Bitten in Two

by Jennifer Rardin

  Cassandra said, “He was out of line too.”

  “See, that’s why my brother loves you. Is he home yet?”

  New excitement in her voice as she said, “I’m meeting his plane tomorrow. I can’t wait! Is it okay if I take Jack with me?”

  “Sure. Just tell him he doesn’t have to get on the plane this time, okay? Otherwise he’ll take off in the opposite direction.”

  “Okay. And, um, I’ll call Sterling now.”

  “You are the best future sister-in-law ever.” I had to sit there for a minute after I hung up before I could identify the strange new feeling making me want to jump up and pace around the room.

  Huh. I think it’s called hope. But don’t quote me on that. I’ve been wrong before.

  Nothing makes me hungrier than a gut full of optimism. So I took Vayl’s cane in one hand and let the other brush back the sienna-tinted curtains that spanned my balcony door. Across the courtyard, through the doors that exited the lounge, I could see people moving around inside the room. Which meant cake could still be snatched from under their noses if I was cunning, bold, or charming, all of which I felt were suddenly within my skill set. But just in case I needed help, I pulled a compact from my battered black weapons bag and, from it, peeled off two fake eyelashes. Besides making me resemble Trixie the Velcro-uniformed nurse at the Silver Spurs Saloon, they gave me access to any video feeds our friendly neighborhood robokitty might want to send me.

  I ran down to the second floor and knocked on Bergman’s door. He didn’t answer. I knew better than to barge in. He probably had a rocket launcher set to fire as soon as the knob turned the wrong way. So I knelt by the crack between the embellished wood and the floor.

  “Come on out, Astral,” I coaxed. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your gears purring.”

  Without another noise she slid out to me, her sleek black coat in blob-array to allow her to pass through the thumb-sized opening. “Thatta girl,” I said as we both took our typical stances. I only popped a couple of times at the knee. She sounded like a bag of Orville Redenbacher’s, and kinda resembled one too, her parts reinflating to catly proportions with remarkable speed. I waited. When her claws didn’t appear I said, “Aren’t you going to recalibrate?”

  She regarded me with golden eyes that seemed to cross slightly the longer we stared at each other. Then she said, “Hello!” Eerie how her lips made just the right shapes. Bergman must’ve spent six months on her mouth controls alone.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘No.’ Now remember not to talk in front of Monique. You’re barely believable as it is.”

  I headed for the next set of stairs, glancing down at Astral as she trotted beside me. I knew if I touched her she’d feel like one of those metallic silver sleeping bags that insulate to forty below. Which was why we’d told Monique that Astral was a weather cat. We’d unraveled this huge yarn about her already having predicted three tornadoes and a volcanic eruption. So now part of our research (specifically mine) was to see if she could foresee sandstorms. Or flash floods. But it all had to do with her unique coat, so we’d asked Monique never to touch her, because to do so could ruin all our data.

  “You know, I’d worry about there being a special place for liars in hell,” I whispered to her. “But I’m pretty sure the assassins’ level is so much worse, it’s not even worth my time to stress over it anymore.”

  Her only reply was a twitch of her inky ears to let me know she’d heard. At least she hadn’t spoken, or worse, sung out a reply. And once we got to the lounge I realized I hadn’t needed to freak about Monique at all. She’d taken off for the night, leaving Cole and Kyphas to play a game of backgammon. Well, that seemed to have been the original idea, because the game board and pieces were all set up on the table where the cake had been. Which meant Monique had probably taken it back to the—

  Kitchen raid! shrieked Teen Me. She’d been lounging in a hammock she’d strung between Granny May’s clothesline poles. Now she rolled off with such an utter lack of grace you’d have laughed out loud to learn her track coaches occasionally referred to her as an “athlete.” I want the icing! That’s all I want! Just the icing! You eat the cake part! she said, glancing over her shoulder at Gran, who had just begun to hang a sheet on the line.

  Granny May looked over the tops of her glasses at me. You see what I had to put up with?

