Silver-Tongued Devil

Book 4: Sabina Kane

by Jaye Wells

Genres: Fantasy

Synopsis

Heralded author Jaye Wells has staked out a treasured place on readers’ shelves with her breathtaking tales of urban fantasy. Silver-Tongued Devil features Wells’ popular creation, heroine Sabina Kane—outcast, assassin, magnet to supernatural species. When a string of murders threatens to stall negotiations between the mages and vampires, Sabina leaps into the fray. But the more she learns, the more she realizes that there are dark forces stirring. And the killer in her sights might be more than capable of shutting her down—for good.

Release date: January 1, 2012

Publisher: Orbit

Print pages: 432

Sample

Blue lights flashed off the undersides of leaves. Off the tall brick buildings. Off the stoic faces of New York’s finest. The cops formed a tight circle around a tarp-covered body next to a Dumpster. Its lid gaped open like the mouth of a shell-shocked witness.

After three months on a steady diet of bagged blood, the aroma of a fresh human kill hooked me by the nose and dragged me toward the crime scene. The humans around me could smell the stink of trash and acid rain and gritty city. But they couldn’t detect the coppery scent that made my fangs throb against my tongue.

Delicious. Seductive. Forbidden.

Bright yellow police tape cordoned off the entrance to the park. Spectators gathered in a tight clutch on the sidewalk along Central Park West. Their morbid curiosity clung to their faces like Greek tragedy masks.

I shouldn’t have paid any attention. I shouldn’t have stopped. And I definitely shouldn’t have pushed my way to the front of the crowd.

But the blood called to me.

A male in a black Windbreaker with the word CORONER on the back lifted the tarp. His expression didn’t change as he surveyed the carnage. He looked up to address the detective and uniformed cops waiting to hear his verdict. “Anyone located the dick?”

A young patrolman lurched his head over the side of the steel box and vomited.

“Hey, rookie, you contaminate my crime scene and I’ll give you something to puke about.”

The white-faced recruit wiped his mouth with his arm. Raised a gloved hand. “Found it.”

“What’s that he’s got there?” The question came from a blue-hair standing next to me.

All around people started voicing guesses.

“Maybe it’s a finger.”

“A toe?”

“That has to be an ear.”

I bit my lip. Giguhl was going to be so mad he missed this. If he’d been there with me, the Mischief demon probably would have said something like, “Sabina, dicks in Dumpsters are no laughing matter.” Then he’d move closer for a better look.

But Giguhl wasn’t there. He was waiting for me to get home. I should go—

The coroner knelt next to the body and frowned. “That’s odd.”

I halted my exit, curious despite my best intentions.

“Dick-ectomies usually are,” the detective replied.

The coroner ignored the joke and frowned. “Considering the extent of the wounds, there should be a lot more blood.”

“You think he was killed somewhere else and dumped here?” the rookie asked.

“Negative.” The detective shook his head. “There are signs of struggle over there.” He pointed to the tree line, where stubs of broken branches littered the ground.

“There’s blood spatter over there, too,” the coroner said, rising. “Just not enough for an arterial wound like this.” He sighed and put his hands on his hips. He scanned the area, as if searching for the answer—or the perp—among the crowd. When that gaze landed on me, I stifled the urge to shy away. To pull my collar higher and duck my head so he wouldn’t see the guilt on my face. But then I remembered that, while I shouldn’t be there, I wasn’t responsible for the human’s death.

Not this time.

But given everything I’d just heard, I knew who was. Or rather, what was responsible.

A vampire.

And a clumsy one at that. Slade was going to be pissed. Especially if the vamp was a new arrival who hadn’t bothered to pay the blood tax. Either way, once Slade found out, there’d be a reckoning. I almost wished I could be there with a bowl of popcorn when he found the guilty party.

But he definitely wasn’t going to hear about the botched kill from me. Vampire politics weren’t my business.

Not anymore.

That reminder shook up a cocktail of emotions. Longing and jealousy mixed with something else. Something about being a spectator to someone else’s kill. Something about secondhand adrenaline leaving me hollow. Something about… loneliness.

A siren demanded attention. The crowd split apart, their eager eyes tracking the arrival of the medical examiner’s van. As I backed away, the phone in my pocket vibrated. Fishing it out, I glanced at the screen.

Shit.

“Hi, Adam.”

“Where are you?” he asked.

Ogling a crime scene. “Across the street.”

“You better hurry. Giguhl is already pacing.”

