The Long Way Down (Daniel Faust #1)(78)

“leave it 2 me,” Jennifer’s text read, and fifteen minutes later she sent over an address. We found parking in a garage off Las Vegas Boulevard and went a couple of blocks on foot, blending in with the tourist crowds.

“Really? Margaritaville?” Caitlin said, staring up at the sign. Calypso music bubbled out of an open doorway. Caribbean-style seating spread out under the wings of a dangling seaplane.

“Well, it is five o’clock somewhere,” I said, leading her inside. “And Lauren won’t be looking for us here.”

“Indeed. No one would ever look for magicians in a place that serves copious amounts of alcohol.”

Touché. I worried about the number of solid citizens milling around the place, considering what we had to discuss, but Jennifer had thought of everything. We found the whole crew up on the open terrace, where she’d evidently booked tables for a group three times our size. The tropical music, the noise from the street below, and a few empty tables for a buffer all worked together to give us a bit of much-needed privacy.

A rainbow of drinks decorated the table, garnished with springs of mint and wedges of pineapple carved to look like shark fins. The one holdout was Mama Margaux, sipping a layered milkshake topped with a volcano of whipped cream. Jennifer sat next to her, with a long flower box wrapped in gold ribbon taking up the chair on her other side. Bentley and Corman, each halfway through a frosted margarita, leaned against one another and watched the traffic go by. The gang was all here.

Except for Spengler, I thought, swallowing a momentary stab of guilt. Caitlin stood behind me as we approached, and I caught a glimpse of her wringing her hands. I didn’t think anything could make her nervous.

They all fell silent as we walked up to the table. Their eyes had weight, questioning, roving. I reached behind Caitlin, resting a reassuring hand on the small of her back.

“Everybody,” I said, “I want you to meet someone. This is Caitlin.”

If any of the tourists a few tables away had looked in our direction, they wouldn’t have seen a thing. Just a pack of people sitting in sudden silence, waiting for someone to talk. If they could see like we did, though, attuned to the currents of magic, it would have been a totally different story. Psychic tendrils took to the wind like a sea anemone’s tentacles, rippling in the air, testing, probing. Some jerked back in sudden shock while others curved around, sniffing at Caitlin’s spirit-body with dark curiosity.

I could feel Bentley and Corman’s minds, their presence a warm pressure on my sinuses, and I realized what they were doing. They wanted to know if I’d been corrupted. Poisoned, addicted, like Caitlin had done to Detective Holt.

“No,” I said firmly, and the pressure receded.

“Is that what I—” Jennifer started to say, then leaned over to Margaux and whispered, “Is that what I think it is?”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, her face a blank slate.

Bentley’s hands dropped under the table, and I knew him well enough to know what that meant. My own hand drifted toward my pocket, the weight of my cards reassuring against my hip. Mama pushed back her chair, just half an inch. Corman’s eyes narrowed. I felt the situation slipping out of control, like a ball of yarn tumbling down a flight of stairs, one useless end clutched in my fingertips.

“You’re my family,” I said, and the movement stopped dead. I looked at them and shook my head. “Growing up, I didn’t really have one worth a damn. You all know where I came from, where I’ve been. Your stories are a lot like mine. We aren’t just friends. What we have is deeper than that. The lengths we’ve gone for each other are farther than that. We chose each other, as family. Because we needed each other.”

Corman’s eyes widened. Margaux nodded almost imperceptibly.

“When times are hard,” I said, “we have each other’s backs. We trust each other. I know it goes against everything in your gut, but right now, I want you—I need you—to trust me. Trust me when I tell you that Caitlin…Caitlin’s okay. This woman saved my life. I hope you can respect that. I hope you can respect me.”

Now the pensive silence was palpable. I looked across the table, my heart pounding. If they turned me away, cast me out…

Caitlin put her arm around my waist. Now it was her turn to give a reassuring touch. Bentley’s gaze flitted to her hand, to the way she looked at me. His expression softened and he took a deep breath, nodding to himself.

“I think we’ve been terribly rude,” he said softly. “We need two more chairs at this table.”

Jennifer moved the flower box, patting the empty chair. “C’mere, Cait, you can sit next to me. Y’know, I dated Daniel for a coupla months once—”

“Too soon,” I groaned, pulling over a chair and looking for the drink menu.

“Oh, no,” Caitlin said. “I want to hear all about it.”

Corman just smiled, patting Bentley on the back and whispering in his ear. I felt tears in my eyes and a kind of relief I hadn’t known existed.

There was no guarantee any of us would live to see the morning, but whatever Lauren had in store for us, we’d face it together.





Thirty-Nine



With a frozen margarita in hand and the waitress out of earshot, I got down to business.

“Tonight, Lauren Carmichael and her followers are going to open the Etruscan Box. If she succeeds, it’s pretty much game over for the entire planet. Not that we’ll be around to worry about it, because Las Vegas will be a smoking crater.”