"Y'know-" Kyle stumbled over a crack in the pavement "-I think I could stand a little something to soak up the booze."

"Hey, what are Gas'n'Grab burritos for?" Faith punched him playfully on the arm; either her blow packed more force than she intended or Kyle was drunker than she thought. He lurched to his left and ended up hopping on one foot to maintain his balance. "Yeah, Red Ryder, we better get something in you."

"Or we'll get something in you," he leered.

"Keep that thought, man's gotta have a goal." She shook her head.

"And, just like that, you're official." Raven tapped the papers Faith had signed into a perfect stack, then secured them with a paperclip. "Welcome to the wonderful world of magic."

"Uh-huh." Faith's mouth puckered and she looked away toward the wall.

Raven dropped the papers in a filing cabinet, then handed a lanyard across the desk. "This is your temporary employee badge, wear it until we get you a permanent one. You know where the hotel desk is? Go see Chloe, she'll get you set up with a room key."

Faith held up the lanyard, the plastic pocket dangling before her face. "You've done this before."

"Oh, we get a lot of turnover here." Raven shoved the drawer shut with a bang. "Show starts at eight, you can watch from the booth tonight, get a feel for it."

"For the show?"

"Yeah." Raven got up and went to the door. She looked back as she opened it. "You're working afternoons, but if someone doesn't show up or Kyle runs into something where he needs help, I'd like for you to know the general shape of the act."

Faith shrugged as she got up. "Okay. See you in a few."

The Gas'n'Grab was a garish neon oasis at the corner of Hickory and 7th. One of the town's quirks was that north-south streets were named after trees and east-west ones were numbered. They stumbled out of the dark into the lopsided circle of illumination created by the canopy over the gas pumps; the cracked concrete presented more of an obstacle than it should have, but they tripped across the uneven surface and pitched up on the stable port of the sidewalk, giggling. Jesus, Faith thought, I'm really drunk.

The alert bell dinged as they pushed open the door and staggered inside. The bright lights left them dazed and blinking. Faith wiped her eyes with the heel of one hand and looked toward the counter. "Hey, Jorge, what's up?"

Jorge tipped his head slightly toward the door. Faith's head swiveled to look over her shoulder, just in time to see the black-and-white come to a stop. Kyle saw it at the same time.

"Hey," he said, "I don't think-"

"I don't think so, either," she said. "C'mon." Grabbing him by the elbow, Faith propelled them around a corner and down the aisle to the corner of the store farthest from the door. The door chimed again and a man wearing a khaki shirt and brown trousers pushed through. His nametag and badge were pinned above the shirt's left breast pocket and a sidearm was holstered at his hip.

"Good," Kyle whispered. "It's Wes."

Faith sat on the edge of the bed and bounced gingerly, as though a bomb might be hidden beneath the box springs. The room might not be the Presidential Suite at the Luxor, but it was heaven to someone who had been catching catnaps on buses and snatching fitful sleep on benches. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and realized why Bill the Security Guard had been so suspicious. She flopped back on the bed and reached out one arm to the desk phone.

"Yeah," she said when the desk answered, "you got razors? Shaving cream? Yeah, and toothpaste and… ah, hell, just send up one of everything."

Shaved, showered, shampooed, and wrapped in a fluffy white robe, Faith scarfed down the room-service cheeseburger while HBO played on the TV. It was showing some animated movie about a girl who was the daughter of the czar of Russia, but she had amnesia because she'd hit her head… something like that. It was weird, because she blinked and the screen was full of creepy animated ants. Faith also realized that she had slid down until her head rested in the crook where the back of the sofa met the arm and her neck was stiff. She blinked, pulled herself upright, and rubbed her eyes. A glance at the wall clock confirmed that her 'blink' had lasted about forty-five minutes.

"Okay," she said, getting clumsily to her feet, "now that I'm all refreshed…" She dug through her gym bag and came up with a pair of black jeans and a faded red Smiths T. She threw them on and raked her hair back, then considered her footwear choices. Her Docs were always there, as well as the Chelsea boots Joyce had purchased, but Faith wasn't really feeling boots. She went to the closet where she'd found the robe; on the shelf above the hanger was a pair of complimentary terrycloth slippers. She shrugged and slipped her feet into the soft plush, checked her pocket for the room key, then slipped out into the hallway.

