No sign marked the Casino Demonica. Its door was slightly ajar, and one of the windowpanes was broken, damage that had happened a while back and never been repaired. I pushed through, glad no security had been posted. I didn’t particularly want to have to leave my katana behind. Despite what I’d told Lionel, I wasn’t certain to avoid mirrors.
The casinos and other drinking establishments for the dark community in Philly were never particularly high class, and this place had always been one of the most rundown. Grimstar, the latest owner, hadn’t changed things much. When he’d arrived, he’d generated a brief flurry of interest due to his claims of being a necromancer, but when he’d demonstrated little to no power, that interest had died down.
At the end of a dark corridor, a small door opened up into the casino floor. For a gambling establishment, not much excitement was evident. Sitting by the bar on oversized barstools, two trolls, evident from thick shoulders which hunched up higher than their neck as well as the gray tinge to their skin, stared glassy-eyed at nothing in particular, bottles of vodka in front of them.
Only a few blackjack tables were in operation. Three woodfolk, slight and small with very pallid skin and child-like faces, were gathered around one table, chattering in their noisy language, their hands moving with nervous energy. They provided the only bit of life to the place.
Moving farther inside, I found Kingston. He sat at a blackjack table, a glass of whiskey in front of him, and a beautiful young blonde woman draped across one shoulder. He smiled upon seeing me. “Alessandra, you came. Have a drink.” He shoved the blonde off his shoulder. She gave a start, looked around in a dazed manner, then lay down on the blackjack table, using her hands as a pillow, and closed her eyes.
I sat on a stool at the other end of the blonde, using her as a barrier between Kingston and me. “I didn’t come because you asked.”
“Still, you came.” He gave a dopey grin. “Have a drink with me.”
His voice was slurred; he was clearly extremely drunk. I nodded at the blonde lying between us. “You already have someone to drink with.”
“She’s nobody. I want you.”
“You prefer someone conscious? How flattering.”
“You know how much you mean to me,” Kingston said. “Have you been good since we last spoke? No naughtiness? No killing anyone you shouldn’t?”
How close had I come to harming Lionel when bloodlust had briefly taken me? “Killing goes beyond naughtiness.”
“Has Alessandra been a naughty girl?”
I sighed. He was so drunk, I wasn’t sure he was comprehending half of what I was saying. “Is there any particular reason you are here?”
“Huh?”
“Casino Demonica in particular? As opposed to another joint?”
He shrugged. “I’m here most nights.”
“Have you heard of a necromancer called Val Beaugard?”
Kingston shook his head.
“She’s also a hood mage.”
He shrugged.
“What about a woman called Connie?”
“Connie, her I know.” A greasy smile lit Kingston’s face. “She’s pretty in a skanky way, though she’d do anyone or anything for her next fix.”
I was hesitant to believe in coincidences, but Kingston didn’t seem to be involved in what I had been caught up in, beyond drinking in this casino every night.
“Are you jealous of Connie?” Kingston was watching my expression and reaching wrong conclusions about my thoughts. He put his hand on my forearm. “You don’t have to be, you know. We have so much more than she and I ever could.”
“Good to know.” I lifted my arm to dislodge his hand. “Where would I find Connie?”
“Grimstar will know,” Kingston said, a cunning look appearing on his face. “He won’t tell you, though.”
“Why not?” Some scheme had come to Kingston, and I wasn’t looking forward to finding out what it was.
“He doesn’t know you. He knows me, though. Owes me a favor, in fact. If I asked him, he’d give you all the help you wanted.”
“But you expect something in return?”
“I want to steal a kiss?”
“A kiss?” Was there something in the air?
“Not just any kind of kiss. A vampire kind of kiss.”
I made a face. “From me? Why? I’m sure the bloodbag will be delighted to satisfy your craving when she wakes up. Or go home. The Huntley apartments hold fawns in all shapes and sizes who will be only delighted to satisfy you.”
