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“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 th
rough 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?”
