While the conscious part of me saw Laal pause in his Jack-petting to get a reassuring nod from his dad while Pajo tucked his head into Vayl’s chest, my inner librarian said, You have less than twenty-four hours to complete this mission. If you don’t succeed, people are going to die. You might blame it on an evil, no-faced gnome. But you know it will be partly your fault. She jotted the info on an index card and filed it neatly in a drawer the length of a tractor trailer.
Where have you been? I demanded. Granny May could’ve used backup when Brude was doing his mental manipulations before, you know.
She sniffed and shut the drawer. I’ve been organizing.
That’s no help!
She raised a slender eyebrow at me and tucked a stray curl into her French twist. You’d be surprised. For instance, right now I’m compiling a list of every item you’ve ever heard, read, or learned about the Thin. If Brude wants to create a new hell based there, maybe something you know can alter his plans. That might send him spinning out of your head. Alternatively, knowing more about his species might help. You have no innate knowledge, so I suggest a session with Astral or, perhaps, Raoul.
You know, for a brainiac, you’re not half bad. Just don’t let Brude know what you’re up to.
Robert, that.
Um, it’s Roger.
Oh. Sorry.
Well, it looks as if you are marshaling your forces. Brude strode to the forefront of my mind, grabbing me so firmly by the intellect that I froze in place. It will not work, my Jasmine. You must understand, I am here for you. And also for what you can do for me.
What do you mean?
I already told you I never do anything for a single reason. So I slipped into your mind, which is—he looked around and licked his lips—nearly as delectable as your body. Because I promised to make you my queen, did I not? But you never asked why. Why you?
He wants to transform the Thin into a chaotic realm and destroy hell, my librarian reminded me.
Granny May rose from her front porch rocker. But he’ll never do that without a massive army to fight Lucifer’s hordes.
Where’s he gonna get that many lost souls? wondered Teen Me as she sat on the ledge, dangling one leg over while she leafed through one of Granny May’s comic books.
“From me,” I whispered.
Bergman had leaned across the table, his hands inches from mine like he thought I might need to be pulled from the brink of something anytime now. “What are you saying?” he asked.
I couldn’t look at him. My eyes, glued to the covered barbecue, only saw my inner visions. Vayl stirred in his seat, gently lifting Pajo from his lap. “May I suggest that you take your parents inside?” he told the little boy. “Perhaps Jack will accompany you as well. Then you and Laal can play with him while Mum and Dad decide what to do next.”
Murmurs of agreement from the parents. The shoosh-snick of sliding-glass doors opening and closing. I forced the words through a throat so suddenly parched it felt like it was lined with sand-paper. “Brude knows who I am. He believes if he can subvert my missions, he can cause just the kind of death toll he needs to build up his forces. And what better way to do that than from inside my head?” I felt my lips cracking. Next would come the blood. I turned to Vayl. “I have to withdraw from this assignment. I need to take a leave of absence.”
“Absolutely not,” he said. “You and I are a formidable team. If they separate us—they win.”
“But… Vayl… the son of a bitch is in my mind. He can make me—do things. What if—”
Vayl leaned forward. Not much. Just the fraction it took to capture my attention. Something about the intensity in his bright blue eyes demanded that I listen, not just to his words, but to the things he couldn’t say. Because Brude would overhear. “We will beat him. That is what you and I do, my pretera. We win. Together.”
His touch, just a whisper of fingertips grazing my thigh, spelled out a sign we used for face-to-face attacks. I was so distracted by the zap of awareness his fingers raised, followed by an unbearable need to scratch, that I nearly missed the message. You go in loud and annoying. I will slide in under the radar to make the kill.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
He caught me in his gaze, stared at me hard like I should be able to read his mind. Geez, Cassandra, I wish you were here right this second so I could slap your hand on his and get a freaking clue!
He whispered, “Trust me.”
Aw, shit.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
We joined Ruvin in the living room. He shook everyone’s hand with a grip so firm I know my fingers tingled afterward. “We just can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for us. You Hollywood types are so gifted! I wish I had half the talent!” He nodded toward the bedroom. “Tabitha thought it would be better for the boys if we talked privately.”
