Bite Marks

by Jennifer Rardin

  Bergman leaned forward, rubbing his hands on his knees with excitement. “Remember the first time Cassandra showed us one of the stories from it? How all the glass balls kept rearranging themselves, changing shape as they searched for the information she wanted?”

  How could I forget? That story had played out the personal tragedy that still sometimes woke me up screaming. I cleared my throat. “I remember.”

  “Considering the tight spaces you might need RAFS to slip into, I thought it would be helpful if she could change shapes the way the Enkyklios does. So I asked Cassandra to help me imbue her with some special qualities—”

  I held up my hand. “Wait a second. You mean she’s a magical robot?”

  He winced. “It’s not like she’s going to pull out a wand and start zapping mice into oblivion. But, yeah, she can rearrange her anatomy in… Here, let me demonstrate. Call her.”

  I whistled. Jack wheeled around, put his front paws up on my legs, and shoved his face into mine. “Dude, what have you been eating? No, don’t tell me.” I reached into my jacket pocket and found a Milk-Bone. “Here. Pretend you’re brushing your teeth.” As if I needed further evidence that he deserved lapdog privileges, he jumped into the seat beside me, curled into the smallest ball he could manage (mega-beach), and began chomping at his treat.

  Bergman waited until Jack was settled before saying, “Obviously RAFS doesn’t respond to whistling. She’s a cat. Try calling her name.”

  “Come here, RAFS.”

  “You could be sweeter.”

  “She’s made of metal.”

  “And other stuff!”

  “Look, she came when I called,” I said, motioning to the robokitty, who’d climbed onto Vayl’s shoulder right next to me.

  “Jaz!” Bergman wasn’t whining. Quite.

  I rolled my eyes at Vayl. Seriously? I have to make nice with Bergman’s walking camera?

  Since we’d been working together long enough to read every nuance of each other’s expressions, he got the message instantly. His response? Yes.

  And I thought the neurotic in him wouldn’t piss me off until we’d at least gotten to the rental house.

  Vayl’s lips rose a couple of millimeters. In anyone else it would’ve been a grin.

  I said, “Fine, I’ll pretend she’s going to stalk off in a huff if I give her any sass.” I leaned back to get a better view, making sure I gave Jack a good petting as I did so he wouldn’t feel left out if he noticed me paying attention to another “animal.”

  The sound her innards made tried to be a purr, though it reminded me more of computer fans than contented cat. Up close, her eyes seemed the most real, even when her pupils expanded and contracted to fine-tune her video feed. I reached out to touch her, poised to pull back in case she swiped at my hand, but she allowed me to run a finger down her front leg. It felt metallic but yielding, reminding me of the alien costumes on a bad Sci Fi Channel movie.

  “RAFS doesn’t fit you,” I murmured. “It’s probably an acronym for some impossibly long and hard to pronounce gearhead title.”

  “Hey!” objected Bergman, but weakly, because it was true.

  Ignoring him, I went on. “You need a space-age name. One I wouldn’t be surprised to hear if Captain Kirk landed on your planet and found you rubbing up against his leg right before you disintegrated the henchmen he’d brought along just in case. Let’s see…”

  “How about Pluto?” suggested Cassandra.

  “You’re not naming my best-yet invention after a demoted planet!” Bergman objected.

  “I had a great deal to do with the success of your invention!” Cassandra reminded him.

  “I never said you didn’t!”

  “Stop!” I yelled. “You two are giving me flashbacks to when I had to give you time-outs. Show me you’ve matured so I don’t have to call a nanny!” I turned to Vayl. “Tell your kids to behave.”

  “Need I remind you that these are the good ones?” He reached up and pulled the cat down onto his lap. “What if we call her Astral?”

  “That I like. All in favor—I don’t care because she’s mine.” I leaned forward and patted Bergman on the knee. “Thanks, Miles. She’s amazing.”

  “But you haven’t seen the best part.”

  “Oh yeah, the shape-changing thing.” I was about to say, “Have at it.” But the beach ball beside me had been eyeing Astral and realized he might have a chance to give her a big welcome-to-the-family kiss now that Vayl held her quiet in one place.

