Midnight`s Daughter Page 0,58

face as he backed quickly away. “So what am I supposed to do?” I demanded.

A vamp landed hard on the street beside us, and Casanova kicked him viciously in the ribs. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, I suggest you do it soon. Everyone who can get out of here is heading for the hills. Except for me,” he added, picking the vamp up and slamming him against the ship’s hull. “I’m not going anywhere. Everyone may as well understand that right now!”

I sighed and gave up. A quick glance showed that Louis-Cesare had cleared the deck and was tying the only human dumb enough to stick around to a barrel with the remains of the rigging. Time to make my exit.

“You don’t know why I was here—I never had a chance to tell you,” I instructed Casanova, as a peri-wigged young man hurried up, only to stop dead at the sight of us.

“Theatrical makeup,” Casanova told him, apropos of nothing. “There’s a trapdoor in the deck.” The guy nodded and scrambled on board, looking a little freaked-out.

I eyed Casanova up and down. He didn’t look that bad to me. “Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”

“Jean Lafitte.”

“And that would be patriotic how?”

“He fought in the Revolutionary War, and in the War of 1812. On the American side.”

“I thought he was a pirate.”

“He was.” Casanova smoothed his brilliant maroon coat. “I told you. Sometimes the bad guys can be good guys. It all depends on the circumstances.”

“Thanks for that nugget of wisdom. I’ll cherish it.”

Casanova ignored me. “Who is he, anyway?” He hiked a thumb at Louis-Cesare, who was standing on the deck, searching the crowd with a scowl on his face.

“Radu’s get.”

“Did you say Radu?”

“Don’t ask. Point is, I doubt he’d make a good impression on my suppliers.” Assuming I could find any. Not to mention that it wouldn’t do my reputation any good to be seen hanging around with a Senate member.

“I never saw you.” Casanova agreed, vaulting back onto the ship, which was slowly starting to move again. He poked his head back over the edge, black curls swinging. “Oh, and chica, we’re having a special on facials this week at the spa. Think about it.”

I scowled, but didn’t have time to respond appropriately. Louis-Cesare had spotted me and he looked a little tense. I dove into the crowd and got gone.

Chapter Ten

My mood wasn’t improved when I found, after dragging my bloodstained self through a large section of Vegas’ demon bars, that most of my old contacts either had left town or were currently doing a Benny impression. It wasn’t until the sky had turned a pale, cloudless blue, announcing the official end of the year’s rain, that I managed to dig up an old acquaintance.

I don’t get out West much—the proximity of MAGIC is a big deterrent—but once in a while a job results in a jaunt to the area. I found one of the guys I occasionally use for backup when that happens in the middle of packing for his patented rat-on-a-sinking-ship routine. Another hour and I’d have missed him.

“Jay, good to see you!” I slammed the door to his cheap hotel room—rentable by anything from the hour to the month—and smiled. It made the sort of impression I was hoping for, mainly because of the dried blood matting my hair and the grimace my split lip made of my grin. I hadn’t seen myself in a mirror yet, but the reactions of the crowds in the bars had been enough to tell me that intimidation probably wouldn’t be a problem.

“Dory!” The Nsquital demon’s face, which was able to pass for human if you squinted, turned violet and sprouted little bumps that looked like acne. They weren’t.

“You spray me and I’ll kill you before I melt.” I flashed a little fang, but held out weaponless hands. “I came to talk, Jay. Relax, would you?”

“I… I wouldn’t poison you, Dory. You know that.”

“Sure. That’s why I came by.” I sat down on the lumpy mattress and thumped his plastic suitcase. “Lucky I caught you, huh?”

“You know how it is.” Jay was back to ugly-human mode, his oversize teeth, jug ears and carrot top making him look like a grown-up version of the MAD magazine guy. The baggy corduroy trousers—necessary because jeans tended to show the tail—and ratty, oatmeal-colored tee didn’t help with the cool, but they did give him a pathetic edge that sort of relaxed me. “I don’t like the neighborhood so much