Eventually, Dill slurped the last of his drink and stretched. “You think we should go back and see if they turned into werewolves or something?”
“Might as well.”
They found the three vampires sitting around the coffee table, playing cards.
“Everything’s fine, then?” Gabe asked.
“Perfectly dull and ordinary,” Harvey proclaimed with a happy smile.
Stan yawned.
The weather got cold enough to freeze hell over by the time Gabe’s next meeting with Victor Augustine rolled around. During his years in Europe, he had almost forgotten the fierceness of Chicago winters. They had no snow yet, but the wind was brutal. At least Augustine’s office felt warm and cozy. A couple of logs crackled in the fireplace. They had to be there either for his benefit or visual effect, as vampires had a higher tolerance for extreme temperatures.
Gabe stretched out in his chair to absorb as much warmth as he could before going outside again. He carefully went through the contents of the envelope Augustine had handed him. He found two sets of plane tickets—one set from Chicago to San Francisco. Another from San Francisco to Las Vegas. It puzzled him until he found the two California drivers licenses—one for him and one for Harvey. Correction, for Wade Fox and Arlie Hagen. He gave Augustine a quizzical look.
“I believe Ellie and Mr. Feng came up with those names together,” Augustine explained.
It came as no surprise to Gabe—Harvey had been busier than an entire beehive since learning about the trip. Gabe had been happy to let Harvey deal with the preparations and protested only when Harvey dragged him to a tailor for fitting his Vamp Con costume. His objections had been noted and overruled.
He looked at the cards again. “Not bad. First names that are similar sounding to our real ones. I’m starting to feel like a spy.”
“You’re not far from the truth. Your assignment requires the utmost discretion. I’m putting a great deal of trust in you.”
“Understood.”
“Good.”
Gabe saw a couple of cell phones, credit cards and cash too. He stuffed them back into the envelope. He held up a sheet of paper with the name and address of a Las Vegas hospice.
“Is this where you think our guy is getting his fix?”
“So my sources say. You’ll need assistance.” From his inside breast pocket, Augustine pulled out a business card and handed it to Gabe. The black, rectangular piece of paper bore the gold-embossed address of a Las Vegas business.
“Gun World?” Gabe asked.
“Go there, ask for Hector and hand him this card. Do not talk to anyone else. Hector will be your local contact—he’ll help you with information, weapons if needed. However, you should not reveal your real identity or connection to me, even to him.”
“We are to remain undercover the whole time. Got’cha.”
Gabe wouldn’t admit it, but a part of him got rather excited over all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. It got even better. Augustine passed to him another piece of paper, this time with nothing more than an eight-hundred number written on it.
“Memorize the number. When you call it, ask for Ruby Rose. Whatever you say to her will reach me. I will require regular status updates. You can also call that number in case of an emergency. Never call me directly. In fact, don’t make any calls to Chicago. After every call, erase the record. You’ll need to leave your usual cell phones behind, but keep the ones I’ve given you on you all the time.”
Once Augustine was done giving his instructions, he remained silent, giving Gabe a chance to fix the phone number into his memory. Fortunately, he had a few mental tricks to aid him.
He put the paper aside on the table. They hadn’t yet talked about the most important aspect of the job. “When I find this vampire…James Hill, what do you want me to do with him?”
Augustine focused his piercing gaze on Gabe. “First, you’ll need to interrogate him and find out if there’s anyone else who knows about his taste for dirty blood.”
“Then?”
“Then you kill him.”
Gabe was surprised only by the bluntness of the words. Augustine had a way of stringing together serpentine sentences. Normally, it didn’t bother Gabe, but in this case, he was grateful for the directness.
“It’ll be done,” he promised.
Harvey and Gabe arrived at the Las Vegas airport in the middle of the night a couple of days later.
“Oh look!” Harvey practically squealed, pointing at the bank of one-arm bandits sitting next to the baggage carousel.
“It’s Vegas, baby.”
“Genius! Every place you have to sit and wait should have slot machines—the DMV, dentist’s office, Laundromat…”
“Around here, they probably do.”
They headed to the car rental counter, and half an hour later, they were cruising down the strip in their rented SUV. Even at that hour, the streets were choked with traffic.
