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 coagulating blood spattered Françoise's beautiful dress and I instinctively grabbed a napkin to wipe them off but was stopped by an angry vampire.

"Forget that!" Marlowe gave me a little shake. "We have to get out of here!”

I gestured at the flood of mages who'd started pouring in the door. Ours wasn't the only cavalry to have come charging over the hill. "How?" I screamed.

"Can't you shift?" .

The realization hit me that there was no longer any reason not to use my power. Whether I liked it or not, I was Pythia. I nodded, but before I could get an image of the street outside the casino, I heard Billy's voice again, and he sounded desperate. "Billy! Get in here!”

"What is it?" Marlowe demanded.

"Be quiet!" It was hard enough to hear as it was, without him bellowing in my ear. Billy had said something else, but I'd missed it. "Billy! I can't hear you!”

"Don't shift! I'm stuck.”

"He says he's stuck," I told Marlowe, just as the blonde got loose from her keeper and jogged over to be nearer her idol. A guard intercepted her, and in her struggle to get away she knocked into me. I lost my footing and went down just as a fireball from one of the mages sizzled overhead, barely missing me and setting Marlowe's doublet ablaze on its way to destroy the tiki bar. He had the garment off faster than I could blink, then looked around frantically for somewhere to dispose of it safely. Magical fire burns like phosphorus, so the options were kind of limited. He solved the problem by whipping it back the way it had come, where it sizzled out against the mage's shields.

Marlowe didn't appear injured, but his fangs were out and his eyes were furious. "It's going to get very hot around here very soon, Cassie. I can't think of a better time to make our exit. The ghost can catch up with us later.”

Billy must have overheard, because he began babbling like crazy. I couldn't make out most of what he was saying, but I got the gist. "Billy says not to shift.”

Marlowe looked incredulous, but my expression must have warned him not to argue. "Stay here. I'll arrange something," he said abruptly before vanishing in a blur of color.

I was left huddled under the table to escape the stampeding crowd. Through the transparent tabletop I could see that the female fan had finally fought her way to her idol, a look of devotion on her features. I could only assume that she was drunk or legally blind, because the object of her affection was looking pretty damn scary. The glowing eyes, pulsing brain and salivating mouth didn't seem to register with her, however, and she lunged for him just as Deino gave a mighty heave and ripped the bucket away. The force of the movement caused the contents to splash all over the woman, drenching her from head to foot and leaving what looked like a piece of liver wedged in her cleavage.

She screamed, which was the worse possible reaction, because it got the zombie's attention. It ignored Deino, who was yelling in an unknown language and repeatedly clouting it over the head with the empty bucket. Instead, it dove for the gory girl.

Casanova was trying to evacuate the lounge and direct the fight away from the remaining norms. "Get the damn bocors in here!" I heard him bellow, just as three security men threw themselves on Elvis. He went down on the blood-slick floor barely a yard away from me, with the woman underneath him. Wherever the voodoo workers who usually controlled the acts were, it didn't look like they'd be quick enough to prevent her from becoming a midnight snack for the King.

"Help her!" I screamed at the Graeae. Enyo didn't need to be told twice. In a blink she switched from old-lady mode to her alter ego, covered in her own blanket of blood. It's supposed to contain remnants of every enemy she'd ever slaughtered, and either the variety or sheer amount got the zombie's attention. He dragged himself to his feet, despite having three security guards hanging off him. He didn't let go of the woman, but tucked her under his arm and stumbled after his new prey.

At a frantic look from me, Pemphredo snatched the girl and shoved her at Deino before jumping on the zombie's back. He gave a very nonmusical hiss when she started digging in his open cranium, tossing out handfuls of bloody brains. Enyo stayed just out of reach, leading the stumbling creature on a zigzag course through the tables, while her sister continued the impromptu lobotomy.

Marlowe appeared at my elbow, hair wild and pantaloons scorched, but otherwise unharmed. I grabbed his shirt with both hands. "Tell me you have a plan!”

“There's a trapdoor under the stage, we just have to make sure none of the mages see us go through it.”

I didn't think that would be an issue. The zombies were a little short on fighting technique, but they made up for it in resilience. As Marlowe spoke, a mage thrust his arm completely through our waiter's abdomen, but despite the fact that his fist came out the other side, it didn't even slow the zombie down. Elvis, on the other hand, had either tired out or lost enough cognitive ability to forget what he'd been doing, because he had simply stopped three or four tables away. Enyo and Pemphredo abandoned him for the mages, leaving the newly arrived security people to deal with the King.

Casanova ran over at the head of the squad. "What are you two waiting for?" he screeched in a very unsexy voice. "Go!”

"I'll check out the exit and make sure there are no surprises," Marlowe said, slipping into the crowd. I started to follow when I was stopped in my tracks by a very unwelcome sight. A livid-looking Pritkin was standing by the smoldering remains of the bar, scanning the room. Marlowe's vermilion pantaloons must have caught his eye, because he zeroed in on him and, a second later, on me.

Uh-oh.

Casanova followed the direction of my gaze and said something a little stronger. He gave me a panicked look. "Mircea ordered me to help you, but there are limits! Locking the mage in an office while he recovered was one thing, but I cannot inflict actual harm. Not even if I'm staked for it!”

I stared at him. "What are you talking about?" I didn't get an answer because several mages had crashed through the undead lineup and were headed our way. He motioned for his security people, half of whom were vampires, to intercept them and started to follow, but I grabbed his arm. "When did you talk to Mircea?”

"He called a few hours ago, after you pulled your little stunt at MAGIC. He asked if I'd spoken to you and what we'd discussed. I told him." He saw my expression and his own grew even more irritable. "Did you really expect me to lie? I may serve two masters, Cassie, but I try to do it well.”

With that cryptic remark, he was off, leaving me to handle Pritkin on my own. I judged the distance to the stage and knew I wouldn't make it. The tables that weren't on fire had overturned, and a few had begun to liquefy under the barrage of spells, sending rivers of melted glass everywhere. There was nothing else for it; Billy's warning notwithstanding, I was going to have to shift. I called for my power, but it was sluggish. I wasn't sure whether that had to do with the portal scrambling my brains or the sight of Pritkin's face as he fought his way through the chaos. Either way, I was screwed if I couldn't concentrate better than this.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and whirled around to find Deino looking pleased. Her sisters were busy fighting war mages with unabashed glee, but she had stuck to my side like a burr. She still had a grip on the sobbing, half-crazed fan girl, whom she thrust at me. "Birt' Day!" she said happily, apparently pleased to have found a substitute tor her ruined gift. I shook my head violently. A human sacrifice wasn't on my wish list.

"You know why mummies don't take vacations?" a muffled voice asked from under Marlowe's napkin. "They're afraid they'll relax and unwind.”