Bitten to Death

Chapter Twenty

I murmured a swift apology to sun-drenched Patras. Someday I’ll come back when I have time to savor your spectacular scenery, your ancient landmarks, your charming restaurants. But right now—“Jesus, Dave, could you hit another bump, please? I’m sure Vayl won’t mind coming out of this trip with a double concussion.”

Why the hell didn’t I drive? I’m so much better at it than this dumbf—

Because your brother needs to feel useful! Granny May snapped. Now quit complaining and act your damn age!

Why are all the voices in my head so annoying? Couldn’t I, just once, channel someone nice?

Mr. Rogers is booked through the millennium, growled Granny May. Inward sigh.

“How’re you doing, Vayl?” I glanced into the back of the minibus we’d stolen from the Trust. Vayl’s light-impermeable tent took up the space where we’d lowered the backseat. “I am fine,” came his muffled voice.

My twin and I traded looks, still slightly dazed from our initial discovery. It takes a while to get used to the fact that your vampire boss has not gone down for the day and, as a result, must be watched like an escaped convict.

At just after eight in the morning we’d outfitted ourselves for the trip to town and decided a couple of small fires would be the ideal distraction for the Trust’s human occupants. Something to keep them occupied while we joined up with Trayton. I was working up a smoking rage when Vayl opened the bedroom door. Like a couple of executives whose lackey has just walked in late, Dave and I checked our watches.

“Well, stop staring at me as if I had just grown a tail,” Vayl said irritably. “I cannot seem to sleep.”

“But . . . dawn was over an hour ago,” I said.

“Do you think I am not aware of that?”

Dave walked up to Vayl and began studying him like he was a rare specimen just flown in from the Salk Institute. He said, “Bergman is going to be so pissed he wasn’t here for this.” He glanced at me and sobered instantly. “Of course it’s bad. Vampires have to sleep during the day. The ones I’ve heard about who were forced to stay awake have committed some of the worst atrocities known to the species.”

“All of them?” I demanded.

“Well, the ones who escaped.”

“Who has been experimenting on vampires?” Vayl demanded, the threat clear in his voice.

Dave shrugged. “Mostly other vamps. You people have some weird-science guys in your ranks, you know that? One of our units came across a mad tester called Frilam in the sixties who found a way to ‘deny the day-death,’ as he called it. But when he did, the vamps wigged out. Usually in a rip-the-skin-from-the-skeleton kind of way.”

I went to Vayl. Smiled up into his stormy blue eyes. “Hey, if you decide to tear up the town, you can always use the leftover bread from my breakfast in place of your cane. I’m pretty sure it’s hard enough to bust heads.”

To my relief his lips quirked. “You seem unconcerned, considering your own potential for danger. Given the situation, I mean.”

“What situation? So you’re awake. Big whoop. If you get grumpy we’ll sic the dog on you.”

Vayl lowered his voice. “I can feel the Trust’s power, Jasmine. Disa is squeezing it into and through me. That is why I walk when I should sleep. I am holding on to my control, but I can feel its edge now.”

I gulped. “Would it help, uh, if I gave you some of my blood?”

Vayl’s eyes changed to red so suddenly I felt dizzy. “Yes.” He licked his lips. “However, I fear I would not be able to stop myself in time.”

“Have you eaten today?”

“Yes.”

Whew. “Most vamps, I wouldn’t give them a chance in a hurricane to get through this,” I whispered. “But I believe in you.”

He pulled back. Straightened as his eyes bled to brown. “Then I will endeavor not to disappoint.”

Now, as Dave hit another bump, I decided Vayl’s brain damage may have started before the trip. Possibly around the time he ripped Disa. But my brother’s driving wasn’t improving his chances at recovery. “Seriously, are you trying to lobotomize the undead guy?” I demanded.

“I am fine,” Vayl called.

My neck was beginning to ache from craning to see. “Are you okay?” I asked Trayton, who lay on the seat behind me.

“I’ve been better,” he said.

“Did you hear that, Dave?” I snapped. “The werewolf’s been better. Have a heart, will ya?”

“Well, it’s tough to concentrate with somebody yapping in my ear!”

“I’m not a poodle, you inconsiderate jerk! Did you remember the camera?”

“Of course—do I look like a fool to you? Lean forward, like, an inch. Now look at me. It’s hanging from a strap around my frigging neck, ya doink!”

