He tried to answer. I could tell he wanted to say something smartass and slightly witty. Instead his jaw dropped and he keeled over, his head hitting the floor with a satisfying clunk.
I looked at Raoul. “Cassandra says that’s Vayl’s son.”
Raoul studied the unconscious young man. Then he said, “We should break it to him gently.”
CHAPTER TWO
Wednesday, June 13, 1:30 a.m.
I sat next to Raoul on the second-to-last step of the main stairs, watching the boy who would be killer sponge up Vayl’s blood and squeeze it into a bucket of bleach water between bouts of gagging that never quite turned into a pukefest. Soooo satisfying to see him gross out on an aftermath he hadn’t planned for. But not quite enough to leash the urge to impale him on the lance artfully displayed in the corner next to the front-door topiary and the chair Aaron had previously sat down in before he’d fallen and given himself a goose egg right in the middle of his forehead. Frankly, I couldn’t wait for him to look in the mirror. I felt it would be the big blue bow on a gift that just kept giving.
So, for now, I kept one hand buried in Jack’s soft fur, and when the rage rose to heights that felt a little too violent for Aaron’s personal safety, I reminded myself to imagine that goose egg at about three times its current size. I also glanced at Raoul every thirty seconds or so. In life he’d been a Ranger, so at his core he was a fierce fighting man. That was why he’d chosen to battle on into the afterlife. Still, around that core existed a serenity that calmed me. So just rubbing shoulders with him helped me remember that now was the time to live up to the nickname our department’s warlock, Sterling, had dumped on me, and Chill.
“What’s he going to do to me?” Aaron asked, trying not to look down the hall but darting his eyes in that direction anyway. He couldn’t see the kitchen door from where he crouched because you had to go through the dining room to get there. Which was a good thing. Better to spook him with his own wild imagination. Let him think Vayl was sharpening up a set of butcher knives, or calling in a whole slew of slavering revenants to tear into Aaron like a Christmas turkey. Unless, of course, he spilled his employer’s name, address, and current Facebook status.
So Raoul and I just mustered up our most baleful expressions and kept silent on the news that Vayl had taken his massive headache back to the fridge, where he’d found some prepackaged, government-distributed blood to nuke in his favorite coffee cup. Though it would speed healing, what he needed most was a good day’s sleep. Knowing him like I did, I figured that while he ate he’d probably take the servants’ stairs to our room, which had a connecting bath the size of my entire first apartment, where he’d clean up before he came back down. It wasn’t just that he didn’t care to walk around with blood caked behind his ears. Like me, he needed some time to decompress or he would, without even thinking, tear a hole in Aaron’s throat that you could drive a remote-control car through.
I could feel my avhar’s fury even now, burning like the flames I’d seen in the sky the night Raoul and I had traveled to hell. Then it had blazed through anyone who dared to raise their eyes from the ground. Yeah, them and their fifty closest pals. Vayl was just as capable as Raoul of dishing out that kind of damage. Luckily he’d figured out a long time ago the danger he posed to anyone in his vicinity if he let his inner predator take the reins. So as soon as he’d regained consciousness he’d put a hand to his head, taken a long look at the blood on his fingertips, and then raised his icy blue eyes to mine. For a moment they flickered over my shoulder, acknowledged Raoul standing guard over Aaron, then returned to me where I still knelt beside him, holding tight to his other hand.
If I’d just met him I’d have thought he was some kind of sociopath, his face was such a hardened mask. But by now I knew the blank stare meant he was struggling to keep his feelings from erupting into violence. Cirilai, the ring his grandfather had crafted at his mother’s request and that had, as she’d predicted, once again saved his soul, sent hot stabbing pains through my fingers. I jerked my hand out of his, staring at the golden knots twisting lovingly around each exquisite ruby that sparkled on my finger, wondering which one had zapped me.
“What happened?” asked Vayl.
“Cirilai hurt me. I think that means you’re about to blow,” I said.
He nodded, his eyes fading rapidly to black. “Deal with that,” he said, his finger-flick indicating that if I didn’t do something with Aaron, he’d have to. And it wouldn’t be pretty.
