Biting The Bullet

“Please do not kill the reaver tonight, Jasmine.” He pronounced my name Yaz-mee-na, just like Vayl does. “The mahghul may not have come for you, but they will take you if you spill blood in this place this evening.” His gesture invited me to scan the rooftops, but I took a good look at him instead.

He towered over me, his royal-blue turban probably putting him close to six and a half feet tall. His droopy eyes and long nose gave him a despondent air. Kinda like a Persian Eeyore.

“How do you know me?” I demanded, glancing in the direction he’d pointed. Even with my night vision activated I couldn’t see anything moving above us.

“This is my home. It is my business to know who comes and goes here.”

“Actually, in this case, no. It’s not.”

When he smiled his whole face joined in, from the crinkles in his forehead to the curls in his beard. He held out his hand. “My name is Asha Vasta.”

I declined to shake. “How do you know about reavers?”

I found his sigh eerily familiar. It so closely echoed the one Vayl put to use after I’d lost my temper. Usually it was followed by words like “How can you stare through the scope of a rifle for three hours without saying a word and yet, as soon as you hit traffic, begin yelling? Like that. Can you be sure that man is an idiot? Maybe he has low blood sugar. And that woman you just compared to a female dog. Perhaps she just learned her husband is in the hospital and she is rushing to be with him.”

I’m sure the cosmos has a greater purpose for surrounding me with patient people. But mostly it just makes me want to scream. Like now, while I waited for Asha Vasta to get the lead out and make with the explanations. While he pondered his reply I took another look upstairs, past the drab, window-filled walls of an old apartment building. There. A blur of movement out of the corner of my eye, but nothing more concrete. “I’ve never heard of the mahghul,” I said.

“I am not surprised. Though quite ancient, they have been confined by their creator to this land alone.” I thought he was going to go into more detail about the mahghuls’ maker, but he just shook his head sadly. “I am afraid they have found abundant fodder from which to feed and have, therefore, thrived when otherwise they might have perished.”

“So what are they?”

“They are parasitic fiends, seen by humans only when their blood has run. They can smell a murder coming days, sometimes even weeks, before it occurs. They flock to the rooftops, waiting, watching. But more than that. Making the husband think,

My wife has looked at another man

. Making the business partner suspect,

The books are unbalanced because I am being cheated

. Making the daughter believe,

There will never be an end to my misery. I might as well die

.”

“You can’t seriously be telling me some sort of otherworldly ambulance chaser makes people kill each other. Or themselves. Whatever happened to freedom of choice?”

“Certainly their suggestions would never work if people’s minds were not already open. If they were not already willing to listen.” Asha shook his head. “You would not believe how many are.”

I glared up into the darkness. “Why can’t I see them?”

After all, I’m not quite human anymore

. And then, to soothe the savage tear that thought put in my heart,

at least in the ways that don’t matter

.

“It is easier if you know their favorite roosting spots. There. Right at the corner of that roof, where it juts out slightly. Do you see?”

I couldn’t have without the extra visual acuity I’d gained by donating blood, and gaining power, from Vayl. And even then I got more of an impression than an actual photo image. Cat size. Bat wings. Alarming foot speed, aided by four muscular legs accentuated by impressive talons.

“What are those spikes beneath their eyes?” I asked.

“Their most terrifying aspect. In the moments of murder, the mahghul drive the spikes into the brains of both the victim and the murderer, and through them feed off the fury, the terror, all strong emotions such violence invokes. They leave no memory of their own attack. And so they can follow a murderer for years before the authorities put an end to their frenzy.”

“How do you fight them?”

“With you it is always the fight, is it not?”

“How —”

He held up a finger, signaling he hadn’t finished his thought. “Sometimes the best way to win a brawl is never to begin it in the first place.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “People are so good at that.”

“I can see why Raoul chose you.”

I took a step back. “You know Raoul?” I grabbed his shirt and yanked him into the recessed doorway of the nearest store, a bakery that looked like it had been plucked out of the thirties, with bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling and day-old breads displayed in the dusty window. Within seconds I’d pulled my bola and stuck the tip of the blade to the base of his throat. “You’re working for the Magistrate, aren’t you? What’s your plan, huh? Do you really think Raoul gives a shit whether or not one of his peons bites the bullet? He’s got thousands like me.” Well, at least one that I knew of.

Asha’s eyes, colored a sickly green by my night vision, rounded with alarm. “The mahghul,” he whispered. The flap of wings, the scratch of claws on concrete, confirmed his warning. “Jasmine, do not bring this plague upon yourself.”

“What makes you think you’ll be spared?”

“I am Amanha Szeya.”

“What’s that mean?”

“They sucked me dry long ago.”

Chapter Fourteen

I guess Asha and I stood in that darkened doorway another minute before I sheathed my knife and the mahghul retreated. He hadn’t tried to fight. That counted in his favor. So did the long-suffering expression on his face. Mostly, though, it was the thunderous voice in my ears, Raoul’s, shouting, “BACK OFF!” Okay, so I’d pulled a knife on one of the good guys. Did he have to yell?

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I’ve never drawn on an innocent before.”

Asha’s lips drooped into a sad smile. “I cannot remember a time when I was pure. But thank you.”

I rubbed my eyes. Looked to the rooftops and realized the mahghul weren’t just moving. They were gathering. “Hey. That’s Soheil Anvari’s building.”

“Yes.”

“I knew it! The minute I saw her face. She’s going to kill him out of self-defense, isn’t she? Or is he going to beat her to death? Either way, isn’t there something we can do?”

When Asha didn’t immediately answer, I looked him in the eye. He seemed . . . confused. “You are talking about Zarsa and Soheil, are you not?” he asked slowly.

“Yeah.”

“They are very happily married. Deeply in love, in fact, with four wonderful children. Neither would dream of lifting a hand against the other.”

“But I saw her tonight. She was veiled, but I still caught the black eye.”

“Oh, that.” Asha chuckled. “Yes, she was sitting on the floor with her youngest son on her lap, reading a book to him. When she turned the page the picture frightened him. He sat back quickly, knocking his head into her eye. She did not want people to think Soheil had done such a thing, so she went veiled.”

“But, Asha, she

was

miserable. You can’t fake that.”

“Yes, something has happened to change her. Something vile and traumatic. The mahghul have sensed it. I fear she will take her own life.”

I leaned against the glass of the storefront and thought,

Wrong again, Jaz. Grace wasn’t the mole. Asha wasn’t a bad guy. And Soheil wasn’t beating Zarsa. Hey, what do you say we go for four out of four and just assume this whitewash on your demon Mark is going to work forever and ever, amen?

“Why does Zarsa matter so much?” I asked.

“The future she chooses could change the course of this country.”

Oh, is that all?

“Do you want me to go talk to her?”

He regarded me with those basset hound eyes. “I think, perhaps, it would be more helpful if you spoke to Vayl.”

Where have you been?” Vayl wasn’t angry. I could tell by the gleam in his eye. The twitch in his lip. Any other man would’ve danced me across the floor when I walked through the door.

“Scoping out the neighborhood,” I told him. “I didn’t feel comfortable not knowing how to get in and out of here.” I hated lying to him so much that I promised myself I’d do some actual scouting the minute I had time.

“We must talk.” He led me to the sofa.

“Where is everybody?” I asked.

“Cassandra and Bergman are in the kitchen, working on the project I gave them. Cole went with David and his team to scout the Hotel Sraosa in case they need an interpreter. Do not worry, we can talk freely. Bergman has carded the entire house.”

“Did he find any more bugs?”

“No.” Vayl brushed off my question as if it was inconsequential and gestured for me to sit down. “I have exciting news,” he said as he joined me.

“You do?”

He draped one arm over the back of the couch and folded his left leg so he could sit comfortably sideways, facing me. I’d never seen him looking so . . . casual. It gave me the willies.

“Zarsa says my sons are here. In Tehran!”

“She . . . she does? But I thought you were supposed to meet them in America.”

“So did I. And she says they spent time in America. But they are here and she told me she could take me to them!”

“When?”

“After I bring her over.”

I felt like someone had cut open my chest and poured ice water directly onto my heart. “She . . . wants to become a vampire?”

“Yes.”

Cirilai began to burn on my hand. But I didn’t need the ring to warn me how close Vayl stood to disaster. And how none of us who cared for him could avoid the fallout if this backfired.

“How long does something like that take?” I asked.

“The longer the better. Ideally it takes a year. But with the proper preparations we can do it in a week.”

“Have you already, you know, taken her blood?”

“No, not yet.”

“Ah.”

Vayl suddenly seemed to focus. “You do not seem pleased. I thought you would be happy for me.”

“Well, sure. I mean, finding your boys is vital to you. And I want that for you. When nobody has to get hurt in the process.”

“I will not hurt her.”

“Do you mean before or after you kill her?”

“She has asked for this!” he thundered.

Another sure sign Vayl had gone over the edge. He so rarely raised his voice that when he did I jumped in my seat. Now doubly pissed, I didn’t bother to keep the irritation out of my voice when I asked, “Since when does a Seer require such a massive payment for such a small service?”

Vayl jumped to his feet. “This meeting means everything to me!”

I stood too, wishing I was taller so I could go nose to nose with him. “Which is exactly why you’re completely off square! Don’t you think if your boys were in Iran Cassandra would’ve told you?”

“Cassandra is useless! Look at her! She cannot even find the mole!”

Complete silence as we both realized she must have heard us. Vayl stalked out of the house, slamming the door so hard behind him the panes in the side panels broke. The crash of glass brought Bergman to the doorway.

“I’ll get a broom,” he said, heading back into the kitchen.

“Leave it,” I called. “He broke it. He can damn well clean it up.” I trudged after him, thinking,

That went so well, I should become a diplomat. Then they could assign me to some political hotbed like, oh, I don’t know, Iran, and hey, maybe I could get the whole world blown up!

“I’m not going to make any excuses for him,” I said as I walked into the room and caught Cassandra dabbing tears from her eyes with a cloth napkin. “That sucked what he said about you.” I caught her gaze. “Grief can make you crazy, you know?”

She nodded and gave me a crooked smile.

I sat on a stool. It creaked as my butt came down on it. If anything, I’d lost weight in the past few weeks. I kept forgetting to do lunch. But it reminded me of how I’d missed my morning run, and would continue to until we left the country. How the hell did women stay in shape around here?

For a while I just stared at my hands, clasped in front of me as if they alone were praying for an answer.

“Have you ever seen Vayl like this before?” Bergman finally asked me.

I shook my head. “But I haven’t even known him a year. In vampire time that’s like a couple of seconds.” I watched Cassandra absently stroke the Enkyklios. I asked her, “When a person goes to a Seer with a request like Vayl’s, what’s the typical payment?”

“It depends. For the Sisters in my Guild, we request only a contribution to the Enkyklios.”

“You mean, a story.”

“Well, not just any story. One that would add to the knowledge of our world and the creatures that inhabit it.”

“So most of your Sisters have day jobs?”

“Yes. We have found, over time, that to use the Sight for personal gain is a good way to lose it. So we must be careful who benefits from our visions and why.”

“Did you hear what Zarsa wants in return for her visions?” Cassandra and Bergman both nodded. “So what do you make of that? Is she even the real deal?”

Cassandra shrugged. “I can’t say without touching her. And since I met David, that probably won’t work.”

I decided to change the subject. “I met a man tonight. Okay, not a man. Something

other

that snuck right up on me. His name is Asha Vasta and he says he’s Amanha Szeya. He knew my name and Vayl’s, and he knew about Raoul. Frankly, the only reason I let him go was he promised me we’d meet again.” I sighed. “He’s obsessed with Zarsa and I’m not going to be able to let this thing with Vayl go. So we’ll probably be falling over each other in the dark for the next few days while we try to figure out how to stop their idiot plan.”

I felt a sudden, unreasonable surge of anger at my father. It was his fault I’d been given this damned assignment. If not for him, I’d never have known I was capable of stalking my

sverhamin

.

Rein it in, there, Crazy Horse. It’s not really stalking. It’s more just following him to make sure he doesn’t cause himself or anyone else — me, for instance — permanent damage

.

Are you sure?

The inner bitch was at it again, demanding the full truth whether I wanted to face it or not. She leaned over the bar, showing so much cleavage you could’ve planted a shrub down there, and said,

Admit it, toots. The thought of him sinking those lovely fangs into her neck, resting his lips against her velvet skin, drives you nuts. And the idea that he would turn her, link her to him for all time, makes you want to scream. That’s a permanent blood bond, baby. All you’ve got is a measly little ring and the blood equivalent of a couple of one-night stands

.

“Anyway,” I said quickly, “do me a favor and find out what Amanha Szeya is. I’ve gotta go find (

not stalk!

) Vayl.”

Chapter Fifteen

In another life, in another world even, Vayl would’ve been a spectacular teacher. It’s not enough for him to know. The longer we’re together, the more I realize he can’t help himself. He’s got to share what he’s learned. And since I’m usually the only one around, I’m generally the beneficiary, like it or not.

Often it’s been not.

There was the time he decided my table manners lacked a certain, shall we say, appetizing flare.

“Did you just burp?” he asked me one evening as we sat at a table covered in white linen and real silver.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Wine gives me gas. Plus it tastes like road kill. Don’t they serve any beer here? There’s the waiter. I’ll ask him.”

“No! Jasmine . . .” Vayl caught the hand I’d raised and lowered it quickly to the table. “Obviously we need to talk.”

Thus began an intense month of table etiquette lessons and, right along with them, my growing loathing of eating in restaurants. Thanks to Vayl I can fake my way through a seven-course meal alongside an army of French food critics without raising a single suspicion that I can’t wait to run home, throw a burrito in the microwave, stuff it down my throat, and fart my way through an episode of

South Park

.

My latest, and by far most appreciated bout of training, had involved a much more valuable skill. From the start, Vayl believed my Sensitivity would allow me to find and follow vampires. On our last mission he’d proved himself right. I could track reavers too. Presumably, as I developed my abilities, I’d be able to sense and find even more

others

. That’s what I hoped, anyway.

I don’t think he ever believed I’d use my ability on him, at least not in this way. But here I was, stalking (no, no, sneaking — like they taught us to do in spy school) down the streets of Tehran, chasing his scent and hoping it wouldn’t lead me to Zarsa.

It didn’t.

It meandered around for a while, turning back on itself once or twice, making me think he had no particular destination in mind. He was just trying to walk off some steam. I got a great tour of the city, which included some lovely frescoes, a major boulevard that reminded me of downtown Chicago, and a building so ancient I could actually feel the history radiating off its arched doorways and crumbling columns. At last Vayl’s path straightened, headed north.

Our safe house sat on the southwest edge of the city. The longer I followed Vayl’s trail, the more convinced I became that he was traveling toward the café where he and I were supposed to complete our mission the following evening.

“How nice of you to join me,” breathed a voice from behind me.

I whirled. “Vayl! How —”

He regarded me with narrowed eyes as he leaned both hands on his cane. “You are

mine

, Jasmine. When I wish to know where you are, I have only to open my mind.”

After an oh-shit-what-have-I-done moment, I managed to pull myself together. “Yeah, about that. I’ve agreed to look out for your soul, not sit in your closet between your Armani suit and your Gucci shoes. So stop acting all proprietary there, Ricky.” As a fan of the

I Love Lucy

show, he should get the reference.

He put the heel of one hand to his forehead. “I did not mean it that way. Ach, this would be so much easier if you had lived even a hundred years ago. Now everything that comes out of my mouth can be construed as an insult, when I only intend . . . ” He shook his head. “I fear there is no way to explain without further offending you.” He turned away, whipping his cane forward every other step like he was striking at ghosts from his past. I walked after him. The silence spun between us like some sticky web neither of us wanted to touch. But I wanted to look at it even less.

I held my watch out in front of him.

“What?” he asked gruffly.

I pointed to the dial. “Pick a time,” I said.

“Why?”

“Come on, play along.”

Long-suffering sigh. “All right. Midnight.”

I looked at the watch. “Okay, it’s about eight thirty now. So you can say anything you want to me for the next three and a half hours and I promise not to get angry about it.”

“You do?”

“Hey, quit sounding so cynical. You know I always keep my promises.”

“All right, then. You have lovely hair. Red is my favorite color, so I hope you never dye it again, though I know you will.”

“Vayl! That’s not what I meant!”

“Are you angry?”

“No!”

“You sound angry.”

“No. I’m just . . . ”

reeling from a sudden desire to lay a big fat kiss on those luscious lips of yours. When I’m supposed to be pissed. Because you’ve been rejecting me like one of those damn bill-changing machines. Too many bent corners and wrinkles that I just can’t iron smooth. Maybe if I died. Yeah, then you’d definitely chase me all over the freaking countryside. Okay, Jaz. Stop thinking. Because you’re starting to sound really. Really. Whacked.

“Tell me what you meant before,” I said a little desperately.

He shrugged. “It is hard to explain when you have never lived in the world of Vampere, or even in a time when it was all right for people to belong to each other.”

“Try me.”

“An

avhar

is an extension of her

sverhamin

. Not a possession, but a beloved . . . ” He paused, pressed his lips together as if he’d like to take that last word back. He shook his head. “If you cannot understand how dear you are to me by now. How high I hold you in my esteem. How deeply I depend on your insight, your wit, your temper, your

humanity

” — his eyes glittered in the moonlight — “we might as well call this whole relationship off.”

We’d stopped in a residential area. The houses peeked at us over their walls like curious little brothers. I wished I could tap them on the shoulder, ask them if they’d just heard Vayl pour on the praise. It was so out of character, I really felt I needed third-party confirmation.

“So, I’m kind of leading a double life,” I said. “The CIA pays me to be your assistant. But as your

avhar

—”

“You are my partner. My companion. My . . . ” He exhaled, letting the last word die on the breeze of his breath. And I wanted too badly for it to sound like “love” to trust my ears when they told me I was right.

“Cool,” I whispered, allowing myself a moment’s relief. The break I feared hadn’t yet begun. He still cared.

We began walking again. For a few minutes neither one of us spoke. We became just another couple out for an evening’s stroll. In one way we could’ve been ambling down any city street in America. The road to our right was wide and well-paved, lined with lovely green oak trees. The buildings to our left looked to have been built in the seventies of light brown brick. But the streetlights betrayed our location. Most of the cars looked like they’d become classics a decade ago, and while the men who crowded past us wore typical Western clothes, the women — well, they reminded me of really depressed ghosts.

Even that wouldn’t have bothered me. I figured, if they wanted to slip tents over their heads every time they went outdoors, that was their right. But I wished they’d have chosen more vivid colors for the chadors that hid the clothing that would’ve betrayed their real personalities. I wanted to see cloaks in hues like those reflected on the signs above the businesses we passed. Vivid blues, greens, and yellows that grabbed you by the cheeks and shook, like a fat old aunt who hasn’t seen you in years.

What did shake me was the furtive sense of mistrust I felt coming off the people we passed. Not just for us, though we obviously didn’t belong. But for the police, present in surprising numbers on street corners and patrolling on motorcycles. And for one another, as if at any moment someone meant to yank an Uzi out of his backpack and mow down everyone else. It felt as if all the pedestrians had been apprised of the plan and all that remained was for them to get a glimpse of the gun and duck.

I turned to Vayl, trying to form my impressions into words. They shattered when he murmured, “I wonder if my sons are students here.”

Geez, Vayl, why don’t you just slam me on the back of the head with a garbage can? That way I can have the worst mood swing ever. I mean, we can move me from feeling terrific about my job performance and my relationship with you, not to mention being überthankful that I was born an American, to wanting to gouge my eyes out with a couple of grapefruit spoons in, like, two seconds!

I didn’t say a word. I figured he’d already broken glass over my comments earlier this evening. The next step was probably my neck. But apparently he didn’t mind an unresponsive audience, because he charged on. “That would be ironic, would it not? Our cover being their actual purpose for traveling to Tehran? I wonder, as well, if I will recognize them. You know, if something in their eyes will remind me . . . ” He trailed off, his voice husky with emotion.

