Bite Marks

by Jennifer Rardin

  I’d been shopping with my sister, Evie, enough to recognize that weighing-her-options look on Kyphas’s face. Clearly she thought Vayl had offered her a bargain. Get out before further beatings could occur. On the other hand… She shook her head. “I will be back. With allies. And when we come for her, we will be taking the rest of you with us.” She grinned, the curves of her face so perfect that her image would’ve made sculptors weep. Then she turned and ran into the night, her demonic strength taking her out of our vision almost instantly.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Because the blessings still lingered inside the house, we sat in the backyard, which had been fenced for privacy. Not that anybody lived close enough to wonder about the havoc we’d just caused. We’d chosen Wirdilling’s Hermit Special for a reason. But still, the tall wooden fence. Either the owners like to sunbathe in the nude—doubtful considering how stinking hot it got in the summer—or they figured the fence was a good way to pen their kids in. Considering the wide array of rec equipment dotted around the lawn, including a swing set, a play place with more ladders than slides, and a plastic barn sheltering a trough full of sand, I was voting for use number two.

  It seemed ironic to me that the six of us sat around a glass table on comfy woven lawn chairs gazing out onto a patch of grass that Jack was spending equal time sniffing and chewing, while Astral reigned quietly from her perch atop the clothesline pole. We might’ve been preparing to enjoy some shrimp on the barbie. Except the freshly grilled scent was coming off our vamp.

  He sat at one end of the table, a towel stuffed against his wound, listening tiredly to Cole, who lounged at the other end bitching about being shanghaied. “You could’ve at least asked us if we wanted to be in your Trust before you made some big public announcement! Now we’re committed. My mom’s going to be so pissed.”

  “Must you tell her?” Vayl inquired.

  “I tell her everything.”

  Bergman, stuck in the middle next to Cassandra and opposite Raoul and me, gaped at him. “She knows you’re a CIA assassin?”

  “Well, I might’ve left that part out.”

  Vayl checked the towel, decided it wasn’t necessary anymore, folded it neatly, and tucked it under his chair. “Then she need not know this small detail of your life either.”

  “Small! Dude, Pete made us all read Jaz’s report on your mission to Greece. Trusts are freaking weird!”

  “No, Disa’s Trust was strange.” Vayl paused to think. “All right, in all probability most Vampere Trusts are somewhat bizarre. They are populated by vampires and their human guardians after all. But ours need not be like that. In fact, it is more a technicality anyway. Something I arranged to protect you all within the world in which I walk.”

  We stared. Okay, most of us gaped. Because we kept forgetting he wasn’t like us. He’d been around way before you could drive to the hospital to give birth in antiseptic surroundings, aided by a guy with more education than most of the people you knew. He’d been born in a time when women routinely died in childbirth, just like his mom had. And he’d lived to see a day when we’d be shocked to hear of anything close to that. But he’d had to give up the sun, and maybe his soul, to do it.

  “Why do we need protection?” I asked. As his avhar, I was the one who’d always get the honest answer. But within a Trust I wasn’t sure what he, as my sverhamin, might require of me. It would be nice to know.

  He picked a spot beyond the fence and focused on it, like he could see whole universes moving between the trees. “You understand your own world is not singular. Simply from the perspective of culture, religion, work, hobbies, you move within several different spheres, some of which never touch. Others like me live in your world, but still we are citizens of the Whence, which operates next to your realm, but only sometimes within it. In the Whence, I am Vampere, therefore I am expected to either declare myself Rogue, or stake a territory and create a Trust.”

  “Wait a second.” Cole held up his hand. “We’ve got nests all over America and none of them use those names.”

  “No,” Vayl agreed, dropping his eyes to meet Cole’s. “But then, they are not Vampere.”

  “You mean… there’s another race of vampires?”

  “Of course. As you are American and I am Romanian. Or, perhaps more technically correct, as Jasmine is of European descent and Cassandra places her roots in northern Africa. The Vampere hail from a single mother. The Flock from one father.”

