Claimed by Shadow Page 0,123
of khaki shorts, caught sight of the threesome and poured half a bottle of Chivas on the bar before he noticed.
"A tough audience, huh?" the head asked. "Okay, but did you hear the one about the guy who couldn't keep up payments to his exorcist? He was repossessed. Ha! Now, go ahead, tell me that's not funny!”
"It's not funny," Marlowe said, unfolding his napkin.
"Hey, wait! I got a thousand of them! How about the-" Thankfully, the heavy cotton folds of the napkin cut the thing off before I kicked it across the room.
Deino approached our table with a toothless grin. "Birt' Day!" she said, beaming at me. I started in surprise: they were the first English words I'd heard her use, and it was obvious that she was proud of herself. I might have been more admiring if she hadn't followed her greeting by plopping a bucket of bloody entrails on the table right under my nose.
I looked at Marlowe fearfully. "Please tell me that isn't-”
"It's not human," he said, wrinkling up his nose. "Cow, I think.”
Pemphredo plopped a newspaper full of casino chips onto the table beside her sister's gift. None were the red and blue ones I use: most were black, with a few five-hundred-dollar purple ones scattered about here and there. I counted more than four thousand dollars at just a glance. I closed my eyes in despair-all I needed were the human police after me, too. Not to be outdone, Enyo placed a large three-tiered cake beside the other two gifts. It was covered in something slimy and green, which I guessed was supposed to be icing. I decided not to ask why it smelled like pesto.
Deino dumped the remaining piña colada out of my coconut shell and filled it with a generous measure of blood and guts. She shoved it under my nose and beamed at me. "Birt' Day!”
I managed not to gag. "Why are they doing this?" I asked Marlowe, who was looking almost as disgusted as I felt. Vamps don't drink animal blood. It does nothing for them and many find it actually repugnant.
"As a guess? They are making an offering. In the ancient world, blood sacrifices were common. If I were you, I'd be grateful they aren't slicing up a virgin on the table. Perhaps they couldn't find one in Vegas.”
"Ha, ha. What am I supposed to do with-" That was as far as I got. If I hadn't been so grossed out, I'd have noticed earlier that zombie Elvis had stopped singing halfway through a lackluster rendition of "All Shook Up" and was now trying to climb down from the stage.
Marlowe was on his feet. "We have to get rid of the bucket!”
I looked around at the close-packed tables full of clueless tourists. "How?”
Elvis scattered the handful of security types who had rushed forward and lurched toward our table. His eyes were no longer dull, but were filled with a burning hunger as they zeroed in on the bloody bucket. Then one of the guards with more muscle than sense grabbed him by the shoulder and tried to whirl him around. All he succeeded in doing was knocking the toupee the rest of the way off, revealing the top of an exposed brain. I guessed the voodoo types Casanova kept on staff had been a little overworked after the recent raid and had skimped on the repair work. That probably hadn't been a good business decision.
The sight of a gray-faced, slack-jawed zombie glowering from under a pulsing, bloody brain pretty much tore it for the people at nearby tables. Several of them let out screams, and they collectively knocked over chairs and one another in the stampede to get away. Other customers, who were too far back to get the full effect, began clapping, assuming that this was part of the night's entertainment. I wondered whether they'd still think so after Elvis downed the appetizer and started looking for a main course.
"Cassie!" Dimly, like an echo of an echo, I heard Billy's voice. I looked around but couldn't see him anywhere in the pandemonium.
Marlowe tugged me backwards, but my equilibrium hadn't returned and I lost my footing. I clutched at the table, trying to steady myself, while Elvis got a grip on the bucket's handle. Deino screeched and grabbed her offering, starting a furious tug of war. It slopped blood all over the tabletop, which was only a circle of glass perched on top of a grinning tiki head. Clots of