I wasn’t sure how Zarsa could bring herself to commit such an atrocious act on someone, but I did know I’d never been so pissed in all my life. She’d taken a magnificent creature like Vayl, a vampire who inspired fear and loathing in every corner of criminal society, narrowed in on his single vulnerability, and stabbed.

Well, she hasn’t gotten away with it yet

, I told myself.

And if she thinks she’s going to take advantage of my

sverhamin,

she can just see how much she likes eating supper out of a straw for the next six weeks.

I was half inclined to march right back to Anvari’s and beat the hell out of her right then and there. The mahghul wouldn’t mind, as long as I left her alive. Then I saw them. Just blurs at first, out of the corner of my eye.

“Vayl.” I pointed to the nearest rooftop. “Do you see those?”

“Yes, I do,” he said. “What are they?”

Time for another lie, because I sure couldn’t tell him I’d met somebody who’d filled me in on the backstory while I was spying on him. “I don’t know. Let’s follow them and see where they’re going.”

He might not have agreed, except they were moving in our general direction anyway. The farther we walked, the more we saw, as if an army was gathered somewhere near the heart of the city. At last we came to an enormous plaza. When it was empty, I supposed it stretched the equivalent of three or four blocks, an expanse of gleaming white concrete set in a complicated cylindrical pattern, echoing the rugs the country was famous for. Benches and streetlights marked the edges of the plaza, which abutted high-rise office buildings on three sides that glared down at a collection of restaurants and luxury-item merchants on the other.

A one-way street circled the plaza, giving cars a way to enter and exit the area, but it had been cordoned off for the safety of the two thousand or so men and women who’d congregated there. For what purpose I couldn’t quite guess. They didn’t broadcast the upbeat excitement of a party crowd. They didn’t seem to be in religious mode. I’d place the vibe closer to lynch mob. Which explained the mahghul. And the absence of children. And —

oh shit, we are so in the wrong place at the wrong time

— the gallows.

It stood at one end of the plaza, a long, flat stage like the mobile judges’ stands small towns erect for their parades. Of course there were a few additions you’d never see in Mayberry, including a sturdy crosspiece from which hung two nooses, a couple of trapdoors, as well as an open space under the stage so the audience could see the bodies fall.

I stuck my left hand in my pocket, closed my fist around my engagement ring, glad to have something of Matt’s I could touch. I carry another, less tangible token of his love with me wherever I go as well. But the ring gave me the solid comfort I needed just now. And as I clutched at that collection of gold and jewels, what I remembered was not the day Matt had given it to me, but the day he’d told me about his first job.

We were sitting on the front porch of a plantation house we’d just cleared of predatory vampires and their human guardians, trying to blow the stench of death out of our nostrils as we cleaned our weapons. Our crew of Helsingers, newly formed and just beginning to gel, was scattered among white wicker chairs and matching porch swings. Ten ass-kicking twenty-somethings (with the exception of our two loyal vamps) who’d just given the government their money’s worth.

“I gotta tell you, Jaz,” said Matt as he wiped down his shiny black crossbow. “I had my doubts about your ability to lead a crew like this when I first saw you. Do you fool a lot of people with that sweet little redhead act?”

“Only till she opens her mouth,” said Dave from his perch on the railing.

Appreciative laughter, even from me. I sat back in my chair and slid my gun into its holster. “So what branch of the military were you in?” I asked Matt.

“Is it that obvious?”

I shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. I can tell good training when I see it.”

“I was a SEAL.”

“Why in God’s name would you put yourself through that?” asked Jessie Diskov, who, like me, had come to this job pretty much straight from college. She sat close enough to Dave that, if he concentrated any less on his task and any more on her lovely indigo eyes, he might just end up shooting himself in the leg.

“My mom and dad asked me the very same thing when I gave them the good news,” Matt said. “You want to know what I told them?”

I

sure did. And when Jessie didn’t immediately reply, I thought I was going to have to reveal my more-than-professional interest in the broad-chested young stud with the wicked smile, stellar ass, and bedroom eyes. Finally Jessie decided the vanes on her bolts were all in good enough condition to warrant a division of attention. “Yeah,” she said. “I do.”

Matt glanced at me, smiling a little to see he had my attention, before he replied. “I just said, ‘Some people gotta fight for what’s right. Even when most everybody else thinks it’s wrong.’ ”

Matt would never have allowed that scaffold to stand in

his

country, that was for sure. But this one seemed to have bred all their Matts right out of the population. Or maybe killed them off in previous wars. Because no one protested when a dozen brown-uniformed men climbed the stairs to the stage, escorting the condemned, who were chained hand and foot.

Vayl and I exchanged a look. Knowing I wanted to speak he leaned in close, so no one who stood near the back of the crowd with us could overhear. “Women?” I hissed, clenching my teeth to keep from screaming. “They’re hanging women in the public square?”

Vayl shot me his give-me-a-break look. “Come now, Jasmine. You, of all people, should know that women are capable of some of the most heinous acts imaginable.”

So true. I struggled to control my temper. I’d jumped to conclusions, just because I’d identified with them. Major mistake and one that might, at some point, get me killed. I didn’t even know what they’d done. Maybe they’d killed their kids. In which case, they did deserve to die.

The younger one had begun to cry. The older woman was comforting her.

An officer with so many medals pinned to his chest, if he jumped in a pond he’d probably sink right to the bottom, stepped to the front of the stage and read a proclamation. The crowd reacted with angry murmurs that escalated to shouted demands. I wished Cole was around. I wanted to know the details. Especially when the older prisoner started shouting back.

The uniform standing closest to her slammed her so hard on the side of the head that she slumped to the ground. Cheers from the crowd. The younger woman tried to go to her but was forcibly restrained.

All of this visibly excited the mahghul, which covered every rooftop, signpost and power line around the square. They stood shoulder to shoulder, bouncing up and down on their muscular legs, craning their necks, stretching those long wings with a whispering sort of rasp I couldn’t believe no one else heard.

The uniforms approached the younger woman guardedly, as if she might tear through her bonds and jump into the crowd. She stood absolutely still, and I thought she was going to take it lying down. But just before they pulled the hood over her face, she shouted a name.

“Who’s FarjAd Daei?” I asked.

“I have never heard of him,” said Vayl, who kept up with world movers and shakers even better than I did. The crowd sure had. Many of the men took the time to spit beside their shoes when they heard his name. But a few made a gesture so casual I wouldn’t have noticed if one man, about my age, hadn’t caught my attention. He drew the thumb of his right hand across his thigh, then turned his hand, palm outward, toward the doomed woman. When he caught me staring he nodded once and mouthed the word “Freedom.” I raised my eyebrows at him and he nodded again before melting into the crowd.

The young woman went through the trapdoor with a mahghul draped over her head like a second scarf. Already its comrades had begun to feed off the uniformed men, some of whom watched her body swing while others stared off into the crowd as if this execution had as little to do with their lives as a classic-car auction.

When the second woman dropped, her chador came off. She’d pinned a picture to the white dress she wore underneath. I couldn’t see the details, couldn’t read the bold black captions above and beneath the photo, which covered her entire chest. But those in the crowd who stood closest to her shouted in outrage.

The crowd surged forward, their screams encouraging those behind them to join in, and within seconds the bodies disappeared beneath their tearing hands.

“Time to leave,” Vayl murmured. I could feel his power rising to shield us from watching eyes as he took me by the arm and steered me out of the plaza.

Behind us the rest of the mahghul had joined their brethren, sweeping down on the rioters, shrieking joyfully as they fed on the violence.

Vayl and I didn’t speak as we rushed away from the scene. Within five minutes we arrived at our destination. As soon as we saw the place we reached an unspoken agreement to put the nightmare of the plaza behind us, at least temporarily. Duty called. As usual, it surprised me.

I’d expected the Oasis to present me with a dimly lit throwback to the 1860s. A men only sign on the front door. Cigar smoke so thick you’d have lung cancer by the time you sat down. Dancing girls entertaining the high rollers in the back room.

What I found was a thirty-year-old, white-block two-story building housing an Internet café, with single booths stationed around the perimeter of the room, each holding a PC, most with an avid user glued to the blocky, fifteen-inch monitors. In the middle, tables with red-cushioned chairs invited customers to sit and chat face-to-face, rather than online. Either way, it made no sense to me.

Why would the Wizard, a guy who’d sent a letter to the BBC stating that “America is the infant England should have aborted,” agree to party in a café surrounded by reminders of the very country he despised? Okay, so it’s the World Wide Web. The whole concept of freedom of information is so American it practically square dances

.

We sat down. Since the place had signs in both Farsi and English, we felt free to reveal our foreign natures. At least to some degree. Vayl lapsed into his accent to order us both tea. And when the waiter inquired as to our countries of origin, Vayl told him we were from Romania, attending a family funeral. I didn’t speak at all until the waiter left.

“Nosy, isn’t he?” I whispered.

Vayl’s eyes followed the waiter as he cleared a table across the room. “He could be freelancing for the government. You never know.”

Too true

. “Listen, do you really think we’ve got the right location?” I shared my doubts.

“Perhaps that is why he has never been caught,” my boss replied. “By maintaining continual unpredictability he has evaded the authorities for nearly twenty-five years.”

“I guess,” I said. I badly wanted to study the photograph Dave had given us again. Ask it questions neither one of us could answer.

Vayl nodded his head behind me. “This is a modern building. They actually have public restrooms. Given the rate at which tea passes through the system, I would say our best shot at the Wizard will be any one of the three to five times he goes to the bathroom during his visit here.”

“So you want to set up in there?”

Vayl stood. “I will go check it out.” I watched him leave, wishing oddly that I could stop him.

We shouldn’t be here

, I thought, sitting back and casting my eyes casually around the room, hunting for the source of my unease. As usual, I couldn’t match it with a familiar face or a psychic scent. Couples, most of them under thirty, sat chatting and laughing over bowls of thick soup and plates whose predominant ingredient seemed to be long-grained rice. No threat there. So what the hell?

It’s this whole damn mission. Everything about it’s got me flinching at shadows

. Or maybe it was my double trip to hell that had done it. Either way, I wanted badly to click my heels together three times because, by God, there really was no place like home.

Vayl returned in a reasonable amount of time. “There is a window big enough to crawl through if it comes to that. We are — how do you say — set.”

I smiled thinly as the waiter brought our tea. Vayl began to talk, or rather gush, about Zarsa. And I meant to listen, honest I did. But Raoul chose that moment to drop in. His way of grabbing my attention is to reach into my brain and squeeze until either I tune in or black out. It had taken a while, but I’d finally learned to listen.

“Let me guess,” I said in the mental drawl I reserved only for him, “you were the fifth of eight children and your mother had you all very close together. Am I right?”

CLOSE ENOUGH.

Figures

. “You probably shouldn’t even be talking to me.” I told him about my return trip to hell and gave him my fake Matt theory. When he didn’t immediately reply I said, “So, what do you think? Is he gunning for you?”

MAYBE.

And that’s really as specific as Raoul would probably get at this distance. It wasn’t the ideal way to communicate, but hey, considering we were operating on entirely different planes, I probably came off sounding like a talking mosquito to him.

“Actually, I have a great number of preparations to make this evening,” said Vayl as I snapped back to my reality. Which currently sucked.

“You do?”

“If I am to turn Zarsa without injuring her, I must make sure everything is in order.”

Okay, this is the point where a reasonable (sane?) person would back off. Because clearly this train was headed straight over the cliff and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it. Still. I raised my hands to the table. Was not even slightly surprised to see both of them curled into fists.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘in order’?” I inquired acidly. “Are you doing an HIV test on her before you dig in? Having her line up a nanny in case you goof and leave her children motherless? Is there a liability-free form her hubby has to sign before you can kill the woman he loves and turn her into a creature who will be forced to watch every single person

she

loves die?”

Vayl leaned forward. Shot the word at me like a bullet.

“Stop.”

I met him halfway. Not a smart move for anyone facing a pissed-off vampire. But anger generally puts me beyond smart moves, especially when it comes to Vayl. Knowing he could sense all of my strongest feelings, I wrapped them in a flaming ball and threw them at him with two simple words. “You first.”

Chapter Sixteen

Vayl left me at the door to the Oasis with a mumbled, “I am sure you can find your way home from here,” and disappeared into the night. I watched him go, depressed on every front, including the one where I had to admit he was right about getting back to base. I didn’t even need a map. (One of the perks of my Sensitivity.) What I did need was to talk to somebody who could help me unravel this coil. Usually Vayl was my go-to guy. But since he’d caused the biggest tangle, I was left with little choice. Too dangerous to contact Raoul. Too risky even to talk to Dave. That left the old man.

I pulled out the new stealth-communications device the DOD had issued us before leaving on this mission, stifling a pang of guilt at the pleasure that flashed through me as my fingers caressed the sleek black case. I love technology almost as much as I adore fast cars and strong, mysterious men. I opened the case, took out the trendy new eyeglasses it contained, and put them on. As soon as they settled on my face a robotic arm grew out of the earpiece. Having watched the live-action version before we left, I knew a tiny receiver was blooming from its tip, and within moments the arm would stick it in my ear.

In the meantime, using visual commands to work the menu shining across the top of my lenses, I placed my call. Then I covered my mouth with my hijab so no one could see me having a conversation seemingly with myself.

“Parks residence.”

“Shelby?” I was surprised. Usually, well always, Albert answers the phone. Finding his nurse on the other end of the line was a bad sign. Dammit, I needed to talk to my dad!

“Jaz? Did your work finally track you down?”

Shit, shit, shit. Stop talking right now, Shelby. I do not want to hear what you have to say

. “No.”

Long pause. Big breath on Shelby’s end. “Jaz, your dad’s been in an accident.” When I didn’t immediately reply, he added, “He’s alive. But he’s in critical condition.”

I kept strolling down the street as if part of my head hadn’t just floated off into the stratosphere and my heart hadn’t just burst. I didn’t cry or call out, because that would have brought attention to me, and I was on the job. Such the professional.

Yo, Pete, I didn’t blow it when my dad’s nurse told me he was near to death. Give me a fucking bonus, will ya

?

“What —” I cleared the croak out of my throat. “What happened?”

“He was riding his motorcycle down the street not two blocks from here when a woman hit him from behind. He flew back into her windshield; then he rolled forward onto the pavement. Luckily there was a cop right on the scene. He had somebody pulled over, giving them a traffic ticket. So he nailed the driver right away. Had an ambulance on the spot within three minutes. It probably saved his life.”

“But he’s still bad?”

I could hardly bear the sympathy in Shelby’s voice. I wanted him to growl like Albert. That would make me mad. Then I wouldn’t want to cry. “He’s a sixty-one-year-old diabetic. Admittedly he’s in better shape since I started taking care of him, but he has multiple fractures, including a couple in his back that may be very serious. They won’t know for sure until the swelling goes down. There may also be issues with his kidneys. A young, healthy guy is going to heal up pretty fast. Your dad does have a couple of strikes against him. But he’s also the most stubborn, mule-headed bastard I’ve ever met.”

We laughed. “Me too,” I said.

“If anybody’s going to beat this, it’ll be him,” Shelby assured me.

“Shelby.” I swallowed a sob.

Breathe, Jaz, breathe

. “I can’t come home. I’m overseas.”

“They told me.”

“Have you been in touch with Evie?”

“She’s at the hospital right now.”

“Okay. Tell her I’ll call as soon as I can and I’m sorry I’m not there.”

I’m sorry I’m never there

.

I walked the rest of the way back to the house in a stupor. Since my mind kept shying away from Albert’s situation, all I could think was,

Who am I going to call now? Who’s going to tell me what to do now that the mahghul are stalking Vayl

?

When I got back to base the door was locked. Too tired to retrieve the key from my pocket, I reached through the nonexistent side pane, unlocked it from the inside, and went in. Cassandra and Bergman had moved their research to the living room. They’d taken over the love seat and were nearly bumping heads as they whispered over the Enkyklios. Though the marbles kept moving, forming myriad shapes, the pictures that projected from them made little sense to me, probably because they were so small.

I shucked my shoes, climbed over the back of the couch, and sank down into the cushions, wishing desperately for a comfort I’d never again experience. Still, I pulled my old card deck out of my pocket and ran my thumb across the tops.

Thrum

. What a beautiful sound.

Cassandra came to sit beside me, leaving the Enkyklios to wind down on its own. “What happened?”

“You want the bad news or the worse news?”

That got Bergman’s attention. He eyed the cards. “Maybe you should pick up another habit, Jaz. I heard about these ball bearings —”

“Naw. I think I’m just going to start drinking.”

Long silence while Bergman and Cassandra tried to decide whether or not I was joking. Why does nobody get me? Finally Cassandra said, “Tell us everything.”

So I did. And when I was done, I’ll admit it, I was glad our consultants had come along. No matter what else they contributed to the mission, they didn’t make fun of me when I cried for the dad I barely got along with and only loved because I had no other choice. And they didn’t protest when I declared I was going to stop Vayl’s lame-ass turning-the-Seer scheme if it killed me. Which, to be honest, it very well might. But they didn’t want to help me plan how. They had something else on their minds.

“We think we’ve figured out how to detect the shield,” said Bergman, jerking his thumb toward the Enkyklios with barely checked excitement.

“Yes,” Cassandra agreed. “And it has to do with your acquaintance, the Amanha Szeya.”

I thought of sad-eyed Asha and actually felt some remorse at nosing into his business. But not much. When a guy keeps me from taking out a reaver, he’d better expect some payback. “So, you have a record of his kind?” I asked.

Cassandra nodded. “He is a Nruug Stalker.”

“And what’s a Nruug?” I asked tiredly.

“An

other

who’s abusing his or her Gift.”

I threw up my hands with relief. “So we’re set! I found him outside Zarsa’s house. She’s obviously abusing. He’ll take care of the whole deal.”

“Not necessarily,” cautioned Bergman. “According to some of the histories we saw in the Enkyklios, many Nruug Stalkers won’t step in until after somebody’s actually died. They have that mentality where it’s not a crime until the deed’s done.”

“Well, shit.”

“But you can certainly talk to him,” Cassandra encouraged me. “And when you do” — she and Bergman shared a gleaming look of anticipation — “maybe you can tell him about Bergman’s idea.”

“Well, it started with Cassandra,” Bergman said graciously.

“But Bergman made the leap,” Cassandra added.

I held up my hands. “Okay, enough with the lovefest. I almost liked it better when you two were slamming each other. At least we were more efficient.”

Cassandra nodded to Bergman, who sat forward eagerly, his chapped hands each clutching a bony knee. “We realized the only way to detect a shield of the type we suspect is to use a really finely tuned tracker.” He tried to pause for dramatic effect but was too worried about being yelled at to work it for long. “Like you.”

“But —”

He held up his hands. “I know, you and Cole didn’t feel anything during the card game. But think. Every time Vayl has taken your blood, he’s left some of his power behind and it’s increased your own Sensitivity. The reavers even have a name for it.”

“My Spirit Eye,” I said.

“Exactly. We think if you were able to soup up your Sensitivity again, you might be able to see the mole. Or at least the shield he’s using to hide behind.”

“One problem,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“Vayl’s pissed at me.”

Cassandra shook her head. “We aren’t suggesting you donate any more blood to Vayl. We don’t think he’d take it if you offered, now that he’s fixated on Zarsa. We think you should talk to Asha.”

I slumped so far down the couch my butt hit the edge of the cushion. Oh yeah, this was going to be a blast. Because I was sure whatever exchange they were suggesting involved some major vulnerability on my side. And, frankly, if I had to crack open the shell I’d begun to build the moment I heard about my dad, I would never make it through this mission.