  “Now I’m confused,” I said. “Only a few of the biggest West Coast nests call themselves the Flock. The rest use other identifiers.”

  Vayl nodded. “The Flock is what you would call the central government for those who descend from the Father.”

  “So the loners and the smaller gangs…” said Cole.

  “Most are still members of the Flock,” Vayl confirmed. “Some maintain independence, of course, as do the Rogues across the ocean. It is, as with anything involving more than a few beings, rather complicated.”

  “What’s the difference?” I asked. Looking at it from a purely professional point of view, I hadn’t seen much. I’d killed vamps within the Flock and the Vampere. They all went smoky in the end.

  Vayl said, “Beyond what I have outlined, the main distinction between our two cultures lies in the way we turn our chosen ones. As you know, the Vampere take approximately a year. If we rush the process, we risk our own doom. The Flock have found a way to fly over that obstacle. Their turnings nearly always occur the night of the first bite.”

  “Seems to me like there’d be a lot more of them than you with that kind of advantage,” said Cole.

  “You would think so.” The glitter in Vayl’s eyes said otherwise.

  Cole licked his lips. “So what group do you fall into now?”

  “I have been Rogue since I left the Trust in Greece. But once Jasmine became my avhar and I her sverhamin, both our status and her vulnerability within the Whence increased. So now I have declared us a Trust.”

  “Because Jaz is at risk,” Bergman said, as usual cutting to the heart of the matter. “Why?”

  Vayl stretched his legs forward until his calves brushed my shins. I kept my eyes on my clasped hands, but I knew he felt the heat rise in my chest as I recalled how he loved to tangle his legs with mine, how he said the smoothness of my skin against his felt better than silk.

  I dug my nails into my hands, forcing my mind to follow his words as he said, “Such a partnership is rare for vampires. The bonds that are forged can never be fully broken. And as time passes, the couple begins to form a deep and complex relationship that becomes the envy of their peers. The last to do so successfully—” Vayl pressed his lips together in almost a full grimace.

  “What?” I asked. “You can’t just stop in the middle like that!”

  His eyes, so dark they had no color, revealed thoughts I could only guess at. “Her name was Nylla, and she had been turned in the time of Napoleon. She found her avhar dying of starvation in a POW camp during the Civil War.” He stopped again.

  I was so proud I didn’t kick him I promised myself ice cream at the next opportunity. Gritting my teeth I said, “Go on.”

  “Like me, she hoped for… something beyond mere experience. I suppose in Tobias she sought”—he shrugged and shook his head—“the missing piece. The bit that should have prevented her from letting her soul slip to begin with.”

  “Did she find it?” asked Cassandra.

  He nodded. “They both discovered something… new. Something beyond humanity. And yet not Vampere. Because Tobias stopped aging, but he continued to walk in the light. And Nylla ceased hunting, but she did not wither. Eventually they disappeared, as have all successful pairs before them. But their story remains, giving the rest of us”—his eyes touched mine—“hope.”

  “That explains a lot,” said Bergman. “But it still doesn’t answer my question.”

  Vayl’s upper lip lifted. In him it was nearly a snarl. His need to avoid the subject made me want
to know. “Tell the man,” I demanded.

  He couldn’t play politician now that I’d put in the request. His eyes bored into mine as he said, “If, for instance, an avhar were to be snatched out of her bed by enemies of her sverhamin. If they were to take her to a dark room, bleed her for days, and then call her sverhamin and make certain demands in return for her safe homecoming, they would have him at their mercy. Because they could be assured he would do anything to get her back. And I do mean anything. I could tell you stories. Perhaps I should. Once a vampire named Henri—”

  I didn’t want to hear. So I interrupted, saying, “Vayl. We don’t negotiate with—”

  He waved away my policy-book quote with an impatient hand. “Do you think I would give a rat’s damn about procedure if I heard you screaming at the other end of the phone?”

  I bit my bottom lip, not sure how to reply. It was Bergman who asked, “And a Trust protects Jaz from this? How?”

