Calling the Wild Page 23

It was a testament to how plush their suite was that he could stand upright in most areas. They weren’t staying the in main pyramid, but in one of the towers behind it. Their suite was the shape of an orange slice, half of an entire floor of the tower. Moira stood at the curved panoramic glass that wrapped the living area.

  Their view from this room swept over the sprawl of the city of Vegas to the desert beyond, while the view from the bedroom showed the famous Vegas strip in all its brightly lit glory. What she really wanted was a view of the black glass pyramid.

  Like a ghost at the edges of her vision Moira could feel the amulet. The strength of her connection frightened her.

  Kiron came up behind her, his hands sliding through her black-once-more hair, too tall in his centaur form to reach her waist, which seemed to be his favorite rub-for-comfort spot on her.

  “What worries you?”

  “You were right.”

  “Of course I was. What about?”

  He was trying to coax a smile from her, and Moira turned and gave him a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

  “I am frightened of the connection I feel to the amulet.”

  “Tell me.”

  Moira lay on the bed, going over her feelings once more, while Kiron paced slowly across the room, his hooves thumping the floor, even through the plush carpet.

  “This is unusual, that is certain, but I have never known someone to be questing for the Dark Prophecies. It could be that the very act of embarking on the quest has influenced you. We need more information.”

  “Ha. Now you’re on my side. I told you all I wanted was information.”

  “Is there anything in the grimoires you brought with you?”

  Moira handed the books over, which she’d brought in the duffle bag, grimacing slightly as she did so. There was no reference to the Dark Prophecies in them, but there were descriptions of people and events that she suspected were the Dark Prophecies. The list they’d discovered in the museum confirmed her theory. When they had erased the Dark Prophecies from the grimoires, they must have only erased direct references.

  Kiron continued pacing, grimoire open on one arm. Moira just watched him. When he was thinking hard he frowned and rubbed his fingers over his right eyebrow, when he was surprised his eyebrows crept up his forehead, and when he was reading, he pinched his lower lip between forefinger and thumb.

  “Kiron.”

  It took a moment for him to draw his attention away from the book, but when he did, he looked at her with complete concentration, focusing on her.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For this, for being with me, so I didn’t have to be alone.”

  He closed the grimoire, preparing to come to her, but Moira stopped him. “No, please keep reading, I just wanted to tell you that.”

  He looked her over, and Moira hoped she didn’t look as pathetic as she felt, curled on the bed, heart on her sleeve. He nodded and then turned back to the grimoire, but it was a long time before he flipped a page.

  Lunch/brunch arrived, and Moira answered the door, after deactivating the boundary spell, while Kiron hid out of sight. Two bellmen wheeled three carts into the living room. She caught one of the bellman giving her a sidelong glance, and Moira had to stop herself from yelling, “I didn’t order it!”

  Kiron, now dressed and human, sunglasses firmly in place, strolled into the room. He wore the slacks from last night, but was bare-chested, his skin glowing like gold in the desert sunlight. He looked at the carts and smiled, shoulders dropping in relief. If Moira hadn’t felt guilty before, she did now. He was starving.

  Moira reached for the room-service check, but Kiron took it and casually sprawled a signature across the check.

  “Would you tip the men, darling?” Kiron turned to face her, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

  “Of course.” She rummaged in her purse for two twenties, handing one to each bellman. After closing the door, Moira pressed her hand to the doorframe and reactivated the boundary spell, which hissed into place.

  Kiron waited for her beside the table, his glasses tossed carelessly onto the bed.

  “Eat, eat,” she encouraged, quickly taking a seat so he would do the same.

  Kiron sat and pulled a plate of bacon and eggs towards him. Moira was overwhelmed by the urge to feed him. She filled glasses with orange juice and buttered him some toast.

  Moira didn’t think she was hungry, but when he pushed a plate of salmon Eggs Benedict in front of her, she dug in with gusto.

  They polished off the food in relative silence, Kiron topping off his bacon and eggs with a waffle, steak and eggs, and gallons of juice. Moira, feeling guilty after the fatty breakfast, ate the fruit garnish, some toast and a cup of yogurt.

  Food coma settled in, and they both staggered to the bed, curling around each other like milk-stuffed kittens.

  Moira yawned, too tired to be worried that they hadn’t really done anything to find the amulet yet. Just before she fell fully asleep, Moira was struck by a dark foreboding that this might be the last peaceful time they would know.

  “Stop snarling at the tourists.”

  “Then make them stop looking at me.”

  “I can’t, you’re gorgeous.”

  “I am not flattered to be found attractive by warped human standards.”

  “Why not? That’s why I’m sleeping with you, because you’re pretty.”

  “Not for my charming personality?”

  “‘Charming’ is not the word I would use for you.”

  “I’m hurt.”

  “No you’re not. Are you looking?”

  “I’m looking, but there is little use as we do not know what we are looking for.”

  “We should be able to see it with magic.”

  Moira kept her voice low, but the people around them in line didn’t even look over. Apparently in Vegas a conversation between and centaur and a witch about a magic amulet didn’t even merit a first look.

