Biting the Bullet

by Jennifer Rardin

  “I know where he is,” I said. I stood up, swayed dangerously, grabbed on to Vayl and Cole as they straightened me up again. “We’re going to need some wheels. And a couple more guns.”

  The four of us went back into the kitchen.

  “David!” Cassandra went to her knees beside my twin. Who was sitting up. Shaking hands. Not smiling. But not ripping anybody a new one either.

  I stopped just inside the doorway, my hands clutching Vayl and Cole each by the forearm. Otherwise I definitely would have fallen. The relief took the juice completely out of my legs. But since Cassandra was doing my sobbing for me, I was able to stand dry-eyed. Waiting for his verdict. He looked into my eyes and the room went silent. “I could never have done what you’ve done,” he finally said. “You’re an amazing woman. Thank you.”

  I bobbed my head, pressing my lips together so I wouldn’t start blubbering. Because the next step would definitely be snot bubbles. And I so did not want to ruin this moment with snot bubbles. So I did it with work.

  “I can’t even tell you how happy I am to have you back. But we have to go,” I told him. “Cassandra says if we don’t, the Wizard will go free.”

  “You know where he is?” asked Cam as David’s face drained of the little color he’d regained at the mention of his former master.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’re taking the TV van.”

  “Then you’ll have room for us,” said Jet, rising with the sort of try-to-stop-me purpose I’d learned early on not to fight against.

  I shrugged and said, “Yeah, okay, whoever wants to come.”

  “That would be all of us,” said Dave. He struggled to his feet. And rather than let him embarrass himself, Cam and Natchez gave him a hand. He looked around. “Where’s Grace? We’re going to need her too.”

  “She’s been injured,” I said shortly, unwilling to take him on that guilt trip for the moment. We all knew better than to try to talk Dave out of coming with us. Still, it was easily the worst idea of all time. I needed him gone. Far away. Preferably in another time zone, where we could only speak via sat phone, our signals kissing cheeks as they met at a dish not unlike the one that sat atop the TV van. Which gave me the brightest idea ever. Inside my head, Granny May grinned, nodded with approval, and said, Finally.

  “I need you and Jet at the TV station,” I told Dave. “Right now it’s being manned by the two remaining reavers who were sent to take me out. You need to either get control of them, so they’ll obey your orders, or kill them and then figure out how to receive a live feed from the van and then transmit it out the tower. Just remember, if you do kill them, you’ll also have to contend with mahghul.” I described the little buggers and briefly explained my own showdown with them in front of the temple.

  “It sounds as if you have a plan,” said Vayl.

  I tried to contain my rising excitement, but as I continued to roll the idea around in my brain and couldn’t think of any huge stoppers, I couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Maybe,” I said. “Just maybe there’s a way we can save our asses while we accomplish this one. Bergman? We’re going to need your expertise, buddy. Looks like you’re really going to earn that vacation tonight.”

  Fleeting look of fear. Then it was replaced by a new expression. Bergman and determination: I kind of thought they looked good on each other. He nodded sharply. “You’ve got me.”

  “Cam, don’t you guys all carry first aid kits?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m going to need to fake an injury to my left hand.” He looked bewildered, but knew better than to ask questions while I was on a roll. As he left to get his supplies I spec-phoned Asha. “How’s it going on your end?” I asked.

  “Excellent. You would not believe the plans FarjAd and Zarsa have made! I think they have pulled apart the seams of the world and resewn them four different times since they met! Zarsa believes she can use her Gift to help FarjAd survive any future attacks. And he thinks having a woman of her ability and family support will bring even more people to his movement. And you?”

  “So far, so good. But I have another favor to ask: We need your wheels one last time.” I explained our mission and my plan as well as I could in ten seconds.

  “I will be right there,” he said. I had to give Asha his pats. When he finally decided to step back into the ring, he did it with both feet.

  We all escorted Dave to the living room to wait with Jet for Asha. Cassandra would stay with them too until they left, at which time she’d go back to Grace. The Amazon was definitely getting the short end of the stick on this one. But considering Dave had just died — again — I wasn’t wasting any sympathy on her.

