Billy the Kid & the Vampyres of Vegas (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #5.5) Read Online Free PDF

cucubuths. They were caught halfway between their human and wolf forms: a wolf’s head on a human body, animal claws on the end of muscular human arms. The biggest creature dangled a length of chain, while its two companions carried clubs.
    “You cannot take all of us,” the creature said.
    Scathach laughed, her face rippling through a change that revealed the beast beneath the flesh. “Oh yes, I can.”
    Suddenly, the three creatures were lit up by approaching red lights. The Thunderbird appeared, engine howling as it backed toward them at high speed. Brakes screamed and the car rocked, sliding sideways, slamming into the three cucubuths. Two were catapulted off into the night, while the biggest was shoved straight toward the Shadow. Her nunchaku whirred and the creature stopped as if it had run into a wall. It folded to the ground at Scathach’s feet.
    Billy launched himself out of the car and darted around to examine the passenger side. The door was buckled and there was a deep indentation on the front wing. He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and rubbed furiously at the longest of the scrapes.
    “I don’t think it’s going to rub out,” Scathach said gently. “That was a very brave thing you did. Great driving, too.”
    “Get in the car,” Billy snapped. “We’re going to Vegas. I’ve stripped inches of rubber off the tires, and do you know what a new door for one of these costs? Someone is going to pay for that.”

11.
    Elvis—fat, white-suited Elvis—was standing on the sidewalk across the road from the Las Vegas Wedding Chapel of the Bells. Marilyn Monroe, wearing a badly fitting white dress, was leaning against him. Both looked as if they had been out all night. Marilyn was wearing a Just Married sign around her neck.
    “That’s the third Elvis we’ve seen so far,” Billy said, grinning. “And always the jumpsuit-and-rhinestones Elvis.
    “Say, you don’t know if he was ever made immortal, do you?”
    Scathach shook her head. “I have no idea. No, that’s not true. I do know—because I sang with him once,” she said absently, “and I would have known if he was immortal. So no, he wasn’t.”
    Billy was so startled, he almost ran a red light at Sahara Avenue. “You sang with Elvis?” He turned in the seat to look at the red-haired girl. She had rested her elbow on the window and her chin was in her palm, long fingers touching the side of her face. She would never be called beautiful, Billy knew, and yet, in the kaleidoscopic wash of lights from the Las Vegas strip, she was striking.
    “I was a backup singer. It was a long time ago.”
    Billy shook his head. “I had plans to see him in Indianapolis in ’77, but something came up and I couldn’t go. I’ve got all his albums on vinyl, though.”
    “I’m more of a Dean Martin fan myself.”
    “Don’t tell me you sang with him, too,” Billy said breathlessly.
    “Twice,” Scathach said. “Once in this very town, back in 1964.”
    They were almost opposite the Sahara Hotel when Scathach abruptly straightened. She’d spotted a figure sitting on the bench inside a bus shelter. “Pull in here,” she said very quietly.
    The figure stood and Billy squinted. “It’s someone wearing a superhero cloak.” He watched the warrior slide a long, narrow dagger out of its sheath and hold it flat against her arm. “I’m guessing it’s not a superhero cloak.” And then he saw who was standing by the side of the road. “Try not to do any more damage to the car,” he muttered as he pulled into the Buses Only zone and stopped.
    The Morrigan stepped out of the shadows of the bus shelter and examined the indentations in the car door. “Those cucubuths are tougher than they look,” she said. As she spoke she opened her mouth in a smile, revealing sharp teeth.
    “You were watching us,” Scathach said.
    The Morrigan pointed a black-nailed finger upward. “I was around. It’s a shame about the damage. It should never have