Bitten to Death

Chapter Fifteen

When I returned to the sitting room the men had stopped talking. It felt like they’d been waiting for me.

“What?” I asked.

“I would like to speak to Blas,” said Vayl. “Can you take me to the place where you found him?”

I shrugged. “Sure. But I doubt he’s still there. I got the feeling he was hiding from them as much as I was.”

“Perhaps, then, you could follow his scent?”

“I can try.” I wasn’t holding out much hope though. With camouflage like his, I’d be more likely to pick up a physical clue.

As we walked toward the door I realized Dave wasn’t with us. “You’re staying?” I asked over my shoulder.

“Yeah.” That was it. No other explanation. I swallowed the surge of panic that wanted to jump out and start screaming, “Don’t go searching for liquor! You don’t need to get blasted! Help’s on the way!”

I said, “Okay.” I turned to go. And then it hit me. One of those evil thoughts siblings get because, well, that’s what we do. Looking over my shoulder I said, “You know, since you have some free time, maybe you could . . . never mind.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s just that, all those extra calories you’ve been drink—I mean—not burning off have kind of settled on your gut. I didn’t want to mention anything,” I said as Dave’s hand stole to his midsection. “But the general pointed out that you’d lost a few steps training-wise.” I laughed and waved my hand. “I’m sure it’s nothing switching to light beer won’t cure.”

“I am sure Jasmine is right,” Vayl said from behind me. “Cassandra told me once she likes her men pudgy. Something about more to love?”

We left Dave trying to pinch an inch off his battle-hardened frame. As soon as we were out of earshot I said, “So, do you want to give me odds?”

“On which side are you betting?” asked Vayl.

“I’m putting two bucks on the Special Ops commander to do push-ups and squat thrusts the whole time we’re gone.”

Vayl’s lips quirked. “You are a devious woman.”

“Whatever it takes.”

I led Vayl to the closet, which, as I’d expected, was empty. He crouched by the open door. “Blas was just sitting here when you walked in?”

“Yeah. But I’m not sure he came through the same door. There’s another opening.” I showed him the one I’d found during my claustrophobic search. It looked crude, the sides curvy, the edges uneven. Definitely not a planned part of the architecture.

“So did he exit by it?” Vayl asked.

I spent some time in the doorway before crawling into the closet, closing my eyes to better focus my extra sense. “Yeah, I think so.”

Vayl dropped to his knees beside me. “Then let us go after him.”

Vayl’s shoulders would fit comfortably on a linebacker. Or a Brahma bull. No way could we share that space without rubbing up against each other in ways that felt uncomfortably intimate. Suddenly the closet shrank like tight jeans in a hot wash.

I leaned back, trying to get some air, but it didn’t help. It just gave me a better view of his broad back tapering down to a lovely, firm—I cleared my throat. “Is it hot in here? Are you hot? I think their heating system is definitely on the fritz.”

Vayl smirked at me. “I will go first, shall I?” He reached forward, pushed the door until it came free and fell into the next room, giving him the space he needed to crawl through the opening it left. While I, well, all I really did was ogle until his legs were through. I only snapped out of it when he said, “Jasmine, get in here,” with a sense of urgency that forced me to roll up my tongue and scramble after him.

Vayl had flipped the light switch, activating the wall sconces, but still my feeling was of emerging into a cavern that smelled of must and cobwebs. Since I was trained to find exits upon entering a new area, that’s where my eyes traveled. But no traditional doors or windows broke the lines of plastered walls that had cracked and yellowed with age and dirt.

A layer of gray dust shaded the dark blue carpet, which showed footprints that meandered around the stone sarcophagus that dominated the room. Okay, so this was where Blas slept during the day. I could tell by the scent he’d left, even though it was so faint it read like he hadn’t snoozed there in weeks. I turned to ask Vayl what had concerned him when he put one finger to his lips and pointed to the back of the room.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Rarely did I have to activate the contact lenses Bergman had made me anymore, since my Sensitivity had honed itself to the point where I could almost see in the dark. But still, they gave me that extra little oomph I sometimes needed to make out—What the hell is that!

My mind flipped through its normal files first. Scarecrow? Suit of armor with its arms outstretched?

Think again, Jaz.

Don’t wanna.

Go ahead. Step closer. Take a hard look. Yep, that’s it. I obeyed the voice in my head because it was the one that spoke to me when I pulled the trigger. Something soothing about the clipped rhythm, that icy tone. No fear in a voice that spent so much time straddling the grave.