  “I’ll be okay,” Dave kept insisting as one by one we asked him if we could get him anything before we left. It just felt wrong to go. We should be celebrating. We should be bouncing off the ceilings, for chrissake! And instead we were deserting the man whose resurrection we had all hoped and prayed for. Not only that. We were allowing him to step back into a life-or-death situation. Despite the fact that we all knew none of us had any other choice, it sucked.

  One thing I could do. Raoul? You are keeping some sort of watch, right? Over him? Over E.J.? THEY ARE WELL PROTECTED.

  And that would have to do for now. I patted Dave as we finally ran out of excuses not to go. “Be careful, please. If I have to bring you back to life again, Raoul’s going to want something major, like a virgin sacrifice. And I need Bergman too badly to give him up at this point.”

  Dave laughed, as he was meant to. It brought a whole new meaning to the phrase “music to my ears.”

  Then, so suddenly it took my breath away, he swung me into a bear hug, lifting me until my toes barely touched the floor. “I love you,” he said. “And about Jessie? I understand. And I forgive you.”

  I stood back in his arms. Grateful for his words. Certain they came from his heart. But also sure that heart was no longer as comfortable as it once was. I could see it in his eyes. In the way he looked at his men and then quickly at his fists, so they wouldn’t catch the flicker of rage. Not at them. At himself, for consorting with their enemy. For endangering their lives and their country. It didn’t make sense. Maybe it never would. But I understood. He’d only begun to deal with the realities of what he’d done. And even though he hadn’t been responsible, he was still the boss. So he felt like he was. Maybe we could talk it through. Later. Right now — it was time to finish the mission.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The Wizard headquartered in the northern part of the city, where the mountains loomed over the rooftops like angry gods. I eyed his house through the rolled-down window of the TV van, charmed by the visual despite knowing its contents. The three-story confection reminded me of a miniature Taj Mahal, a bright white masterpiece complete with turrets and five separate domed roofs. It stood surrounded by a large well-lit yard, securely fenced by a six-foot wall of mauve-tinted concrete. Not a very nondescript home in which to hide the King of Chaos. However the Wizard was also Delir Kazimi, a well-known businessman and community leader. Popular due to his generous contributions to charity. For him the mini mansion, his home away from his Saudi headquarters, fit.

  However, its designers had clearly put security first. Cameras perched on the corners of the fence and on strategic points of the house itself. Only one gate allowed access from the front, and that crossed a cement driveway. This led me to assume pedestrian visitors were not welcome at Chez Wiz. While that gate wasn’t manned, it was guarded by an intimidating-looking digital lock whose keypad required you to put your hand entirely inside a metal box. I imagined if your fingerprints didn’t match the scan a small blade came down and chopped it right off.

  As I took a turn around the block my specs notified me of an incoming call. It was Jet.

  “Everything’s secure here,” he said.

  “How’s Dave?”

  “About like you’d expect.”

  I took that as a tired-but-functioning and decided to be satisfi
ed. “Okay. We’ll call when we’re ready for you.” I broke contact.

  As I approached the front of the place again, I reviewed the conversation we’d had on the way to the Wizard’s backup stronghold, looking for holes in our admittedly flimsy and alarmingly last-minute plan.

  “Jasmine and I will go in alone,” Vayl had said as I drove, following the pull of the Wizard’s scent, taking as straight a route as I could manage without actually mowing through yards and parks.

  “Vayl’s got a way of moving unnoticed that even you guys can’t match,” Bergman had explained. He’d taken one of the four available chairs, with Cole, Cam, and Natchez filling the other three. If they’d pulled them up to the banks of monitors and electronic controls that lined the walls of the van, they could’ve covered the summer Olympics. As it was they simply belted in and made sure their weapons were ready to fire.

  “Fine,” said Cam, twirling in his chair so he could see Vayl better. “What’s our role?”

