One More Bite

Copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Rardin

Excerpt from Bite Marks copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Rardin

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

Orbit

Hachette Book Group

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Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

First eBook Edition: January 2009

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

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

ISBN: 978-0-316-04076-1

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sev fienteen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Acknowledgments

Meet the author

A Preview of "BITE MARKS"

“You got any sisters?”

No. Why?” Cole turned curious blue eyes my way, his bronzed face and surfer’s ’fro making me long for a pristine beach and a bottle of SPF 80. Anything that would put thousands of miles between me and my dad while preventing skin cancer had to be a good thing.

I shrugged. “I thought your folks might like a daughter. As in me. I’m in the market for a new set.” When his glance wandered below my neck I punched him in the arm. “Of parents, you nimrod.”

“Then we’d be siblings,” he said. “Which would make what I want to do with you illegal.”

Praise for the Jaz Parks series:

“This latest Jaz Parks adventure is the most jam-packed yet!”

— scifichick.com on Biting the Bullet

“A wonderful light read with engaging characters and an interesting storyline.”

— Dragonpage Radio on Once Bitten, Twice Shy

JAZ PARKS NOVELS

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Another One Bites the Dust

Biting the Bullet

Bitten to Death

One More Bite

For my mother, Carol Ryan Pringle, who never once said, Would you drop this impossible writing dream and get a real job already? Thanks, Mom.

And for my sister, Erin Pringle, whose love has made me a better person.

Chapter One

Jasmine, do not pull that gun.”

Vayl spoke in a voice so low even I could barely hear him, which meant the people in the blue and white seats next to the bathroom door where I stood still had no idea what I meant to do.

“I’m gonna kill him,” I growled. My fingers tightened on the grip of Grief, the Walther PPK I kept stashed in the shoulder holster under my black leather jacket. I couldn’t see my intended victim at the moment. Vayl had set his hands on the edges of the doorframe, spreading his black calf-length duster like a curtain, blocking my view. But I could hear the son of a bitch, sitting near the front, chatting up the flight attendant like she was the daughter of one of his war buddies.

“You do understand what a bad idea this is, do you not?” Vayl insisted. “Even poking fun at murder on an airplane could bring the passengers down on you like a mob of after-Christmas sale shoppers.”

“Who says I’m joking?”

He fixed me with warm hazel eyes. “I would hate to see you beaten to death with that woman’s boot.”

He jerked his head sideways, directing my attention to an exhausted traveler who must’ve made her armrests squeak when she’d squeezed into her seat. I glanced her way, and as people will when they feel eyes on them, she looked back at me. For a second her saggy pink cheeks and black-framed glasses swam out of focus. A lean, dark-eyed face sneered at me from beneath her shoulder-length perm. It said, “Are you certain you know my name?” I squeezed my eyes shut.

You’re dead, Edward Samos. I saw your smoke fade into the night. I ground the bits of ash and bone you left behind into the dirt of the Grecian countryside. So stop haunting me!

I turned my head so that when I opened my eyes they fell on Vayl’s short black curls, which always tempted me to run my fingers through them. And his face, carved with the bold hand of an artist whose work I’d never toss aside.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Yeah, sure. For some bizarre reason I’m seeing the last vamp I assassinated on innocent people’s mugs. I can’t stop thinking about my boss in a totally unprofessional and yet toe-curling way. And, at age twenty-five, I still haven’t escaped the man who made my childhood pretty much a misery. I’m cruising, thanks for asking!

I picked the part that bothered me most and ripped. “You’re the one who let my father tag along. I told you it wouldn’t work. I warned you blood could be shed. But did you listen?”

“It is partially my fault,” he allowed. “If I had taken time to fly home between my trip to Romania and this mission, I do not believe this would have happened. But meeting you in London seemed more efficient. And without our Seer along to warn me otherwise, how was I to know your father would rendezvous with you there as well?”

I said, “I miss Cassandra.” Especially on days like today. Not just because her psychic abilities could’ve detoured this steamroller. But because she always seemed to know what to say to keep me from ruining my so-called life.

Vayl’s eyes traveled to my hand, still stuck inside my pocket. Or was he checking out my boobs? And if not, should I be even more pissed? His half smile showed he knew exactly what I was thinking. He said, “Perhaps we should consider bringing Cassandra with us more regularly. As for the bloodshed, I supposed you would wait until we had reached Inverness.”

“Who brings baby pictures with them on a trip?” I griped. “If I’d wanted my bare ass paraded in front of all the premium ticket holders I’d have mooned everyone before we took off!”

Vayl knew better than to tell me the photos were adorable. Then I’d have had to kill him too. If that had been the real issue. Problem was, when my dad had cracked that old album, he’d done it upside down first. So the picture that had caught my attention was a copy of the one I’d locked in my safe nearly eighteen months ago. A shot of Matt and me just after he’d slipped his ring on my finger. I wondered if two people had ever been so sure they were headed for eternal happiness. Or had their mistake shoved so violently in their faces two weeks later.

“Look into my eyes,” Vayl said.

“What, so you can hypnotize me? No thanks.”

He shook his head. “We both know my powers have a minimal effect on you. Come now, my pretera. Humor me.”

“What’s a pretera?”

“It is a Vampere word, meaning wildcat.”

“Oh. In that case . . .” I locked stares with the guy who’d started out as my supervisor, upgraded to sverhamin, and ended up . . . well, sometimes the possibilities practically made my skin steam. Other times I still felt like Matt’s traitor. Can you betray a dead man? Since I didn’t know the answer to that one, I forced my mind to pettier subjects. “I can’t believe my father’s here. This is like my first date times ten.”

“How do you say? Money talks.”

So true. In this case, the bucks had come from Albert himself. “What are we, the Russian Space Agency?” I demanded. “Selling seats on our trips haon our to the highest bidder?”

Vayl said, “I realize the shock is only now wearing off. Once again, I want to assure you that I would have warned you. But Pete did not inform me Albert would be joining us until he called just before I met you in London. Apparently your father felt you would strenuously object to his presence—”

“Ya think?”

“Thus the secrecy surrounding his joining us at Gatwick.”

“He must’ve known I’d have thrown him off the plane in Cleveland,” I muttered. I realized I’d taken my hand out of my jacket and Vayl had used the chance to curl his fingers around mine. No romance in that touch. He was probably just trying to keep me from reaching again.

I sighed. “Okay, I won’t kill him yet. But you get those pictures out of his claws, and keep him away from me, and—”

Vayl slid his fingers up my arm, sending trickles of awareness shooting through me. Suddenly I couldn’t think of anything but his touch. A deliberate move on his part—underhanded and mean. I kinda loved it. “I never thought I would say this,” he murmured, leaning in so his lips nearly brushed my ear. “But I would suggest you spend the rest of this flight concentrating on Cole.”

Who? Oh. Damn, Jaz, would you kick your brain into gear? Remember Cole? Your third for this piece-o’-crap job? The one Pete has decided to fund using your dad’s 401(k)?

Jerking my arm from Vayl’s hand so I could think, dammit, I began plotting a revenge so intricate and satisfying I barely heard him say, “I will deal with your father.”

“Fine.” Wait, maybe not. “Um, Vayl? Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Be discreet, will ya? He doesn’t know about . . . us . . . yet. And I think I should probably be the one to tell him I’m involved with a vampire.”

Chapter Two

When I retire I’m going to write a book. Not about the CIA. I know too many secrets that could get me killed. Or worse, elected. Nope, this one’s going to be called My Dad Is an Asshole: The True Story of a Shithead’s Daughter.

As I stared out the window, using Cole as a buffer between the butt-flap and me, I knew I should be trying to figure out his game. Mostly retired consultants to the Agency don’t just pop into the field whenever they feel the urge for some exercise. Especially ones who’ve just recovered from a major vehicular collision. But I was still too pissed to follow any logical train of thought for long.

I heard Vayl say, “Perhaps we should stow your album under the seat for now, Albert. I understand we are about to land. And we have had so little time to discuss football. I understand you are a Bears fan?” At which point I decided I owed my sverhamin an elaborate dinner that would not include any of the gross dishes I’d heard some native Scots preferred. Haggis? Who eats something that sounds like an eighty-year-old husband-beater who sees Jesus’s face in her porridge every morniwou„ng but devours it anyway?

“When do you think they’ll let me get my cell out?” Cole asked. “I promised Mom I’d text her as soon as we land. I’m going to stick my phone up some guy’s kilt, flash a picture, and then challenge her to guess what she’s seeing.”

“That is so disgusting.”

“What? I’ll get his permission first.”

“Sending dirty pictures to your mom?”

“She’ll laugh so hard her teeth will probably fly across the dinner table. She lost them in a car accident, you know.”

“Really?”

“She was drag racing. Oh, I’m supposed to tell you she won. She made me promise to always say that when I mention her dentures.”

I shook my head. Not just because Cole probably needed psychiatric help. But because he liked his mom. And she reciprocated. Weird concept, that. Mine had suffered a fatal heart attack. Currently the unburiable part of her resided alongside the other skeptics and unrepentants in a version of hell I never wanted to see (or smell) again. Oddly, that reminded me of Matt. One of our last conversations had been about my parents. I’d been bitching about my dad.

“He’s all right, you know,” Matt had said between bites of the burgers we’d just grilled on the little deck outside our cozy country-themed duplex. “Once you get past all the bark there’s a quality human in there. Your mom’s the one to watch out for.”

I’d violently disagreed with him about Albert. After all, he hadn’t grown up listening to the man’s lazy-ass lectures. “Get your lazy ass off the couch and do your damn chores!” But he’d had a valid point when it came to my mother. What a depressing duo.

“Your mom can bake too, right?” I asked Cole.

He nodded. “Like a pastry chef. She said Grandma Thea made her try a bunch of girly hobbies after the car crash, and baking was the only one that stuck. She and my dad run a little coffee shop in Miami that’s famous for its homemade desserts. In fact, she likes to say her cinnamon rolls put all four of her boys through college.”

“You got any sisters?”

“No. Why?” Cole turned curious blue eyes my way, his bronzed face and surfer’s ’fro making me long for a pristine beach and a bottle of SPF 80. Anything that would put thousands of miles between me and my dad while preventing skin cancer had to be a good thing.

I shrugged. “I thought your folks might like a daughter. As in me. I’m in the market for a new set.” When his glance wandered below my neck I punched him in the arm. “Of parents, you nimrod.”

“Then we’d be siblings,” he said. “Which would make what I want to do with you illegal.”

I sighed. “Dude, you can’t still want to marry me. Now that you know I’m with—” I jerked my thumb toward Vayl.

“Why won’t you say his name out loud if you two are such a pair?”

igh" widthI yanked my tray out of its upright position and depocketed the poker chips that had become a balm to my troubled spirit ever since I’d had to give up my playing cards. As I divided and recombined them, the familiar clack of clay against plastic eased the kinks out of my knot-infested muscles. “My dad doesn’t know.”

When I felt Cole’s shoulder shaking against mine I glanced over. He was laughing so hard he couldn’t make a sound. As soon as he paused for a breath, the plane’s cabin would be filled with the echoes of his mirth. And I’d have to kill him too.

I whispered, “You make a sound and I’ll tell Pete you compromised this mission and should be reassigned to a desk. Forever.”

The giggles blasted out of him in a single shocked whoof. “You wouldn’t!”

“Okay, not forever. Two weeks, max. But, believe me, it feels like eternity.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “Remind me never to break my collarbone. Apparently all the forced rest causes you to peel the skin off your face and reveal your inner monster.”

“It was more of a crack than a break. And I’ve been perfectly reasonable—”

“Save it. I didn’t want to believe the rumors, but now I have to think they were true. You really did come off sick leave three weeks early to answer the phones at the office, didn’t you?”

“Martha hadn’t had a vacation in years. So I just thought—”

“Is it true that you repainted the whole floor? One-handed?”

“The walls were turquoise. Who can concentrate with that color looming over them all day long?”

“Did you, or did you not, reorganize all of Pete’s files so now he can’t find anything?”

I bit my lip. “I don’t see what the big deal is. Most of it’s just backup for what’s on his computer. But that was when he sent me to Florida, which, in my own defense, I’m pretty sure he was planning to do anyway—”

Cole shook his head direly. “Not so fast. I saw you plowing toward the back of the plane just now like you meant to tear off the tail and stuff it down Albert’s throat. No, don’t get that dreamy look on your face. I want some straight talk from you, dammit!”

I gulped. Cole didn’t swear much, and never at me. In fact, he’d been nothing but charming, funny, and pretty much perfect since we’d met in a women’s bathroom when he was still a PI specializing in supernatural cases. “Okay,” I said. “What do you want to know?”

Cole turned fully toward me, bracing his hand against the seat in front of him. He lowered his voice to intimate. “To me this is just another aspect of your recently upgraded weirdocity.”

“That’s not a word.”

“Shut up.”

Since the alternative was kicking a huge dent in his face, which he really didn’t deserve, I pressed my lips together and listened. He said, “Why do you keep holding back with Vayl if it’s the real thing? You wonnt>hing? Y’t tell your dad. Nobody in the department knows. Isn’t true love something you want to shout about from the nearest rooftop?”

I murmured, “Dude, every time I step onto a roof somebody tries to throw me off. Plus that’s so . . .” I rolled my eyes and made an ick-I-swallowed-a-gnat sound.

“That’s not an answer,” he insisted.

I took one of the chips off the pile I’d made and turned it between my fingers. “It’s Matt.” I didn’t need to remind him that my fiancé had been murdered, along with my sister-in-law and the rest of our vamp-killing crew. It was one of the first personal stories I’d ever told him. Which said a lot about the kind of guy he was.

For an answer he draped his arm across my shoulder.

Once I would’ve blown off this conversation. Too hard. Major chance of a marshmallowy aftertaste. Now I stuck with it. Although I did entertain the fleeting thought that personal growth sucks. “Every time I think I’m ready to move on, something happens to remind me of him. That’s one part of it. But it’s not the hardest.”

“What’s the rest?”

“I guess I’m more superstitious than I realized. One corner of my brain is convinced that if I make some big announcement, that’ll be the same as a challenge.”

“To who?”

“I don’t know. God? Fate? Whoever thought it was okay to wipe out everybody I really cared about in the first place.”

“First of all, that chapter of your life was written by Aidyn Strait. He was the vampire who killed your people, and nobody else should get the credit. Also, don’t you think you’re exaggerating? Just a little?”

Where did Cole get off with the superior attitude? “I have no idea what you mean,” I snapped.

“Your brother survived that massacre.”

“Only because he was already in the hospital.”

“What about your sister? Don’t you love her?”

“You’re missing my point.”

“I don’t think so. Look, I’m not trying to undercut your loss. It was huge. I’m just saying, maybe you’re not seeing it clearly because it was so horrific to start with.”

“Did you want me to answer your question or not?” I growled.

“Well, yeah.”

“That’s all I’m doing. I’m telling you that I’m not anxious to make anything official between me and Vayl. Because I think that if I do he’ll die.”

Cole smiled. “By that logic, you should date me, then.”

“What?”

“Think about it. Why would Fate want to turn Vayl into vapor if It thought you and I were getting busy?”

“That’s nuts.” menuts.”<

He leaned over and kissed me, smack, on the cheek. His breath, smelling faintly of grape bubble gum, blew across my lips as he murmured, “You said it, not me.”

When he sank back into his seat nothing was left to block my view of Albert. In the time since Vayl had settled beside him, my dad had managed to extort another bag of peanuts from the flight attendant. I watched him pop them into his mouth one by one and chew them without once closing his lips, so that the sound of his masticating between complaints about his favorite team’s lame-ass secondary bounced off the curved walls of the Embraer like the wet plopping of a knife slicing through layers of bloated animal skin.

Ugh!

I stuck my fingers in my ears and glued my eyes to the window. The landscape should’ve cheered me. The green fields and thick trees that surrounded Dalcross Airport had always lifted my spirits. They were the part of the landscape that reminded me most of home. But the deep blue of the Moray Firth flowing off into the North Sea let me know I’d come a long way from Ohio. As did the knowledge that if we turned this plane just a touch to the west and kept flying we’d be sweeping into the Highlands, where peaks with names like Liathac and Ben Dearg made you think of the old gods. The ones who probably still lolled among the mountains, gouging out grooves with their elbows and asses, joking about how the mountaineers would have a fine old time ascending their dirty new cracks. Yeah, my sense was that they had the humor of thirteen-year-old boys. Except for the goddesses, who had none.

Since Vayl was with me on this trip, the fact that I could see anything besides runway lights and the sparkle of a growing city should’ve seemed miraculous. But I was too disturbed to get all slobbery about the reason he’d begun to wake early, which had everything to do with his way-cool ability to suck another vampire’s powers into his permanent arsenal. During our last mission, his former nestling had tried to make their arrangement eternal. She’d literally shoved Vampere magic through him, forcing him to stay awake through an entire day. The process had left him changed. Now he woke at least three hours before dark and stayed up about that long after the sun had risen.

This can be a problem for a guy who sizzles in the sun.

Enter Bergman, our tech consultant, whose genius had saved our asses so many times I’d considered tattooing his name on mine. He’d come up with a lotion that temporarily blocked the sun’s rays so Vayl could at least walk from building to building without frying. Unfortunately it darkened his skin so radically he looked like he’d fallen asleep inside a tanning bed.

I looked over at him now, wondering how the hell we were going to pull off this mission with so many variables to control. Then his eyes met mine. And when they lightened to amber I knew that as long as we stuck together, nothing could stop us.

Chapter Three

Driving is my thing. Not only do I kick ass behind the wheel, but I love controlling thousands of pounds of road-eating people-hauler with little more than a twitch of the pinky. I had planned on playing chauffeur out of Dalcross, since the route to Tearlach—Floraidh Halsey’s bed-and-breakfast—mappednt „ “tricky” when you typed in the address. But Jack turned out to be a fearful flyer and needed major comfort. As soon as I transferred him from pet carrier to leash he ducked between my legs, which meant I practically rode him to the urine-yellow Alhambra we’d rented. Actually, I could’ve hopped on and he wouldn’t have noticed. He weighs twenty more pounds than I do. And eats twice as much. We won’t even discuss the pooping. Gawd.

Yeah, I know, I’d said I was gonna adopt him out to a good home after I killed his master on my last mission. Samos had loved the malamute more than anything or anyone else he’d ever known. And why not? He was a fabulous dog. Good humored. Obedient. Smart and sensitive. I could go on, but I’m pretty sure I’d start sounding like one of those batty old ladies who eventually gets devoured by her forty-two cats. In the end, I couldn’t let him go. But Jack had come with a few issues, which meant I couldn’t leave matters in their original state either.

“Tell me you’re joking!” Cole demanded as we sat in the second row of seats with my dog lying between us. Vayl, at the wheel, wearing dark glasses and a black fedora, glanced in the rearview. Albert sat next to him, immersed in the map he held, trying to make sense of directions that, while written in English, still needed a translator.

“I’m dead serious,” I insisted. “I got him fixed.”

Cole threw his arms up and hunched into the corner of the ivory seat. He rolled his eyes at the canine, who’d undergone a dye job for this mission since we figured he’d mixed with the coven while he was still Samos’s pet, and we didn’t need his seamy past coming back to bite us in the ass. The vet said he’d been cheerful about the shampooing that would leave him coal black for the next three weeks. But that was Jack, always willing to play along, especially if you offered him something to nibble as part of the deal.

Now he regarded Cole curiously, as if trying to divine whether or not somebody who smelled like bubble gum could be a source of doggy treats. “Sorry, Jack,” said his disgusted buddy. “If I’d known about this, I’d have done more to protect your manhood.”

“He was humping everything in sight!” I fumed. “I had to throw out my ottoman!”

“That’s no reason to snip a guy’s nuts!”

“He’s not a guy; he’s a dog. Who won’t be making puppies. Or screwing my shoes anymore! Yeehaw!”