  The kids in line behind them bumped into Kiron again, and his hands curled into fists.

  “Calm down,” Moira thread her arm through Kiron’s, petting his forearm. “They’re just kids.”

  “They are touching me.”

  Smothering an unsympathetic snicker, Moira kept her arm through Kiron’s, tugging him with her as the line inched forward. Since waking from their nap a few hours ago, they’d been wandering the hotel. Moira had been sure that she would be able to feel the amulet and go right for it, but the feeling was the same everywhere, with no telltale change in intensity.

  After an hour and a half of frustration, they’d gone to the concierge and picked up a book detailing the amenities of the hotel. There were quite a few good possibilities, from the casino to the shops, but one possibility in particular caught her attention.

  The hotel boasted a replica of King Tut’s tomb. What better place to hide an amulet than in the tomb of a king? The tomb was a tourist draw, as the line they waited in attested to.

  When they reached the front they turned in their tickets, exchanging them for headsets, and wandered into the dramatically lit tomb. A wave of dizziness swept over Moira, and she clung to Kiron’s arm. He pushed her headset off, his own down around his neck.

  “What do you feel?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  May the goddess—

  “Moira!”

  —raise me and lift me up. Let me ascend into heaven, let that which I command be performed in—

  “Kiron,” she whimpered, the sound of her voice lost to the words pounding through her mind.

  The world spun dizzily around her, so Moira closed her eyes, sounds fading in and out like badly mixed audio.

  —my Heart-soul shall not be kept a prisoner in my body at the gates—

  “Get…me out.”

  “I am trying,” his voice was grim, and Moira could vaguely hear gasps from spectators around them.

  —and I take my seat upon the place by the sid
e of the great wind of heaven.

  Arid air washed over Moira, seeping through her clothes to touch her skin. The voices in her mind receded, and she lifted her head from where she’d buried it against Kiron’s neck.

  “Moira?”

  “I’m okay.”

  He lowered her legs to the ground, though he kept her upper body tight to his. They were standing on the walkway that let Vegas-goers pass between the Luxor and Mandalay Bay.

  “What happened?”

  “There was this voice in my head, but it was so loud it was… as if that one voice was actually a million people.”

  “What did it, they, say?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You could not understand them?”

  “I did, when they were speaking, but now I can’t.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know.” Moira pressed her hands to her face, hating herself for the panicked note that crept into her voice. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, and then tried to explain. “It wasn’t English, but when I heard the words I knew what they meant, as if I could speak that language.”

  “Can you remember any of the words?”

  “No specifically,” she was calmer now, and able to recall bits and pieces. “It sounded like a prayer. It, they, talked about a going to heaven, and the great wind of heaven.”

  She shivered, despite the powerful late-afternoon desert sun beating down on her, and Kiron rubbed the small of her back.

  “There’s more,” she whispered, tipping her head to his chest.

  “Tell me.”

  “I know the exact dimensions of the tomb. I know what was in it, I know when it was robbed and how many men there were.”

  Kiron pushed her away to look down into her face, reaching up to rub his thumb over the line between her brows.

  “Do you think it was the amulet?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure, but what else could it be?”

  “That is a very good question.”

  “We need to go back, maybe if I stand just outside the door and you go in…”

  Over Kiron’s shoulder, through the vegetation that lined the path, Moira could see something moving down the strip. Grabbing Kiron’s hand, she dragged him closer to the road to give them a better view. Kiron’s hand clenched around hers and a bubble of nearly hysterical laughter escaped Moira.

  “Is that…?” Kiron asked.

  “Yep, it’s the MGM lion.”

  Moving down the street, massive paws straddling the median, was the MGM lion—an angular rendering of a lion that guarded the MGM Grand. The lion was not solid, it wavered, as if it were made of heat vapors.

  Cars zoomed through its massive paws, and humans wandered down the sidewalk, ignorant of the massive animated architectural element.

  “Now would be a good time to go inside.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  At that moment the flat planes where the lion’s eyes should have been focused on them.

  “Run,” Kiron commanded.

  As one, they whirled and raced back to the Luxor. Moira risked a glance over her shoulder. The lion was right behind them, one ghostly gold paw raised and headed right for them. Moira yanked Kiron to the side.

  They both fell, rolling across a small strip of grass and into a bush.

  “It’s fast,” Moira gasped.

  “And quiet.”

  “We’re screwed.”

  “Let us wait until this beast is not chasing us, then we’ll screw.”

  “Ha ha. Any ideas?”

  “Run.”

  “That’s not working.”

  “Not as humans.”

  “You’re going to change?”

  “Yes, but I am faster as a horse then as a centaur.” As the last word left his lips Kiron rolled onto his hands and knees, a waterfall of white sparks falling over him. Moira backed away as he grew, then sprang up, running a hand down his side. The black stallion knelt, and Moira scrambled aboard. Hoping she didn’t hurt him Moira tangled her fingers in his mane, then yelped and flattened herself along his neck when the lion’s paw swept out, skimming along the top of the bush, which was not tall enough to hide them any longer.