I shivered. I wasn’t sure what scared me more—myself, or the moment. “It’s a body,” I whispered.

“I think it has been hung from the ceiling. Like a marionette. Look at all the wires,” Vayl replied, his voice as muted as my own.

I pulled Grief, pressing the magic button as I felt Vayl raise his powers. We approached the body from either side of the sarcophagus, moving deliberately, our eyes sweeping the room every few seconds for surprises.

“What’s on its head?” I whispered. I wanted to reach across Blas’s stone bed, grab Vayl’s hand, and hang on until he assured me we were having a mutual nightmare.

“Hat?” he guessed.

“That’s a funky-shaped—” Then I stopped talking. Because the hat unrolled its legs and perched them on the body’s shoulders. It made a horrible sucking sound.

No hat, my mind shrilled. No hat, because no head for it to sit on. It’s a—what the fuck is that? The creature scuttled down the neck and perched on the chest like an enormous throbbing tie tack.

“Shit!” I jumped up onto the sarcophagus in a single bound. Superman would’ve been proud. Of course he probably wouldn’t have missed when he squeezed off a bolt, but then he always was too perfect for my taste.

“Forget the crossbow!” Vayl yelled as he filled the room with frost. “That is a grall. Bullets, Jasmine, and now!”

I reversed my Walther’s load as I reviewed what I knew about the grall, all of it book-learned because this was the first one I’d met up close and personal. Adults the size of a volleyball, and where you saw one, since they were hermaphroditic, you usually had at least a dozen young infesting the place too. They moved like lightning on six hair-covered legs the color of cranberry sauce. A light shell covered most of their crab-shaped bodies, but in the middle, multiple portions stuck through the carapace like thick, fleshy antennae. Though these were vulnerable areas, they also allowed the grall to attach themselves through a set of dagger-sharp teeth to any living creature. And here was the funky part. They didn’t just suck out blood. They took secrets. And if you gave the grall the right kind of offering later on, you could get those secrets for yourself.

I took aim. The creature had frozen to its victim’s chest, like an opossum that thought playing dead might buy it an escape. Holding my breath, I fired. At the last second the grall dodged, its squeal of pain letting me know I’d hit it, but probably not fatally. Most of the bullet seemed to have lodged in the corpse.

Vayl kicked something that bounced off the wall with a high-pitched squeal. “There are young!”

“Get up here!” I yelled. “I’m less likely to hit you that way.”

He leaped up beside me. “What I would give for my cane right now!”

“Grab my bolo!” His hand slid into my right pocket. My body responded with a wow-baby! thrill that I did my best to ignore as I blasted a couple of the offspring into meat chunks. Vayl’s chilling of the room had slowed them more than it had the parent, which had taken refuge on the wall behind the body.

As Vayl released the knife from my pocket sheath, I scanned the floor and walls for movement. Nothing. I turned to Vayl, preparing to ask if he’d ever heard of such a small litter, when something fell past my face, slashing my cheek as it went. As I looked up I felt a weight hit me in the middle of the back. “Vayl, they’re on the ceiling!”

He stabbed upward, impaling one on his knife.

“Check my back! My back!” I yelled, turning so he could see.

“Hold still!” I heard the air scream past the blade as he slashed at the creature trying to chew its way through the leather of my jacket. As soon as I heard the piece plop to the stone at my feet I gave Grief free rein. Only when I paused to reload did I hear Vayl grunt in pain.

I looked over. He was surrounded by grall corpses. But one had dropped on him while he was busy with the others and dug in just behind his right ear. Before I could react, he ripped it off his head, throwing it against the wall so hard it splatted like a bug on a windshield. Blood ran down the back of his neck, making the four remaining young shriek with hunger.

These were smarter than their brothers/sisters. They’d realized the ceiling offered no protection and had taken cover behind the two glass lamps that provided light for the room. I’d thought we’d have to get up close and personal to pick them off. But Vayl’s scent had drawn them out.

I took a second to glance at the body. Nope. The parent knew better than to leave its hidey-hole. Okay, fine. We’ll take out your disgusting little juniors first.

They came at us in a rush. I took out one before the rest were on us. Vayl stabbed another as it hit the stone between his feet. The remaining two leaped at his throat, squealing as they closed on their goal. Since Vayl was too close to risk a shot, I threw a jump kick that nailed one of the beasts square in the back, sending it flying into the ceiling. When it flopped to the ground I shot it twice. I’d have gotten it clean on the first try, but part of my focus switched to Vayl, who caught the last one on the end of the knife, impaling it like a spitted pig.