Cole shoved his hands into the crooks of his elbows. “Well, this mission sucks.”

“It’s barely started! And I should be the one bitching!”

“Turn left here,” Albert told Vayl calmly, as if the two of us yelling didn’t even exist. Suddenly I could hardly keep myself from kicking the back of his seat.

“What are you doing here anyway?” I demanded.

Albert speared a glance over his shoulder. In the fading light, his silvery hair and wrinkles seemed to disappear and he looked much more like the dad who’d continuously barked at me to Sit up straight, dammit! I won’t have any slope-shouldered daughters in my unit! Only after I’d pulled myself upright did I realize the old fart had done it to me again. Gotten under mmysotten uy skin like a sliver of bamboo.

“I’m just here as an observer,” he said. “Pete knew I was interested in what you did for a living, so we found terms we could agree on.”

“If you think I’m going to buy that line of crap—” The tiniest jerk of Vayl’s head stopped me. I’ve worked for him long enough to pick up on every gesture, because they all come with their own backstory if you just know how to interpret them. I couldn’t see his eyes through the shades, but the thin line of his lips spoke volumes.

Let it be, they told me.

Okay, but only for a while.

Good enough.

“We are happy to have you, Albert,” Vayl said. “Did Pete fill you in as to the details of our mission?”

“All he said was that he’d assigned you to eliminate an assassin.” Albert glanced at the map. “Looks like we take the next right.”

“This inn is somewhat secluded, is it not?” Vayl said.

“Better for us,” I said.

“Why is that?” asked Albert.

I raised my eyebrows at Vayl. “Tell him,” he said.

I scrunched down in my seat because I knew it would irritate my dad. As I patted Jack on the head I tried to remember everything in the right order. “About four weeks ago we took out a major player in the supernatural community called Edward ‘the Raptor’ Samos. This was one evil dude. We’re talking multiple efforts to cause worldwide death and destruction. He forced a lot of others into partnerships with him. Crowds that wouldn’t normally mix it up, except maybe in a territorial dispute.”

“Sounds like a real douche bag.”

I swallowed a surprised chuckle. Did Albert even know the literal meaning of the word? I said, “Definitely. We do know that three groups willingly entered into alliances with him. They were the Valencian Weres, an American vamp gang we call the Flock, and the Witches of Inverness.”

“Aha. So you’ve come to take out the coven?” Albert guessed.

I shook my head, irritated to have to reject such a logical conclusion. “The Big Bosses have decided it’s in our best interests to maintain the balance of power between the three groups. So when one of our guys, who’s in deep cover with the Valencian Weres, told us they’d contracted an assassin to kill Floraidh Halsey, the coven’s leader, events began to unfold. Now we’re here, under orders to take out the killer before she has a chance to change the balance and trigger a war between the factions. According to our source she’s going to be staying at Floraidh’s B and B.”

“The assassin is a girl?” Albert asked.

“Why do you sound surprised?” I demanded. “So am I.”

“You’re Vayl’s assistant.” He’s the assassin, said the stubborn set of his jaw. You just take messages and clean his guns.

“I kill bad guys, Dad. It’s what I’ve done for a living since I graduated from college. And I’m good at it.”

His eyes dropped to Jack. I saw his hand twitch, as if he wanted to reach out and sink his fingers into that thick fur, but he wouldn’t let himself. “So how are you going to make sure I fit in?” he asked.

We’re not. We’re going to kick your ass back to Chicago where you belong! I nearly said it. But Cole put his hand on my clenched fist and said, “Our cover can take another member, easy. We’re going in as ghost hunters attending a big shindig called GhostCon. Good timing for a hit with all the strangers coming into town, which is probably why the assassin chose this week. Anyway, the lectures and whatnot are taking place at Castle Hoppringhill, which is pretty close to Floraidh’s B and B. One or two of us will have to poke our faces into GhostCon every few hours just to make sure our cover sticks. Having you along to do that will give the rest of us an even better chance to identify the assassin.”

“You don’t know what she looks like?” Albert asked. The disbelief in his voice reminded me of a disgruntled restaurant patron. What do you mean you’re out of roast beef?

“She’s new,” I snapped. “All we got from our guy is that her contact name is Bea. She first surfaced about six months ago, but she’s gained impressive credentials since. She’s credited with the assassination of the president of Southern Kordofan as well as General Imran Salim, Ambassador Baldric Smythe, and the women’s rights activist Safia Mian.”

Albert shrugged. “You’ll get her.”

Despite the fact that I still wanted to punt him out the door and watch him roll down the hill, his confidence warmed me. “That’s the plan. However, Safia, besides traveling with two superbly trained bodyguards, also kept a Seer on her payroll. The fact that the Seer never had a clue about the origin or identity of Safia’s killer means we’re going against superior skill and atypical power.”

I put a lot of no-big-deal into my tone, but underneath I was shaking hard enough for my organs to sprint for the nearest sturdy doorway. Because I wasn’t convinced we were going to survive this mission. The third we’d originally requested might’ve been able to understand and combat the kind of power I’d described. A warlock with impressive skills and a helluva record, he’d have come in handy both in sniffing out our assassin and in warding off any surprises Floraidh and her coven might throw at us. The fact that Vayl, who’d been denied nothing in his eighty years with the department, had been assigned Cole instead did not bode well for support on the home front should this mission start to stink. And I’d already begun to smell sulfur.

Albert, still mulling Safia’s fate, said, “Well, there had to at least be a fight, right? I mean, with that kind of firepower at hand, the activist bimbo didn’t die quietly, did she?”

How has no woman ever yet clonked you over the head with a purse full of quarters? I shook my head, wishing I could be the first, but knowing it wouldn’t be likely. Since I didn’t carry a purse. I said, “No, Dad. Our understanding is that the neighbors heard the bimbo and her staff screaming for several minutes before the house they were renting burned down around them.”

Albert didn’t wince. He’d taken too much of my crap and seen too much other shit in his time for either sarcasm or arson to part the stones that held his expression in its regular, harsh lines. “So Bea’s a firebug?” was all he asked.

“We thought so at first,” I replied. “Nearly all of the bodies had been thoroughly charred. But now we think she was trying to disguise the real cause of death.”

“Which was?”

“Snakebite.”

Albert shifted in his seat so he could see me better. “Why would that make any difference?”

“Not sure. But the sprinkler system preserved one of the bodies well enough that we can surmise it was covered in bites, almost like somebody had dumped a barrel of snakes on it. And these were ones from a particular species. The most venomous land snake in the world. It’s called the Inland Taipan, a shy mouse eater that’s only found in Australia. Strange deal, because Safia and her people were living in Lebanon at the time.”

The longer I talked about the Taipan the tighter Vayl clutched the wheel, until it began to creak under the pressure. He loathed snakes. Even worse than I disliked tight spaces. I wanted to reach out, give my boss a comforting pat. I lifted my hand, looked at it, ran it through my curls.

Meantime Albert had not digested my news well. The bushy eyebrows inched upward as his green eyes pierced right through me. Ten years ago I’d have given up every secret I thought he hadn’t already discovered under that glare. Now I just waited silently for his verdict. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “Inland Taipans as an assassin’s tool? That’s pretty sick. Did you bring antivenom?”

“Yeah. But I gotta tell you, it’s not a hundred percent effective. Something about the venom can sometimes sneak past the cure. Obviously we believe she’s a Medusa, so we’re hoping to kill her before she makes her move.”

As Albert imagined the horror I’d just described, a woman who wound her pets around her hair like a turban only to set them loose on her unsuspecting victims when the killing mood struck her, he produced that sucking-on-teeth noise that made my ribs ache. It meant he was about to say something important. I waited for him to tell me he was impressed that the CIA trusted such a tricky assignment to his own daughter.

“You should’ve brought a warlock,” he said before turning back to his map.

I leaned over to Cole. “I should’ve killed him on the plane.”

Chapter Four

Albert surprised me by navigating us straight from the A9 to a winding country road to the long tarmac lane that led to Tearlach. As we drove toward the house, I realized it may have been our first trip together where he didn’t decide on a last-minute detour to some obsolete hole like the Museum of Big Gray Rocks or the Littlest Loch in the Nairn Valley.

“Would you take a look at this place?” Albert said as he folded the map.

“Reminds me of thter„e Hansel and Gretel story,” Cole replied.

Much like the woman herself, Floraidh’s place exuded warmth and hospitality. From a distance we could glimpse orderly gardens just beginning to blossom in the promising warmth of mid-May. They surrounded a four-story confection whose designer must’ve had a wife who adored jewelry. So why not throw a bunch of doodads on the house as well? Six gables that I could see made the roof a reshingler’s nightmare. The front porch, which ran around three-quarters of the house, had been enclosed to begin with, along with the two sunporches that jutted above the main entrances, which were at its east and west ends.

“What the hell kind of monstrosity is that?” wondered Albert as he eyed the four smoking chimneys and the gingerbread molding edging the roofline.

“I believe that is called a Queen Anne Victorian,” said Vayl.

“No wonder they have to take in guests,” he replied. “It must cost a fortune to heat. And it probably never gets warm inside. Not even in the summer.”

Yeah, go ahead, Pops. Enjoy the show. Even the trees marching down the edge of this smooth, straight lane want you to believe the sham. But wait’ll you hear Floraidh’s secret.

She and her coven worshipped Scidair, a sorceress whose legends told how she’d become Satan’s concubine in the afterlife. When you kept that in mind, you could see the reality behind the advertising: a looming old construction laced with manipulative magic, guarded by green, bushy lumps with hidden thorns poised to reach out and grab the unsuspecting guest. Backing up my observations were tall thin rocks that jutted from the earth at random points in the yard, as if Mother Nature herself was giving us the middle finger. She’d shaded most of them gray, but at just the right angle they glittered so brightly that if you looked at them wrong you saw dots for the next two minutes.

Jack jumped down to get a better look out the window. Something on my side of the lane had caught his attention. He began to scratch at the glass.

I ran my hand down his back. “I don’t see anything, dude. What—”

Movement. I caught a blur out of the corner of my eye just as Albert yelled, “Watch out!” and threw up his hands.

I leaped forward, putting myself between my dad and whatever had startled him, practically sitting on his lap as Vayl jerked the wheel to the left. The van spun sideways, giving me half a breath to realize that a man had stepped into the vehicle’s path. He didn’t even look up as the tires squealed, signaling imminent impact. I got the impression of shaggy brown hair with a matching beard. A suit coat and pants in the same color that sagged so badly the man must’ve bought them when he was forty pounds heavier. And a gold chain running from pants to vest pocket.

Then our window swung sideways. I braced myself against the dashboard. Craned my neck, trying to see whether the man had jumped out of the way in time, tensing against the thud that would signal the beginning of a dreadful few days. It never came.

As soon as the Alhambra screeched to a stop we jumped out and ran to the spot where the man’s body should be lying. Nothing.

“Yeah.” I turned to leave.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“You taking the mutt with you tonight?”

I looked down at Jack, who blinked at me soulfully. “I figured I would.”

“Why don’t you leave him with me?”

“Huh?” The offer caught me so far off guard I was sure I looked like a total cave brain, with my mouth hanging open to give all my loose gray matter a straight shot to the floor.

“He could keep me company while I watch TV.”

“Are you going to yell at him?”

“Why would I do that?”

“You mean like you’re yelling at me right now?”

“I’m not yelling!”

“Promise to talk nice or he leaves with me.”

Albert shook his head and stared at Jack. “Do you want to stay with me for a while, Jackster? I may have a few treats for you in my suitcase to help pass the time.” Albert hobbled to the dresser and threw open the lid to his luggage. Right on top lay a box of doggy snacks.

“You didn’t.”

For answer, Albert dug one out and offered it to Jack, who immediately deserted me to make friends with the man who had informed me, at the age of eight, that if I couldn’t figure out how to manage all by myself I might as well skip my independence and check right into Greenfields Assisted Living.

I left my dad and my dog bonding over Milk-Bones and Hot Fuzz, thinking, The way this day is going, things are only gonna get weirder.

Chapter Ten

As I walked through my room, repeating the clearing ceremony I’d performed for the girls as well as for Vayl, Cole, and Albert, I tried to talk myself into liking the place. The wallpaper, which only ran up to the white chair rail, was covered in a ripe plum design. I should be tempted to pluck them right off the wall. Except I kept thinking they looked like frozen testicles, and I was feeling sorry for the model. The part above the rail, painted lavender, just depressed me.

I did appreciate that I had my own bathroom, so I wouldn’t have to share with the guys. It was situated right across from the entry. Around the corner stood the bed, its frame consisting of long wooden spindles that reminded me of my niece’s crib. And the table beside it was so tiny the lamp looked like it was going to topple off in the night, possibly electrocuting me in my sleep.

Floraidh had also furnished the room with an interesting piece that was part dresser, part makeup table. Half the thing had drawers, which I’d left empty because this wasn’t a place I wanted to get cozy in. The other half had a flat desk under which Floraidh had pushed a richly cushioned stool. A square mirror fra Fd tmed in lightly stained pine had been hung on the wall above it. Since I wore the bare minimum cosmetics-wise, I’d probably use it five minutes a day. Okay, maybe ten. Fifteen if my damn curls wouldn’t start cooperating.

As soon as the shields snapped shut I set Tolly’s incense burner on the floor by the door and opened my trunk. Out came the laptop and all its components, which only took a couple of minutes to set up. While I waited for the computer to connect, I changed for GhostCon. This included adding a few weapons I hadn’t worn on the flight. My black bag provided wrist sheaths for both arms. The one on the right held holy water, my first line of defense against vampires. It wouldn’t kill Bea, but it might poison or paralyze her, taking her down long enough for me to use Grief or the blade my seamstress had expertly hidden in my right pocket. Since I wore Tolly’s bracelet on the same arm, the logistics of using the syringe that held the water might become a little tricky. So I strapped it on, hoping I wouldn’t need to use it.

I’d given up the throwing knives I’d once carried on my left wrist. Hadn’t wanted to use them since that mission to Iran, when I’d been forced to slit my brother’s throat with one in order to free him from a necromancer’s spell. Despite the fact that he’d survived, the knives had become a nightmare reminder of those long minutes when I’d thought he wouldn’t come back from zombieland. So I’d finally ditched them for good. Instead I’d loaded a new sheath with a piece of technology Bergman had sold the Agency under the name of Mongoose.

A mini cannon that shot some sort of foam, the Mongoose looked about as effective as a movie prop. But it felt as heavy as a tank of grill gas. I didn’t know what Bergman had loaded the sucker with, but when he assured me it would stop anything like a Medusa I had to trust him. The guy knew his science and, increasingly, his magic as well as doctors know the Hippocratic oath.

The ghost hunters I’d researched (all quacks from what I could tell) favored black, so I dressed with that color scheme in mind. I pulled on a fresh pair of jeans to which I transferred the contents of my pockets, and a peasant blouse that I’d just started to button when the laptop made its final connection.

Within five minutes I’d arranged for the pickup and found out everything the CIA and Interpol knew about the guests in Floraidh’s house.

Rhona Jepson was the widow of a banker named Currie, whose murder had, indeed, been related to those of Viv’s roommates. It remained unsolved.

Humphrey and Lesley Haigh could’ve carpeted their home with the money they’d made and used the spare change to repave their garden paths. But they still lived in the same tiny two-bedroom cottage they’d rented when they were newlyweds. The only difference was that now they owned it. They had one child, a boy named Nesbit who ran their London store.

Iona seemed clean, but we had too little information on her for me to come up with a firm conclusion either way.

When Viv Jepson’s file came up, I shoved the stool back from the dressing table and strode over to the window. Mum might’ve convinced the press to lie, but Interpol had a complete report. With pictures. Staring out at the towering Douglas firs and Scots pines of Culloden Wood, I tried to gear myself back to neutral. To swallow the lump in my throat and clutch the curtains hard enough that they’d soak u K thiedp the sweat pouring from my palms.

Even caught in another woman’s tragedy and my own struggle not to drown in it, I sensed him coming to me. I was surprised enough to turn and look when he didn’t knock, but opened the door and walked in, shutting it softly behind him.

“So you don’t need an invitation to cross my threshold anymore?” I asked.

Vayl’s gaze went to my left hand. “When you accepted Cirilai, you made a great many things possible for me that could not have happened before.”

I glanced at the ring he’d given me. A gold and ruby masterpiece his grandfather had crafted, it had been imbued with all the powers his family could summon to protect him from the horrible fate his mother had envisioned for him before she died. It connected us in ways I still didn’t quite understand. Though I was beginning to wonder if it, more than anything else, was the catalyst that had matched us in the first place.

“Where’s Floraidh?” I asked.

“Cole is demonstrating our equipment to her. He has, how do you say, ramped up the charm, so she is quite fascinated.” His eyes wandered down my body, and when they returned to mine, brilliantly green in a face taut with desire, I remembered I hadn’t quite finished dressing.

“Why—” I cleared my throat. Husky wasn’t where I wanted my voice to be right now. “Did you need something?”

Oops. Loaded question, and one Vayl seemed only too willing to answer with action as he closed the distance between us. But he didn’t touch me. Just stood near as a whisper as he said, “I know you hate it when I eavesdrop. But I felt your anguish from outside. What has upset you?”

I wanted to turn back to the window. Climb out and run into the trees, maybe do a little Scottish version of Tarzan. Only I couldn’t blame my need to escape on my wild upbringing. Just a sense that I might never be free of horror. That in twenty years I could be skipping through life, thinking I’d somehow “made it,” and I could read a story in the newspaper or see someone on the train who reminded me of that day in Virginia when my own nightmare had begun, and I’d know it had never let me go. It never would.

I took a deep breath, started with the least of my worries. That sad bowl of ashes and the samples I’d be handing off to some stranger during the opening ceremonies tonight. Vayl accepted the whole story with nothing more than a lowering of the brows, his substitute for any of a number of the four-letter words that relieved the worst of my stresses.

I moved on to the part that had burned holes into my guts. “Viv’s on the level with her story. Whether that makes her our killer or not . . .” I shrugged, unable to go on. Those pictures. Jesus. You could distance yourself from the victims. But not from Viv’s stoned and tragic face. Especially when you put it next to the before shot of an outgoing debate team member with a promising political career ahead of her.

“Viv’s had it pretty rough since. She dropped out of college. Doesn’t see any of her friends. Works at the library in her hometown and lives with her mom and Iona.”

“So do you believe she has simply come becau Kplyna.se her mother will not let her stay home alone?” Vayl asked. “That she is, indeed, Bea? Or that she truly intended to find someone like us all along?”

“I prefer choice number three.”

Vayl’s brows lowered. “Disturbing, is it not, that the living allow the dead to exert so much power over them?”

We stared at each other for a second and then shook our heads, trading sheepish grins. “We’re a couple of hypocrites, Boss.”

He inched closer. “I wish you would not call me that.”

I lifted my chin so I could look into his eyes, glittering like gems in his immobile face. “Sverhamin, then?”

“Ahh.” His breath blew across my lips. “When you agreed to accept me as such, did you ever think you would find yourself here?”

“In Scotland?”

He gave me that semi smile that made my knees want to buckle. “Why is it that you love to tangle with my patience?”

“Well, having spent some time in the Vampere world, I can now say that being your avhar has taught me to entertain myself at your expense whenever possible. Because who knows when I’ll have to turn around and smoke your ex-wife or kick your old girlfriend’s ass?”

“Disa was never my girlfriend.”

“She wanted to be.”

Vayl slipped his hand around my waist. “What about you?” He ran the fingers of his other hand along my collarbone, which had mended during his trip to Romania. His touch sent such tremors through my body that my tongue flew to the roof of my mouth and stuck there.

“I did as you asked,” he said. “I revisited the site of my worst memories. My sons’ tombstones still stand where I set them over two hundred and fifty years ago. You cannot read their names anymore. I considered recarving them, and then I decided to let it be.”

