Bite Marks

by Jennifer Rardin

  I shrugged. “Lots of fake concrete just going to waste in the corner?”

  He blew his breath out his nose. “Hardly. Where is your mind today?”

  “Seriously? After flying forever, fighting a demon, not to mention the Domytr snapping up my synapses, you have to ask?”

  “You could at least try.”

  Shit. I looked around. “I don’t know, okay? The basement door is the only way in where they wouldn’t be seen, and it’s obviously solid as a—” I kicked at the door as I said, “brick.” But my heel didn’t contact wood, sending a shiver up the bone of my leg as expected. Instead it shoved completely through.

  Because the gnomes had pulled off another illusion.

  The original door had been removed and replaced by Paint plants. Those wizards of horticulture had created this ivy sometime in the sixteenth century. And since then all they’d done was improve it to the point that it came in every known color, its needlelike leaves laying so flat they were easily confused with the grain of wood. As shown by the door, it could be grown quickly and trained into any position, so even up close it resembled whatever the gardener desired.

  I pulled my foot out. Big, noticeable dent, though I could already see leaves unbending. Funky.

  “You know, someday you’re going to throw a kick like that and something’s going to bite your foot off,” Bergman said.

  “Could be,” I replied. “Or maybe I’ll knock something out before it has a chance to eat my face off.”

  “Save the debate for later,” Vayl said. “They should have left a panel for ingress and egress. Jasmine, please check.”

  “Sure.” I let loose with another kick, this one at about knee height. A door big enough for Jack to jump through popped open. I looked over my shoulder at Vayl.

  “You guard the rear,” he said. “We must keep Cassandra and Bergman between us at all times.” So that if one of us is wounded, his eyes added, they will at least stand a chance of escaping.

  I nodded and drew my Walther PPK. As always, Bergman smiled when he saw it. He was the one who’d engineered it to transform into a crossbow, so I understood the pride in his eyes. But when the quick grin disappeared, I knew he’d just realized why I might need it.

  Our reconnaissance took ten minutes. The basement had been emptied when the school was closed, and the Space Station hadn’t yet filled it. Up top, the building held eight former classrooms that had been remodeled into apartments, each with its own bath and kitchenette. We marked the access points for each room and developed at least three escape plans. Then we reconvened at the door to N’Paltick.

  Vayl and I stood in silent contemplation while Cassandra and Bergman huddled in the corner with the animals.

  Glancing at them I said, more for their benefit than ours, “We’ll have to take them all with us. Too risky to leave them here with the demon due back anytime now.”

  Vayl eyed our companions. The crook of his right brow demonstrated his concern. It wasn’t necessarily that they’d get in the way. Just that they might do something stupid without even realizing it and get us all killed. Or worse, made into hors d’oeuvres.

  “Stay between us,” he told them. “Follow our orders precisely as given. This is no time to think independently, despite your obvious qualities in that area.”

  They nodded like a couple of little kids who’ve just learned they get to go into the haunted house at the fair, and they can’t figure out if they’re thrilled or terrified.

  “Astral,” I said. “Jump up here.” I clapped my hands and she leaped into my arms.

  Cool! If I decide to try a second career, robokitty and I can develop a Vegas act.

  I walked over to the doorway. “Scout ahead.” I threw her through the portal, wondering how far she’d fall before landing, and if she’d plummet so long even her programming would fail and she’d splat into a thousand pieces.

  Bergman must’ve been thinking along the same lines. Because his squeal of protest reminded me of that time in college when I’d accidentally eaten his ChemGen project. Luckily he hadn’t been studying ways to make botulism more lethal. He’d just been trying to come up with a tastier, less fattening form of peanut butter.

  After waiting half a minute for the dust to clear, I said, “She’s in a tunnel the size of a large culvert. The picture’s coming in green, so it’s not lit.”

  Vayl nodded. He didn’t seem surprised. Which disappointed me. In fact, I realized it had become a challenge to raise his eyebrow, even a tick. You gotta figure a guy who’s been around nearly three centuries is going to be hard to jolt. So when you do… score!