  Without warning he lobbed himself over my lap and landed on Vayl’s, reaching under his own forelegs to lick Astral’s smooth back. He yelped when his slobbers melted her, leaving a quarter-inch-thick blob to roll its eyes at Jack as he yanked his tail between his legs, jumped to the floor, and took refuge next to Cassandra.

  “Bergman!” snapped Vayl.

  At the same time I said, “What the hell?”

  And Bergman held out both hands like he’d just introduced us to his favorite new girlfriend. “See?”

  The black blob in Vayl’s lap wiggled over his thigh onto the seat between us. She slithered up to the headrest before quietly re-forming. The only extra noises she made were a series of clicks when her claws emerged, evidently as part of a test cycle, because they pulled back into her paws shortly afterward.

  “That’s freaking cool,” I breathed. Bergman smiled.

  “How is she powered?” asked Vayl.

  He shrugged, back to his old share-no-secrets self. “No need to worry about that for another five years anyway,” he assured us.

  I watched her lick the dog spit off her back. “Where does the waste go that she collects along the way?” I asked.

  “I’ve designed an outlet. The capsule looks a lot like cat poop, so when she needs to release one, there’s never a problem. She just goes into the bathroom—”

  Vayl raised an eyebrow. “The cat is toilet trained?”

  “I thought that would be easiest. So you don’t have to deal with litter boxes when you’re traveling.”

  I sat back, eyeing my dog. His eyes were half closed, his tongue drooped in ecstasy under Cassandra’s head-scratchings. So watching his new friend turn to goo hadn’t traumatized him. I wondered what he’d do if she exploded.

  I said, “Bergman, you’re a genius.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Between the city of Canberra and the Space Complex that uses its name lies a depressed little burg called Wirdilling. We meant to reach it via Tourist Drive 5, which runs in a huge curvy loop past all kinds of camera-clicking stops. While taking photos would’ve been great for our cover—we didn’t. Because it was nearly four thirty in the afternoon, and if we wanted to make Wirdilling before midnight we all needed to preserve our energy on the excellent chance that we might have to shove our feet through the floorboards of the wreck Cole had rented and walk it there.

  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to find myself and Vayl squeezed into a 1980 powder-blue Leyland Mini Clubman with a dog, a robot, two irritated crew members and a bubble-blowing comedian. A shrunken station wagon that might’ve been made to seat five, but only if they were anorexic starlets, the Clubman was a four-speed brake-eater that tended to wheeze when we hit any grade steeper than two degrees. The rest of the time the engine rattled so loudly we had to shout to be heard. Which meant the car spent the majority of the drive through the tree-dotted hills that rolled down to Murrumbidgee River and up to the Tidbinbilla mountain range either gasping like a badly medicated asthmatic or roaring like a mean drunk.

  Normally I’d have babied the poor girl. After all, a car isn’t responsible for its renter. But ever since I’d given blood to save the life of a werewolf named Trayton, fires tended to break out when I got pissed. And if I didn’t find some outlet for the emotion making the skin around my eyes redden like stove burners, there was a good chance Cole’s gum would transform into lava. So I rode the gearshift like a crashing pilot, shoving it from third to fourth and back again way more
than I needed to, and shaking the steering wheel when I thought the Wheezer needed an extra push to make it up the next slope.

  “Jasmine?” Vayl murmured from the seat next to me, balancing his mug o’ packaged vamp-juice out in front of him to prevent spillage. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “I’ll be fine.” I glanced at him, allowing myself a second to appreciate his fedora. No man of this age can pull off the look the way an original can. Under the shadow of its brim his chemically darkened skin resisted the few waning rays of sun the Clubman’s tinted windows allowed in. I guess I could give Cole some credit for at least trying to protect Vayl that far. But geez!

  For the third time this trip I mentally replayed the scene in the funeral home’s plain, gray-walled garage. We’d stepped out of the hearse in the first of four bays, all of which led to a closed black door the size of a home-theater screen. I’d nodded appreciatively at the Jeep Patriot parked next to us. Painted a dark orange, it also glowed with flecks of gold and red to my extra-sensitized eyes.