“Tell him to chill. The concert doesn’t start for an hour.”

In the background, I heard Giguhl’s deep voice asking if it was me on the phone. Adam affirmed the demon’s suspicion. “Tell that misbegotten daughter of Lilith to get her scrawny ass home already. I don’t want to miss Pussy Willow’s opening number!”

Guilt made me cringe. I should already have been up in that apartment, preparing to head out to Vein. Instead, I was standing in a crowd of mortals eyeing a crime scene like a voyeur. “I’ll be up in a sec.”

“Okay,” Adam said. “Love you.”

My stomach jumped. Surprising how those three little words could still pack such a punch. “You too.” I clicked the END button and shoved the phone back in my pocket.

The coroner watched his assistant load the body into a black bag. I couldn’t get past the feeling that the bag looked a lot like one used to collect trash. For some reason the sight made me feel… heavy. Like someone had thrown away a perfectly good life.

I shook my head to clear away the maudlin thoughts. I had a date with a hot mage, a Mischief demon, and a drag queen fae to get to. With a sigh, I turned my back on the bagged body, the eager bystanders, and the scent of blood.

A block or so ahead and across the street, the spires and turrets of Prytania Place loomed. To some, the mage fortress with its gray stone and gargoyles might seem macabre, a Gothic anachronism crouching sullenly between ambitious skyscrapers. But the warm golden lights beaming from all those arched windows and the promise of friendly mage faces waiting inside called me home.

As I walked, bright night eyes peeked from between the leaves and branches of Central Park’s tree line, beckoning me like crooked fingers toward memories of darker times. Back when using humans like fast food was standard operating procedure and my motto was “kill first, avoid questions later.”

But that was then. Now, I shook off the cold fingers of those shadow memories. That old life was over. I was happy now. Settled. Safe. I’d left the cold, blood-soaked world behind in favor of one filled with warmth and magic.

I finally reached the gates set into the base of the building. Entered my code, scanned my hand, spoke into the intercom. The gate popped open and I slipped inside. But I couldn’t resist turning for one last glimpse of the commotion.

A flash of red hair down the block caught my eye. I took a step forward for a better view. She turned her head, giving me a clear view of her face. I didn’t recognize her, but she was definitely a vampire. If the hair hadn’t been a dead giveaway, the smile on her face as she watched the scene told me everything I needed to know. Yes, she was definitely a vamp, but was she also the murderer?

I felt eyes on me, a palpable but unmistakable sensation. Figuring the chick had spotted me, I kept my eyes averted. Acknowledging her presence would be asking for trouble.

Instead, I focused my gaze across the street, where the coroner and his assistant hefted the body bag into their van. Somewhere in the city, a roommate or a partner or a mother expected that dead guy home at any minute. My stomach cramped at the thought of some gray-haired woman learning that her son had been slaughtered and left to rot like garbage. To her, only a monster could discard human life so carelessly. And she’d be right.

Funny. I never used to think of vampires as monsters. Back when I lived as one, human life was no more valuable than a Big Mac. I gripped the small cooler in my hand tighter. The bagged blood inside was more than just sustenance. It represented my new life among the mages, one where I’d learned to control my baser instincts.

So why did my fangs still throb?

The apartment Adam and I shared in Prytania Place sat on the third floor. I opted for the stairs for two reasons. One, the ancient elevator usually took twice as long as hoofing it up the steps. And two, after the crime scene, I needed to work off some excess energy.

Were I human, I might have found the staircase creepy with its dark wooden risers and shit-brown walls. I had no idea why the mages hadn’t updated the decor since the Victorian era, especially since a remodel would require only a few spells.

I climbed the last few steps and pushed open the door to the hall. I’d made it just a few steps when the air shimmered outside my door. The rise of magic made the hairs on my arm prickle. I braced myself and crouched into a fighting stance. Since I was inside the mage stronghold, an attack was unlikely, but the violence I’d just witnessed left me edgy.

Two seconds later, my twin sister materialized. I let out the breath I’d been holding. Her back was to me, so she hadn’t noticed me yet. I took a few cautious steps forward, not wanting to startle her. “Maisie?”

It happened fast. One second, I was reaching out to touch her shoulder. The next, she swung around with a snarl and a flash of fangs. I jumped back, more from surprise than fear. The cooler scuttled across the landing and hit the wall.

“Oh, no!” Maisie gasped, rushing forward to help. “Sabina, I’m so sorry.”

