“So they make sure that one’s always missing.” I finished for him. “But that doesn’t explain why they’re here in the first place. If they know we’re after them—”

“They’re staking me out,” Casanova muttered.

“What?”

“They were meant to be warriors, and I think they find Vegas a little tame for their tastes. Something it rarely is around here anymore,” he said, shooting me a dark glance. “They know that if all Hell is going to break loose anywhere, it’ll be here. So they Just. Never. Leave.”

“Speaking of Hell,” I said, but he brushed me off.

“Don’t even start. There’s nothing I can do.”

“He trashed your window—he practically killed Pritkin!”

“Considering that your mage has been stalking him for more than a century with the same thing in mind, I don’t think he can complain too much.”

“We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do.” Casanova was the poster boy for “Not Happy.” “How about we start with the fact that this is not a refugee camp? I already have a load of illegal immigrants in the kitchens thanks to you—”

“That was Tony’s idea, as you know perfectly—”

“—and now I discover that they’ve been joined by a group of scruffy, probably lice-infested—”

“Hey!”

“—brats, who are also occupying two of my suites, probably planning to steal me blind!”

“They’re just kids.”

“Children should be seen and not heard. If possible, not even seen,” he told me, unmollified. “I don’t have security enough to watch the terrible trio over there, clean up your messes and also babysit!”

“No one’s asking you—”

He pointed an accusing finger at me. “I’m through with you, do you hear me? You and your weird friends, corrupting my staff, ruining my casino, attracting Lord Rosier’s attention—”

“Who?”

“Orders or no orders, I have had enough!” I grabbed him when he tried to stomp off, which wouldn’t have worked except that Françoise decided to pitch in. “Oh, this is nice,” Casanova said furiously. “Assaulted, in my own casino! What’s next? Tying me up?”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d just hate that,” I said sourly. “Stop with the theatrics. Pritkin’s gone off somewhere and I need answers. Either give them to me or throw me out.”

Casanova snorted. “Right. I’m going to evict the boss’s girlfriend!”

“I’m not the boss’s girlfriend!”

“Uh-huh. That’s not the memo I got. The last thing I heard, from the man himself, was to lend you every possible assistance because you’re—how did he phrase it?—oh, yes, precious to him.” Casanova looked vaguely disgusted. “Of course, that was before you started making out with the mage in the middle of the damn lobby!”

“That wasn’t him!”

“You know that, and I know that. Does Mircea? Because he really doesn’t share well.”

“I don’t know anything,” I told him grimly. “But I’m about to.”

“Not from me,” Casanova said flatly.

Françoise started chanting something and he paled. “Quit that! I haven’t even gotten the bill for the last disaster yet!”

“Then talk. Who attacked me? And why?”

“I already told you! And I’d prefer not to mention his name again; it might attract his attention.” Casanova visibly shuddered. “Having his destructive spawn here is bad enough.”

“Are you making this up?” The only group I could think of who didn’t already want me dead were the demons, mainly because I didn’t know any. At least, I hadn’t before today, unless you counted incubi. And death and destruction weren’t really their thing.

At least, I hadn’t thought so.

“There are a few things I do not joke about, chica, and he is one of them.”

“You’re telling me that Pritkin’s father is some demon?”

Casanova paled. “Not some demon. The ruler of our court.”

“So this Rosier is what? A demon lord?”

“Don’t use his name!”

Billy Joe had said it, and I’d even heard a sort of admission from Pritkin’s own lips, but I still couldn’t believe it. “But Pritkin hates demons, he’s hunted them for years, he’s fanatical about it…”

“You don’t say.”

“But if he’s half demon himself, why would he—”

“I don’t know. Or, rather, they have issues; everyone knows that. Your mage has the distinction of being the only mortal ever actually kicked out of Hell, but I don’t have any specifics. I don’t deal in High Court politics; I have my own problems, most of which lately revolve around you!”

I ignored the obvious attempt to change the subject. “I don’t get it. How can Pritkin possibly be half-incubus?” I poked him on the arm. “You’re incorporeal.”

