Bite Marks

“Jasmine?” Vayl murmured from the seat next to me, balancing his mug o’ packaged vamp-juice out in front of him to prevent spillage. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I’ll be fine.” I glanced at him, allowing myself a second to appreciate his fedora. No man of this age can pull off the look the way an original can. Under the shadow of its brim his chemically darkened skin resisted the few waning rays of sun the Clubman’s tinted windows allowed in. I guess I could give Cole some credit for at least trying to protect Vayl that far. But geez!

For the third time this trip I mentally replayed the scene in the funeral home’s plain, gray-walled garage.

We’d stepped out of the hearse in the first of four bays, all of which led to a closed black door the size of a home-theater screen. I’d nodded appreciatively at the Jeep Patriot parked next to us. Painted a dark orange, it also glowed with flecks of gold and red to my extra-sensitized eyes.

“Now, that is a machine,” I’d said, licking my lips to keep the drool from spilling over.

“Isn’t she a beaut?” said Ruvin, running his hand along the side panel like it was a woman’s hip.

“Sometimes I dream we’re walking on the beach together, just her and me. And she’s kinda wobbling

’cause she’s on her back tires. Then she looks at me. And squeezes my hand. And says, ‘Ruvin, only amateurs use the automatic wash.’ And I promise never to wipe her with an old rag.” We stared. Even me, and I’ve been known to dream about my Corvette from time to time. Ruvin pointed to a steel rod welded across the front of the grille. “Look here! Can you guess what this is?” I said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you were planning on busting through some fairly high snowdrifts.”

“It’s a bull bar,” Ruvin told me. “Protects my ute in case I hit a roo.”

“Roo? As in the kanga kind?” asked Cole.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Ruvin, here, says we don’t have to worry while we’re driving the Jeep because—”

“Oh no.” Cole shook his head while Ruvin clutched at his heart, like maybe I’d just suggested we borrow his kids for a couple of days. “Ruvin’s not renting us his wheels. Our ride is parked in the third bay.”

“Oh. Okay.” Mentally kissing the Jeep goodbye, I grabbed my trunk and weapons bag from the hearse’s storage compartment and skirted the Jeep. Where I stood gaping until Bergman bumped into me.

“Is he serious?” Bergman whispered.

“Where are we supposed to put all the extra equipment?” Cassandra asked.

Since Wirdilling was a village of six hundred, we couldn’t just melt into the crowd. Especially when we were renting one of the local’s houses. So we’d decided to use a cover that always got us eager cooperation. It also required a few more bags.

“Strap them to the top,” said Cole. He opened the trunk (no wonder they call it a boot here, it’s about the size of my foot!) and pulled out some tie-downs. “See? We’re prepared.” I didn’t realize I’d dropped my stuff and raised my hands to strangle him until Vayl pulled me aside.

“Perhaps not in front of our driver?” he suggested.

I turned to Ruvin, who’d helped Vayl bring over the last of the luggage. “So what do you think of all this?” I asked him brightly. My smile was faked, but not my interest. I couldn’t wait to hear what kind of bullshit story Cole had fed him.

The little man grinned up at me, the gap between his front teeth so wide I could see what he’d eaten for lunch through it. “Aw, your boy Thor is brilliant, that’s all!” he said, his accent almost as thick as his ear hair. “How else’re you gonna get Gerard Butler into the country without tipping off the crazies, eh, mate?” He reached out and shook Vayl’s hand. “Loved you in 300. What a performance! You need anything at all, I’m your bloke. Don’t just drive the dead around all day, ya know. I’ve got my hand in lotsa kettles. Here, lemme give you my card.”

While Cassandra and I traded Vayl-looks-nothing-like- Gerard eye rolls, Ruvin and my boss were playing tug-of-war with the dog-eared ID. “You can reach my wife, Tabitha, at the same number,” Ruvin was saying as he banged his blunt finger against it. “You should call her when you’re hiring, mate. She’s a genius with hair and makeup. Got her own shop in back of our house. You wouldn’t believe what she can do with the old cows who come in there!”

Having been briefed on Ruvin’s connections to our target, Vayl dropped his arm to the man’s shoulder.

“We will put her name at the top of the list. In the meantime, we have a project with which you could be very helpful.” He started to talk. But with me opening the hood, slamming it, and doing the same to all the doors as my rage began to build, he decided the deal might be made more smoothly if they moved to the other side of the hearse.

“Hey, Lucille!” called Cole. “I think your dog needs to take a leak!” Since I’d failed to force any of the doors to fall off, I rounded the front of the car and snatched the keys from his hand on my way to the driver’s seat.

“What?” he asked, his eyes showing more white than usual when he caught my expression. He and Jack exchanged wary glances.

I said, “I’m driving. And I suggest you fasten your seat belt. Otherwise I’ll be tempted to roll this puppy just for the joy of seeing your head hit the ceiling.”

“Lucille—”

Cassandra pulled Bergman away from his attempt to stuff one last trunk into the back of the Clubman, and strode forward to yank Jack’s leash from Cole’s hand. “Miles and I will take him outside,” she said, giving us both her don’t-kill-each-other look.

Cole came over to stand beside me. “Damn, woman, what’s gotten your panties in a bunch?” I waited until they’d cleared the garage. Then I lowered my voice anyway. Nobody, not even my boss, needed to hear what I was about to say. “You fucked with Vayl, you fucked with me, okay, we get it.

You’re pissed that we’re a couple. This is your hilarious way of getting us back. Mission accomplished.

But you know what? Nothing’s changed. We’re still together and you’ve taken it so far that now you just look like an ass. I tried to be gentle with you, because you’re one of the greatest guys I’ve ever met. But I swear, if you screw with me again I will take you down. Permanently.” I stopped. Ground my teeth together. Because behind my words I could hear another voice. Feeding me lines. Goddammit, this is worse than I thought!

Cole shoved his hands in his pockets, his mouth twisted so oddly that it took me a second to realize he was frowning. “You and Vayl ended up with each other and didn’t even have the decency to buy me a stupid T-shirt. So I figured you’d at least see the humor—” He stopped. Shot his eyes to mine.

“What?”

He grabbed me by both shoulders. “Who’s in there with you?” Aargh! “I have no idea what you’re—”

Cole’s eyes hardened, the flint in them so unexpected I forgot what I meant to say. “Don’t try to con me, Lucille . You may be the DeWALT of Sensitives, but I can smell other just like anybody else who’s died once already. And there’s two scents coming from you when I should only be getting that adrenaline punch that lifts me up on my toes every time I get a whiff of you.” Kill him! Now! Before he ruins everything! I’d actually slid my hand into my right pocket, wrapped it around the hilt of the knife my seamstress had cleverly hidden along the length of my thigh, before I realized what I was considering. I shoved my left hand into the opposite pocket and squeezed my fingers around the ring I carried there. It had always brought me comfort before. Now I wanted more.

Matt, talk to me. Tell me what to do!

But my fiancé’s voice had never joined the chorus in my head. When he’d died, he’d gone silent for good.

The other voice knew exactly what to say. Tell him to back off! Your business is none of his! We’re doing fine all on our own. It felt like a fog, settling over my synapses, numbing them into immobility while it ate away at my independence.

I grabbed Cole’s wrist. The contact helped me think a little more clearly. I forced the words past a sudden blockage in my throat. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been possessed. I don’t know how it happened.

Maybe one of those Scidairan bitches hexed me during that big battle before we killed Samos last week.

Don’t tell Vayl.”

“You can’t seriously think you’re going to hide this from him?” I nodded, gritting my teeth at the thought of how mad he’d be if he ever found out. I said, “He wants a strong woman. Not some wimp who can’t even keep her own mind clear.” Do I really believe that? Vayl could be such a help in this—pain speared through the back of my right eyeball. Just as quickly it was gone, along with my train of thought.

Cole glanced over his shoulder to make sure Vayl and Ruvin were still talking. They’d opened the passenger door of his Jeep, and Ruvin was sitting in the seat, showing off the interior while they chatted.

Cole murmured, “I don’t think you have any idea what he wants from a woman or why he picked you.

You’re just making stuff up as you go instead of checking the source.”

“I don’t want to lose him!”

“And you think this is a deal breaker?”

My eye began to throb again. I rubbed at it. “Yes.” The ache vanished.

He shook his head and sighed. “How are you going to keep him from figuring it out? I mean, it helped that I’m a Sensitive. But what tipped me off to start with was the fact that you were acting weird.”

“Sex.”

“Seriously?”

I shrugged. “He can’t suspect much if every time we’re alone instead of talking I have my way with him.” Cole shook his head. “You don’t think it’ll work?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes. “Vayl might be a vampire, but he’s also a guy. Who’s about to be deliriously happy.

Good God, if you work this right, he won’t even be mad if he finds out because of the way you decided to hide it from him.”

I nodded. And reached around to scratch my back.

It itched even more after I’d driven a glorified golf cart through the bewildering maze of roundabouts that makes Canberra almost as famous as its massive termite mounds (er, I mean public buildings) full of politicians. By the time we left the city’s shrubbery-choked streets and hit the hills, I was rubbing my back against the seat like a bear scratching against her favorite tree. And in Australia, that had to be eucalyptus.

In the distance they joined other species in covering the mountains like lush green hair. Up close, they towered among the rocks, their lower branches practically nonexistent. Which didn’t seem to be a problem for the koalas. Or the parrots. Still, what dominated the landscape was the closely grazed succession of hills. You could play golf on those suckers if you didn’t mind going vertical.

The Wheezer did.

“Dammit, Cole, couldn’t you have at least rented something with an engine?” I barked. “If I lifted the hood on this sucker I’ll bet I’d see the skeleton of Tigger, because this car hasn’t had any bounce since Reagan was president.”

Vayl stared at his mug, decided the contents were finally warm enough, and took a sip. He said,

“Perhaps we should move on to a subject that does not make any of us feel the need to kill our sniper.” Bergman snorted. “I guess that means you don’t want to discuss your spectacular airport entrance?”

“Why do you do that?” Cassandra demanded. “The subject was closed. Everybody was ready to let it drop. And then you stirred it up again. You’re like a drama junkie, you know that?” Jack stuck his nose in her chin, as if agreeing. Continuing with his I’m-a-Pomeranian fantasy, my dog had chosen, not floorboards, but laps as his preferred method of travel. He lay across all three of them, like a raja who must be kept dirt free in case of spontaneous parades.

Bergman said, “I’m no—” but he couldn’t see Cassandra over Cole’s mop of hair. His struggle to meet her eyes forced a complete backseat resettlement, not easy when you’re sharing a 140-pound load, but everybody finally found new locations for their butts and elbows. After which he said, “I just like closure, that’s all.”

She said, “Vayl didn’t strangle Cole back at the airport. The end.” But it wasn’t. Vayl sent a dark look over his shoulder. “Believe me, I was exercising phenomenal restraint.”

Through the rearview mirror I could see Cole’s fingers, which had been scratching Jack’s back, freeze.

“Aw, come on, Vayl. How many vamps have slept inside a golf coffin? Your buddies will be so impressed.”

Noting that Vayl’s knees were nearly at the level of his shoulders, I said, “Not if he can’t stand upright anymore after riding in your rental from Dollhouse Accessories, Inc. Did you forget that we might need to jump out of this vehicle and run at some point? The way this muther rides, we’re all going to have to do twenty minutes of yoga before we can even think of walking again!” Astral chose that moment to stand. Since she’d settled on the ledge below the rear window, my view was now completely obscured by stretching kitty, whose accompanying mechanical clicks caught everyone’s attention.

“She’s just recalibrating,” Bergman explained. “She does it every hour or so to make sure her internal compass is still accurate.”

“Ow!” Cole grabbed the back of his head. “She kicked me! What are her legs made of, tire irons?” When no one replied he met my eyes in the mirror.

“Okay,” he admitted. “It may be a little tighter in here than I’d anticipated. But think of it as a team-building experience. This way nobody has to fall off a wall and hope the rest of us catch him.” Vayl turned in his seat. “I believe Cassandra was right after all. Perhaps we should talk about the assignment before visions of you thudding to the ground inspire me to make a reservation with Adventures R Us.”

Bergman reached up, adjusted his ball cap, and dropped his hands back to his lap, which was when I knew something was up with it. Would he ever reveal its true purpose to us, or was this some kind of test run we weren’t supposed to acknowledge?

I tried to pick up any oddities in its design while Cole said, “Pete said he was going to brief us. How’s that going to work?”

Bergman looked over his shoulder. “Astral? Please play Pete’s briefing.” Astral yawned and a hologram of my supervisor unfolded on the hood of the Wheezer, startling me so much I pulled my foot off the accelerator. He sat behind his old metal desk, his brown suit nearly hidden behind three teetering piles of files.

Flicking his hand against a black spot-microphone on his lapel he said, “Is it on?” Unintelligible reply from the cameraman. “Jaz, I know you’re mad at me for cutting your vacation three weeks short.” I snorted. Yeah, bub, so short I didn’t even have time to make arrangements for my dog.

He ran his hand across his last couple of hairs. Had they turned from blond to white in the past week? I couldn’t tell. Uncanny, though, the way he turned his head as if he knew I was sitting behind the wheel.

As I eased into the gas he said, “I wanted to make it up to you. So I returned your father’s investment in your last mission. He said the senators stiffed him.” Which could only mean he’d withheld the information they’d asked him to gather.

Vayl and I traded glances. He said, “I told you Albert was honorable.” Wow. My dad taking the high road? Even if it only pertained to buttoning his lip regarding the inner functionings of our team? And Pete, spending actual money to make us even? Maybe I could count on those two after all.

Pete picked up a sheaf of papers, banged them against the desk, and set them back down. He said, “As you know, the cult I’ve sent you after believes their god, Ufran, lives on one of the rings of Saturn. And they’re furious that NASA is, to quote their Web page, ‘invading the sanctity of his celestial home by peeping through his curtains.’”

“Wait,” said Cole. “There are curtains hanging from Saturn’s rings?”

“It’s a metaphor,” I said.

Pete, just a recording who didn’t expect commentary from the crowd, had moved on. “—Ufranites had convinced Bob Green, a software engineer for Odeam Security, to carry their larvae into the Canberra Deep Space Complex, at which time they were supposed to wreak havoc on the Complex’s vital systems. But while Green and his team were waiting for their plane yesterday, the larvae hatched prematurely.”

Big silence as we all imagined that scene. Human carriers were a new phenomenon. Traditionally gnomes deposited their larvae in their castoffs. Those who were born tailless, or whose noses never turned blue, were either made to incubate the larvae, or worse, act as midwives during the “birth.” But they hadn’t yet formed a coalition, or called the cops, so word hadn’t gotten around yet that Bob Green’s experience was typical. Certain death, lying twitching on the concourse carpet while slimy red worms burst through your blood vessels and out of your skin, leaving you bleeding to death like an Ebola victim.

Bergman cleared his throat. “But we’re still after the Odeam team. Which means what? That they had a backup carrier ready, just in case?”

Cole said, “They’d have to, because hatchings are notoriously unpredictable. Which you’d know if you didn’t spend all day in the lab.”

“I don’t… okay, I do spend a lot of time inside. But look at the results!” He jerked a thumb toward Astral, who currently looked like she’d swallowed a high-quality flashlight.

“Pay attention,” snapped Vayl, slanting his chin toward Pete, who’d paused to take a swig from his coffee cup. Aww. It was one I’d brought back for him from a mission to Nevada. It said killer cuppa joe on the side and had a picture of a cowboy shooting his six-guns at a snarling monster whose head was shaped like a gigantic coffee bean.

Pete said, “If the Ufranites just wanted to foul up the Complex’s software, they could use the Odeam man himself. But our analysts say that isn’t enough for them. They want to sever the connections between the satellite dishes and their computer controllers so absolutely that repair costs will force NASA to divert funds from all of their other projects, causing them to fail too. This would cause billions of dollars of damage that the American people won’t want to pay to repair. In which case, NASA will be forced to close down the complex.”

“What about the communication stations in California and Madrid?” asked Bergman.

As if he could read Bergman’s mind, Pete said, “We’ve learned that NASA’s other two complexes have been targeted as well. I’ve sent teams to each site. But yours is particularly important, because somewhere in the area the shaman who plotted this entire fiasco is pulling the strings. The name of his warren is N’Paltick. Find it, figure out how to discredit him, and we believe the Ufranites will abandon this plan for good.”

“Discredit? Or destroy?” asked Bergman dryly.

Vayl and I traded glances. “We are not in the business of creating martyrs,” he said. “If Jasmine and I find an opportunity to reveal this shaman’s true colors to his followers, we will take it.” Pete seemed to look at me again. Kinda freaky. Like the Jesus picture in Granny May’s pastor’s home.

We’d only gone once, to drop off a loaf of banana bread when his wife had died. Those eyes had followed me everywhere. And they hadn’t been happy with me. Pete, at least, seemed halfway content.

“The Oversight Committee has completely backed off, Jaz. Relax. Do your usual excellent job. You have nothing to worry about from here.” He cleared his throat. “And as long as I’m around, you never will.” His image blinked out. I blinked a couple of times too. Wow. Did he have any idea how long I’d been hoping to hear those words?

I felt a smile lift my lips as I rounded another curve. I gave the Wheezer more gas, basking in job-security glow, enjoying the fact that I got to drive on the left side of the road again. You know what would make this moment perfect? If the Clubman was a Maserati. And Vayl and I were alone on his island, rushing toward one of our who-can-get-naked-fastest evenings in his cool, shadowy bedroom, which always smelled like pine and fresh oranges.

Cole snapped me out of my daydream by asking, “Is there any way to kill the larvae while they’re still in the carrier? You know, some kind of shot or something?”

I felt the corners of my mouth drop. What kind of friend pulls a chimp move like that and throws poop all over your fantasies? One who sucks almost as bad as your life , said that nasty new voice. I sawed at my shoulder as I said, “Doctors haven’t found a way to dump the larvae from the bloodstream once they’re ingested.”