  I shushed them both. Because though I’d thought Cole and Kyphas were bent over the instructions to the game at first, I knew differently when he pulled the sheet of paper they’d both been holding out of the demon’s hands.

  As he studied the paper I backed to the stairs, leaving Astral in the room to send the signal that played out like a holograph three feet in front of my eyes. I sat on the bottom step, turning Vayl’s cane between my fingers as I watched Cole slide the paper in his, giving Astral enough of a view to show a hammer with a double-thick handle that ended in a sharp point.

  “So this is the Rocenz,” he said, sitting back on the couch and shoving his feet out in front of him until the toes of his shoes hit the table.

  “Yes.” Kyphas leaned toward him, resting her elbows on her knees to show off the remarkableness of her cleavage. And, of course, his eyes tracked to them like radar. Smiling wickedly, she said, “I thought you’d already seen it.”

  He shook his head. “Vayl told me about it, but I missed the slide show. So it’s two tools that are, what, magically joined at the hip?”

  “You could say that.”

  “And how do you separate the hammer from the chisel?”

  She scooted closer to him. “I have no idea.”

  “Sure you do. It was forged by a demon, right?”

  She nodded. “Lord Torledge created it.” She looked down at the picture. When she looked up again I thought I saw her eyes flash bright yellow. But I could’ve been mistaken. A second later they were back to hazel.

  Cole let the picture rest on his thigh and laid his arm across the back of the couch. He seemed so relaxed that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see his eyes flutter shut. “Is he still around? Pounding out new weapons for hell to lose track of?”

  Kyphas sat back. Now it was as if Cole had his arm around her shoulders. She said, “He’s still working. And I know where you’re going with this. He does know how to separate the parts.” She turned toward him, pressing the side of her breast into his chest. “I can find out for you. If…”

  “If?” He dropped his free hand to the expanse of tanned skin between her neck and shoulder. Watched his fingers push her sleeve down her arm, then move across the dangerously low neckline of her blouse.

  She gasped. Reached up for his face and pulled him to her. Their kiss was so fiery that I turned away. My stomach rolled. Everything about this moment was wrong. But I couldn’t do anything to make it better. I stepped back.

  Then I heard Kyphas say, “I can give you everything you want, Cole. You have only to ask. The Rocenz. The key to unlock it. You can save Jasmine. You can have me.”

  “I want that. But I’m not as convinced as everybody else is that this tool is going to work.”

  I recalled the playback I’d seen of the Hart Ranch hand, Zell Culver, using the hammer and chisel to carve the name of the earthbane, Thraole-Lulid, into the gates of hell. The tool had performed as promised, diminishing the monster to a pile of gore.

  Kyphas’s next words pulled me back into the conversation. “I don’t make agreements I can’t keep, Cole. Jasmine can defeat Brude with the Rocenz.”

  “All you want in return is my soul, right?”

  Yellow lit her eyes. “I could take it without your permission. The Rocenz is more than just a primitive demon-killer, after all. It was designed to do much more intricate carving.” She smiled as her eyes darkened. “But I’m not that kind of girl. I like my souls freely given. And when you think of it, it’s a small price to pay for eternal ecstasy.”

  Cole transferred his hand to the back of the couch. “I don’t think so.”
/>
  “Why not?” No, I wasn’t wrong. That was real pain in her voice.

  His voice was hard as flint as he said, “Jaz would never forgive me if I sold my soul for her. And I couldn’t live with that. In fact, I couldn’t live with you. Yeah, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever kissed. But you’re not her.”

  “I could be.” Was she… begging… a little now?

  “No. Jaz may cross the line once in a while, but at least she knows where the line is.”

  “Line?”

  Cole rose, bringing Kyphas up with him. My cue to backpedal. “Exactly.”

  “You should reconsider.” Harshness now, clear warning in that hellborn tone.

  “What’re you going to do to me, Kyphas? And before you answer, let me just remind you how many burn wards would’ve written you off the last time you came after a member of Vayl’s Trust.”

  She snorted. “Vayl is no threat in his current state.”

