A shiver of dread crawled down my spine. Once before, the casino’s built-in security forces had mistaken innocent bystanders for dangerous intruders—and dealt with them accordingly. That time, it had been me and Pritkin in the hot seat, and we’d almost ended up dead. I somehow didn’t think the average tourist was likely to fare even that well.

I dove between a couple of hobbits—or jawas or possibly very short monks—and grabbed the bow out of the gamer’s hand. I tossed it to one of the security guys, who had jogged up from the other side. Casanova’s love affair with filthy lucre was going to be the death of us all. “This was not the time to book in a bunch of norms,” I hissed, sotto voce.

The guard just shrugged, holding the bow too high for the flailing arms of the outraged gamer to grab it. “No discharging weapons inside the casino!” he bellowed.

The young man scowled. “Zero charisma, okay?”

I turned to find Chewbacca still foaming at the mouth. “Look, lady, I got vendors with no place to put their stuff! What am I supposed to tell them?”

Even if Casanova had been paying me, it wouldn’t have been enough for this. I threw an arm around his hairy shoulders. “See that guy over there?” I pointed at Pritkin. “He usually handles stuff like this. Only he doesn’t like that to get around, so you might have to be a little persistent.”

Tall, dark and fuzzy pointed at Pritkin and yelled something to the half dozen vendors hanging around the entrance. They converged on the mage in a pack and I went back to work. Five minutes later, I felt a warm hand descend on my shoulder. “That wasn’t very nice.”

My skin prickled like someone was breathing on it. “Since when do you care?” I snapped. “Nice” wasn’t even in Pritkin’s vocabulary.

“It isn’t one of my usual requirements,” he agreed, sounding amused.

I didn’t answer, my eyes on the group of gamers who were now trying to entice the “yrthak” down from its perch by waving a sandwich at it. It really concerned me that it hadn’t gone back to its proper place yet. Even more worrying was the fact that its eyes were fixed not on the proffered food but on the nearest gamer’s jugular.

“You can control those things, right?” I asked a nearby guard nervously.

The man didn’t answer, but he moved a few yards closer to the “elves,” his face about as happy as mine. Letting someone get eaten wasn’t likely to improve his next performance evaluation. He pulled out a radio, looking worried. “We may have a situation,” he told someone.

“I saw you watching me.” The words were spoken directly into my ear.

“Bully for you,” I said, as my nice orderly line of elves, trolls and ancient wizards went scurrying off to where the action was. Damn. I’d really hoped to be out of here soon.

Pritkin was standing close enough that the heat from his body was causing a little trickle of sweat to run down my spine. “Entertaining as this conversation has been,” I told him caustically, “I have actual work to do. Why don’t you go point a gun at something?”

He didn’t comment, maybe because he was too busy licking a slow, wet trail up my neck. For a frozen second, I just stood there. I’d always assumed that Pritkin had some kind of allergy to human contact. He rarely touched people, unless he was moving me around like a mannequin, and he never made passes. Especially not such…obvious…ones.

I spun to see his smile widening, his eyes gone vibrant green. It was not an expression I’d ever imagined on his face—an almost feral sexuality. And his clothes were back to black. It gave me a very bad feeling, and that was before he reached out and pulled me against him.

Whatever I might have said was silenced by lips sliding softly over mine. I wasn’t prepared for him to kiss me, much less like that. His mouth was warm and surprisingly sweet, and the faint scrape of stubble shouldn’t have been the least bit erotic, yet it was. His tongue traced a feathery caress over my bottom lip in a way that felt positively indecent. I pulled back, seriously confused. “What—”

“No,” he said, tilted my head and kissed me. Heat radiated from the heavy hand resting on my neck, and a thumb stroked light patterns down my throat. A sudden rush of desire made me forget to keep my mouth closed, and a tongue twined expertly around my own. Pritkin took his time, exploring me, tasting me. A hand rested on my waist, in what should have been a neutral spot, but it burned.

I jerked away, angry and confused. “Are you crazy?” One of the fun facts about the geis was the jolt of pain it gave me whenever I got close to anyone but Mircea. It seemed to have a particular grudge against Pritkin, upping the usual warning where he was concerned to a level that had me certain my eyes were dripping down my cheekbones.