  He said, “Get ready to crawl. Bergman? Cassandra? Keep one hand on the leg of the person in front of you at all times. Speak only when necessary, and then in whispers.”

  “What if we need a quick getaway?” asked Bergman.

  “I doubt that will be possible,” said Vayl. “If violence is called for we must be swift and certain. We cannot afford wavering,” he said sternly, staring at Cassandra.

  “Why are you looking at me?” she asked. “I can fight.”

  “You are the sweetest soul among us.”

  “Which is probably why Kyphas wants you so bad,” said Bergman. He meant to be generous, I know, but his reward was a slap on the arm from me and a hail of frowns and shushes from everyone else. Even Jack turned his back on him. “What did I say?”

  “Her name, dude.” I rubbed the back of my neck, like she was already out there, aiming some devilish weapon at us. Standing on tiptoe so I could see over the wall of the basement steps to make sure the coast was still clear, I said, “It’s almost like you’re summoning her when you say it out loud. She can hear it from anywhere. Right now she knows you’ve said it and, if she cares to look, she can see what spot you were standing in when you said it. So don’t say it.”

  “Look? Into what? She’s got a crystal ball?”

  I sighed. Why hadn’t our consultant taken just one Basic Paranormality class? “Do you give off heat?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then all she has to do is look into something else that gives off heat. And assuming she’s scouting hell for allies, it shouldn’t be too tough to find a lava pit to squint into, now, should it?”

  “Oh.”

  Geniuses! They’re so great for the go-boom and the wireless yapping. But ask them one question about others and their brains turn to mud! I was about to let Bergman know exactly what I thought about the gap in his education when a new picture rose in front of my eyes. And I decided his positives might just outweigh his negatives. Astral was turning out to be real helpful.

  I turned to Vayl. “The cat found a crossroads guarded by a gnome. He’s alert.” And wearing a spiffy blue uniform that includes a tail ribbon. Since when are gnomes into insignia and brass? And, I felt myself frowning, guns?

  “He’s armed too,” I said. “It looks like the same kind of air-powered rifle we’ve seen most of the other burrow dwellers opt for.”

  Vayl inclined his head. “Then it is time to prepare.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  As if we stood on a table spun by the same gears, Vayl and I both swiveled toward Cassandra. She looked from me to Vayl and back again. “Was there something—” She motioned toward the notcrete wall. “Do you want me to go first or…”

  “We just assumed you understood how gnomes function,” I said.

  She shook her head. “My area of expertise is in ancient languages and religions. And the gnomes have been around as long as my people, but they wrote nothing down about their god. And since their history is an oral one that they share only among themselves, I haven’t studied them at all.”

  I nodded. “All we really know is what we get from the outcasts who manage to escape before the community finds a way to sacrifice them. The gnomes call them kimfs and blow snot out one side of their noses after they say the word.”

  “No.”

  “I shit you not.”

  Cassandra shook her
head. “So hypocritical.”

  “Yuh-huh. Anyhow, what you also didn’t realize is that gnomes only see a little better than moles. Some of our analysts think they’ve spent too much time belowground. Some suggest it’s a genetic malformation of the eye that could be corrected with surgery, or maybe even glasses. What matters to us is that if our little project here is successful, they won’t be able to retaliate if they see us, because we all pretty much look the same to them. Like we’ve all pulled stockings over our faces so the only details they pick up are eyeholes and nose bumps. But if they get a whiff of us they can follow us clear across the continent. Because their sense of smell is almost as good as a bloodhound’s.”

  “So”—Vayl nodded at her bag—“what have you got in there to help us out?”

  “Why do you assume I’m carrying scent around with me?” Cassandra asked, somewhat defensively.

  Vayl’s lip quirked. “Come now, Cassandra. I have seen you pull a tire patch kit from your purse. Anyone that prepared is bound to have thrown in a supply of her favorite perfume.”