Kingston leaned forward and took a long sniff. “You smell delicious, did you know that?”
“I think you are smelling the sodden whiskey coming off the blonde.”
“So what do you say?”
“Fine.” The chance to figure out how to defeat the demon’s curse was worth a little unpleasantness. “Only a quick one, though. I’m going to need my life force tonight.”
Kingston’s smile widened, and he leaned across, pushing the woman out of the way.
“No.” I shook my head. “After. First you introduce me to Grimstar.”
“After?” He arched away. “I don’t know about that.”
I stood. “That’s your offer. Take it or leave it.” I could hope he was unconscious by the time I’d finished speaking with the necromancer.
“Take it. I’ll take it.” Kingston stood, and staggered away from the table.
I grabbed hold of his shoulder just in time to prevent him crashing into a passing troll. “Where will we find Grimstar?”
“His office.” Kingston nodded toward a door recessed into the far wall, and I guided him to it. Kingston knocked loudly.
“Yes, what is it?” a male voice replied.
“It’s Kingston, I need to talk to you.”
“What about?” The voice wasn’t welcoming. Either Kingston wasn’t as pally with Grimstar as he made out, or Grimstar knew how drunk Kingston was.
I leaned close to whisper in Kingston’s ear. “Tell him he’ll be doing you a great favor by helping me.” I then turned the knob and pushed the door open.
The office was small, with a desk taking up most of the space. Spread across the desk, instead of the usual array of office papers, were assorted spellbooks and old parchments. If the necromancer was a charlatan, it wasn’t from lack of trying. On the other hand, if he wanted his casino to succeed, he needed to concentrate less on old parchments and more on bills and invoices. Dark community businesses required as much accounting and management as any other, oftentimes more.
Grimstar wore a white shirt and waistcoat. His jacket was draped over the back of his seat, and a bowler hat hung on a hat stand in the corner. I had never seen Grimstar before, but I’d heard that, for whatever reason, he liked to dress up as a nineteenth-century gentleman.
“What do you want?” he asked without looking up.
“I asked Kingston to introduce us,” I said. “I need to talk to you.”
He looked up, and a smile spread across his face. “Ah, Alessandra Colescu.” He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair, which emitted a complaining creak. “A pleasure. I’ve met Mortissa and Sistine, but never you.”
Kingston came up behind me, but I pushed him back outside and shut the door. This was the first I’d heard about dealings between the Colescus and Casino Demonica, and it surprised me. We weren’t as big or powerful as some of the other vampire families, such as the Koloffs or Scarpas, but as long as we restricted our operations to the sex trade niche, the other families left us alone. With Sistine running the operation, things must have changed. That meant I hadn’t needed Kingston’s introduction. “I’m here on business of Mortissa,” I said.
“Is this about what happened to Connie?” Grimstar allowed his chair to fall back onto all four legs. “I warned her and warned her. She wasn’t ready.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“It was inevitable. Connie was the most self-destructive character I’ve ever known, and that’s saying something—I run a casino, after all. If it wasn’t the necromancy, it would have been the heroin, or the drink, or getting involved with the wrong man or woman. Or a combination of all of those things.”
“Was? She’s dead?”
“You didn’t know? I sent word to your family. That’s why you’re here, right?”
“Just making sure of the details,” I said, mentally cursing myself. “In our world, dead isn’t always dead.”
“In this case, dead doesn’t do justice to what happened to her.” He grimaced. “She was found with most of her innards and bones missing. Her body was almost flat. Her skin was completely intact, just with nothing inside it except her skull.”
I felt sick thinking about it. “How is that possible?”
“It’s not. Or it shouldn’t be.” Grimstar leaned forward and indicated the books on his table. “I’ve never read of anything like it. Connie’s ability with necromancy was such that she shouldn’t have been able to contact a demon, never mind create such a strong connection that it was capable of that.” Grimstar sounded impressed and intrigued rather than disgusted. “Just incredible, really.”