“You like these kind of cars, don’t you?” Harvey asked.
Gabe knew where Harvey was going with the question but wasn’t going to let on. “They’re practical. I prefer them in black, but silver is probably more sensible in the desert. I’m glad it has tinted windows at least.”
“We could buy one when we get back to Chicago,” Harvey said with calculated casualness.
Gabe pretended to consider the idea. “We could trade in yours. You don’t use it much anyway.”
“I don’t use my car because you always borrow it,” Harvey sputtered.
Gabe tried to look innocent, but he couldn’t quite stifle a smirk.
Harvey noticed. “Oh, you asshole! You know I just want my car back.”
Gabe straightened his face and kept on driving. These moments of domesticity crept up on him with alarming frequency. He and Harvey had a good rapport, that was all, he told himself.
The convention was scheduled in one of the older hotels. On the scale of shabby to swanky, it settled around the middle, but its central location on the strip and the reasonable room rates made it a good choice for Vamp Con. Harvey and Gabe staying there made sense, as most of the Con people did. Good for blending in.
As soon as they got to their room, Gabe made a beeline for the shower. The long plane trip left him feeling grimy. He’d been aware of Harvey’s horniness since they had gotten out of the elevator. Harvey’s desire rippled through his senses—a deeply visceral sensation that never failed to make him hard.
Harvey took the soap and washcloth and with meticulous care, scrubbed Gabe’s shoulders and back. Soon the motions became sensuously slow. As the washcloth plopped into the tub, Harvey’s fingers stole between Gabe’s cheeks. Gabe widened his stance and braced his hands on the tiles. Harvey was the first and only man he’d ever let fuck him. It was only sex, and it felt good, so he had no reason to make a big deal out of it. Although, he couldn’t imagine bending over for anyone else. He tensed up as Harvey’s fingers brushed against his hole, but he knew Harvey would take time to relax him.
However, at this occasion Harvey was after something else. “Turn around, Angel,” he said.
When Gabe did, Harvey pulled him close. Their cocks pressed together, trapped between their bodies. Harvey’s lips traveled on Gabe’s wet skin from a nipple to the curve of the neck. Feeling a fresh pang of Harvey’s craving, Gabe tilted his head out of habit, but Harvey only planted a kiss there.
Harvey hadn’t bitten him in almost a month, and he figured it was for the best. At times, more often than he cared to admit, Gabe missed the rush, but if Harvey could exercise self-control, so could he. No alarming new symptoms of their…whatever they had surfaced since. Sex was still good. Normal. He could still feel Harvey and Harvey’s moods as before, if not stronger.
Gabe squirted shampoo on his hand and took hold of their cocks. Harvey threaded his finger into Gabe’s hair and covered Gabe’s lips with his own. For a while, the only thing to be heard was the splashing water, the wet, squelching sounds of sex, and their heavy breathing. Their climaxes left them with a soggy but pleasant exhaustion.
“Let’s go out,” Harvey suggested as they were toweling themselves dry.
Gabe studied his own visage in the mirror. “I should shave. These whiskers you made me grow make it more of a chore.”
“But they make you even sexier. One has to suffer for beauty. Plus they go so well with your costume.”
“Are you sure you didn’t go overboard with the costumes?” Gabe asked.
As soon as Harvey had heard they’d be going to Vamp Con, he’d not only dragged Gabe to a tailor but also forbade the shaving of his sideburns.
Harvey gave him a pitying look. “Overboard? Not by a mile. These people live for dressing up. You’ll see. I wish I’d had more time to prepare.” Harvey wrapped a towel around his waist and snatched the razor from Gabe. “Oh, let me do it. Sit.”
Gabe put the toilet lid down and parked his ass on it. Eyes closed, he let Harvey rub shaving cream on his face and proceeded to scrape off the unwanted stubble.
“I was thinking we should approach this assignment like one of our role-playing games,” Harvey said while working.
What was it with barbers and dentists always chatting away when you couldn’t respond? Gabe wondered. Of course, he couldn’t say it, so he hummed.
Harvey went on. “I thought, instead of being two nerds from San Francisco, we are actually two secret agents playing being nerds.”
Gabe opened his eyes, and Harvey lifted the razor to let him speak.
