Bitten in Two

by Jennifer Rardin

  “I’m set,” I said. And I meant it. So why had Vayl gone so still all of a sudden?

  Cole went on. “He also says the tannery is considered to be the entrance to the world of the dead. And that some of the men who work there, even today, know how to open and close the doorway.”

  I looked at my sverhamin. “What do you suppose that means?” I asked.

  He arched an eyebrow. “It means our map is genuine.” He stepped forward, pulling out his wallet. By the way Yousef’s eyes bugged at the handful of euros he pulled out, it probably amounted to more than he made in six months.

  I watched them—a dark, childless Rom who’d taken two centuries to master his craving for blood leaning over the sun-baked tanner with the caterpillar mustache—and couldn’t imagine more different men. Yet here they stood, bound by their connection to Marrakech and me.

  As Vayl said, “We need a guide,” and Yousef pocketed the bills, I let myself wonder if the tanner could help him in another way. Vayl had been savaged by his sons’ murders, but his grief hadn’t kept him from adopting Helena. And despite his medieval attitudes at the time, he’d still managed to be a good dad to her. To me, that said he still wanted the role. Needed it maybe. What if Yousef really was a fertility guru? What if he—and I—could make Vayl’s dream come true?

  I shook my head. Shoved the thoughts into the Miracle Basket at the back of my brain, which, as far as I knew, was directly connected to an incinerator. Because crazy thoughts could not be tolerated inside my skull. Especially not when they had to share space with a Domytr.

  Besides, I had to keep up with Yousef, who’d brought bewildering passion to his new job. In fact, he shot out of the room like the cops were on his tail. Didn’t even look back, just assumed we wanted to get there as bad as he wanted to earn his money.

  We ran after him, only barely avoiding an embarrassing body jam at the door because I beat the guys out and Vayl clapped Sterling and Cole’s shoulders together before shoving them forward. Somehow we all kept our feet and raced down the stairs after our guide, hoping his slap-happy sandals didn’t attract Monique. Unfortunately, she was waiting for us at the bottom, cell phone in hand.

  “I have many friends,” she called as we swept past her. “If it’s an earthquake, I need to know who to call!”

  “We think we can stop it from here!” I shouted over my shoulder. “Hunker down and wait for more news. We’ll be back soon!” I hope.

  “What about Miles?” she cried as Yousef slammed out the front door.

  Cole answered for me. “Take care of him for us, will ya?”

  Though I expected Yousef to be three blocks ahead of us, he was beside the Galaxie when we reached the street. As we piled in, Vayl shoved Yousef to the backseat with Cole and Sterling so he couldn’t cuddle next to me. I grinned at my sverhamin, loving that hint of possessiveness that I returned with interest. Starting the car felt like loading a gun. I felt my hands begin to shake. I was going to drive my baby to the big showdown!

  Vayl put his lips to my ear. “Are you ready to annihilate some demons?”

  I thought about Kyphas. And Brude. No more than the grit between my foot and the accelerator. And knew my shiver had as much to do with wasting them as it did Vayl’s hot breath tickling one of my most sensitive spots. When I turned my head his lips hovered next to mine. I stole my smile from his repertoire, just a twitch to show how hard I was working to master my passion as I let my eyelids drop. “I’m up for it,” I said. Glancing over my shoulder I added, “Best route, Yousef?”

  Cole gave me his reply. “I’ll show you. We’ll come to the tannery from outside the city, taking the Route Des Remparts to the Bab ed-Debbagh.”

  I knew the gate, an arched break in the impressive ochre wall that stretched for miles around the old city, proving that even in the thirteenth century they knew how to turn towns into fortresses.

  As I swung the Galaxie into motion I said, “Vayl, do you remember the gate from the last time you were here?”

  His nod went more up than down. “Helena and I toured the city one day and we saw it then. Legends say that an evil djinn named Malik Gharub is trapped within the gate, so I suggest none of you rub anything that resembles a lamp.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, making sure Sterling could see my expression.

  “Fine!” he said. “I won’t go after the djinn! Although just a touch could probably fuel me for a year without even sleeping.”

  “Why does he want to skip sleep?” Vayl asked me.

  “He’s studying to be a Bard,” I said. “Takes time, you know? He’d get there twice as fast if he could skip the Z’s.”

  “Ah.”

  “Speaking of skipping,” Cole interrupted, “Yousef says there’s a pothole coming up that’s big enough to swallow us whole. Stay in the middle of the road.”