A clatter at the door that led into the apartment from the garage signaled the return of Dave and his crew. I straightened. Pulled myself together. No way in hell would I let Amazon Grace see me looking pitiful and forlorn. She’d get off on it way too much.

They joined us in the living room. Natchez dropped next to Bergman on the love seat. Grace settled by the fireplace with Cam. Dave sat on the couch with Cassandra and me. Jet and Cole took a detour into the kitchen and came out minutes later with drinks for everyone.

“How did it go?” Cassandra asked Dave.

“Pretty well,” he replied. “We’ve got the location scouted and photographed so we can make a mock-up on the second floor and do some run-throughs with Jaz and Vayl later tonight.” I looked around the room, expecting satisfied nods. But they all looked pretty grim and stoic to me.

“What happened?” I demanded, shelving my own bad news until I heard theirs.

“We ran into some trouble,” Dave said. “We’d probably be in jail right now if not for some quick talking on Cole’s part.”

Now the nods came, along with several toasts. Cole accepted them with his usual good-humored grin.

I looked at my recruit and raised my eyebrows. “Well?”

He sauntered over to Cam, held his hand out, received a toothpick and a salute before taking his place center stage. “We’d finished the reconnaissance and were headed back when the police stopped us and herded us into this huge square. They made us join a group of maybe thirty men. I asked an older guy if he knew why we were there, and he told me we were all suspected of inciting a riot that had happened earlier that evening.”

“I think we were there,” I said through lips that had gone numb. “Two women were hung, right?”

Cole nodded in surprise. “That’s what he said.”

“I thought the riot started when the older woman’s chador came off.”

“According to the old man, it was a combination of the picture pinned to her dress and what the people in the crowd were shouting.”

“Tell me.”

Cole scratched his beard as he gnawed at the toothpick, both sure signs of distress. “The picture was of her daughter, who’d been buried to the waist by her uncle and then stoned to death by him and some other male family members for trying to divorce her husband.”

Though Dave’s crew had already heard the story, they still looked sick. As new partakers of this information, Bergman, Cassandra, and I kept looking at each other, not knowing how to react. We had no common ground from which to pull a story that started, “Oh yeah, I had a crazy uncle once who . . . ” Nope. The worst thing my uncle Barney ever did was get so drunk at my cousin Amelia’s wedding he thought he could limbo with the young guys. He threw his back out and missed work for a week.

I tried to comprehend the mind-set that would make the leap from divorce to a death sentence. No dice. My mind, already overloaded, attempted to step out. I felt as if I was watching our impromptu meeting from somewhere near the ceiling. “And the crowd?” I heard myself ask. “What were they yelling?”

“I guess the mother became a dissident after that,” Cole said softly. “They were shouting things like ‘Women Deserve Life,’ and ‘Laws for Women,’ which drove the entertainment seekers crazy. I guess they tore up the bodies pretty badly.”

“Why . . . ” The word didn’t come out right, sounded more like a wail. I coughed. Tried again. “What crime were they convicted of?”

Cole shoved his fingers through his mass of hair. Right now I thought its wild tangles perfectly reflected all our feelings. He said, “The old man told me that she and the younger woman had been executed for fomenting rebellion against the government.”

So. The ladies hadn’t murdered their kids after all.

My mind took me back to that moment at the plaza and drew me a parallel. Big stage. Expectant crowd. A show that made you feel you’d stepped into hell on earth. And in actual hell, the Magistrate putting on his own show. Acting out his own murder scene. Staging my spectacular rescue.

On earth the mahghul had descended like a flock of evil mutant pigeons and fed on the hate, fury, and fear of every single person in that crowd.

The Magistrate was no different. No better than a parasite, he wanted to feed on something that he could only get to while I was in ephemeral mode and rocketing toward Raoul. But what? I had a feeling there was only one way to find out.

But now was not the time. Cole had continued his story, explaining how he’d sweet-talked the old man into faking a heart attack. The resulting diversion allowed them to slip away.

Dave slapped his hands on his thighs. Guy-speak for, “So let’s get on with the stuff we came to do, shall we?” “Cam, have you still got the DVD?”

He nodded. “It’s in my pack.”

“Okay, then, let’s head upstairs and tape off a mock-up of the hotel. If we work quickly enough we can get a couple of run-throughs done before daylight.” He looked at me, playing his part to the hilt. “You guys are gonna have time to do this tonight, right?”

“Sure,” I said enthusiastically. As if I had any idea where Vayl might be at the moment. Or if he’d even be in the mood to pretend we were still working with the Spec Ops folks after the blowup between us.

They turned to go.

“Wait,” I said. They all looked at me. Great. The last thing I wanted was an audience. “Dave, can we talk a second? About family stuff?”

“O-kay.” His tone told me I’d better have a damn good reason for delaying him when he had important work ahead. I led him into the kitchen. Once we were facing each other across the island I dove in.

“Dad’s had an accident. Shelby said a woman hit him while he was riding his cycle and he’s pretty torn up. He’s in intensive care.”

I stood there a full thirty seconds. Waiting for something. Anything. But he didn’t react at all. Except to scratch his neck until I wondered if he was going to make it bleed. Finally he said, “Okay. Let me know if you hear anything else.” And he walked out.

“Wow, that went so well,” I murmured. “I wish I had more bad news for him. Maybe I should call home. See if his storage unit’s burned up. Or if somebody’s stolen his identity.” I squashed the urge to chase after him, shake him until his teeth cracked together, and yell, “What the hell is wrong with you!” He was a grown man with his own well-developed ways of coping. And as the Queen of Denial, it was hardly my place to tell him they weren’t going to help him sleep any better at night.

I entered the living room in time to see Dave clap Cole on the shoulder. “Good work tonight,” he said. “You want to join us?” He jerked his head toward the door at the end of the hallway, which stood open and led to the upstairs apartment.

“Sorry, Dave, I already have plans for him,” I said.

Cole polished his nails on his shirt. “Obviously I’m going to have to start charging more for my services.”

Both men laughed and Dave gave him another slap on the back, which made Cole cough. I waited until I could hear Dave’s footsteps on the floor above us before I said, “Cole, I need you to come with me.” I headed for the front door.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he trailed after me.

I looked over my shoulder, letting him see the steel in my eyes. “Hunting.”

Chapter Seventeen

Cole and I perched on the roof of Anvari’s, peering over its edge at the dimly lit street below. The thin sliver of moon helped not at all as we searched for the tall, gaunt form of Asha Vasta. Or, better yet, the purposeful stride set off by the tiger-carved cane that was unmistakably Vayl. As I explained to Cole, Asha was my quarry, Vayl his.

“You want me to follow the boss?” he’d asked, as if I’d just told him to bait a grizzly with a rib eye while doing an Irish jig through the clover.

“He can feel me,” I explained. “And I’ve got to keep tabs on him. The second he makes contact with Zarsa again I need to know.” He shook his head. “Oh, come on, Cole. You know if he turns her it’s going to be a disaster for everybody involved, especially her kids.”

“Oh, I’ll do it,” he assured me. “I just can’t believe you have the nerve to ask without offering something in return.”

I bit my lip as I recognized the look on his face. This was hardball Cole, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was on his mind. But I had no other choice. “What do you want?”

“A date. With you.” He glared at me, like I was already trying to weasel out of it. “A real one, where you wear a dress and I ogle your butt when you’re not looking.”

I sighed. “Cole —”

He took my hand. “I know you have major reservations about us. And Vayl’s making you crazy. Whatever. Just give me this.” His grin turned evil. “Or I won’t play.”

Well, shit in a stovepipe, Jaz. Now you’re really going to be in a bind. But what choice do you have?

“Okay.” We shook on it. I called him a blackmailer. He told me my ass belonged in a picture frame in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And we decided to look somewhere else for our prey.

Since Vayl was my highest priority, I took Cole back to the Oasis. From there we followed his trail for miles, along wide, well-lit boulevards lined with cypress trees and narrow brick-paved streets where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. We strode past billboards advertising Chanel No. 5 and hand-painted signs of the Statue of Liberty with a skull where her face should be. Our trail took us past high-rises and ruins, soccer stadiums and mosques. The juxtaposition of modern against ancient was so extreme it actually lessened my surprise that the country found it so difficult to plot a middle course toward any goal. Finally we reached the edge of the city, where a dilapidated auction barn packed mostly with sheep, goats, and donkeys sprawled over an area roughly the size of a city block.

We crouched beside the fence of an outdoor pen in which three groups of five or six camels each stood or laid according to their preferences. “Oh my God!” breathed Cole. “This is our chance!”

“What are you talking about?” I whispered as I tried to figure out what Vayl would want with a sheep or goat.

Sacrifice,

my mind whispered. I told it to shut the hell up. Zarsa probably just needed to ride a donkey around the house three or four times as part of some symbolic journey to her new life.

Yeah. Sure

.

“You’ve heard of cow tipping?” asked Cole.

“I’m from the Midwest,” I answered. “What do you think?”

“Well, I’m thinking we put a Middle Eastern twist on it and do some camel tipping tonight!”

“Cole, I hate to burst your bubble, but —” He was already inside the pen. “Cole!” I hissed. “Get back here!”

He rushed over. “You got any advice for me?”

I looked into his sparkling eyes and thought,

Aw, screw it. He wants to believe, let him

. “They’re supposed to be asleep,” I told him. “You see any sleeping camels out there?”

He took a good, hard look. “Yeah.” He nodded excitedly. “A couple. You gonna come help me?”

“No. I’ll stay out here and keep watch. Now, you just tiptoe up to one of those sleeping camels, nice and quiet so you don’t wake him, and give him a hard shove on the shoulder. Basically what happens is he’ll be so startled when he wakes up he’ll fall right over on his side. Cool, huh?”

“Awesome!”

“Now, don’t let him kick you, because he’ll for sure kill you.”

“Do I look that stupid?”

I stared at him until his feet started to shuffle. “Okay, no.”

“Good answer. Now, come on, woman. Some support for the big, brave man going off to have the adventure of his life!”

I shot my fist into the air. “Go for it!”

Cole leaned in. “I was thinking more along the lines of a long, juicy kiss.”

“Before our first date? What kind of girl do you think I am?” We shared a grin, remembering our first meeting and the fact that it had ended with a spectacular lip-lock. One of those spur-of-the-moment things neither of us would have attempted in any other situation.

I watched Cole kick it into stealth mode like an off-duty ninja and had to stifle a giggle. The camels observed him approach with the bored attention of animals who’re too damn tired to give a crap. Only the ones lying down were asleep, but Cole decided a big female standing in the center of the pen was enjoying forty winks. He snuck right up to her, planted his hands on her broad side, and gave her a huge shove.

She swung her head around, looked him right in the eye, and spat in his face.

“Oh, very funny,” he said when he got back to the fence and found me laughing so hard I kept snorting every time I stopped to breathe.

“You have a brand-new stench about you,” I noted, my face beginning to ache from the size of my smile. “What do you call it?”

Though by now his face was clean, he wiped his sleeve across it again. Then he wrinkled his nose. “How about Gagfest?”

“Yeah, I think that describes it pretty well. When we find Vayl, I suggest you stay way behind him.”

“Can we just get out of here?”

“Okay. But I’ll never forget the look on your face. Not as long as I live.”

“Me! What about her?”

“You mean the camel?”

He nodded. “Seriously. I don’t think she even knew she was going to hawk a loogie until it crossed her lips. Did you see her blinking at me with those enormous eyelashes of hers? I’m telling you. She was as surprised as I was.”

I couldn’t help it. Despite the absolute gravity on his face, I let out a hoot of laughter. Within moments Cole had joined me and we stood there, in the middle of one of the most dangerous countries we’d ever entered, tee-heeing like a couple of best girlfriends.

And that was all it took. “Cole, I’ve got it!”

Total bewilderment. “You do?”

“It was what you just said. About the camel? About her not being aware of her own actions? I’ll bet that’s the same deal with the mole! Think about it. Dave can’t imagine who’d betray him. And we haven’t been able to pick anyone out, either. Because the mole

himself

isn’t aware.”

Cole considered my idea. “It makes a lot more sense from a Spec Ops standpoint too,” he finally said, warming up to my theory. “I mean, you might get some treasonous types in the general military population, but once you get into the elite groups, I don’t see it happening. Especially not in this case.”

“So let’s work this out,” I said as we began tracing Vayl’s path back toward town. “The Wizard is a necromancer. How does he get control of one of Dave’s men?”

“Well, I guess he kills one, does his mumbo jumbo, and sends him back to the unit.”

“That’s some amazing power,” I replied. “Every one of them seems pretty vital. I can’t imagine one of them being dead. Except —” The words froze in my throat. I stopped walking. Cole got ahead of me, realized I wasn’t beside him, and came back to stand in front of me. He peered down into my face.

“Jaz? Are you sick?”

I nodded.

Actually, yeah, I’m feeling pretty queasy right about now

. “David’s dead. Or undead. Or, I don’t know, something other than alive,” I whispered. “He told me it happened on a training run. But maybe it didn’t. Maybe that’s just what the Wizard wants him to remember. He sure doesn’t get very choked up about it when he tells the story.”

“What else did he say?”

“That he’s working for Raoul. Only . . . ” I thought back to the conversation we’d had after his first medic had been killed. “He already knew all the details about my visit upstairs. So the Wizard could’ve implanted a false sense of purpose too.” No, wait a minute. The first time Raoul and I had met face-to-face in his high-roller suite in Vegas, I’d asked him if David had come to the same place. But he hadn’t given me a straight answer. He’d said, “In a way.”

Oh man, oh man, oh man. Did something go wrong while Dave’s soul was winging across outer space? Did Raoul have him and somehow . . . I don’t know, lose his grip to the stronger, meaner pull of the Wizard? How does that work anyway? Or — could it really be that Dave was given a choice in the matter and he preferred the Wizard’s work? No. Impossible. There must be some logical explanation.

Honest to God, if I didn’t have to wear a damn hijab I’d have pulled my hair out. I couldn’t imagine a worse possible scenario. Because if I was right. If my brother was the victim of the Wizard — I leaned over, put my hands on my knees as I felt the bile begin to rise — that meant as soon as the son of a bitch was done with him, David would die for good.

Chapter Eighteen

Ask any warden of any prison facility in the world. There’s something about isolation. You think you’re a pretty tough cookie. You think you can take being cut off. Having no one to share your thoughts with. No one to turn to. Until you find yourself curled up in the corner, crying like a baby. I’d gotten close to that once. Losing a fiancé. A sister-in-law. A crew of close, personal friends and the steady support and affection of a twin. Yeah, I had a damn good idea how it felt to be alone. It’ll make you crazy, that’s what.

To say I didn’t relish the thought of facing that prospect ever again in my life was a massive understatement. Along the lines of mentioning that Pamela Anderson’s had some work done. Or that TV news agencies occasionally slant their stories to interest viewers. But as Cole and I trudged toward an ancient temple where my stunned brain could no longer deny that Vayl had probably stopped to do a number on the animal he’d taken from the auction yard, I realized I might just have to walk down that long, empty road again.

What if I’m wrong?

Raoul’s voice came back to me, his words a lot more significant now, especially since he’d spoken them to me in hell.

Nothing is as it seems. Ha! Apparently that included my old reliable Spirit Guide. He’d told me to trust my instincts then, and instead, encouraged by my distracted sverhamin, I’d been ignoring them. The time had come to face the music. Problem was, they were playing a dirge.

Damn, damn, damn. I am so screwed. Because neither Vayl, Pete, nor anyone at the DOD was ever going to believe my new theory. Which went like this.

The Wizard picks the commander of a Spec Ops crew, unbeknownst to the man himself, as his inside guy. Why?

To make sure we come after him.

This, of course, is where I lose my willing audience and any support I might hope to gain from my bosses. And why, if I didn’t play this just right, I could lose my job. Which I love. More than cookies and milk. Or shuffling cards. Or any movie starring Will Smith. No, it’s not even close to that sort of comfort and joy. My work is my life. It’s kept me breathing. Literally.

I gulped back a massive wave of the boo-hoos and went on with my internal hypothesis. It made all the other weird stuff that had happened up to now line up. The fact that, after all these years of batting a total zero, we’d finally found a picture and information leading us straight to the Wizard. Those zombie reavers who just happened to get in the way of the attacking ones, making sure most of us survived to continue with the mission. Even Zarsa’s presence, distracting Vayl from the job so any suspicions the mole’s twin might raise would be ignored. I figured Cassandra’s psychic blowout was just a lucky break for him. I certainly don’t think he’d planned on her coming. But I’m sure if she had kept her senses, he’d have found a way to kill her before she could communicate her findings to anyone.

“That could be the connection,” I murmured.

“What?” asked Cole.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eyes. “I really shouldn’t say. What I’m planning has professional suicide stamped all over it. Believe me, you don’t want to be standing too close when this all goes down.”

Since he’d lost his first career due to his connections with me, Cole had no problem buying my line. Still, he said, “Use me, Jaz. I may be new at this game, but I’m a good agent. I’m also a grown man. Stop feeling like to have to protect me all the time.”

I nodded. Weak, I know. But in the end I couldn’t face being alone again. “Soheil Anvari said he was the caretaker of our building. Now I’m wondering who owns it.”

“Why?” I gave him my theory. “So you think maybe it belongs to the Wizard?” he asked.

I shrugged. “It makes sense to me. How else does he know to put Zarsa in Vayl’s path? Maybe he even had those bugs planted before we got into the house, and that’s why we never saw who put them there.”

“But they were only in the men’s bedroom,” Cole objected.

“Have you forgotten where we are? Why would a guy like the Wizard, a guy who put the X in extremist, give a crap what the women were thinking?” Which made me revise my theory slightly. Zarsa wasn’t meant to distract Vayl from me. I wouldn’t be expected to pull any weight at all. She was just supposed to keep him from focusing on anything that didn’t have to do with the mission. Like, maybe, the pesky little mole-hunt the DOD had sent us on in the first place. At least, he wasn’t supposed to worry about that until after he turned Zarsa, which would definitely be post-hit.

For a second I wondered how innocent Zarsa was in this whole drama. Then I decided I didn’t care and moved on to the main issue. “Why would the Wizard want us to kill him?”

“Maybe he’s got terminal cancer,” Cole murmured as we mounted the temple steps.

“Suicide by cop?” I replied. “Come on, you can do better than that. Think of what he had to do to put this whole deal together. It must have taken months, if not years. So why does the U.S. military’s number-one enemy and the bane of his own people orchestrate this elaborate plan where the end result is his own assassination?”

“Maybe he wants to make himself a martyr. I don’t think his god’s very popular among the civilians. Too creepy-looking. He’s got, like, three heads, you know? And one of them’s a snake. But if the big bad U.S. kills Angra Mainyu’s most loyal fan, maybe there’s some sort of uprising in reaction. Maybe it starts a whole wave of religious fervor and the Wizard gets to be a god like he’s always wanted.”

“That’s a lot of maybes,” I said. But it made more sense than anything else I could come up with on short notice. The Wizard’s top men always filled their we-did-it videos with plenty of preaching after each of their attacks. And they always referred to the Wizard as their god’s mouthpiece. Martyrdom would certainly get him the kind of attention he never had in life.

The temple’s front entrance was lit by torches. I only had to take one look at the twenty-foot-high figures carved along the facade — a parade of rabbits, tigers, and wolves halfway through their transformations into jackals, deer, and badgers — to realize who the temple honored. It was Ako Nogol, goddess of change. Even

her

place of worship had turned out to be too hot for Vayl to handle. He’d left a goat tied to the front door latch. The animal had taken a crap right on the threshold, which I didn’t think Ako Nogol would much appreciate, before settling down for the night with its legs tucked under itself as if the night was too cool for its little hooves.

“Vayl brought the gods a goat,” Cole said.

“Goddess,” I corrected.

“He could’ve at least dressed it up.”

“How do you mean?”

