangerous, why put herself in harm’s way? They used a PI to follow her friends, they’re all clueless and dim. I’m...what do you call it? The last resort.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Rhiannon let her mind wander, the weapon doing a slip-and-catch routine in her hand. “There’s only two things I can think of. One, this place was less dangerous than the alternative, or two, she was never actually in danger here. Well.” She shrugged. “Good luck figuring it out.” The hunter opened the door to the bright hallway and held out her arm for Noah. “After you.”
He shrugged and tossed the weapon out of reach, standing up and checking for any blood on his clothing before linking his arm through Rhiannon’s outstretched one. “Hey,” Noah commented as they made their way through the hallway, “you think that guy is still at the table, waiting for you and that ticket?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Rhiannon listened to the click of the door behind them, reassured that the guards weren’t dead, only mildly disfigured. “Don’t answer that.” She lifted the obsidian weapon for Noah’s closer perusal. “Wanna hold it?”
Noah gave a quiet snort at the retraction, looking over his shoulder at the door. “They’re probably fired.” His eyes caught the handle, and he swore he could actually feel his pupils dilate. “Of course I do,” the pyrokinetic answered finally. “Where did you get it?”
“Remember that employer I told you about?” Rhiannon let the weapon fall gently into Noah’s hand. “Perks of the job.” In his grasp, it would behave differently. No fiery blade, just what looked like an artifact or maybe even a religious object, but of an otherworldly craftsmanship. It wouldn’t seem to cry out to him if he put it away for the night, though there might be other whispers or clicks in the atmosphere if he held onto it long enough, or strange dreams from having it nearby. There always seemed to be, where Elfleda was concerned. Even now, Rhiannon wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to let Noah inspect it, or know that she had it. It might have superficially seemed like a boast, but it wasn’t as simple as that. Maybe it was the fire.
His fingers wrapped around the handle also reverently. It looked less like a weapon in this state, and more like a work of fine art. There was also a sense of proximity, the feeling of someone just over his shoulder, leaning in with an inhale of air as if about to speak. “That’s quite a job perk,” Noah remarked. “I’ve never seen that happen to a vampire before.”
A few moments later, he passed it back, though not as reluctantly as he would have expected. “How do you feel when you use it?”
“Conflicted.” Because she loved the up-close-and-personal win of a stake to the heart. Because the dagger hadn’t vanquished the vampire, only sent him to a holding cell in hell. Because hell meant torture. Because hunting had often felt like a holy act to her and this was not holy. Because despite all that, it felt really good. But what to say to Noah? Like usual, a broad version of the truth. “The person who gave this to me said that all my life, people had been turning a key in my back. I don’t need a weapon triggering a dopamine response. That’s just another key.”
There was something about that description that set off a very clear visual in his head. Noah felt his mouth open again, words threatening to spill out before closing it again. To swallow them. It didn’t work. “Maybe the key isn’t the weapon or how good it feels to use it. It’s making you pace back and forth in your mind about whether to use it. Knowing they can make you question yourself.”
The pyrokinetic paused, then smiled. “Don’t question yourself.”
“That second guess is called a conscience.” Rhiannon gave him a long look. “Do you go with your first instinct all the time? I always envied that about vampires. That certainty of who they are. It’s just so streamlined. I wanted to have that clarity of purpose, too. Like the sharp edge of a knife.” Rhiannon stopped walking and closed her eyes, the simplicity of it just now dawning on her. “Oh goddamnit.”
“What?” Noah halted in his tracks, too, shooting her a curious look. “Did you leave the stove on?”
Rhiannon snorted. “No. Did you ever have a secret wish, and someone came along and offered you exactly what you wanted, and you reached for it without even noticing what was happening?” She held up the dagger. “It’s so on the nose.”
“You’re a flaming knife. I could think of worse things to be.” Noah reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a bank roll. He separated it in half and held it out to her. “I get half up front, half after for a job,” the pyrokinetic explained. “You earned a take. For fact finding.”
“This feels weird.” Rhiannon stared at the bills. “Screw it, I need new shoes.” She took the cash and folded it. “I think you’re interesting, Noah. I can think of worse things to be, too.” They were close to the door of the parking garage, so she reached out and pressed the bar. “I gotta go. There’s a messy thing happening in Searchlight. Aren’t you glad you don’t have to deal with it?” She smiled and stepped outside.