  “Will do,” I replied. For the rest of the trip I paid attention to the tanner and his interpreter, who continued pointing out the turns and the axle-breakers. I didn’t much mind the backseat driving because, dayum, my new wheels could put the power down! I suddenly wondered… was that all? It’d be just like Vayl, having trotted out the big surprise, to hold off on a little one like, “Oh, by the way, I had Bergman make a few modifications,” until he decided it was time to pop the details on me. I vowed to give the girl a good going over as soon as I had a free minute.

  Which wasn’t now. Because we’d arrived at the Bab ed-Debbagh, a gray archway topped with a simple array of vertical stones. We parked in a lot outside the gate, piled out, and secured the car, following Yousef onto cobbled streets that turned and twisted so many times before they released us into the city proper we had to wonder how anybody had ever conquered it. This close to dawn we only met a few farmers carting their wares to the souks to be sold later that morning. Otherwise, all we saw were feral cats nosing through piles of trash that had blown against the walls of neglected red-walled homes that might once have housed rich merchants. Now they held the poorest citizens of Marrakech.

  We ducked into lanes so narrow I could stretch out both arms and touch the walls that fenced them. We bounded up staircases whose steps were so chipped and worn I could easily imagine the steady succession of invaders who had pounded up and down them in their quest to be the next great conquerors of a shining Moroccan city. And I wondered if it could possibly have stunk as bad back then as it did now.

  Yousef stopped beside a doorway with a large pot of some dark green plant growing beside it. He broke off a piece for each of us and gestured for us to hold it under our noses. When we did, we inhaled the refreshing scent of mint, strong enough that the other smell barely got through. Then he led us into an abandoned building whose windows might never have held glass, up stairs that had been formed of the same rough material as the walls, and onto a roof that groaned occasionally, making me wonder just how much weight it could hold beyond the rusty metalwork railing that divided it into thirds. He took us to the edge, gestured below, and spoke.

  Cole said, “We’re here.”

  We looked down, our extra visual capabilities showing us a large open space, its uneven border shaped by the tall, windowless buildings just like ours that surrounded it. In the middle sat cement tubs that would shine so white in the sun I suspected looking at them without sunglasses could give you headaches. Some stood alone. Some were connected circles or squares, like Tetris blocks where the line is nearly finished, or where one in the shape of a backward L has fallen randomly next to another shaped like an I. Of the individual vats, a few looked to be a much darker color. Those had high rims that wouldn’t allow accidental slippage, but many were dug so deeply into the ground that they worked as actual pools, and they were filled with a brew that looked certain to kill whatever touched it. Animal hides in various stages of tanning stretched across maybe a third of the vats and, gawd, the stench! Even with the mint stuffed against my nostrils I couldn’t get past it.

  Yeah, I could believe the legends about this place. And tha
t the Weres had decided to hide a demon’s tool here seemed like a stroke of genius. If Roldan could see us now he’d be howling as he regarded us from his comfy little beanbag throne in one of Valencia’s posher villas.

  “Go ahead, you pitiful schmucks,” he’d say. “Just try and find my needle in Marrakech’s nauseating little haystack.”

  To which I’d have to reply (after kicking him square in the teeth, of course), “We’ve got the map, ya douche. It’s not gonna be that hard.” If that was true, of course, some hellspawn or other would’ve retrieved the Rocenz a long time ago. But I didn’t need to be that honest with myself today.

  We’ve got the map. We’ve got a tanner. How hard can it be? I assured myself as we crowded around the clue page Bergman had printed from Astral’s visual memory. I should’ve known better than to ask myself that question.

  Vayl turned the map so the shapes on it matched the vats twenty feet below us. Most of us could see them without the aid of the two or three pole lights that worked so poorly they left the majority of the tannery in shadow. But Yousef, with his nose nearly brushing the paper, still had to squint to make the images stand apart from one another.

  Vayl said, “We need a light for our guide.”

  Sterling reached into one of his pants pockets and pulled out a yellow yo-yo that I recalled from our last mission together. Its string, a thin black line that looked like it would tangle if you even looked at it funny, fit around his middle finger and then clipped into a groove on his left bracelet. Holding the toy as if he meant to “walk the dog,” he tossed it toward the ground. As soon as it jerked to the end of its line it began to glow. By the time it had rolled back up to where he could snag it, our warlock was holding a glow-globe.