“Ugh! You mean the computer guy ate them?” asked Cassandra. She looked down at Jack. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” He nodded, his expression assuring her his tastes definitely ran to gnome slugs.

Vayl said, “More likely he drank them. The eggs are tiny after all. It is only after they reach the bloodstream that they experience their first metamorphosis.” Bergman said, “So there’s no way we could save these guys?” I caught his drift. Anybody who’d made the Odeam team had to be popping the lid off the IQ container. So he kinda connected.

Vayl took off his sunglasses, his icy blue eyes pinning Bergman in place. “Bob Green was carrying the seeds of a space complex’s destruction. He died because he cared more about buying an in-ground pool than he did about his country. After a day’s delay to regroup, the team is back on track, due to arrive in Wirdilling later this evening. We do not know if Green’s replacement will be carrying the larvae, or if an original team member had already agreed to act as backup. Our sources are only certain that another has taken his place, and NASA is deeply worried that he will succeed where his predecessor failed.” Cole spoke up. “Hopefully the bug I planted on Ruvin will clear up the situation for us right away.

Maybe we’ll be able to take this guy out tonight and spend the next couple of days exploring the bush.”

“Why would we want to do that?” asked Bergman.

Cole blew a bubble, and for a second the scent of cinnamon filled the car. As soon as it popped and he’d licked up the mess he said, “Besides my professional goals, I have a couple of private ones, my man. One of those is to pet a kangaroo before I leave Australia. I understand there’s lots of Eastern Grays around this area. What do you say? Are you in?”

Bergman looked at him like he’d just made the worst financial investment of his life. “Kangaroos are wild animals. I’ve heard they claw like girl fighters and kick like jackhammers. You’re going to get your skull crushed.”

Cole held up a finger. “Or I’m going to pet a kangaroo. How cool would that be?” Deciding not to waste any more time on the crazy man, Bergman turned back to Vayl. “What happens if we can’t stop the carrier?”

Vayl pulled in a breath. “America faces catastrophe, and not just the sort Pete mentioned. Because NASA administrators fear if their communications facilities are crippled, their program could be halted just when they have begun to receive signals from deep space.” Though I’d heard this before, I still couldn’t quite believe it. Pete had left it up to Vayl whether or not to share this morsel, so the kids in the back were hearing it for the first time. They received the news with varying reactions.

Cassandra nodded, as if unsurprised by the fact that somebody way the hell out there might want to give us a call.

Cole slammed his hand against the roof of the car. “I knew it! I’ll bet they have gigantic pear-shaped heads and goggle eyes too!”

Bergman cocked his head sideways in the show-me-proof gesture that had started many of our college debates. He said, “Assuming I believe that last part, which could be all kinds of noise having nothing to do with alien language, I still don’t quite buy the gnomes wanting to destroy NASA. That seems like a lot of work to protect Ufran’s privacy.”

“Maybe they’ve heard about the alien contact,” said Cole, his eyes still shining at the idea. “Maybe they’re so freaked they’re trying to shut it down before the rest of the world finds out.” Cassandra shook her head. “No matter why they’ve put this plan in motion, you have to agree they’re a proactive bunch.”

I nodded. “Luckily, so are we.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY

Idon’t know what it is about college kids. Maybe tuition also buys them the knowhow to squeeze large numbers of people into small spaces such as telephone booths and imported vehicles. Whatever the case, we all managed to find a tiny bit of butt room inside the Hyundai. Dachelle drove, while Gabbie shared the front with Cole and Jack, both of whom spent most of the ride hanging out the window, which provided some relief to their fellow sardines. That left Kyphas, Rory, Lance, and me to rub hips, thighs, and damn near everything else in our effort to catch up to the escaping Ufranites. Among us, only Astral seemed comfortable, lying in the back window like an Egyptian statue. Luckily she’d obeyed my demand to stay silent. So far.

Since Kyphas kept adjusting her position on Rory’s knees without raising even a moan, I thought he’d passed out until he reared his head back, snorted, centered his eyes on me, and asked, “So what’re you doing at Wirdilling?”

“We work for a movie company called Shoot-Yeah Productions. Our boss sent us out to scout locations for some night scenes, but we have to get back to town quick because he’s lined up a bunch of auditions that we’re supposed to tape.”

“At 3:30 in the morning?” asked Dachelle.

“We’re still working on American time,” Cole drawled.

I rolled my eyes. If everyone but Dachelle hadn’t been so wasted they’d never have swallowed such a line of crap. But the designated driver had her hands so full trying to make her friend behave she had no room left in her bullshit net for our load.

She yelled, “Gabbie! Quit rubbing Thor’s leg! I’m sure he doesn’t want a quickie with a drunken Biology major.”

“Who would?” asked Rory. Lance giggled.

“You blokes are flaming jerks!” Gabbie declared.

Mostly to prevent myself from punching the defenseless bastards I said, “Dachelle, I’ll give you and your friends each fifty bucks if you get us to Wirdilling in five minutes.”

“Hang on, mates!” Dachelle called. “I’ve had my eye on a pair of shoes at Mathers for the past three weeks and now I’ve finally got the chance to snatch ’em!” She floored it, sending Lance and Cole sliding into the window frames. Cole caught himself but Lance banged his head, which turned out to be the last straw. He passed out with his forehead against the window, which meant every time Dachelle took a sharp curve we could hear his skull bang against the side of the car.

Twelve minutes later we crawled out of the Hyundai and waved goodbye to Dachelle and friends. Lance kept rubbing his head and grimacing, but the rest grinned happily as they sped away since I’d decided to pay them for getting us there in one piece. Even though the timing sucked, I was sure nobody could’ve pulled us in faster.

While Jack strained to reach a fire hydrant at the street corner and Astral rolled around on the asphalt like a kitten, Cole, Kyphas, and I stood in the middle of Wirdilling Drive, staring at the dusty storefronts and empty alleyways, trying to figure out where the flying nose could’ve landed.

“Maybe he couldn’t reverse the sky car,” said Kyphas. “Maybe it stopped near the Space Complex and right now they’re all—”

“They’re here,” I said flatly.

“How can you be sure?” she asked. “What if it was never here to start with? What if they stored it miles away in some deserted canyon? That’s what I would do.”

“It’s here.” I sounded a lot more confident than I felt. Because if Vayl had been close, I should’ve been able to sense him. I couldn’t. But he’d told us to meet him here, so this was where we were going to be.

“Why isn’t Vayl talking to us?” asked Cole.

Because he’s miles and miles away? “Because they’ll overhear him if he says anything. Which reminds me. Bergman? We’re standing in front of Crindertab’s. It’s about to get pretty hot downtown. Now that you’re done with all the lab work, we could use your help here.”

“Oh. Sure. I’ll be right there.” He coughed to hide how his last word tried to climb right out of his throat.

I said, “Let’s find that sky car.”

“How?” asked Kyphas. “The cables are practically invisible.”

“So were their doors at first, but now we’ve discovered three of them.” I didn’t tell her my sudden surge of confidence was probably based on the rush I still felt that began at the clotting bite on my lip and ended at my tingling toes.

“Are you sure the drop is even in town?” asked Bergman, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Yeah, I think it’s here,” I said. “They’d want easy access to it, and the car was coming from this direction. I know our analysts never picked up on it, but maybe the Ufranites only use it at night. Much less chance of being seen at three a.m. Especially if your shaman has thrown a camo spell on it.” Cassandra spoke up. “Jasmine, can you hear me?”

I crouched down and touched the road like she was standing right underneath me. “Is everything okay?

You sound [tearful] different.”

“I’m fine. You can’t even imagine… Jasmine, the most wonderful thing has happened! I heard—no, let me tell you to your face. It’ll be soon because I’m nearly done here. Remember I said we were sneaking into the shaman’s quarters? You’ll never guess what I found there.”

“Tell me.”

“Tabitha’s dress.”

“Ruvin’s Tabitha?”

“She’s the shaman.”

I wanted to ask Cassandra if she was sure, but she was a freaking Seer. Of course she knew! Now Ruvin’s sacrifice to the larvae made perfect sense. Wives killed off their husbands, and vice versa, all the time. But why? Did Tabitha-Shaman really believe Ufran needed his privacy? Or did she have ulterior motives even her people, from whom she’d hidden her real identity, didn’t understand?

“That’s… you’ve gone above and beyond,” I told her. “Now do something even more important and get yourself out safe. If anything happened to you, Dave would never forgive me. And I kinda like it that he’s finally speaking to me again.”

“In that case I’ll be seeing you very soon,” said Cassandra. I could hear the smile in her voice. “In the meantime, why don’t you ask Astral about the sky-car dilemma? Or rather, her Enkyklios ?” I turned to the cat, who was currently dragging her hindquarters through the dirt between the sidewalk and the road and singing, “Oh, get down, turn around, go to town, boot scootin’ boogie.”

“Astral, you whacked robot, you are not Brooks or Dunn! Get over here!”

“What happened to her?” asked our psychic.

“You know what? I’m just gonna let you touch her and See the whole moment in surround Sight. You bringing reinforcements?”

“As many as I can manage.” Which would probably be, what, seven?

“Cool, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Be safe.”

“Probably safer than you.”

She chuckled as Astral trotted to my side and said, “Hello!”

“What do you know about the Ufranites’ sky cars?” I asked her.

After the usual I’m-searching ear wobble, a deeper voice came from her moving mouth, one more suited to a broad-shouldered, potbellied history professor. “The vehicles in question were built during the early twentieth century and improved upon after the devastating nose-to-nose crash of 1945. Though somewhat ponderous and slow-moving, they are built to move twelve to fifteen gnomes from one to another of ten points in the ACT.”

“Yadda, yadda, yadda,” I griped. “Where’s the station?”

“The main access point is inside the old water tower,” Astral said, like I should’ve figured that out hours ago.

Holy crap! That’s right beside the damn post office!

“Bergman, you know where that is?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Meet us there.”

“Hey! You’ll never guess who I just saw dancing around in the playground of the old primary school.”

“Miles, this is no time for—”

“Tabitha!”

I paused for a beat to trade a significant look with Cole and make sure Jack was still trotting at the end of his leash. “Bring her.”

Small yelp. “Who, me?”

“Time to prove yourself. If you want to be my future partner, she’d better be dangling off the end of your fist the next time I see you.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

In Australia, land of fire and drought, sharks and surfers, water is damn near worshipped. If nobody’s built a shrine anywhere they probably should, because I’m pretty sure people would come and kneel, take a drink and then, like humans all over the globe, make a wish and throw coins in to seal the deal. If somebody did decide to erect a monument, maybe it would resemble the old wooden tower that had once provided sustenance to Wirdilling. Though a new metal one had been erected within sight of the original, it seemed almost sacrilegious that true Aussies had let the old girl go to waste. Which might’ve been why the gnomes had latched on to her.

Outside she looked like your typical nineteenth-century above- ground town well. Except the section created to hold the juice was square, built on a platform that jutted out slightly farther than the container to give maintenance workers room to walk the perimeter. Nine sturdy posts held the tower a good thirty feet aboveground, their crosspieces stained an even darker brown than the rest of the structure, as if to emphasize the fact that they provided stability and helped ensure that the pressure stayed nice and high.

We knew the place hid something marvelous simply from the fact that it was humming like a power station when we approached it.

“What now?” asked Cole.

I said, “Kyphas and I investigate. You get into position and wait.”

“For what?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll know when it happens.” I looked down at Jack. Who, while multitalented in doggy terms, hadn’t yet mastered pole climbing. I handed the leash to Cole. “You guys grab some high ground.”

Cole nodded quickly and, grinning down at my dog, said, “Come on, dude. Let’s hit the roofs. You can be my reloader.”

“Be careful, Cole,” said Kyphas.

His smile went crooked as he met her gaze, which was so damn sincere I nearly bought it. I pulled a Vayl, standing stock still, internalizing the eye rolling and grimacing that wanted to crease my face as he replied, “No need to worry about me, beautiful. I was born under a lucky star.” Oh, gag, did he really say that?

“Besides,” he added, without missing a beat, “I’ve got angels watching over me. Right, Jaz?” His eyes swept to mine, their sparkle so bright they could’ve lit fireworks.

“Close enough,” I said, coughing to hide the laughter as Kyphas put a hand to her stomach and made an I-may-vomit face.

He wheeled around, taking Jack for a quick trot down the block and around the corner, where he was sure to find a handy fire escape. Kyphas watched him all the way.

When she muttered something under her breath I asked, “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Astral spoke up. “Kyphas just said, ‘That one, he is so likeable !’ Her tone is somewhat irritated, which does not compute with the wording.”

“Shut up, cat!” Kyphas snapped.

“I am not programmed for your orders.”

I said, “Have you noticed what a great ass he’s got too?” Cole, listening in on the party line, chuckled with delight.

“Are you joking? Every time he turns around my fingers begin to ache!” I stepped in front of her, nose to nose, to make sure we had pure communication. But I didn’t have to say a word.

She held up her hands. “I know, I know. Nothing in heaven or hell will stand between you and my slow, screaming death if I harm any one of your babes.” She flipped back her shining hair. “Already you bore me. So are we climbing this tower or—”

“Yeah. You first.”

Flash of suspicion. But she went up, stiff in the legs and back, like she half expected me to stab her on the way up. As if I’d reduce my meager forces at such a key point. But I still enjoyed making her uneasy.

I looked down at the kittybot. “This is where you take a break, Astral. Hang out here until Bergman shows up and then do what he says until I need you again, okay?”

“Hello!”

“You are so fried.”

I followed Kyphas up to the platform. Though we searched like a couple of treasure hunters, we discovered no Ufranite doors. Which meant we’d have to be patient. Surely Vayl would find a way to contact us soon.

I motioned for Kyphas to post herself at the south end of the tower while I took the opposite.

“I’m in position,” Cole whispered. “Your dog’s peeing on the roof vent. I think that means you own Crindertab’s now.”

I nodded to let him know I’d heard. Wondered how Bergman was doing and decided no news was good news.

So hard to sit and wait. I touched Cirilai, wishing it would signal me, frustrated that it and my vamp-sense were my only connections to Vayl.

Or are they? The only reason I didn’t ignore Teen Me, who was straightening her hair in the empty hope that she could make it look like Jennifer Aniston’s, was that too many other people already had.

What do you mean? I asked her.

He’s a vampire, she told me, like I was some kind of dufus for having to have the obvious pointed out to me.

I nearly said, So? But I took a second to think beforehand. The first time he’d taken my blood he’d formed a bond with me that had enabled him to sense my strongest emotions. After the second time, my Spirit Eye had opened wide enough for me to track the Vampere. And now? What had happened to us with this exchange, Eldhayr blood for Vampere power?

No clue, I thought as I crouched against the railing. But that took too much energy, so I hit my butt.

Because I was suddenly so tired. The after-bite crash had come. If I’d had to raise Grief in that moment I’d have said, “To hell with it,” and hoped for an asteroid impact to do my work for me.

We waited for an eternity. Stars came to life and died in the time I sat there trying to decide if I was already too old for this gig. I began to think I could sense the earth revolving while I remained in one place, like a chess piece that could only be moved by the hand of the universe. Then I realized I was dizzy.

Vayl, where are you? Reach me, dammit!

I closed my eyes, but that only made the vertigo worse. Instead I focused on the fat-headed nails that held the walls of the water tower together. They blurred into a rust-colored mass, like the bricks on a fog-shrouded building. And then I realized I was standing. Not in Wirdilling, Australia, at nearly four in the morning. But in London under a full moon, long before garbage trucks and sewage plants, if the stench gave any clue.

I began to walk, each step bringing my situation more sharply into focus. I had never been so strong. I felt like I could single-handedly tear the bridge I currently strolled upon from its very moorings. And part of me wanted to. It yammered inside of me like a mad dog straining at the end of its chain. Because my boys would never draw breath again.

Oh, fuck.

I glanced into the water. Saw a tall, broad-shouldered man whose shoulder-length curls were held secure by a band at the back of his neck. He wore a long black coat buttoned over a red waistcoat and black breeches. His white stockings were stained with mud, his black buckled shoes needed to be resoled. But I could never mistake those high cheekbones, slanted brows, and fierce, kaleidoscope eyes.

I’m Vayl. Or he’s me. How—?

I stopped, raised my nose to the foul night air and scented something that did not belong, even here on these careless streets. Werewolf!

I ran, still new enough to the power that I exulted in the speed I could gain and maintain. Within moments I had reached the abandoned building where the wolf hunted. Pulling my dagger from the sheath at my waist, I crept after it, the freezing river that now fed each of my humors rising quickly to a flood. It took all of my will not to release it upon the city itself, like a rain of razor-sharp ice. But I had freed the deluge once before. Some actions should never be repeated.

I found it upstairs. A shiver ran up my spine at the sound of its claws raking across the grime-laden floor as it battered its shoulder against the bedroom door. Its final blow caused a rupture that made the wood crack like the shots that had taken my sons. I jerked as if hit, my mind tearing as it tried to evade memories too fresh to bury. But I could never turn from their faces, their dark lashes brushing their cheeks as if they had simply stopped beside the road to take a nap before coming home to supper.

A scream jerked me from my nightmare and pulled me into hers. I leaped through the doorway to find the wolf crouching, grinning at the child as his distorted features and dripping fangs caused her to writhe with fear.

I know those eyes! Where have I seen that Were’s face?

“Trespasser!” I cried, speaking the only word I had heard from other lips since my travels began.

The wolf spun. His scent hit me fully, causing my gorge to rise. It smelled as if his last meal had been dead for quite some time before he had indulged. He growled as he came for me, his yellow eyes intent on my throat.

I let my arms hang limp, as if his charge had petrified me. At the last moment I spun aside, burying the dagger deep into his chest. Now he screamed, more from rage than pain, since my weapon contained no silver. He staggered into the wall and turned for another charge, but could not find me. I hovered above him, hanging from the ceiling, my hands and feet anchored to the boards that had been uncovered when chunks of plaster had fallen during the building’s decay.

