Into the Spotlight (10 page)

“Your shoes?” Malcolm tilted his head.

“My grandmother told me to always put money in my shoes, because if I walked on silver, I’d be able to see the dross.” Her voice tripped on the parched loss, drying her throat. “She had a hundred sayings like that. They all seemed silly or ridiculously clichéd, but they were all true.”

Malcolm shifted, the heat of him abandoning her as he reached to the table between the chairs and poured two glasses of wine. He pressed one into her hand, and she cradled the crystal stem between two fingers.

Her grandmother died during Jeannie’s first year at the Royale. A desperate grief in a sea of lost days and desolate nights. She washed back the lump with a swallow of wine. “Anyway, I had that fifty cents. I walked up and down the strip, trying to come up with an idea, when it hit me, why not try my hand at the nickel slots. I could trade in my quarters for ten nickels. It was a long shot, but I didn’t have a lot of other options.”

“Not an unreasonable assumption.” Malcolm settled himself at her feet, his gaze unwavering. He held the wine, but he didn’t drink it, and when she drained her glass, he replaced it with his. “So you went into a casino.”

“Not any casino, this casino. I came into the Arcana Royale.”

Malcolm frowned, but waved at her to continue when she paused.

“It was June and hot and dusty. I followed this beautiful couple inside and just stood in the lobby, transfixed. You know the Sphinx that’s down there, it’s like it was whispering to me. If I could have deciphered the words, I think it was telling me what I needed to know. I stood there for hours, just listening. After a while, one of the bellmen came up to me and told me I needed to check in or enter the casino. I couldn’t just stand there in the lobby.”

Jeannie drained the second glass of wine. Malcolm took the empty glass and passed her a plate with cheese and apple slices. She popped in a crisp slice and closed her eyes as the sharp, fruity flavor flooded her mouth.

“I hadn’t realized how long I’d been standing there until he told me that. When he did, I realized that my legs were cramping and my feet hurt. I limped into the casino. A waitress brought me a glass of soda water. It was the best drink I’d ever had, and she told me where to go to exchange my quarters. I hated taking them out of my shoes, but I knew I had to. It was my chance. My grandmother would have forgiven me, particularly if it helped get me back on track for Hollywood.” She nibbled on cheese and apple slices in between the words, washing them down with wine.

“Anyway, I got my nickels and then I wandered over to the slots. The casino was full of people and laughter and music and chatter. I didn’t know where to go first, but I saw a woman win on a machine and she was three in, so I went to the next row and chose three in and played that one.”

Malcolm chuckled. “And a gambling superstition is born.”

“Well, or curse, I guess. I played my nickels, three of them and won nothing. So I moved to another row and went three in and played another three nickels and still nothing. I tried another row and when I was down to my last nickel, I walked back to the machine I saw win. I held my nickel up to it, and I whispered a prayer and then I put it in and pulled the slot.”

“And you won.”

“Yes. I won almost thirty dollars. I should have taken the money and headed straight for the bus depot.”

“But you didn’t.” Malcolm’s thumb stroked the inside of her thigh, a gently comforting motion.

“Nope. I was hungry, so I went to get something to eat. But the waitress told me if I was gambling, the drinks and the food were free. So I used the nickels and sat at the slots to play, eating a sandwich and having a soda.”

“How long were you in the casino, Jeannie?” The understanding that slipped under his words melted the barriers she used to guard the memory.

“Weeks.” Tears stung her eyes, shifting his visage into a wavering mirage. “I was always so hungry. I couldn’t stop eating. But I was running low and then I would play a little more. I would eat a little more…”

“…and then you would win a little more.”

“Yes.”

“Until?”

“Until I played my last nickel. I didn’t even realize it was the last until I reached into the little bucket and there were no more.” Jeannie slumped back into the chair, her gaze abandoning Malcolm for the flames in the hearth. “I was so tired. So very tired. One of the waitresses brought me a chit and told me I could spend the night. They called me a big spender, but I couldn’t imagine it and then she said I’d dropped thousands in the casino.

“Thousands,” she whispered again, still scarcely believing it after all these years. “How could it have been thousands? It was only ever in nickels. I thought a room sounded nice, so I took it. I took a bath, I slept and when I got up the next morning, I was ready to take on the world. I was going to get a job, make the money I needed and then get back on the road.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. When I came down to the lobby, the Sphinx was there. I went over to say goodbye and lying there on the edge of the fountain was a nickel.”

Malcolm’s eyes closed, but Jeannie couldn’t let go of the thread, not now that she was running down the corridor of that funhouse memory.

“I took the nickel. I thought ‘what the hell?’ and I played it.”

“And you won.”

“Yes. I won every game I played that day. I won hundreds. I won thousands. I was elated. I was flying. I could book a flight to Los Angeles. I wouldn’t need to take the bus. But first…first I was going to indulge myself with new clothes, another night in a suite and a hot meal.”

“And you spent the money.”

“You seem to know a lot about the casino.”

“I know enough to know that you were human when you walked through the doors,” Malcolm said softly. “You should have been escorted outside and never allowed to play.”

“Where were you fifty years ago?” Jeannie forced a small smile, finishing the last of the food and letting Malcolm take the plate.

“I wish I’d been here. I would have seen you outside.”

She sighed. “Do you need to hear the rest?”

“Yes, please. I need to hear it all.”

She paused, shifting in the chair to undo the golden laces on her legs and freeing her feet from the shoes. Malcolm moved, catching her right foot in his hand and massaging the sole slowly, thumbs working the arch.