  She did a little sideways head bob, the kind you see on people who hate to admit they’ve just been caught in their own little obsession. She unsnapped the furbag and began rummaging around. “There’s nothing wrong with carrying backup supplies, you know. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve saved myself a trip to the store… Oh, here we go.”

  She pulled out a bottle of Febreze.

  Bergman took it from her hand and read the label. “Meadows & Rain.” He glanced at her as he spun the sprayer to on and did an experimental squeeze-’n’-sniff. “Not bad. Not my Axe, but fresh.”

  Cassandra resettled her straps on her shoulders and threw up her hands. “I know it’s strange, but right before David deployed, he asked me to bring him something that smelled like home, because he wanted to feel like he was with me while he was away. And this is what I use on my curtains between cleanings. So I gave him a bottle to keep, and then I have this one to remind me that he’s smelling the same scent wherever he is.” She touched the blue plastic with an affectionate finger. “It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

  “Yeah.” Bergman nodded. “It does.”

  I gave him a little shove. “I can’t wait until you fall in love. You are going to act like the biggest dork, and we’re all going to make unmerciful fun of you.”

  To my surprise he grinned and said, “Okay.”

  We took turns spraying each other. By the time we were done, all of us, including Jack, smelled like a feminine-hygiene commercial.

  “Hurry up and get in there,” I told my boss, giving his cane a nudge with my toe to encourage forward movement. “Or else you’re going to have to braid my hair while we watch Bergman and Cassandra cavort around in a field full of flowers.”

  “At least Jack is not trying to make love to your leg,” Vayl said.

  “I can’t believe you brought that up.” I glared at Bergman. “I still haven’t forgiven you for drenching me in dog pheromones, by the way. So just watch your step inside. This could be the perfect setup for my revenge.”

  “Hey, it worked out great!” Bergman squeaked. “You got a new best friend out of the deal!”

  I looked down at my dog, who smiled up at me, his days as the pet of an international criminal mastermind a distant memory. “You are pretty cool,” I told him. “But we’re about to go into a bad place. So behave yourself, all right?” He bumped his nose into my leg, his substitute for a reassuring pat.

  I took a better grip on his leash as we watched Vayl squeeze past the wiggly gray tunnel cover. Bergman and Cassandra followed, with me and Jack bringing up the rear. No way could I crawl through the gently sloping passageway while holding a gun, so I reholstered Grief. Its weight didn’t provide the usual reassurance. Because according to Astral’s video, the path opened at the crossroads, so Vayl would have to deal with the guard alone.

  He’ll be fine.

  My body, bent abnormally by the low ceiling, disagreed. It was like my aching back, my stiff neck, even my chafed knees, knew this setup sucked. But my mind kept fighting it.

  He’s a vampire. What could go wrong?

  Shut up, Brude!

  Now what? I am trying to comfort you! Is that not what every good king does for his—

  Knock it off! I took a deep breath. Wiped the sweat off my upper lip. Vayl’s not going to get his head blown off. And I won’t be buried under tons of earth. The ceiling’s in great shape. It’s probably held up for a hundred years.

  On the other hand… Fuck you, Pete! My next job had better be in the great wide open or, I swear, I’m gonna pull out your two remaining hairs and staple them to your ears!

  I took another breath. Realized I wasn’t going to panic, and felt myself relax. Slightly. Although I understood at some level that if I heard one sound that remotely reminded me of an earthquake I could well bolt, leaving all my friends to fend for themselves.

  Wuss.

  Deciding to deal with my neuroses later, I concentrated on Astral’s video feed. Saw the guard sniff the air, and take a second snort. Just as I realized he’d interpreted our Febreze for the intrusion it was, he drew the weapon he’d kept holstered at his side. Though it looked a lot like a sawed-off shotgun, I knew it worked on totally different principles.

  People who live underground don’t like to make big bangs that could cause cave-ins. This gun, powered by air compressed and heated by the breath of his shaman, scattered polished granite shot in a broad pattern that allowed even the most myopic shooters to hit their targets.

  “Vayl! He’s onto us!”

  “Take cover!” Vayl ordered.