The rage on her face when she’d turned had dissolved into red cheeks and a frown. I forced a smile and made a mental note to make more noise next time I approached her from behind. “Not your fault.”

She bent to grab the cooler. Handing it over, she gave me a wobbly smile.

Please don’t cry.

“Thanks, Maze.”

She nodded and shuffled her feet. Her awkwardness wasn’t a surprise. This was the longest conversation I’d had with my twin in weeks. The silence welled up around us like rising water.

After a few tense moments, we both spoke at once. Our words tangled in the air like alphabet confetti. Self-conscious laughter followed. “You first,” I said.

“I was looking for you.”

“Oh?” My eyebrows shot up. Maisie lived on the top floor, in a penthouse apartment complete with gargoyle guards on her rooftop terrace. Since we’d returned to New York, she’d made that place into a plush hermit’s cave. “Did you need something?”

She shrugged. “Not really. It’s just… been a while. Thought I’d see what you were up to.”

As much as her seeking me out warmed me, my stomach tightened. “I was just going to drop this off.” I raised the cooler. “Why don’t you come in and say hi. I know Adam and Giguhl will be excited to see you.” Without giving her a chance to refuse, I opened the door and shooed her in.

The minute we crossed the threshold, the shit-talking began. “Thanks for joining us, magepire. What the hell took you so long?” This from the seven-foot-tall demon standing in the center of my living room. He tapped a hoof on the hardwoods and shot a glare that would make a lesser woman piss her pants. But when he spotted Maisie, his black lips morphed from a frown into a surprised smile. “Maisie!”

Adam ducked his head out of the kitchen. “Did I hear—” His warm gaze landed on me. Then he saw Maisie and stood straighter. “Wow! It’s so good to see you, Maze.” A chord of tension braided through his overly enthusiastic greeting. He approached her cautiously, like he was afraid she’d run. He reached for her, but she shied away.

She backed against the wall, crossed her arms, and curled into herself, as if buffering her body from the sudden attention. “Hi.” The word was barely above a whisper.

Adam recovered quickly. He changed course and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “Hey,” he whispered. I looked into his eyes and offered a silent apology. His tight smile told me not to worry about it.

“How have you been?” he asked my twin.

She shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

I bit my lip to keep from challenging her claim. True, her frame had lost its heroin-chic thinness and her coloring was better than the ghostly pallor it had been when we’d returned from New Orleans. In fact, she looked better than she had even a week earlier. I took this as a sign that Rhea had convinced her to take her weekly infusion of bagged blood like a good little vampire. Still, her slumped shoulders gave her a brittle appearance and black memories lurked behind her blue eyes.

Back in October, our maternal grandmother, Lavinia Kane—who was also the Alpha of the vampire race—had kidnapped my sister as part of her campaign to start a war between all the dark races. When we’d finally found Maisie inside the crypt that was her prison, she was barely more than a skeleton and out of her mind with bloodlust. I stifled a shudder as memories of that night threatened to take over. I blinked and tried to focus on the here and now. Maisie might be fragile and haunted, but at least she was alive.

We all were, thank the gods. I glanced at Adam as if to reassure myself. Even though Lavinia was dead and the remaining members of the Caste of Nod had been hunted down and killed by the Hekate Council’s Pythian Guards and Queen Maeve’s faery knights, I sometimes caught myself bracing for attack and searching the shadows for threats. Old habits died hard, I guess.

Maisie looked around the room and said, “Where’s Pussy Willow?”

“She’s at Vein doing her sound check,” Giguhl said. “Her first show is tonight.”

“Oh.” Maisie frowned. “I didn’t know.”

Adam and I shared a tense look. We hadn’t specifically decided not to invite Maisie. It’s just that, well, with her pulling the hermit act all the time we’d just assumed she wouldn’t want to go out in public.

“Don’t let me keep you then.” She turned to scurry off.

“Maisie, wait,” I said, jumping forward. “Do you—I mean, I don’t suppose you’d want to go with us, would you?”

She paused with a foot at the threshold, tensed for flight. “I don’t want to intrude on your date.” Something about her tone made my conscience prickle.

Adam stepped up to her. “It’s not a date. We’re all going.”

The hurt drained from her expression. “I don’t know.”

I gritted my teeth. Why was it still so hard to talk to her?

“You should totally come,” Giguhl said. “It’ll be the balls.”

Maisie looked to me for confirmation. “He’s right. Pussy Willow is an amazing performer.” A memory of the first time I’d seen the faery perform at the drag club in New Orleans made me smile. “Her shows are not to be missed.”

