Black Dust Mambo by Adrian Phoenix Page B

door, threw it open, and dashed down the hall for the elevators.
    “Are you outta your mind?” Belladonna asked, her voice coming from right behind Kallie. “You can’t go around punching people! Especially not the master of the Hecatean Alliance.”
    “Why the hell not?”
    “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not having this conversation with you again.”
    “Hey, he was the one who asked ‘Or what?’” Kallie said, breathless. “All I did was answer his question.”
    “Girl, you need to learn to use words, not your fists, to answer questions. Did you count to ten?”
    “Of course,” Kallie lied.
    “Mmm-hmmm. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t outlaw your ass.”
    “He can outlaw every goddamned inch of me. I don’t give a good goddamn.”
    “Y’know that’s what I meant, right? All of you—not just your ass? Though that’d be pretty damned interesting.”
    Kallie ignored her. Halting at the elevator doors, she slapped her palm against the Down button. The arrow pointing down lit up orange.
    “Where we going, by the way?” Belladonna asked, stopping beside her.
    “Other than away? Goddamned if I know. I just need to think. You don’t need to jump off the cliff with me. Go on back. You ain’t in trouble and—”
    “Ever heard of guilt by association?” Belladonna cut in. “Besides, I promised Gabrielle. Let’s go to my room. Get you calmed down and into something more useful for a walk outside than a pink bathrobe.”
    Kallie glanced down at herself. “Good idea, but isn’t your room the first place they’ll look for us?” She nodded a polite good morning at the couple standing on the opposite side of the elevator doors and tugged her bathrobe belt a pull tighter. The couple, dressed casually for breakfast in shorts, pentacle-laced tees, and fanny packs pretending to be hip wallets, cautiously returned the nod.
    “Yeah, most likely, that’s why you’ll be in the Wiccan’s room across the hall while I grab clothes.” Belladonna tapped the Up button.
    “Will the Wiccan be okay with that?”
    “Given that I’ve caught him spying on you with binoculars, I think he’ll be more than okay with that. Just be sure to jiggle a bit.”
    Spying? Binoculars? Jiggle?
    Before Kallie could untangle a proper retort, a flash of movement down the hall drew her gaze. Basil Augustine stood in the center of the hall’s Persian carpet, rubbing his jaw and speaking into a slim cell phone. He turned to face the elevators, but remained where he was. Just watching. And speaking into the cell. Goddamned lovely.
    Kallie swiveled around and stabbed the Up button one more time. “C’mon, already,” she muttered. Beyond the closed steel doors, cables groaned and creaked.
    “Maybe we should take the stairs,” Belladonna said. “It’s only two flights.”
    “Another good idea.” Kallie hurried over to the door marked exit and pushed it open. She raced up the stairs, her bare feet slapping against the concrete, Belladonna just a step behind her. Shoving through the exit door onto the sixth floor, Kallie trotted down the hall, glancing automatically at the gold numbers on the doors as she passed.
    “What’s the goddamned spying Wiccan’s room number?”
    “Room 632—just up ahead and to the right.”
    A woman’s shrill scream raked across Kallie’s taut nerves like badger claws. Adrenaline poured like jet fuel through her veins, propelled by years of Gabrielle’s teaching: Never turn yo’ back on another in need, honey-girl. Help and heal, always. No matter de cost to yo’self.
    She bolted down the hall, swinging to the right, then came to a dead stop. Magic ripe with a rotten-egg-and-bitter-wormwood stench thickened the air.
    Surrounded by scattered bed linen, a man lay sprawled on the hall floor, half in and half out of his room, his hands at his throat. Water gleamed on his face and dampened the carpet around him, soaked his hair. A hotel maid with long, dark ringlets framing her face knelt beside him,