As they always did, his eyes had darkened while he talked about Hanzi and Badu. I was beginning to understand that their murders felt as fresh to him as my own losses did to me. He said, “You asked me to let them rest. To accept that I lost them so I could move forward. With you. All I can tell you is that I have begun.”

I raised my hand to his cheek, slightly rough with evening stubble. I slid my fingers into his hair. “You are so brave.”

Our lips came together so quick and hard that our teeth clicked and I felt blood on my lip, though I wasn’t sure if it was mine or his. Didn’t matter. The world had narrowed to breath, hot and quick. Fingertips leaving fiery trails across skin. His tongue tracing a path down my torso to my abdomen and, amidst my gasps of pleasure, his delighted whisper. “You wore it!”

I looked down as he brushed his finger against the belly ring he’d sent to me while we were apart. The interlocked golden hearts with their ruby centers swung gently from side to side as I smiled at him. “It’s my favorite,” I told him.

Cole’s eyes lit up and he practically clapped his hands. Vayl regarded me thoughtfully. “Do you suppose so?”

I shrugged. “She’s obviously got somebody else she’s really serious about.”

“So serious she is not even warm to him? Jasmine, even you are Cole’s friend.”

I glanced at our third, acutely aware that I’d never given him an answer to his proposal. That I’d just hoped he’d figure out on his own we could never be more than friends, but we’d be idiots to let a stunted romance get in the way of that. I waited for the light to dawn. For Cole to look at me with a sense of letting go.

Didn’t happen. He was too keyed on the mystery behind Iona.

“Maybe she’s some heiress trying to escape the clutches of her overbearing parents.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Maybe you should write for Harlequin.”

Vayl rose from the stool. “Try your charm on Rhona, Cole. Iona must have come with references. A woman like Viv’s mother would never hire someone otherwise. Perhaps we can trace her through her last employers. We also need to capture a picture of her as soon as possible. I cannot believe the one in our database is so badly out of focus.”

“That should be easy,” said Cole. “Our cameras are set to shoot the second they detect movement.”

“Are you sure Floraidh’s convinced they’re not just regular video monitors?” I asked.

Cole clapped a hand to his heart. “How could you think I’m such a bad actor? She believes we brought spectervids and electromagnetic field detectors and phantasonic probes for the ‘job’ we have lined up after this convention. And she couldn’t wait for us to set them up when Vayl started counting out the notes. Albert’s going to keep track of the feed while we’re gone in case Bea decides to do some setup work when she thinks the place is deserted.” Now it was his turn to frown. “You did clear my room? We wouldn’t want Dormal charging in there and using your dad for a rug beater when he’s turning out to be such a big help.”

“They’re all Scidair proof,” I assured him, practically grinding my teeth that Albert had recruited himself another fan. “I should go,” I said. “Floraidh could be leaving her room any minute.”

“Me too,” said Cole. “I want to make sure all the feeds are working before we take off.”

“Jasmine, would you wait a moment? We need to discuss the assassin’s most likely plan of attack.” As Cole hesitated at the door, Vayl said, “Go on. We’ll catch you up shortly.”

His face pinching like he’d just swallowed one of his gum balls whole, Cole stomped out the door and slammed it shut.

“What’s the deal?” I asked. “We’ve already decided Bea’s probably going to hit Floraidh while she’s asleep.”

“This.” Vayl grabbed me around the waist and backed me to the wall. Before I could take a decent breath his lips had covered mine. Fierce. Wild. Like taking a barrel over Niagara and stopping just short of the bottom. When he lifted Shenps his head I could hear myself panting.

“Again,” I breathed.

“Soon.”

Before I could truly see straight I found myself standing in the hallway, my hands braced against the wall because my legs still weren’t teaming up, listening to my heart pound against my ribs as Vayl’s door opened and closed just feet from my buzzing ears.

“Holy crap, I think I have just lassoed a comet.”

Chapter Twelve

As I hiked upstairs I pulled a thin silver case out of my back pocket. It held the communications device that would allow me to talk to the guys from a distance of at least two miles. Cole had decided we needed a cool name for it, something catchy like walkie-talkie, only much less lame. After trying out and rejecting possibilities that included chattie-splattie and speak’n freak, he’d settled on the party line.

The microphones resembled beauty marks. Mine rested beside my lip. The receivers, just slivers of clear-coated wire that used a dangly gold earring as an anchor, wound around and into the ear. When we’d tried them in the airport, Cole had commented that his hoop made him resemble a pirate. If he’d have slid on an eye patch and blackened a few teeth I might have agreed. But Vayl pulled his off the best. Maybe it was his Rom ancestry or Bergman’s sunscreen, but I thought he looked freaking hot. Kinda like Jake Gyllenhaal with fangs and a shudder-to-think-of-it past. Especially when he slapped on the transmitter, a barbed-wire tattoo that emphasized the bulge of his right bicep.

I grabbed the rail. Holy crap, are my knees spazzing out under me? I thought that only happened in Victorian romance novels! Geez, the next thing you know I’ll be having the vapors just when I need a steady aim!

Resolutely redirecting my thoughts to matters more supportive to my muscles—like whether I really believed Bergman’s wrist-launched Mongoose-juice was gonna work against Bea’s head fulla snakes—I made it to the fourth floor without once falling on my butt. When I reached the landing I noted the wall on my right, which led to Floraidh’s room, had been covered with peach-tinted paper featuring tiny white flowers with yellow centers.

Photos of the Scidairan and various women smiling as they posed in woodsy settings hung between the two doors to my left. I peeked in the first, surprised at how deep the linen closet ran. These old houses might not provide much storage space, but by damn when they built one, that sucker offered up some shelving. I didn’t try the knob to the next room, my senses telling me a run-in with Dormal would be the result. And since I didn’t have to play brave at the moment, I could freely admit she scared me a little. Walking close to her felt like sidling up to a pissed-off silverback.

With that in mind, I snapped the band of my way-cool watch, which had been storing up my kinetic energy for just such a moment. As I sneaked past the doors it helped shield the sound of my movements. With that and Tolly’s bracelet to protect me, I felt pretty confident that neither Scidairan could detect me.

As I passed Floraidh’s room, I noticed a unique symbo Vfonl inked on the upper-left-hand corner of the door. It resembled an upside-down Celtic cross. I didn’t stop to study it, but it looked as if a real diamond had been set in its center. A glance at Dormal’s door confirmed the same design.

Assuming Floraidh wouldn’t allow a camera up here, Cole had only asked if he could set up an ectoplasm sensor at the far end of the hall. It perched on a round, cloth-covered table, nestled against a silk flower arrangement like an electronic tumor. It resembled a pair of mini binoculars held upright by a small tripod. On top of the binoculars sat a rectangular scanner whose marquee lights blinked red, green, and yellow in quick succession. Bergman had disguised all the equipment so beautifully it could’ve convinced an avid fan of the Ghostbusters movies. I stuck my tongue out at the double lenses as I returned to the stairs to wait.

I took a seat a couple of steps below the landing, just out of sight of the hallway. My noodly legs thanked me for the break, encouraging me to review the events that had led to their less-than-stellar function. And I’d like nothing better than to lose myself in the memory of the past few minutes. My whole body tingled, like I’d taken a bath in hot peppers. I had a wild urge to run back to Vayl’s room, where I’d demand some sort of exotic striptease before shoving him onto his bed, after which—

Concentrate, Jaz. If Floraidh dies because you were fantasizing about the hunka-hunka-burning-love in the room next to yours, you will never, ever forgive yourself. Even if she is a certified scuz.

Within a couple of minutes I heard a door open. Then a knock. I eased to my feet. “Floraidh?” Dormal murmured.

Another click. “I’m ready.”

“You look worried.”

A pause. Small thump, as if Floraidh had let herself fall against the wall. “He came to me just now. Rose right out of Oengus’s skull. Just a vision, of course, but Lucifer! I could have had a heart attack, it happened so sudden!”

Dormal sounded shaken herself when she said, “What did he want?”

“We have to do it sooner. He said tonight. Tomorrow at the latest.”

“But . . . we’re not ready! We need a thousand more—”

“We have to find a way! That young stud and his chic boss gave me five hundred just now to set up their useless equipment. If we do well at the convention, we might make enough to force him to sell—”

“We can’t press the spell that hard and you know it! Manipulations like these must be finessed, or they’ll be discovered. Especially by a man with as tight a fist as that Haigh fellow. Scidair’s wig, Floraidh, this scheme of yours is going to get us burned!”

“Or make us the most powerful coven ever to walk the earth! Think what we could accomplish if we succeed!”

“Are you sure this isn’t personal?” Huh, I’d have expected worry in her tone still. But that almost sounds like jealousy.

“We’ve been over this!”

“Admi [sizt st to me you don’t miss—”

“This is about us! About our chance at eternity. Even Scidair finally had to leave the Path. If we succeed we will live forever!”

Low-voiced reply that I missed most of. The only words I caught were “I suppose” and “diamonds” before the women paused to think. Finally Flordaih said, “I might have an idea. Come on.” Bustle of big women’s thighs brushing quickly against one another as they rushed to the stairs. I sped down ahead of them.

“The Scidairans are on the move,” I reported, glad that the party line picked up whispers.

“We will meet you downstairs,” said Vayl.

“I’m getting the girls first,” Cole said.

“Bring me back something to eat that isn’t fruit,” Albert demanded. I knew we should’ve left him out of the loop!

I preceded Floraidh and Dormal into the lounge. As soon as they saw me they stopped whispering like a couple of backbiting adolescents and gave me their version of a friendly smile. “Ready to go?” asked Floraidh sweetly.

“Just about,” I said. “You know men. Always futzing with their clothes and makeup. I’m sure they’ll be down soon.”

She didn’t even blink at my joke. Just turned to Dormal and said, “Would you be a dear and check the oven? I can’t remember if I left it on or not.” Her head swiveled back to me as if an invisible hand had cranked it. “You know, if I leave that blessed old cooker on long enough without something stewing inside it, the stench begins to be enough to raise the dead!” She howled, opening her mouth wide to let all the mirth escape in a gust that might have knocked over a less hardy broad. Since I’d left Lucille in charge, she joined in Floraidh’s laughter, though she cut it off as soon as Dormal returned.

“All set,” she said, wiping her fingers on a blue-and-white-checked towel. What had she done in the brief time she’d been gone? She was sweating like a shot-putter at the World Championships. And I was pretty sure that gray smudge in the middle of her forehead wasn’t from bread mold.

What are you biddies up to? Before I could ask any probing questions, the rest of the guests trickled downstairs, first Vayl, then Cole, Viv, and Iona, followed by Rhona and the Haighs.

Iona had changed into a long denim skirt with a brown lace inset. It was held up by her teardrop belt, which she must’ve taken a buffer to since we’d last seen her, because it was now so shiny it almost glowed. Into it she’d tucked a gold short-sleeved sweater. Low-heeled boots completed the outfit.

Viv wore a boring beige knit dress that at least flattered her curves, and a pair of crimson heels with neat black bows at the toes. She and Cole were grinning at each other as they compared footwear, since his red high-tops matched her pumps. He’d opted for a pair of khakis with more pockets than a pool table and a black T-shirt with a Halloween ghost pictured on the front. The caption read, look after you leap club: charter member.

Rhona and Lesley Haigh hadn’t changed, though they’d definitely refreshed their lipstick. Why did o [ickdthlder ladies always go for cherry red? It made them look like corpses. And Humphrey had decided he needed extra cologne, which circled him like a life preserver as he came up to me.

I smiled as my nose hairs began to burn. Humphrey responded with equal kindness. “I couldn’t help but notice that lovely ring on your finger,” he said, motioning to Cirilai. “Curse of the trade, I suppose. Do you mind if I take a closer look?”

“Oh.” Shit yes! Get away from me, you reeking old penny-pincher! I raised my hand. “Not at all.”

He fished a jeweler’s glass out of his pocket and squinched it into his left eye. “Oh, my, that is exquisite. Where, may I ask, did you get it?”

“From Vayl.”

When Humphrey glanced his way, my sverhamin added, “It is a family piece.”

“Ahh.” He turned back to his inspection. “Would you mind taking it off? If I could just take a gander at the inside of the band—”

“Yes,” I said flatly, leaving Lucille to be polite to some other stranger. This one didn’t deserve her anymore. When he raised his eyebrows at me, as if he didn’t take my meaning, I pulled my hand out of his paw and wiped it down my pants. Suddenly I wouldn’t blame his wife if she had picked up a little hobby. This son of a bitch made me want to kill things, and I already had that outlet.

“Pardon me?” he said.

“I don’t take it off.” Okay, I had that one time. But it didn’t count because I’d been under the influence of funky Vampere powers. Plus Vayl had been acting like an ass. For the same reason.

Lesley bustled to my rescue. “Leave the poor thing alone, Humphrey,” she said, laying her hands on her husband’s tweed-covered arm. “Engaged girls don’t like to remove their rings.”

“Well, it’s damned hard on the stones and the settings,” Humphrey declared. “Better get that cleaned and checked regularly,” he said over his shoulder as his wife dragged him toward the front door, past Rhona and Floraidh, who were talking transportation.

“We were thinking of following you, if that’s all right,” Rhona said. “But is Castle Hoppringhill hard to find? And will you leave Tearlach open? We may want to return earlier than you’d planned to.”

Floraidh tapped her fingernail to her chin. “The castle is straight down the road, about three kilometers from here. And your room key will open the front door.” She dropped her arms as if coming to a decision. “Do let me know if you decide to leave GhostCon before me, won’t you? I’ll make sure Dormal goes back with you in case you find there’s something you need before you go to sleep.”

Yeah, you sound like a concerned innkeeper, but you just don’t want them nosing around your goodies unsupervised, do you, Floraidh?

As if she’d read my mind, the Scidairan shot me a sharp look. “Where is your man, Albert?” she asked.

The lie slid off my lips ready-made, as if my subconscious had done the baking in advance. I said, “The trip exhausted him, but [ustlie you know how it is when you’re overtired. He felt too juiced to nap. So he took a sleeping pill. He’ll be out till morning.”

Her satisfied smile let me know I’d hit the mark on my earlier guess. Floraidh must have more nasty crap hidden around here than just her bowl-o’-death. The realization made me wish I had the time, and the backing, to spotlight this woman’s ghosts. But since I had neither, I turned to ask Rhona a leading question about snakes.

A clatter from the kitchen startled me into silence. “What could that be?” wondered Dormal. She was such a bad actress she wouldn’t even have made the cut for a high school play.

We all shuffled into the hallway and stared at the kitchen door, as if we thought it might sprout lips and explain the antics of its hidden inhabitants.

“Perhaps one of your cats?” Vayl suggested.

“I can’t abide cats,” Floraidh said. “Dogs are fine, which is why I allowed you to bring yours along. But cats are sly, sneaky creatures. We don’t let them anywhere near the property.”

Rhona’s mouth dropped. I could see her prepping a protest. But Viv’s hand on her wrist held her back. Both women jumped at least an inch off the ground when another series of metallic clangs shot through the door.

“Do you have a maid?” asked Cole. “Because it sounds like somebody’s in there making milk shakes.”

We crept to the kitchen door like the original group of characters you see in a horror movie. If I’d been forced to pick our first victims of the masked serial killer with the steak knife/hanging rope/sharpened high heel . . . Viv and Lesley. They looked about as scared as you can get without puking or peeing yourself. Since they seemed like responsible adults, I assumed they’d used the bathroom before coming downstairs. That left the upchuck. I slipped to the back of the group, giving them uninterrupted aim at Dormal’s broad back just in case their cock-a-leekie soup came unglued.

Floraidh nodded at Cole and he opened the door, pushing it all the way into the room so the ten of us could squeeze into the doorway, as if a photographer on the other side had demanded a group shot of our heads peeking in from every which direction.

Viv hid her face in Cole’s shoulder and Lesley screamed as the brown-suited man who’d nearly wrecked our van hours before yanked another cookie sheet out of the cabinet and let it bang to the floor. He straightened and turned to the women, scratching his short brown beard as he searched their faces, as if trying to place them in his memory. He’d pushed his hat back, revealing the wasted planes of his face, making me wonder if the rest of his body looked just as skeletal. Hard to tell beneath all that loose material, especially the way he stood, with his shoulders hunched over his lean chest, as if he’d been punched by too many bullies as a kid and still felt his midsection needed protecting.

“Who are you?” demanded Iona, her fingers pressed firmly against her belt buckle as if she thought it might snap if she breathed any harder.

He pointed his finger at her. Then he opened his hand to encompass all of us. “King Brude is the master of this territory. Defy him at your peril! [at t h”

Floraidh and Dormal exchanged satisfied little smiles. Expressions I’d have missed if I hadn’t been watching for them.

“It’s a ghost!” shrieked Humphrey. Despite the fact that I could’ve used hysteria as an excuse, I stifled an urge to slap him. There’s always one dumbbell in the group who has to admit the obvious. As proven by his next statement. “He’s gone!”

Yup, as soon as Humphrey’d put a title to him, our visitor had faded. We squeezed through the door, fighting for space since all of us wanted to be the first to touch those cookie sheets, determine they at least were real. I made it through first. Picked one up and put it on the counter, where it banged just like it had when he’d touched it. Damn.

Rhona began polling us. “Did you see it? You did? Are you certain?” When she was satisfied she announced, “We have all seen a collective apparition! Here, in Tearlach! History has just been made!” In an aside to Lesley she added, “Wait’ll I tell the girls on the GAPT—Ghosts Are People Too—committee. They’ll be so jealous!”

Viv had collapsed into a chair, pale, shocked past tears. Iona knelt beside her, rubbing her hands as if she’d just come in from a blizzard. “Did you get that recorded?” Floraidh asked Cole. “With your spectrum doohickey, I mean?”

He shrugged. “I might have. Let me check.” He pulled out his Monise, a portable computer Bergman had designed. A multi-talented gadget, it talked to all the cameras as well as our laptop. “Un-freaking-believable,” he murmured.

“What is it?” asked Vayl, who’d come to stand beside me next to the stove. I badly wanted to crack it open, see if the death bowl still rested inside.

“No video from the kitchen. At least, nothing until we came in.” He glanced up at Floraidh. “I’m going to have to tinker with the settings. This shade is giving off much lower impulses than our equipment is built to record. But I think I can adjust it to pick up its energies if it comes back again.”

As she nodded, Rhona strode up to her and grasped her arm. “You must let me help this ghost. The GAPT group was made for this very purpose! To protect innocent souls like the one we just witnessed from the foul specters in their own plane as well as the crass abuse of establishments who would use them as little better than zoo specimens!”

Floraidh narrowed her eyes until Rhona snapped her hand away, as if the Scidairan’s skin had suddenly become too hot to handle. “We are a proper business. In my point of view, he was trespassing. If he returns, I can’t be responsible for who sees him. And if it happens to be a group of tourists who have come calling just for that purpose, so much the better. I’ve got to make a living same as anyone else.”

“WHAT!”

Viv leaped at her mother, with Iona following so closely the three of them resembled a huddling football team as Viv’s fingers flew. Iona turned her back to Rhona as she interpreted. “Viv says maybe we should all get going. The convention organizers won’t wait for us, even if her mum is presenting later in the week.”

Rhona tried to shove through the shoulders of the younger girls so she could confront Floraidh a [ont wis she spluttered, “You can’t just put him on display like some sort of trophy! He’s an innocent man!”

“No man is innocent, especially not that one.” Floraidh made an I’ve-sucked-the-lemon-now face as she realized she might’ve let a little too much information slip. Then she rushed on, maybe hoping that none of us would stop to wonder how she knew the dead guy from the late nineteenth century. “I’ll be welcoming tour groups through during the GhostCon if they wish to come. They won’t be allowed to disturb your rest, of course. But if you prefer to find another place to stay, I completely understand.”

