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paused, his expression an odd mix of tenderness and pain. "Try not to get killed.”

"Yeah. You, too." I would have preferred time to say good-bye, but there wasn't any. I kissed him quickly, took a running start and threw myself at the swirl of color. At the last second Pritkin dove in beside me. There was a flash of light, then another, then only blackness.

Chapter 13

I came around because a pounding was reverberating in my head. I realized three things simultaneously: I was back at Dante's, the pounding was coming from large speakers masquerading as giant tiki heads and Elvis was looking really rough-even for a dead guy. I blinked and Kit Marlowe shoved a drink into my hand. "Try to look normal," he murmured as Elvis started on the chorus to "Jailhouse Rock.”

I looked around dazedly but found it hard to concentrate on anything but the huge man in white sequins who was swaying in what I guess was meant to be an alluring fashion. The bullet that had recently scalped him had been large caliber, and I didn't think the emergency toupee was holding up too well. The ladies throwing everything from room keys to underwear onstage didn't seem to notice, though. I guess love really is blind.

I wanted to ask what was going on, but my brain and mouth didn't seem to be connected. I sat, swaying a little in my chair. Half the audience was doing the same, but their movements were an unconscious imitation of the performance and not because of an unclear concept of which way was up. What was wrong with me? I'd barely had the thought when I remembered: the portal. Unlike the unnoticeable transition at MAGIC, this one had packed a wallop. Trust Tony to cheap out. Judging by the way my head felt, he'd gone for the bargain-basement version since he hadn't planned to ever have to use it himself. I hoped it had given him a really big migraine.

Marlowe picked a blue lace thong off his ear, one of the offerings to the god of rock 'n' roll that hadn't quite made me stage, and tossed it over his shoulder. "We're in trouble," he said unnecessarily.

I raised an eyebrow. What else was new? Marlowe used his swizzle stick to poke the fist-sized shrunken head that was posing as a centerpiece. The fact that the ugly thing sat on a pretty nest of dark green palm fronds and orange birds of paradise helped not at all. A shriveled, raisin-like eye reluctantly opened and rotated in his direction. "Can't it wait? This is my favorite song.”

"I need a refill," Marlowe told it tersely. "One of the same." The head closed its eyes, but its mouth kept moving.

"What-" I paused to swallow because my tongue felt about twice the usual size, then tried again. "What is it doing?”

"Communicating with the bar," Marlowe answered, glancing around surreptitiously.

"I'm going to pass out now," I informed him.

Marlowe shot me a reproving glance. "You will do no such tiling. The Circle has us surrounded. Two of their operatives saw us flash in and now everyone they left at the casino is here. They're too wary of the internal defenses and your abilities to try anything without backup, so we have a few moments, but that's all. You have to be ready to move.”

"Move where? You said we're surrounded.”

"Casanova is going to arrange a diversion, but for the moment all we can do is sit tight. And have a drink," he added, as I tried valiantly to keep my eyes from crossing. "Alcohol usually helps in these cases.”

I nodded, but his words made less of an impression on my fried brain than the little head in the center of the table. It had finished talking to the bar and was now humming along with the music, which was quite a trick for a piece of plastic. I guess normal tourists thought there was some sort of microphone hidden inside the things that relayed their orders, but I knew better. I'd seen one of these before.

We were in Dante's zombie bar-the one known as Headliners because of the gruesome decorations and top-notch, if sadly deceased, entertainers. From past experience, I knew that the heads posing as centerpieces were fake, but not the way the tourists thought. They were enchanted copies designed to look like the only real one in the place, whose desiccated remains were suspended between two carved wooden masks behind the bar. It was rumored to