Levitating Las Vegas(80)
Author: Jennifer Echols

Elijah threw his arms up to protect his head. The point found its home with Rob’s first try. Elijah could hardly believe the pain in his arm, or the fact that he’d actually been stabbed.

As Rob withdrew the knife for another stab, he thought about what he was going to do to Holly later that night. With Elijah’s powers gone, he wouldn’t be as useful to the Res in manipulating Holly to help take over the casino. It would be harder to rein her in. An out-of-control levitator that strong would be a liability to the Res rather than an asset. So Rob would position his forearm across Holly’s slender neck and bear his weight down on her throat. She would put both hands around his arm and try to push him away, but mind changers would make her think he was too strong and heavy. She would gasp hoarsely.

Elijah punched Rob in the side of the head to knock that fantasy out of Rob’s brain.

Rob reached through the air to stab Elijah again. Elijah dodged an inch out of the way. The momentum of Rob’s stroke sent him sliding across the floor. He came to a stop against the cabinets, Holly’s high-heeled shoes hanging above him.

Elijah didn’t want Rob anywhere near Holly with that knife—not when Rob was already planning to kill her. He dove for Rob, hoping to knock the knife out of his hand. But they read each other’s minds, and neither of them could surprise the other. Rob held fast to the knife. Elijah gripped Rob’s arm. They rolled across the tile, muscles straining. Rob put all his weight on top of Elijah. Elijah’s bruised back would not help him dump Rob off. The point of the knife vibrated just above Elijah’s eye.

People crowded around them as if they were a Vegas boxing match. Elijah felt their adrenaline and their fear, their skin tingling and their heads throbbing with power.

“Rob, we don’t kill people like that,” a girl called. “We can’t let it look like a murder.”

“Rob, what are we going to do with the body?” a boy asked.

“Change Rob’s mind,” Carter said.

“I’m not f**king changing his f**king mind!” April shrieked. The mere suggestion that she might change Rob’s mind would propel Rob to get revenge on her later, and she was terrified.

The knife had almost reached Elijah’s eye. He kept Rob’s hands away with all his strength, but Rob literally had the upper hand and gravity on his side. Elijah could feel the blade against his lashes when he blinked. He could see the gleaming point shifting from orange to red in the light of the lava lamp, and beyond that, Holly’s shadowed face looking gravely down on him.

“Holly,” he gasped, “whose side are you on?”

Holly was on Rob’s.

A boom sounded behind them, and then a sharp crack. Rob howled in pain. Elijah felt Rob’s pain too. Rob’s hand was hit. Elijah rolled out from under him just as the knife came down.

Beyond the crowd, Shane edged into the room, his Glock pointed at Rob. “Your pistol,” he said. “Toss it.”

Grimacing, Rob unsnapped his holster, placed his gun carefully on the floor, and shoved it with his boot. It spun across the floor and hit the island.

Shane kept his own pistol extended as he scooped up Rob’s and pocketed it, then announced, “It doesn’t matter if you change my mind. My brother is outside, just out of your range, with a shotgun pointed at you. My dad and my uncle are behind him with rifles.”

In confirmation, several shots echoed outside. Bullets clattered against the rock exterior of the house. A window broke with a zing and a crashing of glass.

Shane walked up to April and holstered his pistol. “Oh, you want me to change my mind about keeping my gun out? Okay.” He backhanded her across the face. The sickening sound echoed off the hard surfaces of the appliances. She fell against Carter. Shane followed her down, shouting, “Where’s Kaylee?”

Everyone pointed toward the hallway.

“Fucking animals.” Shane stomped out of the kitchen.

Elijah monitored every mind in the deathly still crowd. Rob’s mind was loudest. He wanted to kill Shane. He’d wanted to kill Shane all week. He made a fist of his ruined hand so the pain seared through him, fueling his fury.

But the rest of them were more concerned for their own well-being. Elijah took a chance and rose painfully from the floor, his back throbbing, arm throbbing, eyebrow throbbing. None of the mind changers stopped him.

They’d abandoned their grip on Holly, too, but Holly didn’t realize it. He approached her slowly, expecting her to throw him across the room again. She watched him warily from the countertop, furious with him for making her think he loved her when he’d loved her sister all along. But she didn’t strike him.

He moved in until his hips bumped against her bare knees. He looked deep into her dark eyes. “All of that is a lie,” he growled. “Come with me.”

She didn’t believe him.

He slid both hands onto her knees. “I will be very angry with you if you don’t come with me.”

She didn’t trust him, but his pupils dilated to the edges of his green irises, which fascinated her.

He moved his hands up her thighs. “Come with me now, and you can always come back here later. They’ll be waiting for you. Right, everybody?” He looked over his shoulder.

They were gone. He looked over his other shoulder. Every member of the Res had disappeared, leaving behind only the rock music and the strobe lights and a black puddle of Rob’s blood in the corner.

Shane reappeared with Kaylee’s limp body over his shoulder. “Elijah. Get Holly and come on.” He ducked through the front doorway.

Elijah eased Holly off the counter. He thought she would resist him even now, but she grasped his hand and squeezed it as he pulled her out of the Res, into the hot night.

He held her hand tightly, afraid to let her go, as they hiked down the dirt road. Shane walked just ahead of them, Kaylee’s platinum-blond hair bobbing against the back of his tux jacket. Her arms hung limp at first, but as Elijah watched she started to move, and in his mind he could feel her struggling back to consciousness, a burning pain in her temple. The pill he’d swallowed was taking longer to kick in than he’d thought it would. Around them in the night, Frank Sinatra and Shane’s brother and uncle, all in tuxedos, walked backward down the road, long guns pointed at the front door of the Res, now shut against them. The crunching of gravel underfoot was the only sound.

“Put me down,” Kaylee murmured against Shane’s back. Gaining full consciousness, she shouted, “Shane! You pistol-whipped me and knocked me out, you bastard!”