  “It brings the power of the Whence onto our side. As a Rogue couple she and I had few rights. But as members of a Trust we are much better armored. Those who would not have hesitated to move against us before will seek easier prey now rather than risk the ire of the Prevailers.” When he saw our puzzled expressions he explained, “The Prevailers are a group of thirteen Elders who rule the Whence.”

  Good to know.

  He pulled his legs back, sat up straighter. “At any rate, Jasmine is safer within the Whence if she can call upon the protection of a Trust. So I began to consider creating one. With the advent of such an excellent circle of work partners, I made the decision to formalize the proceeding.”

  “You formalized—without asking any of us?” Cole demanded.

  “Why would I do that?” Vayl asked mildly. “It was only a paper organization. Something never meant to touch your world.”

  Cole rolled his eyes toward me like, Come on, Jaz, jump in! Why aren’t you as pissed about this as I am? And I was, kinda. Except I had a bigger secret than Vayl’s, so the guilt was outweighing the outrage.

  This is a bad way to begin a relationship, said Granny May. She’d dumped the rocker and decided to water the plants that lined her front porch rail. Why don’t you just insult all his relatives while you’re at it?

  Reluctantly, I said, “Uh, so if we do have to take this off paper, you know, into the real world? This will be a democratic organization. Right?”

  Vayl nodded slowly. “As long as you all understand that I would be the president.”

  I looked at Cole. “Can you deal with that? Theoretically?”

  Cole blew a bubble, making me wonder where he’d found black gum and if it tasted like the same color jelly beans. After it popped and he retrieved it he said, “Only if I can be Secretary of Social Events.”

  Before I could point out that no cabinet in the world carried that position, Vayl said, “Done.” Cole nodded with satisfaction.

  Hey, maybe I should invent myself a cool new office too.

  While I pondered the possibilities Raoul said, “As long as we are avoiding the subject we should really be discussing, I’d like to know why Jack keeps looking at me like that.” He sent a curious glance at my dog, who’d trotted back to the table and commandeered a spot between Vayl and me. He panted as he pointed his ears toward my Spirit Guide.

  I said, “He thinks you might have a T-bone hidden under that nifty camo jacket of yours. Which looks fresh as a sheltered young virgin, by the way. Don’t you ever sweat?”

  Raoul chose to ignore me as he leaned over to pet the dog. “Don’t let her teach you bad words,” he said.

  “It’s too late,” I snapped. “He swears like a drunken sailor.”

  “How do you know how much drunken sailors swear?” asked Vayl, one brow lowering. Not in jealousy. He knew I wouldn’t waste time with anybody who couldn’t walk a straight line. Nope, that expression meant pain, and when I looked I could see his wound was still seeping.

  His refusal to sustain himself on fresh blood usually increased my respect for him. Except for now, when his slow heal made me think it was the stupidest damn decision he’d ever made. Especially when all he had to do was put his name on a list and willing donors would line up at his door like Black Friday shoppers.

  “Jasmine!” Vayl reached over to shake my arm.

  “What?”

  “Your focus seems to have shifted.”

  “Oh yeah, um, drunken sailors. Well, my dad was a Marine you know. He knew guys.”

  Cassandra scooted her chair back, causing it to screech along the patio’s surface like a mom who’s had just about enough of her kids’ bratty behavior. We turned to her.

  “Did you have something you wanted to say?” asked Vayl.

  She nodded graciously. “Yes.” She looked Raoul straight in the eye. “I know I couldn’t have made a worse mistake. But I’ve spent the past five hundred years living the best life I knew how in hopes that it would be enough to save me.” She gulped a little before asking, “Was it?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been allowed to come, so you could take that as a good sign. Or maybe someone with more clout than me just wants to make sure Jasmine doesn’t die again.”

  “Why?” asked Vayl, his voice deepening. “What happens if she is killed?”

  Raoul stopped petting Jack and sat up. He avoided my eyes when he spoke, choosing instead to stare straight into Vayl’s. “The human body can only bear so much, even when it has been enhanced to recover from the terrible damage death deals, as I have done for Jasmine twice already. Which is why the next time she dies—she won’t be able to come back.”