“There IS no other place to stay! Every room within fifty miles has been sold out for the past six months!” Rhona declared.

“Well, then, I’ll just have to do my best to see that your time here is as pleasant as I can possibly make it.” Syrupy sweet, that voice, and so fake that if somebody could’ve given it shape and form, a plastic surgeon could’ve used it to round out some flat-assed woman’s derriere.

“Oh! Oh!” said Rhona, her tank turret bouncing as she bobbed her head like she was trying to click off a few rounds and fuming because some blockhead had loaded all the guns with dummy shells. I looked into those bloodshot brown eyes of hers. Yup, if she could’ve, she’d have blown Floraidh to bits right there on the shiny wood floor. Which made her a more likely suspect. And me less inclined to stop her once she made her move.

I needed a conference.

Chapter Thirteen

While Viv’s fingers flew and Iona murmured in a comforting tone, Floraidh moved to take a rectangular black silk shawl off of its spot on the coatrack by the front door. She flung it around her shoulders, covering the V-neck of her silky brown blouse, which complemented the teal in her stretchy slacks rather nicely. In contrast, Dormal’s Alice in Wonderland ate-the-cake size probably made it tough for her to find socks that fit. Which might explain why she’d pulled on a white pantsuit whose jacket wouldn’t button over her powder-blue polyester shirt and whose bottoms stopped an inch above her ankles. From the way she kept shifting they also looked to be giving her a permanent wedgie.

I dove into the uncomfortable silence like a first-timer off the cliffs of Hawaii. “Jeremy, if we’re going to have a bunch of tourists cruising through here, maybe we should go outside and make sure our equipment is set up in more discreet locations,” I said. Yup, that sounded just as awkward and loud as it had felt. Geez, why couldn’t they grow grace in a test tube and then glue it to your personality like they do hair extensions?

Vayl said, “An excellent idea, Lucille. Do you suppose we have the time for that, Floraidh?”

“If you can accomplish it in ten minutes. We really must leave after that.”

“Ten minutes it will be, then.”

We slipped out the kitchen door, which took us into the garden I’d seen earlier, a grid of rock-lined plots containing masses of edibles that reached toward the last rays of the setting sun. We went to the first camera, which Cole had set up near the front corner of the house where the ^laslane curved around to meet the barn. While Vayl moved it to the other side of the lane I told him about Dormal and Floraidh’s discussion. “That makes this ghost’s appearance quite convenient, does it not?” he asked.

“It’s not a ghost.”

“No?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you about the time I spent with Tolly Mendez, but she’s kind of an expert on Scidairans. And she told me ghosts disrupt their magic.”

“Why is that?”

“Nobody’s sure. The current theory is that because the Scidairans’ main goal is to avoid death, and ghosts kind of personify that, the two mix about as well as geeks and gladiators.”

Vayl said, “So, assuming we did not just see a ghost, what was it? I would not guess hologram. I do not believe they had the time to subvert our technology.” I kinda thought he knew the answer and was just quizzing me. Good old Vayl. Why offer up your own vast store of knowledge when you have so much more fun eeking small nuggets out of others? Luckily I’d been paying attention in college.

I said, “I agree she wasn’t playing camera tricks. But were you watching Dormal during that whole episode?”

“Not the entire time,” he said.

“Me neither, but I did give her a glance or two, and she was working her ass off. Sweating, wordless chanting, and a couple of tugs at her hair. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I think she’s got something tied up under that shaggy do, because as soon as she touched it my senses went zapola. Considering that our visitor came with a message, I think what he was, what she raised, was a loeden.”

Vayl’s brows lifted. Okay, I admit, I’d reached with that one. Loeden weren’t ghosts, but they weren’t alive either. I wasn’t sure where they fit into the nether hierarchy, except that as its postal system, they probably ranked near the bottom.

He said, “That is a powerful drawing spell. Especially for a single Scidairan.”

“Well, who’s to say she did it all by herself? They’ve got a whole coven going on. And even if the rest of them are lying low to keep the guests from bolting, they could’ve stored their powers somewhere for her to draw on. Kinda like the juice in all those masks the vamps had displayed on the wall back in your old Trust.”

The tightening of Vayl’s jaws told me he didn’t appreciate the reminder of the time, not long ago, when his former mate had tried to suck him back into the community he’d barely escaped a century before.

I hesitated, reached out, and rested my hand on his where it gripped the camera’s tripod. The other held just as tight to the blue jewel that topped his cane. I said, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No. You are my avhar. That gives you the right, no, the responsibility, to speak your mind.”

“It doesn’t mean I should dump on your feelings along the way.”

His expression reminded me of a kid seeing an a cid ”Really? Is that all it takes? You are so easy.

“Maybe there’s hope for them both yet,” I said.

His smile, so wide that it showed fangs, might’ve made me run once. Now I just responded to that fierce happiness with a couple of hard nods. No doubt anything else would’ve led to indecent exposure and my eventual humiliating arrest.

“Let’s say Dormal did do a spell,” I suggested, reminding him of why we’d left the house in the first place. “Maybe Floraidh even gave her a boost in there.”

“It is possible,” Vayl replied after taking a deep breath. “She was the one I watched the most, and I did note a few odd gestures that might be attributed to spell work.”

I sighed. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Because Bea is the one we’re after.”

Vayl nodded. “You are correct. But perhaps, once we know who the ashes belong to, we may take a new approach to this mission.”

We shared a grim nod, understanding how remote that possibility stood right now. I said, “Remember, she was talking about somebody’s bones earlier. What if she murdered the guy we just saw?”

“We turn her over to the authorities.”

“Vayl, if you’re right about his age, he’s probably been dead over a hundred and twenty years. Which means she’s done a helluva job ducking death. And I’m pretty sure it also means the statute of limitations on that crime expired a long time ago.”

“Not as far as I am concerned.”

“What, are you going all maverick on me now?” And do you know how much that turns me on?

“Not over this issue,” he said seriously. “I simply mean there are courts other than those you humans run. Ones that would burn her to ash if we proved she had killed a man with magic.”

I felt my eyes go oh-boy round. I’d never heard of such a thing before. Here again was part of that avhar/sverhamin deal Vayl had warned me about. One of the perks of our bond was info on the world of others. But he only leaked it when he thought I’d earned the right to hear it.

I said, “That sounds—interesting. And taking out Samos’s strongest allies makes me feel a little bit like a kid again. But won’t it upset the bad-guy balance the new Oversight Committee is trying to maintain?”

Vayl’s eyes went black so suddenly I felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. I’d seen him mad. Just not this fast. And when he spoke, it was with the absolute lack of mercy he usually reserved for our targets. “You have not spoken with the senators, have you?”

“No.”

“Avoid it. They are an ev cThe%">en bigger group of fools than the last. All of them have agendas that lead me to believe they do not have our, or the department’s, best interests at heart.”

“O-kay . . .”

Vayl pinned his eyes to mine. I shivered and then stood still, thinking, Wow, what did they do to piss him off? He said, “While we will do our utmost to complete our assignments as charged, we are no longer concerning ourselves with what the Oversight Committee does or does not recommend, should extenuating circumstances force us to act independently.”

“Did you get that from Pete?”

“No. He is too bound by their budget to dare oppose their harebrained suggestions.”

“Vayl?” I licked my lips, trying to convince myself the fist squeezing my guts wasn’t a scary premonition. “Are you going to get me fired?”

Those black-on-black eyes bored into my brain as his husky baritone echoed in my ears for several minutes after. “Maybe.”

Chapter Fourteen

After that neither of us had much left to say. We joined everybody at the front door and led our group to the van while the rest went to their cars, which were parked in a small paved lot just off the circular drive our vehicle dominated. I kept my eye on Rhona, secretly hoping she’d stage a big catfight. That would be a nice distraction from my dark thoughts. Unfortunately Viv and Iona stuck to her like a couple of Secret Service agents, hustling her into a titan-gray Bentley Brooklands before she could do anything worse than shoot Floraidh a dirty look.

So I drove the three miles to Castle Hoppringhill, following Floraidh’s blue Volkswagen Polo and Rhona’s I’m-a-bitch, hear-me-roar car down black and winding roads. Our pace would ordinarily make me scream at them to move the parade route off the main drag. But I was so distracted I only vaguely registered the fact that I’d reached down for a comforting Jack scratch and encountered an empty space where he usually sat. Because Vayl was going to get me fired. I just knew it. And my brain couldn’t decide whether to shriek or explode.

No, I’m not doing this again. Flipping out about possibly losing this job while I try to kick ass at it. I can’t function like that anymore. I won’t. I took a deep breath. I’m gonna help Vayl whip this mission. And if there’s any bullshit to straighten out afterward, I’ll deal with it then. Wait, can you straighten bullshit? Maybe “flatten” would be better?

Having made a game plan, I felt more focused than I had since Albert had shown up at Gatwick’s Gate Three, toting his ratty brown overnight bag, his Bears jacket hooked over one arm. I didn’t think I could’ve been more blown away if he’d shoved the barrel of his .45 against my forehead and shot my brains out the back of my skull. It was nice to finally regain some of that balance.

I glanced into the rearview. Lesley and Humphrey had taken the seat just behind mine, their silence making me wonder if they’d had a fight during my brief absence from the group. Maybe she’d finally told him to stop acting like such an ass.

f fiCole sat alone in the back while Vayl rode shotgun, keeping a sharp eye on the vehicles in front of us and the surrounding area. So far, nothing. Bea was still playing it conservative. Good call. I wouldn’t pull a hit while guests crowded Floraidh either. Better to wait until everybody was snoozing. Especially if you really are a Medusa.

When the castle appeared, shooting above the surrounding trees like an enormous old war machine, my first reaction was relief that I wasn’t a raider trying to take down the well-armed Scotsmen inside. Damn. That massive collection of towers and battlements seemed to stretch for a couple of miles in every direction. Not to mention the wall around it, which was only interrupted by a single electric gate. And once we got inside, we had to cross a stream using one of those plank bridges that made you feel if you put a tire wrong you’d end up replacing your entire exhaust system.

GhostCon workers, wearing orange vests and waving glowing yellow devices that looked so much like dildos I could hear Cole snickering behind me, directed us to a stretch of lawn beyond the castle’s interior wall. Green as a golf course, it was big enough to hold eighteen holes, so the couple of hundred cars lined up in neat rows fit just fine.

Granny May, who spent a lot of time lounging around the forefront of my brain, had taken to hanging out the wash as she did her imaginary gabbing with me. She used the old-fashioned, no-spring clothespins, and her line kind of sagged in the middle because Gramps Lew tended to let home improvement chores go until he finally got fed up with her bitching. As I pulled into a space between a couple of vehicles that looked more like packing crates than automobiles, she said, Take a look at this parking lot! These ghostlusters are crawling out of the damn woodwork!

Some patience, Gran. A lot of them are here because they’ve lost somebody dear to them and they think the person’s still floating around.

What would you do if you thought I was a ghost?

Force you into business. You’d be great entertainment at slumber parties.

We managed the hike to the ironbound front doors without losing anyone, though Dormal was panting slightly from carrying bags and boxes, and the Haighs complained the whole way that the Con organizers should’ve picked a more accessible spot for their gathering.

Cole rolled his eyes at Iona, who responded with an indifferent shrug. Despite her lack of interest in him, we’d still decided he should stick with the girls. Since Viv clearly dug him and Iona had to hang with her, he shouldn’t have a problem keeping an eye on them. Plus Rhona should stay close to Viv, giving him charge of three suspect-Beas. But the matchup couldn’t be too obvious. So we’d come up with a plan that would lump them together, leaving Vayl and me to shadow the Scidairans and the Haighs. Of course, the fluidity of events might require us to change partners and responsibilities, but at least we had a place to start.

Our plan began along with GhostCon, just inside the front door. In a hall where sky-high pillars held up the room’s corners, and a parquet floor had been designed to portray the story of Morag emerging from Loch Morar to bite off some poor fisherman’s head, convention organizers dressed in black polo shirts and beige slacks had set up two rows of tables on opposite sides of the entryway. k thn o Behind the tables to our left sat four groups of two women, each of them guarding a stack of papers, a three-by-five file holding preprinted name cards, and plastic badges on red lanyards. Signs taped to the front of the tables told us where to line up alphabetically if we were preregistered. Another sign directed walk-ins to the other side of the aisle.

People packed the room. Some of the overflow even straggled up the grand staircase, which intersected the walk-in tables like a superhighway. It, in itself, caught the imagination with its enormous stone balusters and a mile-long tapestry at the first landing depicting a coiled serpent with a dragon’s head rearing to strike as a knight charged it with a burning lance. Pretty striking stuff. But even that didn’t draw the eye like the paying customers.

When I say they dressed for the occasion, I’m talking costuming by Hollywood on its best day. I recognized Dickens’s Christmas ghosts, as well as Casper, the Headless Horseman, and Harry Potter’s poltergeist, Peeves. Others had chosen less identifiable characters. Guys in monks’ robes with fake axes buried in their heads. Women in eighteenth-century frocks with nooses dangling from their necks. And one odd couple whose blue makeup and sewn-on kelp seemed to symbolize a double drowning. I got the feeling the getups were supposed to be cool, but I kept getting the oddest urge to whip out handfuls of candy for their tricks-or-treats.

All of us Tearlachers found our respective tables and took our places in line. Floraidh finished first, but decided to wait for Dormal, whose line wound around a metal pole with a red velvet rope connecting it to another pole standing in the center of the room. I guess that’s how karma slaps you when you claim your last name is Smith.

When it was my turn I pasted on my best smile and said, “Lucille Robinson.” The volunteer looked up at me. And just as I was thinking she should never sport a ponytail because it made her look like she needed a year’s supply of Rogaine, her face did one of those stretchy numbers the TV camera sometimes pulls to simulate an acid trip.

I leaned forward, bracing my left hand on the table, moving my right into my jacket. As my fingers slid around the grip of my gun, another face swam into focus on top of hers. Edward Samos. Looking healthy and smug as a Grand Champion Fair pig. “Such power in a name,” he said. “Can you really kill a man if you don’t know his true identity?”

Since Cole’s cover name started with a T, his was the hand that snaked out to pull me upright. “Lucille? Are you okay?”

No way was I looking away from that face again. “Are you feeling anything . . . unusual right now?” I asked Cole.

Samos’s body clapped her hands. She said, “Oooh, are you channeling a Visitor? We usually get quite a few at the opening ceremonies.” The longer she talked, the less she resembled my nemesis, as if his features melted into hers with each expression switch.

Cole said, “No. I’ve got nothing.”

I grabbed the tag the woman held out for me and backed up a step. “Me neither. Not really.” By now Samos had faded completely. Son of a bitch! I can’t really be seeing his ghost. Can I? But that would be better than the alternative. Which would be that I’m losing my marbles. Again.

I mentally reviewed the moment of his death. It had seemed like every other vampire’s passing. That horrified moment of realization. And then, poof. Vapor, wafting away on the wind while the few bits and pieces that remained of his physical self fell to the ground. But before that. Just prior to the big finale, he’d scraped up a small pile of grass and dirt, spit on it, and begun to chant over it in a language I now knew belonged to the followers of Scidair.

Did he manage to save some part of himself? And if so, how can I find out for sure?

I know one tall, buzz cut, and handsome bumming around in the stratus that you haven’t talked to in a while, said Granny May as she bent over her brown wicker laundry basket. He’d probably have an idea. Or at least give you some peace in the matter.

He’s not allowed to interfere. Besides.

What?

He doesn’t like Vayl.

So?

I haven’t figured out how I feel about that, okay? I thought we were all pretty much on the same team.

There’s dissent in every rank.

But he’s supposed to be above that. Literally. He’s an Eldhayr, for crying out loud!

Granny May shoved back the edge of the sheet she’d just clipped to the clothesline. From what I understand, so are you.

Okay, we’re not even going there. You got that?

She gave a whatever shrug. Raoul is your Spirit Guide. Sooner or later you’re going to have to work something out with him.

You dropped a sock.

Where?

With my sensible side distracted, I ignored the problem a while longer while I assured Cole I was fine. I moved toward the murmuring crowd filling the back section of the front hall and heading toward the open doors of the great room, where most of the activities would take place. I took a program from a woman dressed in the Hoppringhill tartan and used it to fan myself as I leaned against a wall and eyed the rest of Tearlach’s guests back at the registration tables. Cole sidled up beside me.

“I’ll bet this place is a bitch to clean,” I said as I motioned to the series of velvet banners hanging from the ceiling.

Cole didn’t want to talk about dusting. At least not that kind. “Tell me you weren’t going to pull on that nice woman,” he murmured.

Vayl’s voice filled my left ear. “Did the clerk threaten Floraidh?”

I didn’t want to tell him the truth. But what kind of lie would make me sound less crazed? I said, “Her face morphed into somebody else’s while I was looking at her, talked to me in his voice, and then changed back.”

“Who?”in t>

“Samos.”

He didn’t laugh. Not even that choking gasp that passed for his chuckle. “Has this happened before?”

“Yeah, once on the plane. And once at Gatwick, when I was standing at the counter, waiting to buy a muffin.”

“We need to discuss this. But now Floraidh and Dormal are moving toward the great room. I overheard them discussing their table setup. Perhaps you two should take your places.”

Cole and I allowed the Scidairans to pass and then moved into the crowd after them. As we ambled toward the arched openings leading to a vast, open-span room, Rhona came up from behind me and grasped my forearm, her grip bruising. “Come on, now, let me give you the grand tour,” she said as she dragged me forward. “On the way we can talk about parliamentary reform. Did you know my MP has a degree in Occult Studies?”

Just as I was narrowing my choices of pressure points and taking advance pleasure in the look on Rhona’s face when I knocked her out, Vayl reached my side. Rolling our plan into motion he said, “Rhona, I believe Iona is looking for you. They cannot seem to find Viv’s identification tag or her name on the list. The woman is getting rude, which is upsetting her. She says she wants to go back to the B and B.”

Rhona dropped her hand and swung around like she was about to pound through the doors of the nearest saloon and gun down the first hombre who crossed her. “These people are complete nitwits! Now do you see why I prefer dealing with the dead?” As she stalked off, Vayl slipped Cole the missing papers.

Palming them so neatly I wondered if he’d worked his way through college as a card shark, Cole said, “Hang on, Rhona. Maybe I can help. I once organized my Scout troop’s father-son wiener roast.” Flashing us a grin, he strode after her.

Chapter Fifteen

With the Jepson group about to fall into Cole’s debt and his charm dialed to life-of-the-party, Vayl and I felt comfortable turning our backs on them for the time it took to lock on to the rest of Tearlach’s boarders and assess the most likely means of Bea’s attack, should it come during the opening ceremonies.

Lesley and Humphrey had hustled to the front row, where they’d scooped up the seats to the right of the aisle and, from the look of their campsite, didn’t intend to release them for the duration of the Con. Floraidh and Dormal, weighed down with supplies for their booth, were working their way through a swelling crowd of avid ghost fans who’d only now begun to seat themselves. Most still stood in groups of anywhere from two to fifteen among the double rows of chairs set up in the east half of the red-carpeted room. They kept looking eagerly toward a temporary platform, on which the organizers had placed a podium with a microphone wired to two large black speakers that sat at the front corners of the stage. A pair of long, narrow tables set with pitchers of water and glasses, and slightly nicer chairs than the ones reserved for the audience, flanked the podium.

You reached the entire setup via a set of rickety stairs that made me hope all the speakers had sworn off donuts the month before. If the n thy made it safely to their seats, they might be impressed by the roughly plastered wall, which soared to a peak behind them. It had been painted with a massive representation of the Hoppringhill’s coat of arms, five scallops on a crossed scarlet ribbon.