“Absolutely.”
He’d been gone about twenty minutes when Aaron began to show concern. Which was when I told him, “Whatever the vampire plans for you will be relatively painless compared to what I’m gonna do.”
He paused in his scrubbing to stare me down. “You don’t look that scary.” The dude couldn’t quite get the tremble out of his throat, but he still managed to meet my eyes. I gave him half a point for effort.
Raoul laughed. “Do you want to know how her friend Cole describes her?”
Aaron dropped his head to one side, which was all the encouragement my Spirit Guide needed. He said, “Cole says she may be a skinny white chick, but she’ll kick your ass so fast you’ll wonder why your butt cheeks are dented.”
I hid a smirk and reminded myself to call my buddy, and former recruit, as soon as I had a free minute. Our last mission had been a bitch to him and he wasn’t adapting well to the downtime. In fact, this situation would probably cheer him up immensely. Give him something to take his mind off the fact that he’d nearly become a demon in Marrakech, and part of him had liked it. I sent a mental message to Teen Me to try to remember where I’d left my phone in all the chaos, while I went on with the task at hand. Which was to get as much information as I could out of the prisoner while Vayl was still pissed at him. Because as soon as he found out they’d once been as close as two men ever managed to get, that’d be the end of it.
I said, “Raoul here says your first name is Aaron. What’s your last name?” I asked.
“How does he know that?” Aaron demanded.
“It’s his job. Now. You got a last name?”
I watched him consider stubbornness. And then realize it didn’t really matter. We had him cold. He said, “Sullivan.”
I sat forward just enough to cause Jack to readjust his head where it lay on my lap. He moved it to my knees, blinking his eyes from me to Aaron and back again like he truly understood our conversation. “They sent you in blind, didn’t they? I’d almost guess someone wanted you dead, except you nearly succeeded in killing Vayl, so I have to believe whoever hired you really wanted him out of the picture. Would you like to fork over any names before your lips get too puffy for me to understand you perfectly and you have to keep repeating yourself?”
Raoul said, “Jaz. Do we have to threaten him with violence already? He hasn’t even stopped cooperating.”
I glared at my Spirit Guide. “I’m itching for an excuse to punch this little creep. Would you stop being so damn nice?”
I turned to Aaron, waiting for his answer. But apparently Raoul’s soft heart had made his decision for him. He sealed his lips shut, shook his head, and went back to cleaning.
I said, “You should know it’s not just me and Vayl you have to worry about. After we’re done with you I’ll be calling a very select group of government agents who, after hearing you’ve nearly smoked one of the most valuable public servants this country has ever known, will be only too happy to make sure you disappear forever. But not before you learn how to scream like a little girl. That is, unless you cooperate. You got me?”
Aaron didn’t bother to look up as he said, “I have nothing to tell you besides the fact that I tried to kill a filthy vampire and I failed. Now I’m going to get my blood sucked dry. In fact, by morning I’ll probably be one of those leeches with legs myself.” He shook his head, spat with disgust, then wiped it up with a rag I’d be burning shortly.
Rip out his hair and feed it to him, Jaz! It was my Inner
Bimbo, teetering on her bar stool because she was balancing a cigarette between two fingers and a rum and Coke in the same hand, and rummaging through her big, black bag with the other hand. I had to chime in, even if it was only in my mind.
Why do you care? He’s so not your type I’m surprised you’re actually able to see him. So far the only upside to his personality I’ve found is that he’s discovered the single kernel of bravery inside his core and he’s hanging on to it for dear life—what the hell are you doing?
After what just happened with Vayl, you have to ask why that piece of shit deserves battery clips and a strong current? As for what I’m doing, I thought I had a book on self-defense in here, you know, just in case one of my lovers gets a little too frisky. When I find it I’m going to read you all kinds of suggestions for how to deepen his dimples. She paused to imitate a bellows, sucking in and blowing out enough cigarette smoke to give the entire bar the feel of a foggy Halloween night. Remember, I’m the one who knows best how to make you lose control.