“Well, I couldn’t tell. Your jacket’s in the way!” At least it wasn’t camouflage. He’d chosen a button-down brown suede over a navy blue mock turtleneck and faded jeans. But no way in hell was I gonna tell him how great he looked, especially when he said, “Boy, they really sharpen your observation skills in the CIA, Sis. So impressed with your trainers, lemme tell you. Speaking of which, what the hell is with this piece of crap equipment? Nobody with a clue about photography is going to buy my cover if they get a close enough look at this camera.”

“You know what, next time we’ll risk turning your thousand-dollar Nikon into a really heavy necklace if our plan unravels and somebody puts a bullet through it.”

“At least we’d get some good shots before it all went to shit!”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Trayton said, “I’ll bet they fought like this growing up.”

“All the time,” Vayl confirmed.

“How would you know?” I demanded.

“Okay, everybody just shut up so I can hear the directions to Samos’s place!” Dave roared.

We lapsed into silence, resentful on my part because I hated having to whisper so the car could be heard. But, as the navigational system’s smooth anchor-woman voice rapped out left and right turns, taking us ever closer to Samos’s hotel, I had to admit it was better than the bad-old days, sitting in the back of the smelly station wagon between Evie and Dave, trying to pretend I cared about Barbie and Ken’s latest fling while I read Dave’s X-Men comic over his shoulder and Albert and Stella fought over the enormous map she had unfolded across her lap.

It always seemed miraculous to me that we ever got where we wanted to go, considering that she could never find the highway we were on, and he tended to navigate by sound. That is, he’d say, “Chippewa Falls, that sounds interesting, let’s go.” And he’d squeal those retreads across four lanes of traffic to get us to a trickle of water running down a rust-colored rock face beside a diner full of truckers and prostitutes. They always had great pumpkin pie though.

“What do you think of my city?” asked Trayton.

“It’s nice,” I said.

He leaned forward, poking me in the shoulder so I’d turn around. “Have you even looked?”

“Not really,” I confessed. “I’ve been kind of distracted.”

Grasping both front seats with his hands, he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. “Come on, take a peek. You and I are going to have to party before you leave, and I want you to have some idea what the place looks like before I get you so hammered you can’t even see straight.” He began to grin. “Had you there for a second, didn’t I?”

I let my hands fall into my lap. Did he realize how close I’d come to shaking him for even suggesting such a stupid idea when he could barely move? “Do you even know what hammered means?” I asked.

“Something to do with drinking your American beer out of a hole in the side of the can?”

Dave reached back and slapped him on the shin. “Close enough.”

“Shut up,” I told my brother. Turning back to Trayton I said, “So you’ve lived in Patras all your life?”

“Yes. We natives call it Patra.”

“Oh.” I looked out the window.

“So . . . what is your impression?”

“It’s a huge city, yeah? Lots of multistory apartment buildings, flat roofs, balconies everywhere, most of them covered in plants. You guys must really have the gardening bug. And always there on the horizon that beautiful blue ocean. Makes the buildings seem like they’re only squished together temporarily, like a big crowd waiting for the beach to open.”

“Traffic sucks,” Dave volunteered. “It’s like the signs are more suggestions than actual rules.”

Trayton laughed. “That’s how we get where we want to go so quickly.”

We drove past a wide plaza marked by an enormous stone arch so ancient it was easy to imagine curtain-draped Grecians lounging around beneath it, trading the latest god gossip while their slaves pulled off the major chores at market. But now, at nearly nine in the morning, it shaded only a few businesswomen headed to work in dark, tailored coats and high heels.

As the minibus announced, “Hotel Olympia,” Trayton practically stood on his head in his effort to see between the front seats and over the dashboard.

The hotel, a twenty-floor high-rise built recently enough to still shine in the sun, shared the block with an ivy-drenched coffee-house and a nightclub called Dio’s, its darkened neon sign making it look as hungover as its previous night’s patrons probably felt.

“Is this where we’re meeting the pack?” asked Trayton.

I said, “Nope. That’s at some old cemetery. I take it we can be more easily overwhelmed there if we decide to double cross them.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Ask them.”

“Krios is such a paranoid old gnawbones.”

“Which is probably why he’s still the alpha.”

“So why’re we here?”

“We’re helping the Trust with some negotiations here later this evening,” I lied. “We just wanted to take a look at the place before we get to business. Never hurts to be prepared.”