Having lost sight of his latest quarry, the wolf stalked toward the child, his low-bellied rumble raising the hairs on the back of my neck. The moment he walked beneath me I dropped, landing prone on his back like a trainer of wild horses. But this beast would never be tamed. And so, as he rolled and snapped, clawing at me over his shoulders, I buried my fangs in his neck.

His blood tasted foul, and I did not sup. Only summoned the cold fury that rode me every waking moment and pushed it into the wound I had made. It felt… delicious. I found I could not stop. I wanted him to choke on my sorrow. To die again and again since I, damned father that I was, could not. I shoved the ice of my undeath into him until his eyes bulged and his ears cracked.

“Is he dead?”

Such a small voice. And miraculously steady for what she had just seen. I raised my head.

“Perhaps. Werewolves are notoriously difficult to kill, however, so you must run home.” She looked around at the filthy, curtainless room with its corner full of papers and four distinct marks where a bed had once stood. “I am home.”

“How old are you?”

“Eleven.”

I dug into my pocket and gave her a pouch containing all the money I had left in the world. “Go find another home. One that is clear of both dirt and monsters.” She looked at me with wide blue eyes. “Will you come with me?”

“I… cannot. My time for homes is past.”

She nodded, as if she understood how the warm blood pumping through her body tempted me even now. After she left I turned back to the wolf. Silver I did not have, but I thought I knew another way to finish him. Ah, if only he did not smell so damned—

“Jaz!”

I jerked my head, banging it against the tower so hard my ears rang. I looked down. Bergman stood at its base, his hand gripping the arm of Ruvin’s wife.

I signaled to Cole and Kyphas that I was heading down. As I climbed I told myself firmly, No. That’s all. Just, no. I’m not going nuts today. Okay, so now I can relive Vayl’s past. That’s fine. Some people are skilled fishermen. You don’t see them hurling themselves off water towers just because they know which lures to pick for the big tournament. I’ve just gotta figure out why I had that particular vision. The girl looked familiar, but I think she’s just reminding me of some young actress. So it’s the Were, right? I’m sure I’ve seen those yellow eyes somewhere before. Yeah, and those raggedy ass ears too. Vayl didn’t end up killing it after all. It survived. And now…

I reached the bottom rung. Felt the ground, solid beneath my feet. And grinned. Because I knew, strange as it sounded, that the wolf was Roldan, Sol of the Valencian Weres.

Which means he’s been alive a long damn time! Judging by Vayl’s clothes, that gig couldn’t have gone down any later than 1770. And I’ve never heard of a Were living longer than a hundred and fifty years. So what the hell’s gotten into him? Or should I say who?

Maybe Miles’s little buddy could tell me. I glanced at Astral, who sat quietly, whir/purring like she’d never spoken a word in her short, bizarre robolife. “Make sure you record this for the Enkyklios ,” I murmured to her. “Somebody might find it helpful in the future.” I’d never have known she heard me, except she glued her attention to Tabitha and never let her eyes waver from the shaman once during our entire conversation.

I said, “Tabitha, why aren’t you with your sons?”

“I… was looking for Ruvin,” she answered. “He’s turned off his phone. And that’s not like him. I was afraid…” She trailed off, maybe seeing the doubt in my eyes. I’d believe a lot of emotions from Tabitha.

Fear wasn’t one of them.

“What an interesting outfit you chose to wear for your hunt,” I told her, reaching out to rub the feathered collar of her knee-length tunic between my fingers. Beneath it she wore loose pants made from an animal she might have tanned herself they looked so primitive. The seams were sewn on the outside with a dark brown strip of leather strung every few inches with red and blue beads. Emu feathers hung from metal rings clamped into the pants at knee level.

Tabitha looked down at herself. “This is, ah, a traditional seinji pantsuit designed to hasten the conception process,” she said.

“Bullshit.”

Her eyes bugged. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know, something’s been bothering me from the start. I couldn’t put my finger on it because it seemed almost normal to me. And then I realized, that’s because I grew up with a bitch for a mother.” Her eyes darted to mine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No, I don’t guess you would. They never do. But, take my word for this, good moms never leave a dangerous situation ahead of their sons. During the rescue, you charged out of the warren first, with them running behind you trying to keep up. And back at the house, they should’ve run to you for comfort.

Instead they came to Ruvin and us. You know why? Because they’ve figured out, at some level, that you don’t give a crap about them.”

“You are out of line—”

“But here’s where I get a little fuzzy. Why, if you’re so disinterested in Laal and Pajo, are you so eager to have another baby?”

“I don’t think they’re actually hers,” said Bergman. “Remember their bone structure? How even and symmetrical their faces were? But Tabitha and Ruvin have long foreheads and chins. I think—”

“They’re adopted, all right?” Tabitha snapped. “They’re not even…” She started to say something, stopped, began again. “I just want a child of my own flesh. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Plenty, if you’re treating the other two like crap.” I wanted to shake her. I jerked my head at Miles. He still had a good grip; maybe he’d get the message. “I don’t know why you’re getting so wound up in this DNA bullshit. It doesn’t make for a happier family, believe me. I can point you to thousands of couples who’d give everything they own to raise a child that didn’t share their biology. So what’s your problem?”

“Ilda fra priladr neld! ” she growled.

Cole’s voice rose, excited, in my ear. “Jaz, she’s starting to curse you. Don’t let her finish it.” I nodded. I could feel the stirrings of power as well.

“What did you just say?” I asked.

“Echreada Ufran pilrat sritarnem, de aflor drmep sehike! ” she replied, almost smug, not realizing I had a translator listening in.

I grabbed the nearest handy piece of clothing, which happened to be Miles’s baseball cap, and slapped her with it. The rudeness of my interruption clipped her curse short, shocking her into silence. But not for long.

“How dare you strike me?” she cried. “I am Ufran’s chosen, the shaman of my people!”

“Tell me about that. How does a woman without a tail or a single spot of blue on her nose rise to the highest place of honor among her people?”

“Ufran spoke to me,” she said simply. “He told me to return to the warren and take my rightful place. He said I deserved everything that had been denied me all the years my mother hid my identity and my deformity.”

“Where were you when Ufran gave you this message?” I asked.

“Ruvin and I were in Scotland adopting Laal.”

“And I suppose you traveled to Valencia, at Ufran’s bidding, soon after?” Her jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

I shook my head. “Did you arrange your own kidnapping?”

“How else was I supposed to get Ruvin’s cooperation?”

“You’re willing to sacrifice your husband for some insane scheme that’s only going to get your people killed?”

“If that is what Ufran commands.”

“Wow. You’re a bigger dumbass than I thought.”

The whole time we’d been talking, Cole had been making strange noises in my ear. Like he was holding back a bad cough. Now he lost it. Peals of laughter rocked my eardrums. I said, “Cole! What the hell?”

“Jaz! Look at Bergman!”

I raised my eyes. For a moment my lips sealed themselves and I feared Brude had retaken my brain.

Then I realized the shock had simply paralyzed me for the seconds it took to process the fact that our genius consultant, the most practical, logical person I knew, had gotten a perm. And dyed his hair blond.

“Aw, shit, Miles.”

Bergman’s shoulders slumped. “Cole gets all the girls. I thought, you know.” He grabbed one of his curls and tugged. “Maybe I could have just one.”

“But he’s never going to let any of us live this down.”

“Damn straight!” Cole hooted. “I’ve got the luv-do. Next thing you know Vayl will be stepping into the beauty shop for a little Cole-over.”

“See what I mean?”

Tabitha cleared her throat. “I like it.”

Even Astral sounded extra interested as she purred, “Hello!” CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

While Miles smiled shyly at his new admirers, I shoved the Braves hat back on his head. “Get a grip, dude. Literally. Keep this murdering piece of trash waiting in the street until I call for you. And whatever you do, don’t let her talk. Got it?”

He nodded.

“Astral’s got your back. Don’t hesitate to sic her on Tabitha if she gets out of line. I’m going back up.” I shook my head at the idiocy of some people.

Cole’s chuckles echoed through my head as I, once again, scaled Wirdilling’s old water tower. “I’m gonna make up a song about the Cole-do,” said my sniper, his ego ballooning so drastically I was surprised he didn’t float right off the roof. “What do you think about this one, Jack? We’ll rap it until we get some music down. Wild man, wild hair, waving in the breeze, like a whip-crack, lip-smack, gimme some squeeze. ”

Despite the fact that I could hear Jack’s enthusiastic woo-woo in the background, I snapped, “Keep your day job. In fact, tell me you’re actually doing your day job.”

“Chill, wouldja? I’m looking through my scope like I have been since I took position.” Short pause.

“C’mon. Admit you like my hair.”

“I’d like it better if your head wasn’t so full of—” I stopped, my hand on the platform. “I felt something,” I whispered as it began to thrum. “Get ready.”

I pulled myself up and took my original position just in time to see the sky car flying toward us from the direction of the trail.

“How did we beat them here?” Cole wondered.

“Vayl must’ve figured a way to slow them down,” I replied. “Kyphas! You got that hat of yours moded out?”

“I am readier than you are!” she said.

Grimacing, I pulled Grief and prepped it to fire as we moved to the north side of the tower, Kyphas on the post office corner, me on the Crindertab’s side. Now we could make out bodies, large and small, all of them moving inside the swaying vehicle. Vayl still rode the undercarriage, the outline of his body reminding me of a huge spider waiting to pounce.

“What are they doing here?” Tabitha screamed. “They’re supposed to be at the Space Complex!” She began to chant, more gnomish that I didn’t understand and Cole didn’t have time to interpret. But I could feel something stir inside the tower. “Shut her up, Bergman!”

“I’m trying! Ow! Stop biting me!”

“Watcha doing up there, mate?”

I took a second to glance down. A couple had strolled into the street. The girl I recognized as Polly, our waitress from Crinder-tab’s. She held a baby-blue robe closed across her chest, like she didn’t trust the belt to do the job. The guy she’d brought along wore a T-shirt, boxers, black socks, and ankle boots.

“We’re practicing a scene from the movie!” I said. “You’ll have to clear the street. We can’t risk—”

“I told ya, Lymon!” Polly said excitedly. “Didn’t I say we should keep an eye on these blokes? Never know when the cameras will roll. Do you need extras?” she asked.

“Incoming!” Cole yelled.

The tower began to shake hard enough that I had to brace myself against the wall. A crack appeared about ten feet above my head and worked its way to the top.

“Bloody hell!” I heard Lymon say. “Those are amazing effects!”

“Ow! Dammit!” Bergman yelled. “Jaz! Tabitha’s going for my nads! Astral’s chasing her own tail, and my mother taught me never to hit a girl!”

Fuck!

“Let her go, Miles!” I ordered. “And get those civilians under cover! Now!” The crack widened. I realized the only original wood was the material we’d been able to touch. The rest was gnome grown. And because people never noticed what they passed every day, rarely even looked up, no one had realized.

I clicked on the safety and stowed Grief in its holster. “I’m going in!” I said. The crack was now the width of my shoulders. But even if I jumped I wouldn’t be able to get a hand on the edge.

“Do you need a lift?” I’d run to Kyphas’s side of the tower, where she stood tossing her boomerang up and down so casually you’d have thought we were about to have a distance-throwing competition.

“Yeah.”

Giving me her I-know-more-than-you-do smile, she leaned over and cupped her hands. Which was when I hopped onto her shoulders and sprang onto the roof.

“Hey!” Her protest, backlit by Cole’s chuckle, was quickly lost in the wave of sound that washed into the tower as the sky car arrived right after me.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

My hands sank through a foot of plant material until they found a solid support. Knowing a two-by-four when I felt one, I grabbed hold and flipped the rest of my body around to join my hands inside the tower.

My collarbone twanged as I asked it to contort more than it had since I’d broken it weeks before. But it held, giving my legs a chance to find the stud that angled up to meet the one I held. I worked my way to the floor of the tower just in time to look over and see Kyphas land on the balls of her feet beside me.

She grinned. “I’m better than you are.”

“Go ahead,” I told her, giving her Lucille’s winning smile. “Keep thinking that.” It’s just going to make kicking your ass that much more satisfying in the end.

A frown marred her perfect brow as the sky car came to a rumbling halt inside the cube, its temporary door already growing closed as the passengers waited for the stairs to roll to their door. Except no grunts were running around the massive wooden hangar pushing trolleys full of suitcases or waving orange-tipped dildo lookalikes to direct everybody else where to go.

I watched the car sway above the floor’s center, its cable glinting in the lights that had begun to glow the moment the roof shut. They’d been strung like Christmas twinklers along the frame of the building proper.

The planted sections of tower had their own set of support beams that had folded back to admit the car and then returned to center. I reminded myself to give Bergman a tour if we all survived this.

“Cole! We’re going to need you here as soon as—” I whispered. I heard a pop. “What the hell?”

“Don’t worry. Just a gum-bubble breaking. I’m on my way. Where should I leave Jack?”

“There will be no dumping of my dog. You figure out how to haul his ass up here or you don’t come.”

“Weakling,” Kyphas sneered.

“Spinster.”

She tossed her boomerang in the air and glared.

Vayl dropped to the floor, rolling to soften the impact. I saw fang flash as he ran, blending into the shadows even better than those of us who were standing perfectly still.

“I believe the Space Complex is safe for now,” he said as he joined us. “But we must free Ruvin immediately. Johnson has begun to show signs of illness.”

That meant the larvae could arrive at any time!

“How are we supposed to get to him? I don’t see any stairs,” I said. Before Vayl could suggest a plan, the gnomes began to climb out the sky car’s door. Working with remarkable cooperation, holding on to one another from wrists to ankles, they formed a living ladder that reached the floor. Johnson and Tykes came next, stepping on heads and fingertips, occasionally slipping. The gnomes moaned as Tykes made his way down because his waist alone had more rolls than a school cafeteria. He fell the last five feet.

The two gnomes left in the sky car came to the door, holding a struggling Ruvin between them. It looked like they intended to drop him. Apparently larvae didn’t care if the midwife’s flesh was full of broken bones, only that it still lived.

“Go!” said Vayl just as a shirtless Cole burst through the plant roof carrying Jack next to his chest in a homemade, sleeve-fluttering sling.

Kyphas flung her boomerang toward Ruvin’s guards. She hit the one on the right so hard that his nose imploded and blood sprayed out the door as if somebody had turned on a hose full of cherry Kool-Aid. I saw him stagger backward just as I slammed into the gnome ladder. The two nearest the bottom dropped to the floor.

I sprang up, grabbing the lowest hanging guard by his fancy pants and hoping he believed in belts as much as he felt that broken ankles should be discussed but never experienced. He wriggled and kicked, but didn’t think of loosening his grip until I’d latched on to the next gnome in line.

Later Vayl confessed he was so concerned about me falling and breaking another bone that he nearly let Cole and Kyphas do the rest of the work. They did make a disturbingly fluid team. While Kyphas immobilized an Ufranite on the floor, Cole stripped off the shirt sling and let Jack run, giving himself full access to the Parker-Hale he’d packed on his back. His first shot took out the second sky car guard, but not before he’d given Ruvin a hard push.

Vayl sped forward to catch the seinji. Who was a dense little man. The impact sent them both through the tower’s floor.

I began to pick gnomes off the ladder. Already breathing heavily from the exertion of climbing, holding, hanging, and fighting, they couldn’t seem to function when I punched them in the diaphragm. One after another they dropped, falling prey either to their awkward landings, or Cole and Kyphas’s attentions.

Finally I was in.

I took a quick look around. Plush seats on either end. Poles in the middle with handholds on the sides.

Where the hell are the controls? I felt along the smooth backrests and footkicks. Then I tore the cushions off. Under the second one I found a set of indentations in the seat, beside which had been written words in a language I didn’t understand. But above them, for the illiterate or slow-on-the-uptake, color pictures of the various destinations at which one might expect to arrive if she thumbed one of those hollows. I jammed my finger into the one next to a pristine white beach. The sky car lurched.

I looked out. Saw Kyphas grab Johnson by the collar and begin to whisper to him. He shook his head.

She bit a gaping hole in his ear. He screamed, but his hands didn’t go to the new wound. They were at his chest. Ripping his shirt open so he could watch his skin split.

“Kyphas!” I yelled. “Kill him now!”

She smiled, pretending not to hear as he fell to the floor, convulsing, blood staining his thighs and shoulders as the larvae began to emerge. A single loud shot. Cole, at least, had heard my order.

“Watch for larvae!” I called as a new section of roof began to retract and the sky car turned, performing an automatic cable change that hardly even made it sway. He nodded, saw one inching toward a downed guard and stomped. Jack had found another, taken a bite and pronounced it yummy. Holy crap, what kind of food would that mutt ever snub? While my dog ran around the room, snapping up snacks, I watched the distance between the sky car and the roof narrow. If I timed it just right I’d be able to jump back onto the tower supports. If not, I’d plummet to my death.

“Jaz!” Cole called.

I looked back. He cracked a stirring guard in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. “What?”

“We’re missing one!”

“Gnome?”

“No! Carrier! I think Tykes went out the hole in the floor!” No big deal. Probably. I mean, Vayl had gone first with Ruvin. No doubt they had him surrounded.

“You going to be okay?” I asked, not looking back. It was almost time for my jump.

“As long as Jack doesn’t puke right away I think we’re good. Meetcha on the other side!” I slid to the edge of the sky car’s door. And jumped.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR

The sky car lurched just as I left it, throwing me sideways so that I hit the tower’s maintenance platform rolling. I scrabbled for a hold, my fingernails digging in so deeply that splinters flew. But I was moving too fast to stop my spin. I fell over the side, reaching for any kind of hold that could slow my momentum. My hand punched into empty air, my fingers flailed. Then my forearm hit a support beam and I locked my elbow around it, grabbing my wrist with my opposite hand to complete the circle just in time to stop my descent.

“Jesus!” I screamed as the wood dug into my joint, making me wonder briefly if my muscles and tendons were going to rip free, forcing me to go hook hunting before my next mission. They held.

I dangled there for a second, my knees banging into the tower’s supports, trying not to blubber from the pain and relief. Then I found a foothold and began a more controlled descent, wishing I had time to rub the sore spot. Or at least pout a little.