A minute later Floraidh and Dormal popped out of the crowd onto the west side of the great room. This held a variety of booths, some built to resemble lemonade stands, some looking like mazes with their multiple lattice walls folding in odd directions. This portion of the room could be shut off by an electronically controlled curtain that moved up and down like a shade. At the moment only a couple of feet of it peeked out of its tubular metal ceiling-mounted casing.

The Scidairans found their booth right away. The haunted-house facade, complete with a ghostly figure staring out the tower window, was kinda hard to miss. A young woman dressed in white sat on the “front porch” behind a long wooden table. Dormal started unpacking while Floraidh chatted with the woman, who had to be a coven member. Even from across the room she scented other to me. But without my Sensitivity I think I’d still have guessed bad guy the second I laid eyes on her. She had Floraidh’s steam-cleaned demeanor, her bouncy blond hair and rosy cheeks making her seem like the kind of girl who’d organize a food drive for the homeless. Until you spent some time on those snapping brown eyes that left her lips and teeth to smile without them. Plus, she let them linger on people a beat too long. Like a python who’s sizing up her next meal. Floraidh said something to her and she bared those teeth again. Was it me, or did they seem a little sharper than your normal burger grinders?

“I wonder what they are talking about,” said Vayl.

“Too bad we couldn’t put a bug on them. I wonder if they really would’ve found it.”

Vayl’s shrug was less, I don’t know, than, Hey, you’re the one who consulted the Wiccan.

I opened the program as Floraidh and Dormal turned back toward us. While Vayl kept an eye on them I began to read. A couple of paragraphs later I said, “These Connies function like vampires.”

“Excuse me—Connies?”

“Yeah, you know, people who spaz out over theme conventions? Like that dude over there who’s dressed as Hamlet’s father?”

“Ah, I see. Go on.”

“They’ve got a whole night full of goodies planned. Panel discussions here in the great room. Smaller talks by different experts in the kitchen, dining room, library, and billiard room, not to mention several of the bigger bedrooms. GhostWalks every fifteen minutes starting right outside the front door. Those you have to pay extra for.”

“How long do the opening ceremonies take?” Vayl asked.

“Half an hour. It looks like the lights are going out at the end, so be ready for that,” I said. “They’ve hired a couple of the best Raisers in the biz, according to the program. Gerard Plontan and Francine Werry. Have you heard of them?”

Vayl shook his head. “Should we assume they know what they are doing?”

“Well, they’re here. That’s p sherat robably significant. This says they’re going to try to summon the castle ghosts for the crowd.” I held the booklet up for him to see. “They actually have a warning in here for people to keep their hands off the phantoms.”

We looked at each other and together chimed, “Liability.”

Vayl added, “Surely everyone here understands how angry a shade would become if he were to be touched by the warmth of humanity. The reminder would throw him right back into the Thin.”

“It seems weird to me that a place like that should exist,” I said.

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I just wouldn’t think either side would tolerate such chaos.”

Vayl shook his head. “You must always factor in freedom of choice, my pretera.”

I thought of the deaths I’d witnessed since my Sensitivity kicked in. The multifaceted souls that had split apart like shards from a perfect stone, each of them taking off in a new direction.

“I’m trying to imagine why any bit of a soul would want to linger in a place as brutal as the Thin,” I said.

“Come now,” Vayl scoffed.

“No, really, I don’t get it.”

He leaned in, took a deep breath with his eyes closed, as if the smell of my shampoo made his digits tingle. “Life is sweet. Even when all you can hope for is to catch the scent of a human heart filling its body with vigor.”

“Is that—”

“No. You know you mean infinitely more to me than that. Now, what else is in the program?”

I flipped through the pages. “Well, according to the program, the castle has at least seven ghosts ranging from a warrior who died at Culloden, to a young groom who was kicked in the head by a horse, to a nineteenth-century owner who either fell, jumped, or was pushed from an upper-story window, leaving his wife free to marry the guy she’d been boffing on the side. But in case you start feeling too bad for him, she died six months later and is rumored to haunt the bedroom where the cheating took place.” I looked up at Vayl. “She did it right under his nose?”

“He must have been stupid and blind.”

The lights dimmed, like in a theater setting, to let the crowd know the show was about to begin. People took their seats, led by the convention’s star speakers. They crested the scary steps without incident (though the middle one creaked alarmingly beneath one guy who probably hadn’t seen his toes since 1975).

Floraidh and Dormal found a spot left of the aisle, about halfway back. We worked our way toward them as Cole’s voice rang on the party line. “No, really, it was nothing. I’m just good at finding things, that’s all. When my mom misplaces her purse she still calls me.”

Trickle of appreciative feminine laughter as he went on. “Hey, I see Lucille and Jeremy. Should we sit with them?”

“Are you okay?” I asked, then immediately wished I hadn’t. My backbone was going to buckle if I couldn’t learn to deal with Vayl in pain.

“The ghost has retreated. Something put it off the moment I moved into the aisle. Perhaps Francine and Gerard have convinced it to behave once more.”

“How about you, Cole?” I asked, mainly to cover up the massive relief I felt at Vayl’s news.

“I’ve lost Iona,” Cole said.

“Find her quick,” I told him. “We don’t want anybody snakebit.” And if you catch her trying to control this reptile, so much the better. This mission sucks and I wanna go home.

Staying off the floor whenever possible, I stepped from row to row, approaching the stage at a diagonal. Francine hadn’t seen the snake, which held its place closest to her. It hesitated, as if undecided what to do next. But when forty of its fellows joined it, I realized what was happening.

“It’s going to be a mass assault,” I said. Now that I’d made it closer to the stage I added, “And they are Inland Taipans. Bea definitely has an affinity for snakes, but she’s not a Medusa.” Which is somewhat of a relief. But not much. Because she must be wielding some major wham to be able to transport and control that many wild, venomous creatures.

Vayl glanced back to the stage, took note of what I’d just described, and said a bad word into our receivers. He never swore. Unless, apparently, the danger was snake related. “Let us get moving, ladies,” he urged. I could see him shoving people aside now.

Dormal had stopped in her tracks, allowing traffic to flow around her like a highway median. The group had nearly reached her when Floraidh stumbled. She’d have fallen, and probably been stomped by the people behind her, if her Gatherer hadn’t caught her.

The snakes began to move, slithering down the speaker and across the stage like a living carpet. They didn’t spread out much or move in random directions. It was as if an unseen hand guided them resolutely in a single direction. Forward, down the edge of the platform, onto the event floor.

The Connies who’d seen them spread the hysteria quickly, so that everyone who hadn’t panicked to start with now began screaming and shoving, the people in the back literally crawling on top of those in front of them to avoid the reptiles at their heels.

The last of the crowd had made it halfway down the aisle now. But the snakes were advancing. When the Connies realized they couldn’t escape straight ahead, they voted for the side routes and began parting like the waters of the Red Sea.

My group had nearly made it to the door. The cushion between them and the Taipans had flattened alarmingly as the crowd scattered. And yet I could practically feel their freedom, like the cool hard steel of a cell key in my fingers. But they were never going to make it without help. And I had so little to offer.

I could try some spark and sizzle. But I’d probably end up burning the castle down. Plus with my luck, I’d end up ashing out the last corner of sweetness left in my soul. So, despite my misgivings, I kicked in the Mongoose.

At the time Bergman had invented the gizmo, we’d figured on battling a Medusa. So it was geared to hit a human-sized target. Not a huge problem, considering the snakes still hung together, tightly woven as a carpet. The issue, frankly, was Bergman, whose prototypes let me down about ninety percent of the time. Already I was thinking, What am I going to do when this doesn’t work?

Feeling a doomed sort of resignation, I pulled up my left sleeve, pointed the device at the Inland Taipans, and triggered it. White foam poured out of the spout as if it was a fire extinguisher. Wherever it hit, the snakes began to writhe wildly as smoke rose from their glistening scales. Even better, their neighbors abandoned the Floraidh chase and began to attack them.

It’s working! Holy crap, Bergman, you’re a genius!

A booming echo rang in my ears as the main doors closed, leaving me and thirty-odd people stuck in the great room with maybe half of Bea’s attack snakes still crawling. But the rest of my crew held out, safe, on the other side. Cool. Right?

I moved down the aisle, almost back to the spot where I’d started, and shot the last of the foam at the Taipans. Now I could count the remaining threats on the fingers of one hand. I pulled out Rhona’s .38.

As I took aim I felt the familiar scent of pine that told me Vayl had returned. Considering how he felt about snakes, he must be gripping his self-control with white-knuckled fingers.

I squeezed off a shot, sending one of the reptiles flopping as my sverhamin slid up behind me.

“Could you use some help?”

Part of me wanted to reach back and hug him. But he wasn’t a three-year-old hoping to be rewarded for his brave-boy moves. “I wouldn’t mind if you dropped the temperature by a few,” I said. “These suckers are quick.”

The familiar glacial breeze of his power chilled the snakes’ blood, slowing their advance.

Two more shots. Two more dead critters bleeding onto the carpet while the remaining two sank their fangs into the twitching bodies. I was siting in my final target when Vayl yanked me backward, falling with me on top of him, onto the carpet.

“What the hell?” Then I saw the Highlander, swooping just over our heads. I ducked, covering the cut on my arm as I spread myself across Vayl’s vulnerable chest wounds. But the warrior wasn’t interested in us. He wanted the snakes.

He dove over the chair Rhona had crashed and into the pile of Taipans like a blitzing linebacker, making the corpses shiver as he hit them. The blood on the ones I’d shot splattered onto the remaining, living snake. The Highlander immediately hit it, leaving gashes all along its length. It writhed in agony as the ghost slashed again and again until at last the snake lay still.

“Highlander!” Francine commanded. I peered through the legs of the chairs just in time to see the Raiser lift a newly dripping arm. I thought the phantom would fly straight down the aisle to her. Instead it came back at us. We flattened ourselves one more time as it buzzed us, then rose to the ceiling. It looped around, ƒlooraigaining color and form, and floated sedately to Francine’s feet.

“Are you all right?” Vayl asked.

“Uh.” I took inward stock. All the imaginary people in my head had huddled together in a closet, as if to escape a tornado. Upon realizing they wouldn’t be eaten by a ghost or paralyzed by deadly venom they sent up a single, shuddering shout. Fuck! “Yup,” I said as I swallowed a hysterical giggle. “I’m fine.” Deciding it might be appropriate to give him some space, I tried to climb onto a chair. He wrapped his arms around me.

“A moment please,” he murmured, lifting his head so he could breathe in my scent. His eyes closed, a smile lifting one corner of his lips as if he was savoring a rose.

When he dropped his head I asked, “Better?”

He opened his eyes. “Talk to me.”

“Okay. Let’s discuss suspects.” I thought he’d make fun of me, choosing work over, well, you know. We were cuddling like a couple of newlyweds. But public displays kinda freaked me out. And I didn’t need any more stress at the moment.

“Do you know what I think?” he asked mildly.

“I doubt it.”

“Viv did this.”

“But . . . she’s so fragile!”

“She was deeply upset just now. I have heard of mages needing that kind of extreme emotion to help them raise the kind of power required to call forty exotic snakes into a room.”

“A female mage—isn’t that kind of rare?”

He shrugged. “It is not beyond the realm of possibility. Who would you choose as our culprit?”

“Humphrey,” I said instantly. “I know. Bea would actually have to be a guy. And it’s probably not him anyway, because he irritates the crap out of me and that would be too satisfying. Do you think . . . Rhona?”

Vayl raised his eyes to the ceiling as he considered. “Perhaps. That entire outburst tonight might have been staged. Or the snakes may be an outgrowth of her rage. One she is not even aware of.”

We looked at each other for about five seconds before, at the same time, we said, “Rhona is not Bea.”

I went on. “I thought about Bea being clueless as to her true identity, at least part of the time. But even she wouldn’t be so stupid as to draw a gun in a public place like that.” Without really considering the consequences, I ran my fingers through his curls, smiling at the soft silky feeling against my fingertips. Such a contrast to the rest of him. “Don’t you think we have to consider who Bea’s going up against? This is no ordinary hit, you know. She’s got to know what she’s getting into, and that if she doesn’t play it smart every second of the day she’s going to be real dead, real quick.”

“Iona certainly has more going on than meets the eye.”

“Yeah. Did you see her case the room before the program started? And the wayƒed?eye she handled Rhona? That’s cop training if I’ve ever seen it. Which would give her a solid background to go into business for herself.”

“Thank you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I . . .” He took a deep breath, glanced at the snakes. “I just needed to talk sensibly for a moment. As if those creatures had not just chased me down the carpet like a mass of ravenous multiheaded dragon spawn.”

I brought my hand down to his face. Took time I’d never had before to brush my fingers against the hard planes of his jaw and cheekbones, to wonder how the slant of his dark brows and the shape of his glittering green eyes had managed to sear themselves into my soul. And I knew, if I traveled through eternity or lived a million lives, I would always find him, always know and love him with the kind of fiery passion that scares the hell out of you because, God, it burns. And yet when you’ve walked out the other side you know you haven’t lived until this moment.

“Vayl, I . . .” No, not here. Not bleeding on the floor. Say something else, not as important, but still meaningful. “I want to thank you for what you did before. Taking those hits for me.” I blinked, surprised to find tears welling. “It means a lot to me.” More even than I’d realized.

“You are my avhar. I would die for you.”

I grimaced. “I’d much rather you didn’t.”

The smile lit his eyes first. “Then I will simply say, you are welcome.” He ran his hands lightly up and down my back. Shifted slightly beneath me. “Jasmine?”

“Yeah?”

“When you look at me that way, it is difficult for me to remember I am still in public.”

I looked around. The survivors had huddled into small groups of five or six. Nobody had opened the door yet. Maybe they were afraid the snakes would revive. Or they were still pissed they’d been shut out. “Everybody’s pretty distracted,” I whispered.

“Yet, I would not trust my—”

I silenced him with a kiss, slow and delicious, one to savor the next time we were apart. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t ever die.”

He raised his hand, slid it around my neck, his thumb brushing up under my chin as he leaned in to nuzzle my bottom lip. “I shall live forever, if that is your wish.”

“It’s a start.” I plastered myself against him, marveling at how well we fit together, wrapping my arms around him so tight I’d have worried about crushing some ribs if he hadn’t been Vampere.

When he opened his lips, I gave him the kiss that had been building in me since the last time. Hot-breathed, lips and tongue, clinging bodies that couldn’t wait to move on, dammit!

I moaned when Vayl lifted his head. “Don’t stop.”

>“No, not okay. The woman’s dead, for chrissake. And you’re standing there spitting on her grave. She was a good mother to you—”

“No. Not even close.” I strode toward the bed, each step fueling my rage. I sat on the edge beside him so the lamplight caught me at the edge of its glow. “You wouldn’t know, because you were gone. Always off defending the country when you should’ve been protecting me.” The last came out like I’d shoved it through a grater, shredded and somewhat battered.

Before he could demand to know what I meant, I tore off my jacket, yanked my shirtsleeve up over my shoulder, and revealed the inside of my upper arm. The part that hardly ever shows. Unless you hold up your hand to answer a question in class. I’d learned never to do that.

“What the hell are these?” Albert demanded, brushing his thumb against eight separate raised circles marring the smooth pale skin that comes naturally to us redheads. “Are they scars?”

“Geez, Dad, lemme think. Was I born with these marks? I mean, I know you were gone a lot, but surely you would’ve noticed this kind of disfigurement on an infant.”

He clamped his jaw shut and yanked me toward him. “Who did this to you? Tell me right now. And be honest, or else—”

“Or else what?”

“I might kill the wrong man.” Watching the color rush to fill his face once again, I thought, He didn’t know. All these years I thought he had to. How could he not? But it was like he’d leased his brain to the military and all we got was sloppy seconds. Which is okay for some things. But not so great when Dad’s oblivious to festering sores on your arm. And in your family.

“It wasn’t a man,” I said. “It was your wife. With a cigarette. Anytime one of us caused her to lose it.”

Albert’s eyes went back to my arm and he began to shake his head. Of course he wouldn’t believe me. She’d said he wouldn’t. I was ready for a big, fat denial. But all he said was “It sounds to me like you took the punishment for everybody.”

I nodded. “Evie only made her that mad once, and though I was only nine at the time, I knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it. A couple of the others are Dave’s, but the rest are mine.” I watched him worry at those marks, as if he could somehow erase them if he brushed his fingers across them enough times. When he still didn’t respond I said, “I guess I could’ve done what Dave and Evie did. Learn to read her moods. Figure out when to keep my mouth shut.”

Still not meeting my eyes he asked, “What did you do?”

I shrugged. “By the time I was twelve I’d grown taller and tougher than her. One day she came after me with that goddamned cigarette and I beat the crap out of her.”

I tried to pull my arm from his hand, to wrap it around my stomach as it lurched at that awful memory. The knowledge that I’d done what a daughter never should. Forced into it by a mother who’d broken her trust. The worst part—Evie crying. Screaming really. Begging me not to kill her mommy. It was the first time in my life that I’d understood what I was capable of.

He put his arms around mÃs aimee, patient through my initial resistance. Crushing me to his chest when I finally allowed the embrace. I didn’t cry. Those days had passed. But something at the icy core of me flared. Suddenly painfully warm. Even more so when I leaned back to see the single tear running down the old man’s face. The only one I’d ever seen crack the hard rock of those green eyes. “Jazzy,” he began.

I shook my head. “It’s over now.”

“Is it?”

The question caught me off guard. Do you ever get past something like that, when the scars slap you across the face every morning in the shower? I realized I couldn’t answer him truthfully. “About the vampire guy,” I said.

Albert took a deep breath. Tightened his hands on my shoulders. Let them drop. “I wouldn’t recommend him. They’re only after one thing, you know.”

“Dad!”

“That’s not what I meant! Well, maybe a little. But I was really talking about the blood. Don’t let him fool you. Just because he’s had a few lifetimes to school himself in our ways doesn’t mean he’s like us. He’s a predator. A parasite. You strip away his act and he’s no better than an undead tick.” He nodded wisely. “No. You stick with that Vayl. He’ll take care of you.”

Ha! If you only knew! “Don’t you think he’s a little old for me?” He’d been turned at thirty-eight. And while no gray hairs sprinkled the coal blackness of his hair, he’d never pass for a twenty-something.

Albert shook his head. “I don’t see you getting comfortable with a young buck now. Seems to me you need somebody who’s survived the same kind of crap as you. Looking at Vayl, you can tell. He’s been through it.”

I thought of the scars I’d seen once, crisscrossing his shoulders and back. Even in his relative ignorance, my dad could still make a valid point. I got up. “It’s definitely time to leave when you start making sense.” I whistled to Jack. When his ears perked I said, “Come on, boy. We’re outta here ’cause Dad’s freaking about the Amityville room again.”

When I grinned at Albert he growled, “It’s not funny! That thing’s gonna kill me, you know! And when I’m dead—”

“You’re never going to die because the gatekeepers of heaven and hell will never stop arguing about which one wants to keep you out the worst!”

He snorted and slapped me on the leg. “You’re all right, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do.” I threw my weapons bag across my back and grabbed my trunk.

He looked at me sideways. “Good. I’m glad she didn’t take that away from you.” I nodded and had turned to leave when his next words stopped me flat. “And I’m sorry.”

I put my hand on the wall to steady myself. Not even daring to look over my shoulder, I whispered, “For what?”

“I’m your father. It’s my job to protect you. And I failed.”

I thought about what he said until Jack came to stand beside me, rubbing his cheek against my thigh like he thought he was a tomcat andÃas ="4 needed to mark me. Finally I said, “Apology accepted.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

I didn’t sleep right away. I lay on my stomach under the covers, still fully dressed because I’d have to go back to work in another few hours. And because if I took one article of clothing off, they’d all go. Just lying in Vayl’s bed did that to me. I was beginning to think when we finally did pull off an all-nighter, we might need to arrange a somewhat remote location for the deed. I had a hunch it was going to get noisy.