The elevator door dinged and opened onto a bustling scene; the casino was bright, loud, and chaotic… all pluses in Faith's book. She went down the hall past the double doors of the main room, the lobby on her right, and came to the theater. She realized that she did not have her employee lanyard, but no one was checking at the door: apparently the show was a freebie. She slipped inside and eased along the back wall past Raven's office until she came to the stairwell tucked into the corner. She ducked under the chain with the 'No Balcony Seating' placard and jogged up the steps, coming out on the narrow mezzanine that ran the width of the room. The sound and light boards were dead-center in the middle of the space; Kyle was perched on a tall swivel chair, his face bathed in a green glow that sharpened the planes and points of his face. He glanced at her and motioned with his head for her to come closer. Faith shuffled forward, the slippers silent on the carpeted floor. Some sort of odd classical music played over the sound system.

"Chair back there," Kyle whispered. "Best seat in the house." Faith went to the back wall and found a twin to his chair; she rolled it forward and sat beside the board, her forearms resting on the rail.

The music crescendoed and faded; Kyle worked sliders on the board and the lights dimmed. The recorded announcement boomed over the speakers:

"Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to be amazed, astounded, and mystified, to doubt your own senses as you witness the unparalleled artistry of… Raven Fox!" The theater went black for a split-second, then the bright-white spot clicked on. Raven stood perfectly still in the center, one hand above her head, then, with a flourish, dropped into a low curtsy. The crowd went wild.

Faith sat up straight, the skin on her forearms tightening. Raven had been beautiful in her polo and jeans and now, in her tailcoat, fishnets, and heels, with full stage makeup, she was breathtaking, but that was not what prompted the Slayer's reaction. There was an aura around the magician, almost a shimmering cloud, a magnetism that drew all eyes to her as she came down the steps and into the aisle, looking for a volunteer.

And she was good, so good. She did card tricks and coin tricks, close enough to the crowd to make it seem impossible for her to fool anyone, only to pull off each illusion with a sang-froid that left the audience first gasping, then laughing. She flirted with heavyset men in trucker caps and commiserated with ladies in polyester pants and floral tops. She flipped cards out over the crowd, the pasteboard pinwheeling through the air, then settling like a butterfly over a guest's glass, each time receiving an astonished "Yes!" when she asked if that was their card. Two older gentlemen were left goggle-eyed when their caps disappeared, mollified by Raven's production of brand-new casino-branded caps, then their old headgear. She didn't just have the crowd eating out of her hand; she could have made them eat pig slop and swear it was peppermint.

She finished with a stunt that left Faith open-mouthed: Raven pulled a single deck of cards from the inside pocket of her coat, then somehow produced a card fountain that spewed hundreds of rectangles into the air and, when the final card fell to the floor, revealed an empty stage. There was a moment of stunned silence, then the crowd lost their minds. As the ovation faded, Kyle brought up the house lights. "So, what did you think?"

"Wow," Faith said.

"Yeah, 'wow'." Kyle flicked switches and the green glow faded. "Something, right?"

Faith searched for the right words. "She was better than I thought she'd be."

"Uh-huh. 'Better' how?"

The Slayer tilted her head."I guess I thought she was eye candy for the old dudes after they lose all their cash."

"Nope." Kyle flipped the last switch; the balcony plunged into darkness, alleviated by the ambient glow of the exit signs. "She's the real deal. I've watched the show… I don't know how many times, and I still can't tell how she does some of it." He picked up a bag that might have been the smaller sibling of the one up in Faith's suite. "So, be here eleven or so tomorrow, we'll go over any notes Raven has for us, make any adjustments, look over some ideas." He hitched the bag over his shoulder. "Then we could grab something to eat before the show… if you want."

"Girl's gotta eat." Faith headed toward the stairs.

"If that's a 'yes'-"

"It is. A girl has gotta eat."

