“Fewer issues to deal with when I—” She stopped, eyes on the vampire she’d culled from the herd. He was pretty enough, I guess. “You think a human is bad at not knowing when to quit at the gambling table?” she said, chewing the toothpick the cherry had come on. “Try being a vampire, bored and seeing an eternity to find the money you might lose tonight.” She licked her lips for someone else’s benefit, and I stifled a shiver. My eyes flicked to Trent and Pierce. Okay, they were watching her flirt, too, both of them weirdly intent and detached.

Pierce was not happy to be here, which I thought rude since his other option was Al’s box in the ever-after. He’d showered as well, so he smelled like hotel shampoo instead of burnt amber. Frowning, he watched everyone from under his funny hat—it had shown up during his shower—gulping his bubbly soda and wiping his eyes when he drank it too fast. Tumbling his clothes in the hotel drier had taken care of most of the stink on them, and he was back in his tidy slacks, casual shirt, and a vest that was probably from his 1800s closet but looked new. He was still wearing that silver amulet. I had no idea what it was, but I thought it telling that Pierce hadn’t taken it off, even when he’d been in the shower.

Trent wasn’t good company, either, seeing that our planned pit stop had turned into a four-hour break at a restaurant he hadn’t picked out. We all had to get out of the car for a while, and I still wanted to talk to Trent about Ku’Sox—to find out if he knew how bad Ku’Sox was before he let him out or after.

Ivy shifted, her motions screaming sex as she smiled up at our waitress when she came back with another soda for Pierce.

“Do you know what you want?” she said as she set it down, voice raised over the music.

“I’ll have the pasta,” I said, pointing to it on the menu.

“Same,” Pierce said, and I wondered if he could read anything other than Latin. He’d been born in the early 1800s, and it was possible he couldn’t.

“Clam chowder,” Trent said as he handed his menu over.

“I’ll have the tilapia,” Vivian said brightly, a vestige of her usual polished self showing as she settled into a familiar haunt. “With asparagus.”

“Oh God, save us,” Jenks said, dramatically holding his nose. “We do have over a thousand miles left to go in that tiny car.”

“My mom’s car isn’t tiny,” I said, and Trent frowned.

“It is with five people in it,” he muttered.

Ivy was handing her menu to the woman. “I want the steak sandwich,” she said. “In a to-go bag.”

I gazed at her in question, but the woman was nodding. “I’ll put these in,” she said, making a last note on our bill. “Anyone else need anything?”