I finally spotted the person I was looking for at a blackjack table in the corner, sitting calmly with his hands resting against the lip. A dark-skinned human in a bright red suit, matching hat perched atop his head. His gaze was riveted to the pair of cards in front of him: three of spades and nine of clubs. Crossing my arms, I leaned against a nearby column to watch. The human in the red suit tapped the table edge. The dealer flipped a card, a five of clubs, bringing the total to seventeen. The human paused, then very deliberately tapped the table again. The dealer flipped one more, turning up a five of hearts. Twenty-two and bust.

The man in the suit sniffed, rose from the chair and turned to face me.

“You threw that hand,” I said. “You knew perfectly well it was going to go over.”

He gave me a brilliant smile. “Oh, sure, please announce it to the whole casino,” he said in a low voice, holding my gaze and grinning the entire time. His gold tooth glimmered in the artificial lights. “Blackjack isn’t really my thing, but since I was meeting you tonight, I figured I didn’t have time for an honest game of Texas Hold’em. Funny thing about blackjack, though. Win too often, and they start watching you. Keep winning, and they’ll accuse you of card counting, which is perfectly legal in the grand state of Nevada and will get you banned from every casino on and off the Strip for life. That’s the number-one rule in this town. The House always wins. Always.” He continued to smile, but it had an edge now, and the eyes above the teeth were hard. “So I’d be ever so grateful if some cocky lizard didn’t blow my cover and force me to change identities again. Now, laugh, you son of a bitch, like I said something hilarious.”

He threw back his head and bellowed with laughter. I managed a chuckle, shaking my head. “Haven’t changed at all, have you, Griffin?”

“Only my name,” he responded with another grin, this one genuine. “And my face. And my personality. Helping you, if I remember. And I’m about to do it again, aren’t I?”

“Who’s the guy who got you out in the first place?”

“Touché.” He gave me a rueful look. “What do you need, Riley?”

I shot a brief, wary glance at the numerous black globes on the ceiling, the cameras watching our every move. “Is this a safe place to talk?”

“Not in the slightest,” he replied cheerfully. “Do you need a drink? I feel like I need a drink. Come on.”

And he started across the casino floor, weaving through the crowds like he’d done it all his life. I followed him, keeping a wary eye out for anyone who might be watching. No one seemed to pay us any attention, except casino security, who eyed my dusty boots and black leather jacket with the same bored suspicion as they did everyone else. Clearly, they’d seen far stranger. Or thought they had, anyway.

We left the casino floor, and ducked into a crowded restaurant with dim lighting and dozens of flat screens lining the walls, all playing sports of various kinds. Humans sat like pigeons along the bar or clustered around tables, laughing, talking and oblivious to the world around them. Griffin and I took a booth in the corner. A group of college-age guys sat behind us, but with all the noise and chaos, I wasn’t worried about eavesdroppers. The waitress took our drink orders and hurried off, leaving us in peace.

Griffin eyed me over the table. “So,” the human began, folding his hands together. “Here we are. What brings you to Vegas, Riley?”

I sighed. “What do you think?”

“Hmm. Well, considering all the hubbub around the city of late, I’m guessing nothing good. I assume you’re the reason St. George has moved in recently?” Griffin went on, making my stomach tighten. “Seems like they’re on the warpath, and mighty pissed about something. Word on the street is that Talon is not happy with the Order being in their territory and are scrambling over each other trying to figure out what’s going on. I’m thinking you poked a stick down a wasp nest and stirred it up a bit. Then kicked it for good measure.”

“You could say that.” I paused as the waitress returned with our drinks, then tossed the alcohol back, finishing the Scotch in two swallows. I didn’t drink very often; it was tough to get a dragon wasted, even one in human form, so I didn’t see much point in it. Tonight, though, I’d make an exception. Griffin drank his bourbon slowly, watching me over the glass rim, waiting for an explanation. I gave him a faint smirk. “Someone might have…snuck into their western chapterhouse and broken a prisoner out last week.”

“Holy shit, Riley.” The human lowered his glass with a look of disbelief and horror. “The Order chapterhouse itself? So, what you’re telling me is you’ve gone insane.”

“Very likely,” I muttered.

“One of your hatchlings?”

“No.” I scrubbed a hand through my hair. “One of them.”

He stared at me, then used both hands to point at himself. “Okay, see this face? This is my what-the-hell face. Seriously, Riley. What. The. Hell. You snuck into enemy territory, dropped a figurative wasp down their pants and then brought that mess here, so I have to deal with it? Are you out of your freaking mind? Why would you do such a thing?”

“It’s…complicated.” He continued to give me his what-the-hell expression, and I scowled. “Look, I don’t need you to understand or approve of what I did. What I need is to know why my safe houses keep disappearing, and how St. George suddenly knows exactly who I am and where I’ll be. If there’s a mole in the network, I want to know about it. And I need to find out what Talon is up to, where they are, if they know I’m here. Think you can grease a couple palms and dig up some dirt for me?”