Adam shot my twin his trademark Lazarus smile, the one that usually charmed my pants off in five seconds flat. “Come with us, Maze. You’ll love it.”

And then a miracle happened: My sister smiled. Her hand flew up like that smile had escaped despite her best efforts to remain miserable. “It has been ages since I’ve been out.”

I stifled my urge to laugh out of relief and continued as if what she’d just done was a normal thing. “So how about it?”

“I—” She hesitated. “Will there be lots of people?”

I reminded myself to be patient. “Yes, but it’ll be safe. Promise.”

“I’ll be your personal bodyguard,” Giguhl said.

“Sabina’s allowing you to go out in your demon form?” She frowned at him. “Isn’t that kind of risky?”

“No, she’s not.” The demon glared at me. “But don’t worry. I’m a badass attack cat when I need to be.”

I laughed. “Yeah, right. If anyone gives you trouble, he’ll hump their leg like a berserker.”

“Hey! I haven’t humped anyone in months.” The demon pursed his lips. “Anyway, we’d better head out soon.” He shot me a pointed look. “Someone made us late.”

“Sorry, guys,” I said, holding up the cooler. “I ran into some hassle at the blood bank.”

“What happened?” Adam asked.

I sighed. “Just a misunderstanding. They have a new girl on staff who wasn’t aware of my ‘arrangement.’ But we got it worked out.” My “arrangement” being that the bank supplied me with their diseased or almost-expired blood. Yeah, I know. Gross. But it beat the bullshit I used to deal with by feeding from live humans. “Anyway, after that, I got distracted by a crime scene across the street.”

I’d considered not mentioning the murder at all, but (a) only a blind man would have missed the flashing blue lights coming through the wall of windows in the living room and (b) they’d see the scene on the street when we left anyway. Not mentioning it would have been even more cause for speculation.

Giguhl rushed to the window, smelling drama like a bloodhound on the trail of a prison escapee. “Ooh! What happened?”

Adam looked curious, but not overly concerned. This was New York, after all. Crime and the city weren’t exactly strangers.

“They found the body in a Dumpster. Seemed pretty nasty, but I moved on before I could get the whole story.” I forced a casual shrug to cover my evasion.

“Aw, man,” Giguhl said, coming back from the window. “Looks like they’re already wrapping things up. You know I hate missing drama.”

I pushed down my conscience. Giguhl would have loved to hear the sordid details I was keeping to myself, but sharing them now would only open the door for questions I didn’t want to answer.

“Anyway,” I said, and cleared my throat. “I just need to grab a quick pint and we can be on our way.” I opened the cooler and removed a bag of blood. “Maisie? Do you want some?”

Her eyes jumped to the bag of blood I held toward her. She recoiled like I’d offered her a cobra. Her face swung wildly side-to-side. “No!”

Before I’d offered excuses for my tardiness, she seemed fine. Now her complexion had gone ashen and a fine sheen of sweat coated her brow.

“Maze?” Adam said, moving toward her. “What’s wrong?”

I pulled the bag away and hid it behind my back. With my free hand, I reached for her. “Shh. Maisie, it’s okay.”

Her eyes were wild. “I-I can’t.” Magic crawled up my spine. In the next instant, Maisie disappeared.

I watched the spot in shock, my stomach sinking. “Shit.”

“Nice going, Red,” Giguhl said.

“I didn’t mean to—Oh, gods, I didn’t mean to upset her.” My chest clenched with guilt.

“It’s not your fault,” Adam said. But we both knew that was a lie. His stoic gaze met mine. “I thought she was getting better.”

“Are you kidding? That was better,” Giguhl said. “Remember how she was when we first got back from New Orleans?”

Of course we did. I’d been there when Adam pulled the lid off the tomb where our grandmother had confined her. Saw the feral beast lurking behind her gaze after a week of starvation and being fed upon by her own flesh and blood. And all that was before Lavinia unleashed my blood-crazed sister on Adam, a horror that almost resulted in his death. When Maisie finally killed our grandmother, I’d hoped the poetic justice would alleviate some of her guilt over nearly killing Adam, but, if anything, the violence had only intensified Maisie’s issues.

The simple truth was Maisie still needed time. According to Adam’s aunt Rhea, my sister’s condition was what mortals called post-traumatic stress disorder. The physical wounds resulting from her captivity had healed quickly, but three months wasn’t long enough to heal the emotional damage.

“Do you think it was the mention of the murder scene that set her off?” I asked.