Perhaps that was why the books filled his desk. He saw Connie’s unusual death as a breakthrough in his field, and he was trying to understand it. “What about her mother’s ability with necromancy?” I asked.
“Do you know, it shouldn’t really be called necromancy. We don’t deal with the dead much. Demonology would be a better name.”
“I don’t care what it’s called.”
“Val was much better than her daughter. Mortissa removed her from the day-to-day operation of the Pink Palace so she could concentrate on both her both hood magic and necromancy.”
Why was I unsurprised that Mortissa was neck deep in what had happened? And she had told me none of this when she’d sent me to find Val. “Would you be able to undo a demon’s curse cast on me by Val?”
“Why would Val—” Grimstar blinked several times, thinking. “I bet Val blames Mortissa for what happened to Connie.”
I nodded. “She does. Can you help me?”
“You’re sure it’s a demon’s curse? Not hood magic?”
“Certain.”
Grimstar paused. “Are you definitely here on Mortissa’s business?”
“Of course. Why?”
“It’s just that Sistine said...It doesn’t matter. Every family has their infighting.” He shook his head. “I can’t undo something that Val did. It’s doubtful even Val has enough control to stop something she set in motion.” He smiled thinly. “Demons have a mind of their own. Once their magic is unleashed—” He spread his arms wide and shrugged.
“There has to be some way.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “If the connection to the underworld is broken...So, for instance, if Val...”
“If she died,” I suggested.
Grimstar nodded. “She doesn’t deserve that, though. She has been Mortissa’s loyal servant for decades. She hated dealing with demons, and only did it because she was ordered to.”
“I don’t want to kill Val.” Would I be allowed that luxury, though? “I need to find her and persuade her to end the curse. Do you have any idea where I can find her?”
“The Pink Palace, perhaps.”
“Where else?”
Grimstar spread his arms wide. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
I needed better than a guess; I needed to find her, and fast. “Thanks for your help.” I made for the door.
“Anything for the Colescus. Necromancers have to work together,” Grimstar said. “Especially now.”
“Of course.” I exited his office, frowning. Grimstar spoke of us as if we were a family of necromancers. Which made little sense, since, just as vampires were unable to even hear the language that mages incanted, we couldn’t communicate with demons. I rapidly crossed the casino floor.
Kingston sprang to his feet and intercepted me. “Forgetting something?”
I groaned. Why couldn’t he have collapsed in a drunken heap already? “I don’t have time for your shit, Kingston.”
“You promised,” he said, a hangdog expression on his face. He truly was pathetic.
“I didn’t need your worthless introduction.”
“You promised,” he repeated.
I ground my teeth. Kingston had lied about how much he could help me with Grimstar, but I still owed him. He’d been the only one I’d been able to confide to about my desire to give up killing. Plus, if I did end up needing to join the Huntleys, I’d need Kingston on my side. “Fine. Be quick.” I dragged him across to a darkened recess, and pulled down the collar of my leather jacket, baring my neck. Hot whiskey-breath filled my nostrils, and I resisted the urge to gag.
“I’ve long dreamed of this moment.”
“Don’t be any more creepy than you have to be,” I muttered. “Just bite.”
I jolted as a sharp pain sunk into my neck. Then, a moment later, my eyes widened, as the pain turned to pleasure. There was a reason vampires had no problem finding humans willing to offer their blood—people craved the ecstatic pleasure a vampire’s bite brought.
It had been a while since I’d allowed myself to be bitten, so I took a moment to savor the feeling, then I pushed Kingston off me. “That’s enough.” Losing blood meant losing life force, losing my magical energy, and I might need all of that before the night was over.
Kingston leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed with pleasure, his fangs elongated, a dribble of blood on his chin. I wiped at the blood on my neck, then lifted my collar to hide the wound, my pleasure quickly turning to a feeling of disgust. I started toward the exit, then stopped.
Lionel stood there, staring at us.