That’s it, Pete, you and I are going to— I stopped. Pete had died. Murdered in his own office. And I would never get to mentally bitch-slap him again. I took a deep breath.

Later, I promise. I will cry for you until my lungs bleed. And after that I’ll find your killer. That’s another promise, my friend. But for now, surely you’d want me to do this.

I hoped so. But even if my late boss would’ve preferred me to fall into a useless heap of snot bubbles I’d have kept climbing. Because that was the only way I knew to survive.

Vayl and Ruvin weren’t hanging out under the tower. Okay, then. Maybe my sverhamin was slamming Tykes into Crindertab’s porch-side wall while Ruvin clapped his hands in delight. Which wouldn’t last long once he heard about Tabitha.

Maybe we can get one of the Resistance gnomes to tell him.

I’d taken a couple of steps toward the restaurant when I heard the command.

“Stop where you are, Lucille.” I turned toward Wirdilling Drive. Where Tabitha stood holding a little girl in her arms. It was Alice, the barefoot wonder from Crindertab’s, looking sleepy and somewhat confused as she realized her mum was nowhere nearby. She began to struggle, but Tabitha had a firm grip. Behind her stood the last living carrier, Tykes, looking pale and nauseous. Kneeling before her—

aww no! —Ruvin and Vayl.

“Do you see what I have done?” she exulted as I slowly walked toward her. “I have sent your leader to his knees. And all it took was the life of a little child.” Her wrist moved slightly and I saw the steak knife she held, probably stolen from a drawer of the house from which she’d nabbed the girl while her mom and Lymon were distracted.

I should’ve told Bergman to kill her when he had the chance. Not that he’d have been capable.

But then I wouldn’t have this searing guilt.

“Not much can down a man of his caliber,” Tabitha said, smirking down at Vayl. “But when I saw him talking with Laal and Pajo, I knew I’d found his vulnerability.” The rage that erupted inside my head actually surprised me. Oh, I’d felt levels of anger that would shrivel most souls. But this—it felt so big that I wouldn’t have been shocked to find it billowing behind me like a giant storm cloud. That she’d dare to try such a move on any honorable man would’ve made me want to cut her throat. But that she had taken my man and tried to make him grovel, as if that proud head could ever be bowed. I ground my teeth and wished that I could burn her where she stood. Yeah, despite the consequences, I might have if she hadn’t been holding a tearful toddler.

I looked at the little girl. And felt something I hadn’t in Crindertab’s, when I’d been distracted by karaoke and greasy fries. A small stirring from a tiny body that had, I’d wager, already died once in this life. I stopped by the side of the road. And smiled.

“You’re going to be all right,” I told little Alice. “When this is all over Cole and I will take you up to the mountains, where it’s cold and snowy. If you’re like us, which I’m sure you are, you won’t even get chilled.”

I dropped my eyes to Vayl’s. As soon as his flashed from black to red, I knew he understood. I felt his power snap, eager to roar out of him. But there was still Ruvin to consider. The seinji knelt, blank-faced, brokenhearted, shaking his head every few seconds as wave after wave of truth crashed over him. So even if Tabitha’s hostage was a Sensitive, which would give her near immunity to Vayl’s attacks, Ruvin might not survive the blizzard my sverhamin wanted to bury his wife in. We’d have to make this one surgical.

Tykes began to convulse. “Wha—what’s happening?” he asked.

“You’re about to die,” I told him. “Slowly. Painfully. It’s going to be a closed-casket funeral.” He shook his head as Tabitha kicked Ruvin in the back. “Get up!” she said. “As soon as the larvae have begun feasting on you I’ll carry them to the Space Complex myself.”

“How’re you going to do that?” I asked. “It’s a long walk from here and your sky car’s on its way to a clambake.”

“I’m not just proficient at stealing babies,” Tabitha said, shaking Alice in her arms. She jerked her head backward, directing my attention to an old pickup truck so covered with dust it looked more pink than red. She’d parked it in the alley between the doctor’s office and the hardware store, so all I could see was the tailgate and the dented chrome where she’d cornered too fast and slid into the side of the building.

Tykes screamed as the skin of his face began to bulge.

I raised an eyebrow at Vayl. He lifted his chin. As we poised to attack, a voice behind Tabitha said,

“Hello.”

Astral came trotting around her feet to stand at mine.

Alice squealed, “Kitty!” and reached down for her, dropping her weight so fast that Tabitha couldn’t keep her balanced. She clutched at the single leg that remained in her grasp while dropping the blade to prevent an accidental stabbing.

Vayl whirled, grasping Tabitha’s knife hand so quickly that his movements blurred. We heard a crack. A scream. And then Vayl was on her. And not even Ufran could stop the forces he speared through her body.

“Ruvin! Run!” I yelled, lunging for the kid just as Astral roared—like the MGM lion! Ruvin started, fell, scrabbled toward the road’s shoulder.

Alice didn’t even squeak as I pulled her out of Tabitha’s stiffening arms, she was so busy giggling at the funny kitty. Who’d crouched in the road, her tail lashing the asphalt like she meant to spring on her prey at any moment. I didn’t know what she thought she could do to Tykes, who was flat on his back, bleeding so heavily his clothes looked more like field bandages than office attire. But she looked serious.

I gave the kid to Ruvin. “Get her away,” I told him. “Don’t let her see. Anything.” He nodded and hustled her into the shadows.

“Miles,” I snapped. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell Polly and Lymon their kid’s okay and we’ll bring her in a minute.”

“Uh-oh. Polly just went to check on her—” Blood-curdling scream. Polly hadn’t been kidding about the lung capacity. She could do the victim in a slasher movie any day. “I’ll tell them.”

“And stay away, dude. The larvae are hatching and I don’t want them to catch your scent.”

“Jaz!” It was Cole. “What do you need?”

“For you and Kyphas to control those Ufranites until we figure this out!” I replied.

Vayl rose, dropping Tabitha to the road, a blank-eyed shaman-doll whose icy blue skin had finally given her nose the hue she’d always wanted. She wasn’t dead. No, not quite. We couldn’t afford to make a martyr of her. But she was going to take a while to thaw.

“Anything?” I asked him. He had a nifty way of absconding with others’ powers. So I was hoping…

He shook his head. “She possesses nothing innate. It is all contained within the feathers and leathers she wears. She simply acts as a conduit.”

I drew Grief and walked up to Tykes. His face, stretched in a silent scream of pain, might’ve been covered in tears. But you couldn’t see them for the blood.

“No larvae yet,” I said.

Vayl came to stand beside me. “They do say every birth is different.” Tykes moaned. “Kill me. Please.”

So easy to pull the trigger. Usually they’re begging me not to. I’d like to say it’s a little harder then.

But… no. Maybe I’m like an alcoholic who knows she’s offing brain cells but doesn’t care because she can’t see them dying. Only mine are in my soul. Hey, as long as I avoid any sort of introspection for the next sixty years, I should be fine.

“I’ll be happy to,” I told Tykes. “But first how about you tell me what the bad guys really want? How do we stop this from happening again?”

“I don’t know, okay? My boss just told—” The sound choked off as Tykes’s neck began to bulge.

I said, “Vayl? I don’t think this dude’s all that fat after all. I think—” The upper half of his body exploded with a sound that I’ll never forget. Skin ripping. Bones cracking. Joints popping. Blood gushing out in a larval-clogged spray.

I closed my eyes in time, but it doesn’t do much good when your face is dripping with gore, and dozens of man-eaters the size of garden slugs are chomping their way into your brain stem.

“Jasmine!”

I couldn’t reply. Didn’t dare open my mouth in case one of them slid in.

Don’t panic! Don’t panic!

I dropped Grief and grabbed at my nose, the stings on my upper lip telling me they had my airway nearly covered. I ripped a handful away and took a deep breath. I wanted to scream. God! Cry. Stamp my feet and hyperventilate. But if I let go, even just a little bit, I’d die. Eaten alive by infant gnomes.

I felt Vayl’s hands on me. Tearing larvae and skin. Pulling out hair along with the nasties. He yanked off my shirt and I moaned. So many of them feeding at my legs and belly. But more trying to get at my neck, my ears, and I only had two hands.

Vayl came at me again, and then I felt warm liquid. What? Didn’t know. Didn’t care. Where it hit the larvae dropped. And it left behind a soothing tingle. I finally cleared my eyes. Yeah, my face was okay. I felt my head, my neck. All good.

I risked a look at Vayl. He’d stepped back. Okay, so he hadn’t miraculously discovered that Crindertab’s coffee killed gnome larvae. What—I looked down. At Astral. Who was spraying me. Out of her butt. Like a tomcat.

At her paws lay the larvae, twitching.

“What?” croaked Tabitha.

I kept running my fingers through my hair, over every part of my body. I didn’t feel anything. Could I really be free?

“Bergman? Why didn’t you tell me you’d invented a larval spray for Astral to carry? It’s knocked them out!”

Cole piped up. “I can see them through my scope,” he said. “I think they’re stoned!”

“How did she pass the spray?” Bergman asked.

“Ass projectile!” Cole hooted. “Took those larvae down like beer on slugs!”

“But it’s not nearly that potent!” Bergman insisted. “Just a mist that’s supposed to neutralize her scent in case the target has dogs!”

“What’s in it?”

“A few chemicals I’d rather not talk about. The base is salt water.” Tabitha’s screech didn’t last long, but it came straight from the heart.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE

Vayl and I raised Tabitha upright. She tottered slightly, but finally stood in place, like a life-sized collectible with a steel rod shoved up her back to make sure she didn’t slouch to one side and ruin her pretty costume. At her feet lay Tykes’s remains, his torso a mass of blood and pulp, made even more obscene by the perfect intactness of both his legs, encased in tightly creased gray trousers lightly spattered with red. They reminded me of the wooden figures old towns set up to commemorate historic events. Except they usually keep their mannequins out of the streets.

I leaned in, holding the tails of the shirt Vayl had lent me back so they wouldn’t touch her and somehow become contaminated. “How come you’re so ticked about the salt water, shammy?” She was so angry her hair shook as she said, “That’s what the nursemaids cocoon the larvae in, you interfering piece of shit!”

“Tut-tut. We can’t have the leader of a major religious movement like yours swearing in public, now, can we?” I asked.

Vayl said, “So are you saying the salt water triggered the larvae into beginning their next developmental phase?”

Tabitha sneered at me. “You like your lovers dumb, don’t you?” No thought. Just a windup followed by one hellacious slap that snapped her head sideways. I said,

“He’s too much of a gentleman to seek revenge for what you tried to do to him before. But I was raised by a woman who’s now doing time—in hell. I suggest you remember that before you insult him again.” Cole hissed, “Heads up! The Ufranites are coming!”

“Cassandra brought our reinforcements?” I asked.

“If you count the whole warren.”

“No kidding?”

“I’m watching them through my scope. Cassandra’s riding on a cushioned stool in the middle of the crowd. I’m not sure what that means, but considering all the adoring looks she’s getting, we may have to buy her a tiara for Christmas.”

Vayl adjusted Tabitha’s stance so her back was fully turned to the oncoming crowd. They came quietly, their approach made all the more threatening by the total absence of background murmur that let us know they’d come with an agenda.

He waited until they could overhear our conversation. Then he said loudly, “Go ahead, Lucille. I will allow you to execute Tabitha since her larvae nearly killed you just now.” I retrieved Grief. Made sure the shaman watched me chamber a round before I said, “You got any last words? Or are you okay with going down in history as the cult leader who was willing to sacrifice her flock’s children so Ufran could run around in his boxers all day?” Tabitha laughed. “You believed that nonsense? You’re as much a patsy as the rest of those bow-legged cretins.”

I said, “You mean you didn’t want to kill off the kiddies?”

“Of course! That was the point! When Ufran spoke to me, he told me what I needed to do in order to have my own child. He said that I should sacrifice the gnomes’ children, an entire hatching. And he told me how. The longer the plan evolved the more beautiful it became. First it was just Australia’s bunch that would tear into Canberra Deep Space Complex’s connections. Then I convinced the Ufranites in Madrid and California to join in. But the closer the time came, the more jittery they got. Only my partnership with the werewolves, and their generous donations to each church involved, have kept our plans on track.”

“What about your people? Don’t you think some of them will want your head on a platter when they learn how you’ve betrayed them?”

“Why would they? I’ve earned them enough money to buy new sun generators for the entire colony.

They’ll be able to grow crops without worry for the next twenty years.”

“And all it took was the death of everyone’s larvae.” Okay, they weren’t all dead. But I was going for dramatic effect, okay?

“Who cares? I am the shaman! And now I’ll have a child of my own.”

“I don’t think so.”

She’d recovered enough by now to nod. Even her skin had pinked up. “Ufran promised me!”

“That’s just it. He didn’t.”

She laughed. And stopped when she saw neither of us were joining in.

I went on, “The guy you saw was a Domytr named King Brude. He was just posing as a god to get you to do his dirty work.”

Denial in those darting eyes. The lips, however, trembled slightly as she said, “I don’t believe you.”

“He has a tattoo on his stomach shaped like a scythe. There’s one on his left shoulder that reminds me of a sea turtle and a lawn chair doing the horizontal mambo.”

“H-how did you know?”

“Like I said, Tabitha, you don’t talk to gods.”

“But I do,” said Cassandra. The Ufranites had lowered her to the ground. She stood among them, wearing a heavy, shapeless robe and a green woven hat that added at least eight inches to her height. Still she managed to look like a beauty queen. How fair is that?

Vayl spun Tabitha around, and when she saw Cassandra standing safe among all her followers I heard her gag.

“As I was leaving the shaman’s quarters, I laid my hand on the traditional headdress. And Ufran came to me,” Cassandra said softly. The light in her eyes was new. Otherworldly. “He had tried to speak to me before, but I have not acted as an oracle in so long that I missed his message the first time.”

“How could that be?” snapped Tabitha. “He always spoke loud and clear to me.”

“You were talking to Lucifer’s bounty hunter,” I told her.

Cassandra nodded. “Ufran speaks in a gentle, quiet voice. Because he is not a god who would want his people to sacrifice their young for any reason.”

“Yeah!” came the roar from the crowd.

“Nor does he want them entering life having cannibalized another creature. Dead flesh works just as effectively for them and is much more humane.” Cassandra threw a package of hamburger into the street.

The nearest larvae wriggled slowly toward it. As soon as they encountered plastic they burrowed right through and into the meat.

“I would beware of who I agree to partner with as well,” Vayl said. “The Valencian Weres may talk respectfully, but their loyalties lie completely with their Sol and his pack.” Loud murmurs of agreement from the Ufranites. But underneath, a new sound. One so faint I would’ve missed it if I hadn’t been standing almost on top of it. I looked down. Tykes’s trousers had ripped at the seams. Because his legs had doubled in size.

“Vayl! Cassandra! Run!” I blew outta there so fast I’d reached Tabitha’s getaway truck and jumped into the bed before I heard the fleshy splat of exploding tissue. Even from my vantage point I could see blood and larvae fly into the air.

And then Tabitha began to scream.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX

Istood in the rental house shower, technically goop-free as of five minutes ago but still feeling polluted.

Brude. Even if we were able to find the Rocenz and scrape him outta my brain, would I ever consider myself clean again?

Plus, we’d heard from Martha. Only our mission had succeeded. NASA had taken hard knocks in California and Madrid, from which it wouldn’t soon recover. So Roldan’s stock had just doubled, making the Valencian Weres the newest, worst threat to national security. Bad news for the good guys.

Especially considering Cassandra’s vision. More than ever before I worried for the safety of my team. In light of Pete and Ethan’s deaths, I’d pleaded with them all to go home. Let Vayl and I tackle the next leg of this quest alone, especially since it wouldn’t be an Agency-sanctioned mission. Only Cassandra had agreed to fly back to the States, and I still thought the main reason was because Dave had called to let her know he was about to come home for a couple of months. At least she was taking Jack along. Now I wouldn’t have to worry about him becoming possessed too.

A knock at the door. “Occupied!” It opened anyway. “What the hell?” Vayl said, “I have sent the others into Canberra to secure transportation for us to Sydney and, from there, to Marrakesh. They will be, how do you say, crashing at a hotel in the city afterward.” I leaned against the wall. So tired. What was that saying? Yeah, I guess I could sleep when I was dead.

“Okay. Wait, you sent what others?” I strained to hear. Was that a coat dropping to the floor?

“All of them.”

“It takes four people to book plane tickets?”

“No. But it takes one person to watch Cole and another to monitor Kyphas; therefore, I sent the lot.” Yup, that sounded like a belt buckle. “Where’s Jack?”

“In the backyard.”

“And Astral?”

“Locked in Bergman’s room with orders not to slide beneath the crack.”

“Wow. You got rid of everybody.”

I tried to ignore the Inner Bimbo, who was chuckling and noting that elimination was kinda his job. The librarian was also waving for my attention. She wanted to tidy up the piles of unshelved experiences.

Tabitha’s demise. Ruvin’s quiet exit. Cassandra’s Ufran-trance, during which she chose the new shaman.

The call we’d made to Martha after. The tears we’d shed for Pete before agreeing to lay low until she could set up new deep cover offices. We hadn’t told her about the plan to find the Rocenz, or that we’d need to travel to Morocco to do it. Just let her know we’d do our best to be back for the funeral. But I wanted to leave all of that until the hot water ran cold. I figured I had ten minutes left. That was all I wanted. Ten minutes of—

“May I join you?” Silky request that sounded more like an invitation from the other side of the shower curtain.

“Yeah.”

I just stared at him for a while after he’d stepped into the tub. Already he’d taught me the pleasure of patience. Anticipation. I watched the water droplets trickle down his shoulders, nestle in the hair of his chest, emphasize the muscles of his thighs.

“You look amazing. If I were an artist, I would totally paint you.” The sides of his lips quirked. “Perhaps I should purchase you a set of brushes.”

“But I can’t—”

“Ahhh, surely you could think of other uses for them?”