He didn’t answer, just somehow backed me into the reservation desk without laying a hand on me. Something was going on in the casino: I could hear screams and see camera flashes, and a bunch of guards ran by with a huge net in their hands. “I know you talked to Saleh,” he whispered against my lips. “What did he tell you?”

Another inhuman shriek rent the air, this time from above. The second creature did not appear to like the fact that the guards were trying to trap its companion. It took off the top of one of the stalactites on its way to join the fight, and fake rock rained down on us from all sides. I barely noticed, being far more concerned about the body suddenly pressing hard against me.

“Answer me.” The hilt of a sword was gouging into my ribs, I realized vaguely, and something was…was wrong about that. Where was the holster lump on his thigh? Or the ratty leather belt studded with weapons and potions, like a homicidal mad scientist? And since when did Pritkin wear cologne?

I suddenly panicked. None of this made sense. I was absolutely not standing in the middle of the lobby making out with Pritkin while all hell broke loose. I pushed at him, with no more result than trying to move a boulder. “Let go!”

Power flooded the air, making the hairs on my arms stick up in alarm and sending a scorching tide rolling across my body. “I said let go,” I murmured, suddenly lost in a pair of crystal-clear eyes. His mouth claimed mine again, fierce and possessive, not at all shy of anyone who might be watching, and something about it made the rest of the world fall away into pure hunger. The scent of him was maddening—something elegant and expensive and completely unexpected, with the musk of skin and need beneath the rest.

He pulled back and I looked into the face of a stranger, one wearing an expression of hawklike intensity. “Answer me.” The command surged through me with the irresistible force of a tidal wave. I opened my mouth in unthinking response, just as a new shower of plaster from above dropped on top of us.

I sputtered and choked on a mouthful of gray dust, and Pritkin gave a frustrated sigh. “For a place filled with incubi,” he said dryly, “managing a seduction here is surprisingly difficult.” I stumbled back into another group of security men headed for the crisis of the hour, and by the time we got ourselves sorted out, Pritkin was gone.

“You know, I’m not so forgiving, either,” I said, glaring at the pixie. As if I didn’t have enough trouble with Pritkin going insane, Radella had come up with exactly zilch.

Françoise was still pawing through the alarming number of weapons Casanova had stockpiled in a storeroom on Dante’s lowest level. I’d decided that, given the number of people who wanted me dead, maybe I should stock up. And with Radella still scheming against her, I figured Françoise might be able to use a few items herself.

She held up something. “Q’est-ce que c’est?”

I squinted at it. “It’s a Taser. It shocks people.”

“Quoi?”

“Like lightning.” I danced about a little and understanding lit her eyes.

She looked at the pixie, who was hovering well out of reach near the ceiling, and smiled. “Shock me and I’ll cut your heart out,” Radella promised.

Françoise didn’t comment, but she clipped the small device to the olive green, army-style tool belt she’d found in a weapons locker. It looked a little odd next to her outfit. She was still wearing the dress from the fashion show, although the spiders were starting to look a bit lackluster. Two had stopped moving altogether, and the one on her shoulder had been weaving the same web for the last twenty minutes. It looked like the charm was meant to last for one day only.

Other than the dress she’d had on when she escaped from Faerie, it was the only outfit I’d seen her wear. It suddenly occurred to me that she might not have any others. I made a mental note to take her shopping.

“What seems to be the holdup?” I asked Radella, while examining a 9 mm. It didn’t look like the grip was any smaller than mine, so I put it back.

“I can’t find it, all right?” She fluttered to the top of a gun cabinet and sat down, chin in hand. Her iridescent wings drooped around her shoulders dispiritedly. “I’ve looked everywhere!”

“Then look again!”

“If the portal was here, I’d have found it!”

“Well, obviously not,” I pointed out. “Because it is here.”

“Then it should have been easy to locate,” Radella groused. “The power output alone—”

“Come again?”

She gave me a disgusted look. “Portals don’t run on batteries! They’re rare not only because they’re regulated but because few people have a power source capable of handling one.”

“What kind of power are we talking about?”

“A lot. A ley-line sink is usually required, although there are talismans capable of opening a short-term gateway. But they’re rare. I doubt that vampire had one.”

“A ley-line what?”

“Where two lines cross and pool their energy,” Radella said impatiently. I blinked at her. “Ley. Lines,” she said, very slowly and distinctly. “You do know what those are, right?”