We’d all had enough of sitting. We wanted to run off in twelve different directions. Find the Rocenz. Continue discrediting the shaman. Destroy the larvae carriers. Demon-proof the house. But it seemed rude to tower over the little man, so we all sat. Vayl and I took the couch. Bergman sank into a chair. Jack lay at my feet, watching Miles tinker with Astral. He’d gotten her head reconnected, which Jack must’ve deduced was a good thing, because he kept flopping his tail against the floor hopefully.
Ruvin stood beside Miles, his eyes occasionally cutting to the intricate operation-in-progress as he spoke. “Again, I can’t thank you enough for getting my family out of the shit. And, um, sorry about the quick exit before. To be honest, we’re on something of a schedule. We are seinji, and it’s just our luck that this is the week of the year when she’s most likely to conceive…” His ears went bright red as he grinned down at his feet.
Collective “Ahhh” of understanding from our group as we realized why Tabitha had chosen an oooh-baby dress for a Wednesday evening when her hubby wasn’t even supposed to get home until the pubs had long been closed. It also explained why she’d kept checking her watch and pacing. Seinji find it tough to bear children, which is why their physicians are among the top experts in the field of infertility. They combine cutting-edge science with some of the most off-the-wall rites in the world. Common practices included hanging upside down from a tree limb for three hours after sex and writing suggestive fan letters to the cast members of Willow. And if anyone questioned their approach, all they had to do was pull out the studies that proved their birthrate had risen by thirty percent in the past twenty years.
“So, ah, we need to get rolling,” said Ruvin. “If Tabitha doesn’t have a bowl of Yabbie Chowder within the next two hours we’re doomed.”
“You know the gnomes are going to try to get her back,” I said.
He bit his lip and nodded. “We’re going to her aunt’s house in Christchurch, New Zealand. The gnomes don’t live on the South Island, you know.”
I did. They’d been driven out by bigger, badder beasts called attry-os nearly a century before and had never returned. But if I knew, so did Brude. I flashed a warning glance at Vayl. Which he smoothly ignored.
He said, “That is a wise choice. May we offer you our car for the journey? You can just leave it at the airport and we will pick it up later.”
Ruvin grinned, leaping forward to grasp Vayl’s hand and pump it up and down. “You’re ripper, you are! I’m sure I can never thank you enough! But if there’s anything I can do now…”
Bergman was the one who said, “I’m pretty sure we’ll think of something.”
Ruvin kept smiling. But at the same time his bottom lip had started quivering.
Uh-oh. I tried to back up, but the couch didn’t have an emergency exit. So I had to watch helplessly along with Bergman and Vayl while Ruvin sobbed into his handkerchief.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just all finally crashed down on me. Do you have any idea how hard it was to pretend I wasn’t shit-a-brick when that gorilla shoved me against the Patriot? And the worry was just eating my guts out.” He wiped his eyes and
blew his nose with a honking blast that made some night bird outside return the call.
Bergman nodded sympathetically. “We know exactly what you mean. Well, most of us,” he qualified. “Probably not Jeremy.”
We all looked at the vampire, who’d been the only one smart enough to get out of the line of fire during Ruvin’s breakdown. He’d parked himself by the fireplace, leaning one arm against the mantel, obviously ignorant as to what a fantastic picture he made. He shrugged. “Every living thing feels fear at one time or another.”
“Exactly my point,” Bergman said.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Ruvin, his stress taking a backseat to this new distraction.
Vayl sat on the coffee table beside my propped feet. He played with the heel of my boot, a gesture I found oddly erotic, as he admitted, “I am actually Vampere. These people are part of my Trust, and we all work for the CIA. We have come to your country to eliminate the man who threatened you today as well as anyone who has agreed to act as his backup.”
He paused. I could feel his power build and then drop. Whatever he said next, evidently he wanted Ruvin to decide for himself what to do about it. “We need you to stay in Australia. The Ufranites have chosen you as their hatchling feast, and at this late date I fear that if we force them to choose another, we will not be able to provide that family with the same sort of protection as we have you and yours. Do you understand?”