Dave pulled into a vacant space across the street as Trayton snorted in disbelief. “If you’re negotiators, I’m a pussycat,” he drawled. “I can smell the oil on your guns from here. Plus, we predators have a way of recognizing fellow hunters.”

I sighed dramatically. “I believe your near-death experience may have temporarily affected your senses.”

“Come on, Lucille. Whatever you’re up to, let me help. I owe you”—he raised his hands, trying to express the capacity with his outstretched fingers—“well, everything.”

“Vayl?” I asked.

“I will let you decide this one,” he said after a moment’s thought. “Only you can determine who deserves your trust.”

Suddenly I felt like I was about to take a big final. And I hadn’t studied. Plus my alarm hadn’t gone off, so I’d missed the first hour. Dammit!

I twisted in my seat so I could fully face the werewolf who’d wormed his way past my defenses. And, that easy, I knew. This creature, who’d barely left boyhood, was someone I could lean my life on. “Honestly, it’s not that big a deal. We just need to borrow a guy’s dog for a while.” I cleared my throat. “Without his permission. But then we’re giving it back.” What, after you kill him? Has this mission totally separated you from reality? If you intend to off Samos you’re going to have to find Ziel a new owner. One who’s not a complete tool. You know that, right? Right?

Suddenly Trayton was all business. “I can help with that. For instance, I can keep him calm after you take him. Because wolves and dogs can communicate.”

“At what level?” I asked, thinking so fast my tongue could barely keep up with my brain. “Could you, say, give him commands? Like, don’t bite the nice redheaded lady? Or could you—oh, this would be ideal! Could you direct him to a certain location?”

“Not in so many words. I could call him, though. And if he’s running without a pack, he’d be likely to come.”

“He’s alone. That is, he has a master, but that guy’s down for the day. So there’s only a human handler. No other dogs.” I began to get excited. “And he’s big. Like, a hundred and forty pounds. So he could pretty much insist on going anywhere he pleased, and I don’t think his handler would deny him. Samos would be too pissed if he found out the dog had been mistreated. Like, killer pissed. Yeah, this just might have a chance.”

I spoke to the rest of my team. “What do you think, guys? Should we try the plan now?”

Dave checked me out. I already wore the white sundress with red trim and matching jacket we’d decided would be best for this gig. Grief remained hidden in its shoulder holster and my .38 was strapped to my thigh, but I shouldn’t need them. Today my weapons would be the aerosol cans in the black bag at my feet and the lacy red parasol lying across my lap. He said, “I’m ready if you are.”

I nodded. “Vayl?”

“Go ahead.”

I pulled my phone out of the bag and called the hotel desk. “Hello, this is Angelina from the Patra chapter of PETA. Yes, that is the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. You catch on fast. We understand one of your guests has a malamute that has not been walked properly since they checked in. If that animal is not exercised, and we mean at least twice daily, we will have to take very public, loud, and obnoxious action. Am I understood? Very well.” I hung up. “Now we wait.”

“How can you be sure they haven’t already walked the dog?” asked Trayton.

“Dave came down and put cameras on the hotel last night. We have a way of monitoring them from anywhere we happen to be. Nobody’s left that suite since dawn.” I glanced at Trayton. “How much distance can you make your sound carry?”

“A couple of blocks.”

“Good. Dave, as soon as you see them—”

“I know the drill.”

“Fine. Then you can repeat it back to me.”

He blew an impatient breath through his teeth. But he said, “I pull out. Stay ahead of them. Lead them to the fortress. Kastro. Whatever the hell these people call that massive ruin on the hill. Where we move into the second stage of our dastardly plan. Do you need to know every little detail of that too, or have you committed it to memory?”

“I’m clear.”

While we waited, I decided to check my messages. As I’d suspected, another one had come from Cole.

Mark’s travel plans delayed him until tomorrow. But guess who showed instead? Cam! Small world, yes? After I catch some z’s we’re hitting the town. Wonder if we should warn the mayor.

I looked quickly at Dave, but he was watching the entrance. And I didn’t want to get into it with him again by asking what his strong right arm was doing globe-trotting when he should be working. So I sent back a message.

Don’t destroy anything you can’t afford to replace. Also tell Cam Dave needs to talk. A lot. Start draining the Wizard out of his system. So if he wants to lend an ear when they’re back together, great.