Pull in the claws, Sheba. This one gets to live. Although if I decide to slap him around a little you can be my cheerleader.
Stellar! I even have the outfit!
Why am I not surprised?
I’d been silent enough to make Aaron-boy nervous. Still concentrating on his cleaning he asked, “What’re you going to do with me?”
Fuck if I know. So I answered his question with a question. “How many vampires have you met?”
“Including yours?”
“Yeah.”
“None. I wouldn’t say we’d been properly introduced, would you?”
I stood up and, surprisingly, Raoul didn’t hold me back. He didn’t even protest when I grabbed Aaron’s .38 Special out of his waistband and shoved it against the little prick’s skull. “I’ve had enough of your attitude. Normally I enjoy smartasses. But not when they’ve just tried to murder the man I love.”
“He’s not a man. He’s a parasite!”
I pushed down on the barrel hard enough to leave a nice round imprint if I ever decided to back off, and Aaron figured out it was my turn to talk. “That vampire has been working for the United States government for eighty years. He’s saved our country from decimation more times than I care to recount. In fact, dumbass, you just nearly destroyed a national treasure.”
He looked up at me then, his cheeks jiggling slightly with the nerve it took to meet my eyes. I found myself respecting him slightly more as he managed a firm, “No.”
“In some circles he’s considered to be more important than the president.”
Aaron scrubbed for a while in silence. When he had nothing left but clean floor to stare at he threw the rag in the bucket and sat back on his heels. “I don’t believe you.” Stubborn. I should have expected as much from Vayl’s spawn, even this many generations removed from his direct influence.
“Astral,” I called.
I’d left the robokitty Bergman had invented for me upstairs with orders to stay in my room until she heard from me again. Hopefully she’d function properly now that I really needed her to pull through for me.
She streaked down the stairs, a sleek black missile on four legs with twitchy ears, a lashing tail, and a tendency to burst into inappropriate songs that had developed only after Jack had surprised her during a reconnaissance, causing her to blow her own head off. The repairs had been more, and less, than a complete success. Considering the latest eccentricity to appear in what had become the quirkiest personality I’d ever seen in a homemade cat, I was voting for less.
Jack greeted Astral by sitting up straight at Raoul’s knee. He knew better than to jump her now. In fact, most of the time he was willing to wait until she approached him or called him over to play. I watched her just as carefully, and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding when all she did was bob her head at me and say, “Hello!”
I nodded at her, though I understood that I was acknowledging a mobilized supercomputer, and said, “Show me Vayl’s file. Keep the top secret parts to yourself.”
Astral’s mouth ratcheted open and a light clicked on, movietheater style. At the same time a hologram of Vayl’s papers appeared in front of my face even as I heard a velvety-voiced woman reading them. “Vasil Nicu Brâncoveanu. Born in what is now Mogosoaia, Romania, on November 18, 1713, though at the time the area was called Wallachia. Became a vampire in 1751. Current assignment: Agent for Antiterrorism Division of the Central Intelligence Agency commonly known as ATD. Division is temporarily shut down at the request of its Oversight Committee due to the murder of one of its agents, Ethan Mreck, and its director, Peter Huttin.”
Of course that wasn’t the whole truth. Our division existed as a subsidiary of the ATD, its name so secret only a few people in government had ever even heard it. And my boss, Pete, had actually been following his “secretary” Martha’s orders all along. But the rest—way more truth than I’d wanted to deal with today. Damn Aaron Sullivan.
He said, “Why are you letting me see this?” The whites of his eyes had begun to show. “This really isn’t a bluff, is it? It doesn’t matter what I know if you’ve already decided to kill me.” He shoved his thumb into his mouth, started to chew the nail, then quickly wrapped his arm around his back with a guilty look, like he’d been caught raiding the cookie jar. I wondered, suddenly, how many times his parents had cracked his knuckles for biting his nails as a kid.