  “Bait,” he said frankly. I glanced in the rearview to see how Bergman would take this morsel. Looked to me like he was forcing himself to chew, fighting his ingrained urge to regurge. Well, what do you know? He really meant it when he said he was tired of being a wuss. As I reworked my perspective of him to include some newfound respect, Vayl went on. “Jasmine and I are betting the Wizard will not be able to resist the lure of this TV truck since he just received an anonymous tip — thanks to Bergman — that Edward Samos has taken control of the station and has sent reavers to initiate the coup Jasmine mentioned to David just after we entered the country. He will send his guards to take it out. It will be up to you four to make sure that does not happen.”

  “Understood,” said Cam, gritting his teeth on his toothpick as he spoke. “We’ll have the drop on them, so if we plan well it could even go down without a fight.” The rest of the men nodded and put their heads together. Before they could begin formulating a plan, Vayl signaled Cole.

  “As soon as you catch sight of them, let us know,” he said. “It will mean they have temporarily disabled their security system, which will be our cue to move into the house.”

  I wished Bergman had brought enough hi-tech instant-communications devices for the whole bunch of us, but he hadn’t anticipated such a large group needing to network on our dime. So, while Cole could talk to us through his stick-on transmitter, if anyone else on the team wanted a word, he’d have to use Cole as a relay.

  I pulled the van to a stop beside the curb. To our right, darkened houses marched down the street like good little soldiers, all of them built to similar specs, the only difference being the color scheme and the shape of the gate in the obligatory fence/wall that separated sidewalk from courtyard. I wondered what the neighbors would say when they discovered they’d been living across the street from one of the world’s most reviled terrorists. I could hear the interviews now.

  “You know, maybe we should’ve been suspicious when the bomb went off in his basement. But we thought he was learning to play the bass drum. And who would we tell anyway? Half the cops on the force are scared to leave their cars and the other half are working for him!”

  I looked back at the guys, sharing the smile that can grow right out of your teeth just before battle. It’s involuntary. Like breathing. Or shaking your ass to rap music. Something about the threat of death just makes you feel alive. I know I wouldn’t have chosen any other spot than the one I occupied beside these fierce, grinning men tonight.

  Okay. We’re as ready as we’re going to get. I looked a question at Vayl. Now? He gave me the slight tilt of his head that passed as a nod. I felt his powers rise once again, like a cool swirling breeze that encased only us.

  “Where’d they go?” asked Natchez.

  “I told you he was good,” said Bergman. I followed Vayl out his side of the van, slamming the door on Bergman’s monologue of my boss’s known and suspected kills despite a strong urge to crawl into the back, sit absolutely still, and listen like I might never hear again.

  With Vayl’s camouflage flowing over us we walked boldly across the street, daring the cameras to record us. They might show some movement, but watchers would see it as a blur and think the lenses needed to be cleaned.

  A miniscule jerk of Vayl’s head told me he wanted to head around back. I followed closely enough to stay within his sphere of influence. Reaching into the compound with my senses, I tried to pick up any information I could. I’m no Cassandra, but I can perceive intense human emotion. And somebody inside was pissed.

  “Vayl,” I whispered. “We made the Wizard mad.”

  “Really?” he drawled.

  “I’m thinking we can use that to our advantage.”

  He slanted me an amused look over his shoulder. “Jasmine, if anyone can manipulate someone else’s fury to her gain, it is you.”

  “I’m taking that as a compliment,” I warned him.

  He made a muffled sound that I interpreted as a chuckle. “I meant it no other way.”

  The house took up half the block. We turned the corner, followed it to a private access road. It was blocked by a chained gate upon which hung a sign that might’ve spelled out why nobody but the owners were allowed to drive past that point — except I couldn’t read Farsi, so I was just guessing. For all I knew, it said, Sick of living? Have we got a job for you! Inquire inside. The gate itself was lower than the one in front. Also somewhat in disrepair. In fact, it looked to me like somebody had run into it with their vehicle. Hard. Leaving a buckled-in spot that made it resemble an enormous football player who’s just been kicked in the cojones. The resulting fold made a great foothold for us as we climbed to the top of the wall and then gently dropped to the other side. The lack of outbuildings and absolute void in landscaping meant we could see the entire backyard and rear of the house from our vantage point. The only adornment the architect had given this area was a pool. But there were no lawn chairs. No potted plants. Nothing softened the stark effect of cement-encased water. It looked like a place where people are baptized. Or drowned.