We only had to wait a few more minutes, then out the front door trotted an enormous dog. If I hadn’t already known, I never would’ve guessed this tail-wagging, ear-twitching monstrosity was Samos’s one vulnerability. Ziel had a white face, chest, underbelly, and legs. Otherwise his coat was gray. He wore a studded harness, which kinda made him look like he was into doggy S and M, and his tongue practically dragged the ground. Honest to God, it looked like he was grinning. His black, intelligent eyes regarded the just-waking city, with its charming antique lampposts, enormous palms, and urns of flowing red bougainvillea, as if he had a master plan and everything was going according to it.

He was towing a guy with hair so blond I had to strain to be sure he had eyebrows. Not a happy camper, but cooperating with the dog’s wishes so far.

Dave started the minibus and rolled down the window. He said, “Go ahead, Trayton.”

“I am.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“Quit talking to him,” I said. “He’s doing something.” Exactly what, I couldn’t be sure. The Were’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, his throat tightening as if he was emitting noises. But if anything escaped his lips and flew out the window, it certainly didn’t register in my ears. Ziel felt different. He leaped forward, yanking at the leash so hard he made his handler stumble.

Dave took his cue and pulled into traffic. We had, maybe, a mile to drive to get to the Byzantine fortress used for the defense of Patras from the sixth century right up to World War II. That meant a big commitment on the parts of Trayton and Ziel. But loyalty seemed bred into their bones.

Dave drove up steep streets lined with flower-bedecked pastry shops and small cafés whose raven-haired owners were just opening the umbrellas on their outdoor tables, to a spot where the sun-bleached ramparts and towers of the Kastro rose above the well-tended lawns, shrubs, and palms that surrounded it. Traffic was thick enough that our pace didn’t annoy anyone. And within fifteen minutes we were parking in the lot provided for tourists and local history buffs.

I handed my twin one of the aerosol cans, took the other for myself, and opened the door. As Trayton began to follow me out, I held up my hand to stop him. “There’s no room in this plan for a recovering werewolf. You’ve done your part. Now stay in here where it’s relatively safe. If you get hurt again there’s no way I’ll be able to explain before Krios bites my head off.” Literally. Ouch. What a nasty way to go.

Though he looked disappointed, Trayton had the grace to sink back into his spot. “I understand.”

Dave and I paused by the car to spray each other.

“Ugh! This stuff stinks!” I declared. “It’s like how those African buffalo must smell. You know, the ones on National Geographic specials that have poop all over their butts and spend half their day snorting bugs out their noses?”

“What the hell did Bergman put in this stuff?” Dave wondered.

“We can ask, but you know he’ll just shrug. No way is he going to give up his favorite chocolate cake recipe, much less the ingredients to his unleash-the-mongrel spray.”

“Point taken.”

We walked around the Kastro, feeling it loom over our shoulders like a sleeping dragon as we sought the approach Ziel and his walker would take as pedestrians. There it was. A steep concrete stair with a stone railing on one side and a series of fancy cement banisters on the other looked intimidating enough that older folks might decide to take the route Dave and I had chosen instead. A couple of fiftyish, black-mustached men wearing flat gray caps loitered near the bottom, breakfasting from Styrofoam cups before beginning their day’s work. Beyond them the buildings and streets stretched out in a sensible grid right to the gulf, where we could see a ferry chugging off toward Corfu.

Dave began taking pictures of me, with the Kastro providing a stellar background, which was why I’d dressed up in the first place. To an outsider we looked like a photographer and a model, trying to get in some quality shots before we lost the light. We’d thought we’d have to wait until much later for this. Drop Trayton off and then stake out the hotel until Ziel decided he needed to pee. At which point we’d place ourselves downwind of his route and let him come running. This method was so much better though. It made me wonder if taking similar risks with my heart might pay off in the same immensely satisfying way.

Less than five minutes later the dog arrived, still leading Samos’s man so strongly that if the guy had been on Rollerblades he wouldn’t have had to put any effort into his progress at all. As they began to mount the steps, we moved our poses to the same area, working ourselves into position well before they reached the top.

My back was to the steps, the parasol leaning prettily on my shoulder, so Dave gave me a play-by-play. “I think Ziel has smelled us,” he whispered. “Blondie’s having a hard time controlling him. The dog’s trying to take the steps ten at a time. Can you hear the guy yelling at him?”

“Yeah. What language is that?”