“Pink tutu. Floppy hat with flowers. You know. The usual.” I elbowed him, but it didn’t keep the grin off his face. “Your boyfriend’s completely lost it,” he murmured in my ear, not bothering to keep the delight out of his voice.

“Shut up and follow me,” I growled as I went back down the steps. “He spent some time here.” Not praying. That probably would’ve fried his brain. Meditating maybe. Or chanting some arcane spell. “We’re getting closer.”

We caught up to him about a mile north of the temple. I saw the mahghul first, loping along the elaborately trimmed rooftops, their presence a chilling reminder of how much was at stake. I held Cole back as I recognized the long, purposeful stride of my

sverhamin

ahead of us. “This is where we separate,” I said. Cole nodded. “Just keep an eye on him,” I warned. “He can sense strong emotions, so stay cool. And don’t get cocky. If you lose him, go back to the house and get cracking on that research. I want to know who owns the place by morning. You got your funky glasses on you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Call if something goes wrong. And don’t forget this whole city is the danger zone, okay?”

“Okay! Geesh! Are you sure you don’t have some eggs you need to hatch somewhere?”

“Sorry. Old habits. Still, be careful.”

Exasperated sigh. “Get

out

already!”

I left. By now my feet felt like a couple of cooked meatloaves. I was surprised they weren’t smoking. But I had farther to go, so I went. Clear to the storefront where I’d first met Asha Vasta.

I didn’t expect to find a visual sign of him, so I wasn’t disappointed when the whole street was empty. What I hoped for was a trail, like the one Vayl had left. I stood in the shadows of the bakery’s doorway and opened my mind. Nothing beyond a hint of the reaver I’d allowed to pass unharmed.

“He went to Channel Fourteen,” I murmured. “Gotta remember that.” Right now Uldin Beit’s team was out in force, pretending to be reporters and cameramen, trying to track me down. While I, on the other hand, couldn’t find one large and rather conspicuous looking

other

. Well, if I were him, would I want to be found by a woman who’d held a knife to my throat? Hardly. By golly, I’d be covering my tracks like they used to do in the old Westerns, with a well-branched limb and a roundabout path home.

Wait a minute. The knife!

I pulled the bolo out. Pressed the point, which had touched Asha’s throat, against the tip of my nose. And drank in his scent. With no

others

around to distract me, I was able to mentally tag the unique identifier that surrounded him wherever he went. Call it an aura. Or charisma. The essence that gave a person presence — so even if no one heard or saw them enter a room they still knew they’d been joined — had lingered on the steel of my blade.

“Gotcha,” I breathed. I sheathed the blade. Took another breath. Concentrated, narrowing my eyes to focus the trail, and moved.

Chapter Nineteen

I found Asha at a black-fenced cemetery, the stones of which all laid long and flat like legless benches. I liked the idea. This way there was never any debate about whether or not you were stepping on hallowed ground. He perched on top of a gatepost like a gigantic statue, watching a group of people huddled together inside.

“Were you going for an übercreepy vibe?” I asked as I came up to him. “Because, actually, it’s working. And how do those guys not see you?” I pointed to the group of half a dozen black-suited men gathered around the candlelit, petal-strewn tombstone maybe fifty yards in.

Asha hopped down. “They are too busy with their own business,” he said. “Note the gentleman standing between the two largest candles.”

“I see him. Is he . . . signing?” I looked at Asha. “He’s a medium, isn’t he?” All others who could communicate with the truly dead were deaf. Many were mute as well.

He shook his head. “This word. Medium. Does it mean the same thing as Spirit Bridge?”

“Yup. So is this a séance?”

“Of a sort. These men have just lost their father. And they wish to talk to his spirit to find out why he committed suicide.”

“That seems reasonable. Except you’re here. Which means this particular Bridge isn’t nearly as upright as he seems.”

Asha stared at me like I’d just announced that the city fathers had agreed to allow a Gay Pride parade down the main thoroughfare of Tehran the next morning. “You know what I am?”

Was he pissed? Or just extra depressed? At this point, I didn’t really care. I was here to get what I needed from him and to hell with his feelings. “I have an idea. And I need to talk to you about how, being who you are, maybe you could lend me a hand with a little (huge!) problem I have when you’re done here.”

“All right.” He moved toward the gate. Paused when he realized I hadn’t followed him.

“Aren’t you going to stop this first?”

“What do you mean?”

I could feel my anger rise. Though some clinical part of my brain understood it was closely tied to my worries over whether or not my dad would ever wake up again and if my brother would survive past tomorrow, it still managed to focus purely on Asha. “I thought you were supposed to police the others. Isn’t this guy committing some sort of offense?”

“Yes. In fact, he is telling the men their father’s spirit is here, speaking to him, explaining that he could no longer stand the pain of his cancer and the knowledge that he would soon become a complete invalid.”

“And that’s not true?”

“I doubt it. If the father’s spirit is present, it is howling. Because one of his sons, one of these men, killed him.”

Okay, Jaz. The shaking is not a good sign. Usually that means you’re about to hit something. Or somebody. And you need this dude’s help. So don’t break his nose. At least not until after you get the favour. I really should listen to myself more. I often have good intentions. But when I opened my mouth, the words that came out were “And you’re leaving?”

“Would it be better to reveal the truth? To let these brothers kill their own kin even as the mahghul drink their emotions like the finest wine?” Did I detect a trembling in his voice when he mentioned the murder monsters?

“Are you afraid of the mahghul, Asha?” Pressing his lips together, he turned his back on me. Strode out of the cemetery. I hurried after him, my mounting rage burning my brain like a fever. “So you’re letting a charlatan help a man get away with murder. Wow. I’m so bummed I left my autograph book in America,” I drawled. “I bet you’ve decided to let the whole Vayl/Zarsa travesty play out too, haven’t you? Because you’re afraid to step between them. Scared Vayl will get violent and the mahghul will want to join the party before you can dive for cover.”

“You have no idea what it is like!” he hissed, his pace increasing so much I had to trot to keep up.

“Tell me!” I demanded.

He didn’t. Not right away. We walked until I was so damn tired I just wanted to lie down. Even the gutters began to look inviting. Then he stopped in front of a six-foot-high arched gate painted salmon to match the wall that fronted the two-story house behind it. The house was well enough lit outside that I could see many of its accents, including balcony railings and window trim, also painted salmon, which complemented the natural stucco color of the rest of the place.

Asha keyed open the gate. As I stood on the sidewalk, wondering if I’d just blown my only chance to save this mission, not to mention David, he finally turned to meet my eyes. “Six hundred years ago I was a different creature. I pursued wrongdoers with a singularity of purpose that would allow no deviation from my goal. I dealt with the Nruug as I had been taught by my predecessor.”

When he fell silent I said, “And how was that?”

“Usually a draining of the Gift. Either temporarily, or permanently, depending on the severity of the crime. But sometimes even that was not enough. Sometimes only a Nruug’s death would protect his next victim. You understand this?”

I nodded. Only too well.

“It was during one such battle that a powerful Nruug brought the mahghul against me. He was a sorcerer, steeped in dark powers, and his influence had spread over the land like a poisonous cloud. I killed him. But the mahghul remained even after the battle, covering me like a blanket. Their fangs sank into the skin of my back, my legs, my chest, even my skull. I imagined I could feel their tongues like probes inside my brain, sucking out every last emotion until, when they finally left me, nothing remained. I lay like a husk for days. Perhaps I would even have died, but an old couple found me and took me in.”

He gazed at me with his forlorn eyes and asked, “Do you know what it is to feel nothing? I did not miss so much the anger or the hate. But I found I could barely move without the hope.”

“You’re moving now.”

“Yes,” he said, almost eagerly. “Eventually I realized the Council of Five must soon replace me. All I had to do was write the names of the Nruug in a book for the next Amanha Szeya. He will be filled with the passion I have lost. He will fight the mahghul and win.”

Oh, for chrissake. I need a nuclear reactor and what do I get? A dead battery.

“When’s he coming?” I asked.

“Soon,” Asha replied.

I shifted on my feet, which badly wanted a hot bath and a massage. “Can you get any more specific than that?”

“Only a year. Perhaps two at the most.”

That is it! “I haven’t even got a day! Now, you listen to me. I’m already pissed that I allowed you to talk me out of taking down that reaver when he was vulnerable and carrying around five of his buddies in his head. I’m still seriously considering dragging your ass back to the cemetery so we can nail that murderer, because two wrongs do not make a right, and frankly, I’ve done nothing right since I hopped the plane for this country. Though I should, I’m not going to ask you to pull Zarsa off Vayl. I can take care of him myself. But I am going to stand here, right in your face, and call you a fucking pussy!”

Oh boy, did that bring the blood to his face. Apparently the mahghul hadn’t drained Asha of all his emotions. I raced on, so enraged by his lack of action and my own bottomless well of shit that I didn’t give a crap how he reacted to what I said. “Your job is to protect people from others who abuse their powers and you are failing miserably!”

He started to speak, but I held up my hand. “Don’t even try to make excuses. I don’t give a damn what the mahghul did to you. The Council of Five didn’t send someone to replace you after that battle, did they?”

He shook his head.

“So there was nobody else. In fact, there’s been nobody since. You’re it, Asha. You’re all that stands between innocent people and criminal others in this city. And all you’ve done for the last — how long?”

“One hundred years,” he murmured.

“Oh my God, for the last century your only effort on the people’s behalf has been to write the bad guys’ names in a book? No wonder the place is a cesspool! You know, I came to ask for your help. You’re a Power, and I was hoping you’d share just a little of it with me. Just enough so I could do my job, stop a guy who’s killed hundreds of your people and mine, and hopefully save my brother’s life in the process.”

I paused. Had to. The tears that crouched at the back of my throat, waiting for me to consider the men in my family, had to be swallowed. When I’d gulped them down, and then taken a second to marvel that Asha hadn’t slammed his gate in my face but stood rooted to the sidewalk, his mournful eyes glued to mine, I said, “But I can see that’s a waste of time. You decided a long time ago just to sit on your power like a gigantic ostrich, bury your head in the sand, and wait for somebody else to show up to do the hard work.”

The sound of squealing tires distracted me. I turned to look as a van hurtled onto the street. Though it was still maybe five blocks away, the light reflecting off the satellite dish attached to its roof revealed its identity. I’d bet my next pay check when it pulled up to Asha’s gate the sticker on the side would translate to Channel Fourteen.

As soon as I saw the van I felt an ache between my shoulder blades. Confirmation that the vehicle contained one, if not all, of the reavers. How had they found me?

I looked at my watch. “Shit! It’s a new day!” I slapped my hand to my forehead, as if that could cover up the Mark. I felt my arm for the syringe of holy water I usually kept there. But it was gone. I’d given the sheath to Cole to feed his oral fixation and had stored the syringe back in my weapons case.

“What is happening?” asked Asha. His eyes had moved from the van to the rooftops and gone as round as campaign buttons. The mahghul were gathering.

“The reavers are coming for me. Remember that one you wouldn’t let me kill?”

Asha nodded, wincing at the bite of my tone.

“Well, his sponsor is a mortal enemy of mine who found him a bunch of willing bodies working at a local TV station. Now he’s dumped the demons he was carrying in his head into those bodies, and at least a few of them are in that van.” I took a second to think. No way could I fight off the reavers if, indeed, all six of them had piled into the van for this showdown. I was about five miles from home base, so no time to run for cover. Cirilai would’ve told Vayl I was in trouble, but he’d never get here in time to help. And Asha. Well, we’d already established his status.

I turned to him. “Do you have a car?” I asked, as I looked over my shoulder. They were two blocks away now. I could see reavers in the driver and passenger seats as well as one glaring out the front window between them.

“A car? Yes. But . . . I rarely drive it. I mean —”

“Good.” I pushed him inside the gate, slammed it shut, and barred it from the inside. “I need it.”

We ran around to the back of the house. Asha opened the garage door while I pulled Grief. I thumbed off the safety as I heard the van screech to a halt in front of the house.

“In here,” Asha whispered. I followed him into the garage and stifled a whistle as he opened the driver’s side door of a black BMW 3.

Sweet. He handed me the keys, shielding his face from me as we made the transfer. Still, I caught the glint of tears on his cheeks. Aw, for — are you kidding me? The guy could probably kick my ass into the Persian Gulf while juggling the reavers with three fingers if he wanted to. But I’d called him a name and made him cry. And now I felt bad. Because the truth is I do have a big mouth that I absolutely need to learn to keep shut, and he did have an excellent reason for avoiding the mahghul. I was just so desperate, at this point I’d smack the angel Gabriel upside the head if I thought it would make him mad enough to get down here and yell at me for three days. Because sometime within that span I’d need backup, he’d be there, and voilà. Problem solved.

I slipped into the driver’s seat and closed the door. Asha reached through the open window and poked the remote attached to the visor. The back gate began to roll open. I started the car. “I’m sorry, Asha. I was a real shit to you back there, and here you are, lending me your wheels.”

He leaned down, his sad eyes nearly level with mine. We couldn’t hear the reavers, but they were coming. My back muscles spasmed, as if at any moment they expected the reavers to jump up from the rear seat, rake the meat off my spine, and yank out my still-beating heart.

Asha wiped the tears off his face with both hands. “Here,” he said gently. “Take them.” He cupped my cheeks. I sucked in my breath as the moisture burned into my skin.

“Asha.”

“Now go!”

He made a commanding motion and of its own accord my foot slammed the accelerator.

Chapter Twenty

I believe in miracles. E.J.’s my main proof. I can’t look into those wide green eyes, feel those perfect little fingers wrapped around mine, realize this complete little girl with her own personality, made of my sister and her husband and a little bit of me, shares my world, without knowing our family recently experienced a miracle. That’s a biggie. Sometimes God throws me small ones too. Like the fact that I didn’t crash Asha’s BMW as I took a sharp right coming onto the road out of his back gate despite the fact that most of my attention was on the rear view mirror.

Four reavers had come after me. Two of them ran after the car. One actually jumped onto the trunk, but flew off as soon as I turned the corner. The other two had entered the garage to confront Asha, and I felt my chest tighten with fear for him. I’d just decided to turn the car around when I saw the reavers fly out of the garage and the door thump down. Then I was on the street, wailing down the asphalt like a bank robber, heading back to base through choppily lit, third-world-looking neighbourhoods on roads that were often so narrow I wasn’t sure how vehicles passed each other during the day.

I’d made it maybe halfway back when the TV van caught up with me.

It tried to ram me in the rear end, but I gunned the engine and pulled far enough ahead to wonder if I was giving them too good of a shot at my back tires. I took the next left before I could find out, watched the van nearly roll in its attempt to follow me, and decided a zigzag course might be the best way to keep them from flattening any part of Asha’s ride.

As we raced through the eerily quiet streets of the city, I debated whether or not to call the team. I’d put it off because, although I knew the Wizard would want them to defend me from the reavers and would, therefore, let Dave help me, I didn’t want any of them hurt because of me. More important, I didn’t want the local authorities to get wind of our operation. Something they were bound to do if the neighbors heard gunshots.

I slammed the brakes, spun the wheel hard to the left, accelerated almost before I straightened out again. Behind me the van’s tires squealed in protest and a glance in the mirror showed me reavers being thrown around the interior like balls in a batting cage.

“Dammit, would you monsters wreck already?” I headed down a narrow alleyway, watched the van throw sparks as it squeezed past the buildings that flanked it. “I need Vayl. Come on, Cirilai.” I rubbed the ring against my thigh like it was Aladdin’s lamp and if I wished hard enough Vayl would just waft out of one of the rubies, sink onto the seat beside me, and calm me with that ultracool demeanor of his even as he and I worked out our battle plan.

Vayl was out, though. The closer I got to the house, the surer I was of that fact. “Shit! Why didn’t I tell Cole to chew on his own holster? Then I’d still have that holy water on me and this Beemer and I could’ve disappeared into the city like a couple of street tramps.”

As soon as I said the words “holy water” I got an idea. At the next intersection I swung the car back toward the temple.

The van dogged me all the way there. But it didn’t attempt any more quick turns. And it didn’t run up on my bumper, for which I was grateful. If I trash another car this early in the year, I kind of thought Pete would have a heart attack.

I drove right up to the steps, dove out the passenger door, and raced to the temple’s huge entryway. The goat raised its head with interest as I stopped at the threshold.

The van screeched to a halt and reavers piled out like it was on fire. The mahghul crowded onto its roof and the adjoining satellite dish, watching eagerly as the four of them came at me.

I stepped inside the temple. They stopped on the other side of the door, prohibited from attacking me, as I’d hoped, by the sanctity of the place. At a temporary impasse, we stared each other down.

The original reaver, who was no longer slapping imaginary flies, had found himself some real winners to help him take me out. Beside him, panting like he’d just run to the top of the Sears Tower, was a sweaty, fat man who reminded me of a puffy Jason Alexander. He leaned hard against his neighbor, a tiny old dude who barely looked capable of holding himself up, much less a creature six times his size. The fourth reaver was so thin you could actually see his skull through his skin.

But though they looked pathetic, underestimating these creatures would be a huge mistake. I could still see their shields, framing each of them in black. And every one of them stared at me from a third eyeball centered in the middle of their foreheads.

“Where’s the rest of the gang?” I asked the original.

“Somebody had to stay back at the station,” he said. “We’re a twenty-four-hour-a-day operation, so you know what that means.”

“I do?”

He grinned, his spiked tongue wagging out of his mouth like a bird dog’s. “That means we can wait you out, lambie pie. As long as it takes. Eventually you’ll have to leave here. And then we’ll have your heart. And your soul.” His three amigos giggled. They reminded me of the hyenas in Disney’s

Lion King

. You’re laughing with them on the outside, but inside you know those sons of bitches mean to eat your favorite cubs and it makes you want to puke.

Ignoring a sudden urge to run to the bathroom and heave into the toilet, I said, “What’s your name, Reaver?”

He smiled graciously, his three eyes blinking at a steady, four-second beat, as if he had a timer attached to his eyelids. “You can call me Prentiss Cairo.”

“Well, P.C., here’s the thing,” I said, flavoring my voice with enough camaraderie that he looked puzzled. “You can take the Magistrate every single one of my organs, tie up my soul with a pretty pink bow, and he’s still not gonna pat your fanny and send you to the showers with a bonus.”

When they all looked at each other with the confusion you often see on guys’ faces when women start discussing the pros and cons of home hair tinting, I decided to be blunt and hope to God I’d guessed right in forcing this confrontation.

“Have you boys been in touch with the boss recently? You remember him, don’tcha? Pretty boy hauling around a pound of Uldin Beit’s flesh? The reason I ask is,

I

have. And I can guarantee there’s been a change in plan. Your sponsor, Samos, may still want me dead. And I’m sure Uldin Beit hasn’t changed her mind. But the Magistrate has developed a whole new strategy where I’m concerned. And he is the guy with the whip, after all.”

The four of them huddled, all of them talking at once. “I

told

you we should have checked in when we hit this plane!” whined the Jason Alexander clone.

“She’s lying!” declared the old man.

“If we mess this up he’s going to kick the crap out of us,” declared the skinny guy.

“Shut up!” yelled Prentiss, glaring at me over his shoulder. I shrugged, gave him a hey-it’s-not-my-fault-you-can’t-control-your-stooges look, and stuck my hands in my pockets. The left brushed past my engagement ring. Instant comfort, as if Matt was standing beside me, his hand on my shoulder, his whisper warm in my ear. “You’re doing great, Jaz. I’m proud of you.”

The other slipped over the hilt of my bolo. The mahghul stirred with excitement as my hand wrapped around the handle. Gave it a slight pull. Several of them dropped off the van. Crept up behind the reavers.

“So what do you say, P.C.?” I inquired, resolutely ignoring the mahghul. “You want to kill me and put yourself so deep in the Magistrate’s doghouse, instead of souls, you’ll be chasing cockroaches for the next couple of hundred years? Or do you want to make a deal?”