  “But Jaz is. I’m not saying I know a whole lot about Vampere politics. But as his avhar, she’s gotta be perfectly capable of stepping in and kicking your ass out the door. Or, to be more specific, enforcing the contract you signed promising you wouldn’t hurt anybody under Vayl’s protection.”

  I could only see her profile in the silence that followed, but it was enough to show the frustrated color that had risen in her cheeks. Even though Astral picked up minute sounds, I had to lean forward to hear her whisper, “You have to know I would never willingly hurt you.”

  His laugh was so sharp it should’ve drawn blood. “You’re a demon. That’s who you are.”

  She stepped toward him. Her eyes were wide, intense on his as she said, “It’s not who I want to be. Not when I’m with you.”

  She reached forward. Pressed her hands against his chest. “You confuse me. You enrage me. But I’m tired of pretending that you’re nothing but meat to me. I’ll do anything. I’ll be anyone you like. If you only kiss me again.”

  Anticipation curled the corners of my mouth. And now for the final cut.

  I nearly gasped out loud when he pulled her into his arms. Their lips met in a kiss so fiery I was surprised their clothes didn’t melt off. When Cole grabbed her by the hips and her legs wrapped around his back I tore off the fake lashes, Astral’s cue to get the hell out.

  She joined me on the steps, sitting beside me while I tried to think what to do next. Thump from the lounge as the couch rammed back into the wall. That did it. My buddy, one of the most cheerful, hilarious dudes I’d ever met, was screwing an unrepentant demon. No good could come of it, especially for him. As soon as Kyphas became expendable I was going to kill her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  So much for cake. I gripped Vayl’s cane tight and sped up to my room, Astral a rocketing shadow at my heels. The run did me good. By the time I collapsed on my gigantic bed with the cat curled up beside me I could think again. As I stroked her smooth head I decided to have a real face-to-face with Raoul. Fighting demons was his gig after all. If anybody could help me take Kyphas down, it would be him. And in the meantime?

  I had to think of some stellar babe to fix Cole up with. But I didn’t really know any nice girls besides Evie. Hey! That was it! She had a lot of friends who spent their whole lives in Normalville. She could easily find Cole a fabulous woman. Somebody who wouldn’t flip out if he traveled some. A woman who liked guys with sun-bleached hair and…

  I didn’t realize I’d nodded off until I heard a tapping at my window. I sat up in bed, pulling Grief from its holster before my feet hit the floor. Again the taps, four or five, hitting almost, but not quite, at the same time. The window was the one that faced the street.

  “What is it, Astral?” I whispered.

  The cat didn’t reply, just hopped off the bed and went to the curtains, where she waited patiently for me to pull them open. I stood by the wall. Peering between the material and the glass, I could see down to the street, where a man wearing a gray button-down shirt and white pants stood, his hand full of pebbles, his upturned face clear in the streetlights.

  “Oh, for chrissake!” I flipped the curtains aside and lifted the window. “Aren’t you the guy I kicked the crap out of before?”

  He smiled and slapped himself on the chest. “Yousef!” he announced happily.

  “How did you find me?”

  He glanced over his shoulder and his young translator slunk guiltily out of the shadows. After a brief conference the teenager said, “Yousef says it is not difficult to place you, as you may be the only red-haired woman in Marrakech.”

  Dammit! Why didn’t I dye my hair before we came here? “What do you want?” I demanded. I checked the watch Bergman had made me, wishing it shot lightning bolts or laser beams. Holy crap! “And why are you here at four thirty in the morning?”

  “We are on our way to work, lady,” said the boy.

  “Where do you work?” I asked.

  “In the tannery.”

  That explained the stench on the men and in the part of the medina where we’d been following Vayl the night before. Transforming animal skins into supple leathers was a laborious and revolting job, but I wouldn’t look down my nose at these guys for the work they’d chosen. At least they were trying to make an honest buck.

  I said, “Isn’t this out of your way?”

  Another discussion between Yousef and the boy. What was his name? Oh yeah, Kamal. He wiped his hand across his lips, clearly wishing he didn’t have to say, “Yousef would like you to know that he is falling”—he made a diving motion with his hands—“into the love with you. And you would do well to marry him before you leave the country.”

