Violets Are Blue

hadn’t opened their chutes yet. How long could they wait? How long?
    The only thing that kept this from being perfect, William was thinking, was the absence of pain. Pain made any experience better. Pain was the secret to pleasure, which so few understood. He and Michael did, though.
    Finally, they pulled the cords, and they couldn’t have waited a second more. The chutes opened, yanked hard at their bodies. The ground was rushing up at them.
    They landed and rolled, just in time to see the Twin Otter crash and burn, maybe a mile away in the desert.
    “No evidence,” William said smugly, his eyes glazed with pleasure and excitement. “That was such fun.”

Chapter 31

    THE CRIMSON Tide.
That’s what William called their murderous tour. He and Michael were on a roll now, and nothing could stop them until the mission was over. Nothing — not rain, or sleet, or the FBI.
    The Red Cross van drifted slowly along Fremont Street, the old original Strip in Las Vegas. It blended into the garish neon scene. Made them feel invisible. Like so many young males, William and Michael felt invulnerable. They would never be caught, never be stopped.
    The killers took everything in — the ridiculous spouting fountains in front of nearly every casino and hotel, a wedding chapel with “Love Me Tender” crooning tinnily from a loudspeaker, brightly painted tour buses, like the one ahead of the van from the United Union of Roofers and Waterproofers.
    “This is a true vampire’s city,” William proclaimed. “I can feel the energy. Even these pathetic worms on the street must feel alive when they’re here. It’s fabulous — so theatrical, glittery, overly dramatic. Don’t you just love it?”
    Michael clapped his large hands. “I’m in heaven. We can be choosy here.”
    “That’s our plan,” said William. “To be very choosy.”
    At midnight they drove out to the new Strip, Las Vegas Boulevard. They stopped at the Mirage, where the Daniel and Charles Magic Show was advertised on a large neon billboard that rose high over the busy street.
    “Is this such a good idea?” Michael asked, as they approached the box office inside the hotel. William ignored him and picked up two reserved tickets for the magic show. They were both dressed in black leather with black engineer boots. Nobody really cared what you wore in Vegas anyway. The show was about to begin as they took two seats near the front.
    Everything about the theater was spectacular and over-the-top. An enormous stage had been covered in spray-on black velvet. The backdrop was a thirty-foot-high metallic structure covered in rear-projection pictures that kept changing. Half a dozen techies worked the spotlights. The lighting conveyed spatial grandness if nothing else.
    William used the candle on their table to light a cigar. “It’s show time, my dear brother. Remember what you said — we can be choosy. Don’t forget that.”
    The magicians’ grand entrance onto the stage was a glittery nugget of eye candy. Daniel and Charles literally flew down from the rafters, at least a fifty- or sixty-foot drop.
    Then the magicians disappeared — and the spellbound audience erupted in applause.
    William and Michael cheered as well. The sheer speed with which the hydraulic mechanisms worked was impressive to William.
    Daniel and Charles appeared again. The magicians led two small elephants, a white stallion, and a glorious Bengal tiger onto the stage.
    “That’s me,” William whispered against Michael’s ear. “I
am
that beautiful cat. I am right at Daniel’s side. He should be careful.”
    The sound system played Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” in computerized surround sound. The noise was as gaudy as the visuals. A powerful exhaust system vented out the odor of animal urine and dung. A semipleasant vanilla-almond fragrance was pumped in.
    On the stage, meanwhile, the two magicians were arguing about something.
    William leaned toward a handsome young couple who had just been seated at the cocktail table to his left. The male and female were in their mid-twenties. He immediately recognized them from a hit TV show. He couldn’t decide which of the two actors was better looking. They were both so fly, so full of themselves. He knew that their names were Andrew Cotton and Dara Grey. Hell, he read
EW
and the tabloids in his spare moments.
    “Isn’t this amazing?” he asked them. “I love magic. It’s so kinky and
funny
. This is hilarious!”
    The