I dangled my left hand over the edge of the bed, leaving it tangled in the fur of Jack’s neck as he lay on the floor beside me. “I’m a sad case, Jack,” I whispered. “And the worst part is, I don’t even mind anymore.”

As soon as I closed my eyes I began dreaming.

I recognized the zooming delight in my heart even before I glanced to my side to smile at my hiking partner. Matt grinned back, his teeth practically glowing against the deep tan of his face. I stopped right there on the trail, threw my arms around him, and gave him a long, luscious kiss.

“What was that for?” he asked as he raised his head.

“Bringing me here. Look at this!” I demanded, my gesture encompassing the whole of the Highlands. We stood on a flat brown trail sided by acres of heather, dotted by small rocks and large boulders. In the background the steep granite slopes of Ben Nevis beckoned. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

“Yah. That would be you, lass.” I spun, jerking my arm out of his grasp. Matt had been replaced. By Brude.

“What are you doing here?” Did my voice have to go all squeaky-breathy like that? Um, yeah, dumbass. That’s what happens when you’re freaked.

Hard not to be with those dark, fathomless eyes boring into you. That massive picture-puzzle chest reminding you a mystery remained unsolved and now you’d be lucky if you woke again to pursue its unanswered questions.

“I came to fetch you,” he said in that rich, rolling accent. “The flavor of power sweetens like honey with a good woman beside you to share the spoils.” He emphasized his point by banging his staff into the ground.

I shrugged. “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”

“No. By me.”

He tried to pull me into his arms, but I evaded his hands, backing slowly down the path like I’d just encountered a grizzly bear. “Who are you?”

“I told you before, lass. I am King Brude. These are my lands and have been for nigh onto four thousand years. But now they will be more. I have been Satan’s Enforcer long enough. It is my time to rise. My armies are ready. The dungeon is complete. You saw how strongly it is made.”

He waited long enough that I realized I was supposed to respond. “Oh, yeah. Lovely workmanship. The blocks were, uh, very thick. But it doesn’t seem quite practical. I mean you ghosts could just—”

“I am no ghost!” he cried, as offended as if I’d questioned his manhood. “Do I not have dominion over them, and e’en all the unkind spirits who flock to my domain?”

“First of all, I don’t know what e’en means. Also, I’m waking up now.”

“Wait! You must stay with me!” His raised fist added a threat to the demand. But the voice I paused for was Raoul’s.

“Jasmine?” I turned, relieved to find my Spirit Guide striding up the hill behind me. “I’ve been looking for you. Why have you been so elusive?”

I pointed a finger at Brude, glad to see it wasn’t shaking. Much. “The Neanderthal wants to drag me off by the hair.” In a lower voice I asked, “People don’t do that here, do they? Because I gotta tell you, I have sensitive roots.”

Raoul shook his head, smiling past the concern in his eyes. “I’ve never heard of it. But since you’re not yet trained to protect that bundle of curls in the Thin, would you mind stepping behind me for a minute?”

The Thin? You mean . . . I really can’t just make this go away by sitting up in bed? In that case, if I had the time I’d build a fort between me and that maniac. I switched positions with Raoul and looked around for a big stick. Or maybe a rock. Surely anything I found here would work as a weapon. And my Guide deserved at least a show of backup, even if I suspected Brude could take us both with one arm strapped to his side.

Raoul bowed, keeping his eyes raised in case the king fought dirty. “We have no quarrel with you. But urgent business requires us to move on,” he said.

“I cannot allow that,” Brude replied. He pointed to me. “My claim is on her. She must stay and rule at my side.”

“You are such a throwback,” I informed him. “Your claim. Do I look like a gold mine to you?”

Raoul snapped a shut-up look over his shoulder. “Let me handle this, please.”

I wanted to say something really mature like, “He started it.” But maybe this wasn’t the time.

Raoul said, “She’s Eldhayr. Do you really want that kind of fight? I could bring the whole Eminent screaming down on your head, and when we were done with you not even a spark would remain to prove you had ever existed.”

“You could,” said Brude, grinning craftily, “if they were at your shoulder. But they must be scattered to the seven winds at the moment. No, I will take her now, while the time is ripe.” He looked at me as he savored that last word, his eyes full of the plans he’d made for us.

“You can’t make me stay,” I told him. I put my hand on Raoul’s shoulder. “Can he?”

“He’s a Domytr. That gives him the ability to try.”

I paged through my mental dictionary. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“You wouldn’t have. They’re rare. Hand-picked by Lucifer. And exclusive to this side.”

The Domytr and the Eldhayr began to circle one another. I shadowed Raoul, still searching for some form of naturally occurring weapon. I saw rocks, but they were all set into the earth so deep, no way would I be able to extricate one before the fight had ended. I clenched my fists, and when the movement didn’t even crack my knuckles, I wondered if the Thin had even left me enough strength to heft one.

Brude charged, yelling a battle cry that liquefied all the food in my bowels. Shit! We should run!

Ah, the voice of reason. Why is it we never listen to her when the battle is on? It would spare us such a lot of pain. Or in Raoul’s case, a blow to the nose that seemed to break it, and a punch that glanced off his eye, but only because his head was already rocking backward.

Holy crap, that guy can swing a staff! Only it’s not just the wood talking. I think his tattoos are getting darker when he attacks. Almost like they’re being reinforced. And look at that. They’re coalescing! Forming some sort of second skin. Except I have a feeling it’s a lot more durable than most armor.

Raoul pulled his sword. A rune-covered steel that shone like sun on the water, he wielded it with the ease of a master. A lunge. A slash across Brude’s upper chest that bled so freely it began to look like he’d slipped on a red T-shirt for the occasion. But as I watched, the tattooed armor folded over the cut and the bleeding stopped.

“Your metal cannot harm me here,” Brude said triumphantly.

Oh, that’s reassuring.

Raoul snapped, “Play with someone else’s head, Brude. Mine is bent on your destruction.” He jumped forward again, smashing his blade against Brude’s staff. Something should have broken. Maybe it was Raoul’s pride. He backed away.

“Are you done playing already? Good enough.” Brude’s eyes jumped to mine. “I believe it would be better to finish this quickly, after all. It has been so long.” He nodded in decision and slowly lifted the staff, walking around Raoul as he also turned. Waiting for him to make a mistake. He leaped forward, moving so quickly I barely caught the shift in his shoulders that signaled his intentions.

I bounced away from Raoul, allowing him the room he needed to adjust. He veered sideways, cracking his sword against Brude’s staff as it passed within a millimeter of his head.

Raoul’s heel to the king’s ribs should’ve scored the best shot he’d made so far. Brude grunted, but only with effort. The armor had slid forward to intercept Raoul’s blow. I’d fought supernaturally shielded opponents before, so I knew Raoul felt like he’d just connected with the radiator of a Mack truck.

He reversed the sword in his hand, holding it so the blade emerged from the back of his fist like you might hold a dagger in a knife fight. Rushing toward Brude, he battered the king with multiple kicks to the torso and a blow to the temple with the hilt of the sword.

Brude didn’t bother to block the blows. The armor did all that so well his head barely jerked, though Raoul had hit him hard enough to snap his neck. He responded with a combination of slashing attacks that forced Raoul to pull back or lose some choice parts.

Oh goody. How about I just stand here like a helpless Victorian Miss whilst the menfolk battle for my honor? Or I could—I looked around. Nope. No heroic rescue wrote itself on my brain as I scanned the scene. Well, this sucks. I moved completely off the path, avoiding the sweating, heaving fighters on my way to a light-gray boulder. I leaned against it, brushing my hands against the rough crags of the stone. Down by my hips I discovered a stash of small rocks in a recess where either the wind or a bored hand had chipped them off and left them for later. I picked one up. Tossed it up and down in my hand.

And lofted it at Brude.

It hit him. Of course it didn’t hurt. His inked-on shell came to his rescue. But I threw another anyway. It became the only way I could find to amuse myself between rounds.

Round One: Raoul busting his ass to no avail.

Medium-sized piece o’ granite to the small of the king’s back. Bang—two points!

Round Two: Brude nearly taking off Raoul’s head.

Two small pebbles to the Domytr’s left thigh. Hey, they hit at the same time. I am the Queen of Rock Pelting!

Round Three: Raoul throwing such an intricate combination of moves I didn’t recognize what discipline he’d pulled them from, which meant he was now fighting out of the School of Desperation.

Flat stone, perfect for skipping, bounced right off the ear. It’s no fun when he doesn’t even flinch. How are we ever going to get past that goddamned armor?

Round Four: I zinged another one. At the same time Raoul landed a punch that should’ve shattered Brude’s jaw. But the crack I heard was his hand breaking. To give him credit he didn’t cry out. Didn’t even delay his next move. Just switched back to his sword, which clanged against Brude’s staff at the same time that he threw a front kick into the king’s diaphragm.

“Raoul, this is pointless,” I said. “Back off, dude. Maybe I can talk some sense into this guy.”

Raoul’s response was a kick that caught Brude in the ribs. Unfortunately he didn’t pull his leg back fast enough. Brude grasped his calf with both hands and twisted. I heard Raoul’s knee pop just before he screamed.

Brude tossed Raoul aside like a bag of laundry, sending him flying at least ten feet into the heather. Then he came for me.

Because he expected it, I scurried out of his reach. Ran to Raoul’s side. Nope. Forget pulling him to his feet, much less making for less-populated spots. “Are we done for?” I asked.

Raoul shook his head. Not an answer. Just an attempt to clear the woozies. “He’s pulling strength from somewhere beyond himself. Look at him.”

I had been, but only casually. I opened my third eye as wide as I could manage. Brude’s lips curled upward as he strode toward me, his arms swinging confidently at his sides. He moved like a true warrior, comfortable in his skin, capable of instant lethality from any position. But his eyesËn. ar added a disturbing dimension. They said he’d be happy to stab, hack, or impale given any lame excuse and the weaponry to pull it off. Beautiful, whispered the part of my brain that recognized how closely that trait must link him to evil here, where the prettier you were, the higher up the nasty ladder you got to climb.

As I watched his tattoos detach from one another, become just another set of funky body squiggles, I caught another movement. Like a longer length of hair flowing off his shoulders, down his back. A nearly invisible cape that fluttered behind him as he walked. It wasn’t like one you’d see on, say, Superman. Where a couple of guys on the ground might look up and say, “Yo! Mr. Hero! Your sheet’s stuck between your legs!” right before he plummeted to the earth and put a big hole in some poor woman’s kitchen island. This item seemed muscular. Almost like a pterodactyl wing, it wrapped around him as he approached us. A shield, or maybe a supernatural steroid pump, it was definitely the item that gave him that extra edge. And I had no idea how to cut it from him.

I leaned into Raoul’s ear, whispered the secret to Brude’s advantage just as he reached me. He grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. “You will be mine.”

“I don’t see how I can do that,” I told him, working hard to force calm into my voice. Could I really get stuck here? No. Don’t even allow the possibility. You’re not staying. Because if you do, you’ll probably die. Plus Vayl would be so pissed. I thought of him standing guard over that damned Scidairan when I needed him here. Now!

“You will do as I say,” Brude said, his hand tightening painfully on my skin. And that’s when I knew what I had to do.

“You like getting your way, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Well, you know what?” I stepped up to him, put my free arm around his waist, and shoved my body against his. “So do I.” I nuzzled my mouth against his neck. As he moaned I felt the cape slide out from between us. And wrap around me. I was in. With one chance to get this right.

I pictured Vayl. Pretended it was his body pressing against mine. His skin under my canines. And bit. So hard that my teeth nearly met each other inside the bloody tissue of his carotid. Though I tried not to swallow, I felt Brude’s blood spurt down my throat.

It’s okay, this isn’t real, I told myself.

It’s not a dream, insisted the librarian in my head, who was already shelving this experience into the vast, unending Horror area of my biography section.

But the blood . . . it’s not like I’m really stomaching the stuff that powers him.

Lies. All little fibs to keep my mind off the disaster I was making of his throat. The gurgling screams in my ear. The pounding on my back as he tried to release himself from the clench I’d taken on him.

He tasted of thick, sweet metal. Behind it the heavier flavor of stolen vigor, coming straight from that ghost-cape enveloping us both. As his blood gushed down the sides of my mouth, I had less and less of a problem resisting his onslaught.

Finally he appealed to Raoul. “Get her off of me!”

“And what?”

“I will allow you to cross my lands freely for the next fortnight.”

That was good enough for me. I released him, spitting until my mouth cleared, backing until my shoulder blades hit Raoul’s chest.

Wait a second. My Spirit Guide couldn’t stand. I whipped around.

“Vayl, how did you get here?”

He motioned to Cirilai. “You needed me. You called. I came.” When his eyes met mine they were blacker than I’d ever seen them. Angry fountains of red rose and fell from his pupils as he stared at Brude’s throat. His words cut into me like a garrote as he said, “Jasmine, what have you done?”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The accusation in Vayl’s tone brought the blood rushing beneath my cheeks. Which was when I realized I probably had quite a bit on top of my skin as well. I pulled out the neck of my shirt and wiped my face with it. Wondered if, when I woke up, I’d still have this taste in my mouth, still want to brush my teeth as badly as I did at this moment.

Neither Vayl nor I felt like looking at each other, so we spent some time watching Brude make a poultice out of dirt, spit, and his own blood. Once he’d packed the entire mess onto his neck, he pointed at me. Kind of satisfying to see that finger trembling.

“Woman, you are a viper,” he said.

I shrugged. “Most of my enemies end up thinking something similar.”

He shook his head, causing his shining black braids to brush back and forth across his sweating shoulders. “You think us adversaries, but in fact we fall on the same side and always will. So the prophets predicted: And Brude shall take unto himself a queen of unsurpassed skill, strength, and beauty, whose astonishing wit will find itself outmatched by the sharpness of her tongue. Mark my words, we will rule this land together, you and I. And all of Lucifer’s demons will tremble at our dominion.”

“Like hell!”

His smile made me shiver. “Now you begin to understand.” He kept his distance, but somehow the intensity in his eyes made me feel as if he’d sidled right up to me. Like his hands had found their way under my clothes, and where they touched my skin burned. “When you need me, call my name and I will come to you. Say it now, my queen. ‘I need you, Brude.’ Let me hear it once before I leave.”

Beside me, Vayl made a noise I’d never heard before. But if I’d caught that sound in the jungle I’d have scampered up the nearest tree. Because I was afraid even touching him would set him off, I just sent calm thoughts in his direction as I gave Brude my coldest stare. “Go away before I shred you like last year’s receipts,” I said.

“I shall. But only for a time. You will beg for my return. And thank me as well.”

“What makes you think I’d ever thank you?”

“Your enemy is mine just as you are mine. I never supposed you would hear my calls at Clava Cairns. But your pet has much sharper ears. And an obedient heart.”

“You . . . you showed Jack where to dig for that harness? Why? What does my enemy want to do with it? Which enemy are we even talking about?”

With a nod of his head and a smile that let me know he loved the fact he’d filled me with questions, he left. Fading to nothing just like his ghostly subjects.

“Well, shit!”

“So how did he taste?” asked Vayl. “I am guessing earthy with a hint of ass.”

I didn’t realize my fists were clenched until I raised one to his face. I unwound a finger, saving the middle one for later, and shook my pointer under his nose. “Where do you get off with the snotty attitude? I was saving my life just now! And working!”

“You were practically rutting with that oaf!”

I held out my arms. Twirled around. “See this? Get a good look, will ya? Fully clothed, yeah? How the hell—”

He widened his eyes in that you-are-the-ultimate-idiot expression of his that made me want to grab a pair of tweezers and start plucking out all his nose hairs. “How could you possibly be more intimate than to take another man’s blood? That should have been me!”

What the f— . . . Ohhhh. “Vayl, I was not trying to pleasure the freak. I was trying to kill him. Ask Raoul.” I gestured to my Spirit Guide, who was looking properly pathetic over by the edge of the path. Unfortunately he didn’t feel making peace between us was his job. Totally ignoring Vayl’s questioning expression, he said, “Jasmine, we have to go. Colonel John has located the source of your father’s problem. We were supposed to meet him at my penthouse—”

“Goddammit, Raoul, this is important to me!” He winced at my obscenity and sighed as he faced Vayl.

“Obviously I couldn’t beat Brude, though I wasted a great deal of effort trying. Jasmine found a way to breach his defenses and used the only weapon that would work for her in this place at this time.”

Vayl nodded stiffly, but when he turned back to me I could tell he wasn’t satisfied. What the hell? He had all the facts. What else could he need?

Raoul struggled to rise, failed, gave me a frustrated look. “I’m coming,” I said, striding past Vayl, avoiding contact I would’ve sought half an hour before. As I helped Raoul to his feet I asked, “How come you can’t just zap your parts back to fine?”

“For the same reason Brude needs to spend the next hour with an excellent needlewoman. We can be injured here. We can even ‘die,’ though the consequences are somewhat more frightening than those we faced as mortals, considering the power of the beings we fight in these planes.”

“Oh.” Without a word, Vayl arrived at Raoul’s other side and together we walked him down the hill, back the way we’d come. Somehow the greens and puÓe gizerples of the meadow I’d begun this dream-hike through didn’t lift my spirits like it had to start with. In fact, if I could get a guarantee that I’d never see this landscape again, I’d be willing to make payments to any of a number of Raoul’s favorite charities. For life.

After a couple of minutes I said, “Um. Aren’t we kind of in my dream?”

“Technically,” said Raoul. “But only in that your dream allowed Brude to pull us into the Thin, where his realm seems to be flourishing like mold on bread.”

His frown didn’t stop me from asking, “So what’re we doing now?” Because I was beginning to seriously worry about my Spirit Guide, who was sweating like a college wrestler in mid workout. The pain must be excruciating.

“We’re looking for a door.”

“You mean like the one I used to visit your place last time?”

He nodded, biting his lip as his toe accidentally hit the path. “They exist in every plane. Remember I told you there was one in Castle Hoppringhill?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the one I’m looking for.”

“But it’s miles from Tearlach!”

“It’s miles from your body. But your mind always keeps one close. Ah, yes, there it is.” He pointed across the meadow to a flaming rectangle framing a black portal whose center could lead us any number of places depending on the words we chanted before we walked through it.

“Explain that,” I demanded. “Why’s the door always close in my mind?”

“I don’t know. It’s something unique to you. I’ve never known anyone else who’s been able to do it.”

Oh great. One more weird spot on the mustard-and-blood-stained T-shirt that was my life.

Raoul murmured the appropriate wordage and the door cleared, automatically widening to admit the three of us at the same time. When we emerged, what hit me was the thought of how starkly my two bosses’ workplaces contrasted. Raoul worked out of his home, a penthouse currently overlooking the sparkling skyline of Caracas. Pete’s office looked like it had come straight out of a library basement.

Colonel John waited for us by a bank of large windows, his hands clasped behind his back as he observed the city below him. He took one look at Raoul and his mustache seemed to drop an extra inch. “Over there,” he ordered.

We lowered Raoul onto the soft white couch Colonel John had directed us to.

Clearing a place on a glass coffee table that Raoul had added to his decor since the last time I’d visited, Colonel John sat opposite him with his knee between Raoul’s booted legs. We watched him pull a long, well-maintained knife out of the sheath at his left side and split Raoul’s pants from thigh to hem. My Spirit Guide’s knee had swollen to three times its regular size. And the noise he made when Colonel John laid his hands on it made me turn away.

I strode to the sleek black bar, Óeekel where I poured myself something that smelled a lot like whiskey from a glass decanter and stubbornly ignored my reflection in the mirrored wall. “Do you want something?” I asked Vayl as he came up to the other side and sank onto one of the black cushioned bar stools.

When he didn’t answer I met his eyes. Same color as before, and not the one I was hoping to see. “Vayl—”

“Why could you not wait?”

