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"What's the V stand for?" I asked.
He just stared at me, face blank.
They were an impressive-looking bunch, with deep red bowling shirts and sparkling black embroidery that read DEVIL MAY CARE on the back.
"That's not even a real team name," Peter whispered to me disapprovingly. "And those sparkles are just tacky."
Like ours, their shirts were standard button-ups with their names on the front. Only Malachi's was different, with a small designation declaring him Captain. I guess he needed to make sure his status was asserted over that of the lesser immortals. There was something lean and sinister about them, and in our baby blues, I felt downright cute and cuddly.
A waitress came by with drinks, and once Jerome had a glass of scotch in hand, he deemed proceedings fit to start. There was a part of me that wouldn't have minded a gimlet or two, but I didn't think alcohol was the best call just now. It had nothing to do with team solidarity or messing up my game. When surrounded by unknown and possibly untrustworthy immortals, it was always a good idea to keep your wits about you. And when you were possibly on Hell's radar for dissension, it was an excellent idea.
In my usual lucky way, I ended up having to go first. With all my worries about Seth and the contracts, my mind wasn't exactly focused on all of Roman's good instructions, but I nonetheless did my best to recall his training. I ended up hitting seven and then two pins. Not the greatest, but certainly not the worst. My teammates cheered me voraciously, both because Peter had sent us all a lengthy e-mail earlier in the day about "pep" and because with our track record, nine wasn't that bad.
Tiara went after me, and as she retrieved her ball, Cody whispered to me how she'd gotten in a fight with management earlier because she'd wanted to wear stilettos on the lanes. She'd apparently conceded to wear proper bowling shoes in the end, but unless there'd been a significant trend change in the industry, she'd ended up using her shape-shifting powers to make the shoes more to her liking. They were gold and encrusted with jewels.
Yet those weren't the worst part of her attire. That came in the form of her Devil May Care shirt, which I was pretty sure had shrunk about three sizes since I arrived. The buttons that were still actually fastened looked like they were about to burst. I winced as all that cle**age walked past me, and I wanted to cover my eyes when she reached the lane and bent over unnecessarily far, in order to give everyone a solid view of her ass. Her jeans were nearly as tight as the shirt.
"That is not a regulation stance," declared Peter. He studied her critically for a few moments. "I believe she's trying to distract us."
I scoffed. "Oh, you think?"
"Hey!" Peter elbowed Cody and Hugh who - judging by their gaping mouths - were not catching on to Tiara's ruse as easily as the rest of us. "Focus. Remember what you're playing for: Jerome's good will."
"Nothing wrong with looking," said Hugh. "Besides, there's no way she can hit anything with that - "
His words cut off as Tiara threw. Her ball blasted into the pins and knocked all ten over. With a little smirk and a lot of hip swaying, she strutted back proudly to her seat.
"Shit," said Hugh.
"Ready to focus yet?" asked Peter.
The imp shook his head, still in awe. "I don't think it's going to matter, not if they all bowl like that."
"They can't all bowl like that," countered Cody. But he didn't sound so sure.
Noticing our consternation, Tiara favored us all with a glossy-lipped smile. "We can call it quits right now if you want. We can go back to my hotel and have a party." She tossed her highlighted curls over one shoulder, and her gaze rested on me. "I can also give you some styling advice if you want."
"Oh my God," I muttered. "This is why I hate other succubi." I could almost give Hell credit for finding me the only appealing one in Vegas, even if it had been part of a more elaborate scheme.
Tiara soon became the least of our worries as her teammates took their turns. Strikes and spares all around, quickly surpassing our mix of erratic spares and . . . whatever it was Peter threw. As we moved further into the game, I glanced over at Jerome and saw that his smile had vanished, as had his cocky good mood. At least I could feel confident it had nothing to do with my contract.
V proved to be the most startling of the bowlers. Whenever his turn came, he walked up unhesitatingly, didn't even pause or aim, and threw strikes every time. Every time. He also never spoke a single world.
"How is he doing that?" exclaimed Cody. He glanced at Carter, who was watching everything with quiet amusement. "Is he using some kind of power?"
"No illicit ones," said Carter. "Just his own God-given . . . er, Hell-given abilities."
I hadn't really been worried about the other team cheating or Nanette helping them. I knew Jerome would keep her in check, and Carter's angelic presence was kind of a safeguard against dishonest activity. But his words struck something within me.
"Of course," I murmured. "He's just using what he's got: enhanced reflexes and senses. He's a vampire. He's physically better at everything." No wonder it didn't seem like he needed to aim. He probably was; he was just doing it really, really fast. I turned to Cody and Peter. "How come you guys can't do that?"
Silence met me.
"Cody's our best player," pointed out Hugh.
"True," I admitted. Cody had learned very quickly, and I supposed the difference in his and V's abilities made sense simply because V had been playing a lot longer. "But how do you explain Peter?"
Nobody had an answer for that, least of all Peter.
Cody actually seemed to draw inspiration from V and the realization that being a vampire should provide some natural ability. Cody's already solid performance soon improved, and I wished Roman could see him. Still, it wasn't enough to save us in that first game. We lost pretty terribly. Since Jerome and Nanette had agreed to "best of three," this meant we had two more chances for redemption. I had mixed feelings about this. Jerome's face was growing stormier, so there was some comfort in thinking we might be able to head off his wrath.
On the other hand, I wouldn't have minded ending this as quickly as possible. Maybe the Devil didn't care, but I was growing increasingly sick of the other team. I was pretty sure Tiara's outfit was getting increasingly tighter and more revealing. Although he never spoke, V's smug expressions conveyed condescension levels that words never could.
And yet, neither of them was as bad as Roger the imp. Every time he got a strike or a spare, he trumpeted his victory with some sort of money-related expression, such as "Jackpot !" or "A penny saved is a penny earned!" Sometimes they didn't even make any sense in the situation, like when he shouted, "It's like throwing pearls before swine!" When he started inexplicably quoting lyrics to "Can't Buy Me Love" at the start of the second game, I really thought I was going to lose it.
Cody nudged me. "He's getting tired. So is Tiara."
I glanced up at the scoreboard. It was a slight change, but those two were showing fewer strikes than spares and sometimes not even getting spares. Malachi remained consistently good, and V remained unstoppable. Over on our team, Peter and I hadn't changed, but Cody had continued - and was succeeding - in trying to prove his vampire skills. Hugh was also improving slightly, a phenomenon we'd seen with Roman sometimes. It was as though the imp needed to warm up in order to remember how to avoid his arm's tendency to throw curves.
I exchanged glances with Cody. "I don't know that it's enough."
"You've done better than this in practice," he told me gently. "I know you've got a bunch of stuff going on, but try to think if Roman was here. What he'd say. Then look at Jerome's face and tell me you don't want us to come out on top."
I didn't really care about Jerome keeping his pride around Nanette, but my friends' well-being did concern me. I knew their happiness would be directly influenced by Jerome's unhappiness. Sighing, I answered Cody with a resolute nod and tried to step up my game, racking my brains for all the words of wisdom that Roman had given me over the last couple of weeks. I admit, I hadn't always been paying as much attention as I could have.
Nonetheless, something started clicking for me. I was a long way from being a pro anytime soon, but between me, Cody, and Hugh, we slowly began to keep up with Nanette's team. It was so subtle and so gradual that when we won by two points, everyone - including my teammates and me - could hardly believe it had happened. We all stared at the scoreboard in stunned silence. Only Carter was able to get anything out.