  Cole sat forward so fast his chest hit the table with a low thud that made us all stare at him. “So you’re saying she’ll be like you? Just spirit material?”

  Raoul shrugged. “It’s a little more complicated than that. Sometimes—like now—I can take physical form. But I’m limited by my own strength as to how long the form lasts.” He looked at me then, so I stopped biting my lip, unclenched my fists, and made myself breathe. No sense in showing how deep his little info-bomb had just torn into me. He said, “In my penthouse, when I’m visiting with you, I can take on an even more solid body. But in the place where I fight other sorts of creatures, where I spend most of my time, in fact, physical form is a hindrance.”

  Silence, deep and shocked, like when people have really heard about a death. Bergman spoke first. “Will she live longer, though? With that enhancement you said you gave her?”

  Raoul made that somebody’s-just-kicked-me-under-the-table face. “I would say yes. She has the potential to live longer than Cassandra. But her chosen lifestyle deeply cuts her odds.”

  Vayl and I locked gazes. Think of it! his eyes told me. What I have dreamed of! We could gain eternity together, and you would not even have to turn.

  I tried to send his hopes back to him. It would, after all, be amazing. But I could barely see past tonight. Not with Kyphas lusting after our souls and some asswipe entity already in possession of a chunk of mine.

  When his brows dropped I looked away. Goddammit, I’m supposed to be the Sensitive here!

  “That could be good,” Bergman put in, drawing my eyes from Vayl’s. “Think about it, Jaz. If you and Vayl joined up with me and Natch, you could pick your jobs. Less risk. More chance of that thousand-year mark.”

  “What is he talking about?” asked Vayl.

  “Yeah, what’s the—” Cole began.

  “When did you become a salesman?” I interrupted, hoping to shut Cole down before the discussion got ugly. “I never should’ve introduced you to Dave’s unit. Ever since you hung with those Spec Ops studs you’ve gotten way too big for your shoe box.”

  Leave it to the skinny sucker to grin while Vayl repeated his question. Bergman had just begun to explain his offer and the reason Cole wasn’t included—“You just started a new job. No way have you got any money to invest”—when Cassandra stood.

  “I have to use the bathroom.” She raised her eyebrows at me.r />
  What? Oh, are we doing that girls-gang-up-in-the-can thing?

  I rose. “Me too.”

  “Have fun, ladies!” Cole took my chair and scooted it right next to Raoul’s. “So, I was wondering if we could make a deal,” he began as we moved away from the table. “How do you feel about kangaroos?”

  I looked back at Vayl, but he was immersed in Bergman’s pitch. Jack thought I needed company, though. He got up and padded after me. Even Astral decided we must be up to something interesting. Avoiding the dog, she ran ahead of Cassandra, somehow guessing to turn down the hall and slide through the doorway opposite my bedroom. She was waiting on the window ledge of the white-tiled, chrome-accessorized bathroom when we finally stepped inside.

  Cassandra slid open the navy-blue shower curtain, turned the tub and sink faucets on full blast before taking a seat on the toilet. It had a squishy white lid, so she slowly sank to its base while the animals rearranged. Astral jumped onto Cassandra’s lap. Jack settled down beside me where I stood beside the tub, staring at the towels hanging from round silver rings mounted on the wall. The towels’ multicolored bubbles looked so real, I wanted to poke them to see if they’d actually pop.

  She said, “I don’t think Vayl can hear us now, even if he’s trying.” She held up her hand, as if she knew I wanted to protest. Which, of course, I did. When our eyes met I realized we’d reached a new cut-the-bullshit level of understanding. Refreshing. Scary. And weird, because if she went on to join my family she’d be the first relation I ever felt I could really be honest with.

  “When I touched you I sensed another presence.” She shuddered. “I don’t know how such malevolence found its way past your defenses, but we have to get it out of you. You can’t imagine how much it’s already controlling you.”