One More Bite

by Jennifer Rardin

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 want 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 r
eply.” 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 black 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 he 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 beg
un 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 . . .”