  Bergman and Cassandra went flat.

  “Astral!” I called as I drew Grief. “Go for that guard’s moving arm!”

  As Vayl lunged forward, trying to clear the tunnel before the guard could squeeze one off, I struggled to advance over my friends without crushing vital organs. Not easy when most of your vision is concentrated on robokitty’s attack. My eyes had such a hard time following her speed that my stomach lurched in protest.

  Astral hit the guard just before he pulled the trigger. She snarled just like a real cat and sank every one of her claws through the cloth of his sleeve. He yelled in protest as his arm wavered, the shot went wide, and Vayl emerged from the tunnel, a visible cloud streaming from his shoulders as he dropped the room’s temperature enough to make the guard’s tail shiver and his teeth clack.

  “Stay here or you’re gonna get frostbite,” I told my crew as I left the tunnel, Jack bounding after me. As a Sensitive I can take Vayl’s hits without icicles encasing my curls. And my malamute was made for cold weather.

  Vayl grabbed the guard by his lapels with one hand while he knocked the gun to the floor with the other. In a move even quicker than Astral’s he jerked the guard’s head to one side, baring his neck. One bite, one push of power, and his victim’s blood froze.

  Vayl let the body fall. His grin, full-fanged and bloody, pulled a similar response from me. He stepped toward me, his power so full I could feel it rubbing between us like cool satin on hot skin. The scrape of boots on the floor made me spin around. Bergman and Cassandra had crawled out of the tunnel. I turned back to Vayl.

  In that moment he’d pulled it all back, his jaw clenched so hard I was surprised it didn’t break. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “I will discover where this right-hand passage leads.”

  “Oh. That—yeah. We’ll wait here.” I watched him go while Astral circled the chamber, awaiting new orders.

  “That was… scary,” said Bergman, pointing to the guard’s throat.

  “He’s an assassin. What did you expect?” I asked. I realized I was petting Jack, and not because he needed it. I stopped.

  Bergman shrugged. “One shot through the forehead with a gun.”

  “You watch too much TV.”

  “Why do you keep looking after him?” he asked, jerking his thumb toward the tunnel Vayl had taken. “Is he abo
ut to get into more trouble?”

  I sighed and met Bergman’s gaze. “No, I was just wondering.”

  “Wondering what?”

  Should I explain? This guy wanted to partner with me. Which meant maybe he should know. Especially if it would back him off of a deal that might not be that great for his health. I pointed at the corpse. “What do you see?”

  “A dead guy.”

  “What else?”

  He looked closer. So did Cassandra. It was like they thought I’d asked them to solve a puzzle. He said, “Nice, clean uniform that makes him seem like he’s about to march in a parade. Shiny shoes. Well-maintained weapon. No rings, so I guess he was single.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what else.”

  I said, “He was alive a few seconds ago. Breathing. Thinking. Trying to make us dead. But we won. We put him down, for good. Vayl and I, we’re not right, Bergman. After a kill we don’t stand around and analyze the remains like you just did. We jubilate. You get it? Inside, we’re freaking high. Because we took that evil spark and crushed it. Just like God.”

  When he began to look a little sick I realized he’d begun to understand. I said, “That’s why he had to leave. So you wouldn’t see us—like that. So he could remind himself he’s not even close to God. More the opposite.”

  Which was why he needed me. And why I needed my old buddy Miles. Not to mention my new pal Cassandra.

  Huh.

  Funny what you discover after a kill.

  While we waited for Vayl to come down from the rush, I went through the guard’s pockets. Found some dice, a wad of bills to prove they were loaded, a dirty handkerchief—“Catch, Bergman!”

  He dodged it. “Gross!”

  Chuckling, I continued my search. Nothing else in the pockets. Around the neck an amulet with the image of Ufran on one side and a star on the other. I took it.

  “That seems a little sacrilegious,” Cassandra protested.

  “It’s because of their religion that we’re here,” I reminded her. “Besides, we know a lot of these are used as hides for important papers.” I tossed it to Bergman. “See if you can find a latch.”