  If I’d been a run-of-the-mill assassin, the distance between the gate at which I stood and the back of the house would have seemed to stretch for miles. The Wizard had made it virtually impossible for anyone to sneak up on him while he was at home. But then, he’d never expected to be targeted by a vampire like Vayl.

  We had our choice of entrances. As we faced the house, the garage sat to our left. It had four bays, all of them accessed by barnlike closures. A walk led from the driveway to the main door, a windowless white-painted archway with a black metal latch. To our far right, almost at the building’s edge, was another entry. A much less imposing white rectangle — definitely reserved for the servants. Vayl motioned to my gut. Where is it leading you? his expression asked me. I nodded to door number two.

  We walked to the corner of the building. Despite our relative safety, it still felt eerie to cross someone’s line of sight and realize you might as well be invisible to them. Too bad we didn’t have more time. It would be such a blast to make them think they were cursed. I could just see the guards, gathered around the monitors.

  “Holy crap, Khorsand!” one of them would shriek. “Look at camera five! The light fixtures have leaped off the garage and are floating around the pool like severed heads! What could it mean?”

  “We are obviously being haunted by the souls of all the good men we murdered, NimA,” his partner would respond. “The only choice we have left to us is to fall upon our swords!”

  I sighed. Aah, if it were only that easy.

  We took our positions and waited for Cole’s signal.

  “You smell amazing,” said Vayl, standing as close as he could get to me without touching. Apparently that was his definition of professional distance.

  “Keep your mind on the job, bub.”

  “Bub? Is that my new nickname?”

  “Sure.”

  “I hate it,” Vayl said decisively. “Give me another.”

  I
looked up at him, his excitement so palpable I could almost reach out and stroke it, like a luscious mink coat I’d feel guilty about petting while I totally grooved on the furry. This job necessarily brings out the worst in us, usually at the same moment. We were feeling the buzz now. That rush of God-power that precedes most kills. Lucky for us, my contrary nature drives me to poke holes in anything that seems overinflated.

  “I had a parakeet named Murray once. How about that?” I asked.

  His shoulders dropped. “Are you serious? When you look at me you think . . . parakeet?”

  “Definitely,” I said, warming up to the idea now that I knew he hated it. “Because your eyes turn all kinds of colors like a parakeet’s feathers. And your fangs are kind of shaped like its beak. Murray crapped on newspapers. And you read the newspapers while you —” His look stopped me. “Or maybe, being a vampire, that’s not a necessary function. But since you eat, and you take the papers, I just thought —”

  “Jasmine!”

  “You’re right. This conversation should definitely wait until we’ve known each other a while longer.”

  I didn’t catch his entire reply, but it sounded like he might’ve said, “A hundred years longer.”

  “Okay,” came Cole’s voice. “I’ve had all I can stand without puking. Plus, the bad guys are coming. Repeat, Wizard henchies are on the loose.”

  I took off the necklace I wore, worked the shark’s tooth into the lock, and waited while Bergman’s molten metal worked itself into the correct configuration. Within ten seconds we were inside, sans alarm, thanks to our baited TV van. I spared a moment to hope for their success. Then I brought all my concentration back to the task at hand.

  We’d walked into a room that seemed too small and far too plain for the rest of the house. It was as if the architect had come to this corner and mused, “Well . . . they are going to need somewhere to throw their bloody clothes.”

  In America we’d have called it a mud room. It was basically an eight-by-nine dump-your-shoes-and-shawl area, with a row of pegs on the wall opposite the door on which hung a couple of caps. Faded brown tile covered the floor. Two steps led up to another door. I unzipped the pouch at my waist as Vayl gently inched it open. The dental mirror I carried reflected a large meeting room. Dark and empty, it reminded me of a church basement. Long tables. Folding chairs. And on the other end a kitchen area. Smaller rooms adjoined the large one, but we weren’t interested in those. The Wizard was brewing up a storm on one of the upper floors.