He pulled me into his arms, his hands, his skin warm against mine, his lips and tongue all working to remind me that crap was always lying around in a steaming pile. But I could sidestep it if I wanted. Get wet and soapy with a gorgeous vampire and remind myself why life could be good. If I decided it should be.

CHAPTERFOUR

We’d decided to spend the first hour of our wait for the Odeam team stuffing our faces at Wirdilling’s one and only eatery. But as I stood beside Vayl at the end of a row of connected gray-faced shops, contemplating what might be the scariest little pub in the southern hemisphere, I told myself I wasn’t that hungry. Because apparently somewhere nearby lurked a kickass fishing lake that people liked to visit during the warmer seasons. They didn’t always come prepared, so some bright businessman had decided to build a bait shop. And then stick a pub called Crindertab’s on the end of it. At least I hoped it hadn’t developed the other way.

The bait shop had a closed sign hanging from its faded green door. We weren’t so lucky with Crindertab’s. Its entry, peeling paint so old it probably contained enough lead to line a bunker, had one small window that allowed enough dim light to emerge to convince us the place was inhabited. I looked over my shoulder, longing to join Jack and Astral in the Wheezer, where they regarded each other warily from opposite ends of the interior.

Vayl opened the door. A tsunami of country music burst out of the opening, reminding me of all the reasons that I hated eating out.

I spun around. “I’ll have mine to go. Salad. Italian dressing. Lotsa crackers.” Vayl’s hand on my arm stopped me, unaccountably made my ribs itch. “I refuse to endure these tortures alone.”

His nod directed my attention to a setup to the left of the door. Which was when I realized the owner of the voice wailing Patsy Cline’s “Walkin’ After Midnight” sat behind a fold-out table, all but the top of her silver bangs hidden behind a bank of karaoke equipment.

Okay, this is just too weird to miss. But the ash-gray walls covered with framed pictures of old stamps (uniformed man and woman in a background of red, Pink Floydesque flowers about to eat each other, pissed-off Victoria holding her scepter in one hand and a Christmas ornament in the other) didn’t increase my appetite as I followed Vayl to a long wooden table in the corner whose top looked like it had been hammered by the boot heels of thousands of drunken cowboys.

I dodged a little girl who was speeding toward the bathroom. Barefoot. A couple of sets of old folks laughed at her progress, and I thought she’d come to eat with them. Until a plump waitress with black roots glaring out of her bleached-blond hair slammed through the kitchen doors and yelled, “Alice!

Gitchyer shoes on! Bloody hell, you’ll have the health inspectors down my throat in a minute!

“Don’t mind my daughter,” she told me when she caught me gaping. “She doesn’t bite. Much!” She grinned and moved on, leaving me to scope out the rest of the clientele. Who were even older than Alice’s ungrandfolks. Ah, but they loved those wail-and-woof songs. Much foot-tapping and head-bobbing after the microphone changed hands and a man’s voice began to sing a George Jones classic. His face hid behind a speaker but his stick-legs, covered by faded jeans and scuffed boots, entertained by pulling a few Elvis moves under the table as he belted, “Son she was hotter than a two dollar pistol, she was the fastest thing around.”

Vayl had taken his place at the head of the table. I sat to his left and Cole took the empty chair next to mine. He nodded toward the couples’ gams, two-stepping joyously while their upper bodies played hide-and-seek with the electronics. “So, have we just seen the ultimate in performance anxiety?” I shook my head. “That may be the most bizarre thing I’ve witnessed all day.”

“Do you think they’ll let me sing?” asked Cole.

“No!”

Before Cole could protest, Bergman dusted the crumbs off his seat and plonked his butt down opposite me. “Somebody’s a collector,” he said, nodding to the stamp prints.

“Or a pack rat,” Cassandra suggested as she sank down beside him, pointing out a shelf running all the way around the room about twelve inches below the ceiling. It sagged so badly under its load of fake plants, old tins, and cracked china that I was glad I’d chosen a middle-of-the-room chair.

Cole pulled a napkin from the dispenser and wadded his gum up in it. “If you could collect anything, what would it be?” he asked. Raising his hand like he meant for the teacher to pick him next, he twirled it around in the air a few times before pointing it at Bergman.

He answered instantly. “Girls’ phone numbers.”

Cole grinned. “I might be able to help you there. How about you, Lucille?”

“I don’t see the point,” I said. “Whatever it was would sit there gathering dust I’d never have time to wipe off.”

Alice’s mum came to take our orders. Her round, cheery face lifted my spirits instantly. I searched her with the extra sense that had come after my first death. Nope. No powers on her. She was just naturally fun to be around.

“G’day!” she said joyfully in that broad accent so many Americans confused for British. “It’s too bloody cold for camping. Tourists?” she guessed.

Vayl gave her his tight-lipped smile. His accent was so slight you hardly even noticed it unless he was upset. But as soon as he began talking I could see her trying to place his origin. “We are from Hollywood,” he said. “Our company, Shoot-Yeah Productions, is planning to do a film here next summer. Perhaps you have heard of us?”

As she shook her head, her mouth ratcheting open in a suitable show of awe, Cole added, “We specialize in action films starring some of America’s hottest new stars. And we’re always looking for fresh new faces.” His grin told her she might just be the freshest he’d seen yet. He stuck out his hand.

“My name’s Thor Long-fellow.”

“Well, isn’t that exciting?” she said as she gave it a dainty shake. “I’m Polly Smythe. Are you looking for extras? I can scream like bloody murder. Wanna hear?”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Cassandra. “Unfortunately our casting director had to stay back in California. He’s deathly afraid of wallabies. Oddly enough, he has no problem with crocodiles. But the wallabies make him crazy. Poor thing.”

All during Cassandra’s comment, delivered in a serious but angelic manner, Cole’s face had brightened to Jonathan-apple red as he struggled to hold back his laughter.

“Crazy, huh?” said Polly, frowning at the eccentricities of western Americans.

Cassandra nodded her head gravely. “He saw one at the zoo last year and spent the next week in the hospital. ‘Giant hopping rats!’ he kept squealing, rather like a Tourette’s patient. Only he doesn’t have Tourette’s, does he?” she asked Cole.

“No,” Cole squeaked, shaking his head rapidly as little gasps of overripe giggles escaped his quivering lips.

“Oh. Well, that is too bad.” Polly glanced down at the pad in her hand, remembered why she’d come to the table in the first place, and said, “What can I get for you today?” A diaper for Cole, because he’s not going to be able to hold it in much longer.

“You going to be all right there, dude?” I asked him.

He nodded.

“Do you want me to order for you?”

Another nod.

So I did. And after Polly left, Cole buried his face in a pile of napkins and leaned under the table, leaving the rest of us to pretend that our companion made a habit of howling into paper products before every meal.

The food sucked less than the music, though it left me with such a greasy-spoon aftertaste that Vayl suggested a walk might settle my stomach. Leaving a few bills on the table he told our desserting crew,

“We will meet you at the rental house.”

Within moments we’d left Crindertab’s and he’d pulled me around the corner into an empty side street.

He pressed me up against the stone wall. “It has been too long,” he breathed as his lips grazed my nose, cheeks, chin. His cane began a slow slide up my leg.

I swallowed a burp. My breath tasted like fish and chips. Great. I didn’t even know if he liked Murray cod. And I’d run out of mints somewhere between Sydney and Canberra. Also my chest itched like I’d dipped the girls in formaldehyde before strapping on a wool bra for the evening. I hadn’t felt less sexy since I’d broken my ankle in ninth grade and watched them pull the cast off to reveal—ugh. I still shudder to remember that moment. Me, sitting on the patient’s table hiding my face while Dave (who’d come for moral support) laughed like a wind-up clown and yelled, “Oh my God, it’s outta control! Quick, somebody call Gillette!”

I directed my words into Vayl’s chest, trying to ignore his roving hands, not to mention that tiger-carved treasure tickling my calf, as I said, “It’s been less than twenty-four hours, you nympho.” But I missed it like crazy. And I couldn’t help comparing that setting to this one.

His island, which office gossip had branded as a working gold mine, was a private paradise in the Philippines with a white-sand beach, a redbrick house fit for a family of ten, and a series of orange groves, which Vayl laughingly said brought him a more preferable income than ore, since at least the fruit grew back. If I closed my eyes I could still feel the warm ocean breeze brushing over my skin and through my hair, following the path of Vayl’s kisses.

We’d have been there still if Pete hadn’t interrupted our bliss with his urgent, only-you-can-pull-this-off, mission and then dropped the bomb that he’d already sent our regular crew in ahead of us so no way could we refuse to go. The son of a bitch. I might’ve begun to get mad again, thinking of the danger he could’ve put my people in. But he had taken major steps to appease me. Plus, Vayl, close and real, made it tough to hold grudges.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him tight. Because it felt like floating to snuggle with someone who cared that much. And rubbing against his buttons was even better than scratching. He seemed to like it too.

“To the house,” he said hoarsely, taking my hand.

“To the car first,” I whispered. “I’m not going anywhere without my weapons bag.” And once we got there, Jack did such a pathetic you-should-walk-me tail drag that we decided to take him and Astral too.

Night had fallen while we’d eaten. And enough streetlamps had been broken or left bulbless that it was easy for us to move through the shadows without being seen. Because of that, Wirdilling should’ve felt like a sheltering hand, hiding us from unwelcome eyes. Except its bones were shattered. And maybe its spirit too. Plastic bags and dented beer cans littered the street outside the single row of stores that passed for downtown.

To the left of Crindertab’s sat a beauty shop called JoJo’s with a sun-bleached picture of Hugh Jackman taped to the front window to encourage guys, as well as gals, to take advantage of their no appointments needed! policy. The organized client could stop into the library adjacent to JoJo’s first to pick up a dust-covered book, or maybe an old issue of New Idea magazine from the stack I saw teetering by the front door.

Completing the set of businesses south of the main drag, or Wirdilling Drive as the city father had named it, was a mobile home with bright green siding and a six-foot sign that yelled kippings general merchant to ignorant shoppers. Kippings sat just across from our side street, which allowed drivers access to its two white gas pumps. At one end of the building a red box with the word post painted on it also reminded them where they could drop their letters if their schedules demanded a drive-by. Less stressed individuals could follow another sign inside to the actual post office.

A third marker, standing by the edge of the road like a wary hitchhiker, pointed proudly to the sky as it announced: Historical Site! Wirdilling’s oldest standing structure, the wooden water tower was built in 1811 and used continuously until it was replaced by the new tower in 1939.

North of Wirdilling Drive, another stretch of storefronts advertised an insurance broker, antique dealer, Fooboo’s Bar, and a hardware store. An alley separated this row of businesses from a small doctor’s office whose window was so caked with dust it was clear no one had practiced there in years.

East of this stretch of capitalism, separated by several houses that all looked like they’d melted slightly during the hottest days of the previous summer, sat a school so nondescript it could’ve doubled as a warehouse. Two large signs nailed to the white picket fence that marked its border informed us that kids weren’t allowed inside anymore. But the building looked better maintained than the rest of the town put together. Because it had been purchased by Canberra Deep Space Complex and converted into guest housing units. Not that big a deal. I’d seen churches at home done the same way. And yet I’d never witnessed anything as sad as a school that couldn’t hold its kids anymore.

“Shouldn’t we stop?” I asked, looking over my shoulder as the school disappeared behind a row of evergreens. NASA had informed us that they’d offered the Odeam team the chance to bunk at the school, and they’d jumped at it.

“Not until the entire crew is with us. And right now I am trying to beat them back to the house.” I felt a giggle spill out of my lips. “Vayl? Are you suggesting a quickie before the kids get home?” The look he slanted me held just enough heat to make my boobs stop itching. “If I promised you satisfaction, would you be willing?”

I sighed, feeling my smile stretch toward my ears. “I have a feeling the answer to that one’s always going to be a yes.”

After that nothing could depress me. Not the tennis courts with their cracked surfaces and rotted nets.

Not even the gray pole barn that sat next to them, a rectangular extension sticking out of its side like a malignant tumor. The sign on its door read wirdilling hall, but it reminded me more of an illegal drug dump than a meeting place for clubs and social events. Especially since someone had used roofing paper to repair the spots where storms had torn off parts of the siding. It seemed appropriate for Jack to pause there to pee on an electric pole.

“I wish we were back on your island,” I whispered as we continued into a residential area. “This place blows.”

“I feel the same. But perhaps you will change your mind about Wirdilling once we have”—Vayl paused, gave me his spine-tingling smile—“familiarized ourselves with it.”

“How is it that you can say a totally innocent word and seem to talk dirty?” He shrugged. “I suppose it is one of the talents I learned living in the eighteenth century.” He slid his hand around my back, leaving a trail of awareness that made me feel like I’d just stepped onto the battlement of an impossibly tall castle. I caught my breath as his palm moved down to my hip. It was actual work to distract myself from his touch when he pointed ahead of us with his free hand and said, “Look, we are approaching the house.” He gazed down into my eyes, his own a sparkling green I began to lose myself in. “Shall we make a good memory out of a bad circumstance?” I couldn’t have spoken a clear word if I’d tried. So I just nodded and let him lead me past an open metal gate down a driveway that was more grass than gravel. The home, whose owner had happily vacated for five hundred bucks a week, hunched behind overgrown bushes that nearly hid its narrow front porch, which was supported by three thin beams. Two floor-to-ceiling windows might’ve given living room watchers a view if they hadn’t been blocked by blinds and shrubbery, but the yard had turned bummer-brown, so I called the loss minimal. Bricks of various shades of red tried to provide some architectural interest, but they couldn’t hide the fact that it was just a boring old ranch with a roof that needed replacing in a setting that had seen prettier days. Not much jumped into view at night, but I’d seen the Realtor’s pictures attached to the rental agreement. They, along with satellite shots, had revealed a help-me-I’m-dying neighborhood on the edge of town with this house at its western tip. A thin stand of acacia surrounded it, and beyond that a series of roo-chomped hills led up to the tree-dotted slopes of Mount Tennent.

No surprise, I guess, that Vayl couldn’t make the home’s old lock cooperate. He jerked the key back and forth so violently I said, “You’re about to snap that, you know.”

“The door will not open.”

“I noticed.”

He jerked the key out, looked over his shoulder as if to see whether or not our crew had caught up to us. And then he kicked the door in.

“Vayl!”

“I will replace it before we leave.” He handed me his cane and swept me into his arms, which would’ve been sooo romantic. Except I was also holding a leash and carrying a bag full of lethal over one shoulder.

Plus, I knew my feet would make it through the doorway but my head would bang the frame like an oversized dresser. So, uh, I’ll admit to some flailing on my part before I finally decided to drop the leash.

At which point Jack chased Astral straight into the dining room, Vayl slid us into the house without braining me, and I readjusted my weapons bag. Except I miscalculated my allotted space and ended up hitting him in the jaw. Probably with my sawed off shotgun.

“Shit! I’m sorry! I was just—”

He shook his head. Worked his chin back and forth a couple of times. “It is fine. Just”—he glanced down at me—“do not move. All right?”

“Okay.” I searched his face for bruises, thought I saw a line of purple rise, and just as quickly fall.

“Good thing you’re a quick healer,” I said. “I mean, seeing as you’re with me now. You probably didn’t have to worry about bumps and scrapes with your other girlfriends, huh?” He kicked the door shut, strode past the living room, turned left down the hall, and took another sharp left into the nearest bedroom. He didn’t touch the light switch because we could both see fine in the dark.

“I once took up with a ballerina,” he said as he sank onto the fringe-framed bedspread and pulled the bag off my arm. I heard the clunk as it landed in the big wicker basket at our feet that they probably used for dirty laundry. The cane went next. Smaller clink as he leaned it against the dresser that stood right next to the bed.

“Oh. Ballet. That’s… artistic.”

“She was very flexible.”

“Ah.”

“And incredibly devoted. To dancing. I prefer not to feel like anyone’s plaything.”

“How do I make you feel?”

He lowered his head, his lips so close to mine that his breath whispered into my mouth. “Like a man.” I wasn’t sure how Vayl defined “quickie.” But even with an agreed-upon slam-bam in our future, I was practically writhing in anticipation by the time he’d lifted my T-shirt. When his hands hovered over my abdomen instead of continuing their usual magic, I quit debating whether or not to rip his shirt open (damned buttons!) and said, “What is it?”

He rolled off the bed and turned on the light. “Have you eaten anything odd lately?”

“You mean besides that mysterious sea creature that might’ve been related to the Loch Ness monster in Crindertab’s? No. Why?” I dropped my eyes. Holy shit, I’m covered in bumps! I jumped off the bed.

Pointing to the bedcover I asked, “Have I been bitten by mites and fleas and crap?” As I asked, my midsection began to itch uncontrollably. I jerked my shirt down and scratched until the urge stopped.

Except it didn’t disappear. It moved to my thighs. Then my back. Arms. Behind the neck…

“Jasmine,” Vayl asked grimly, “is the first-aid kit still in your weapons bag?” Half an hour later, fresh from the shower, covered in calamine and a ratty pink robe I’d found in the master-bedroom closet, I stared glumly at Vayl as he sat on one edge of the living room’s plain brown sectional, spinning his cane between his fingers. Too keyed up to join him, I left my spot by the fireplace’s narrow mantel and, followed faithfully by Jack, paced around a block of polished walnut that worked as the room’s centerpiece and its coffee table. The only lovely item in the house, it threatened to scrape my shins every time I turned the corner. Astral stared at me from its center, having taken her place there as if so offended the homeowners hadn’t provided some sort of decoration for it that she’d decided to temporarily volunteer her services.

Why is it that the things I find most beautiful are always the most dangerous?

The table, which would scar an awkward toddler or break an old woman’s hip, was the perfect example. All the demons I’d dealt with were gorgeous. And Vayl, who’d benefited from one of God’s better moods, only had to look at me with those wide, you-touch-my-soul eyes, and I totally forgot that he craved my blood like a junkie needs meth. Could take it too, whenever he wanted, if he ever decided to veer off the civilized track.

“And you have no idea when this began or why?” he asked.

