“The most important thing is getting Reinhold back.” Joel grabbed his coat from where he’d tossed it over a chair. “We’ll worry about Sullivan later.” He paused. “Unless you have a better idea, of course. I’d love to hear it if you do.”
If only he’d gotten here faster. If only he’d refused to leave in the first place. If only he’d realized sooner, tried harder, done better—
No. Recriminations weren’t going to help save anyone. What was done was done, and it was time to play the hand he had, not the one he wished he’d been dealt.
“Come on,” Sam said. “Let’s go save our friends.”
The Gattis climbed up the ladder one at a time. The false chimney was deeper than a real one would have been, and pulleys hung from overhead to haul the hooch up from the basement. Their position was a precarious one; if anyone remained to guard the hidden door to the chimney, they could easily fire down the ladder and kill everyone.
Alistair’s heart thundered in his chest, and the taste of metal filled his mouth. Even so, a familiar calm swept over him. It was the same feeling he’d gotten marching into the desolation of the Argonne Forest, knowing that the enemy waited amidst the shattered trees and shell-torn hills. A sense that there was nothing left to do but see things through.
As they emerged through the hidden door, they immediately took on feline form. The chimney let out in the wall directly opposite the big bar, and the reek of alcohol stung Alistair’s nose. Shouts and the chatter of gunfire came from the front of the building, and he swiveled one ear to keep track of it, the other flicking back and forth in search of any betraying noise nearby.
The others slid through the shadowy interior of the casino on silent paws, noses working as they sifted the air for Reinhold’s scent. For once, Alistair wished cheetahs had retractable claws; he tried to move quietly but couldn’t avoid clicking against the marble floor.
Wanda led the way out of the corner they’d emerged from and into the vestibule, where she immediately froze. Peering past her, Alistair spotted a man with his back to them, guarding the steel door leading from the pool hall next door. Wanda’s tufted tail flicked, and she dropped into a crouch. Moving in utter silence, she prowled up behind the guard—and sprang.
The man only had time to shout once, before her weight took him to the floor. He started to thrash, but a growl in his ear stilled him. The acrid odor of urine stained the air, and wetness spread across the front of his trousers.
Alistair shifted and went to one knee beside the man. His eyes were ringed white with terror, and little involuntary whimpers escaped him. Wanda had extended her claws just far enough to pierce his clothing. The scent of his fear fouled the air.
“Where is he?” Alistair asked in a low voice.
“U-Upstairs.” The word came out more of a whimper than anything else. “In the office. Under guard. Oh God, please, please don’t kill me, I’ve got kids, please.”
Alistair pointed at the steel door. “You go out that door, and you keep running, understand? Or we’ll track you down and eat your kids in front of you.”
It was an empty threat, but the guard didn’t know it. He squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, “Oh God, please, I will, just don’t, don’t, don’t.”
Alistair shifted back into cheetah form, and Wanda slowly stepped off of the guard. As soon as he felt her weight leave him, he scrambled up, fumbled a key out of his pocket, flung open the door, and disappeared into the darkened pool hall.
All eyes turned to Wanda. She seemed to think for a moment, before looking very deliberately at Philip, then at the roulette room with its balcony open to the second floor. He flicked an ear and made for it, his long tail vanishing around the corner. Wanda glanced at the rest of them, then turned toward the door leading up to Ursino’s office.
Alistair took on human form just long enough to open the door. Wanda and Doris both charged past, and he went to four legs and bounded up the stairs after them. There was a shout of alarm, and a steel trapdoor in the ceiling swung open, revealing armed men ready to shoot down through the hole.
Idiots.
Doris leapt up and through the open trap door, bowling directly into one of the men. Wanda was on her tail, and a chorus of panicked cries broke out. A gun went off, and one of the men screamed.
Alistair gathered his haunches and launched himself for the trap door. A human couldn’t have made the jump, but he cleared it easily. A man lay just beside the trap, clutching his arm as blood poured from what looked like a savage bite.
All of Alistair’s focus narrowed to the fight. He slashed and bit, and the smell of blood and terror carried him back to the Argonne. The same sense of grim determination fell over him, clearing away all but the need to survive.
More men rushed at them from the balcony, but Philip bounded over it and took one down from behind. Panic set in among the guards, most running for the stairs, another jumping over the balcony and crashing onto a table below. Wanda reached the door to Ursino’s office and shifted. Alistair did the same, ready to help break it down, but to his surprise it swung open at Wanda’s touch.
Reinhold stood in the center of a stasis hex. His eyes widened, then he glanced pointedly to the left.
Wanda spun, but Ursino was faster. He emerged from the shadows and slapped a hex on Wanda’s forehead. “Sleep!”
She crumpled. Before Alistair could react, Ursino held up the gun in his other hand and pointed it at Alistair’s head. Alistair put up his hands, and Ursino seized him by the arm, dragging him onto the balcony.
“That’s enough!” Ursino bellowed. “The rest of you get out of animal shape, or I’ll blow his head off.”
Doris and Philip both glared, but did as ordered. Sticky blood pooled on the balcony, and desperate sobs of pain broke the air. Only one man was obviously dead, but some of the others would be lucky to make it to the hospital.
Ursino ground the barrel of the gun into Alistair’s skull. Alistair’s heart pounded, but that odd calm still clung to him. He readied himself to go for the gun, not out of any hope it would work, but to give Doris and Philip a chance to run. He was going to die here, but at least they might escape with their lives.
At least Sam was already gone. Safe from Ursino, from this violence. If only they’d had more time.
“You should have known better than to mess with me,” Ursino growled. “I’m going to decorate my office with your hides.”
“Excuse me,” called a voice from the floor below.
An impossible voice. Alistair had to be hallucinating, because Sam was far away from here. Safe on a train bound for Milwaukee.
But there he was, standing in the middle of the casino floor with a metal trashcan, of all things, in front of him.
He’d come back.
25
Sam’s hands shook, but he quickly lit a match and threw it into the metal trashcan. He and Joel had found the open manhole in the sidewalk easily enough. While Joel waited with the car, Sam hurried through the tunnels below the city to the basement of The Black Rabbit. The trapdoor had been open, and from there it had been a matter of following the sounds of fighting.
Then he’d seen Alistair, clutched in Ursino’s massive hand, a gun pressed against his head.