“So speaking of which,” Amber spoke up, “what was the deal with Rachel asking you not to start any theological debates?”
Alex winced. He’d tried, but here they were on the subject of his girlfriends again. Once more, he wished for a rescue… and then he saw a lovely half-sugar skull face approach him.
She leaned her hip against the table beside Alex’s seat. He saw not a shred of shyness in her eyes. “Saw you lookin’ back in the hallway,” she said. “An’ then just a minute ago. But you didn’t come to say hi. Hope I ain’t interruptin’ nothing?”
If her good looks weren’t enough to draw him in, her accent provided the rest of the lure. “No, not at all,” Alex said. He sat up straight and found himself unable to take his eyes off her. Her natural confidence and smooth manner held his attention. “I’m glad you decided to come over and say hi. I just didn’t want to get up and abandon my friends here.”
She turned the natural side of her face toward Jason and Amber to casually say, “Hi,” giving Alex another good look at her sugar skull make-up. “So you here alone, or is your date ditchin’ you?”
“She’s around,” Alex said, unable to hold back a flirtatious grin, “but we don’t have to be hand-in-hand or anything. We’re not a jealous couple.”
“No?”
His cellphone vibrated. “This might be her, sorry,” he said, slipping it out to check it quickly. The message read: “Gonna b a bit. L says go have fun. -O.” At that, Alex just smiled. “Nope. No jealousy issues at at all.”
Amber leaned over to Jason. “Can you hear them?” she asked, unable to follow the conversation with the newcomer’s back to them and the dance floor music still thumping.
Jason just shook his head. “Shit happens all the time with him anymore,” he shrugged. “Minute Lorelei’s gone, girls just flock all around him.”
“She’s not bothered by that?”
“You did catch on that she’s kinda freaky, right?” he said. “Sometimes I wish I had his problems.” Amber’s hand came over his and gave him a squeeze, and he smiled at her for it. “But only sometimes.”
“I like your problems better,” she said.
“So what’s your name?” the sugar skull asked, ignoring the pair behind her.
“I’m Alex,” he answered. He saw nothing suspicious in the slight rise of her eyebrow and her tiny nod at his name. All he read from her reactions was a continued interest in flirting. “Who are you?”
“Rosario,” she said. “I’m up from Las Vegas. Came to see my boyfriend, but turns out he’s a drunk asshole so I’m single now, I guess. Figured I’d just have to find my own fun tonight.”
“I like fun,” Alex smiled.
“You look like it,” she said. “Least you’re dressed to be ready for it.”
He snorted. “Well, this is an actual costume. It’s from a book… y’know, whatever. Can I get you a drink?”
“The bars outside the dance rooms have shorter lines,” she suggested.
He stood up and looked past her. “Hey, I’m gonna go get a drink with Rosario here,” Alex said to his companions. “Looks like Lorelei’s gonna be busy for a bit anyway. You don’t have to have me tag along with you all night.”
“Your friends can come, too,” Rosario said loudly enough for their benefit, but then winked at Alex and dropped her voice to add, “or not.”
Amber looked to Jason and found that his face had grown noticeably more serious. She rose as he did, leaning in to ask, “Is something wrong here? I mean other than the obvious?”
“Alex has a girl problem,” Jason said, lowering his voice to ensure neither Alex nor Rosario could hear, “but it’s not the kind you’d think.”
They followed Alex and Rosario out of the ballroom, taking a couple of turns in the hotel’s hallways. “I thought the bars were out the other way?” Alex asked, pointing down in the opposite direction as Rosario guided them.
“There’s a second one upstairs from here,” Rosario said, turning around and taking the loose ends of his bathrobe belt to tug him along. “We don’ wanna have to deal with the crowd in the main lobby, right?” She walked backwards for a few steps, her eyes and her smile promising much more than idle conversation, before leading them around another corner.
Alex had no particular reason to suspect anything. He’d never seen Rosario before in his life, but that meant little. Women flirted and made passes at him all the time now. Lorelei was busy with the witches, probably doing exactly what he wanted to do with them. Rachel was nowhere to be found. A little time with a pretty stranger might lead to something unexpected and fun, or to nothing at all. He had nothing to lose. He followed.
Jason and Amber followed, too, suddenly feeling like a fifth wheel in all this. They both found themselves slightly uncomfortable when they passed a trio of large men in bulky black cloaks and generic monster masks at the corner of Rosario’s next turn. “Uh, this just leads to a service exit,” Jason observed.
“Yeah,” Alex frowned, “are you sure-?” The rest of his sentence was suddenly smothered by the moist bandana Rosario shoved against his mouth and nose. She threw her other hand around his neck, holding on tight as Alex struggled and tried to spin away. The first involuntary whiff of the chloroform on the rag already had his head spinning. Rosario hooked one leg around his, throwing her hip into his midsection to bring him down to the floor as she clung to him.
Alex saw Jason and Amber grabbed from behind by the men in the cloaks. Another of them loomed over him, presumably to help Rosario, but that was about all his mind could process before he blacked out.
Chapter Seven: Blood Debts
He awoke on hard, flat ground. He lay either indoors on some stone floor or perhaps on a road. He felt the incredibly soft fabric of a blanket around him. The fabric was too thin to keep him warm but it was softer than any of his clothes… no. Not a blanket. These were clothes. Softer than wool, certainly softer than leather, and not nearly as warm.
It was hard to think.
He heard no birds or wind, just the echoes of voices and steady, far-off noises. He had to be inside somewhere.
His eyes would only open for the briefest of moments, and blearily at that. He fumbled about for something to hold and found only a flat, cold floor. This is not Roman stone, he realized.
Wait. Roman stone?
“I think he’s waking up,” said someone in a language he didn’t understand, and yet he did. Why wouldn’t he understand it, though? He’d grown up speaking English all his life.
English? What is that?
“Pull him up. Pull him to his knees,” someone said. He recognized that as English. The Queen’s English. Proper English. Like the captain, or the lieutenant.
Who? What in Juno’s piss is a lieutenant?
Wait, Juno’s what? Who the fuck is Juno? Who the fuck talks like that?
Strong hands grabbed him on both shoulders and pulled him upright, settling him-roughly-back down on his knees. He fought to get his eyes open. The light wasn’t too bright, and clearly artificial-electrical lights, he now understood, and look how slick it all was! — and then he saw the concrete ceiling and the tan, smooth marble tiles of the floor. Green metal railing stood wherever a purposeful gap opened between the floor and the concrete walls. Signs saying “Westlake” and “Metro” could be seen here and there, along with what looked like advertisements for things he didn’t recognize.
A great many people surrounded him in a crowded arc. Most wore black.
Where in Christ’s name am I?
His vision cleared. Several dozen people, mostly pale, watched him intently. Their garb tended toward dark colors, but the styles and fashions spanned centuries. Many bore weapons: swords hung on hips, or modern guns sat in holsters, and even one or two people carried genuine black powder pistols.