“I have a host—”

“Which is exactly my point. You need a host to, you know.” I waved a hand at his body, which was looking elegant as usual in a tan linen suit and snappy orange silk tie. Casanova raised an eyebrow. “To feed, okay? And wouldn’t that make the host the father of any children, and not you?”

Casanova sighed heavily, the weight of my stupidity clearly becoming too much for him to bear. But at least he answered. “The ruler of our court is powerful enough to assume human form at will, instead of having to find a host, and is therefore the only one of us to have progeny.” He made a face. “Considering the result, I can’t say I envy him that.”

“You mean, Pritkin is the only one of his kind?”

“There are plenty of demon races out there and many of them are corporeal all the time,” Casanova said crossly. “Half-demon children aren’t exactly thick on the ground, but they do exist. And most of them aren’t destructive maniacs.”

“But no other incubi?”

“The experiment wasn’t a roaring success,” he pointed out dryly.

“Okay, but none of this explains why Ros—” Casanova flinched. “That demon attacked me. He only went after Pritkin when he tried to protect me.”

“Protect you? That’s like sending Pancho Villa to keep Che Guevara out of trouble!”

“Would you just—”

“I don’t know.” Casanova saw my expression. “It’s the truth! I don’t know and I don’t want to know. The last thing I need is for certain people to decide that I’m interfering in their business!”

“Rosier killed Saleh,” I said, trying to fit the pieces together. “And when he came after me, he said it was because I’d talked to him. But the only thing Saleh and I discussed was—”

“Don’t tell me!” Casanova backed away with a panicked look, right into the line of dangerous-looking creatures who had just entered the salon. They’d been so quiet, I hadn’t even heard them. I assumed Casanova would have, under other circumstances, but he wasn’t at his best. That was even more true when he spun around and caught a glimpse of Alphonse’s smirking face.

He literally snarled, and casino security, which had been trailing the nattily dressed group of vamps, closed in a little more. “I invited them!” I said, before things could turn ugly.

“You set me up!” Casanova shot me a purely vicious look. And, okay, yeah, maybe I should have brought this up a little sooner. But I’d been busy.

“They’re here to help me with something, not to fight,” I said. I caught Alphonse’s eye, which was easy even with Casanova in the way since he is almost seven feet tall. “Right?”

“Sure thing,” he agreed smoothly, giving Casanova’s shoulder a friendly squeeze that had the incubus wincing in pain. “Came to see the bikes over at the Mirage.”

“You’re in my territory!”

Alphonse grinned lazily. “There ain’t no territories no more—or didn’t you hear? The Senate outlawed ’em to cut down on the feuding.” He chuckled, like that was the best joke he’d heard in a while.

“He likes motorcycles,” I reminded Casanova quickly. “You know that!”

It was true. Besides photography, B-grade vampire movies and killing things, Alphonse liked big, loud bikes that belched black smoke and choked anyone unfortunate enough to be behind him. For a cold-blooded killer, he was remarkably well-rounded.

He was also really good at getting under Casanova’s skin. Not that he had to work very hard. I got the impression that there was some lingering resentment over the fact that Alphonse had taken Casanova’s place as Tony’s second a few years back. I had no idea if that had been a purely business decision or was partly personal, but there was no doubt that the incubus resented it. And Alphonse showing up on his doorstep without so much as a by-your-leave wasn’t helping.

“And if me and my lady want to do a little gambling, who’s gonna stop us?”

The five huge security personnel took a collective step forward. I started to get between them and Alphonse’s group, which consisted of him, Sal, three vamps I remembered from Tony’s, and one that I didn’t. I really didn’t want to be responsible for a territory war. But Sal caught my wrist faster than I could blink and pulled me out of the way.

“Let ’em get it out of their systems now or it’ll be a whole lot worse later,” she said, as the two groups surged into each other. Alphonse picked up a standing ashtray, which was as big around as a small trash can, and swung it like a club. The black sand, which had been neatly impressed with Dante’s logo, went flying everywhere before the ashtray caught Casanova squarely in the stomach. He staggered back into Enyo, knocking her off her stool.