Page 68 of Kiss of Wrath

“You do realize that you sound like a whack job. Instead of making me understand, you’re just scaring the daylights out of me.”

“You should be scared,” he said, not for the first time.

“Of you?”

“Me, and all others I’ve described for you.”

She thought about his words for a moment. If everything Mordr said was true, she was afraid. But not of him. For some odd reason, she felt safe with him. “I’m not afraid of you,” she told him.

He rolled his eyes. “Do I turn here?”

“Yes. See the ‘Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas’ sign right ahead. It marks the southern tip of the Strip, which runs for more than four miles. My office is one block off Las Vegas Boulevard, at the other end.”

“And this is the route you take to work every day?”

“Mostly. If there’s heavy traffic, I take the longer but less time-consuming way. Actually, we could turn off here, but the scenic route is more fun.”

“Amazing!” Mordr exclaimed as the full tacky, neon-blinking extravaganza of the Strip began to emerge.

She nodded. “I’ve been living here since I graduated from college, and I’m still floored every time I see the Strip at night. There’s round-the-clock action, of course, but its over-the-top glitz is best seen at night.”

“Why would you choose to live in such a place?”

“I had a lot of college loans to pay off, and the offer here was better than any others. And, actually, I like this area. That’s why I stay. It’s not all casinos and gambling. There are neighborhoods. Everyday people who go to work and coach Little League or take their daughters to ballet. Teachers, secretaries, lawyers, accountants, chefs. True, much of the population is dependent in some way on the casinos or big hotels for employment.” She noticed him glance her way with raised brows. “Sorry. I guess I sounded defensive.”

“Is it the best place to raise children?”

“Now I am defensive. How dare you—”

“My words were ill-chosen. I did not mean to give offense. It is just that I picture this country’s children being raised best in small towns where they do not lock doors. Where there is a smiling sheriff who knows everybody. And an aunt who bakes and cooks.”

She stared at him, perplexed. Then she laughed. “Mayberry! I can’t believe you.” She laughed some more, dabbing at her eyes. “You watch a lot of TV, huh?”

She could swear he blushed, but she couldn’t tell for sure in the fading light.

“Yes,” he replied. “Between missions, vangels have a great amount of down time, as you say in this country. Since we are not allowed, or leastways not supposed, to fornicate, or drink to excess, or engage in other worldly activities that almost certainly involve sin, television makes the days and months and years go faster. We entertain ourselves in other ways, too, depending on our interests or talents, but mostly we must remain in seclusion to avoid detection.”

Back to that vampire angel business! “No raping or plundering, either, I suppose,” she teased, reminding him of his Viking heritage.

“That, m’lady, is a myth perpetuated by the biased monk historians of that time. Truth to tell, some Norsemen did such when they went a-Viking, but not all, and not all the time. Besides, men of other countries did the same, or worse. I know of some Saxon soldiers who skinned a man alive and pinned the skin to a church door.”

She shivered with distaste. “Did you?”

“Skin my enemies?”

“No! Rape and pillage?”

At her nod, he replied, “No raping. There were willing women enough at home and abroad, but I do admit to the plundering. Especially churches and monasteries where the priests had no business hoarding gold chalices and silver crosses, not to mention fat sheep and very good cheeses.”

“Cheese? You went a-Viking for cheese?”

She could swear a smile twitched at his lips. Could the man actually have a sense of humor?

After that, they were mostly silent as he drove slowly through the town, passing the big luxurious hotels. The Luxor, Tropicana, MGM Grand, Bellagio, Bally’s, Flamingo, Mirage, Harrah’s, Casino Royale, Wynn, Fontainebleau. Also, the themed hotels, that replicated medieval castles, volcanoes and tropical gardens, or those reminiscent of cities around the world, like the Excalibur, Planet Hollywood, Caesar’s Palace, the Venetian, Treasure Island, the Riviera, and Circus Circus. Then there were the dozens of wedding chapels, many of them Elvis-related.

“Hey, we could drive through the Hunka Hunka Burning Love Chapel and be married in less than an hour.” She pointed to a sign for the neon pink chapel whose sign proclaimed. “In-Car Weddings Quick and Cheap. Elvis Minister Extra.”

“Married!” Mordr exclaimed, and almost rammed into the car in front of them, which was in fact slowing to turn into the Hunka Hunka. “I will never wed again, even if I were permitted to do so, which I am not.”