I was genuinely perplexed. “Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I definitely don’t need you to tell me I’m pretty or whatever.”

I heard him take a deep breath, and I strongly suspected he was also counting to ten. “Scarlett. My friend,” he said, in a slow, patient voice, like I was kind of an idiot. “You seem to be under the impression that you are not important. That you are a nobody who occasionally gets cornered into doing something big. I’m not sure where you got this stupid idea, but even if it was true once, it is now the opposite of true.”

I blanched. “The hell does that mean?”

“Look around, dummy. You’re the good guy. You are, in fact, a hero.”

A tiny bit of hysterical-sounding laughter escaped my lips. “That’s you. That’s Lex. I’m not like that.”

“You’re more like Lex than you think.”

I didn’t answer, and he filled in the silence. “Scar, you didn’t spend the last few years learning to throw knives, or check a car for explosives, or flip giant men on their asses because you were planning to sit out fights. And you didn’t save Molly because you had no other alternative.”

“What do you mean? That’s exactly why I helped Molly.”

“Oh my God, you stupid woman,” he said affectionately. “You don’t even see that there was a choice, do you? That’s okay. It just means I’m right.”

“I don’t . . . I’m not . . .” I stopped pacing and sat on the edge of the couch, curling my knees to my chest. “I don’t feel like that.”

Jesse sighed audibly. “Listen, moron, because I’m only going to say this one time,” he said in a sharper tone. “The Old World system is full of cracks. You are the champion of all the people who fall through those cracks. And that’s okay, Scar. This is who you were always supposed to become, if you hadn’t gotten sidetracked by that psycho Olivia. Even I can see that, and I’m supposedly on the outside of all this.”

I just sat there, taken aback. I could not think of a single thing to make with my mouth words.

“Anyway,” Jesse went on, “you can stop trying to find a reason not to do what we both know you want: to help this cowboy stop the skinners. Because it’s the right thing to do, and because no one else will.”

“I . . . I . . .”

“What?”

I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat. “I didn’t know there was so much name-calling in motivational speeches.”

“Not everyone does them as well as me,” he said airily. “Do you want me to come out there and help?”

“No. I need you in LA. But Jesse . . .” I paused for a second, trying to figure out what it was that I was so afraid of. “If I come at this thing head-on, blow my cover, the skinners are going to come after me. They’ll pretty much have to.”

“You have allies there, right? The cowboy, the bodyguard, that witch—”

“You make them sound like a bad Village People cover band, but yeah. Probably.” I thought of Jameson, but he had his own plans. I couldn’t count on him to leave the Holmwoods and play for Team Scarlett.

“Then let the skinners come. Maybe that’s how you find them. Just wear your bulletproof vest, okay?” he added hurriedly. “And call me every day, please.”

There was a moment when I could have said . . . what? That I appreciated him? That he was important to me? That his pep talk had meant more to me than I could ever say? Instead, I just said a simple, “Thanks, Jesse.”

“Anytime.”

When I hung up the phone, I sat there for a long time, thinking about Jesse’s words. No matter how I tried to shove the square peg in the round hole, I couldn’t see myself as some kind of champion. Just the word “champion” kind of made me want to barf, like when you see a white dude who’s made a man bun with his dreadlocks. The only heroes I’d ever met were scary badasses, like Lex. And I felt about as scary as the average Yorkshire terrier. The teacup kind.

But then, maybe I didn’t need to see myself as a champion to the overlooked. Maybe it was enough that Jesse did. And Wyatt.

I thought that over for a long time, and then I swallowed my pride and called Dashiell back.

“Hello again, Scarlett,” he said. He’d restricted himself to just a hint of smugness.

“I need a favor,” I said without preamble. “Can you find out if vampires have disappeared in other cities the Holmwoods have visited?”

A beat, and then he said, “You’re thinking the skinners are following them from town to town?”

“It’s just a hunch at this point, but yeah.”

“Hmm. I can make some calls to Europe, but I probably won’t have answers until tomorrow evening, due to the time change.”

“That’s fine. Please just get me whatever information you can.”

Wyatt didn’t return for almost two hours, but when he knocked on my door again, he had a fistful of hotel stationery. “Is that the list?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am. It was more than I’d thought.” He handed over the papers, looking a little triumphant. I looked through them quickly. There were thirty-eight names on the list, and next to each one was the date and location from which the vampire had disappeared. A few of them didn’t have the information filled in yet. “There may be some names missing, too. I’ve put in calls to learn more,” he added.

“Okay, good. I can start with this.”

“Does this mean you’re going to take the job?”

“I have obligations during the day,” I warned. “And I need to go back to LA on Monday. That’s nonnegotiable.”

“I understand.” His eyes were practically dancing, damn him.

“If we can’t find the skinners by then, I’ll give you everything I’ve got and collect half of that.” I nodded at the pile of money.

Carelessly, Wyatt collected all the cash, which was really four small stacks held together with rubber bands. He pocketed three of them and tossed one stack toward my midsection. I managed to catch it, although I found myself not really wanting to touch it. “You should have some walking-around money, in case you need to grease some wheels,” he explained.

“Fine.” The money felt weird in my hand, heavy and surreal. But I could lock most of it in the room’s safe.

“What about the other thing?” he asked. “Helping me move on?”

I pushed out a breath. “Honestly? I’m not saying no, but . . . I need to think about it.”

We negotiated for a little bit, and determined that I would keep fifty grand if I found Ellen’s killer but didn’t help Wyatt with his suicide. If I couldn’t find the killer by the end of the weekend, I would keep the twenty-five grand I had now.

I walked Wyatt to the hotel room door, where he put his hat back on. “Where will you start?” he asked mildly.

I sighed. I needed a better idea of the power structure in Las Vegas before I started dicking around with it. “It’s probably time to go introduce myself to Silvio.”

Chapter 16

I was already tired as I pulled my jeans and boots back on. I was used to staying up until at least three or four—the by-product of working regularly with vampires—but between the long hours of shopping and spending most of the night trying to suppress my radius, it seemed like a week since I’d left Los Angeles, instead of only that morning.

Still, I couldn’t get myself any deeper into the Vegas Old World without talking to the guy who was allegedly in charge. And, giant dickhead or not, Silvio needed to know that skinners were killing vampires in his town. I couldn’t seek justice for Wyatt without giving the actual authority a chance to do his job.

Assuming he didn’t know already. I found it hard to believe that he wouldn’t have noticed thirty-odd missing vampires, but then again, there were thousands of vampires in Las Vegas, and Silvio had been in charge of them for only a few weeks. I could give him the benefit of the doubt, at least a little.

Wyatt had wanted to go see Silvio with me, but I’d refused to let him tag along. I didn’t trust the cowboy to keep his cool if Silvio was as big of a tool as he sounded, and besides, the new cardinal vampire might not take kindly to being challenged by such a weak subject. He was also likely to be annoyed that one of his vampires had gone outside the fold for help. Silvio probably wouldn’t kill me just for going to see him—there would be too many political ramifications, plus nulls are valuable. But I didn’t want Wyatt anywhere near him right now.