“I shopped in the stores here. I had my purchases sent up to my room. I came up, I dined on room service, soaked in a hot bath and dreamed of stardom. At dawn, there was a knock on my door. It was security. They had some questions for me. Apparently another patron misplaced the nickel I picked up at the Sphinx, and they wanted to file charges against my winnings. The argument was that I had won all of that with their nickel and thus all of my winnings were their property. I was given the opportunity to defend myself, but I didn’t have every dime of the money and I couldn’t see how my winnings could be theirs.”

“But the profits of a crime are fruit of the poisoned tree and not yours to claim.”

“That’s what
they
said. So now, my winnings were gone and the Casino claimed I owed them for two nights in the hotel, the food I ate, the clothes that I bought and all the money other patrons might have won had I not been gambling with that nickel. It made my head spin. It didn't make sense and I argued that it was ridiculous. I had no idea about the nickel or anything. It wasn’t my intention to steal it. But apparently because I took it, my intentions didn’t matter. I was responsible for every action that took place after I took the nickel. I was taken before these five people, and I use the term ‘people’ loosely.”

“The Overseers.”

“I guess. I never really saw them, just these figures shrouded in gray. They asked me if I had anything to say for myself and I protested again that I would be happy to pay it all back because it had not been my intention to steal, and they said ‘agreed’ and then I woke up in the Pit. Heidi explained to me how it was going to work, and I’ve spent fifty years performing every night since. I worked my way up from the chorus to the lead. So I guess that’s my
claim
to fame.” Bitterness crept into the shadows of her voice.

“And what happens to you with the dawn?”

“It’s the curse. As a lien against my debt, they have my soul. They have all our souls. We can only be animated at night, when we must give service to pay our debt. During daylight, our humanity is forfeit.” It sounded strange to hear it spoken aloud. So many of the dancers avoided discussing it or even thinking about it. It was simpler to just be, to let each night stand on its own.

It was easier until last night. Jeannie’s gaze stole over to the clock. Just two hours until sunrise. Two hours before her humanity fled and all that remained was the empty, lifeless shell.

“How long is your sentence, darling?”

“One hundred and fifty years.”

“For a nickel?”

Chapter Nine

Malcolm surged to his feet. Quiet rage ran through his veins. Jeannie’s story left a sick flavor inside his mouth. He’d heard the rumors. Everyone had. The Arcana Royale catered to the supernatural community, and in games of power, people were often pawns or commodities. But Jeannie’s humanity should have shielded her from such intense consequences. Unlike Frederick, she’d acted without malice of forethought and without awareness of the punishment that could be wielded against her.

He left her to the wine glass and the fire, exiting the office and striding across the marble-tiled suite. The wealth and expense meant next to nothing. Jerking open the front door, he stared at the sloe-eyed man waiting across the hall.

Stan straightened, his gaze lazy and patient. “It’s not sunrise yet.”

“What is she?”

Jeannie’s scent wrapped around him as she closed the distance behind him. His heart echoed the sliding of her bare feet on the marble. Malcolm braced his arm across the door. Jeannie would stay in. Stan would stay out.

“She’s a showgirl.”

Malcolm bit back the snarl inside his throat. The handler knew what he was asking, he was playing dumb on purpose. “No. What is she that they played the game to trap her?”

“Mal.” Jeannie’s hand was on his arm. The soft shortening of his name plucked at his soul. The muscle in his arm jumped under the featherlight touch. He would do anything for her.

“Wait, sweetheart. We need this answer.” Malcolm never took his eyes off Stan. The man’s mouth twisted into a hint of a smile that never made it northwards to the chilly gaze. “What is she? I know you know. You’re the kind of man who pays attention to these types of details.”

“She’s a nymph.”

Jeannie’s sharp inhale informed him that this was news to her. Malcolm nodded sharply. “Was she targeted from the moment she arrived?”

“Before.” Stan cocked his head to the side, the ice in his eyes shifting, challenging.

“From when she left her home or when the bus broke down?” The hot rage boiling in his veins cooled to icy determination. He had the scent of the hunt. The flavor of the bait. The intent of the trap.

“When she boarded the bus, a recruiter caught her scent. He followed her. When she entered the casino, he took advantage of the opportunity.”

Malcolm growled and was rewarded when Stan’s posture stiffened. The man looked wary.
Smart man.

He nudged Jeannie backward and slammed the door closed. Turning away from the door, he gathered in the reins of his temper. Stan hadn’t needed to tell him the truth, but he had. That suggested an agenda.
But what agenda?

Malcolm despised recruiters. They were master manipulators of the rules, bending the spirit and the intent to suit their own purposes.

She took a long look at his expression and fell back another step. He smothered his anger, because she didn’t deserve it.

“What does Stan mean, I’m a nymph?”

He stilled, allowing admiration to flood over the cold anger brewing in his belly. Her fear was bitter orange in his nostrils, but she didn’t fall back another step, and her chin lifted. Stubbornness gleamed in her summer-green eyes.

She was a remarkable woman.

“Humans didn’t usually enter the Arcana Royale. They were persuaded against it. That’s changed over the years, but then,
then
the glamour at the doors should have turned you away. Yet it didn’t. If a human was able to penetrate the wards, the Sphinx should have ensorcelled you until you could be escorted out. It did hold you captive there in the lobby, but you weren’t escorted out. You were invited in.”

Her throat jerked. “And that means I’m not human?”

“It means not only are you not human, but you were drawn here, lured, driven, herded.” He opened and closed his fists. The dangerous, dark side of the game they all played and the hapless victims caught in their web. He could kill someone for this. “Once inside, the game was to keep you inside. Even if you hadn’t tripped over some gift and burned it away, they would have spurred the entertainment, holding you until you did make a mistake.”

“It was a trap? All of it?” Horror slipped like a shadow over her gaze.

“Yes.” He growled, the tangy citrus of her scent souring on his tongue. He dug his fingers into his palms. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he didn’t trust himself yet.