  I felt my jaw drop. “Are you insane?” I slashed my hand at Kamal before he could translate, stomped back to my weapons bag, grabbed my silencer, and screwed it onto Grief’s barrel. Just as I got back to the window a handful of pebbles flew through.

  Shit!

  I dodged aside, waited a beat to make sure Yousef wasn’t launching a second handful, then whipped my Walther PPK into position.

  Kamal squealed as soon as he saw the gun clear the windowsill. He dove into the bushes that belonged to the two-story house across the street. Yousef, on the other hand, spread his arms like we were about to do big reunion hugs. He started speaking rapid Arabic, shaking his head back and forth to emphasize his words and closing his eyes blissfully as he talked.

  “Kamal! Tell your buddy to go away!”

  Kamal translated. When it was time for him to relay Yousef’s message to me he was nearly weeping. “Yousef says he must stay until all the birds of Morocco have sung your name. Please do not shoot him, lady. He is not a bad man. He is just a little crazy.”

  I took aim. Squeezed the trigger. Ping! The cobblestones in front of Yousef’s feet flew apart as the bullet impacted them.

  Kamal screamed and jumped out from behind the bushes. Yousef laughed and did a little soft-shoe.

  What the hell?

  Kamal grabbed his friend’s arm and tried to pull him away. They argued vehemently for about thirty seconds. Finally the boy’s head dropped and he yelled up to me, “Yousef says he will only leave if you give him your name. I apologize, but it was the only way I could secure his agreement.”

  I shrugged. “It’s Madame Berggia.”

  Kamal sighed as Yousef talked some more. Then he said, “Yousef wishes me to say these words: ‘All right, I leave, my wondrous one. But while we are apart my heart will beat with the sound of your name. Until we meet in our dreams!’” The tanners walked away, leaving me free to go back into my room, dropping the window and the curtain.

  “Ow!” I picked up the pebble I’d stepped on. “You know what, Astral?” The cat looked up inquiringly. “No matter how I look at it lately, love hurts.”

  “Love is a battlefield,” she sang softly, making me wonder how many of Pat Benatar’s hits Bergman had downloaded into her memory.

  I flopped back down into bed, so tired that I didn’t have a single conscious thought befo
re the dreams began. And they made no sense. It was like one of my inner girls had commandeered the remote and decided to channel flip her way through the night. I relived the poker game I’d played with Dave’s unit, after which Cam, his right-hand man, had given me my precious chips. Stella screamed at me again as the dogs dragged her back into hell. And just as I turned away, the blizzard-swept cairn dissolved into a Hawaiian pier, and Matt stood before me, his hands outstretched. “Dance with me, Jazzy.”

  Every fear lifted. All my worries dissolved as I felt his arms close around me. I laid my head against his shoulder and took a deep breath. The scent of cedar and freshly mown grass that was uniquely Matt filled my lungs, and for one moment I felt whole again. I smiled against the rough cloth of his jacket. And then realized.

  “You should be wearing a cotton shirt. One of those ridiculous Hawaiian numbers with huge pink flowers.”

  “Jasmine. It’s me.”

  I shoved him away. My blue-eyed Navy Seal had been replaced by a uniformed Ranger with a soft Spanish accent. “Raoul? What the—I mean, really? Here? Now?” When I was finally feeling good? I’d shove you again, but that’s probably a major sin and I am so stocked on those.

  He ran his hand through his dark brown crew cut. “I am sorry, but jumping into your dreams is like parachuting into an active volcano. Do you realize how unpredictable they are? I’m lucky not to hit when you’re under a barrage of gunfire!”

  “Are they that real?”

  Raoul led me to the table at the end of the pier. It was still set for two. Hell, even the candles were still burning. He said, “Not until I arrive. And then they become something more… that makes me want to avoid blades and bullets.”

  “Well, couldn’t you time your drops a little better? What if I’d been having a really hot dream about Vayl? That would’ve ended our relationship right then and there!”

  “I would never—”

  “Good!”