“Sounds like German. They’re almost to the top. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

I closed the umbrella, pulling it tight until the catch that readied the dart inside its tip clicked. When I turned, Blondie was concentrating fully on controlling his muscle-bound bundle of inertia, who seemed eager to greet me.

Ziel began barking. Not the typical deep-throated ruff of a big dog. No, this sounded like Chewbacca at Han Solo’s bachelor party. “Woo, woo, where’s the strippers? I don’t wanna miss all the fun. Woo, woo!”

I aimed the parasol at Blondie and fired, triggering the tranquilizer I’d loaded it with earlier by depressing a small button at the base of its handle. Dave and I turned and moved swiftly back toward the parking lot. According to Bergman, once he was released, Ziel would follow us. Judging by the dog’s current behavior, I figured he hadn’t exaggerated. Still, I took a quick look over my shoulder.

Blondie had sunk to his knees. Though he tried to the last to hold on to the dog, Ziel badly wanted to go bye-bye. One last lunge and he’d broken free. He raced toward us like a big, furry missile.

“Dave, he’s not slowing down!”

Dave glanced back. “He doesn’t look like he wants to eat us.” He snapped another picture of the fortress.

“But that’s not let’s-play-fetch speed either.”

“You could tackle him.” Click. Click.

“That dog weighs more than I do! Now quit trying to set up money shots and help me think, dammit!”

“Fine. You stand behind me and I’ll try to catch him.”

I didn’t argue. Dave turned around, muttering about how he’d never get a picture on the cover of Time magazine without some damn cooperation. For once, I let him rant. Because, despite the fact that Ziel’s tail was wagging like the starting flag at the Milwaukee Mile, I could see every one of his teeth. And they looked sharp. I ran behind Dave, bracing him the best I could by pressing my shoulder against his back. He shoved his forearm out, as if he expected Ziel to pull a police dog leap and latch on just like they do on TV. Not this canine. He dodged to Dave’s left, came around his flank, and jumped on me.

“Oh my God, would you get down!” I yelled, trying to peel back his enormous paws. They pressed deep into my right shoulder. Though the jacket provided some protection, I still expected them to leave bloody imprints, both from their sheer weight and the fact that it felt like his nails had never been trimmed.

I looked down into his face and, I swear, he was sticking that wide pink tongue to one side to make it easier for him to laugh. I said, “You need a Mentos. Ugh, I’m not kidding. The second I’m free, we’re brushing your teeth. Now get down, you monster! Dave, why are you laughing!”

“He’s ha-ha-humping you! Now I know what was in Bergman’s spray cans! No, no, stand still, I’ve got to get a shot of this!”

“Aw, for the love of—get off, you perve!” I shoved a hand into Ziel’s chest and lowered him to all fours before Dave could record my humiliation for all history. “Do I need to remind you we’re working?” I snarled as Dave worked the zoom on his camera.

“Hold that bitchy face. It’s classic Jaz,” he replied.

“Would you please grab the leash?” I demanded. “We need to get the hell out of here!”

“Fine, fine.” He let the electronics dangle and took hold of Ziel’s lead, allowing us to hustle to the parking lot. Well, we tried. “Goddammit, Dave, can you at least keep this mutt from nose-goosing me every four steps? I can’t think with my underwear stuck up my crack. I know it’s a weakness, but it’s just one of those things.” As Dave practically doubled over with laughter, I kept myself from boxing his ears by saying, “I don’t get why he’s not trying to get up close and personal with you. You sprayed too.”

“I used the stuff in the other can. Maybe it’s got different chemicals. Here, we’re at the minibus, you can call Bergman and ask.”

“Before or after I kill him?” More howling from my brother, who at least had the presence of mind to pull the dog off me and shove him in the vehicle for Trayton to hold.

Okay, Jaz, I told myself as I belted in and grabbed my phone out of the bag, don’t yell. Remember how Vayl gets results? He talks in a reasonable tone. And people listen. And then—I pressed the last button of Bergman’s number and yelled, “Fuck your protocols, Bergman! Answer this phone right the hell now!”

“Jasmine?” Dammit, his voice wasn’t even quivering. It would’ve been nice if he was still the shaky-quaky I’d roomed with in college. But he’d grown a backbone recently and was a lot harder to intimidate as a result. Still, I tried.

“What the hell, Miles? This dog—no, this miniature grizzly—thinks I’m his one and only!”

“Well, I didn’t know if he was neutered or not. So I put sex pheromones to attract an unneutered animal in one can, and the chemicals necessary to get a neutered animal’s attention in the other.”