"Okay. Um, there's a place in town, has good pizza."

"You don't just eat at the restaurant here?"

"God, no. I spend enough time in this place. Besides, it's kinda depressing, being around people who are just stress-eating before they go back and throw away the rest of their money."

"Hey, it's your town. Pizza it is."

Kyle shoved open the door and Faith stood blinking for a moment in the sudden illumination. Across the hall, the casino was still half-full, even at the late hour. Faith turned suddenly. "Hey, you wanna get something to drink, a, I don't know, beer or something?"

Kyle nodded toward her pocket. "Drinking age in Cali is twenty-one. What's your ID say?"

Faith swore under her breath. "Nineteen."

"Yeah. They're not gonna serve you here. Last thing the Kupok need is the liquor board on 'em for serving minors." Kyle grinned. "Tell you what, I'll buy you a beer tomorrow night. I don't think anyone at the joint will mind."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "You trying to corrupt a minor?"

He held up both hands, palms out. "Hey, is that an admission that you aren't over eighteen?"

"Shut the fuck up." Faith laughed in spite of herself.

"See you in the morning." Kyle turned left and walked through the lobby. Faith watched him say something to Bill the Doorman and vanish into the dark. She leaned back, stretching, then shook herself before turning toward the casino. Banks of slot machines stood just inside the doors, about a third of them still occupied. More organized games occupied the back of the main floor: roulette to her right, a couple of blackjack tables straight ahead, craps to the left. She had spent enough time in Southie watching guys shoot craps at the schoolyard that she drifted in that direction. Five men were arranged around the table, cracking wise and slinging double entendres at the waitress as they ordered more drinks and placed their chips. A series of doors was set into the back wall, probably private rooms for poker or something. Faith drifted to the left, toward the restaurant at the end of the room. She hopped up on a stool at the bar as a girl in a white smock and paper hat approached.

"Can I help you?" the server asked brightly.

Faith surveyed the brightly lit menu. "Yeah, gimme a…" A sardonic smile appeared. "Gimme a chocolate shake."

"You want whipped cream with that?"

"Oh, yeah, whipped cream, nuts, whatever you can put on, do it."

"Okey-dokey, one super-deluxe chocolate shake coming up."

As the girl hurried away, Faith rotated on the stool and leaned back against the counter. She noticed a man crossing the floor; he was medium height, wide build, thick black hair in a brushy cut, short forehead, cheeks that had seen a bad case of acne when he was young, and small, hard eyes. He wore a dark blazer with a crest on the pocket; even across the room, Faith recognized the casino's logo. She noticed his hands: the fingers were curled, as though he held the strap of an invisible bag or expected to close them into fists. He walked with a heavy stride until he reached one of the doors in the back of the room. He paused, glanced quickly over his shoulder, then opened the door and slipped inside. Faith shook her head.

"Here ya go."

Faith swiveled back. A large fluted glass stood before her, a straw and spoon buttressing the precariously balanced cascade of whipped cream and nuts. She sighed and dug in. When the treat was finished, she made her way to the elevator and up to the suite, the approaching sugar-and-dairy coma threatening to catch her. As she collapsed onto the mattress, Faith thought that she had never been in a softer bed.

"So, what's on the menu today?" Faith stifled a yawn. She stood loose and easy, her hands shoved into her hip pockets, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

Kyle looked up into the darkness of the theater's ceiling. "One, six, and seven in row three need adjustment, then I want to run a couple of new automations, make sure they look like I want before I mention them to Raven."

Faith nodded as though she understood any of what he'd said. "What am I doing?"

Kyle looked at her, bemused. "You familiar with a scissor lift?"

"Not unless that's one of the exercises I wouldn't do in gym class."

"Come on." Kyle led the Slayer to the front of the theater. He went to the left of the stage and pressed a catch in the molding. A door swung open and Kyle disappeared inside. Faith heard a click and a low growl, then Kyle reappeared, walking beside what looked like a mobile scaffold. "Scissor lift," he said. "Goes up to eighteen feet." He patted the metal. "This is how we get to the lights out here."