Ruvin looked down at his clasped hands. “You’re saying if I go to Christchurch with Tabitha and the boys, probably somebody else’s wife and kids will end up in the warren’s boiling pot.”
Vayl nodded. “I believe they will be like you in another respect as well. In fact, you can almost count on the Ufranites capturing another seinji family.”
Ruvin bit his lip. “Why us?” he asked, his tone as bewildered as that of a child trying to make sense out of undeserved punishment.
Vayl took a knee in front of Ruvin, like the little man had the power to knight him. “The Ufranites are fanatical when it comes to purity of bloodline. And, as your historians are well aware, many generations ago gnomes intermarried with feragoblins and the Japanese sect of tryynets, thus creating the line from which you descend.”
“So gnomes think we seinji are… impure?”
“They look upon you as an even lower form of life than their kimf. But do not worry over their willingness to harm seinji. We will guarantee your family’s safety.”
I stuck my fingers in my ears and wiggled them. Vayl had never cared before about the consequences of bringing civilians into our assignments. Cole was the perfect example. I’d argued against asking for his cooperation when he was still a private investigator, and look what happened to him. Poor schmuck had been lured into the good-versus-evil swamp with the rest of us.
I opened my mouth to say, “Don’t do it, Ruvin. This way only leads to potential beatings and situations that require you to flirt with women who remind you of the computer geek from Jurassic Park.”
But Vayl had asked for my trust, so I shut my yap. If he had a plan, fine. If not, maybe I could call on my head-girls to partially deafen Brude while we devised a better strategy.
Ruvin had listened closely to Vayl’s entire presentation. In the end he said, “My wife’s more the brains of the family. I should talk to her about this.”
Vayl bowed his head slightly. “Of course. But you must not tell her who we are. Only that you feel leaving would endanger another innocent family.”
Ruvin nodded glumly and trudged out of the room, his shoulders so bowed his neck looked three feet long.
I said, “That went well.”
“He’s freaked,” said Bergman. “Can anyone blame him?”
“Will he play his part, though?” I wondered.
Vayl came to sit next to me. “I believe so.”
“I don’t know, Vayl. What’s to keep the gnomes from taking another family anyway? With Tabitha and the boys safely away, they have no leverage on Ruvin.”
Watching Bergman tinker with Astral he said, “I have an idea that will keep them on the same course.”
The front door flying open made Bergman drop his mini-wrench. I shot off the couch, Grief already halfway out of its holster as Vayl rose, raising his cane like the sword it hid was already unsheathed.
We all relaxed as Cole and Raoul rolled in, packing such an arsenal with them that they clanked when they walked. Deep in conversation, they didn’t notice us at first.
“That works for you?” Raoul was asking.
“Women love it,” Cole said reassuringly. “I’m telling you, dude, try it. You can’t go wrong.”
Raoul shook his head. “You don’t know Nia. She—” He stopped as he realized they had an audience.
“Oh, hey!” Cole said. “We thought you guys would still be scoping out the schoolhouse. Did you miss us?”
I grabbed a belt off his shoulder that held a succession of small silver canisters and, as he nodded his thanks, said, “Actually, yes. We could’ve used you during the prison break.” As his eyebrows shot up I added, “Don’t tell me you’ve already corrupted my Spirit Guide. He’s one of the good guys, you know.”
Cole dumped a load of sheathed swords onto the floor and swung a strangely flexible shield down off his shoulder before saying, “Raoul and I have a deal. Which is none of your business.” He nodded reassuringly to the Eldhayr as Raoul gave him a warning look. “Although I have to say my odds of petting a kangaroo have spiked because of it. Now, tell us about the big escape. Did Bergman get himself arrested again?”
“I’ve never been arrested!” Bergman proclaimed, jumping to his feet like he meant to grab a sign and picket Cole in protest. Our sharpshooter’s response was to fall onto the couch right in the spot I’d vacated. Vayl and I both moved aside as he dropped his head onto a beige throw pillow.
