Claudia, Seleste, and I headed back to the Sinclair mansion. Claudia went to help Devon with the guards and workers, while Seleste skipped off to the kitchen, saying something about helping the pixies with dinner. I had no idea if Seleste could actually cook or not, but I watched her go with a smile on my face. Then I walked through the mansion, stopping and looking into every single room I passed.
All of the bodies had been removed, and much of the destruction from the attack had already been cleaned up. The broken glass, splintered furniture, and cracked doors had all been removed, but other, more gruesome things remained behind that were harder to clean up. More than one pixie hovered in midair, a rag clutched in his or her hand, scrubbing at the bloodstains on the floors, walls, and even the ceilings. Those would take far longer to get rid of, and I knew that I would always see them in my nightmares.
I pitched in and helped where I could, mostly by carrying bags of debris and ruined pieces of furniture outside to load up onto trucks to be taken down into the city to be disposed of.
Mo was standing outside, supervising that part of the process. He was dressed in another Hawaiian shirt, this one a vivid blue covered with white ocean waves. He had a clipboard in his hands and was scribbling down notes about the items that littered the lawn around him—tables with a few scratches gouged into them, chairs that had been banged up, and several mirrors that were missing small pieces out of their frames. Unlike everything else in the mansion, most of these items were still in one piece.
Mo waved me over. “Hey, kid,” he rumbled, giving me a hug. “Glad to see that you’re up and around again. You gave us all a big scare last night.”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He gave me a wicked grin and brandished his clipboard at me. “Getting some new inventory for the Razzle Dazzle. A little paint, a little polish, and all this stuff will be as good as new again. I’ve already got some folks from Ashland, Bigtime, and Cypress Mountain coming to see it. What does it look like I’m doing?”
I laughed. “It looks like you’re collecting more junk to sell to the tourists at double the price of what it’s actually worth.”
“Would I do something like that?” he asked in an innocent voice.
I snorted. “Absolutely.”
He winked at me. Mo went back to his inventory, such as it was, and I went back into the mansion. I helped the guards, workers, and pixies, but seeing all the ruined furnishings being carted off depressed me more than I thought it would. Besides, everyone kept staring and whispering about me. I hated being the center of attention, but that’s exactly what I was right now and probably would be for some time to come.
I worked hard all day long and didn’t go back up to my room until after eight that night. A small hammer and even smaller nails littered the ground outside Oscar’s trailer, along with several honeybeer cans. Repairing his trailer must have worn out the pixie because he was leaning back in a chair on his front porch, his cowboy boots up on the railing and his black cowboy hat pulled down low on his head. He clutched a honeybeer can in his lap, and soft, steady snores rumbled out of his chest. Tiny was also taking a nap in his corral, upside down on his shell like usual. I didn’t want to disturb them, so I slipped out of the patio doors, took hold of the drainpipe, and climbed up to the terrace.
Devon wasn’t here yet; he was still down in the main part of the mansion, helping Claudia deal with everyone and everything that needed to be done to repair the structure. I was grateful for the peace and quiet, especially after all the stares and whispers that had followed me around all day long.
I put my arms down on the iron railing and stared out over the Midway. The view looked the same as always, but the neon lights somehow seemed more colorful and cheerful than ever before. Or maybe that was because I knew that the danger had passed.
For now, anyway.
Victor might be dead, but Nikolai Volkov was still out there, and no doubt he would start plotting to take over the void that the Draconis had left behind. But that was a problem for another day. And there would still be fights and skirmishes between all the Families, including the Sinclairs, Itos, and Salazars, as everyone tried to figure out how things would work in a town where Victor Draconi wasn’t king anymore. But we would work it out. I knew we would.
Behind me, a door creaked open and footsteps sounded. I breathed in and the sharp, crisp scent of pine—Devon’s scent—wafted over to me. In addition to acquiring Victor’s lightning power, I also seemed to have enhanced senses now. All day long, I’d noticed that I could smell, hear, and even see better than I had before. I wondered just how much of Victor’s magic—and how many Talents—I might possess now.
The thought of where they had come from still made me sick, but the magic didn’t seem to be burning out of my body. I supposed I would just have to live with it like I did everything else. The important thing was not to be like Victor—and not to use this new power to hurt people the way he had.
Devon walked over, leaned his arms down on the railing as well, and stared out at the view with me.