Prentiss narrowed all three of his eyes. Eeeww, freaky. “What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “Leave me to the Magistrate. I get to survive another day. Uldin Beit gets what she wants in the long run. And you guys don’t get your asses reamed by the bossman. Seems like a win-win to me.”

New huddle, much whispering accompanied by a few violent gestures compliments of Prentiss and the old fart. A few moments later they faced me, united and decided. “We’ll do it,” said the old guy. He held out his hand, expecting me to shake on it. Which was when I realized I was screwed.

I know a little bit about dealing with the devil. Or, at least, his minions. The CIA presents a whole course on it. People in our line of work, well, we get tempted. A lot. Rails and sates, adversaries and siordents, they’ve all been known to throw our agents an offer they couldn’t resist. So, in order to make sure none of us rookies got dragged off to never-ever-laugh like the famous Drew Telast, who’d thought it worth risking his soul to get the dirt on Premier Khordikov, the Agency had organized a class. As a result, I knew no servant of the Great Taker would ever make a bargain with a simple handshake. If he’d really meant to seal the deal, both of us would’ve had to get bloody.

I stared at the outstretched hand. Wished I had just one ally guarding my back. Then realized I had an entire temple.

I stepped forward, shoved my palm into Old Fart’s, and grabbed hard with the other hand as well. Throwing all my weight backward, I swung him around and through the doorway. He screamed as he burst into flame —

whoosh

— as if he’d been dipped in lighter fluid and thrown into a bonfire.

“Sarif!” screamed the anorexic guy, momentarily stunned into stillness as his comrades attacked.

With no time to draw my gun and fiddle with the safety, I went for my knife. It felt heavy in my hand, which was when I realized a mahghul had wrapped itself around my forearm like a giant sloth. My skin burned where it had bitten me. I tried to shake it off, but only succeeded in making it latch on tighter.

Fine

, I thought, the rage rising in me.

I’ll take care of you later, you little bastard. And if I torture you some first, just think of it as payback.

The part of my mind that had gained extra protection when my Sensitivity first kicked in understood that my thoughts were no longer quite my own. The mahghul was ratcheting up my killing instinct even as it ate my fury. But I didn’t have time to concern myself with petty details right now. Prentiss and the fat reaver were charging me. Though the mahghul on their backs slowed them some, they still came faster than humans, and only my training allowed me to shove the bolo through Fat Guy’s third eye before spinning clear of P.C.

I threw a kick at Skinny Dude’s head before he could completely recover. His shield protected him well enough that it only staggered him, but that gave me time to draw Grief. I shot twice at Prentiss, missing the sweet spot both times.

“Shit!” Now mahghul weighed down both my legs. I felt teeth in the small of my back as well. I wanted to shoot them. But this was no time to waste ammunition.

The reavers looked like mutants as they moved toward me, so completely had they been overtaken by the murder monsters. The sight made me feel slightly crazed. I felt as if the mahghul were stealing something vital from me by draining my victims. The pleasure of the kill? The delight of seeing real fear in their eyes? Suddenly shooting the reavers seemed too quick. I wanted them to die more slowly. So I could enjoy it.

I slapped myself across the face. “Get a grip, ya loon!” I aimed Grief at Skinny Dude. Shot him almost point-blank. He went down hard, disappearing beneath the writhing forms of the mahghul like a prey fish caught inside the net of a piranha feeding frenzy.

Prentiss punched me in the chest so hard I thought for a second my heart had stopped. I staggered backward, hit the frame of the temple’s doorway, and spun on into the building. A chorus of screams rose from the mahghul, nearly deafening me. They pulled away, smoke rising from their skins as they ran out of the temple. The last one didn’t make it in time. He didn’t burn like the reaver. He exploded.

I covered my face with my hands, and when I raised it again, realized it was the only part of me not covered in gore. If I’d been in my right mind just then, I might have lost it completely. But the mahghul had drained so much of my vitality that I simply didn’t have any freak-out left in me. I struggled to my feet, knocked the ick out of my gun barrel, and stepped back outside.

Prentiss looked like a gorilla with mahghul swarming all over him. Something, maybe seeing mine explode, had made him realize he was under attack. He was trying to pull them off. But they held tight, like a pack of enormous, excited ticks.

“Help me!” he screamed just before one stuck its small paw down his throat. His next bout of begging came out as a series of indecipherable glugs. My first instinct was to run back into the temple. Grab a torch off the wall. I was betting it doubled as holy fire. I had a feeling that might make the parasites loosen their hold.

Except as soon as they did, P.C. would try to kill me some more.

So instead I took steady aim at that extra eye, the one the mahghul seemed intent on avoiding. It widened. Began to blink rapidly as the gurgling sounds rose to a fearful peak.

I squeezed the trigger gently, part of me happily amazed the mahghul avoided me as I finished off the reaver. Maybe the smell of their brethren on me was enough to keep them at arm’s length. Had I happened on a new pesticide? Should I give Asha a buzz?

Hey, buddy. Great news! All you gotta do is spread mahghul guts all over your bod and you can go back to busting humps just like in the good old days!

As the remaining nasties slunk away I tried to plan my next move. But it wasn’t easy to think past the I-couldn’t-give-a-shit that had stolen over me. I knew those who’d bitten me had left a mark deeper than the bloody imprints of their fangs. Impossible to pinpoint among the emotional scars that crisscrossed my soul, marring it just as deeply as the welts on Vayl’s back, these wounds were already festering. Soon even the core of me, still clear-eyed enough to be biting its nails to the quick, wouldn’t be able to fend off this pervasive sense of hopelessness.

“I need a cure,” I whispered. I looked down at myself. Covered in drying blood and body parts, I should be puking, gagging, swearing. Jesus, I should at least be trying to get it off! But I just stared.

I’m doomed

.

A single tear escaped the corner of my eye, burned its way down my face, and dripped onto my hand, which still held my bolo. I watched it sizzle on my skin for a moment, as if it were a drop of grease in a pan.

“Ow!” I rubbed my hand, surprised at the pain a bead of moisture could cause. Certain the Amanha Szeya had affected more than my tear ducts when his hands had cupped my cheeks. Pleased at the white spot I’d cleared with that small effort.

I wiped my face off too, before it could get any hotter. Took a look at the gook my hand had removed.

“A shower. That would make me feel better.” Just knowing I’d entertained a positive thought allowed me to move to the vehicles. No way would I sit my disgusting ass in Asha’s beautiful black sedan. So I got into the TV van, started it up, and drove home.

Chapter Twenty-One

B

eing a girl, I enjoy the dramatic entrance. Having all eyes on me, preferably admiring and male, as I sashay to my table. Or, better yet, to the podium to accept a major award. My hair, makeup, and gown the most perfect combination any woman has ever put together in the history of the world.

But in my line of work, if that happens, I’ve just screwed the pooch. So when I opened the kitchen door, after parking the TV van in the garage and thanking my lucky stars its high ceilings just barely accommodated the satellite dish, I experienced a flash of guilt when every eye in the room turned to me and widened in a united moment of shock. I couldn’t hang on to the feeling though. In fact, no emotion seemed to stick for longer than a few seconds before it fizzled beneath the mahghul tumor that grew inside me, spreading its tentacles into every part of my being.

“Hard night?” asked Cole in a lame attempt at humor.

“You could say that,” I replied, taking stock of my audience. Everybody had bought a ticket. Except Vayl. “Where’s the boss?” I asked Cole.

He hesitated, then shrugged. “In the guys’ room,” he said, “meditating. Apparently you have to achieve nirvana before you can turn a human into a vampire, and he hasn’t quite made the leap.”

Anger flitted through me. Cirilai would’ve warned him of my danger. Normally he’d have come dashing to the rescue. Even if he’d thought I could handle the situation, he’d have hovered nearby. Stood on the sidelines and cheered me on. Nothing on earth would’ve stopped him from backing me up. Until now.

“Jaz.” Dave stepped forward from his spot by the stove, where he’d been talking with Cassandra. “What happened to you?” He reached out and I backed up, my heel banging into woodwork before my shoulders could hit the wall and leave a big red splotch.

“Don’t touch me. I . . . the things that attacked me leave a residue. I don’t want you hurt.”

And I don’t want you to know that I know. Somehow I think if you touch me the Wizard might get a whiff of my suspicions. And that’ll be the end of us all. Oh Jesus, Dave, how am I going to save you?

“Are you infected?” demanded Amazon Grace, jumping off her stool and heading for the living room. She grabbed Jet and Cam, tried to drag them with her, but they didn’t seem interested in budging. “She’s going to give you guys some fatal disease,” Grace warned them. When they still refused to stand up, she snarled something unintelligible, let go of their shirts, and stomped out of the room.

“It’s not something you can get through the air,” I told them. “Probably not even by touching. I think you have to actually kill somebody.”

“Which you obviously did tonight,” said Natchez, his upper lip curling at the sight I made.

“I’ll fill you all in, I promise. Just let me get a shower first, okay? Actually,” — I turned to Cassandra — “what I really need is some holy water.”

Half an hour later, anointed and bathed, realizing I should feel tons better and feeling a fat lot of nothing instead, I headed back toward the kitchen. I passed the guys’ room on the way. Vayl had closed the door, but I could sense him behind it. The anger came again, and before it could leave I grabbed it. Held hard to it, though it tried to wriggle out of my hands like the slick little eel it had become.

I threw open the door and strode into the room. “Where the hell were you?” I demanded.

He sat on a beautifully crafted blue and white rug within a circle of stones, his hands resting in his lap. His expression, serene as a Buddhist monk’s, didn’t change when I barged in. But his eyes, already a troubled oceanic blue, darkened to purple. Any other time I might’ve taken a second to wonder why Vayl, sitting alone, preparing for an event meant to lead to the fulfillment of a centuries’ long quest, had reason to be upset about anything. But the clock was ticking on my wave of anger and I had more urgent business to deal with.

“What do you mean?” he asked smoothly. He stood, I think because he didn’t like looking up at me as I glared down at him.

Stay mad

, I told myself. Not an easy order to obey considering my circumstances. And the fact that Vayl had already changed for bed. All he wore was a pair of white silk drawstring pajama bottoms that left very little to the imagination. And mine had kicked into overdrive.

I resolutely kept my eyes on his as I said, “While you were out playing Turn the Seer, four reavers nearly killed me. Not to mention twenty or thirty mahghul. You’re supposed to be my boss. You

said

we were partners.”

“What are mahghul?” Vayl asked, allowing his eyes to wander to the bed, which already held his sleeping tent. He didn’t even seem interested.

“We saw them at the hanging!” I informed him hotly. “They attack killers and their victims. They suck away all your emotions and leave you fucking numb, Vayl. They were on me. You wanna see?” I turned around and lifted my tunic, gave him a good five seconds to survey the damage. When I felt the tips of his fingers brush my back I jerked my shirt down and spun around.

I didn’t want to recognize the expression on his face. In my opinion, you shouldn’t have to see that kind of grief on a person more than once in your life. David had worn that look sixteen months ago when he’d walked into my kitchen just in time to watch me destroy his wife.

“What have you done?” he’d yelled, running to the spot where she’d stood only seconds before, begging for entry. So she could tear my throat out.

“She made me promise,” I told him through chattering teeth. I’d begun to shake head to toe. I put my newly named gun on the table before I accidentally shot myself in the foot and hugged myself. “We vowed to each other that if one of us turned, the other would smoke her.”

He stared at me, his eyes wild and disbelieving. I could tell he wanted to lean down, touch what remained of her clothes, her being, but his broken ribs barely allowed him to stand. His doctor had only consented to release him for our team’s funerals if he’d promise to stay with a family member. Since I lived closest to the cemetery, he’d chosen me.

“You’re lying!” he cried. “Jessie would never make that kind of deal! She’d want to live no matter what!”

“No.” I tried to shake my head, but all it would do was jerk. I swallowed reflexively. No longer just trembling now, I was seizing. Having some sort of convulsive fit that made me feel like I was standing on top of a jackhammer. I clenched my teeth together, forced myself to talk through them. “

You

want her to live no matter what.”

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite!” David yelled. “If Matt had been standing on your threshold, asking to come in, you’d have thrown open the door. Hell, you’d have slit a wrist for him!”

I didn’t say a word. Useless to tell Dave that Matt and I had made the same deal as I’d had with Jessie. What did it matter anyway? If he wanted to be mad at me, if that helped him get through this nightmare, let him. It was the least I could do.

I dug my fingernails into my sides, sank them deep and concentrated on the pain. It helped. Kept me from taking the next step, which was walking over to the wall and banging my head against it till I passed out.

“I can’t stand the sight of you for another second,” he said, spitting the words like venom. “I’m getting out of here.”

I nodded, too wounded by my own terrible losses to let this new hurt do more than take its place in line. While he went to his room to pack, I took a few minutes to pull myself together. Then I gathered up Jessie’s remains. They made a pitifully small pile for such a bright, vibrant woman. I put them in a cedar-lined box that Granny May had given me when I was a little girl and handed it to Dave on his way out.

“It’s what’s left of her,” I said. “You can keep it or bury it. Whatever you want.” Tears sprang into his eyes as he took the box from me. “I loved her, Dave. I loved them all.”

He nodded. “You may have. But you were in charge. So it’s your fault they’re dead.”

I’d nodded.

Yes. My fault, my fault, my fault . . .

Later he’d sort of apologized for that last remark. But he’d never really forgiven me for Jessie. And I still didn’t blame him. I guess I’d never pursued another real conversation about her with him after that because I hadn’t wanted to see that expression on his face again. But here it was, plastered across Vayl’s visage like a movie on a screen.

“Cirilai did not warn me,” he said.

“Vayl, this ring is better than a hotel wake-up call. You must’ve felt

something

. It’s been zapping me left and right about you.”

He dropped his head. Shook it a few times. When he looked up again, his whole face seemed to have tightened, as if a decade’s worth of worries had suddenly dropped on his head. “What do you think this means?”

“Why are you asking me? It’s your ring. You should know why you’ve become disconnected from it.”

From what it represents. Come on, pal, isn’t it obvious

?

He threw back his shoulders. Determined, it seemed, to soldier on despite the growing evidence against the wisdom of his current course of action. “It does not matter. You are obviously fine. Our mission is still on course for completion. And Zarsa will be ready for the turning by week’s end. Everything is on track.” By the tone in his voice, I thought he was trying to convince himself more than me. Normally I would’ve grabbed him by the shirt and shaken some sense into him. But at the moment I couldn’t find one give-a-crap bone in my body.

“Okay,” I said. I turned to go.

“What did you say?”

I looked over my shoulder. Why would he be mad? I’d just agreed with him. “I said fine. You’re right. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to —”

“I most definitely

do

mind!”

I turned back to face him, always a good choice when dealing with a madman. “Vayl,” I said gently, so as not to push him clear off the deep end, “what is it that you want?”

“I want you to yell!” He stopped, looked surprised at himself, rushed on. “You have been” — he searched for the words — “on my case, how you say, in my face, ever since I took up with Zarsa. Frankly, it has infuriated me to no end!”

“Uh-huh. And now that I’ve stopped, you want me to start again? Aren’t you kind of undermining yourself here just a little bit?”

“Yes! But when I fight you, I do not have to listen to my own doubts.”

Ahhh

. “Well, sorry, Charlie, I don’t feel like sparring anymore.” I tried out a smile, realized I couldn’t quite hack it. “Come to think of it, I don’t feel anything anymore.”

Vayl closed the distance between us so swiftly my eyes barely followed his movements. He pulled me into his arms almost violently. It was a me-Tarzan-you-Jane kind of embrace. And Jane liked it fine.

His eyes transformed as they stared into mine, changing from amethyst to emerald in a couple of dizzying seconds. “I find I do not like this new, mahghul-inspired you,” he said, running his fingers through my wet hair. He spent some time on the bit that had turned white, twining it gently around his thumb. And I let him.

Hell, if he’d wanted to give me a full-body massage I’d have hopped on the nearest table and invited him to dig in. His powers percolated at their usual level, so I knew he wasn’t using any hocus-pocus on me. But I still felt hypnotized, captivated by his touch, the fascination in his eyes and the possibilities they hid.

“I don’t like it either,” I whispered. “But I seem to be stuck with it.”

“I disagree,” Vayl replied softly. “Creatures who feed on emotions leave a void that can be filled again — over years, with a great deal of patience. Or all at once, with a strong dose of emotion. The trick is to find the proper sensation.” As he looked into my eyes, Vayl smiled. Not his regular lip twitch, which made him look more cynical than amused. Not even his full-faced, ferocious grin. This smile was new. Because it managed a sweetness I’d never seen in him before.

“Vayl?” I never got a chance to ask the question forming in my mind. It couldn’t have been that important anyway. Because the moment Vayl lowered his head, captured my lips with his, I forgot it.

I’d fantasized this kiss a few hundred times since the last time Vayl’s lips had brushed mine. And I’ve got a terrific imagination. But I still hadn’t prepared myself for the rush of desire that tore through me as Vayl’s arms tightened around me, pulling me so close I thought for a second I could feel his heart beating in my own chest.

I know, I know, it was just a kiss, right? Nobody’s ever really heard violins. The only people who’ve been blinded by passion were the ones who couldn’t see that well to start with. I’ve heard all the clichés and called them crap myself. That was before I met Matt, before I learned what a difference real love could make. But, while I knew paradise existed, I’d never really expected to visit it again.

Especially not on the wings of a single kiss.

Still, it was Vayl. Who’d brought me out of the darkness. Who’d stuck with me despite some spectacular screwups on my part. Who’d given me his ring, his trust, his innermost secrets. And who had nearly become a stranger in the course of a few days. That last bit had terrified me more than I realized. And it made our kiss all the more breathtaking. Because it meant he was back to stay.

When I finally came up for air, Vayl drew his head back and said, “How do you feel?”

Realizing for the first time that my arms were around his neck, I let them drop to his chest. His body felt so incredible, my hands just wanted to keep wandering, but I forced them to keep still. I smiled lazily. “Delicious.”

“Excellent.” He slapped me on the butt. “Now, off with you. I still have a great deal to do if I am to turn Zarsa before week’s end.”

I watched my hands curl into fists. And if I caught some chest hair in the process, tough. “What the hell did you just say?”

He chuckled. “Just checking to make sure your temper is intact.”

“Oh, believe me, it is. In fact, right at this moment, I feel perfectly capable of taking your head off!”

“Then perhaps I will just let this whole pact with Zarsa fall by the wayside.”

“You’re damn straight you will!” I was still pissed, but not so much that I didn’t catch his look of regret as he leaned over and began gathering rocks into a pile. I said, “I am sorry though. I know finding your boys means everything to you.”

He stood, let the rock he held slip from one hand to the other and back again as he watched it thoughtfully. Finally he said, “You must know that I will never give up the search. I

have

to find my sons.” He met my gaze. “But I will never again let that desire come between us. What we have . . . ” His eyes warmed to amber. “I cannot imagine losing it. Not for anything.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

I

never really pegged Vayl for a sweet talker. But damned if the words he said didn’t make me want to jump on him and smother him in smooches. I’d just taken a step toward him, watched his eyes crinkle with pleasure as he realized my plan, when Cole cleared his throat behind me.

“Jaz, I thought you’d want to know,” he said roughly, “I found the home owner.”

I turned around, my Lucille smile firmly in place. My alter ego would know how to deal with Cole without hurting him, whereas Jaz would just be blunt. Maybe even mean. “Cool! Who is he?”

“A businessman named Delir Kazimi.”

“Have you got a picture?”

“I’ll print one up for you.”

“Great. Thanks!”

Cole and Vayl traded stares. If they’d been any other species of male, the next step would have been a full-on charge. I started to shake my head.

How do I screw things up so expertly in such a short amount of time?

I asked myself.