“What?”

“Now his blood is in you when mine should have been first.”

I clutched my glass so hard I was surprised it didn’t shatter in my hands. I wanted to yell at him that I’d had no choice. I considered throwing my booze in his face and screaming that drinking blood was grosser than sucking toes, neither of which could he expect me to do at any time during our relationship. Then I got this image of my big toe, painted bright red, suddenly developing a face and a hot Southern temper to match, screaming, “What the hell is wrong with mah bad self?” And I started to giggle.

His brows lowered so fast they would’ve crossed if it had been anatomically possible. “Oh, stop,” I said. “I’m not laughing at you. I never do. You should consider that. It’s not necessarily a good thing.” As his jaw began to tighten I went on. “If you’ll recall, you were first. In Miami. Your fangs? My neck? You seemed to think it was a big yummy moment.”

“That is . . . different.”

“Bullshit. And I haven’t forgotten the night you explained that you make it a point to sample your targets’ A-positive whenever possible, just to make sure they taste as guilty as the CIA led you to believe they were to start with. So, using your method of judgment, I should also be pissed that you’re the equivalent of a blood whore.”

“A what?” His voice went so deep it practically tolled. I wasn’t sure when he’d slid off the stool and come around to my side. Usually I noticed things like that. But his eyes had captivated me so completely I’d lost all awareness of my surroundings.

“It’s all in how you look at things, isn’t it?”

“You are mad.”

Once I’d have kicked him right in the teeth. Or done a quick hunt for the looney van. Now I laughed. “You’re jealous.”

“I am not.”

“Now you sound like Cole.”

“Are you actively trying to snap my control now, or is this just part of your overall charm?”

I sidled up to him. Whispered, “When I bite you, it’ll be because I want to make your toes curl and your hair stand on end. And you won’t need stitches afterward. You’ll need crutches.”

Finally. The black bled out of his eyes, replaced by that emerald green I’d grown to adore. I heard a sharp crack, looked down and realized the edge of the bar had buckled under the pressure of his grip.

“Aw, Vayl, just when Raoul was getting used to you.”

“It is your fault. Pushing me to within a hairsbreadth of explosion and then spinning me so quickly into desire it is all I can do to keep myself from taking you right here.”

I almost said, Taking me where? Like a ditz. Because the second I kicked in my eighteenth-century translator my mind went, Oh. Ahhhh! Blush. Giggle. Cool!

Vayl said, “I have never seen that expression on your face before. What does it mean, I wonder?”

“Um, probably something along the lines of, I can’t wait to get you alone.”

Crack. An entire triangle of the bar’s edge came loose in Vayl’s hand. He looked down at it like it had just deeply disappointed him. He shook his head and murmured, “Damn.” I snorted. He glared at me. “You are not helping.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“Aaaah!” Raoul’s cry of pain made my shoulder blades ache. And how did Vayl choose to distract him?

“Raoul, I just broke your bar.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It turned out that Raoul was so relieved for Colonel John to have put his knee back right that he didn’t mind much about the bar. “It came with the room,” he told us as we sat on the couch that met his at a forty-five-degree angle, staring at the bit Vayl had torn off as it balanced in the middle of the coffee table. “I’ve been thinking of replacing it.”

“With what?” I asked.

He laid his head back. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll lose all respect for me, and then how will I ever get you to believe anything I have to say?”

Before I could even begin to think of begging, Colonel John said, “Come now, Raoul. This hedging is paramount to torture. You must let us in on your secret now.”

Raoul raised his head. “I want a train set.” He waited. When we didn’t laugh he allowed a hint of excitement to enter his eyes as he said, “I could build one all along that wall. Two levels. With a working yard. And at least five engines running at once. I had one when I was”—he glanced at me—“well, you know.” Boy, did I. I wondered, had Colonel John brought him back from the dead long ago, to fight as an earthly Eldhayr like I was now? And then, how had he finally ended up here? A blast from some suicide bomber he just couldn’t come back from?

“Do it,” said Colonel John so decisively it sounded like an order.

“Really?” Raoul eyed the bar like it might attack him if he tried to dismantle it. “I don’t know. It seems kind of—”

“You do understand that is what makes us different from them.” As Colonel John waited for Raoul’s full attention he fished a pipe out of his pocket and began to fill it from a roll of tobacco he pulled from his boot.

“What do you mean?” Raoul finally asked.

“The ability to play. Nothing we fight, be it demon, kloricht, slyein, or faorzig ever indulges in lighthearted amusement. Every single creature that calls itself our enemy has lost its power to laugh. To joke. To have fun. Which is why we must hold to it as if it were the most treasured part of our souls.” He looked at each of us, one by one. “Perhaps it is.” He lit the tobacco he’d packed with a match struck on the side of a battered red box.

Raoul jumped up, standing on one leg like a flamingo who thinks the water’s a tad too cold for both feet today. As he hopped toward the hall he said, “I have to get some paper. Where’s that pencil? It was just here! If I design it in a U-shape I should be able to—no, that won’t work. Or will it?”

“Raoul.”

He stopped, teetered so precariously I half rose from my seat before he finally caught hold of one of the white chairs that surrounded his dining room table. He turned around. “Yes, Colonel?”

“Are you forgetting something?” Colonel John squinted over the cloud of smoke he’d puffed up, which smelled sharp and yet sweet, an aching reminder of Gramps Lew.

“Oh.” Raoul pogoed back to us, only a shade of guilt marring the anticipation on his face. He plopped down on the couch between me and Vayl. “Colonel John couldn’t locate Samos’s contract, but he has found your father’s attacker.”

I sat forward on the couch, watching the colonel enjoy his smoke. One bit of me found it amusing to note that even here, so far removed from his time, the man had found it impossible to lose his old habits. But the rest felt like a tabby clawing her way up a curtain, yowling because the dude holding the catnip wouldn’t freaking share!

Finally the ancient veteran squinted at me through the haze he’d created and said, “I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, young Jasmine, but I’m afraid your mother has escaped from hell. She seems to be the one who hit your father with the van. And, ah, the incident with the pineapple cans?”

When I gave him a blank look, he nodded wisely. “I supposed your father had kept you in the dark on that one. No sense in worrying the children unnecessarily. Well, it seems she was trying to gain his attention, and in her frustration at being unable to do so, she knocked over a large wooden pineapple that had been erected by Albert’s favorite grocer. If Shelby had not quickly pulled him out of the way, a sea of Del Monte chunks in their own syrup might have crushed the life out of him.”

When the colonel first gave me Mom’s news I’d shoved my hands in my hair, prepared to yank out handfuls as she’d pushed me to do so many times in my adolescence. I froze, fully aware I was giving myself mini bunny ears, and began to laugh.

Colonel John traded puzzled looks with Raoul. “I fail to see the humor here. The Gatekeeper has unleashed the dogs. And if they catch her before she returns voluntarily, I can foresee no end to her tortures.”

I felt the laughter burn to cinders in my throat. Nearly choking on the ashes I said, “According to my count, she’s done exactly four nice things for me in the past twenty-five years. You Ûiveerswant to tell me why I should give a shit?”

When all three men winced at my four-letter-word choice I jerked myself off the couch and stomped to the window. What the hell? Is this your idea of a joke? You put me in the most stressful situations you can imagine, where you know I’m going to need to swear, and then you surround me with old-world prudes? Matt never cared what I said. Matt liked me just the way I was. I was talking to the Big Kahuna, but I addressed the broad expanse of skyscrapers and twinkling lights hiding masses of pissed-off poor people who thought the only way to make life better was to give all the power they didn’t realize they had to the biggest dickhead they could find.

Vayl’s hands, warm on my shoulders, let me know he cared despite my potty mouth. I looked up, caught my breath as his amber eyes met mine. Maybe even a little bit because of it? The heart-crushing longing I’d felt for my dead guy eased as I stared up at my undead one.

“Do you suppose we should do something about your mother before she kills your father?” he asked.

“Fine. Let’s call Dave. He likes them both better than I do. He can be the mediator.” Colonel John cleared his throat. The apologetic look in his eyes led me to ask, “There’s more?”

“I am afraid so,” he said. “I was able to intercept a third message from her loeden. She wants to meet both your father and you at Clava Cairns. It seems to be a repeat of a message your father already received and did not acknowledge. It is here, awaiting your reply.” He nodded toward the hallway that led to the biggest part of Raoul’s penthouse. A series of locked doors hiding treasures I’d only begun to uncover the last time I’d visited.

I turned around so I could search Vayl’s expressions better as we talked. “What do you think she’s after?”

He shrugged. “You know her better than I.” He lifted the curl that rimmed the right side of my face. The one that had turned white after she’d touched me when we’d met in hell. “Has she changed?”

I wanted to think so. And the fury that rose at that little-girl yearning filled my lungs like glue. I slammed my hand against my chest, reminding myself how to breathe. “Nobody who’s done what she did changes,” I said.

“What did she do to you, my Jasmine?” His whisper was so soft it could almost have been the doors of my own memory creaking shut, trying to block access.

I glanced past the comforting barrier of his shoulder to the men sitting beyond us. They hadn’t heard. In fact, realizing we needed privacy, Colonel John had restarted Raoul’s toy train conversation and my Spirit Guide was yapping deliriously about track layouts and the proper turn radius for HO scale.

I moved to the side, so their view of me would be completely blocked by Vayl’s broad back. For the second time tonight I shed my jacket and revealed scars I’d kept hidden up to this point. Boy, was I getting all therapied up lately, or what? After one look at my sverhamin’s face I decided “or what” should probably apply next time. Because if my dad had been furious, Vayl had snapped.

Blood filled his eyes until the only relief from the frightening redness was the hard core of blaÛardheick at their centers. His lips pulled back, revealing his fangs, like a lion’s will when he’s warning another male off his territory. And his powers spiked, an Arctic gale to my Sensitivity, making me ram into the window so hard I could feel the wood of its frame biting through my shirt.

“Vayl?” I whispered.

“What is happening?” demanded Colonel John. He and Raoul had risen off the couch. Despite the fact that one supported the other, they still managed to make a threatening duo.

“Back away from her, Vayl!” Raoul shouted. “You are a guest here. Only allowed because I have pronounced it neutral territory for the duration of your stay. If I invoke the holy protections once again you will burn as surely as if you had entered a cathedral!”

I put my hand on Vayl’s chest, willing him to be calm. “I know you’re pissed. So am I. Every day. But this isn’t helping; you see that, don’t you? Come on, if you’re not going to be the levelheaded one, we’re pretty much screwed.”

“I want to be there when you confront her,” he growled.

“Okay, fine. No problem.” Never mind that I’d have agreed to slip into a frilly apron and bake a carrot cake if that would take the vengeance out of his expression. I turned to the other guys and smiled brightly as Vayl’s powers began to ebb. “It’s all good,” I assured them. “I just opened my big mouth one too many times. You know me, F this, F that. He’s so sick of me swearing sometimes he could happily throw me off the roof. Not that he’d ever do that,” I hastened to add, realizing my babbling was about to get us into worse trouble. Best to finish our business and get out.

I went on. “Tell my mother I’ll talk to Dad and, if he’s okay with a meet, I’ll get back to Raoul with the arrangements. But we won’t have time to do anything until after our mission’s accomplished. Which means she needs play it cool until then. Okay?”

Still looking somewhat suspicious, Colonel John nodded. Which gave Raoul little choice but to agree.

I let my smile widen. Now my entire face hurt. How did beauty queens do it? “Thanks so much for your help. Can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Big weight off my mind.” I took Vayl’s hand, clenched it hard to make sure he followed me as I said, “Don’t worry about seeing us out. We know the way. Sorry about the bar again, but it sounds like you’ve got a great plan in place for the train dealie. Keep me posted on that, will ya?”

And, having reestablished an expression of avid interest on Raoul’s face, at least, I led Vayl out the door and back to the real world.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I opened my eyes and took a deep, whopping breath. The kind you want after you’ve been stuck inside a gas station bathroom way too long. “We’re back.”

Vayl stirred. Which was when I realized how Cirilai had found him so easily. He’d come into his room, into his bed, and wrapped himself around me so tightly I felt like I’d crawled into a kid’s sleeping bag. “Um, Vayl?”

“Mmm.”

“We should get up.”

“Why?”

I strained my head to see past his curls to the little round alarm clock on the pretty railed table beside the bed. “I’m assuming you had Cole take your place when you came in here.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I have to go relieve him. And you’re going to be dead to the world [literally!] in less than half an hour.”

He lifted his chin from where it rested on my shoulder. His warm breath tickled at my cheek as he said, “Then surely another twenty or thirty minutes will not hurt him.”

“You’re damn straight it will!” Cole cut in, which was when I realized Vayl, at least, hadn’t taken off his transmitter. “Get your ass up here, Jaz.” Ooh, our third sounded pretty irritable.

“Tell him I’m coming,” I said.

“I heard,” said Cole. “What are you, sitting on Vayl’s lap or something? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Just get up here. Strange things are happening and I’m tired of trying to figure out if they’re designed to pull me off Floraidh watch or if I really should investigate.”

I shoved at Vayl’s chest. It worked about as well as poking an elephant with a daisy. “We’ll be right there,” I said anyway.

Vayl began to nuzzle that sensitive area right behind my earlobe. Which made my eyes roll right up in their sockets. Tough not to make any noise as his hand slipped under my shirt. I wanted it to continue . . . well, was forever too long? But Cole needed us. The mission loomed. Not to mention my crappy mother. And did I really want to lock in the memories of our first time with a Scidairan’s spell-drenched B and B?

Not to mention my nap breath. Not as bad as morning breath, but still skanky enough to warrant a brushing. Because underneath it the aftertaste of Brude’s blood had lingered. Impossible, my mind whispered. Your body was here the whole time.

Tell that to my taste buds.

Unbelievable the effort it took to peel my hands off Vayl’s ass. Apparently they’d discovered it fit them better than a pair of driving gloves and they didn’t appreciate the order to move. Because they kept trying to pull the old cup-and-squeeze, I shoved them under my thighs where they proceeded to pinch me for depriving them of such pleasure after a long, long absence. “I have to pee,” I said.

The nibbling at my ear stopped. Frustrated scream from my bimbo libido, who’d been chained up so long she resembled a skeleton hanging from Brude’s dungeon wall. Which raised a whole slew of new questions I wasn’t yet awake enough to deal with. I struggled to sit up. Vayl pulled back slightly. “You do?”

I reached up to kiss him, feather-light, on the chin, whispered, “Does this feel like the right time to you? The right place?”

“Yes.”

I laughed. His chuckle sounded less strangled every time he let it roll. And when heãll.ont let me up, his smile even looked less murderous than usual. “Shall I wait for you, then?”

“Up to you. I won’t be long.”

I spent five minutes in the bathroom and came out feeling a lot more like the old Jaz, who would never have dreamed of biting her opponent on the neck. At least I hadn’t suffered any bad effects from it. Yet, whispered a new voice in my mind, one I’d never heard before and didn’t have time now to pinpoint.

At six thirty in the morning Tearlach stopped reflecting the personalities of its owners and guests, and began to show its own individual quirks. A light rain had begun outside, along with a wind that made the house whisper and creak as we walked down the hall toward the stairs. Vayl could see in the dark, and with my contact lenses activated, so could I. The knickknacks and frills that had seemed homey in the light now took on a spook-house freakishness as we passed them.

We crept up the stairs, Vayl moving silently inside his camouflage, me shielded by my Sensitivity and Bergman’s watch, Jack just naturally quiet on his padded feet. We reached the fourth-floor landing before I smelled it.

“Vayl. A witch is working a spell here,” I whispered.

“Yes, you told me. The Haighs—”

“No, a witch. A Wiccan, like Tolly.”

Cole met us a few steps into the hallway, his eyes wide and glittering as he swung them from my face to Vayl’s. “Look at the doors,” he whispered, shining his flashlight on the entrance to Floraidh’s room.

At first it looked like any quaint old door that’s been painted repeatedly. A dull shine reflected the off-white Floraidh had chosen to color her entryway. She’d hung a basket of silk forget-me-nots under the room number.

“You know what, I don’t think the paint on that door was cracked when I opened it earlier this evening,” I said.

“Look at Dormal’s,” he murmured as he swung the light in that direction.

Hers was in even worse shape. Paint had peeled down in strips, as if a clawed hand had scraped it top to bottom. The door creaked, and then the diamond-embedded symbol on its upper-right-hand corner flared, as if it had begun to burn deep within the wood. The jewel itself glittered so brightly I’d have believed the sun was shining straight on it if the window wasn’t shaded.

Cole swung his light to Floraidh’s door. We watched the same action take place there. And then, as suddenly as I might snap my fingers, the scent of Wicca died.

“It’s gone,” I said.

“It is?” Cole trained his light all around the hallway as if to catch the culprit who’d tried, and failed, to breach the Scidairans’ defenses. “Was it Bea?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t scent witchery at Castle Hoppringhill when all those snakes appeared. So either she was trying to mask herself there because she was in public . . .”

Vayl flicked Cole’s light off. “Or Floraidh has ãorae stwo mortal enemies staying under her roof.”

After such an exciting start to the day, you’d have thought the action would swing right on into overdrive.

Nope.

Vayl went back to his room to crawl into his specially made blackout bed-tent.

After sleeping until one in the afternoon, Albert accepted the news about Mom and our plan to deal with her remarkably well. He grabbed a bite to eat and took Jack back to my room to watch a My Family marathon until we decided we needed them.

Cole and I took turns napping, attending GhostCon events with Albert and Jack like we really gave a crap about the feng shui of a haunted foyer, and watching Floraidh. Since our ward spent most of the day in her room concocting weird Scidair spells while Dormal looked after the B and B, we’d had to improvise our stalker spot, turning the walk-in linen closet beside Dormal’s room into a Scidair-hide. I came up with the name. It helped alleviate my minor claustrophobia to imagine I was a National Geographic photographer, surrounded by vast expanses of jungle, just waiting for the elusive kangahipposeal to appear, at which time I’d film that sucker like a paparazzi on speed.

We furnished the Scidair-hide with a laptop and folding chair, from which we eyeballed the empty hallway like we thought the walls were about to sprout ninjas. Sure, it would’ve been a lot more comfortable, not to mention safer, to guard her from one of our rooms. But if Bea tried something during the day, seconds would count. And though I could move a lot faster than I used to, I still wasn’t superhuman enough to race up two flights of stairs in time to save her from an assassin standing right at her door.

The first time Cole relieved me he came with good news. “Rhona’s driving your dad nuts. She keeps knocking on our door, asking him if he’d like to accompany her to her GAPT seminar tomorrow. I think that blow to her head has lodged an obsession for him deep in her cortex.”

“Cool!”

“Plus, while I was fending her off for him—”

“What!”

“He gave me twenty bucks and promised to fart under the covers for the rest of the day.” I shrugged. How could you argue with that? “Anyway, it gave me the chance to talk to her about Iona. She came with great references. Which I plugged into the database along with one of the shots our cameras picked up. She’s clean. Squeakily so.”

Bummer. I spent my break trying to solve the mystery of Bea’s true identity while some GhostCon idiot droned on and on about why people who die violently have such a hard time resting in the ever-after. I wanted to jump out of my chair and yell, “Well, I’d be pissed too!” I settled for relieving Cole early. Since I couldn’t shuffle my chips for the noise they’d make, I practiced walking one across the tops of my fingers. Amazing how much you can improve at something when that’s the only thing you do for two hours straight. Oh yeah, there was that ten minutes when I figured out Dormal’s secret.

Before my first nap I’d sent the pictures of her room to Tolly along with a request to let me know what she could make of them.ãd m%" She’d gotten back to me with the results right around the middle of my last watch. The symbols on Dormal’s and Floraidh’s doorways were charms of protection, ones meant to keep ghostly and magical attacks neutralized. The squigglies on her wall? A massive curse aimed at one Edward Samos. The kind, Tolly said, that a scorned lover chooses, because wound around the curse is the demand for the stolen love to return.

