“What did it say?”

“‘Please convey my apologies to Miss Dougan. I was a little overheated on the flight from Disneyland. I’m sure you understand.’” Rakkim kept his eyes on the Luxor. His doctor said it was scheduled for demolition next year. “What does Darwin have to apologize for? I asked you what had happened after I passed out, and you said you barely spoke on the flight.”

“He’s trying to upset you.”

“It’s working.”

“What did he mean, ‘I’m sure you understand’?” Her eyes flashed. “You see, I could ask the same kind of questions you do. That’s what he wants.” She faced him. “Darwin tried to scare me, and he did scare me, for a moment anyway. Mostly he repulsed me. The strangest thing though…when I think about the conversation now, I think Darwin made a mistake talking to me.” She waved at the brightly clad tourists on the skybridge. “Darwin kept asking me questions, pretending to know more than he does. He has no idea what we’re looking for. The Old One doesn’t trust him with the whole picture, and it bothers Darwin. He feels insulted.”

Rakkim smiled and she smiled back at him. Eager. From the pleasure she took in her insight, Darwin must have done more than try to scare her.

Sarah was serious again. “When you first meet Darwin, he’s so mild and amenable that it’s as if there’s no one there. He’s just so…still. Later though, when you get a really good look at him, you see that there’s this massive ego at the center of him. An ego that can never be filled, never be satisfied. Most of us are defined by an emotional interaction. You can tell who we are by who we’re responsible for. Who we care about. Who we love. Darwin, though…he’s a universe unto himself. The one and only. That’s why he seems so still, because there’s nothing but him as far as his eye can see.” She brushed her lips across Rakkim’s. “Do you want to know a secret?” She bit his earlobe. “If I were the Old One…I’d be scared of Darwin.”

“Let’s go to your hotel,” said Rakkim. “I can go back to the hospital later.”

“Do you think you’re well enough?”

“I’ll just have to stay horizontal. No rough stuff.”

Sarah showed the tip of her tongue. “Where’s the fun in that?”

CHAPTER 52

“Here.” Darwin shoved Rakkim a stack of black, $100 chips. “Go ahead. It doesn’t mean we’re going steady or anything.”

“Where’s my knife?” said Rakkim. “I know you have it.”

Darwin shook the dice. “I was going to keep it as a souvenir.”

“I’ll give you something else to remember me by.”

“Sir?” The stickman at the craps table straightened his black bow tie. “Bets, please.”

Darwin plucked a single chip off Rakkim’s stack, tossed it on the pass line next to his own pink, $1,000 chip. “Now we’re on the same side.” Other than at Disneyland, this evening was the first time Rakkim had gotten a look at Darwin. He was clean-shaven, and supple as a snake. He tossed the dice. Seven.

Cheers from the table. The stickman paid off the winning bets. The table was crowded, people pressed against the railing, laying down bets and talking loudly to one another.

“Press it,” said Darwin, letting ride his now doubled bet and Rakkim’s. Another seven.

Cheers! Players from other tables wandered over, drawn to the energy, squeezing in, throwing down money. Darwin beamed, resplendent in a canary-yellow cashmere sport coat and black-and-yellow-checked pants-the perfect cosmopolitan, one of the moneyed world citizens who flocked to Las Vegas for deals and contacts and high-class sin. Rakkim wasn’t sure if Darwin wanted to blend in, or if it was his true coloration.

Rakkim’s bet had grown to $400. Darwin’s to $4,000. Another seven. The crowd roared with approval.

“You’re my lucky charm.” Darwin put an arm around Rakkim. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you.”

Rakkim pushed him away. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I just thought after all the time we spent playing hide-and-seek we should have some fun.” Darwin shook the dice. The people around the table leaned forward, mouthing prayers. Two Chinese matrons bedecked in jewels screeched encouragement. “I’m disappointed you didn’t bring the little woman. She and I had quite a time while you were being cut on. She practically talked my ear off.”

“She said you were the one doing most of the talking. I think she was bored.”

Darwin kept rattling the dice. “You like to shoot craps?”

“Never played.”

“Best game in the world. Pure action. You walk past a twenty-one table, it’s all this polite banter with the dealer. People sit when they play twenty-one. They plot and practice their computer simulations for that half-percent advantage. Craps is raw aggression, hand-to-hand combat. People screaming, bumping each other, pleading with the dice. None of it does any good. No way to predict the dice. No system. No magic formula. It’s all luck, and no way to know when it’s going to end. And it does end. Once you work out the math, the longer you play twenty-one, the better your odds. Craps is the opposite-the longer you play, the more certain you are to lose. That’s part of the appeal. When you hold the dice, you’re the center of the world. All you can do is ride that hot streak. Ride it until you drop. And you always drop hard. No such thing as a soft landing in craps.”

Rakkim yawned.

“Sir?” The stickman tapped the green felt.

Darwin threw the dice hard, bounced them off the far rail. Eleven. “Pay the table,” he told the stickman as the crowd applauded. He had $16,000 on the line now.

Two expensive redheads at the far end of the table waved.

Darwin waved back. He was average height and weight, easily overlooked except for the energy that radiated from him. Energy that he would mask when necessary, to become the common man again, harmless as a pancake. Now he was a panther, loose and easy, utterly alert. A man who would hate to be surprised. Rakkim thought of Darwin’s car rolling off the road that night in the badlands, the rage he must have felt. Seventeen werewolves slashed to pieces in the rain, and it wouldn’t have been nearly enough. There was never enough for a man like Darwin. He must have stood by the side of the road afterward, the rain sluicing him clean…he would have known Rakkim was watching.

“What are you smiling at?” asked Darwin.

“You.”

Darwin’s mouth twitched, but he kept the appearance of good humor. He held out the dice to Rakkim. “Blow on them.”

“Die.”

Darwin rolled the dice. Snake eyes.

The crowd groaned as the stickman wiped everyone’s bets clean.

“You broke my heart, Rikki,” said Darwin.

“Don’t call me that.”

Darwin pocketed the rest of his chips, hugged Rakkim again. “Let’s get a drink.”

“They’re still your dice, sir!” called the stickman.

Darwin walked away from the table, not looking to see if Rakkim was following. He sat at a table in the lounge, watched Rakkim approach. “You’ve got that slight limp thing down sweet,” he said as Rakkim sat across from him. “That faint wince on the right step, as if you’re trying to hide the pain. Nice touch. The old man probably buys it. I know better. You’re not recovered, but you’re close enough.” Darwin smiled at the waitress, a petite thing in a short, frilly dress, her belly bare, a golden ring in her navel. “Double bourbon. The best small label you’ve got. Same for my friend here.”

Rakkim started to reject the offer, but stopped. “You have Mayberry Hollow? The twelve-year-old?”

The waitress raised an eyebrow. “Yes, sir.”

Darwin watched her wiggle off. “You impressed her.” He sat loosely in the booth, one foot up on the leather seat. The wall at his back. He could see the whole room from here. “I’ve been waiting for you to thank me for saving your life.”