And then I lost my grip on my radius.

I’d gotten tired, and the combination of checking the feeding room, concocting an escape route, and keeping my radius cinched in tight was too much to juggle in my brain. I just . . . slipped. Immediately, several vampires at the tables doubled over, struggling with the twin sensations of a beating heart and the need to breathe. I had about five seconds before they recovered and started looking around for the null.

It would have taken a moment of motionless concentration to gather the radius around me again, so I just walked faster, pulling Cliff along behind me. I was moving too quickly to stop and glance back at the vampires, but I heard urgent yelling behind us, and I could picture them standing up and beginning to follow us, closing off exit routes as we fled, like pack hunters in the wild. I was suddenly very aware of how vulnerable I was if they caught me. I still had my cell phone in Molly’s clutch, but who would I even call for help? There was no one who could get here in time.

Nearly jogging now, Cliff and I turned out of the ballroom—the vampires popped back out of my radius—and hurried back down the long corridor to the main casino. Cliff took the lead, looking ready to dropkick anyone who got in our way. I could hear footsteps from the hallway we’d just left, getting closer and closer. “Come on,” Cliff shouted over his shoulder, breaking into a run.

Then someone very big came up behind me, pushing me through an emergency exit door before I could so much as scream.

Chapter 13

I hadn’t realized we were anywhere near an exterior wall of the building, but I suddenly found myself in a dim outdoor area, the dry desert breeze blowing loose hair in my eyes so I couldn’t see where I was being forced to go. I stumbled but managed not to drop the clutch as I was pushed along. With a little fumbling, I got out my knife and whirled around with it raised above my head, more or less at the level of the guy’s face. But the man caught my wrist and held my arm above my head. He was damned tall, and I was off-balance as he pushed me until my back slammed against the adobe wall behind me. He pinned my wrist to the wall, and when I tried to punch with my free hand, he caught it and pressed it into the building, too. Now strong hands were holding both my arms in place, and I felt my pulse jump.

“Dammit, Scarlett! Drop it!” the man hissed, still looming over me.

Oh.

I didn’t drop the knife, but my arm relaxed as, for the first time, I focused on my radius . . . and felt the familiar, bizarre sensation of another null. If you thought of my ability as a light that emitted from my body, being near a null was like shoving the light into a prism.

But I knew this particular prism.

“Jameson?” I tossed my head to get my hair out of my face. Jameson Thomas was looking down at me, his face in shadow. Both of us were breathing hard. We were in some kind of maintenance courtyard with dim emergency lighting. Behind Jameson I saw two rows of those massive heating/air conditioning things, each row nearly as tall as I was. I could hear street sounds to my left, where a little driveway led to the street, and there was a dark wall to my right. The wall behind me was still warm with the heat from earlier in the day.

Jameson had eased up the pressure on me, but he didn’t let go. “Are you gonna drop the blade?” he said in a low voice.

“No.” But I reversed the knife in my hand, so the sharp end pointed toward me. Jameson released my wrist, allowing me to take a slow, careful step sideways so the street lighting would land on his face. He looked at me with hooded, worried eyes. Familiar eyes.

Not much else about him was familiar, though. When I’d last seen the null from New York, he’d been thin and still a little gawky, a nineteen-year-old black kid in expensive sneakers who was half-convinced that everything he had was going to be ripped away from him, either by Malcolm’s enemies or by Malcolm himself. More than three years later, the gawkiness and uncertainty were gone, replaced by lean muscle and a snazzy suit. He was still tall, though—around six four. I had to crane my neck to look in his eyes. “You look . . . different,” I said stupidly.

He let out a low chuckle, which brought me instantly back to my month in New York, when we’d stayed up into the morning hours watching action movies and eating gourmet popcorn, the kind covered in white fudge and sprinkles. Jameson had always complained that it was a ridiculous food, but he’d always eaten more of it than I had. Now he flashed me a grin. “I’m different? Look at you. You’re Lara Croft with a blade.”

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks and hurried to change the subject. “What are you doing here? Why are you helping them?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” There was a sharp rattle to my left, and I realized that Jameson had shoved something small into the emergency exit door, blocking it. Someone was trying to follow us out. “That’s probably my backup,” I said, pushing off the wall and reaching for the door.

“Don’t!” He caught my wrist again, surprising me with his intensity. I reacted on muscle memory. Dropping the knife, I reached up, pulled his head under my arm, and pushed into his lower back with my other hand, forcing him to fall backward onto the ground. He let out a surprised grunt as he fell, and I took a step away, scooping up my knife and holding it ready. I hadn’t hurt him, but if I’d made him mad enough he might come up swinging. I eyed the exit door, but I would have to step over Jameson to get to it. And of course, the way out to the street was behind him, too. Stupid Scarlett.

Jameson just lay there for a moment, and then he started to laugh, which made some of my tension fade. “Okay, that’s fair. I shouldn’t have grabbed you. Was that aikido?”

“Yes.” I wasn’t an expert or anything, but I’d drilled hard on a few key moves to get me out of trouble. He didn’t need to know that, though.

Jameson got to his feet, brushing off his suit and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not going to hurt you, Letts.”

I blinked for a second. I’d forgotten all about that nickname, the remnant of some in-joke we’d come up with during my trip. Jameson was the only person who’d ever called me Letts. “How can I know that?”

He shook his head. “I never did before, did I? Why would I start now?”

Okay, he did have a point there. Jameson had always been kind to me, even when his loyalty lay with Malcolm. He had never hurt me, and I didn’t honestly think he would start now.

I looked around for the clutch, picked it up off the asphalt, and tucked the knife back into it. The exit door had stopped rattling. I took out my phone.

“What are you doing?” he asked, looking anxious.

“Texting my guy to tell him I’m fine,” I said. It was the truth, but I eyed Jameson to see if he was going to try to stop me.

But he just nodded. “What I was going to say is that the person at the door might not be your guy. One of the Holmwoods’ security guys was following you out of the ballroom, and he had vampires with him. I’ll try to convince them it was just me, expanding my aura, but if the Holmwoods figure out what you are, or who you work for, they’re gonna kill you.”

Well, that seemed melodramatic. “What? Why?” I asked, putting the phone away. “Usually people at least get to know me first.”

“You’re a null. In Vegas,” he said. His eyes slid away from me to check behind him for threats. “They’d probably assume that you came to stop Demeter. Isn’t that what your boss wants you to do?”

I batted my eyes with great innocence. “What? No. I’m just here for . . . um . . . gambling and dressing slutty and stuff. Getting my drink on.”

“Sure you are.” He shook his head a little. “Seriously, what were you thinking, showing up at that party?”

I straightened up, raising my chin. “I was thinking that something fucked up is happening in Vegas and I wanted to know what it was. Also, I saw a picture of you working for the Holmwoods, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t being held here against your will.”

“Oh.” Jameson sighed. “It’s more complicated than that, but working for the Holmwoods was my choice.”

“And Malcolm?” The New York cardinal vampire wasn’t the type who would just let a resource like Jameson walk away unchallenged.