I shrugged. Now that my whole sex-distraction-plan had caved like an old grave I could confess that I’d been possessed. That the rash had to be related. But he’d bolt, leaving me with a single week of heaven to cling to as I tried to keep my head above the massive whirlpool of sewage that was my life.

Unacceptable.

Maybe he won’t—

YES, he will!

Whose voice was in my head now? Mine? Or… “Maybe it’s stress related,” I said, rubbing a knuckle against the sudden pain in my eye. Geez, maybe I should see an optometrist when I got back to the States. “That vacation was doing me a lot of good. We don’t just work, you know. We work our asses off. Lay our lives out there day after day…” Wow, no way could he be buying this bullshit. Could he?

I stared around the room. Two chairs sat at the walnut block’s non-couch corners, extras from the dining table made comfy with tie-on red plaid cushions. Behind them, lining the wall like a mini-kitchen, a series of kiddie appliances in bright pink plastic invited the younger set to come in and play. And what a choice. The fridge, stove, sink, and table came complete with fake pots, pans, food and, quite possibly, dirty dishcloths laced with salmonella.

Good grief, brighten up, will you? You’re not dead yet! Granny May chided me.

Sure thing. Say, I’ll make with the cheery if you step off your porch. Because I’ve never seen you there before and I have to say it’s kinda bugging me.

Silence.

I thought so.

I hunched my shoulders against the intensity of Vayl’s gaze. “Say something,” I demanded.

His eyes narrowed and did that color transformation that usually made my heart go ka-wow! This time it practically stopped. “Jasmine? What is—”

The front door slammed open and Cassandra rushed in, followed closely by Bergman and Cole.

“I’ll build the circle!” Cassandra yelled. She pointed a double-edged short sword I hadn’t realized she owned at Cole and said, “You secure all the entrances. Bergman!”

“Yeah!”

She yanked the chairs to the wall by the fireplace and shoved the walnut block beside them, leaving a clear spot in the center of the room. “Fill Jaz in so she can see if Astral has any ideas.” As Miles nodded and Cassandra dove for the bedroom, Cole paused long enough to say, “Nice getup, Jaz. What are you, the Ghost of Christmas Alcoholic?”

I looked down at the robe, which, okay, maybe it was a little on the Betty Ford Clinic side. But I couldn’t help my lotion-covered legs. Could I?

“What is going on?” Vayl demanded, gripping his cane by the middle like he’d be banging heads with it if he didn’t get some quick answers.

Bergman ticked off the facts on shaking fingers. “Jaz has an unexplained rash. You’re angry about something. And I can’t believe I let Pete convince me not to set up an alarm system.” He began to mimic our supervisor—badly. “It’s not that kind of mission, Miles. All you need to do is bring your phenomenal brain and a few—”

“Bergman!” Vayl’s voice, deep as a roll of thunder, shoved him back on track.

He seesawed his hat until I thought he’d rubbed all the skin off his forehead. Then he said, “Okay. We were just driving away from Crindertab’s when Cassandra’s demon crossed the street behind us. Cole liked the looks of her and slowed down. That’s how we saw. She grabbed one of the old men who’d left at the same time as us. Pulled him right out of his car. I don’t know what she said to him, but when he shook his head she”—Bergman blinked really fast and practically twisted his mouth sideways to force back the tears—“she punched her fist up through the bottom of his jaw and ripped out his tongue.” Vayl let his cane ram the floor. “Evil bitch.”

Bergman nodded, rubbing his hand across his mouth as if to confirm that all his parts were still there.

“Cassandra screamed, and that’s when the demon recognized her and tried to grab her. So Cole backed the Wheezer into her. She went flying and we booked.”

“Wait,” I said, holding up both hands. “You called her Cassandra’s demon. You mean this is the same one she summoned to kill the scumbag farmer who raped her? The demon she broke the contract with over five hundred years ago and has been ducking ever since?” We all looked at Cassandra, who’d stepped into the hall to listen. She gulped. Nodded.

And I thought I had problems.

CHAPTERFIVE

Vayl, an island of calm among three adults running around like they were about to be hit by an asteroid, asked the most pertinent question I’d heard yet. “Where is the demon now?” Bergman said, “Hopefully she’s still rolling on the road in front of the post office.”

“Astral, I want to see that demon. Now.” I snagged the kittybot and threw her into the yard.

Huh, she landed on her feet. Nice. Too bad we can’t lock this door anymore though. We could be toast before that cat figures out what it’s even chasing. Maybe we could block it with, say, a tank?

“You’re sending RAFS into that kind of danger? Already?” I hadn’t thought it possible, but Bergman had turned a paler shade of glue.

“She’s mine now, and it’s her job,” I told him flatly.

I watched his Adam’s apple bob a couple of times and gave him time to nod acceptance before I asked,

“How is it possible for Cassandra’s demon to be here? She wards herself against it every morning.”

“You were supposed to ask Astral that question,” Cassandra snapped as she ran back into the living room, trailing an armful of sheets, her sword held awkwardly out to one side. Since I’d spent some time studying demons I knew what she meant to do with the bedding. Jack suspected a game and grabbed a trailing end. Bergman just thought she’d lost it.

“This is no time to protect our deposit!” he shouted. “If blood gets all over the carpet, let it!” She shook her head. “Start making knots. Rope would be better, but I don’t want to waste time looking in the garage for something they probably don’t have anyway. We need enough to make a circle around all five of us.”

I yanked a knot into a yellow and green striped sheet. Cassandra had already finished one, which my malamute kept picking up and trying to transport into the dining room.

“Jack!” I yelled for the fifth time. “Drop it!”

“I know.” Vayl disappeared into the bedroom. I couldn’t even glance that way now. Not only did I dread seeing the suspicion settle over his face, but my eye hurt every time it wandered Vaylward.

When he came out he was holding a shoe, unfamiliar enough to have come from the same closet that had given up the boozer robe. “Here, Jack. Chew on this for a while.” Jack willingly switched gears, and I smiled my thanks at Vayl, though I glanced away quickly after. If he really began to suspect I was hiding something I’d have to do something crazy to distract him. And I wasn’t sure the world was ready for Jaz’s Sock Puppet Theater.

“Cole!” Cassandra yelled. “You’d better be praying over those locks!”

“I am, I am!” he replied. “Reverend Brendeen would be so proud to know something he taught me stuck!”

Vayl grimaced at the mention of prayers.

I asked, “This is going to hurt, isn’t it? Being shut inside a blessed house, I mean?” Vayl nodded so slightly I wouldn’t have known he’d moved his head if I wasn’t watching for it. “I cannot stay,” he said. “Already my skin begins to scorch. I shall do my best to help from outside.” He came close, his hands painfully gentle on my arms. “We are not finished,” he murmured, his eyes slanting toward the bedroom, coming back to mine full of promises that made my toes curl.

I gave myself a second to catch my breath. But lost it again when he said, “And the next time we speak—there will be no more secrets between us.” He pulled me close, holding me so tight all the air left my lungs in an unladylike, “Oof.” His lips came down on mine almost like an attack, as if he couldn’t believe I’d dare do anything other than stand within his arms and accept the heat of his lips and tongue.

Just before it began to burn he pulled away.

He snatched his cane from its resting place and slammed out the door, leaving me knuckling my eye, staring after him with the good one like I’d never seen a vampire’s back before. Cole came in right after.

He kept looking at me while he and Bergman moved the couch in front of the door, while they prayed, while they helped Cassandra and me finish the knots.

“What?” I finally demanded.

“I’m just trying to decide if I prefer your chest covered in goopy pink lotion or if white would work better. What do you think, Bergman? Is hydrocortisone cleavage more the look Paris would go for this season?”

I dropped my sheet and my eyes at the same time. Nope, I wasn’t hanging out. Not enough there to do much wandering in the first place. But my girls had managed quite a show all the same.

Dammit, Vayl!

I yanked my robe closed and stomped into the bedroom. Jack assumed I’d elevated the level of entertainment and trotted along beside me, still carrying the shoe, his mouth stretching around its edges in what I’d come to call his let’s-party grin.

“Jasmine! The demon could be here any second!” called Cassandra.

“If I’m going to hell, I’m doing it with my underwear on!” I snapped.

Forty-five seconds later we were back. Jack wore a leash. I’d chosen a pair of dark blue jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, my leather coat, and boots. We stepped inside the loop Cassandra had designed using prints and solids and one sheet covered in cute little koalas. Of course, now all you could see was part of an ear or maybe a fuzzy nostril, because we’d placed our knots about every twelve inches. Cassandra walked around the inside of the ring’s edge, murmuring under her breath while Cole and Bergman watched her.

“What’s she saying?” asked Bergman.

“It’s from Deuteronomy,” I told him, wishing I’d brought a double-edged blade like hers. My bolo wasn’t going to do me any good for the work that might be ahead of us. Did I have time to call Raoul?

Naw, my Spirit Guide labored under some strict rules. Which meant he probably wouldn’t be allowed to interfere in a mess like this. Not when Cassandra had willingly entered into the contract with the demon we were arming against to start with.

Not that I blamed her. If I’d been in her shoes, slave to a reeking sleaze like Anastas Ocacio, forced to submit to his perversions, I’d have asked the devil to drag his body over the sharpest rocks on his land too. The fact that she’d been clever enough to find a Haitian holy man to help her protect her soul before the demon could throw it into hell afterward just raised my respect for her.

Bergman’s wide eyes said he was impressed with her as well. He sure didn’t know what to say when demons were coming. “She’s quoting the Bible? Which part exactly?”

“Chapter six, verses four through nine. Do you know them?”

“I’m Jewish. What do you think?”

“Good. You might need them later. They’re a classic incantation against evil, specifically demonic aggression.”

Cole said, “I thought Cassandra worshipped some African god.”

“She might. But if your soul was at risk, wouldn’t you use every tool you had available to save it?”

“Good point.”

“Now listen, we’re just trying to banish the thing because we can’t kill it while it’s on our plane. So, Cole, although I appreciate the sentiment with that Parker-Hale, a sniper rifle is just going to piss her off.

If you can find a blade that slices and dices within the next fifteen seconds, you may have a chance.”

“Shitsuckers!” He slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Bergman! Got anything sharp on both sides in that backpack?”

Bergman stepped away from him. “No.”

“Why are you looking so nervous?”

“We’re about to get soul-raped! Wouldn’t you be?”

Cole lunged at him. “Gimme that pack!”

Bergman dodged to the left, nearly falling out of the circle before regaining his balance and sliding behind the nearest obstacle. Me.

I glanced over my shoulder. “What the hell, Miles?”

“Don’t let him have my pack!” Bergman pleaded. “Natchez gave it to me. He said it was lucky. He had it blessed by a priest and everything!”

“Why would Natchez give you his lucky pack?” I asked.

They’d become pretty good buddies during our mission together in Iran. But no way would one of my brother’s best men give up an edge, even if it was just a psychological one, unless he had a damn good reason.

“It’s part of his down payment.”

I felt my eyebrows hit maximum lift. “For what?”

Cole had reached around me to tug at one of the straps, which caused Bergman to keep hitting me in the back as he said, “His share of the business. When he retires next spring he wants to come in as a partner.

Which was the main reason I took this mission. I figured if I was letting Natch come on board, I should offer you a partnership too. Plus—ow!”

Another couple of blows to the back and now I could feel a headache coming on. “Cole, would you stop it! He doesn’t have a sword!”

“Fine! But if my soul gets eaten I’m haunting you!” He went to Cassandra to see if he could charm her out of her blade, giving me room to turn and face Bergman.

“You want me to be your partner?”

“You and Vayl, if he’s interested,” he said, readjusting his straps. “My four-leaf clover’s inside,” he whispered. “Also Myron Shlotsky’s rabbit’s foot, which he left me in his will.”

“Myron’s dead?”

“No. He just decided to give away all his worldly goods and join a cult.”

“Oh. Well.” We’d voted Myron Most Likely to Marry a Dominatrix in college, so I couldn’t say I was surprised.

Bergman shoved his finger up the bridge of his nose, still in the old habit of adjusting his glasses. He messed with his ball cap to make the gesture look a little less idiotic and said, “Look, I know you probably think I’m a wimp because I said all that stuff about not being scared anymore and really having a life. And I’m trying. But fear is a hard habit to break. It helps to have props.”

“Of course. Like actors.”

“Exactly. And about the partnership? You don’t have to decide right away. Take some time and think about it. I figured, you know, if we survive this whole demon thing, you’d still have to give notice. And then we could talk about how you’d want the business to expand. I’d still be doing research and development, plus some consulting. But you and Vayl and Natchez would obviously be bringing a whole new set of clients to the table.”

What a nice way to say we’d be turning mercenary.

I said, “Okay, I’ll consider it. And thanks. I’m really honored that you’d trust me and Vayl enough to bring us into your business like this.”

Bergman shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot working with you. The main thing is that life’s too short to go solo. And I’m never going to get a girl if I’m working all the time. If I had partners I could take a day off once in a while.”

I nodded. “This is true.” I put a hand out, grabbing on to his arm to steady myself. Geez, when Astral opened her lines it was like transporting into an IMAX movie. The dizzy spell passed as my eyes adjusted to her video feed.

“I can see the demon,” I said. “She’s walking past that pole barn, uh, Wirdilling Hall. And my lips are starting to buzz because this is so weird. It’s like Cole and Cassandra are standing right beside her.” Cole swung a fist. “Did I get her?”

“Nope. She’s about a foot to your right.”

Cole started to set up a front kick, but Cassandra pushed him off balance. “Would you stop?” she hissed. “My soul is at stake!”

“This is all for you!” he insisted. “I’m practicing up so we can kick ass and take names. But without actually saying her name, right?”

I said, “Not unless we want to summon her here. Which we don’t.” I let my vision readjust to the hologram. “She’s wearing a hat so it’s kind of hard to make out her features. There, she’s walking under a streetlamp. Aw, shit.”

“What?” they all asked at once.

“She threw her hat at the lamp and busted it.”

“Of all the things she could’ve done, you’re upset about that?” asked Cole.

“Yeah. Because before the light exploded I saw her face. She’s even prettier than the Magistrate.” CHAPTERSIX

People judge hell’s hierarchy all kinds of ways. But I’ve found the most accurate measure to be by the looks of its inhabitants. You beautiful, you bad. Receive a promotion, get a face-lift. The Magistrate had been one luscious demon, temptation in a Playgirl wrapper. I hadn’t wanted to fight him. That’s a good way to get yourself rolled in flour and deep-fried. But my Spirit Guide, Raoul, had helped make sure the battle was less David-and-Goliath than is usual in those cases. I could still remember the Magistrate snapping his whip at me as I tried to bury my admiration for his sleek perfection. All that considered, Cassandra’s demon scuzzed him out.

“If you didn’t summon her, how’d she get here?” I asked.

She shook her head and shrugged. Demons can’t just pop into our world like we run to the bank. As far as I knew, they had to be called. But then, the rules governing their movements were more intricate than the IRS tax code. Maybe this demon had found a loophole.

Cassandra said, “I anointed my eyes as usual this morning. I’m sure I chanted the prayer of protection correctly. I’ve only been repeating it for over half a millennia.”

“But she’s here,” I murmured, watching the demon stalk around Wirdilling Hall, trying to catch our scent.

“You must have done something different.”

“No, nothing.”

I barely heard her. Something about the way the hellspawn moved, so fluid she seemed nearly boneless, so confident I wondered why any of us should even bother to resist her, reached through Astral’s optics and dug in.

She reminds me of a cougar, I thought as I noted her tawny skin and dark blond braid. She’d dressed to hunt in low-heeled boots, skintight jeans, and a silk top the color of lava that she’d unbuttoned far enough to show the sweat beading between her breasts. The headgear, a brown suede bush hat she’d probably taken off some soul-mangled station owner, completed the look.

Crap. Her head had come up. A sun-bleached old van had pulled into the lot beside Wirdilling Hall’s main entrance. I only recognized its driver by his skinny legs and cowboy boots. It was our entertainer from Crindertab’s, a tanned old dude with a cigarette dangling from his lips and enough hair left on his head to share with three of his baldest buddies. He didn’t see the demon when he went around to the back of the van and began to unload equipment into the hall’s add-on. Didn’t hear her pull his silver-haired partner from her seat and into the shadows. Didn’t even startle when she strode up to him and said in a sex-kitten purr, “I am looking for a dark-skinned woman named Cassandra. Have you seen her?”

He looked the demon up and down, squinted as he blew smoke into her face. “Nope.” She smiled. “I could make your fantasies come true, you know.”

“Doubt it.”

The smile faltered, evened out again. “Anything you like. Anything you can dream of.”

“For a price, right? I ain’t got that kinda pay.”

“I wasn’t talking about money.”

“Neither was I.” He spit the cigarette at her, and she jumped back, giving him time to reach for his belt.

But he was old and unprepared. The knife glinted in Wirdilling Hall’s single streetlight, only half out of its scabbard when she lunged. She grabbed him by both shoulders and tossed him like a scarecrow. He hit an electric post on the opposite side of the street, his back breaking around it like an accordion straw.

She dusted off her hands, straightened her clothes, and began sniffing around the hall again. Within two minutes she was moving toward the house. Astral followed, her padded feet silent on the rain-starved ground.

“Jaz?”

I forced my eyes to Cassandra. “What?”

“You’re shaking.”

I wiped the perspiration off my upper lip. Shit, I just watched her murder two civilians and I still can’t get over how gorgeous she is! How am I gonna function when she’s in the same room?

“Think!” I demanded. “She’s got to be here for a reason. What’s changed in your life since yesterday?” Cassandra started to shake her head; then she pulled back, as if the realization had slapped her. “Oh.”

“What?”

“David asked me to marry him.”

CHAPTERSEVEN

My eardrums started to vibrate, like somebody had just hit a gong right next to my head. I couldn’t believe the curtains weren’t waving like banners, this was so huge! After Dave had lost his wife, I’d given up hoping he’d ever find somebody he could love as much as her. And now? But wait, maybe…

“What did you tell him?” I put both hands behind my back so she wouldn’t see the crossed fingers.

