Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
It’s in the kitchen that Kyle finds Leland, the cook with the sagging jeans, messy hair, flushed and sunburned face, and big, bright baby blue eyes. Next to him at the sink is Jeremy Rojas, whose short and spiky bleached hair glows like a torch under the fluorescent lights of the kitchen. He’s skinny with the same russet complexion as his rigid police chief father, swimming in an oversized band shirt, jeans, and a thick cuff on his wrist, which looks ten pounds in comparison to his arm.
The moment Kyle enters, Jeremy’s eyes light up. “Oh, I’m so glad you came, man!”
“Why wouldn’t I?” asks Kyle right back. “I work tonight.”
“I mean …” Jeremy chuckles self-consciously. “I knew that. I just meant I’m glad you’re here, like, tonight-tonight. Because we’re having my party this late. So you can, uh, y’know, come.”
Kyle stops. He didn’t realize that.
Then Jeremy ambushes Kyle with a surprise hug. “I will never forget you were the one who saved my life, who really saved it. I’m here because of you. Thank you, man. I mean it … thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Now, now,” sings Leland, who has returned to scrubbing something in the sink, “don’t go smothering poor Henry. Uh, I mean Kyle.” He throws an apologetic wince over his shoulder. “Sorry, old habit.”
Jeremy continues to cling to Kyle, his sentimental feelings radiating out of him like a beacon. “Really, you’re one of the good ones. I feel safe because you’re here. We all do, everyone in this whole town, we’re all grateful, even if we don’t show it.”
One of the good ones.
Kyle thinks about Tristan, about Lord Markadian, about the cold and vile George who killed his childhood friend Brock, about every last one of those fiends at the House of Vegasyn.
Are they the bad ones?
“You’re … awfully emotional tonight,” Kyle notes.
Jeremy lets go suddenly. “Oh, is Layna here yet? Did you see her out there?”
“Nope,” says Kyle.
“Hope she isn’t doing some big thing,” he mumbles. “I told her not to.”
Leland drops a dish in the sink, curses, then glances over a shoulder. “What do you want for your birthday, Jer?”
“Told my dad I wanted to go to Vegas, just an overnight trip, no big deal, but he strictly forbade it. He doesn’t want me going anywhere or doing anything fun with my life. I’m gonna be stuck here forever.”
The moment Jeremy mentions Las Vegas, Kyle’s mind is transported there.
To the threatening hallways of the Scarlet Sands.
To the windy rooftop where he reunited with Elias.
To the disorienting hallways of the House of Vegasyn.
To the stark white room where he watched Brock die.
“Maybe your … father has his reasons,” Kyle finds himself saying, at once not wishing anyone he cares about to discover that dark and deadly underworld he experienced mere days ago. Has it been only days? It feels like months. Years.
“Yeah, sure, reasons,” echoes Jeremy, miserable.
Kyle puts a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, gives it a squeeze, encouraging him. “Don’t lose hope. Hey, once upon a time, I thought my fate was to live and die in a small Texas town, to be invisible, forever lost under my former best friend’s shadow, lurking under my significantly more successful and smarter younger brother’s achievements, shriveling away inside my own unforgivable … averageness. But now?” He smiles. “My life is so much bigger.” He reconsiders. “Well, sort of.”
Jeremy nods. “Fine. I’ll take that to mean you’re planning a secret trip for me.”
Kyle squints at him. “Say what?”
“You’re making plans to sneak me out on a cool midnight trip to Vegas someday. I knew it.” He snaps his fingers. “Hey, you basically just pinky-promised it.”
“But you’re underage!”
“So now I’m gonna hold you to it! Oh, but only if Layna can come, too. Speaking of, I’d better check if she’s here yet.” He pats Kyle on the shoulder, satisfied, then strolls right out of the kitchen, the door left swinging at his back.
Leland snorts at the sink, mutters, “Can’t deny the birthday boy what he wants,” then starts whistling to himself.
Kyle shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. He will have to pitch different places to Jeremy. Grand Canyon. Somewhere fun in California, on the coast. Even Antarctica is a better option.
And likely far less deadly than Las Vegas.
Or more specifically: the Vegasyn domain.
Kyle heads to Cade’s office, giving the door a light knock before poking his head in. “Evening. Just letting you know I’m here. Nice decorations, by the way, livens up the place.”
“Huh?” She looks up from a mess of books and an opened laptop on her desk. “Oh, right, thanks, hope it isn’t too much. Hey, have you by chance ever heard of Winona Norwood? Or the Norwood Coven? Or, um … something to do with—wait, what was it?” She flips over a book and drags her finger across the back, reading, then shuffles over a pile of paper to fish out a single pink sticky note, at which she now squints in confusion. “Can’t read my own handwriting. The hell is this here?”