“How’s it playacting, then?” Gabe asked.
“We’re not ourselves but agents of a super hush-hush government organization.”
“Isn’t it overcomplicating the whole thing?”
“Not at all. Wade and Arlie are clueless; however, the agents playing them need to keep their eyes open for all the suspicious covert stuff going on.
Gabe was quiet for a moment while he thought it over. “Okay.”
“Good. Now tilt your head back and stop fidgeting.”
For their first night, they wore only their plain tourist personas, no fancy costumes. Neither of them had been to Las Vegas before, and Gabe realized he’d never been any place like it either. The Strip glittered like a twisted, alternate-universe version of Disneyland. Every hotel and casino had been built as a caricature of a different style, place or era. Paris sat next to ancient Rome, with Venice across the road. Bright, flashing lights and a cacophony of sounds fused them all together. The incessant jangle of slot machines provided the background music. It was wrong, bizarre and absolutely exhilarating.
“I can understand why people like me would want to come to this town,” Harvey said, surveying the throngs of people of all colors, sizes and ages roaming about.
“Plenty of nightlife and an ever-changing buffet? Do you like it here?”
“I don’t know if I could stand it full time. I suspect Vegas is best in small doses. C’mon, let’s lose some money.”
The crowds jostled up and down the streets. On the corners, people stood, handing out glossy cards and flyers advertising strip clubs to every and any interested passerby. Electronic billboards barraged them with commercials for various shows.
When they’d left Chicago, cold winds had torn at them, the weather dithering between rain and snow. In comparison, the forty-something nighttime temperatures of Vegas felt outright balmy.
After some gawking, they popped in and out of casinos, randomly trying their luck with the slot machines, craps and roulette. Harvey won a handful of coins on slots, but he fed them all back into the machine till there were none left. They didn’t stick with anything long and managed to lose only a few hundred dollars of Victor Augustine’s money. Gabe was aware of other vampires around, but they were hard to pinpoint in the ever-moving crowd, and he wasn’t trying very hard. He and Harvey wandered back into their hotel and fell into bed just before dawn.
When Gabe opened his eyes the next evening, he saw Harvey looming over him.
“You dreamed of flying above a forest,” Harvey said.
Gabe rubbed his face and remembered—yes, he did.
Fuck.
It was a nice dream. “You did too?”
“I liked it. I’d almost forgotten what dreams are like. Number three on my list of things I miss most from before.”
The joyful sensation emanating from Harvey went a long way toward dissolving Gabe’s dread. It would be okay; the residual effects of blood-feeding would clear up eventually. Meanwhile, he’d better concentrate on the task ahead.
Being winter, the sun had gone down early. Gabe had to leave his weaponry behind in Chicago, seeing as they only had carry-on luggage. Airport security would’ve probably thought he’d planned to hijack the plane using sharpened wooden sticks. However, he’d smuggled on a couple of lengths of Vectron ropes disguised as fastenings of a windbreaker he’d bought solely for this purpose. He slipped them out and into the inside pocket of his leather jacket before heading out.
As first order of business, they checked in with Vamp Con. Fortunately, the organizers took the children-of-the-night bit seriously, scheduling most of their events from evening till midnight. A girl all in black—except for her bright red contact lenses—handed them the badges and bags containing schedules and other printed materials.
They stopped at Johnny Rockets for dinner. While Gabe wolfed down his burger and onion rings, Harvey studied the conference schedule.
“The vendor booths are open till midnight. Don’t suppose we’ll get back in time,” he said with a note of disappointment.
“Probably not. What would you want to buy, anyway? We already got the retractable fangs for me.” Gabe shook his head just thinking of the things. He’d had no idea such stuff existed till Harvey had surprised him with them. The fake fangs looked fairly realistic, and a small lever he could operate with his tongue made them go up and down. Getting them fitted had been a bit of a fuss.
Harvey observed him head tilted, eyes glinting. He had a way of looking at Gabe that made the tips of Gabe’s ears burn. “You’re a sexy brute, you know,” he said with fondness.
Gabe quickly cast his eyes back to his onion rings. He never knew how to respond to such open—and not to mention public—declarations of affection, but they worried him. Maybe Augustine should be more concerned about Harvey than him.