Riley gave an amused snort, as if he couldn’t help himself, and eased forward, sweeping the beam around the barren lobby. “Try not to burn down the hotel, Firebrand,” he warned, as the light slid over the front desk, which was covered in several layers of dust and cobwebs. “This place is a tinderbox. One spark, and it’s likely to explode.” Something small and furry darted across the floor and vanished into a crack in the wall. Riley shook his head. “Actually, that might not be a bad thing, but if an abandoned, multimillion-dollar hotel suddenly goes up in smoke, it’ll tell Talon and the Order exactly where we are. So no fireballs.”

“Oh, fine,” I whispered back, as we ventured farther into the hotel, following a wall as it curved away into the dark. “That’s okay. If we are attacked by zombies, I don’t have to run fast. I just have to run faster than you.”

Garret’s hand suddenly closed on my arm in a grip of steel, pulling me to a stop. At the same time, Riley froze. I looked past the thin beam of light from Riley’s hand and tensed.

We’d reached the edge of what was probably the casino floor, had the hotel been finished. The room beyond was large and open; I could see the aisles of carpet where slot machines would go, the long strips for blackjack tables. Though the space was vast, it was even hotter here than in the lobby, and the smell was so bad it nearly knocked me down. I didn’t know how anyone could stand it, but the small clusters of ragged, unwashed people scattered about the room didn’t seem to notice.

A few yards away, a trio of humans sat huddled on a stained, threadbare mattress, giggling as they passed something small and bright between them. The glow of a lantern washed over their slack, pale faces and staring eyes. Nearby, another human glanced up from where he sat on an ancient sofa between two human girls. The girls stared at us, expressions slack and far away, but the guy’s face hardened and he rose quickly.

“This ain’t a public party, friends,” he said with a menace-filled smile. He was tall and lanky, his torn jeans just barely clinging to narrow hip bones. A filthy red hoodie covered his head, even in the heat, and his eyes were bulging and eager. “I think you’re a little lost. That’s too bad, ain’t it?”

Riley crossed his arms. “You mean this isn’t the Palazzo?” he said, his voice echoing through the bare beams overhead. “Well, don’t I feel silly. Especially since I blew all my cash on the penny slots.” His voice changed, becoming slightly more ominous. “I don’t suppose we can skip the pleasantries and get to the part where we walk through unmolested?”