"Awesome. I get to drive that?" Faith grinned.

"What? No, no way." Kyle shook his head. "Make a mistake with the lift, you could take out half a row of seats. No, you're gonna be up on the stage, actually in the catwalk over the stage… I guess I should've asked, do heights bother you?"

Faith shook her head. "Not even a little."

"Great. Anyway, I'll be working out here, I'm gonna ask you to check out some stuff over the stage, then I'm gonna give you a sound meter and a frequency analyzer and have you take some readings while I'm in the booth. Sound like fun?"

Faith pulled a face. "Monkeys, barrel, fill in the rest." She trotted up the steps to the stage, then turned back. "How do I get up there?"

Kyle pointed. "There's a ladder stage right, behind the curtain."

"Cool, I'll yell 'Land, ho'."

""You said you wanted to go over some ideas?" Raven stood at the back of the theater, hands on hips, as Kyle put the scissor lift back into storage. Faith crouched on the catwalk above the stage, watching. Today Raven wore threadbare old khakis and a sleeveless mock-turtleneck with horizontal stripes.

"Yeah, I was thinking that at cue fourteen it might be interesting to bring in the red spots in from the right, B-12 and 13, cut two of the blues overhead, A-5 and 6 probably, and throw up yellow C-1 and 3. I think it'll warm up the presentation, keep everybody focused." Kyle took a breath. "Fourteen seems to be where some of the audience attention wanders."

Raven looked up toward the ceiling, first left, then right. "Sure. I can see it. Let's do it tomorrow night, okay?"

"You don't want to wait until Tuesday?"

The magician shook her head. "Nah. I see what you're getting at, and I think you're right. Just remind me before showtime." She pointed at the stage. "Everything going all right, Glynda?"

Faith started. She had not moved or made any noise. "Uh, yeah, sure. Five by five."

"Excellent. I'll see you all both at show time."

"Okay, that's good. Nice. I think that's a wrap."

Faith squinted past the lights. "Great." She jogged down the steps, each hand holding a plastic rectangle with rounded corners and a screen. One of the rectangles was orange with a yellow display; the other was black with green. She went up the staircase to the booth and handed the equipment to Kyle. "When does the creature come to life, Frankenstein?"

"I know, I know, but I try to be really sure before I suggest anything to Raven."

"Really? Are you, like, scared of her?" Faith leaned against the wall while Kyle put everything away.

"No, not scared of her, but…" Kyle sat down on an equipment case. "You saw how smooth she was last night, how on everything was." He patted the case and stood. "I've watched her almost every night for eight months and, like I said, she's really good. I can't figure out how she does it, and I get to see the show from here, but here's the thing… I've never seen her rehearse."

As he started down the stairs, Faith fell in behind him. "Whatta you mean?"

Kyle glanced over his shoulder and stumbled slightly. "I've never seen her practice a bit."

Faith shrugged as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "I admire a confident woman."

"It's not just that, it's…as good as she is, it always feels like there's more, something she doesn't touch, like all this-" Kyle's gesture encompassed the theater "-just barely occupies her attention, like, she's amazing at this and she's not even trying."

"Well, you know what they say, never let 'em see you sweat. Maybe she does all her grunt work at home, or when nobody's here."

"Maybe, but I don't think so."

"So, she's just really good and she improvs everything."

"No," Kyle said. "The lights and the sound run too close. She hits every mark on time and at exactly the right angle." He shook his head. "That lighting change I mentioned? She'll never even walk through it, but it'll be perfect every time. I think it's more like Tim Duncan playing against high schoolers. This just doesn't stretch her."

"Wow," Faith said. "Sounds like you're in love."

"Don't bust my balls," Kyle scoffed. He glanced at his watch. "We've got a little over two hours until show time. Hungry?"

"Is the Pope Polish?"

Kyle looked down at her. "I have no idea."

Faith clicked her tongue. "He is. Let's go."