“Where’s Cassandra? After we save her from demonkind, I think she should make us cake. And not that wheat-flour health-nut stuff she sells in her store, either. Sinfully delicious chocolate fudge cake with icing an inch thick. And sprinkles. I like me some sprinkles. Was she the one they arrested? But you said prison break.”
“Cole!” I resisted slapping him. Just.
He sat up. “What?”
“We rescued Ruvin’s family. And Cassandra’s…” I looked at Vayl for some help.
“She is looking after some business,” he said. “I will fill you in later.” When Cole’s eyes darted to mine before he looked back at Vayl and nodded, I realized the two of them might be keeping even more secrets from me. Because of the Domytr in my head. I wanted to clutch my hair and scream, except I had a feeling Brude would get a kick out of that.
Cole was saying, “You rescued Ruvin’s family? Really? Already?” He thought for a second. “Without me?”
I snapped, “I was just saying it would’ve been nice—”
“Why do I suddenly feel like the guy the professional shopper brings along to carry her bags?” Cole nudged the pile of weapons with his toe. Watched Raoul add a miniature catapult and a box that, I assumed, contained ammo.
“What do you—”
“What am I here for? All I’ve done so far is buy Vayl a fabulous airport funeral procession, and help Raoul strip his armory of every weapon that could possibly injure a demon.”
Vayl cracked his cane against the side of the table, which for him was about the most extreme demonstration of frustration he’d ever allow himself. “Beyond your theatrics, which I am sure these people find endlessly entertaining, we are depending on you to hold up your end when we return to check out the Odeam people.”
Cole visibly swallowed as he remembered that, depending on the results of our search, he might be taking part in a mini- massacre. Didn’t matter that the men would be facing certain death anyway. That we’d be replacing horrific, writhing agony with a quick, relatively painless exit. He’d never done a multiple before. And I could see he’d only begun to consider how that might work on his head, not
to mention the softer, more spiritual organs. After a second, he nodded. “Okay.”
“Plus, we need your translating skills,” I added. I pulled out the Ufranite guard’s stashed art and gave the paper to Cole. “Give this a look and let us know what you think.”
While Cole studied the picture, Raoul began to hand out the weapons. He said, “If we knew these demons’ identities, we could finely focus our attacks. But without pertinent details like parentage and proclivities, we had to go with the old standards. So we’ve brought one two-edged blade for each of you.” He gave Bergman a sheathed sword, adding, “Try not to cut your own head off,” as the weight of the weapon nearly caused Miles to drop it.
“Can’t I have a bow or something?” Bergman asked. “It seems like we’d all live a lot longer if we fought these things from a distance.” He turned the sheath in his hands, pulled the sword halfway out and shoved it back with a clang. “The farther back the better.”
Raoul pointed to the canister belt Cole had carried in. “Those will do most of our long-range fighting for us.”
“What are they?” I asked as he laid the belt down on the shield.
“Lima beans.”
Silence.
I said, “Uh. What’s the point? Beyond the fact that they suck.”
“They were grown on holy land, by the Monks of Acquaro, to be specific. As soon as the beans hit hellspawn they’ll burn into them like hydrochloric acid.”
Bergman had begun to nod about halfway through. “So while regular explosives won’t do the kind of injury we’re looking for on this plane, if we blow up the cans…”
“Exactly,” Raoul replied. “A direct hit should cause intense pain and even permanent damage. That’s if we catch them anywhere around here. The idea, however, is to lure the demons into a plane where these cans can kill.”
“Which is why Raoul’s got his spies working to let us know exactly when we can expect another visit,” Cole put in. “So far they say we’re safe. Cassandra’s stalker is having a tough time finding allies.” He flashed me a grin. “Something about that badass bitch she’s hanging with who took out the Magistrate not so long ago.” He nodded at Vayl. “They’re not too psyched about going against you either. What’s the deal about you carving up a faorzig so badly he’s still afraid to leave his den?”
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