“Well, I’m covered with love potion and he’s about to yank the arms off the guy who’s trying to hold on to him. What do I do now?”

“Are you wearing a jacket?”

He’d know I typically did in order to hide the gun he’d made for me. “Yeah.”

“Maybe if you lost it,” he suggested.

Which meant I’d also have to take off my shoulder holster. At this point I was willing to make the sacrifice if it meant getting that cold, wet nose out of my personals. I slipped the jacket off and threw it toward the back of the bus. Only I was so frustrated I hefted it farther than I meant to. It flew through the gap between Vayl’s tent and the side of the bus. Trayton wisely let go of Ziel, which meant he wasn’t injured when the dog tore after it. I wasn’t sure we’d be able to say the same for my boss.

“Vayl, brace yourself!” I cried.

“Why would, oof, ow!” Vayl responded as Ziel galloped over his tent, trampling it and various parts of the vampire’s anatomy in his effort to reach his new love. Finally he snagged the jacket at the back of the bus, where . . . well, I just couldn’t watch. It had once been a piece of my clothing. Now it was a dog’s sex toy.

Pete, you have no idea what sacrifices I make for this job, do you?

“Gross,” I said. I began to turn around. Then something about Trayton’s body language caught my eye. “Dude? Are you okay?” His pupils had doubled in size and he kept licking his lips as he looked at me, unblinking, his focus becoming a little creepy as it continued without even a glance in another direction.

He spoke in a hoarse, barely controlled monotone. “The spray seems to have an effect on werewolves too.”

This day just keeps getting better and better. “Dave! Get us to the cemetery. Quick!” I pulled my .38 just as Trayton made a move on me. “Don’t even,” I warned him.

“But you smell so—”

“It’s not me, ya sex-crazed wolfman! It’s spray-on fake-out juice. Dude, tell me you’re smart enough to know the difference!”

Finally, a reaction, even if it was just a couple of blinks. “Of course. But you, that is, I . . .” He sat back, his nose twitching, a look of confusion warring with the one of desire that now sat on his face.

“Plus, Phoebe told me you guys mate for life. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

I said, “Well, I’m not that girl. I’ll bet you can smell that too, if you just let yourself.”

“Can I have your dress when you’re done with it?”

“NO!”

He sat all the way back as I muttered, “Dave, where’s that can of your stuff? I’m drenching myself in it.” From then on, the only sounds that accompanied us to the cemetery were the whish of aerosol covering me in yet more pheromones and my own mumbling. Which went something like, “I don’t give a crap if this outfit is tax deductible, it still cost me seventy-five bucks, and that was on sale! Bergman, this stuff had better not stain. And thanks a helluva lot for explaining what was going to happen. Next time I take you on a mission, how ’bout I leave out the part where you have to give a six-hundred-pound man a sponge bath? I smell so disgusting I don’t even think they’d let me onto an episode of Dirty Jobs. And I’ve seen that guy clean up pig shit! I swear to God I’m about to bust a couple of canines right upside the head!”

Bergman’s apologies finally sounded sincere enough that I let him off the hook, especially after he promised to invent me something extra special to make up for it.

After we hung up I lapsed into one of those steaming silences where you can actually feel the heat coming off your own skin, but there’s really nothing left to say. Except, “Shit. Trayton, here’s my phone. Call the fire department. I think I just set that Dumpster ablaze.”

Dave glanced at me. “You mean, you’re the one—”

“Yup. At least, according to Raoul I am.” I leaned my head against the window.

“Jaz, that’s—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. In fact, I wanted to pull the plug on all my senses. Then I wouldn’t be able to feel Vayl’s powers, despite the fact that they were at low ebb, washing up against me like cool waves on fevered skin. And I could easily block the sound of Ziel in the back, sweet-talking my jacket in Wookie. It sounded like, “Woo-woo, I love you. This poly-cotton blend is so soft on the yoo-hoo.”

Behind me I heard Vayl stifle a chuckle. Then Trayton snorted, and when I looked over at Dave he was grinning so big the sides of his lips may have actually touched his earlobes. And suddenly I was laughing out loud, cackling like a mother hen, holding my gut, the tears streaming down my face because, really, how often can you say a huge dog chased you down, humped you, and then confiscated your outerwear? See if you can find a Precious Moments figurine to commemorate that one.