I really thought I’d settled things with Cole. That he understood I didn’t want a relationship. Then, the next thing you know, he’s professed his love, we’re camel tipping in Tehran, and I’ve let him blackmail me into a date. And that’s going to thrill Vayl like a stake through the heart.

Meanwhile, the vampire in question, perhaps realizing Cole was no threat, had turned his attention to me. “Why do you want to know who owns this house?” he asked.

I explained my theory that the Wizard had taken control of David and that, perhaps, he even owned the building in which we currently resided.

“I suppose it is possible,” said Vayl, “but the motivation for doing such a thing makes no sense. Why would someone with his power and reach set himself up for assassination?”

“We haven’t quite figured that out,” I admitted. “I think first we need to prove Dave is the mole. Then we have to figure out how to make sure he survives this mission.”

“Jasmine,” Vayl said gently, “you know none of us has the power to do that.”

“Then I’ll just have to talk to Raoul.”

“Won’t that be dangerous?” asked Cole, still sounding somewhat belligerent. “I thought after your showdown with the Magistrate you’d decided to avoid Raoul.” He’d relaxed enough from his stare-down with Vayl to lean against the doorjamb. But he’d managed to bite the ever-present toothpick in his mouth in half, and was now searching his pockets for a replacement.

I looked him in the eye as he patted himself down, wishing I had such an easy-to-fix habit. The need to shuffle was practically burning holes into my palms. But all I said was “That was before my brother’s life was on the line.”

Vayl said, “I want to be convinced, and yet . . . if David did not die in training, how do you think the Wizard killed him? I would assume he was always with one of his men, even on leave. Unless he is a complete loner?”

I thought about it. Reluctantly shook my head. “No, he’d never take off on his own. He always hung with his friends. And in a place like this, even on leave, it would be too dangerous to wander off by yourself.”

“Which means,” Cole put in, “this dude would’ve had to kill Dave, plant some sort of control device, and bring him back right in front of his men, without any of them ever realizing it had happened.”

“Are we sure there is a device?” asked Vayl.

“According to the Enkyklios, the Wizard either has to see his zombies to control them, or he has to implant something inside them that allows him to control them from a distance,” I reminded him.

That implant would give off some sort of psychic signal, which was why Bergman had sent me to Asha in the first place. Flash of guilt as I realized I still hadn’t clued Vayl in as to his existence. Well, hey, we weren’t married. I didn’t have to tell him every little detail of my day.

Except

, I reminded myself,

when it has some bearing on the job

. But I found it harder than I expected to admit to Vayl that I’d met somebody while stalking him. That the guy was so powerful he knew Raoul. And that he’d shared some of his go-juice with me. I let it be, hoping I’d find a better time and place. Or at least more courage if the timing turned out crappy.

“Maybe we should ask the guys in Dave’s unit,” Cole finally suggested. “One of them would probably know what we were talking about right away. It would’ve had to have been a time when he was at least injured, right? I mean, you can’t kill a guy and bring him back without leaving some trace.”

“That’s it!” I cried. “Cam was just telling us the story! How they captured two of the Wizard’s cohorts. How one of them went for Dave’s throat, left massive amounts of blood all over the place, and Dave without the ability to talk for a couple of days.”

“That’s right!” Cole said. “And come to think of it, doesn’t he scratch his neck quite a bit?” The signs Bergman had told us to look for. They were right under our noses all the time. I hadn’t sensed David’s uniqueness because I’d accepted it to start with. I’d thought he was one of Raoul’s fighters, like me. And I hadn’t noticed his tells because, by bringing up his suspicions about a mole, he’d turned those doubts completely away from himself.

“All right,” said Vayl, nodding slowly. “I am convinced. And yet, I still wonder. Why? What is to be gained by arranging for two CIA assassins to come and kill you?”

We offered him our theories, which he refused to swallow. “I do not believe he wants to die. Especially not at our hands. That would be the height of dishonor for him. So let us assume he wants to live.”

“Maybe he wants to go straight?” Cole hazarded. “Make it look like he’s been killed, when in reality he starts a new life somewhere completely different?”

“And so he has set us up to kill — who — his double?” Vayl asked.

We nodded. It happened all the time. Bad guys sent their patsies in one direction while they went the opposite in the hope that whoever was chasing them would follow the patsy and drop the J-DAM on his head.

I fished the Wizard’s picture out of my pocket and stared at it, feeling a whole new level of bummed for the ladies it portrayed. No way would the gentleman who held them willingly give up his life with them. Which meant he was being coerced. Shit. Not only couldn’t we kill him, now we had to rescue his family before the Wizard’s people found out the game was up, got pissed, and lopped off their heads. At the same time we still needed to locate the Wizard.

Time for Bergman and Cassandra to chime in.

It wasn’t easy to separate Cassandra from David. They’d become kind of indivisible. Like prime numbers. Which broke my heart. And here I’d thought it was already totaled.

In the end Cole told Cassandra I had girl problems and nobody in the kitchen was interested in hearing any more about it. He lured Bergman out of the room by informing him Pete was on my special specs, something about a glitch in his translator hardware that had caused an agent’s hair to catch fire.

When we were all gathered in the boys’ room with Cole guarding the door against snoops, I gave our newbies the lowdown. Bergman took it well. Cassandra swayed a little, but she refused help as she walked to the bench, where she sat still and staring. I sat beside her, talking fast.

“I’m going to see Raoul as soon as I can,” I told her. “I will work this out.”

“If it’s possible,” she said, her voice distant, strangely calm. She’d had to dig deep for this strength. Almost to the other side of the world.

“Cassandra, you should have more faith in me,” I said. I sounded composed, but my insides were quaking. The consequences of my failure were so extreme I could hardly bear the thought of them. So, of course, I didn’t. “Did I not save your life on our last mission, despite the fact that you’d had a vision of your own death?”

Momentary pause. “Yes.”

“Shouldn’t that count for something now, especially considering the fact that you haven’t had a single vision since you touched my brother thirty-two hours ago?”

It took a while for her eyes to focus on me. When they did, they managed a smile. “Yes,” she said.

“Well then.” I left it there. Moved on. “We think the Wizard’s link to David is in his neck.” And that’s where I stopped. I looked at Vayl, suddenly helpless. If I had to say another word I’d burst into tears and ruin every bit of credibility I’d gained over the past five minutes. Because I could only pretend my twin being a zombie was no big deal for so long. And then the horror of it would overcome me, leave me speechless.

During these times I almost wished Vayl hadn’t rescued me from the mahghul poison. What a relief to have cared less. Kept a distance from the pain. But I couldn’t have functioned then. I’d have been left, like Asha, standing on the sidewalk, scribbling names on a notepad as if I thought that might make some difference in my worthless, blasted world.

Vayl nodded slightly, raising an eyebrow to ask if I’d be okay. I shrugged. He said, “We need a way to track the connection between the device in David’s neck and the Wizard. We thought perhaps, between the two of you” — his glance took in Cassandra and Bergman both — “perhaps you could find a scientific and/or magical means to do that

without

alerting the Wizard that his plans have been compromised.”

“That might be difficult on my end,” said Cassandra. “David and I have been spending such a lot of time together. He might become suspicious when I begin to stay away.”

A definite point. I said, “Then I think we bring in Cam. He can decide if the rest of the team can keep this kind of secret without letting Dave in on it. And they can divert him when you’re busy.”

We agreed to let Cole recruit Cam while I tried to contact Raoul. Bergman took my place on the bench. He and Cassandra immediately began discussing strategies while I went to stand by Vayl at the window.

“How do you want to do this?” he asked in a low voice.

“I’m not going out-of-body yet,” I told him, trying not to shiver at how easily the Magistrate had trapped me last time. “But if I have to —” I bit my lip to keep myself from saying goodbye. You have to believe you’re coming back. “It might get rough,” I said. I twisted Cirilai on my finger. Gave it a tap. “You may need to send help.” I paused. “If you can.”

He nodded, the relief in his eyes making me wish I could hug him. “Yes. The ring and I are on speaking terms again.”

Whew! In dire circumstances, Vayl could share his power with me through the ring. It wasn’t easy on either one of us, but if Cirilai told him I was in trouble, he might be able to assist me. Having been through one battle without that fallback, I was doubly glad to have it now.

“All right, then,” he said, “go ahead and talk.”

I looked out the window.

Raoul? Major problems here below

.

I’M LISTENING

.

I sketched out the details.

So, what do you think?

I finally asked.

Can you save my brother

this time? I emphasized the last two words, letting him know I remembered our brief conversation about Dave on my initial visit to his headquarters.

Long silence, during which I realized it had begun to rain. I gazed down at the small courtyard behind the house. It looked as bare and forlorn as my life would be without Dave in it.

Raoul? I don’t think you’re understanding the severity of my situation here. We need to talk face-to-face.

TOO DANGEROUS

.

For you or for me? Because I gotta tell you, if my brother dies when I think you could’ve saved him, neither one of us is going to be very effective at our jobs for a long, long time.

HE IS GOVERNED BY EVIL

.

So’s practically everyone in this country! Come on, you’re smart enough to tell the difference between a victim and a bad guy! Look at Dave’s history, for chrissake. He’s an angel compared to me!

I paused to check my tone. No sign of whining, thank goodness, but a definite on the desperation. Screw it. I’d worry about my pride later.

I don’t know why he ended up where he is. Or why you never told me. But I do know my brother. He’d throw himself on his own grenade rather than betray his comrades and his country.

Another pause, which I used to remind myself to call my other sibling. Evie must be frantic by now, worried about Albert and unable to contact me or David. One thing at a time though. If I tried to think about everything I had to accomplish in the next twenty-four hours I’d shatter.

Save my brother

, I told Raoul.

You want to make some kind of sweet deal with me in return for that favor, I’m all about it.

GO TO SLEEP

.

I understood immediately. We operated on such different planes, communication was never easy. He couldn’t speak to me at length in my head without frying my synapses. I couldn’t visit him at home without dying first. If I left my body the Magistrate would pounce. My dreams were the happy middle ground.

Okay. Give me a few minutes to wind things up here

.

Bergman opened the door to Cole’s knock. He strolled in with a fake grin on his face. “Hey, Jaz, you’ll never guess what Cam and I found in that TV van you stole.”

Cam followed closely and Bergman shut the door gently behind them. They carried two portable cameras and a sheaf of papers Cole said were government taping permits.

As soon as Cam heard the catch click behind him, the easygoing smile left his face. He set the camera he carried on the floor and walked over to where I stood, still half gazing out the window, trying to marshal my arguments for my next go-around with Raoul.

“You got any kind of plan that’s gonna save my commander’s life, I’m in,” he said flatly.

“It might call for some major acting skills,” I warned him.

“Part of the reason they chose us for this job is because we can blend in. Become anything but soldiers. You need me to prance across a stage wearing a tiara and tights, I can pull it off so convincingly the audience will be screaming for more by the end of the show.”

I swallowed a smile. “Well, it might be extreme, but you should be able to keep your pants on throughout.”

He nodded, the twinkle in his eyes letting me know his humor might be squelched, but it would never die.

“What about the rest of your team?” I asked.

“You can depend on them,” he said instantly.

“No.

You

can depend on them.” I looked him in the eyes. “I don’t trust Grace.”

“She’d die for David.”

“She’s as territorial as a bull moose. Think about it, Cam. Her commander is no longer fit to lead, only nobody can tell him that. So we’ve all got to make him think he’s in charge while somebody else calls the shots. Mission-wise, that somebody is Vayl. He’s still overseeing this job. He’s the one who’s responsible to take down the Wizard. But where David’s life is concerned, I’m the boss. I believe I know how to save him. I’ve begun that process. If Grace has different ideas, her instinct will be to take the lead. I won’t allow that. You need to make her understand — if she can’t fall in line on this, I won’t argue. I won’t hesitate. I’ll just kill her.”

For just a second I let the veil lift, allowed him to see the cold-blooded murderess I kept hidden from my family, my crew, even myself most of the time. She’s not pretty or desirable. In fact, she’s so freaking scary my instinct is to keep her bound and gagged, locked in a sarcophagus, and buried in the deepest tomb I can find. But I need her. She keeps me and my country strong. As long as I keep her leashed. So far it’s worked out okay. But I know I’m playing with dynamite. I just hope I’m smart enough to exorcise her before she explodes.

Cam backed up a step, realized what he’d done and held his ground. He nodded crisply, his lips pressed into an uncharacteristically grim line. “Grace won’t be a problem.”

“Good.”

“I’ll spread the word.”

“As far as the Wizard is concerned, we will continue with the original plan,” Vayl told him. “However, Cassandra and Bergman have been assigned a new project. David will have to be kept from her when she is working. We would like your crew to make sure he does not suspect he is being separated from her deliberately.”

“No problem.” Cam looked at me, the concern so thick in his eyes it seemed to cloud every other thought. I could tell he wanted to ask if my strategy had a chance of working. But he’d been around too long, seen too much to believe I could give him a comforting answer. So he simply nodded, turned on his heel, and left.

When we were all alone in the room again, Bergman said in a small voice, “Would you really kill Grace?” I let the window curtain drop and fully faced my crew. I looked them each in the eye.

Bergman, his thin shoulders hunched against every fear he’d ever felt or imagined, peered at me through the lenses of his glasses as if they could shield him from whatever reality I might throw at him. Cassandra, with her classic bone structure and clear dark skin, would never look more than twenty-eight. But the weight of centuries of pain and hardship had somehow given her the air of an ancient goddess. Cole gazed at me with a frank acceptance that could become addictive. Vayl stood at my shoulder, not touching me. And yet I felt the solid strength of his support. After having lost it, even briefly, I realized how much it meant to me. That scared me. But not enough to let it go.

I talked to Bergman, though my words were for everyone. “Yes, I’ll kill her if I think she’s a threat. I’d do the same if I thought anyone was a danger to any of you. I learned a hard lesson with my Helsingers. It’s not one I’m going to repeat. I won’t lose another crew member if there’s anything I can do to stop it. And I do mean anything.”

I suddenly imagined Raoul, waiting for me to dream as he lounged on his black leather recliner, overhearing my last words. “Hmm, anything?” He’d take a look at the list he’d made on the legal pad in his lap, jot a couple of notes, turn the page, and begin writing in earnest.

Oh boy

.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I

can’t believe I can’t sleep!” I wanted to punch something. The glass and brick facade of the business I currently walked past seemed a likely candidate, its broad, dirty windows revealing an enormous black machine that looked to have been attacked by men wielding baseball bats. It seemed like a helluva plan, but Vayl’s hand, cool on my neck, deterred me from adding to the destruction.

“This is not helping.”

“I’m just so pissed off!”

He nodded. It had been a god-awful hour. You think your plan is marching along like a band in the field, all the sections moving to their appointed places at the appropriate times. Then somebody falls on his ass and the next thing you know there’s a clarinet player stuck in the sousaphone.

I’d just settled into bed when Cole had come to me with a picture of Delir Kazimi, the house owner. He looked almost exactly like our Wizard photo. But there were differences. A sharpness to the nose and chin. An emptiness in the eyes. This guy I could believe was a three-headed god-worshipping terrorist. His address was in Saudi Arabia, so I went back to Vayl’s room and we called Pete to get the clearance to go after him. Since he couldn’t discuss the deal without his DOD cohorts chiming in, we hung up while he took fifteen minutes to find them. In the meantime I called Evie.

“Hello?” Well, she didn’t sound tearful.

“Evie?”

“Jaz? Where are you?”

“I’m in Germany. My company’s merging with a pharmaceutical firm over here. And when I had a chance to meet with some execs to explain our marketing techniques, I jumped at it. Dave’s on leave, so I’m actually hanging with him right now.”

“That’s wonderful! So you guys are getting along?”

“Pretty well. I mean, we haven’t talked about Jessie at all . . . ” I stopped. If Dave died with that matter still unsettled between us, I’d always regret it. I didn’t think I could ever make him understand I’d done what I had out of love for her. But maybe . . . “Evie, I’m so sorry you’re alone right now.”

“No, Tim and E.J. are here. It’s just, I was really worried about you when I couldn’t find you.” Now the tears. It seemed like every time I called my sister she ended up crying. How do you make up for that?

“I’m sorry.” Nope, that wouldn’t cut it. Try again. “Is there something I can do?”

“Come home.”

Oh crap

.

“Not now,” Evie said, before I could even formulate a decent lie. “As soon as you can. I’ll take care of Dad until then. But here’s when I really need you. Easter is April fourteenth this year, and that’s when Tim and I are getting E.J. baptized. Dad should be well enough to go . . . ”

Or dead

, we both thought, but neither one of us would say it.

“And I need you there with me.”

“Why?”

“You’re her godmother.”

“I am?”

“You said you would.”

“When?”

“When you were ten! Jaz, you promised!”

Oh my God, leave it to Evie to remember a vow I made fifteen years ago. It was probably during one of those rainy days when she’d forced me to play dolls. I could just see her, rocking her Betsy Burps Up while I sat on the floor beside her, looking longingly out the window at my limp and dripping basketball net.

“I’ll be the mommy and you’ll be the godmother just like when we’re grown-ups,” she would’ve said in her sweet little girl’s voice.

And I’d have said, “Yeah, okay.”

I switched the phone to my other ear and wondered how she couldn’t see what a horrible choice she’d made. But she was my sister, and I’d abide by her wishes even if it meant I had to grit my teeth through piano recitals and school plays and awards banquets until my fillings fell out. “Of course I did,” I agreed. “And I’m honored.” Which I was, but she and Tim had better live to be a hundred. “And I’ll be there. I will. And I’ll tell Dave too. Maybe he can get away. Who knows?” I said brightly, although those last words tasted like ash on my tongue. In less than a month Evie and I might have buried our two closest male relatives.

No, nuh-uh, not if I have any say in this and, by God, I do. We will, every one of us Parkses, be there. Bitching about how uncomfortable our clothes are and feeling unworthy to be related to Evie and her precious bundle of bald, reflux-ridden joy

.

I went on. “So now I feel horribly guilty for not asking right off, but how’s Albert?”

“His leg is broken in two places, and they were worried about his back. But it’s okay. He was wearing a helmet, thank God. You should see it. Anyway, he had a major concussion, so they’re really concerned about him. And the diabetes isn’t going to speed any healing. But he’s been awake a few times and they’re cautiously optimistic that he’ll be okay.”

“How does he look?”

She took a moment to think. “Shrunken. How does that happen, Jaz? He always seemed so huge to me. Like a T. rex just about to tear my head off. And now he looks like a little old man. I think his hair has turned whiter in the past couple of days too.”

I pulled at my own strand of white and realized I’d either have to dye it or come up with an explanation for it. Maybe I’d just tell everybody it was a desperate cry for attention. Kinda like my belly ring, only visible.

“You know what might make him feel better?” I said. “A visit from one or two of his old Marine buddies. Why don’t I call Shelby and —”

“Not from Germany, you won’t,” said Evie. “I can’t imagine how much

this

is costing you. No, that’s an excellent idea, but I’ll make the calls. You just enjoy your time with Dave and make sure your little fanny is in my house on Easter Sunday. Got it?”

“Holy crap, you have turned into a bossy little Bertha!”

“I know.” She laughed. “It’s the mom in me. I think it’s only going to get worse too!”

Despite Albert’s precarious health, I actually felt okay when Evie and I hung up. Then Pete called. On the line with him were General Merle Danfer, our DOD liaison, and General Ethan “Bull” Kyle, commander of SOCOM.

“Gentlemen,” Vayl said, “we have good reason to believe our target has lured us into this situation.” He explained our suspicions without revealing who we thought the mole was. No sense in damning Dave until we had a way of saving him. “We believe the Wizard owns this house. Cole has faxed you his photo and address. We are trying to confirm his identity through his connection to the mole. If we can do that, we can continue the assignment as planned,” Vayl finished.

