possibly on Hell's radar for dissension, it was an excellent idea.
In my usual lucky way, I ended up having to go first. With all my worries about Seth and the contracts, my mind wasn't exactly focused on all of Roman's good instructions, but I nonetheless did my best to recall his training. I ended up hitting seven and then two pins. Not the greatest, but certainly not the worst. My teammates cheered me voraciously, both because Peter had sent us all a lengthy e-mail earlier in the day about "pep" and because with our track record, nine wasn't that bad.
Tiara went after me, and as she retrieved her ball, Cody whispered to me how she'd gotten in a fight with management earlier because she'd wanted to wear stilettos on the lanes. She'd apparently conceded to wear proper bowling shoes in the end, but unless there'd been a significant trend change in the industry, she'd ended up using her shape-shifting powers to make the shoes more to her liking. They were gold and encrusted with jewels.
Yet those weren't the worst part of her attire. That came in the form of her Devil May Care shirt, which I was pretty sure had shrunk about three sizes since I arrived. The buttons that were still actually fastened looked like they were about to burst. I winced as all that cleavage walked past me, and I wanted to cover my eyes when she reached the lane and bent over unnecessarily far, in order to give everyone a solid view of her ass. Her jeans were nearly as tight as the shirt.
"That is not a regulation stance," declared Peter. He studied her critically for a few moments. "I believe she's trying to distract us."
I scoffed. "Oh, you think?"
"Hey!" Peter elbowed Cody and Hugh who - judging by their gaping mouths - were not catching on to Tiara's ruse as easily as the rest of us. "Focus. Remember what you're playing for: Jerome's good will."
"Nothing wrong with looking," said Hugh. "Besides, there's no way she can hit anything with that - "
His words cut off as Tiara threw. Her ball blasted into the pins and knocked all ten over. With a little smirk and a lot of hip swaying, she strutted back proudly to her seat.
"Shit," said Hugh.
"Ready to focus yet?" asked Peter.
The imp shook his head, still in awe. "I don't think it's going to matter, not if they all bowl like that."
"They can't all bowl like that," countered Cody. But he didn't sound so sure.
Noticing our consternation, Tiara favored us all with a glossy-lipped smile. "We can call it quits right now if you want. We can go back to my hotel and have a party." She tossed her highlighted curls over one shoulder, and her gaze rested on me. "I can also give you some styling advice if you want."
"Oh my God," I muttered. "This is why I hate other succubi." I could almost give Hell credit for finding me the only appealing one in Vegas, even if it had been part of a more elaborate scheme.
Tiara soon became the least of our worries as her teammates took their turns. Strikes and spares all around, quickly surpassing our mix of erratic spares and . . . whatever it was Peter threw. As we moved further into the game, I glanced over at Jerome and saw that his smile had vanished, as had his cocky good mood. At least I could feel confident it had nothing to do with my contract.
V proved to be the most startling of the bowlers. Whenever his turn came, he walked up unhesitatingly, didn't even pause or aim, and threw strikes every time. Every time. He also never spoke a single world.
"How is he doing that?" exclaimed Cody. He glanced at Carter, who was watching everything with quiet amusement. "Is he using some kind of power?"
"No illicit ones," said Carter. "Just his own God-given . . . er, Hell-given abilities."
I hadn't really been worried about the other team cheating or Nanette helping them. I knew Jerome would keep her in check, and Carter's angelic presence was kind of a safeguard against dishonest activity. But his words struck something within me.
"Of course," I murmured. "He's just using what he's got: enhanced reflexes and senses. He's a vampire. He's physically better at everything." No wonder it didn't seem like he needed to aim. He probably was; he was just doing it really, really fast. I turned to Cody and Peter. "How