Free Playing Against Type: Soulgirls, Book 4 by Heather Long Page A

away.
    “Are we?” Because she was beginning to have her doubts.

Chapter Six
    He delivered a weary Pepper back to her room and accepted her dismissal against his better judgment. The desire to sweep her room for magical interference overwhelmed him, but she’d planted her hand against his chest and shook her head. Brushing off her rejection wouldn’t do, he’d pushed her hard enough for one day.  
    So he let her go and went back to his room to check the recordings. It was none of his damn business if she wanted to stay. He saw conspiracies everywhere—it was what the Royale did to people. Fed off their hopes, dreams, and fears. Chances were high she’d enjoy her vacation and go home without any trouble whatsoever. And just because she could leave didn’t mean they hadn’t anticipated my need to check that facet of her. She was so tired when I left her. Too tired. Maybe it took everything in her to be beyond its walls. It worried him.  
    The fact that he worried troubled him more.
    Opening the door to his room, the scent of cedar and cut grass burned his nostrils. His skin tightened and itched with the sensation of thousands of ants crawling across his body. Whatever—or whoever—had been in his room leaked magic like mad and it lay over everything. He checked his laptop and found it dead. Completely fried. The cameras in his supply pack were equally disabled.
    Everywhere—whatever it was had been everywhere in his room. He ran his palm across the desk. The magic clung like cobwebs over his skin and he tore through them even as he soaked up the power. One by one, he shredded the spells until a fine layer of dust filmed the wood. The slender, octagon shaped wooden box sat exactly where he left it. The fine layer of magic on the room didn’t even disturb the air over it. Satisfied, he turned his attention to his things. It took him the better part of an hour to dispose of the trap spells layered throughout the room—they’d even bespelled the sheets.
    Idiots. Either they didn’t know his protections or they didn’t care. This was beyond the work of an amateur, it was more like a child had bounced off all the walls. The knock at his door didn’t help his mood. He checked the peephole and sighed. Fairuk. The woman wouldn’t give up. He considered ignoring her, but the thought of Pepper walking down the hall and seeing the stranger out there held little appeal. Freeing the locks, he pulled the door open. “What, Fairuk?”
    Her black eyes held reproach, and the half-veil hid the rest of her mutinous expression. “May I come in?”
    Checking the hall, his gaze lingered on Pepper’s door just two away from his own. He motioned Fairuk to enter and stalked over to the windows. He’d opened the curtains wide to let in the sunshine. Most of the rooms in the casino could be modified to suit the whim of the owner. His looked like any other generic hotel room in any city in the world. The dancer’s presence here in this homogenous setting was as out of place as a car seat on a camel.
    “What do you want?” He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. He needed to decide whether he wanted to pursue his mother’s disappearance or head back to Washington and get on with his real work.
    “You know what I desire. Vengeance, I believe you said.” She bowed her head, offering a demure, submissive picture. She really shouldn’t have left her job in the theatre, the consummate actress was a professional liar.
    “Well don’t hold back, Fairuk. Tell me how you really feel.” Finn leaned back against the desk and folded his arms. Everything about being in the hotel aggravated him right now.
    “I feel like you are the only living legacy of Marguerite DuBois.” She shed the façade of passivity and stalked toward him. “You came here to deliver justice like the hand of God.”
    “I’m not the hand of God and vengeance is hardly justice. You want me to destroy the Arcana Royale.” Might as well put their cards on the