  “Now, that is a machine,” I’d said, licking my lips to keep the drool from spilling over.

  “Isn’t she a beaut?” said Ruvin, running his hand along the side panel like it was a woman’s hip. “Sometimes I dream we’re walking on the beach together, just her and me. And she’s kinda wobbling ’cause she’s on her back tires. Then she looks at me. And squeezes my hand. And says, ‘Ruvin, only amateurs use the automatic wash.’ And I promise never to wipe her with an old rag.”

  We stared. Even me, and I’ve been known to dream about my Corvette from time to time. Ruvin pointed to a steel rod welded across the front of the grille. “Look here! Can you guess what this is?”

  I said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you were planning on busting through some fairly high snowdrifts.”

  “It’s a bull bar,” Ruvin told me. “Protects my ute in case I hit a roo.”

  “Roo? As in the kanga kind?” asked Cole.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Ruvin, here, says we don’t have to worry while we’re driving the Jeep because—”

  “Oh no.” Cole shook his head while Ruvin clutched at his heart, like maybe I’d just suggested we borrow his kids for a couple of days. “Ruvin’s not renting us his wheels. Our ride is parked in the third bay.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Mentally kissing the Jeep goodbye, I grabbed my trunk and weapons bag from the hearse’s storage compartment and skirted the Jeep. Where I stood gaping until Bergman bumped into me.

  “Is he serious?” Bergman whispered.

  “Where are we supposed to put all the extra equipment?” Cassandra asked.

  Since Wirdilling was a village of six hundred, we couldn’t just melt into the crowd. Especially when we were renting one of the local’s houses. So we’d decided to use a cover that always got us eager cooperation. It also required a few more bags.

  “Strap them to the top,” said Cole. He opened the trunk (no wonder they call it a boot here, it’s about the size of my foot!) and pulled out some tie-downs. “See? We’re prepared.”

  I didn’t realize I’d dropped my stuff and raised my hands to strangle him until Vayl pulled me aside. “Perhaps not in front of our driver?” he suggested.

  I turned to Ruvin, who’d helped Vayl bring over the last of the luggage. “So what do you think of all this?” I asked him brightly. My smile was faked, but not my interest. I couldn’t wait to hear what kind of bullshit story Cole had fed him.

  The little man grinned up at me, the gap between his front teeth so wide I could see what he’d eaten for lunch through it. “Aw, your boy Thor is brilliant, that’s all!” he said, his accent almost as thick as his ear hair. “How else’re you gonna get Gerard Butler into the country without tipping off the crazies, eh, mate?” He reached out and shook Vayl’s hand. “Loved you in 300. What a performance! You need anything at all, I’m your bloke. Don’t just drive the dead around all day, ya know. I’ve got my hand in lotsa kettles. Here, lemme give you my card.”

  While Cassandra and I traded Vayl-looks-nothing-like- Gerard eye rolls, Ruvin and my boss were playing tug-of-war with the dog-eared ID. “You can reach my wife, Tabitha, at the same number,” Ruvin was saying as he banged his blunt finger against it. “You should call her when you’re hiring, mate. She’s a genius with hair and makeup. Got her own shop in back of our house. You wouldn’t believe what she can do with the old cows who come in there!”

  Having been briefed on Ruvin’s connections to our target, Vayl dropped his arm to the man’s shoulder. “We will put her name at the top of the list. In the meantime, we have a project with which you could be very helpful.” He started to talk. But with me opening the hood, slamming it, and doing the same to all the doors as my rage began to build, he decided the deal might be made more smoothly if they moved to the other side of the hearse.

  “Hey, Lucille!” called Cole. “I think your dog needs to take a leak!”

  Since I’d failed to force any of the doors to fall off, I rounded the front of the car and snatched the keys from his hand on my way to the driver’s seat.

  “What?” he asked, his eyes showing more white than usual when he caught my expression. He and Jack exchanged wary glances.

  I said, “I’m driving. And I suggest you fasten your seat belt. Otherwise I’ll be tempted to roll this puppy just for the joy of seeing your head hit the ceiling.”