The pizza place was a tumble-down adobe structure on the east side of town. Kyle's truck, a Ford Ranger with a rust-eaten right rear quarter panel and blistered paint on the hood, fit right in. They entered through a dim bar, lined faces turning briefly from the wall-mounted TV showing Jeopardy. Kyle nodded and exchanged pleasantries as he passed through into another room, one brightened (relatively) by windows set high in the north wall.

"So," Kyle said as they sat down at a formica-topped chrome table that might have come from a grandma's kitchen, "you like Belgian ales?"

"Is that beer?" Faith asked as she settled into her seat.

"Yes," he replied.

"Then I'll like it."

"Okay." He went to the counter and spoke to the server, who barked an order through a pass-through window into the bar, then handed him two dripping, frosty bottles. He plunked them down on the table. "Here," he said, "Damnation from Russian River Brewing over in Guerneville."

Faith took a long pull. "Oh, yeah," she said, "now I get it. You can really taste the Belgian, none more Belgian."

He nodded as he sat down. "Okay, now you are just busting my balls."

"Yeah." She tipped the bottle again. "It's good, but, honestly, not sure it's that much of an improvement over a six pack of Natty Light."

Kyle clutched at his chest. "Oh, god, that just hurts." He saluted her with his bottle and took a drink. "Philistine."

She took another swig. "So, how did you end up here?"

Kyle looked over his shoulder, checking for the pizza. "I didn't 'end up' here. I got interested in sound and lighting in high school."

"When was that?" Faith leaned back against the wall, rolled the beer in her hand, and took a drink.

"High school? I graduated in '96."

Faith's bottle stopped halfway to her mouth. "Wait a minute, you've been busting my chops and you're like, what, twenty?"

"Twenty-one." Kyle winked as he took a drink. "I had an early birthday."

"Bullshit." Faith shook her head.

"Anyway, I went to community college, did a two-year program in sound and lighting design, ran the sound for a couple of the college productions, grabbed fill-in and free-lance spots anyplace I could, then once I built any kind of resume, I applied here and got the gig."

"How long ago?"

Kyle held up his bottle and examined the label. "Eight months."

"Was Raven already there?" Faith looked past him. "Hey, pizza's here." The next few minutes were preoccupied with eating. A third of the way through her second slice, Faith swallowed and asked, "You ever try to hit that?"

"What?" Kyle's head jerked up as he almost dropped his pizza. "No, I mean, yeah, she's hot as shit, but… why would I try that?"

Faith shrugged. "I don't know, she's-" The Slayer offered air quotes with one hand "-'hot as shit', you're a guy, I'm assuming you've got a dick…"

Kyle squinted, then shook his head. "Never assume. Always confirm."

Faith laughed like a ringing bell. "Is that an offer or a challenge?" Kyle shrugged, concentrating on pizza. Faith blew out a breath and wiped her eyes. "So… back to Raven?"

"Uh, yeah, well…" Kyle shook his head. "Boy, that's… I like the job. I'm not gonna throw it away over something stupid, and that… would be very stupid. Raven's just not someone you mess around with."

"Whatta you mean?" Faith's head tipped to one side.

"'A man's got to know his limitations.'" Kyle took a bite.

"Dirty Harry… nice." Faith realized her bottle was empty. "Can I get another one?"

"Sure." Kyle went to the counter and came back with another icey bottle. "Anyway, I can't imagine making a pass at Raven and I really can't imagine her doing anything besides laughing."

Faith chewed while she thought. "So, you figure maybe she likes the ladies."

"No, no, not that, I mean, she could, but that's the point, I don't have a clue. It's like, the only things you see are what she lets you see, and that's almost nothing. Have you noticed her eyes?"

Faith nodded. "Yeah, I have."

"That's what I mean. I'd no more ask her on a date than I'd challenge Michael Jordan to a game of one-on-one." Kyle looked at the Slayer. "How old do you think she is?"

Faith was taken aback. "I don't know, I haven't thought about it, I…" Her voice trailed away and she looked confused.

"Exactly. If you told me she was two hundred years old, I don't think I'd blink." Kyle shrugged. "So, that's never even crossed my mind."

"Liar." Faith smirked. "That always crosses every man's mind."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "So young, so cynical."