“Meaning what, exactly?” I’d asked Tolly.

“If I had to guess, I’d say Samos broke up her happy home,” Tolly replied. “Do you know of anyone she’s holding out hopes of reuniting with?”

“Actually, yeah, I do.”

Around four Cole came to relieve me. “Anything new?” he asked as I handed him the laptop.

“Not much,” I replied. “Oh. Except I found out that Dormal’s in love with Floraidh, who’s in love with Samos.”

“Well, that could be significant.”

“I don’t know. Samos is dead. Why would Dormal want to kill Floraidh now?”

“Love is, like, the least logical emotion on earth,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “Look at us. On paper we’re perfect for each other, but in real life . . .” He shrugged.

I crouched down in front of him so I could get a better look at his expression. Hurt. Despite all my efforts, and although he’d pretended otherwise, I’d made his heart bleed. What to say now? Where were the words that would heal him without leaving ice between us?

“What are you looking for, Cole?”

“You!”

I shook my head. “Come on. You knew I wanted Vayl almost from the second we met. And you still came after me. What is it that you think I can give you?”

He closed the laptop lid, spread his fingers out across it and studied them, turned his hands over and watched his palms for a while. If he could’ve seen his future there, would he have felt any relief? “I want what my parents have. Real love. A whole lifetime of it. I’ve been looking, God, since I was probably fifteen. Every time I meet a woman I think, She’s amazing. She could be the one. And then, no. I realize she’s somebody else’s one and I let her go. Then I found you. And I still keep thinking, Yeah, this is it.”

I knew, if I had made a single different decision in my life, he might’ve been right. No Matt. No dead Helsingers. No life as an assassin and no Vayl might have all added up to a Jasmine Bemont with lots of Cole Jrs running around her suburban split-level. Because I did love him. And part of me wanted to be that woman for him.

I said, “You know I can’t do that to you. As much as I might want to, I can’t give you that life. You only think I’m the one because you don’t really know me. You’ve never seen the horror I’m capable of.”

“Jaz—”

“If only you’d consider somebody better. Like Viv.”

“She’s a great girl. We may go on a few dates. We may sãdatometay together for a month or two. Someday we’ll probably be good friends. But I can already tell she’s not the one.”

I’d put my hands on his knees to make my point. Now I dropped them. “I’m sorry.”

When Cole’s answer turned out to be a shrug, I shuffled off to his room to try for a last power nap before Vayl rose. I’d been worried about sleeping after my confrontation with Brude, but Raoul and Colonel John had assured me that his promise of safe passage meant I’d be okay for the duration of the mission. Coming back to his territory after his two-week freebie concluded might be a problem, but they were working on a way to protect me from him should I ever need to cross his lands again. And it turned out they were right. Despite the niggling worries about Brude, and Cole, I slept well. No dreams. No interruptions. Until Vayl knocked on my door.

His hair sparkled, still wet from the shower. Wearing a black button-down shirt with pinstripes tucked into faded jeans he looked good enough to eat. I felt like a leftover taco. “Hi.”

“I am up for the evening.” Really, should it be legal for one man’s smile to make your heart skip a beat? Maybe if he’s not a man at all, but a vampire who has finally taught you the meaning of the word “luscious.”

“I need a shower. And some food.” I thought a second. “And lessons.”

“Oh?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep you interested if you continue to catch me when my hair’s standing on end and my breath smells like drooly pillow. But maybe if some svelte supermodel could teach me a few tricks—”

The alarm in his eyes made me reach for Grief. Which was currently hanging in its holster on the headboard of the bed. So all I got for my trouble was a handful of armpit. Lovely. Problem was, I couldn’t even make farting noises to entertain him. All I could do was stand there and look like a freak show reject.

I think he might’ve read some of what I was thinking in my eyes, because his lips curled as he ran his fingertips down my arms. Oooh, shivery good!

“My sweet pretera, do not change for my benefit. I love you just as you are. Evening breath and all.”

“What a nice thing to say. I’m not sure I buy it, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Ah yes, you always did prefer actions to words.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose. “Never fear. I am still working on a most amazing proof for the depth of my feelings for you.”

“Well, you could start by letting me get freshened up.”

“Certainly. Take all the time you need. I am just going to relieve Cole. I understand he and the girls are scheduled to sit in on Rhona’s presentation shortly.”

“Wow. So cool that I get to miss that.”

Unfortunately my shift at GhostCon started right after Cole’s ended, so I did have to endure a debate over what shades do when they’re taking a break from the haunting biz. Some panelists voted for them falling into a ãfalendkind of mystical coma state from which they emerged only when disturbed by our presence. Others insisted they functioned in a society of sorts, one much more savage than ours, where atrocity was the earmark of progress and success. After what I’d seen in Brude’s dungeon, I tended to agree with them.

The only other interesting occurrence that evening happened when I got back to the B and B in time to meet the Haighs on the way to their fancy supper.

“Wow, don’t you guys look ritzy?” I said as I met them on the walk in front of Tearlach. Humphrey wore a shiny black suit, white shirt, and bow tie while Lesley had chosen an ivory dress with matching low-heeled pumps.

“Thank you!” she said, her hand fluttering up to her hair. “I’m so excited. I’ve never been to Adair’s before.”

“Where’s your necklace?” I asked.

She looked at me blankly. “Excuse me?”

“The diamond rose necklace you had on last night. You said you’d brought it just to wear to this dinner.”

She gave me that polite smile people reserve for eccentrics and friendly drunks. “I’m sorry, you must have me confused with someone else. I don’t own any necklaces like that.”

“Of course, my mistake,” I said, stepping aside to let them pass. Helluva spell, Floraidh. Just wiped their minds clean of those jewels, didn’t you? Wonder what else you erased while you were at it?

I told Vayl about the conversation as I took my linen-closet watch, but he still wanted to wait and see. “The mission is our priority,” he said as he handed off the laptop. “We must neutralize Bea.”

“Who’s taking her own sweet time showing,” I muttered as I grabbed the computer and thumped into the chair. “If she doesn’t make a move tonight I’m going to smoke her out.”

I know, impatient words from a girl who should’ve been an ace at waiting by now. But I wasn’t the only one who was sick of Bea’s lack of progress.

Chapter Thirty

Midnight. I’d once read this was the witching hour. Then I learned that only counted if the moon was full. As I jerked upright in bed, jarred awake by the shout in my head, I knew three things at once. The moon was only in its first quarter, showing like a halved dime in the sky. I’d overslept my shift change. And the voice I’d heard wasn’t my own.

Jack jumped into bed beside me, a forbidden practice that he knew would earn him a scolding. But as soon as he saw I was awake he bounded over me, went straight to the door, and began to scratch. I adjusted the receiver, which had fallen back into my hair while I’d napped. “Did you hear it too?” I asked.

Jack looked back at me and jumped on the door, the thump he made probably loud enough to alert Vayl, who’d retired to his room to see if he could pull up the results of the ash test we’d sent for, and also to help Albert hide from Rhona, who hadn’t given up her clumsy attempts at seduction.

The guys met us in the hall.

Before I could ask, Vayl said, “Cole is in trouble. Come.”

He led the way to the Scidair-hide. The door was cracked open. Vayl raised his eyebrows at me. As I drew and cocked Grief, I sent my extra senses into the room ahead of me. Shook my head. No scent of others. From the look on Vayl’s face he couldn’t feel any intense human emotions either. And Jack showed no more than mild interest in the entire exercise. With Albert staying in the hall to watch, we entered the room carefully. Vayl led, throwing frost ahead of him so thick I could see my breath before I’d taken a single step.

How, with a laptop feeding him camera shots, had Cole not seen them coming?

Scidair, my mind replied as it noted the upset chair. The quarter-sized spot of blood on the floor next to it. The wad of gum that had fallen out of his mouth at some point during the kidnap.

Or killing?

No. Hell no! I’d have known! I’d have felt him—pass! Right? Geez, where do you go when you can’t stand being inside your hysterical head one more second? Some girls find a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. Some shop. I warm my hand on the butt of my gun and sink into my own center. It’s not quite the shelter it used to be. Cracks have opened and the floor’s developed a big rusty spot, but it still does the job most of the time.

Vayl pointed to himself, jabbed a finger back toward Floraidh’s room. Then he gestured for me to take Jack and check out Dormal’s place. We met back in the hide less than fifteen seconds later, where Albert had at least had the presence of mind not to touch anything.

“She’s not in there,” I whispered. “Although I’m pretty sure we tripped whatever magical alarms they’ve woven over their rooms. I felt them zap as soon as we crossed the thresholds.”

Vayl shrugged it off. His expression said now was not the time to be timid. “Floraidh has left as well. She keeps a shrine to Samos behind that screen.”

“Okay, that’s pathetic.”

“I have not even begun. Besides pictures and ticket stubs she also has hair snippets, fingernail clippings, and a used condom.”

“Ick!” I watched Jack sniff at the bloodstain. My first instinct was to shove his nose away from the spot. His desire to take in that aspect of Cole’s scent grossed me out. Until I gave it a second thought.

He didn’t get that I might disapprove of his behavior. He was in dog mode, pointing on odors that stood out because, for one reason or another, they interested him. Maybe that’s how I needed to view Floraidh. Not as a woman who’d loved Samos enough to keep souvenirs of their time together. But as a Scidairan who needed bits of him in order to cast a spell that would . . . what? You can’t raise a man from the dead when he’s got no body to raise.

Unless you steal yourself another one.

Shit!

They must’ve been planning this for a while. And Cole probabëAndze=ly hadn’t even been the original target. But Floraidh had been forced to step up her timetable for some reason. Gather diamonds to fend off ghosts who would interfere because, why? Was Samos stuck somewhere in the Thin? And was it the shades’ job to make sure he didn’t come back? If Brude was Satan’s Enforcer, maybe he was sheltering Samos. Or trying to distract us so nobody could keep him from returning. But, then, why the need for the diamonds?

Didn’t matter. She’d manipulated Humphrey into handing over the goods. Taken Cole. And if we didn’t find them soon Samos would return.

We did a quick check of the hallway. Kinda redundant, since we knew it went nowhere but past the rooms we’d already searched.

“They can’t be that far ahead of us,” I fumed. “We just heard Cole’s voice!”

“You stay here and keep searching,” said Vayl. “Albert, go downstairs and keep watch over their car. At least we will know if they try to leave by the lane.”

“Should we”—I didn’t want to ask. It hurt to consider cutting Cole out of our loop. But if it would help in the end— “Should we tune the party line to a different frequency?”

“We would be assuming Floraidh and Dormal had found his receiver and understood its significance,” said Vayl. “Am I stating the situation correctly?”

“I’d say that about sums it up.”

He gave it a moment’s thought. “No. At worst I believe they will think it another one of our ghost-reaching gadgets. And anything that might help us find him faster is worth the risk.”

They took off, leaving me spinning in the hall, trying to decide if the Scidairans had taken Cole to the attic. Was there an attic? If so, would a coven perform wicked rites there while the guests slept two floors below? I don’t think so.

We’d closed the fourth-floor doors. Now I opened them wide. Went back into the linen closet where Jack lay, looking despondent, by the wrecked chair.

I crouched beside him. “What do you think?” I asked as he looked up at me with his expressive black eyes. “Can you help me find Cole?”

I heard his tail thump against the floor before I saw it wagging out of the corner of my eye. “Okay then.” I caught the end of his leash. “Have another sniff.” I directed his attention to the blood. Then we spent some time with the chair. When I couldn’t stand the delay any longer I said, “Got it?”

A straight-up perk of the ears told me he’d decided the game was on. I led him into the hall. Knelt down beside him. Said, “Where’s Cole? Where’d he go? Let’s find him, okay? Let’s go play with Cole!”

He sniffed around, with me repeating the command long enough that Vayl had rejoined us by the time Jack reached the wall at the hall’s end. The one with the cute little table holding our camera. Ducking under the table, Jack began to scratch.

I looked at Vayl. “I should’ve known better. My dog sucks at trailing. The last time we were home I accidentally dropped a hot dog on the floor while I was cooking supper one night. And despite the fact that he ëe fks was sitting beside me at the time I still had to show him where it landed.”

“At least Albert is in place,” Vayl replied. “They cannot drive Cole anywhere without us knowing it.”

Jack yelped and jumped back, all four of his paws clearing the ground at the same time as the section of floor that held the table suddenly lifted and slid three feet to the left.

As we watched the cleverly hidden trapdoor reveal a steep set of stairs, Vayl put a hand on my shoulder. “I suppose you know what this means?”

I leaned over and gave Jack a vigorous rubdown. “That my dog is better than a trained bloodhound?”

“No. That you are a terrible cook.”

I shot him a dirty look, but it missed. Because he’d already hit the stairs running. “Come on, boy,” I told my canine hero. “We’ll bide our time on the cook comment. Delayed revenge is always the sweetest.”

We followed Vayl down the stairs, taking a dangerous pace considering the lack of light and their narrow, winding path. At one point Jack stopped. Sniffed. Demanded that I sniff too. Or, if I was going to be crass about it, at least bend over and take a good look. More blood. They must’ve dropped him here.

We moved on, seeing no evidence of another exit by the time we’d reached what we thought should be the first floor.

“These stairs must end in the basement,” Vayl said.

“Makes sense,” I replied.

As we continued downward Albert’s voice broke the rhythm of my heightened breathing. “I hear an engine,” he said. “But nothing’s moving out front. It sounds like it’s coming from the barn.”

“Can you check it out without being seen?” asked Vayl.

Insulted huff. “Maybe someday I’ll teach you a thing or two about recon, ya baby.”

Ha! If only Albert knew how old Vayl really was! Um, never mind.

We finally reached the basement. Typical clutter you’d expect in a B and B storeroom. Broken bed. Shelves packed with paint cans. A freezer full of wrapped meat and frostbitten veggies. A dehumidifier humming away in the middle of the room. Also the guts of the building, which meant we had to bow our heads or be concussed by large pipes that led to the furnace and smaller ones that rushed water from its outer source up to every faucet in the place. Jack found the stairs that led up to a plank door, which stood open, witness to the Scidairans’ rush.

Vayl took my hand, not out of a sense of shared adventure or romance, but because he was getting ready to run and didn’t want me to slow him down. As we strode toward the exit I asked, “Will Jack be able to keep up with us?” I could run pretty fast now that I’d shared blood with a Were. But Vayl could practically fly.

He glanced down at the malamute panting happily at my heels. “He should. If not, let him go. He will find us.”

Vayl trotted up the stairëed hees. They led us into the herb garden. We could hear the engine now. “Sounds like an ATV,” I said.

“It’s a Honda Big Red,” said Albert. “You’ve seen those? They’re like mini Jeeps with two seats up front, a roll bar, and a small bed in back to haul things with.”

“I get the picture,” I said. “Where are you?”

“I’m by the barn, looking in through a crack in the outer wall. Four women inside that I can see. Dormal and Floraidh on the Big Red, the other two opening the back door for them. You’d better hustle. They’re backing out right now.”

We ran. “Do you see Cole?” asked Vayl.

“I’ve got the wrong angle. There’s definitely something in the bed of that thing, but it’s hard to tell what from here.”

As the distance closed between us and the barn, the Scidairans suddenly came into view. They’d turned the Big Red toward the path we’d taken to get to Tearlach during our Ghost-Walk. Hard to tell where they were headed. The cemetery? Clava Cairns? The castle and its plane-hopping doorway? Who cared? We didn’t intend to let them get to the tree line.

I realized I needed a hand free to work my weapon, so I dropped Jack’s leash, which had become taut enough as we ran that I realized he couldn’t keep up with us anyway. I pulled Grief, estimating the first moment I could fire and hope to hit my target. The part of me that hadn’t yet folded down into assassin mode noted Cole’s legs, clothed in ripped jeans and his favorite red high-tops, dangling over the edge of the vehicle’s bed, and realized he would be so pissed if he was conscious. In fact, he’d probably be saying something like, “This is just my luck. I couldn’t get nabbed by some high-class level of criminal who wears bling and rides in limos. No. I have to be kidnapped by the cast of Bewitched.”

Speaking of bling, was that glitter I saw reflecting from Floraidh’s neck Humphrey’s forgotten creation? I was thinking so. But before I could figure out how to make that vulnerability work for us, I hit a brick wall and landed flat on my ass. At which point Jack trotted up to me and sniffed my forehead as if to say, “See what you get for leaving me behind?”

I looked up. Whatever I’d hit had no visible boundaries. All I could see, with every one of my senses maxed out, was a slight bend in the horizon, as if I were viewing it from a telescope. And, of course, now that I wasn’t zeroed in on Cole I could smell the spell that had flung me down.

Vayl hadn’t been dumped, but he had been stunned. He stood a couple of arms’ lengths to one side of me, hands on his knees, slowly shaking his head.

I turned back to search for the cause of our blockage. There, at the corner of the barn. The other two women Albert had mentioned. I recognized one as the girl we’d seen manning the Tearlach table at GhostCon. The other was a fiftyish spinster with a forgettable face who must’ve decided taking care of her mother as she slowly faded from life wasn’t quite as fulfilling as she’d anticipated. So why not bow down to an evil sorceress on the side?

They wore long indigo dresses that clung like spiderwebs as they moved their hands through motions that reminded me eerily of the Raisers who’d inadvertently caused me a shitload of trë shs touble already. These motions, however, demanded where the Raisers pleaded. Their fingers jabbed, their fists punched, the sides of their hands sliced through the air as if to cut through the fabric of the planet itself. And the Raisers had steered wide of introducing sacrifice into their act. I couldn’t tell what had once animated the lump bleeding on the ground between Floraidh’s rear guard, but I suddenly felt like the most irresponsible pet owner ever, bringing Jack into a situation where animals his size ended up lying limp and lifeless so that wicked shitbricks could progress.

He didn’t seem too happy about the deal either. His ears laid back as he caught the scent of the carcass. Or maybe it was the Scidairan chant that put him off. It did sound like it had been written by someone who enjoyed the noise of whiny two-year-olds.

I shivered, realizing that the wintry lifting of Vayl’s powers was only part of the reason. I’m over my head this time, I thought. These women are going to fry us like moths in a bug zapper and there’s not a damn thing we can do to stop them. Still, I struggled to my feet. Better to die upright than flat on your tush, that’s what Granny May always used to say. Though why she’d ever had cause to develop that philosophy I had no idea. Too bad she wasn’t here to pour more pearls of wisdom into my empty brain. It could’ve used some bright ideas right about now.

As if he could read my mind Vayl murmured, “These cannot be full coven members. Floraidh will need those for whatever she has planned for Cole. These are novices, Jasmine. We can beat them.”

“With what?” I whispered. “How do you battle something whose weapons you can’t even see?” We’d never had to kill a Scidairan before, dammit. Pete saved those kinds of hits for our warlock.

He came to stand at my shoulder. “Use what you know. And then improvise.”

I took a deep breath. And yelled, “Love those outfits, girls! You look like a couple of litmus test strips. Yo, Vayl, did we bring the acid? Let’s turn these bitches red!”

Anybody with even a week of field experience wouldn’t have missed a step. But these bimbettes must’ve come fresh from the Scidair School of World-Ripping. They both hesitated. And in that moment, as it so often does during the most violent times of my life, everything slowed down as everyone moved at once.

Albert stepped out from hiding, swinging some sort of club at the shorter of the two Scidairans.

She fell to her knees as her partner spun to face this new threat. I hoped the shock of Albert’s attack would send her into instinctual attack mode. If she just jumped him, he’d be fine. Even at his age he could pound the crap out of men twice his size. Unfortunately she kept her cool. Sweeping her power from the shield that had barred us, she shoved it at my dad, throwing him into the barn’s wall. He crumpled to the ground.