  “Lucille—”

  Cassandra pulled Bergman away from his attempt to stuff one last trunk into the back of the Clubman, and strode forward to yank Jack’s leash from Cole’s hand. “Miles and I will take him outside,” she said, giving us both her don’t-kill-each-other look.

  Cole came over to stand beside me. “Damn, woman, what’s gotten your panties in a bunch?”

  I waited until they’d cleared the garage. Then I lowered my voice anyway. Nobody, not even my boss, needed to hear what I was about to say. “You fucked with Vayl, you fucked with me, okay, we get it. You’re pissed that we’re a couple. This is your hilarious way of getting us back. Mission accomplished. But you know what? Nothing’s changed. We’re still together and you’ve taken it so far that now you just look like an ass. I tried to be gentle with you, because you’re one of the greatest guys I’ve ever met. But I swear, if you screw with me again I will take you down. Permanently.”

  I stopped. Ground my teeth together. Because behind my words I could hear another voice. Feeding me lines. Goddammit, this is worse than I thought!

  Cole shoved his hands in his pockets, his mouth twisted so oddly that it took me a second to realize he was frowning. “You and Vayl ended up with each other and didn’t even have the decency to buy me a stupid T-shirt. So I figured you’d at least see the humor—” He stopped. Shot his eyes to mine.

  “What?”

  He grabbed me by both shoulders. “Who’s in there with you?”

  Aargh! “I have no idea what you’re—”

  Cole’s eyes hardened, the flint in them so unexpected I forgot what I meant to say. “Don’t try to con me, Lucille. You may be the DeWALT of Sensitives, but I can smell other just like anybody else who’s died once already. And there’s two scents coming from you when I should only be getting that adrenaline punch that lifts me up on my toes every time I get a whiff of you.”

  Kill him! Now! Before he ruins everything! I’d actually slid my hand into my right pocket, wrapped it around the hilt of the knife my seamstress had cleverly hidden along the length of my thigh, before I realized what I was considering. I shoved my left hand into the opposite pocket and squeezed my fingers around the ring I carried there. It had always brought me comfort before. Now I wanted more.

  Matt, talk to me. Tell me what to do!

  But my fiancé’s voice had never joined the chorus in my head. When he’d died, he’d gone silent for good.

  The other voice knew exactly what to say. Tell him to back off! Your business is none of his! We’re doing fine all on our own. It felt like a fog, settling over my syna
pses, numbing them into immobility while it ate away at my independence.

  I grabbed Cole’s wrist. The contact helped me think a little more clearly. I forced the words past a sudden blockage in my throat. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been possessed. I don’t know how it happened. Maybe one of those Scidairan bitches hexed me during that big battle before we killed Samos last week. Don’t tell Vayl.”

  “You can’t seriously think you’re going to hide this from him?”

  I nodded, gritting my teeth at the thought of how mad he’d be if he ever found out. I said, “He wants a strong woman. Not some wimp who can’t even keep her own mind clear.”

  Do I really believe that? Vayl could be such a help in this—pain speared through the back of my right eyeball. Just as quickly it was gone, along with my train of thought.

  Cole glanced over his shoulder to make sure Vayl and Ruvin were still talking. They’d opened the passenger door of his Jeep, and Ruvin was sitting in the seat, showing off the interior while they chatted.

  Cole murmured, “I don’t think you have any idea what he wants from a woman or why he picked you. You’re just making stuff up as you go instead of checking the source.”

  “I don’t want to lose him!”

  “And you think this is a deal breaker?”

  My eye began to throb again. I rubbed at it. “Yes.” The ache vanished.

  He shook his head and sighed. “How are you going to keep him from figuring it out? I mean, it helped that I’m a Sensitive. But what tipped me off to start with was the fact that you were acting weird.”

  “Sex.”

  “Seriously?”

  I shrugged. “He can’t suspect much if every time we’re alone instead of talking I have my way with him.” Cole shook his head. “You don’t think it’ll work?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “Vayl might be a vampire, but he’s also a guy. Who’s about to be deliriously happy. Good God, if you work this right, he won’t even be mad if he finds out because of the way you decided to hide it from him.”