Pregnant pause, the kind that makes you uneasy because you thought everybody should’ve jumped right in and agreed with you from the start. “I think maybe you people have this all wrong,” said Danfer. “It seems to me the Wizard set you up, not to kill him, but so he could kill you.” Before we could poke any holes in his theory he rushed on. “He’s been on the run from our Spec Ops people for over a year. His mole has certainly let him know we’ve sent our best assassins to take him down. Nope. It looks to me like he’s just figured out a way to take the pressure off himself and make our military look like a duck trying to hump an emu. I say you continue with the assignment, only with the understanding that you’ll be walking into a trap and will therefore need to take the necessary precautions.”

“But, sir —” I began.

“Young woman, are you any good at what you do, or not?”

“I’ve never failed a mission.”

“Then get off your ass and kill that Wizard! Or are you just trying to make me look bad?”

What the hell?

I spent about three seconds floundering in confusion and then the light dawned. I’d heard rumors that Merle Danfer had his eye on the Oval Office. Bagging the Wizard would certainly send whole waves of voters his way when the time came. Was his ambition blinding him to reality?

“Sir, if you’re wrong we’ll be killing an innocent man.”

“How dare you question our intel!” Danfer roared. “People died to gain that information! Pete, what the hell kind of backwoods ingrates are you hiring over there? Maybe you should cull the herd before everybody’s infected!”

When Pete didn’t immediately leap to my defense my throat completely closed. No breathing allowed in the panic zone. I shot a save-me look at Vayl, who gave me a reassuring shake of the head.

No one is going to fire you,

his expression said.

You can’t guarantee that,

mine replied.

He knew I was right. Which was why his only answer was to drop his eyes.

“Jasmine, this is Bull Kyle speaking.”

“Yes, sir.” I sat up straighter. Couldn’t help it. That deep commanding voice, accompanied by a storied career that included enough medals to cover one wall of my living room had impressed me despite the fact that he’d served with Albert and was still a close friend. That put him in the same category as Jet’s dad, meaning he deserved either the cold shoulder or a punch in the face, whichever my career could handle. At this point I couldn’t even muster a mild snub.

“How’s your father?” General Kyle asked.

Do. Not. Cry. “The doctors are cautiously optimistic, sir.”

“He’s a good man. Better than you give him credit for.”

Huh

. How did he know?

“The daughters are always the last to find out, sir.”

He laughed appreciatively. “Yeah, well, maybe you should give mine a call.” His voice changed, took on a certain timbre that made me think I’d better be listening carefully because I didn’t want to miss a word. “This Wizard is a slippery character, isn’t he?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hard to tell what he’s up to until after he’s taken credit for it.”

“That’s true.”

“Make sure you get

him

.” He emphasized the word just slightly. Paused to let me know he agreed with our assessment of the situation but couldn’t officially set us on the track we wanted to take. He finished with, “Not the other way around.”

Easy for General Kyle to say. He wasn’t sitting in a rental house in Tehran, wondering just who would dig his career out of the Dumpster if he killed the right guy, but was never able to prove it. The Wizard’s henchmen might continue his work, use his name like he was still calling the shots and no one would be absolutely sure he wasn’t. I’d be lucky to get a job scraping gum off the undersides of the desks at Roosevelt Middle School.

Vayl and I looked at each other, and I could tell we were both thinking the same thing. Better to follow General Danfer’s directive. Take out the double. Maybe I’d been wrong about him and he hadn’t been coerced into this situation. No, he was probably a highly placed lieutenant, responsible for arranging or executing many of the atrocities the Wizard had committed over the course of his career. Okay, so we wouldn’t end up eliminating our true target. At least they couldn’t fire us for following orders.

But the whole deal sat wrong. It was the picture, dammit. The man in my hip pocket with his arms around his family. Nobody had ordered us to kill

him

. We weren’t certain he’d committed

any

offense deserving of assassination. Which was why I still couldn’t grab onto the sleep I so desperately needed.

After the phone call I stalked back to the girls’ bedroom. Tossed and turned for fifteen minutes. Gave up, got dressed, and sought out Vayl. He was still in his room. Sitting on the bench at the end of the bed, his hands on his knees, staring at the carpet.

“I can’t sleep!” I announced as I marched in. “I’d be snoring now if not for those calls! I’m going to build a time machine, go back to visit Alexander Graham Bell, and kill him before he invents the telephone!”

Vayl mustered a smile. One of the twitchy ones, which told me he was nearly as disturbed as I was. But he’d lived a lot longer, so he knew better how to go with the flow. “We have already hashed this out from every conceivable angle, Jasmine,” he said. “I cannot see an alternative to deviating from our original assignment that will not gravely jeopardize our careers.”

“I know, I know. But I still can’t sleep. And I

need

to!” I think the desperation in my voice finally registered, because Vayl slapped his hands on his knees and stood decisively.

“A walk then,” he said. “To cool you off and cheer both of us.”

I almost asked him what he had to be depressed about, that’s how tangled up I’d been in my own junk. But one look at his face reminded me of what he’d given up when he’d agreed not to turn Zarsa. I searched my brain for a way to make him feel better about not seeing his sons right away, but it was so raw from its recent bombardment it just moaned and curled into the fetal position.

So far the walk hadn’t done either of us any good. Of course it probably hadn’t helped that I kept bringing up our intolerable work situation and Vayl wouldn’t stop talking about Badu and Hanzi.

A red glow in the middle of the street several blocks ahead of us stopped me in the middle of my current rant, which effectively saved General Danfer from the maw of the Sarlaci from

Return of the Jedi

. “Do you see that?” I asked, grabbing Vayl’s sleeve and pulling him forward as I spoke.

When he didn’t immediately comment I looked up at him. The expression on his face threw me because it was so intense. “Vayl? What’s wrong?”

He jerked his arm away from mine and stopped cold. “That red flame is outlining a plane portal. I can see it because I am

other

. And because I have had occasion to battle creatures that emerged from similar portals elsewhere.

You

see it because your Spirit Eye has obviously gained power enough to open farther than ever before. But that power did not come from me.” His eyes sparked their own shade of red in the shadows of the street. “What vampire has taken your blood, my

avhar

?” Somehow he put a wealth of meaning into that last word.

“Okay, first of all, you’ve got some kind of nerve throwing that double-standard crap at me after what you were just planning to do with Zarsa,” I snapped. “And second, I was trying to do my job by finding the mole. I needed to boost my Sensitivity and you, my

sverhamin

, had made yourself about as scarce as it’s possible to be without actually falling off the planet!”

“Who. Is. He?”

“Not a vampire,” I said, hating the fact that, despite my righteous stance, I still felt guilty. “He’s an Amanha Szeya.”

Vayl’s brows shot up. He looked around the street, his fiery gaze taking in the locked shops, the quiet sidewalks, the arched doorways and window frames that gave everything its wonderful Persian flare. I decided he expected Asha to jump out of the nearest alley, at which point they would bicker over who had the most right to sink his powers into me.

“I take it you recognize his race,” I said, mostly to fill in the uneasy gap his raging silence left.

“I thought his kind had died out aeons ago.”

“He was after Zarsa for the deal she’d made with you,” I said, conveniently omitting the fact that Asha hadn’t meant to take any action to prevent the turning. “We met on her roof.”

Vayl pinned me with a look so piercing I put my hand to my chest to make sure there weren’t any smoking holes in it. “What were you doing on Anvari’s roof?”

I cleared my throat, switching stances uncomfortably. I suddenly wanted to pull my gun. Not to aim at anybody. Just for the comfort it would give me. I had so little left. But hey, if Cole could find a substitute for bubble gum, surely I could pick up a replacement for shuffling. Something soothing both in its repetitive nature and in the way it sounded as I took it through its motions. An idea struck me. Just as suddenly I ditched it. How was I supposed to fit a guitar into my jacket pocket?

Realizing I couldn’t put off this confession any longer, I put up my hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I admit I might have been keeping an eye on you. But I really had good intentions,” I assured him as his entire face tightened in his version of an oh-boy-did-you-ever-blow-it scowl. “I didn’t trust Zarsa and I wanted to make sure you were okay . . . ” I let my voice trail off. It sounded so stupid when I said it out loud.

“So, you followed me then as well?”

I nodded. Just a little.

“Jasmine, are you stalking me?”

I closed my eyes. Why, oh why, was there never an alien abduction team around to whisk you off to Neptune during these horribly embarrassing moments? “Stalking is such a harsh word,” I said weakly, looking at Vayl’s shoes since I couldn’t bear raising my gaze any higher.

“What would you prefer to call it?” he asked, his voice still hard. His fingers lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his relentless stare. And that was all it took. My temper, rarely long at rest, woke from its short nap, stretched like a hungry lioness, and immediately riveted on my boss.

“How about babysitting?” I inquired, cringing only slightly when his eyes narrowed dangerously. “I mean, though you repeatedly told me how much my opinion meant to you, and how much you trusted me, which was why you gave me Cirilai in the first place, you wouldn’t listen to a word I said. You just dogged Zarsa like some kid after a tasty treat. Frankly, stalking you was turning into the least of my worries. I thought I was going to have to kill her.”

Vayl’s hand dropped to his side. “Would you have done that?” he asked.

I couldn’t tell from his expression what answer he wanted. So I gave him the truth. “Yes. Because Cassandra told me ethical Seers don’t ask for any payment for their services, other than maybe a good story for their Enkyklios. I already knew from Asha she was misusing her powers. So yeah, if I couldn’t have come up with any other way to pry her claws out of you . . . Plus . . . ”

“What?”

Dammit, Jaz, why can’t you shut your mouth before you get yourself in trouble?

“Nothing.” I hoped he’d let it go, but somehow he knew.

“No, tell me.”

Goddammit

. “And I would have killed her because I sensed that turning her would have caused a big rift between you and me.” Not a good enough reason for assassination by itself, but paired with the first one, it worked for me. Even if I’d have had to deal with the guilt for the rest of my life.

Vayl took a step toward me. I licked my lips in anticipation. Then his phone rang. Which, since we were both wearing our stealth specs, meant he just got this faraway look on his face and started talking to invisible people.

“What?” he rapped. He listened for about five seconds, said, “We will be right there.” He grabbed my hand, nothing romantic in that gesture, damn-it-all, and strode back toward the house.

“What’s the deal?” I asked.

“That was Cole. He said we should come back right away. Soheil Anvari is there. He is yelling like a madman. And he has a gun.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

W

e arrived at the house with less than half an hour until dawn. Not a comfy way to end Vayl’s day, especially considering the fact that Zarsa’s hubby was waving an AK-47 around with his finger inside the trigger guard as he spoke. I scanned the living room to see if he’d already shot somebody accidentally, but everyone seemed to have all their parts.

The entire crew was present. Jet, Bergman, and Natchez shared the couch. Cole stood behind the love seat, on which sat Cassandra and Zarsa. Dave, Cam, and Amazon Grace stood in front of the fireplace. All of Dave’s people, plus Cole, carried some sort of concealed weapon. And I could tell by the way Grace had her arm behind her back that she held her firearm in-hand, though Soheil was too distracted to notice. They could take him out any time if they were willing to take damage and make noise. But that might put the kabosh on our mission. So while that possibility remained on the table, Vayl and I hoped for a peaceful alternative.

“There you are!” cried Soheil, as we came through the door. He swung the gun on Vayl.

“Now, wait a minute,” I said, stepping between the gun and its target.

Stupid

, I realized immediately. Those bullets wouldn’t kill Vayl, but they’d certainly do me in. Amazing what places your instincts will take you. I stepped back to my original position. “I think we have a huge misunderstanding here,” I said.

“What makes you think I would listen to a woman?” Soheil spat. “I have been betrayed by one!”

“That is not so!” Zarsa cried, jumping off her seat.

“Sit down!” roared Soheil. Zarsa dropped to her butt so fast you’d have thought he slapped her.

And that’s when I really began to worry. Soheil, the adoring husband, seemed to be so far beyond reason no one could reach him. I wasn’t sure anyone would leave the room alive. And the mahghul seemed to agree. They’d begun to pour in through the windows Vayl had broken. No one saw them but Vayl and me. I tried not to stare, but I kept seeing them out the corners of my eyes, perching on a shoulder, crouching in a corner or on the lip of a vase. A room full of ghouls just waiting for the violence to commence.

Vayl sent out a wave of power, just a brush of cool breeze that swept through the room, taking the edge off the fever pitch, making Soheil blink. “Cole said you came to see me,” he told Soheil gently.

“My wife, she says you two have made the deal.”

Vayl nodded. “We had spoken of a matter involving my sons, who died many long years ago.”

Soheil shook his head. He obviously didn’t care about that part. “She tells me I no longer have to worry about her getting sick. She says after you are finished, she will live forever. But first she must die.” His eyes widened with horror as he delivered this news. “But that is not the worst. She says then she must spend many months with you, learning your ways, so that when she returns to me she can use her powers to mend the wrongs that have been done to our family. This I cannot allow.”

A sob from Zarsa. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

“You have defiled my wife,” Soheil announced. “Therefore I must kill you.”

“No!” cried Zarsa. “Never!”

“How exactly did he defile her?” I asked, stepping up to Soheil, getting into his face, forcing him to deal with me. “By making the agreement?”

Soheil pointed at Vayl dramatically. “He took her blood!”

I turned to Cole, knowing it could only have happened on his watch. He winced as he met my eyes and we shared our first unspoken conversation.

Cole?

I couldn’t tell you. You would have just thought I was trying to get you to hate him and like me. I’m sorry, Jaz.

No. It can’t be.

I faced my

sverhamin

. “Vayl?” I asked, forcing my voice low so the screams I felt building wouldn’t accidentally release. “What do you say to that?”

He lowered his head just slightly. The gesture acted like a hatchet, burying in my heart. “It is true. We had begun the turning.”

I spun back to Soheil. “Go ahead, shoot the son of a bitch.”

He looked at me, round-eyed with surprise as Vayl said, “Jasmine, you must understand. I was not in my right mind then.”

“Oh, I know exactly where your head was at!” I yelled, stomping up to him with the idea of punching him right in the nose. But Albert had raised me to hit people in self-defense, not vice versa, so I went back to Soheil. “What are you waiting for, Hot Stuff? You wanted to shoot somebody, there he is! Tell you what, why don’t you aim for the gut? I hear it hurts more and it takes them longer to die.”

However, the more I ranted the less Soheil seemed interested in gunning down the vampire who’d bloodied his wife. But now I was just as pissed at her as I was at him. I marched over to her and yanked her to her feet. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, woman.”

Her eyes went wide as I touched her, which let me know she wasn’t a pure fraud. Generally I’d have dropped her wrist like it was on fire, but this time I held on. Let her have her visions. I hoped they gave her nightmares for a year. Finally she ripped her arm free. “What kind of monster are you?” she blubbered, rubbing her wrist like it had been in manacles. I looked at Cole. He quickly translated.

Wrong thing to say, missy

. I closed on her, because she’d backed away when I’d let her go. “The kind who’s going to kill you, your husband, and all of your children if you don’t confess, right now, to every single crime you committed against that man.” I pointed back at Vayl, looking as fierce as I possibly could, hoping she wouldn’t call my bluff. I’d never kill a kid. But Zarsa didn’t know that.

She covered her face with her hands as she began to cry. But she started talking too. “You must understand, I had my reasons. I . . . I had good reasons!” she wailed.

“Confess!” I roared.

She cowered from me and I felt like the worst kind of jerk. But, dammit, I wasn’t the one still waving an automatic weapon around the room.

With Cole translating almost as quickly as she spoke, she began speaking. “I have visions, yes!” she cried. “I See when I would rather be blind! But I cannot stop them. And they tear at my soul. When I touch a woman, I see her father’s fist crashing into her cheek. I feel her loathing at being forced to submit to a husband she did not choose for herself. And I know I cannot change these things. I am only the witness.”

I darted a look at Cassandra. She nodded gravely.

Oh yeah

, said her look.

Been there; tried to forget that

.

Zarsa went on. “But always I find a way to hope. I have Soheil and my children. Life is not always bad. And then a man comes to Soheil. He is the owner of this house. He hires Soheil as the caretaker and says for us to come here. To invite you to a reading. We are happy to have the extra income. Until the day I am cleaning and I pick up the key he has left us.”

Oh shit, Zarsa, stop!

I wanted to yell.

The Wizard’s watching you right now!

But I couldn’t warn her. Couldn’t make a move without betraying what I knew. So I sat tight and hoped for the best.

“The vision I have from holding this key is of a horror before unknown to me. I See doom for my people. Brothers strangling their sisters only to make their corpses walk again. Murderers lopping off heads like they are halving melons as their bodies writhe with parasitic monsters. Women setting themselves afire. My own children crying as they are forced to watch an endless procession of hangings. And behind it all someone laughing and laughing. It” — she held her hands out, almost pleading with us — “how can I tell you of the despair I felt afterward?”

Zarsa dropped her head as if it was just too heavy to hold up anymore and shook it. Every eye in the room was glued to her. No one spoke as she pulled herself together.

“That night I dreamed,” she said in a small voice. “A man came to my door, power rolling before him like thunder. I knew all I had to do was open my arms and it would be mine. I could take it, mold it, and use it to transform myself. To fight the vision of the key.” Though her arms still covered her stomach and she rocked on her knees like a mental patient, her eyes were dry. “This is why I must turn,” she said, her voice little more than a rasp. “I must have Vayl’s strength, his magic. So I told him he could meet his sons.”

“Even though it will kill them?” I asked. A pang went through me at breaking my promise to Cassandra. I’d probably go straight to hell for it. Spend eternity eating my hair and arguing with my mother. Oh well.

I could tell the question shocked Zarsa. She gave me such a how-did-you-know stare that Cole didn’t even bother with a translation.

Vayl came forward, his shoulders hunched as if someone had set a crate full of lead on them. “Meeting Hanzi and Badu . . . will lead to our deaths?” he asked.

She met his eyes squarely. “Sacrifices must be made to prevent the horror,” she said flatly.

“No, Zarsa,” I said. “You can’t prevent the horror by becoming one.” I glanced at Vayl. “No offense meant, boss.”

“None taken,” he replied.

“And look what this plan has done to your marriage,” Cole urged. “You don’t want to lose something so fine and rare, do you? Or do you enjoy putting your husband in such a crazed state?”

“No! Of course not!”

“And what about your children?” I asked.

“I act for them!” Zarsa exclaimed fiercely. “This world I saw, it is possible because too many have already failed to fight! Because fear is a weapon this man wields like a bully’s club. If I do not stand, my children will be crushed! I cannot, I will not allow that!”

I glanced at Soheil. The AK-47 hung at his side, nearly forgotten in the surge of pride that had washed away his previous rage at his wife. “She’s a pistol, isn’t she?” I asked him.

He nodded, his eyes shining with admiration. “I have married a tigress.”

I turned back to her. “Listen, I know you’re hell-bent on this course. And I met a sort of prophet on the street outside your house yesterday who told me you

are

destined to change the world. But

without

Vayl’s help.”

Her expression asked me why she should believe me. “What was his name?” she inquired.

“Asha Vasta.”

I’d never seen such an emotional quick-change in my life. Zarsa went from a cynicism heavily dosed with agitation to absolute awe. “You have met the Amanha Szeya?”

I cleared my throat, let my eyes roam the room. Amazon Grace still hid her gun behind her back. David scratched his neck, probably sending a video straight to the Wizard. Cam rolled his toothpick back and forth like it tasted of chocolate. Everyone else looked riveted. Except the mahghul, which began to file out of the room.

“Um. Yeah.” I didn’t realize the dude was so famous.

“There are legends, but we had thought them just that. No one has seen or spoken to him since the time of my great-great-grandfather. Can you take me to him?” she asked eagerly.

Whoops

. I suddenly felt like Pandora and, unable to close the box up tight again, wanted only to backpedal until nobody could tell I’d been the one whose hands had been on the latch. “He’s uh, well, hah.” How could I tell her he’d probably been standing right outside until a couple of minutes ago, but that he was only going to disappoint her?