  Kiron leapt from the bush, branches raking down his sides and over her legs. A second sparkle of magic fell over them, and when she looked, Kiron was just as ghostly as the lion.

  His canter became a gallop, then a full run, his hooves pounding into the cement as he wove between strolling humans. The lion was standing in place behind them, balanced on three legs as he swiped at them with a forepaw.

  Kiron closed the distance between them and the pyramid with dizzying speed, cantering under the overhang before stopping. Moira turned to look at the lion, one hand on Kiron, the other tangled in his mane.

  “Quick, do you have the sword?”

  Kiron tapped his hoof once.

  “Is one tap yes or no?”

  He tapped it again.

  “Okay, we’re adding learn-Morse-code to our to-do list.” Heart thumping, Moira swung her leg over and jumped down, landing bent-kneed. The lion’s front paws were planted less then twenty feet from where they stood.

  “What’s it doing? Its paw can probably go right through the building.”

  Kiron shook off the last of his transformation and pulled the sword from the scabbard at his back.

  “Let us find out.”

  Before Moira could stop him he darted out from under the overhang, planting himself firmly on the path, which was blessedly free of spectators. The lion raised its paw and swiped at Kiron, who spun away. The lion swiped again and again, Kiron avoiding him, though there were a few close calls.

  Little by little, Kiron worked himself back towards the overhang. The closer he got, the longer the pauses between the lion’s swipes.

  “Do you see the same thing I do?” he asked, ducking what appeared to be a rather half-hearted swing.

  “The lion can’t touch the building.”

  “Exactly, it almost seems afraid.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it means we’re safe inside.”

  Kiron watched the lion, keeping the sword at the ready as he backed up to where Moira was. The lion went still, as if the plug on the animation had been pulled, and then faded away, disappearing in the desert air.

  “That wasn’t too bad,” Kiron commented, slipping the sword back into place. He wore a pair of loose drawstring pants, and his bare chest was shiny with sweat.

  “I don’t want to know what your definition of ‘bad’ is.”

  “The water monsters were bad.”

  “Good to know that you think the monstrous beasts that almost killed both of us were bad.”

  “We were far from almost killed, but they were bad.”

  Moira leaned against the wall, letting her heartbeat slow, grinning at Kiron, enjoying their banter. Slowly the ramifications of the lion sank in.

  “They know we’re here. That lion was some variation of the magic they use to animate gargoyles.”

  Kiron’s half smile slid away, and he sobered, nodding in agreement. Moira pressed her hand over her suddenly tight stomach.

  “We’re out of time, I need to get that amulet. Now.”

  “Should we go back to the fake tomb?”

  “No, this time I’m going to be smart. If this amulet is as powerful as it feels, someone knows where it is, I just need to find him or her.”

  “How? You are right, the longer we stay here the greater the chance that our guard will slip, or that the lion will find a way in.”

  “I need my phone.”

  Ten minutes later they were back in the hotel room. Moira stripped down to her bra and panties, her jeans and shirt both tossed into a corner. Her wardrobe hadn’t stood up to the rolling around on the ground, and each garment sported long tears. Kiron had made himself invisible for their walk into the hotel, but Moira had been forced to make her way to their room in her dishe
veled garments.

  She wondered what it said about Vegas that more people had given her funny looks because she wasn’t dressed to the nines, than had when she and Kiron openly discussed magic and amulets.

  Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Moira looked at Kiron, who was in centaur form, frantically reading through the grimoires. He looked like a worried freshmen cramming for finals, but Moira doubted there was anything in the books that could help them. Despite that, she understood why he did it. It was something to do, a distraction.

  Marginally relaxed because the boundary spell was securely in place and her enemies seemed to be blocked from entering the hotel, Moira turned her attention to her cell phone.

  “Speak,” the soft male voice murmured.

  “Drak.”

  “Is this the lovely, luscious, Moira?”

  Even from three thousand miles away Moira could practically smell the sticky sweet smoke.

  “Drak, I need some information.”

  “More information? I don’t know why I should give that to you, Moira, you and I are not friends.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You left me, Moira, you let me have a taste and then you left me.”

  “Why are you upset?”

  “I crave you.” His voice trailed away and then he giggled, a long irritating stoner giggle. “Every time I jack off I think of you.”

  “That’s lovely. Thank you so much for sharing that with me.”

  “I want to taste you again, Moira, my lovely, lovely Moira.”

  “Drak, focus. Do you know anyone in Vegas?”

  “I might, if you tell me I can taste you again, but this time I want to see you, all of you.”

  “No deal, Drak, just be a pal and tell me if you know anyone.”

  “No!” His mood swung from stoned and giggly to angry. Maybe there was something more than pot swimming through him. “You will give me what I want.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “I will have you.”

  “No, Drak, you won’t.” Moira lowered her voice, letting it slip to a husky whisper. “Don’t you remember, Drak, we’re friends. Can you remember that?”

  Her voice called what little magic of hers was left in him. This time when he spoke it was with the light happy voice of a person made peaceful by magic. “I remember.”