Heather Long: Waiting in the Wings

“Anton, find Frederick Reynolds. Now.” Malcolm’s younger, far more impulsive cousin currently worked within the boundaries of the Arcana Royale serving out a penance of his own to the overseers.

“Yes, sir.” The man spun and crossed the lobby at a clipped pace.

“Sir?” David, his second bodyguard, edged around him. “The sunlight.”

Richard glanced to his left. The pool of sunlight rippled toward him, and he watched the edge creep towards him dispassionately.

David didn’t move, but the vampire’s concern rippled across his guarded expression. The doors to the theatre closed behind his bride and her caretaker. Caretaker. The thought left a rancid taste in his mouth.

Drumming his fingers against his thigh, a blast of warm air drifted in the front doors as they opened. The sunlight intensified and a lick of it scalded his shoulder. David gave him a shove, moving him away from the light.

“Sir?” A woman appeared in his periphery—dark hair, dark skinned, with a tilt to her eyes and a Turkish lilt to her accent. Dressed in a skintight black bodysuit, she wore an air of danger and desire. She held up a cream-colored card with stylized writing.

He pivoted to face her. Too many questions without enough answers. Making love to Kristina again was everything he’d imagined and dreamed—except she still didn’t remember him. She was still trapped by some damnable curse.

“A personal invitation for you.” She offered the card, but Richard didn’t touch it. The casino specialized in games within games, deception wrapped in puzzles and ambushes disguised as aid.

“From?” A burst of noise from the main doors spilled into the lobby as a group of weres stumbled in, arms around each other for support, singing drunkenly. Richard sensed more than saw David shift his position, blocking Richard’s bare back.

The woman’s coy smile did not touch her eyes. “It is a private invitation for the prince of New York.”

“David.” Richard motioned to the bodyguard, who held out his hand and took the card without hesitation for possible spell work laid into the paper. The man’s dedication would be rewarded.

The exotic beauty bowed her head. “I am to wait for an answer.”

“I’ll send one along.” He wouldn’t be pressed into a rash act—not while his temper already danced on the precipice of the abyss. He wanted to tear the doors off the theatre and march in there to claim his bride. This woman would do well to stay out of his way.

Finished with the conversation, Richard walked away. He almost hoped she would try to pursue him—or better, attack him. It had been some time since the urge to hunt, tear and rend surfaced inside him. Sadly, she did neither and remained where she was, her gaze unflinchingly meeting his when he faced her from inside the elevator.

“I don’t smell magic.” David informed him when the elevator doors closed.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” The best spells lay dormant until activated by contact with the target or through some manipulation by the caster. The doors opened to Anton waiting with Frederick Reynolds. The younger Reynolds leaned against the wall, weariness etched into his expression, but he straightened when Richard strode out. Bowing slightly, the younger vampire said nothing.

“Inside.” Richard pointed to the doors. Anton swung them open, and all three followed him. Kristina’s scent layered over everything. He could pick up the traces of their lovemaking—the sweet decadence of her arousal—and practically taste her on his tongue.

A fresh wave of anger crashed through him. He didn’t slow his pace until he reached the bar. He poured a three fingers of brandy into one glass and tossed it all back with a swallow. Shutters blockaded every window, providing them with a safe refuge from the desert heat and dangerous sunshine.

“Your Highness, my cousin called to tell me about the Lady Kristina…”

Holding up a hand, the prince silenced him. “What can you tell me about the Midnight Mystery Lounge?”

Planting both hands on the back of a sofa, Frederick leaned forward. “Malcolm and his bride would know more, but I’ve done some homework. The casino does not own the theatre and lounge outright. In fact, no one knows who owns the Midnight Mystery Lounge. The stage manager, however, is in charge of the whole operation.”

“Heidi.” Richard pulled the name from the conversation with Malcolm.

“Yes. I know even less about her than I do the theatre itself. Security is minimal on the surface, but it is tied into the casino’s private security—a combination of wraiths and weres. I wouldn’t recommend going head to head with them.”

He didn’t plan to challenge the casino directly. To do that, he would need to kill Andrew and put Las Vegas under his thumb. He didn’t have months to put together his plan, but if he needed to absorb the territory, he would. “What do you know about Heidi?”

“She lives in the theatre somewhere. She rarely if ever leaves it. In the months that I’ve been here, I think I’ve see her twice.” Frederick blew out a breath. “I have no idea what the hell she is. I thought a witch maybe—”

“Did you scent her?” Richard poured himself a second drink. The guardian at the door had no scent. Kristina’s scent carried subtle alterations, as did her blood. The curse was one explanation, but the weakness he sensed—the starvation. Was that the curse or something else?

“Never got that close. Lots of rumors about her. Rumors about soul stealing, puzzle boxes, transformations and manipulations. She also has some kind of demon pet—which is what made me think witch.” His discomfort apparent, the younger vampire straightened, fists clenching as though trying to keep himself from fidgeting.

“Is there a problem, Frederick?” He swirled the drink around.

“A lot of people know you’re here, Prince Richard. A lot of people, and there is a rumor that you will be challenging Prince Andrew—and a betting pool began.”

Of course it did, because why else would the Prince of New York leave his city for the hellish oasis in the middle of the desert? He took a long drink of the alcohol, the burn quenching the knots of tension in his gut.

“Do not let it trouble you. But I need you to do something for me…”

“Anything.” He was almost too eager, and the flash of a wince in his eyes answered Richard’s unspoken question. Frederick had orders where he was concerned. Orders from the masters he now served.

“Get close to this Heidi. Find her weak points, places I can negotiate.” He wanted him to do another task, but that would be impossible now. Not when he served dual masters.

“If you wish, Your Highness. I’m not sure how close I can get to her, my job…” The younger Reynolds trailed off at Richard’s bland look and bowed his head. “I will do my best, sir.”

“Good and one more thing.” He stopped the vampire from leaving. “Read the message David has.”

Frederick cut a look toward the bodyguard and the card he held. “I’m not sure I should…” He spun and raced for the door, but Anton pinned him before he made it out. The younger vampire struggled, but he was no match for the much older Anton to contain and pin against the wall.

Richard contained his disappointment. Swirling the drink in his glass, he nodded to David. “Give him the card.”

The second bodyguard approached and Frederick’ efforts to escape redoubled. “Please, sir—”

Saying nothing, Richard merely waited him out. Anton shackled one of Frederick’ wrists and forced the palm open, leaning his shoulder and hip into the other man to keep him still. David lowered the cardstock, and Frederick yelped. “It’s a trap sir. It’s challenge from Prince Andrew.”