We gave each other a satisfied nod and turned to the hanging corpse. “Whose remains do you think?” I asked.

Vayl touched his neck gingerly, grimaced at the sticky on his hands, and replied, “I cannot be certain, of course. But the ring on his pinky is quite unique. I would guess it is Hamon’s.”

“What? No! Hamon lost his head. Which means the rest of him would’ve gone bye-bye. That’s how it works with you guys.”

“That is how it usually works,” Vayl contradicted. “One exception would be if you had a grall attached to your body at the time you were decapitated. In which case it would not dissipate.”

“The grall has that kind of power?”

“Yes. Because some secrets could still be drawn from your blood, your organs, even your bones.”

I eyed the corpse, its ruffled cravat and rust-colored suit coat stained with the blood of the head that had once completed it. “Bullshit.”

“What do you call forensic pathology?” asked Vayl.

“That’s different!”

“So speaks the woman with a Spirit Eye, a Spirit Guide, and a tendency to rise from the dead.”

Smartass. “Say I buy your explanation.” Which I think I’m going to have to, dammit. “Does that mean I can’t kill the adult? I mean, if Blas set it on Hamon to suck out his secrets, do you need to know what they are now?”

“I think we can surmise what Blas needed to know without risking our lives any further.”

“Really?”

“Certainly. Blas obviously lied to you. He was the one who wanted Hamon’s authority. Or perhaps he and Disa both wanted it. But it is a powerful position, and ascendance requires secret knowledge to which only Hamon had access. If I had challenged and beaten him, he would have been forced to hand that knowledge over to me. Blas and Disa obviously found another route. But something went wrong, either before or during the coup, and she turned on him.”

“So I can shoot the creepy crawler?”

“Be my guest.”

Finally, good news. Should we celebrate? If I backed up a step Vayl would be pressed against me like a winter coat. Maybe, if I killed the grall, he’d even be in the mood to forgive me for returning Cirilai. Which I was beginning to think I wanted back. I gave myself a mental shake. This is why you shouldn’t hook up with your boss, Jaz. So distracting when you’re trying to concentrate on the job.

I considered the situation for a moment. If the adult hadn’t moved at the prospect of fresh, vulnerable food, it obviously meant to stay put until we left. Or forced it into action. “Somebody’s going to have to get that body jiggling.”

This is going to be so gross. The stuff of nightmares, actually.

“I will do it.” He stepped forward.

“Don’t!” I realized I’d laid my hand on his chest and he was looking down at me, his lips inches from my own. “I . . . it’s just, the grall’s so fast. Speedy enough to take a vamp like Hamon off guard, right?”

“Why, Jasmine, you act as if you care.”

“I . . .” Aaargh!

“Never mind. I have another plan. Give me your belt.” I did as he asked, watched him connect mine to his and then loop one end of the resulting rope around the hilt of the knife. “Ready?” he asked.

I steadied myself and raised Grief. “Yeah.”

Walking to the edge of the sarcophagus, he held one end of the belt rope in his left hand while he balanced the blade of my knife in the other. His throw, strong and true, buried it in the corpse’s thigh. Using careful side-to-side movements, Vayl got the corpse to move. Unfortunately the wire it hung from had some give in it, so it also began to bounce.

“Vayl, this is not a pleasant moment for me,” I confessed.

“No?”

“Locked in a windowless, doorless room with a dancing, headless corpse and a secret sucker that can move fast enough to tear us both a new one if I miss?”

Vayl took a second to ponder. “Think of the body as what Pinocchio would have looked like if he had lied to the Mob.”

“That’s so not funny.”

“Then why are you chuckling?”

“God, we are so warped. And the grall?”

“An amoral gossip that must be silenced before it can spread the word that Santa subcontracts much of his work out to the Chinese.”

“I love Santa.”

“Then take the shot.”

I narrowed my eyes. There it was. Crouched behind the body’s left hip, appearing every third jiggle and bounce, its antennae waving like wrinkled fingers as it tried to figure out what the hell its cover was up to now.

I raised the gun. Took my time. Made the rhythm part of my breathing. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three—bam!

The grall dropped to the floor. As it began to writhe I shot it again. And again.

“Jasmine?”

“Yeah?”

“I believe it is dead now.”

I looked up at Vayl. “That’s what you get when you malign Santa.”

He nodded gravely. “Indeed.”