“Do you know where he lives?” Vayl asked me.

I tried not to squirm under that cool blue gaze. “Maybe.”

Again with the eyebrows. Well, hey, I told myself, if he hadn’t been such a jerk none of this would’ve happened. “You have been inside his house?” Vayl asked, his voice only slightly less frigid than an ice cave.

“No. Only his garage. He lent me his car so I could get away from those four, uh,

guys

I told you about.”

“Where is this vehicle? I thought you drove some sort of truck back. No, it was a —”

“Um, can we talk about this later? When we don’t have company?”

Vayl nodded shortly and turned to Soheil. “I deeply regret anything I have done to offend you or injure your relationship with your wife. I was momentarily blinded by the hope that I might be reunited with my sons, whom I have been too long without. Obviously you and Zarsa have much to discuss. If, at the end of that time, you wish to visit Asha Vasta, my colleague here will be happy to guide you to his door.”

Vayl shot me a look over his shoulder that warned me not to say a word. I’d already done enough. My nonvocal reply said,

You too, Mr. Obsessive

.

Soheil threw the AK-47 over his back by its sling and helped Zarsa to her feet. He looked around the room, trying to formulate the right apology for taking a bunch of people hostage on the mistaken assumption that they could somehow stop their vampire associate from turning his wife into a blood-sucking immortal. “I have not the right words,” he finally muttered. “I am so very sorry.” They left quietly.

Chapter Twenty-Five

R

aoul met me in my restroom again, minus the bubble bath dream. This time I was standing fully dressed in the tub, armed with Grief and a wickedly curved blade that I might gut myself with if I wasn’t careful.

“What took you so long?” he demanded, his accent very Antonio Banderas in the extremity of his irritation.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I said shortly, remembering that last few minutes before Vayl had turned in with a grim, plodding-through-a-parade-of-blow-dart-shooting-pygmies sort of feeling.

Somehow our good moments were always so fleeting. The two times he’d taken my blood. That kiss. Spectacular. And yet the job had intervened, as usual. And in the end we’d said our good nights with the distant friendliness we reserved for airline attendants and taxi drivers. I don’t think he minded so much about the stalk — uh, tailing — I’d been doing. But keeping my knowledge of Asha from him had been a mistake he wouldn’t instantly forgive. Plus, I think he was still reeling from the idea that if he met his sons now, they’d all die.

And on my end, I felt like he’d cheated on me by taking Zarsa’s blood. Not that we’d had the exclusive talk yet. And if we did, shouldn’t it be about who we dated, not whose veins he drained? See, it was still just too confusing for me to relax into another kiss.

So when he said he had to turn in, he didn’t give me the walk-me-to-the-tent look I’d have anticipated pre-Soheil. For my part, I barely glanced up from the card game Dave’s team had begun. Cam had snagged a box of poker chips from the Hotel Sraosa before they’d left. Apparently the big spenders spent a lot of time in the “meeting room” playing no-limit Hold ’Em. Anyway, he was teaching me how the pros shuffle their chips while they decide what to bet. I couldn’t do it without making a huge mess, but Cam kept encouraging me. He made it look easy too. Halve the stack, lift, combine, and blend. Oh man, I loved the sound too. Yeah, I was hooked. When I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, he let me take a handful of ones to practice with. Gotta love that guy.

Raoul, on the other hand. Not so cuddly. In fact, I thought he resembled a pissed-off timber wolf as he towered over me, his crew-cut practically shooting sparks as he said, “You asked for this meeting. You would not believe what I had to do to be here. You know” — he put a fist on his hip and ran the other across his head in a gesture so much like my dad’s I had to stifle a laugh — “I don’t just sit around waiting for you to call! I am trying to find out what the Magistrate wants with you. You do remember him, don’t you? Tall, blond demonic type? Likes to tear the skin off people with his whip?”

“Yeah, Raoul, your description rings a bell.”

Okay, Jaz, drop the sarcasm. Right. Now. As far as you know, this guy is the only one who can save David. For once in your life, do not piss off your last chance. Even if he did foul up Dave’s transition and let the Wizard . . . No, you’re not even sure of that. Quit judging, keep an open mind, and don’t screw this up.

I sighed. “I’m really sorry. It’s . . . this mission is just insane. Things keep happening and I honestly couldn’t fall asleep when I wanted to. I tried. I really did.”

Raoul’s expression softened. “Let’s go somewhere else to talk,” he said. “Your bathroom makes me feel as if I’m buried alive.”

Gee, thanks. Now I’m going to have that lovely image playing in my head every time I have to pee

. But I didn’t say a word. Just followed Raoul out the door and into my living room.

He didn’t complain about its size, but he should’ve. It wasn’t even cozy. I just . . . I don’t really know how to make a place seem like home. We moved so much when I was a kid, and now I spend so much time in rented rooms. I guess I feel more comfortable in a hotel atmosphere.

The white walls were bare. The brown suede couch and chairs matched; they just didn’t look like anyone had sat in them in the past five years. I use an ottoman for a coffee table. It was empty. The only redeeming feature of the whole room was the fancy maple rack behind the couch that held my prized possession. In her will, Granny May had specifically stated that I should receive her Amish quilt, a gorgeous black, red, and green creation that played on your eye like a classic piece of art. Someday I’d display it that way. But only when I’d found someplace permanent.

Raoul settled on the couch. I sat beside him. “Have you thought about what I said before?” I asked. “Give it to me straight. Does Dave have any chance at all? I mean, I can’t let the Wizard control him much longer. When we pull the plug, so to speak, what will happen?”

Raoul sat forward, his hands clasped between his legs. “He may have a chance. But before you start the party, let me explain.” Deep lines appeared between his brows. “No. Let me apologize.” He met my eyes squarely, because that was how he’d been trained to face things. “I am forced to follow certain rules that strictly govern how much I may” — he grimaced — “interfere. Which is why I could not warn you. Couldn’t immediately send you to his aide. Even now I must be careful what to say.”

I stifled the urge to shake him. To get in his face and yell, “This is my brother we’re talking about! Tell me everything you know, dammit!”

Raoul went on. “When a person is murdered at the order of a necromancer, great powers are stirred in order to strap the soul into the body and bind it into service. One with the strength of your brother cannot be completely restrained. A part of him, almost what you would call a shadow, escaped. That was what came to me. Ever since then I have been trying to find a way to free him.”

Okay, so Dave

was

the second kind of zombie. The kind necromancers rarely messed with. The kind Hilda the expert had died trying to find out more about.

“But . . . this assignment. I thought it was engineered by the Wizard.”

Raoul nodded. “And yet, even seeds need nourishment to grow. So if I made a few suggestions as he dreamed . . . ” He shrugged. “You’re here. And yet we still walk a thin line. David’s soul is incredibly vulnerable. Freeing it could be the worst possible scenario. Because we believe —”

“Wait a minute. We? Who’s we? Does that include Asha Vasta? I mean, is he part of the we?” Because if he was, maybe he could help Dave if I crapped out on Raoul.

Raoul sat back, his eyes troubled. “What was the Amanha Szeya doing when you met him?”

“Talking me out of killing reavers.”

Raoul shook his head. “And so it goes.” He sighed. “Asha is not part of my — how would you understand it? — my regiment. The ‘we’ to which I was referring are the Eldhayr. Like you, we once lived as human beings. And now we fight to protect our kind. Asha was never human.”

“So how many of you Eldhayr are there?”

Raoul shook his head. “Some details are better left unknown.”

I recognized that face. That was the you-might-get-tortured-so-remain-ignorant-please expression Pete always got when he sent us into anti-American territories. “Okay. Fine. So did you tell your Eldhayr buddies what an excellent recruit Dave would make? He already thinks he’s working for you, so obviously he’s cool with the idea. Plus —”

Raoul held up a hand. “Jasmine, there is no need for the sales pitch. Of course we’ll invite your brother to join us if he can. But it won’t be as easy for him as it was for you.”

I gulped. When your Spirit Guide compares your neck-breaking experience to anything and calls it easy, his next news ain’t gonna be pretty.

“Why not?” I asked, clearing my throat to hide the quiver in my voice.

“We believe the problem is directly related to your last experience with the Magistrate. The fact that the scene was a concert was no coincidence.” He stopped. Said, almost to himself, “How to explain this so you’ll understand?”

So suddenly that it startled me, he jerked around to face me fully. “Since we’re in your dream, this shouldn’t hurt. Here.” He held his large, broad-fingered hands out to me. They made mine look like a little girl’s when I slid them into his. He closed his eyes for a second and I felt a tingle coupled with a sudden desire to throw him down on my couch and see just what hid under that starched blue shirt of his.

I pulled my hands away. “Oh, hey, that’s not fair!”

He grinned. “Relax, Jaz. It’s just chemistry, as you like to say. And I rearranged yours momentarily to help explain what I mean. That feeling you just had? Well, you felt it with Matt, didn’t you? And now it’s growing in you for Vayl. Am I right?”

“Uh.”

“Okay, too personal. But when you hold your niece or hug your sister, also there are good feelings, correct? Feelings of connection and belonging.”

Where the hell was he going with this? Should I take notes? “Sure,” I agreed.

He gave me a good-girl nod. So far I was getting an A in his class. “Those feelings are actually songs. Part of the music of the universe. Everyone has their own tune, and when they find someone whose music harmonizes well with theirs, a link is made. Sometimes for a few weeks. Sometimes forever.”

Okay, now I’m getting it

. “So when I go out-of-body, those golden cords that connect me to everybody I’m close to are . . . what?”

“The songs the two of you make as members of a relationship. They allow you to find each other across time and space. That’s one of the reasons why, when you die, your soul knows where to go.”

“And this has what to do with the Magistrate?” I asked.

Raoul dropped my hands. “While he had your cord frozen, his song was playing against all the songs of the cords connected to you. We believe you were right that he wants you to leave your body again. But not to lead him to us. We think he heard something unique in David’s tune. Something that makes him valuable as a prisoner of hell.”

I stared at my bland beige carpet, trying to put it all together in my head. “So you’re saying, as soon as we take the Wizard’s control away from Dave he dies again. But that leaves his soul vulnerable to the Magistrate.”

“Exactly.”

I met Raoul’s eyes, but the pity in them made me feel like bawling, so I went back to the carpet. When had I spilled Coke on it? “I can’t let my brother continue to be a zombie. He’d despise that. But I can’t let the Magistrate get him either. Well, this sucks like a frigging leech.”

“I agree.”

I leaned back on the couch. Switched my gaze to the ceiling. Boring white tiles that did not work to distract me like I’d hoped. “I’ll have to figure out a way to fight the Magistrate.”

“Not in this form,” Raoul reminded me. “You haven’t yet developed the ability.”

“Okay. There’s a couple reavers left. I could probably get one of them to deliver him a challenge. Have him meet me in Tehran. But he might kick my ass since Asha’s tears didn’t really give me the boost I was hoping for, physically speaking. Maybe Vayl —”

“Jasmine, the Magistrate is

nefralim

. That means the only way he can enter your world is to be summoned. Wait, what did you say?” asked Raoul. His voice, sharp with command, caused me to sit up straight like when I was seven, at the dinner table, and Albert had just ordered me to finish my lima beans.

“Well, Vayl’s kind of pissed that I didn’t tell him about Asha right away. But he’ll probably be over it by sundown. If he takes my blood again maybe I’ll —”

Raoul shook his head so hard I thought I heard his eyeballs rattle. “No. No, before that. Did Asha share his tears with you?”

“Actually, I kind of had to guilt them out of him. And then they burned. And then nothing. Except I did see this flaming door, which Vayl said was a plane portal. I didn’t learn much more about it because Cole called to say a guy was threatening to kill our people, so we had to get back to the house. And then Vayl was mad at me about the Asha thing. So . . . what was your question?”

Raoul smacked a hand on his thigh. “That may be the answer.”

“Okay.” I waited, and when no information was immediately forthcoming said, “Raoul. Spill. Before I have to beat you. Which I’m kind of sure is a major sin.”

“Asha’s tears have given you the ability to see the portals. But more than that, they have allowed you to step through them. Into neutral territory.” He was leaning so far forward he looked like he was preparing to take off, as if he’d just received an emergency call that required his unique skills. “This means you can meet the Magistrate physically. Anywhere. You can fight him using your abilities. Your weapons. All right, not the gun. But definitely the sword.” He looked at me, gave a sharp decisive nod. “You could beat him.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

I

woke with the afternoon sun slanting through the windows, feeling as if I hadn’t slept at all. But also as prepared as I’d ever be to face an opponent who might well kill me.

Cassandra and Grace still snoozed on their pallets, giving me the chance to sneak my new toys into the bathroom without having to deal with a lot of diversionary tactics. Once Raoul had given me the correct words to say, I’d made a physical trip to his headquarters during the post-dawn hours of the morning using the portal I’d seen while walking with Vayl.

Beyond the fact that I was actually alive this time or, well, as near as I’d ever get to it again — nothing much had changed from the way I remembered his place. The suite made me feel underdressed in my shapeless black manteau and pants. At least I matched the bar stools to the right of the front door, which lined up neatly under a sleek black counter backed by a mirror that ran the length and width of the wall behind it. But I looked like I should be running a vacuum over the plush white couches, arranged just as I recalled in the center of a room made even more elaborate by white satin curtains and marble floors with rich pink veins. In the back corner of the room, a lovely ivory dining set with six high-backed cushioned chairs completed the mood.

Raoul had been standing by the bar when I walked into the room. “How was your trip?” he asked politely. “Any problems?”

“No. Should there have been?”

He smirked. “With you, I’m never sure. May I take your coat?”

“Please.” I shucked the awful thing, watched him hang it on the elaborately curved black wall rack by the door. “That’s one depressing piece of clothing,” I told him. “Makes me feel like a mortician.”

“Well, I think I know just how to lift your spirits.”

He led me past the bar and the dining table toward a door I assumed led to the bedroom. It didn’t. It was a hall. A long one that, as we walked it, branched into several others, making me wonder just how big Raoul’s penthouse really was. The door we finally stopped at looked no different from any of the others. Rimmed with elaborate white molding it held the kind of lock you expect to see in a hotel. But Raoul didn’t slide a card into the slot. He leaned down, pulled a knife out of his boot, and quickly slashed his forearm. Gathering a generous amount of blood on the blade, he then transferred it to the lock, letting it drip the whole length of the slot. When the light turned green, he opened the door.

“That’s some security system you’ve got there. I’m guessing you don’t access this room very often.”

He sent me a smile over his shoulder. “Since I met you I’m doing all kinds of things I haven’t done for years.”

He was right about the room cheering me up. When you’re in my biz and you walk into an arsenal, something inside you springs to its feet and starts yelling, “Yipee!” The place could’ve come straight out of a medieval castle. Swords, axes, lances, spears, anything that could hold a blade and prove fatal graced three and a half walls of a room roughly the size of Raoul’s living space. The last half held built-in drawers, which I soon discovered held armor. But this was modern. Stuff you could wear under your day clothes, probably even move comfortably in. And yet I imagined it outperformed even Bergman’s famous dragon armor, which, since we’d rescued it from its kidnappers on our last mission, was still undergoing testing at White Sands.

The armory’s floor space had been kept completely clear. For sparring? I kind of thought I was about to find out. Raoul strode across the battered wooden floor to one corner of the room, lifted from its moorings a sheath holding a curved blade similar to the one I’d been clutching in my dream. Prophetic, huh?

“This shamshir was forged by an Amanha Szeya,” he told me as he pulled it free and handed me a shining silver blade that felt like it had been made for my hand. As I marveled at the balance he said, “That means it can kill a

nefralim

.”

He moved to the drawers next, taking from them a suit of black body armor. It weighed almost nothing. But Raoul assured me it could stop a bullet, though the force of the impact would still throw me to the ground. “Not that you have to worry about that from the Magistrate. It’s the cut of his whip from which the suit will protect you. I fear, however, you may still feel its sting.”

I could’ve said something cocky at that moment like, “I’m no stranger to pain.” While true, it just seemed stupid to throw fastballs at karma, knowing how much she enjoyed shooting them right back at you. So I just nodded my thanks.

“How good are you at swordplay?” Raoul asked as he took a blade similar to mine off the wall.

“Better than I used to be.” Having nearly lost major body parts to Desmond Yale, I’d spent the time I could spare between missions honing my skills. That meant two hours a day with the best coach I could find.

Vayl was a patient teacher, but a strict one. By the end of week one I was sick of hearing “Watch your form.”

“Vayl,” I said once, wiping sweat out of my eyes in exasperation. “What the hell? I’m not training for the Olympics here!” Here was the gym a retired agent owned and allowed us to rent during his off-hours.

When I saw red spark in his eyes, I realized I’d pissed him off. But I didn’t much care at that point. I was hot, sweaty, and, yeah, frustrated that it wasn’t for any of the fun reasons. Never mind that it had been my choice. And that I should respect Vayl for giving me the space I thought I needed.

Having no idea as to the real source of my unspoken frustrations, Vayl addressed my vocalized ones. “Correct form allows you to find the balance you need to fight. It keeps you from tiring too quickly. And it prevents you from telegraphing your moves long before you make them.”

“Oh.”

Vayl and I had never fought with curved blades, but I figured the basics he’d taught me would still serve me well. I stood en garde and moments later Raoul and I were hard at it. Every minute or so he’d stop. Say something like, “Look, if you’d turned the blade this way you could have disarmed me on that swing.” He showed me some moves unique to the blade, and within half an hour I felt like I’d been born with it in my hand.

“You’re a fast learner,” Raoul said when he finally called for a stop.

“It’s more of a defense mechanism than anything else,” I replied as I sheathed the blade. “Since my parents were my first teachers, and things always escalated to yelling if we didn’t catch on fast, we figured out quick how to listen and learn.”

I saw the thought on Raoul’s face, though he was kind enough not to say it out loud.

No wonder your mother’s in hell

. Yeah. And he didn’t even know the half of it.

“Get your armor,” he said. “I have one more item to give you before you go.” I grabbed my goodies and followed him to the Charm room.

It resembled a jewelry store, with multiple racks of necklaces, bracelets, and enough other sparklies to keep a serious accessorizer busy for days. He took me straight to the back, where a locked glass display case backed in red velvet held some fine old pieces. As he unlocked it he said, “You must remember never to let the Magistrate touch you. We’re not sure how he managed to pull you out of your body the first time, but we know it was at great expense, both in terms of power and time. That’s why he’ll want you to do most of the work yourself the second time around. Since you haven’t willingly left your body, he’ll find a way to trigger that exodus if he can. But he won’t be able to if he can’t physically touch you.”

“Or kill me.”

Raoul gave me a you-could-have-gone-all-day-without-saying-that look. “Obviously.” He pulled a delicate, octagonal bluish white stone out of the case and handed it to me.

“It’s gorgeous,” I said.

“It’s best worn near the center of your body,” he replied. “In ages past, men and women wore it on a long chain beneath their clothing. But since you have a rather convenient piercing, I took the liberty of mounting it for you.”

“Cool!” As I replaced the gold stud I currently wore in my navel, I said, “What’s it do?”

“It protects the soul during flight. It will shield you from any sort of attack the Magistrate may launch should the worst happen.”

“Thanks. Really.”

Raoul nodded. “I wish I could do more.” He stopped. Shook his head. Looked at me through hooded eyes that said,

If I were the man I should be, I would do more

.

“Rules are rules,” I said simply. “I don’t understand them all yet. I don’t agree with half of them when they’re explained to me. But I know sometimes they’re all that separate me from the guys Pete sends me after.” I gave him the straight stare he’d earned. “I appreciate your help. But I don’t expect you to do my work for me. Or to stick your neck out so far it snaps.” Okay, considering the way I’d died the first time, maybe that was the wrong metaphor. We looked at each other for another three seconds. And then we both smiled.