Adam shrugged. “Who knows? It could just have easily been the blood.”

Since trying to figure out the source of her distress was a futile endeavor at that point, I didn’t respond. But I did briefly consider going to look for her. However, since I was the one who set her off, I probably wasn’t the best candidate to comfort her.

“Adam, call Rhea and have her check on Maisie.” He hesitated. Clearly he was thinking of going after her himself. But Maisie and Adam had their own issues, which made him almost as bad a choice as me. Finally, he nodded and went to grab the phone. Adam’s aunt was the only mage who knew how to handle Maisie’s… issues.

While Adam went to the kitchen to call his aunt, Giguhl murmured some vague excuse about getting something from his room. I shot him a grateful smile for allowing me a few minutes alone. The last thing I wanted right then was another postmortem about one of Maisie’s episodes.

I grabbed my discarded bag of blood and took it with me to find some solace in the view. One of the things I loved about our apartment was the full wall of old sash windows overlooking Central Park. Usually, gazing out at the park’s shadowed treetops with the sparkling city lights beyond calmed me. But that night, the blue lights demanded my attention. Tried to seduce me down dark serpentine paths.

But I’d seen enough darkness for one night. I turned my back and focused on ignoring the coagulant aftertaste of my meal. Thus far, my night was not amusing me. And frankly, despite my claims to Maisie that Pussy’s show would be fun, I was so not looking forward to going. But I didn’t have a choice. Pussy Willow was my friend and I wanted to support her. Besides, if I begged off, I knew I’d just sit around all night brooding about my twin.

“Rhea promised to check on her and give me an update,” Adam said, returning from the kitchen. I nodded and speared another bag with my fangs. I used my full mouth as an excuse to avoid talking about what had just happened.

“Red?” Adam’s tone was quiet, careful.

I swallowed the last few drops and lowered the empty bag. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

My first instinct was to fire back with a caustic retort. But this was Adam. He’d see right through it. “I just never know what’s going to set her off.”

“She’s going to be okay. Eventually.”

I blew out a shaky breath. “Maybe I need to get Rhea to teach me a patience spell.”

The mancy chuckled and wrapped his arms around me. “Red, there are some things even magic can’t fix.”

I thought about my sister, the once vital, earthy female who used to paint her dreams and loved to laugh. “Tell me about it.”

Getting to Vein was something straight out of a spy movie. Adam flashed us to the alley behind a hole-in-the-wall Chinese joint in Hell’s Kitchen. To the dark races, this area was known as the Black Light District, where vampires, mages, werewolves, and faeries came to indulge their favorite vices. Vein served as headquarters for the BLD, and its owner, Slade “The Shade” Corbin, ran prostitutes, drugs, and the dark-races underworld out of the club.

As usual, I was thankful for Adam’s skills with interspatial travel that allowed me to avoid public transportation. I might not feed off humans anymore, but that didn’t mean I wanted to press up against them in a tin can hurtling through a dark tunnel. I kept asking Rhea to teach me how to travel magically, too, but she held me off, saying I needed more experience in basic magic.

Once we arrived, I hefted my large tote bag up on my shoulder. The ugly canvas thing didn’t go with my black ensemble at all, but it made lugging my hairless cat demon around town easier.

“We need to put you on a diet, Mr. Giggles,” I complained.

A blue knit cap and two batlike ears appeared over the top of the bag. “Bite me, magepire.”

I rolled my eyes. Giguhl was always so bitchy in his cat form. Probably because of the ridiculous sweaters and cat toboggans he was forced to wear to protect his hairless body from the frigid New York winter.

Adam crossed his arms. “Are you two done? We’re running late.”

I held a hand toward the entrance of Pu Pu Palace. “Lead the way.”

Adam shook his head as he passed me to the entrance. The place held maybe six tables out front. When we entered, the few mortal customers kept their heads bent over bowls of steaming noodles and General Tso’s chicken. Slade must have paid the owner of the restaurant well to not notice the parade of vampires, mages, and faeries who came through the restaurant on a nightly basis. Although, knowing Slade, he’d bought the original owner out and kept the restaurant running as a front for his more illicit businesses.

We went back through the swinging door to the kitchen. Peanut oil droplets and the scent of MSG and mystery meats hung heavy in the air. The cooks sweated over large woks and prattled in a steady stream of Cantonese.