Hiding a sudden rush of sympathy, I pulled the gun away from his head. “You have pissed me off more deeply than anyone I’ve met in the past six months and you’re still alive. That reads well for your future. The fact that I’m explaining Vayl to you at all should give you even more hope.”
“But why?”
“Yes.” Vayl had come through the dining room door. He held a bag of frozen peas to the wound on his forehead. “Why do you give this young man my secrets?”
I felt Aaron do a big swallow beside me. It’s one thing to attack an unsuspecting victim inside his front door. Especially when you’re rushing in with your head full of preconceived notions. It’s a whole other story to mop up the blood you spilled and then watch your target saunter down the hall, all cleaned up and pissed as hell that you interrupted a fabulous evening, ruined his favorite shirt, and gave him a pounding headache.
I savored the moment, knowing how quickly it was about to change. Dreading the possibilities ahead of me. Vayl’s two sons had been murdered when he was still human. He had made it his quest to find their re-embodied souls ever since. And now that the reality was staring me in the face, I wanted to annihilate it. So typical.
I stepped back, shoving Aaron’s revolver into the waistband of my jeans to make sure it was well out of the way when I told Vayl, “Cassandra called to warn me about the shooting just before it happened. Obviously I was too late to stop it, and I sure as hell wanted to follow through with the retribution after I’d seen what this dude had done. But she wouldn’t let me.”
“Why not?” Vayl asked, his icy blue eyes tracking every stray hair, every bruise and hollow of his attacker, cataloguing what he saw for future reference.
I cleared my throat. “She believes he’s your son.”
Vayl went still. His eyes broke to mine, hope blooming in them like wild daffodils. “Is she sure?”
“Not without touching him, but she spoke to him. She ran the tarot. And the Enkyklios is confirming. She says this guy Aaron is the reincarnation of your boy Badu.”
I glanced at Raoul. He was watching Vayl intently, his hands buried in Jack’s fur. I realized he was hoping Vayl wouldn’t be crushed when Aaron rejected him. That, despite his personal problems with vamps, he was quietly supporting the creature he’d tried to boot out of my life a few months ago.
After a minute I realized Vayl hadn’t responded. I looked back up at him and tried to decide if he’d changed in that moment, or if I’d suddenly been given leave to see him more clearly. His hair, still glistening with droplets from the shower, curled riotously
all over his head. His jet-black eyebrows slanted like wings over eyes that had softened to gold with brown flecks dancing in their depths. They contrasted startlingly with the hard lines of his cheekbones and jaw, although when I saw the dimple appear in his right cheek I knew his feelings ran deep to the hopeful side of the bank.
“I cannot believe it.”
“Okay.” And yet, you want to, so damn desperately. Oh, Vayl. I won’t be able to stand it if this little fuckhead breaks your heart. I glared at Aaron, showing him with my eyes exactly what I would do to him if he hurt my sverhamin, in any way, ever again.
Vayl stepped closer to the young man, the intensity of his stare making the boy look nervously for an exit. Like he’d make it that far. Vayl grasped him by the shoulders and raised him to his feet, looking so deeply into his eyes that Aaron winced as he asked shakily, “What do you want?” Then, realizing he might not like the answer, added, “I’m a really rare blood type. It’s probably all bitter and tangy.”
“Undoubtedly,” said Vayl. He glanced at me. “How sure is she?”
“I’d guess about eighty percent.”
His eyes went back to his would-be assassin. “It is more than any other Sister of the Second Sight has given me in all these decades.” He switched to a different language—Romanian, if I had my dialects right—speaking almost urgently as he pressed his hands into Aaron’s shoulders.
“I don’t know what you’re saying.” Aaron looked to me desperately. “I don’t know! But I swear, my dad is—was—Aaron Sullivan, Sr. He worked for the power company until he died. And if I don’t kill this vampire”—he lifted his forearm so he could point at Vayl while he talked—“he’s never going to stop haunting me and I’m never going to pass the bar and I’m going to spend the rest of my life clerking for Schmidt, Glesser, and Roflower at a desk the size of a DVD player!”
The Deadliest Bite Page 3