Her eyes wavered. “He wanted me to wait. He wanted to be the one to tell you—”

“Cassandra!”

“I said yes.”

“Aahhh!” We both screamed at the same time and started dancing around like we weren’t about to get our asses thoroughly kicked by high-level evil.

“Um, ladies?” Cole said, tapping me on the shoulder. “Could we act like sorority girls who’ve just made it into Barbie’s Dream House some other time? Cassandra’s got a double-bladed sword. Bergman’s got a lucky pack. And, Jaz, you’ve got your Spirit Eye to protect you. All I have is a new piece of bubble gum, a useless rifle, an even more worthless handgun, and your word that these knotted sheets are going to keep me from falling straight into hell.”

“It’s less a fall than a sidestep. But he has a point,” I told my future sister-in-law.

“Yes, he does,” she agreed. We hugged. Twice.

“Okay,” I said. “Have you been engaged or married anytime since you made the deal?”

“No.” Cassandra winced. “I never remarried after Harith died. There were… other men. Some of them I stayed with their entire lives. But… no. That step always seemed like it would be a lie, somehow.”

“That must be it, then. Something in the fine print of your contract gives her leeway in case you pull a fast one and escape like you did. So the second you enter into a relationship bound by a holy promise, she’s got you.”

Which sucked. Because I knew exactly how Cassandra felt. I’d never dreamed I could find anyone who’d bring out the domestic in me the way Matt had. Never wanted anyone to try. Then Vayl had snuck past my defenses, and now practically all I could think about was the next time I could see him, touch him. If he asked… what would I say? Could we even do marriage, considering the fact that stepping inside a church would set him and his tuxedo on fire?

He’s no good for you, said that voice. I put my hand to my throat, like I could choke it into silence. The laughter behind its next words proved how useless the gesture was. You know I’m right. All he wants is to drain you and leave you dangling from the edge of the bed like some neglected old rag doll.

Keep talking, I whispered inside my own mind. You’re beginning to sound familiar. Not like the echo of my own thoughts after all. More like—

The front door shuddered. Astral’s feed showed me why. The demon had thrown her hat up into the air, giving it time to transform into a razor-edged boomerang before it fell back into her hand and she flung it, hard, at the entrance.

How does she not cut her fingers off?

Granny May, still rocking on her front porch, snapped, You’re wondering about a demon’s digits when her weapon’s on fire? Girl, you should be thanking your lucky stars those prayers are strong enough to keep her from burning the house down.

In fact, the flames that had given the boomerang an eerie bluish orange glow had extinguished the second it had hit the door. Unfortunately, the prayers Cole had shielded it with would only work for so long against a siege, and this bimbo clearly had nowhere else to be. She winged that weapon of hers fifteen or twenty times. Each time she knocked a bigger hole in our defenses.

“She’s going to get in,” I warned my crew.

“But we have the circle,” said Cassandra.

“And Vayl,” Bergman reminded me.

“Yeah, we do.” But the demon had a contract. And I was terrified that nothing we did could prevent her from taking Cassandra’s soul tonight. Even if it meant we lost our own in the fight.

Faces began to dance before my eyes. My old crew, laughing it up after another successful raid. Brad and Olivia. Dellan and Thea. My late sister-in-law, Jessie. And Matt, whose eyes still broke my heart every time I remembered them smiling into mine.

I looked around at the new crew I’d unwillingly collected. Bergman, pale as a bone marrow donee, hugging the straps of his pack like he hoped they’d transform into a jet propulsion unit and fly him outta this mess. Cole, blowing bubbles in such quick succession he’d begun to leave a fine film on his upper lip, getting a better grip on the demon-sticker he’d made by duct-taping two kitchen knives together.

Cassandra, trembling so hard her earrings jingled, but standing tall. No. I’m not losing these people too.

I turned to Cassandra. “Gimme that sword. If I can get her to another plane I can kill her.” Not without a special weapon, snarled that voice. Not mine after all. Not even female.

“Don’t, Jaz!” Cole put both hands on my shoulders just as I grabbed for the sword. “She’ll snap your head off before you can even take two steps outside the circle.” As soon as I touched the weapon in Cassandra’s hands her head fell back.

Shit!

Why couldn’t she time her visions better? In fact, why couldn’t she just go fuzzy where I was concerned like she had with Dave?

A second later she straightened, but her eyes had focused on places nobody else could See. “You are not alone,” she said, dropping her hands from the hilt.

I looked at the sword. Kill her! howled the voice. So familiar. Where had I heard it before? And not long ago either! Take off her head!

I’ll slit my own throat first!

You would never—

Try me. And while you’re at it, tell me who the fuck you are! Silence. Cassandra, maybe tired of watching me struggle, had turned to face Cole.

“Stay away from her. Please. She’s no good for you. Not at all.” Cole lifted his hands from me like he’d been burned. “I’m done with Jaz. That’s my other goal for the mission. I’m definitely going to fall out of love with her this week. You know what? I may already have.”

“No, no, not Jaz. Kyphas. ” She kept shaking her head, her face twisted with such misery that Bergman, who regularly begged people to experience their emotions at least twenty feet away from him, stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. She turned to him and smiled. “Yes, that’s better. That could work.”

As he frowned down at her, Cole and I exchanged puzzled looks. “Who’s Kyphas?” he whispered.

The front door blew across the room, slamming the couch into the wall, leaving a dent our security deposit wouldn’t cover. Cassandra’s demon stepped in, her hat tipped back at a jaunty angle. “That would be me.”

CHAPTEREIGHT

Up close, Kyphas’s aura hit me like a full night of Vayl’s undivided attention. Who knows how I’d have reacted if girls were my thing? Cole sure looked like he was about to drop. Bergman seemed woozy.

The living room itself may have grown red lighting and a Barry White soundtrack. I think the three of us would’ve trotted right out of that circle but for two simultaneous events. Kyphas began to steam, the smoke literally lifting off her golden skin as the prayers Cole had murmured over the windows combined with those Cassandra had enforced around our circle began to take their toll. And Jack started to growl.

If my dog were reduced to a pie chart, fully half would be mush. Give him a treat and he’ll consider following you home. Hell, he’s pals with my dad, and nobody likes him. But the sound coming from his throat lifted the hairs on the back of my neck, his warning clear as science glass. Mess with my mistress and I will rough you up.

I shook my head, feeling the demon’s influence fall away even as Kyphas whipped her hat off, flipped it into boomerang mode, and hefted it at Jack. I stepped in front of him, but there was no need.

Cassandra’s circle held, bouncing the weapon back toward its owner. She ducked, allowing it to hit the window. Another failure, another bounce back into our shield. But it kept flying, and every time it made contact I could See it chipping away at our defenses, black sparks and white shards combining to make a light show my Spirit Eye would never forget.

I said, “We need to destroy that weapon.”

“How are we going to do that without leaving the circle?” asked Bergman.

What do you say when you have no clue? I was reaching back into my memory, trying to recall if everybody else would still be protected if I broke the loop, when another body hurtled through the gaping hole that had once been the front entry.

“Vayl!” I stepped forward, but Cole grabbed my arm, held me back as my sverhamin slammed into the demon. They hit the Fisher Price fridge with a crash that made the whole room shake. The sucker took the impact like a child’s toy should, but the door popped open and rained fake takeout all over the combatants as they rolled away.

Vayl had armored himself in ice, one of the powers he’d lifted off a Chinese vampire who was now mostly vapor. It immediately began to melt, the blessings coating the room surrounding it and attacking like white blood cells on bacteria. He was still better protected than Kyphas, whose skin had begun to bubble while she scratched at his slick coating and screamed her frustration that the boomerang wasn’t working faster.

Vayl swung, hitting her cheekbone so solidly that when her neck snapped sideways I was sure it had broken. But she carried some unseen protections of her own. With her face bruising and her eye swelling shut, she wound up and delivered, knocking a chunk of ice off Vayl’s chin. She followed with a kick to his ribs that threw him to one side.

Jack began to bark. “He’s fine,” I whispered, my hand working nervously on Cassandra’s sword hilt.

“He’s holding his own.”

But the armor was melting fast. Already I could see bare shoulder and the tattered remnants of his pants glaring through at the calf.

Fog had begun to fill the room along with a thin layer of water, heat, and the faint stench of death. It felt like we’d stepped into a swamp. Inside the circle we bounced on the balls of our feet in readiness, though we didn’t know for what. Then the boomerang hit a window and shattered it. Kyphas shouted with triumph as it flew back through the door and banged into our shield. The blisters on her skin began to heal.

“Cassandra, Bergman, start praying,” I said.

As they began the familiar incantation, “ ‘Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD: And thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might,’ ” I gripped the sword with both hands.

Vayl’s entire back was exposed now, wide red stripes appearing over his existing scars where the holy words had begun to burn him. But he kept fighting, clubbing Kyphas with his glacial fists, lifting her so far off the floor I could see chair legs behind her dangling feet.

She reached up, caught the boomerang, and bounced it off the floor. In the seconds it took to return to her hand it transformed again, into a flaming dagger that she sank deep into his side.

My scream, lost in his bellow of pain, worked like a starting gun on Jack. He leaped from the circle. I yanked my hand back, thinking his leash had slipped to my wrist when I’d taken a better grip on Cassandra’s sword. It hadn’t. It had dropped altogether.

Suddenly one of those bits of trivia rushed back to me. The detail you forget the second you answer question twenty-five correctly on your Fiend Lore final. Which is the fact that demons get a kick out of infecting animals. And their favorite critter to smack with the Wicked Crazies is the canine.

As Jack sprinted toward Kyphas, his growl so fierce it brought goose bumps on my arms, I saw her eyes flash a sunspot yellow.

“NO!” I yelled, jumping from the circle.

“Jaz!” Cole’s protest sounded like distant thunder as I swung. She moved just as I hit, protecting her neck by exposing her shoulder. I buried the sword so deep that it lodged in bone.

At the same time Vayl shoved his fist into her sternum. She took the hit full in the chest, the ice melting on contact with a frying hamburger sizzle. Then Jack bit.

Kyphas squealed like a pig at the county fair scramble as the wounds opened and her blood flowed, making Vayl’s pupils flash red.

Jack’s teeth sank deeper in her thigh and he shook , his growls resonating through her skin so deeply I could feel them through the sword hilt.

Damage. Yeah, we could tear her up. Make her fry even. But none of it would pull off the ultimate deed.

I felt my heart twist as I heard Cassandra’s voice, high and shaky behind me, repeating the litany that ought to protect her and my guys.

“ ‘And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.’ ” Powerful binding, especially when combined with our weaponry. But still not enough. We needed more!

“Raoul!” I yelled. “Quit dicking around in happy land, get your ass down here, and help already!” I know, not the language you should use when requesting assistance from the Eldhayr who’s already done you a string of whopping favors. But if he wasn’t in the direct business of forgiveness, I figured it must be a sideline. So I was slightly surprised when he strode through the door wearing the exact expression Albert once reserved for my grounded-for-eternity lectures.

“You do realize you have the mouth of an illiterate homeless thief? And your timing!” He sighed. “Can you even imagine how quiet the last week has been?” he demanded in his slight Spanish accent. “I got actual work done.”

I couldn’t imagine what kind. How do you perform any sort of labor and then gallop to your earthly charge’s rescue without putting a dent in your immaculate black beret or laying a single scuff on the toes of your massive all-weather boots?

“What do you call this?” I demanded as Vayl delivered another skull-cracking blow to Kyphas, who countered with an attack that would’ve punctured a lung if his chest hadn’t been well protected.

Jack, deciding pit bulls had gotten way too much press, had dug in, refusing to release his grip despite desperate shaking on the demon’s part.

Raoul shook his head and raised his sword. I recognized it immediately as the glittering weapon he’d wielded in his fight against Brude, when we’d tried to escape the Domytr’s territory. Raoul hadn’t been so fortunate in that fight. Then again, Brude had stacked the deck. This time I had a feeling the odds were better balanced. Especially when Kyphas’s yellow eyes widened with alarm. She looked around the room and finally her expression said she felt outnumbered.

“Pax,” she said, dropping her dagger to her side as a sign of goodwill. “Get this slavering mongrel off of me.”

Slavering mongrel? I stole a glance at Jack. Okay, I’ll buy the slavering. But— “I’ll have you know that is a purebred malamute gnawing on your thigh.”

“I don’t care! Make him stop!”

“Those aren’t the magic words. But they’ll do.” I grabbed Jack’s collar. “Time to back off the ham bone, buddy.” When he resisted I pulled a little harder, saying, “No more demon for you. Trust me, it’ll give you major indigestion.” With a combination of coaxing and prying I pulled him off Kyphas and shoved him back inside the circle, where Cole made sure he stayed.

I went to Vayl, whose armor had completely melted and who was now quietly bleeding all over the sandy brown area rug. Grabbing a throw blanket off the couch I pressed it against his wound. “You going to be all right?” I murmured as I stared at our uninvited guest.

“As soon as I get out of this house,” he said.

“I’m leaving as well; I think my ass is melting,” said Kyphas as she backed toward the door, her eyes darting all over the room, but always coming back to Raoul. He followed her, stepping slowly, his sword held ready if she decided to make an offensive move.

Vayl didn’t want help rising, but I lent him a hand anyway as Cole asked Kyphas, “What about Cassandra?”

“We have a contract,” she said. “You can fight for her if you wish, but she’s mine. I will always come back for her.”

It was so similar to something Vayl might’ve said to me that I glanced at him. He was glaring at the demon, his teeth practically grinding, though part of that might’ve been from the pain of his wound. Funny how context changes everything. I could see her words made him want to bury her, deep and permanently.

His voice was cold as the icy shell that’d coated him as he said, “Kyphas, have you ever set yourself against a Vampere Trust before?” Her eyes widened as she shook her head, accidentally backing into one of the porch poles before her boot found the single step that took her onto the front lawn. He dropped his arm from my shoulder as he gestured back to the house. “This is my Trust.” He seemed to grow as he stalked after her. To tower within a dark cloud, while she glowed like an ivory carving as he growled. “You will not take Cassandra from my Trust.”

I’d been shopping with my sister, Evie, enough to recognize that weighing-her-options look on Kyphas’s face. Clearly she thought Vayl had offered her a bargain. Get out before further beatings could occur. On the other hand… She shook her head. “I will be back. With allies. And when we come for her, we will be taking the rest of you with us.” She grinned, the curves of her face so perfect that her image would’ve made sculptors weep. Then she turned and ran into the night, her demonic strength taking her out of our vision almost instantly.

CHAPTERNINE

Because the blessings still lingered inside the house, we sat in the backyard, which had been fenced for privacy. Not that anybody lived close enough to wonder about the havoc we’d just caused. We’d chosen Wirdilling’s Hermit Special for a reason. But still, the tall wooden fence. Either the owners like to sunbathe in the nude—doubtful considering how stinking hot it got in the summer—or they figured the fence was a good way to pen their kids in. Considering the wide array of rec equipment dotted around the lawn, including a swing set, a play place with more ladders than slides, and a plastic barn sheltering a trough full of sand, I was voting for use number two.

It seemed ironic to me that the six of us sat around a glass table on comfy woven lawn chairs gazing out onto a patch of grass that Jack was spending equal time sniffing and chewing, while Astral reigned quietly from her perch atop the clothesline pole. We might’ve been preparing to enjoy some shrimp on the barbie. Except the freshly grilled scent was coming off our vamp.

He sat at one end of the table, a towel stuffed against his wound, listening tiredly to Cole, who lounged at the other end bitching about being shanghaied. “You could’ve at least asked us if we wanted to be in your Trust before you made some big public announcement! Now we’re committed. My mom’s going to be so pissed.”

“Must you tell her?” Vayl inquired.

“I tell her everything.”

Bergman, stuck in the middle next to Cassandra and opposite Raoul and me, gaped at him. “She knows you’re a CIA assassin?”

“Well, I might’ve left that part out.”

Vayl checked the towel, decided it wasn’t necessary anymore, folded it neatly, and tucked it under his chair. “Then she need not know this small detail of your life either.”

“Small! Dude, Pete made us all read Jaz’s report on your mission to Greece. Trusts are freaking weird!”

“No, Disa’s Trust was strange.” Vayl paused to think. “All right, in all probability most Vampere Trusts are somewhat bizarre. They are populated by vampires and their human guardians after all. But ours need not be like that. In fact, it is more a technicality anyway. Something I arranged to protect you all within the world in which I walk.”

We stared. Okay, most of us gaped. Because we kept forgetting he wasn’t like us. He’d been around way before you could drive to the hospital to give birth in antiseptic surroundings, aided by a guy with more education than most of the people you knew. He’d been born in a time when women routinely died in childbirth, just like his mom had. And he’d lived to see a day when we’d be shocked to hear of anything close to that. But he’d had to give up the sun, and maybe his soul, to do it.

“Why do we need protection?” I asked. As his avhar , I was the one who’d always get the honest answer. But within a Trust I wasn’t sure what he, as my sverhamin , might require of me. It would be nice to know.

He picked a spot beyond the fence and focused on it, like he could see whole universes moving between the trees. “You understand your own world is not singular. Simply from the perspective of culture, religion, work, hobbies, you move within several different spheres, some of which never touch. Others like me live in your world, but still we are citizens of the Whence, which operates next to your realm, but only sometimes within it. In the Whence, I am Vampere, therefore I am expected to either declare myself Rogue, or stake a territory and create a Trust.”

“Wait a second.” Cole held up his hand. “We’ve got nests all over America and none of them use those names.”

“No,” Vayl agreed, dropping his eyes to meet Cole’s. “But then, they are not Vampere.”

“You mean… there’s another race of vampires?”

“Of course. As you are American and I am Romanian. Or, perhaps more technically correct, as Jasmine is of European descent and Cassandra places her roots in northern Africa. The Vampere hail from a single mother. The Flock from one father.”

“Now I’m confused,” I said. “Only a few of the biggest West Coast nests call themselves the Flock. The rest use other identifiers.”