I grabbed an egg roll off a plate and dropped it in the bag for Giguhl to make up for my comment about his weight. A muttered “thanks” reached my ears over the kitchen racket. Adam opened the door to the walk-in freezer and shooed me in. I closed it behind us and pulled the lever to open the hidden passage. Two minutes later, we’d made our way down the stairs and into the tunnel that led to the entrance of Vein.

The regular bouncer, a Mohawked vampire named Joe, sat on the stool. Word of PW’s show must have spread because the line to get in was ten beings deep. Since Adam and I were regulars, Joe waved us past the line. A few disgruntled mutters rose from those who had to wait. I ignored them and high-fived Joe as we passed.

Earl, Vein’s fanged barkeep, was busy filling drink orders for the large crowd who’d turned out for Pussy Willow’s New York debut. I waved to get his attention and held up three fingers. Earl wasn’t exactly the chatty type, but he did deign to nod vaguely in my direction. The move was both a greeting and an acknowledgment that he’d send our drinks over to the table. After the night I’d had so far, I briefly considered changing my regular beer for a double Bloody Magdalene, but knew the move would only earn me The Look from Adam. On the bright side, the beer would go a long way to help scrub the chemical taste of coagulant from my tongue, courtesy of the pint of bagged blood I’d chugged earlier.

Adam beelined for our usual spot—a booth along the back wall that gave us a perfect view of the stage. I scooted in and opened the canvas bag. Giguhl leapt out and onto the vinyl banquette, the move knocking his blue cap askew.

“Ahem?”

“What?”

“You don’t really expect me to hang out in this hairless carcass, do you?”

I removed a set of sweatpants from the bag and rose again with a sigh. “We’ll be right back.”

Carrying the cat under one arm, I made my way through the crowd toward the bathrooms. Ignoring the speculative glances from the females in line for the ladies’ room, I went to the men’s door. I pushed it open and tossed the cat and the pants inside. Leaning against the wall, I crossed my arms. “Giguhl change forms,” I called out loud enough to be heard inside to the john.

Two seconds later a pop sounded. Green smoke wafted under the door, bringing with it the scent of rotten eggs and urinal cakes.

“What the fuck!” a deep male voice shouted from inside. “Keep that thing away from me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Giguhl responded in a bored tone. “You couldn’t handle The Pitchfork.”

The door burst open and a very large, very pissed-off werewolf exited. As the door swung closed, I was treated to an unsavory view of naked demon ass as Giguhl pulled on his sweatpants. And here I was thinking I was clever for making him change forms in the bathroom. If I didn’t know better I’d think Giguhl enjoyed flashing me. Which was likely, considering he was a Mischief demon.

Two seconds later, the seven-foot-tall, green-scaled, black-horned demon emerged. He wore a pair of faded black sweatpants that ended a good six inches above his hooves. He looked ridiculous, but it was better than sitting next to a naked demon all night.

“Did you have to antagonize the werewolf?” I asked.

“That’s a rhetorical question, right?”

I rolled my eyes and pushed his shoulder. “C’mon, the show’s starting soon.”

As we walked back to the booth, I bumped shoulders with a familiar mage. He stopped when he recognized me. “Oh, sorry, Sabina.”

I waved away his apology. “Hey, Marty. No worries.”

“What up, homeslice?” Giguhl raised a claw to high-five the mage, who we knew casually from around Prytania Place. He was some sort of low-level administrator for the Council, but a nice enough guy.

Marty smiled and slapped Giguhl’s claw. “You up for another round of hoops, G? I want a chance to win back that twenty you took off me last time.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Giguhl said, and laughed.

We said our good-byes to Marty and headed back to our seats. Cinnamon, one of Slade’s nymph waitresses-slash-prostitutes, had delivered our drinks while we were gone. Giguhl dropped onto the bench and chugged down half his beer. When he paused for a breath, a loud belch escaped his black lips.

“Nice, G.” Adam raised his own drink to cover his smile.

“I can’t help it,” the demon said. “I’m so nervous for Pussy Willow.”

“Why?” I asked. “She performed all the time in New Orleans.”

Giguhl shot me a bitch-please look. “Yeah, but that was lip-synching. She’s been practicing her vocals but she’s still really nervous.”

“Wait,” I said. “You mean she’s actually going to sing?” I exchanged a worried look with Adam. He shook his head slightly. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who thought there might be a very good reason PW used to lip-synch during her drag shows.

The demon nodded and took a nervous sip of his beer.

“So how’s the Roller Derby stuff going, G?” Adam asked, deftly changing subjects before Giguhl could work himself up into