Vayl nodded. “The Flock is what you would call the central government for those who descend from the Father.”

“So the loners and the smaller gangs…” said Cole.

“Most are still members of the Flock,” Vayl confirmed. “Some maintain independence, of course, as do the Rogues across the ocean. It is, as with anything involving more than a few beings, rather complicated.”

“What’s the difference?” I asked. Looking at it from a purely professional point of view, I hadn’t seen much. I’d killed vamps within the Flock and the Vampere. They all went smoky in the end.

Vayl said, “Beyond what I have outlined, the main distinction between our two cultures lies in the way we turn our chosen ones. As you know, the Vampere take approximately a year. If we rush the process, we risk our own doom. The Flock have found a way to fly over that obstacle. Their turnings nearly always occur the night of the first bite.”

“Seems to me like there’d be a lot more of them than you with that kind of advantage,” said Cole.

“You would think so.” The glitter in Vayl’s eyes said otherwise.

Cole licked his lips. “So what group do you fall into now?”

“I have been Rogue since I left the Trust in Greece. But once Jasmine became my avhar and I her sverhamin , both our status and her vulnerability within the Whence increased. So now I have declared us a Trust.”

“Because Jaz is at risk,” Bergman said, as usual cutting to the heart of the matter. “Why?” Vayl stretched his legs forward until his calves brushed my shins. I kept my eyes on my clasped hands, but I knew he felt the heat rise in my chest as I recalled how he loved to tangle his legs with mine, how he said the smoothness of my skin against his felt better than silk.

I dug my nails into my hands, forcing my mind to follow his words as he said, “Such a partnership is rare for vampires. The bonds that are forged can never be fully broken. And as time passes, the couple begins to form a deep and complex relationship that becomes the envy of their peers. The last to do so successfully—” Vayl pressed his lips together in almost a full grimace.

“What?” I asked. “You can’t just stop in the middle like that!” His eyes, so dark they had no color, revealed thoughts I could only guess at. “Her name was Nylla, and she had been turned in the time of Napoleon. She found her avhar dying of starvation in a POW camp during the Civil War.” He stopped again.

I was so proud I didn’t kick him I promised myself ice cream at the next opportunity. Gritting my teeth I said, “Go on.”

“Like me, she hoped for… something beyond mere experience. I suppose in Tobias she sought”—he shrugged and shook his head—“the missing piece. The bit that should have prevented her from letting her soul slip to begin with.”

“Did she find it?” asked Cassandra.

He nodded. “They both discovered something… new. Something beyond humanity. And yet not Vampere. Because Tobias stopped aging, but he continued to walk in the light. And Nylla ceased hunting, but she did not wither. Eventually they disappeared, as have all successful pairs before them. But their story remains, giving the rest of us”—his eyes touched mine—“hope.”

“That explains a lot,” said Bergman. “But it still doesn’t answer my question.” Vayl’s upper lip lifted. In him it was nearly a snarl. His need to avoid the subject made me want to know

. “Tell the man,” I demanded.

He couldn’t play politician now that I’d put in the request. His eyes bored into mine as he said, “If, for instance, an avhar were to be snatched out of her bed by enemies of her sverhamin . If they were to take her to a dark room, bleed her for days, and then call her sverhamin and make certain demands in return for her safe homecoming, they would have him at their mercy. Because they could be assured he would do anything to get her back. And I do mean anything. I could tell you stories. Perhaps I should. Once a vampire named Henri—”

I didn’t want to hear. So I interrupted, saying, “Vayl. We don’t negotiate with—” He waved away my policy-book quote with an impatient hand. “Do you think I would give a rat’s damn about procedure if I heard you screaming at the other end of the phone?” I bit my bottom lip, not sure how to reply. It was Bergman who asked, “And a Trust protects Jaz from this? How?”

“It brings the power of the Whence onto our side. As a Rogue couple she and I had few rights. But as members of a Trust we are much better armored. Those who would not have hesitated to move against us before will seek easier prey now rather than risk the ire of the Prevailers.” When he saw our puzzled expressions he explained, “The Prevailers are a group of thirteen Elders who rule the Whence.” Good to know.

He pulled his legs back, sat up straighter. “At any rate, Jasmine is safer within the Whence if she can call upon the protection of a Trust. So I began to consider creating one. With the advent of such an excellent circle of work partners, I made the decision to formalize the proceeding.”

“You formalized—without asking any of us?” Cole demanded.

“Why would I do that?” Vayl asked mildly. “It was only a paper organization. Something never meant to touch your world.”

Cole rolled his eyes toward me like, Come on, Jaz, jump in! Why aren’t you as pissed about this as I am? And I was , kinda. Except I had a bigger secret than Vayl’s, so the guilt was outweighing the outrage.

This is a bad way to begin a relationship, said Granny May. She’d dumped the rocker and decided to water the plants that lined her front porch rail. Why don’t you just insult all his relatives while you’re at it?

Reluctantly, I said, “Uh, so if we do have to take this off paper, you know, into the real world? This will be a democratic organization. Right?”

Vayl nodded slowly. “As long as you all understand that I would be the president.” I looked at Cole. “Can you deal with that? Theoretically?”

Cole blew a bubble, making me wonder where he’d found black gum and if it tasted like the same color jelly beans. After it popped and he retrieved it he said, “Only if I can be Secretary of Social Events.” Before I could point out that no cabinet in the world carried that position, Vayl said, “Done.” Cole nodded with satisfaction.

Hey, maybe I should invent myself a cool new office too.

While I pondered the possibilities Raoul said, “As long as we are avoiding the subject we should really be discussing, I’d like to know why Jack keeps looking at me like that.” He sent a curious glance at my dog, who’d trotted back to the table and commandeered a spot between Vayl and me. He panted as he pointed his ears toward my Spirit Guide.

I said, “He thinks you might have a T-bone hidden under that nifty camo jacket of yours. Which looks fresh as a sheltered young virgin, by the way. Don’t you ever sweat?” Raoul chose to ignore me as he leaned over to pet the dog. “Don’t let her teach you bad words,” he said.

“It’s too late,” I snapped. “He swears like a drunken sailor.”

“How do you know how much drunken sailors swear?” asked Vayl, one brow lowering. Not in jealousy. He knew I wouldn’t waste time with anybody who couldn’t walk a straight line. Nope, that expression meant pain, and when I looked I could see his wound was still seeping.

His refusal to sustain himself on fresh blood usually increased my respect for him. Except for now, when his slow heal made me think it was the stupidest damn decision he’d ever made. Especially when all he had to do was put his name on a list and willing donors would line up at his door like Black Friday shoppers.

“Jasmine!” Vayl reached over to shake my arm.

“What?”

“Your focus seems to have shifted.”

“Oh yeah, um, drunken sailors. Well, my dad was a Marine you know. He knew guys.” Cassandra scooted her chair back, causing it to screech along the patio’s surface like a mom who’s had just about enough of her kids’ bratty behavior. We turned to her.

“Did you have something you wanted to say?” asked Vayl.

She nodded graciously. “Yes.” She looked Raoul straight in the eye. “I know I couldn’t have made a worse mistake. But I’ve spent the past five hundred years living the best life I knew how in hopes that it would be enough to save me.” She gulped a little before asking, “Was it?” He shrugged. “I’ve been allowed to come, so you could take that as a good sign. Or maybe someone with more clout than me just wants to make sure Jasmine doesn’t die again.”

“Why?” asked Vayl, his voice deepening. “What happens if she is killed?” Raoul stopped petting Jack and sat up. He avoided my eyes when he spoke, choosing instead to stare straight into Vayl’s. “The human body can only bear so much, even when it has been enhanced to recover from the terrible damage death deals, as I have done for Jasmine twice already. Which is why the next time she dies—she won’t be able to come back.”

Cole sat forward so fast his chest hit the table with a low thud that made us all stare at him. “So you’re saying she’ll be like you? Just spirit material?”

Raoul shrugged. “It’s a little more complicated than that. Sometimes—like now—I can take physical form. But I’m limited by my own strength as to how long the form lasts.” He looked at me then, so I stopped biting my lip, unclenched my fists, and made myself breathe. No sense in showing how deep his little info-bomb had just torn into me. He said, “In my penthouse, when I’m visiting with you, I can take on an even more solid body. But in the place where I fight other sorts of creatures, where I spend most of my time, in fact, physical form is a hindrance.”

Silence, deep and shocked, like when people have really heard about a death. Bergman spoke first.

“Will she live longer, though? With that enhancement you said you gave her?” Raoul made that somebody’s-just-kicked-me-under-the-table face. “I would say yes. She has the potential to live longer than Cassandra. But her chosen lifestyle deeply cuts her odds.” Vayl and I locked gazes. Think of it! his eyes told me. What I have dreamed of! We could gain eternity together, and you would not even have to turn.

I tried to send his hopes back to him. It would, after all, be amazing. But I could barely see past tonight.

Not with Kyphas lusting after our souls and some asswipe entity already in possession of a chunk of mine.

When his brows dropped I looked away. Goddammit, I’m supposed to be the Sensitive here!

“That could be good,” Bergman put in, drawing my eyes from Vayl’s. “Think about it, Jaz. If you and Vayl joined up with me and Natch, you could pick your jobs. Less risk. More chance of that thousand-year mark.”

“What is he talking about?” asked Vayl.

“Yeah, what’s the—” Cole began.

“When did you become a salesman?” I interrupted, hoping to shut Cole down before the discussion got ugly. “I never should’ve introduced you to Dave’s unit. Ever since you hung with those Spec Ops studs you’ve gotten way too big for your shoe box.”

Leave it to the skinny sucker to grin while Vayl repeated his question. Bergman had just begun to explain his offer and the reason Cole wasn’t included—“You just started a new job. No way have you got any money to invest”—when Cassandra stood.

“I have to use the bathroom.” She raised her eyebrows at me.

What? Oh, are we doing that girls-gang-up-in-the-can thing?

I rose. “Me too.”

“Have fun, ladies!” Cole took my chair and scooted it right next to Raoul’s. “So, I was wondering if we could make a deal,” he began as we moved away from the table. “How do you feel about kangaroos?” I looked back at Vayl, but he was immersed in Bergman’s pitch. Jack thought I needed company, though. He got up and padded after me. Even Astral decided we must be up to something interesting.

Avoiding the dog, she ran ahead of Cassandra, somehow guessing to turn down the hall and slide through the doorway opposite my bedroom. She was waiting on the window ledge of the white-tiled, chrome-accessorized bathroom when we finally stepped inside.

Cassandra slid open the navy-blue shower curtain, turned the tub and sink faucets on full blast before taking a seat on the toilet. It had a squishy white lid, so she slowly sank to its base while the animals rearranged. Astral jumped onto Cassandra’s lap. Jack settled down beside me where I stood beside the tub, staring at the towels hanging from round silver rings mounted on the wall. The towels’ multicolored bubbles looked so real, I wanted to poke them to see if they’d actually pop.

She said, “I don’t think Vayl can hear us now, even if he’s trying.” She held up her hand, as if she knew I wanted to protest. Which, of course, I did. When our eyes met I realized we’d reached a new cut-the-bullshit level of understanding. Refreshing. Scary. And weird, because if she went on to join my family she’d be the first relation I ever felt I could really be honest with.

“When I touched you I sensed another presence.” She shuddered. “I don’t know how such malevolence found its way past your defenses, but we have to get it out of you. You can’t imagine how much it’s already controlling you.”

But I could. The rowdy crowd that gave faces to all the facets of my personality had gone into hiding, driven out by its overbearing, I’m-the-king— wait a second. I know that attitude. I know that voice!

No wonder everybody left except Granny May, and she’s afraid to move. Aw shit, I’m in big trouble.

“I’m listening,” I said.

She gripped her hands together so tightly I could see her rings digging into the skin of her fingers. “I know how hard this will be for you. In your mind, trust has to do with money rich people put away for their grandchildren. Or maybe it’s the name of our new community. But now you will have to learn the best meaning of the word.”

I felt myself nod. But already half of me had stopped listening.

Cassandra clapped her hands once, the way she usually does when she’s delighted. I jumped, because this time her eyes were blazing.

“Onkheinem! ” she shouted.

“What the f—!”

“Stay with me, Jaz!” she interrupted. “Don’t let it play on your resistance.”

“What are you saying?”

She leaned forward, gazing earnestly into my eyes. “If any of us tell you something you wouldn’t have wanted to hear in the first place, your possessor uses your natural response to influence your choices, thus gaining it the behavior it wants to see out of you. You must teach yourself to listen, even though you wouldn’t normally wish to. You have to consider what you would once have dismissed.” She took a breath. “Eventually you may have to open your mind and let one of us in.” No! Never!

Like it had been in the beginning, I couldn’t tell if that inner voice was mine or his. But I could tell he wanted me to shove Cassandra out the door, out of my life. Busybody, bitch! he shrilled. Get rid of her!

Now!

I pressed my lips together, the way I sometimes had to so I wouldn’t puke in the bed or the hallway. Just keep it in until you reach a flushable appliance , I’d tell myself. Only this time what I had couldn’t be flushed. I had an awful feeling it would require something a lot more painful. Like a burning. And what would be left afterward? Would it matter if he’d already eaten the best part of me, the same way I’d seen his ghost-subjects cannibalize each other?

I said, “Brude.”

“Who?”

“His name’s King Brude.” I sighed, feeling major muscle groups loosen as I shared the news with somebody who might be able to help. “I ran into him during my last mission. In life he ruled a big patch of Scotland, probably with a bloody sword and a full dungeon. Now he’s a Domytr.” She shook her head. “I’m not familiar—”

“Yeah, I wasn’t either. I’m not sure what all his duties are, but I do know that he chases down stray souls for Lucifer. When I met him he was moonlighting, building his own army of ghosts and his own version of hell in the Thin. One without the rules that make Satan’s place so warm and cozy.” She held up her hand, like I was talking too fast. But it was so hard for me to get the words out I was surprised she wasn’t pounding me on the back to make them come faster. She said, “But the Thin is just a wisp of a place. When I first learned of it I was surprised lost souls ever found themselves caught there it seemed so holey.”

When my eyebrows shot up she added, “Not holy like paradise. You know, like a pair of net stockings.

Really easy to slide a pencil, or a spirit, through.”

“O-kay. Never heard it described that way, though I guess you have a point. Personally, I think they stay because they’re addicted to chaos. And Brude’s a steady supplier.”

“So how did he get stuck on, I mean in, you?”

I shook my head. “Both really apply. He became obsessed pretty much the second we met. As for the

‘in’ part, I’m not so sure.” I dredged up the memories of our confrontations. So few, and yet all of them laced with the greenish red memory of unuttered screams. Which led me to realize that if I ever did lose it, I mean hurtle off the deep end, I would probably never stop howling.

I said, “He brought me over to his territory once. Maybe I got infested with something while I was there.”

“Just walking in his world wouldn’t be enough,” Cassandra said. “Think of the Domytr, himself, like a virus. He can’t get inside you unless—”

“I bit him!” I said, my mind suddenly clearing of everything except the end of that bone-shattering fight between him and Raoul, when I’d finally become desperate enough to stoop to beasty means if that was what it took to get me and my Spirit Guide the hell out of Dodge. Damn! How could I have forgotten?

The big prick with the impenetrable accent, grumbled Granny May. She’d abandoned the porch and now seemed to be sending messages from the mail slot on her front door. Not good. That meant he was making headway again.

Cassandra grasped my sleeve and tugged it. “Pay attention, Jaz, or so help me I’ll shake you, and then you know my visions will make us both sorry.”

I glued my eyes to hers.

“What happened when you bit him?” she asked.

Brude, yanking me away from Raoul’s side, his tattoos writhing against me like living things as our bodies clashed. My seduction, brazen enough to cause him to cast aside the shadow-cape that had been protecting him. And when his armor had cracked, my teeth tearing into his carotid.

“His blood went down my throat. But we were in the Thin. I mean the whole episode started as a dream and ended in Raoul’s penthouse. Although…”

“Tell me.”

“I did come back to myself with a really bad taste in my mouth. And it didn’t go away until I brushed my teeth.”

Cassandra sat back, shook her head like I was some misbehaving child. “You had to bite him.”

“He’d already kicked Raoul’s ass, and you know what a terrific fighter he is.”

“You’re kidding. Raoul?” She said his name with the reverence we all reserved for it. He’d been a ranger in life. And instead of choosing to spend his after life in well-deserved peace he’d decided to go on fighting. Was it any wonder I had to defend him?

I said, “Brude made himself invincible in that time and place.” I thought about it. “Yeah, Raoul could never have slipped under that armor. No guy could’ve. But a girl with a friendly face and sharp teeth was a different story.”

Cassandra dropped her hands to her chin. “All right, we know how he got in. So all we have to figure is how to get him out.”

My lips went dry. “Are we talking… like an exorcism?”

“I don’t know. We should discuss this with the others.”

I began to scratch my forearm. Hard and fast. If I’d had a balloon in my hand it would’ve stuck to the wall by the time I was done. “I don’t—”

“Neither does Brude.”

I sighed. “Okay. Just tell me one thing before this all goes down.”

“Anything,” she promised.

“What’s a bustier?”

Copyright

Copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Rardin

Excerpt from Bitten in Two copyright © 2010 by Jennifer Rardin All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Orbit

Hachette Book Group

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First eBook Edition: October 2009

Orbit is an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Orbit name and logo are trademarks of Little, Brown Book Group Limited.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-0-316-07169-7

This book is for my brothers—I love you all!

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD:

And thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might.

And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.

And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes.

And thou shalt write them upon the posts of thy house, and on thy gates.

—Deuteronomy 6:4–9

Praise for the Jaz Parks series:

“The humor really shines as Rardin’s kick-ass heroine guides readers through her insane life.”

— Romantic Times on One More Bite

Contents

PRAISE FOR THE JAZ PARKS SERIES:

JAZ PARK NOVELS

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

EXTRAS

MEET THE AUTHOR

A PREVIEW OF BITTEN IN TWO