  He trained it on the map while Vayl said, “Cole, ask Yousef if any of this looks familiar to him.”

  Cole translated quickly, but his eyes weren’t on the prize. He was peering into the darkness, his expression so close to bitter he might’ve just swallowed a glass full of cranberry juice. He didn’t seem to concentrate on Yousef’s reply, but his words were steady. “Of course the dyes we use are different than the ones shown in the map. But otherwise it looks right.”

  Sterling’s light wavered, and an odd image caught my eye.

  “Hey.” I pointed to his hand. “Hold that underneath the page, wouldja?”

  Sterling moved the yo-yo beneath the paper. In one spot it seemed to reveal a second picture.

  I’d been bending as close to it as I could manage considering I was shoulder to shoulder with four other people. Now I glanced up at Vayl. “There’s definitely something else here. I think the original map wasn’t just drawn, it was built, like those old paintings that have a second portrait hidden underneath. The real map is lying under a thin layer of material that’s got to be removed before we can figure out where the Rocenz is.”

  “So we still have to get the treasure scroll from the demon,” Cole said flatly.

  “Yeah.” I watched him closely. Finally I said, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  Even lit by the distant glow of Sterling’s light and detailed by my night vision, I could barely read Cole’s expression. If I had to guess I’d have said he was feeling about as much self-loathing as a young girl who’s mowed her way through an entire package of Chips Ahoy. But instead of saying, “I’ve been naive,” he said, “I’ll kill her myself.”

  Which was when I realized she’d gotten to him. Somehow that bitch had wriggled through the cracks in his heart and set down roots. And I had no idea how to respond to the anger snapping in his eyes now. Except to be honest. “You can’t get that done on this plane.”

  “I know.”

  “You shouldn’t kill her at all.”

  He glared at me. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re mad at her.” I didn’t have to remind him of the first rule. I could see he remembered that we don’t kill when we’re angry, because that’s when we stop being assassins and become something else entirely. He was just standing in a place I’d been too many times myself. And he really didn’t give a shit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  So we waited. Dawn approached. Vayl drove back to the riad. Yousef went down to work. But Kyphas never showed. We began a watch, two on, one sleeping in the room nearest the roof access, all of us with our noses so deep in the mint we began to forget what real air smelled like.

  The room we picked felt like the rest of the tannery, stripped of everything beautiful, its bones dry and cracking, but still of practical use. I’d been in worse places. Then I realized the brown stained walls, the dirt-choked floors, the single hanging bulb that hadn’t felt a charge in decades weren’t depressing me. It was Cole, nursing an anger that fit him about as well as a judge’s robes. And Sterling, ill at ease enclosed in a space that sucked in the heat while it rejected light, air, and worst of all, music. He’d start to hum a tune and then trail off, like he’d forgotten the melody. Until he finally just stopped.

  Yousef brought us meals, for which we paid him so well that he nearly wept. And I tried not to develop an attachment to him. I liked his loyalty. It was just that I knew he hoped I’d reward him with a hearty slap on the cheek followed by a kick to the shin. And I couldn’t wrap my mind around that. Didn’t even want to try.

  At dusk Vayl returned. He took one look at us and said, “We are going to the roof.”

  As soon as we stepped into the open we felt better. I wondered how entire families survived in rooms like the ones we’d left, how they shielded their souls from the crushing hopelessness walls and ceilings like those brought down on them. And I thought, looking sideways at Yousef and Kamal, who’d come to join us after their visit to the hammam, that some of them didn’t.

  “Kamal,” I said, “tell Yousef that we’re expecting violence tonight. And if it comes, the two of you have to stay on the roof.”

  When Kamal translated and I saw the excitement brighten Yousef’s face I nearly shook him. But I knew he’d enjoy it too much, so I just said, “It won’t be the kind of pain Yousef enjoys. You have to make him understand that. You could both die.”

  Kamal half turned, like he wanted to bolt but his feet had somehow stuck to the floor. He whispered, “Who are you?”

  “It’s better that you don’t know, okay? We need Yousef to read the map after we get it, but only when it’s safe.” I handed them both more euros than they’d ever seen. “We’ll give you twice that when this is over. Just hang out here. That’s all you have to do. Okay?”

  Kamal nodded until Yousef pinched him and demanded some translating, dammit! Then he seemed even happier to cooperate than his buddy. To the point that they found us all rickety folding chairs to sit in while we watched and waited some more. My work is way exciting. Except for the times when it bores me out of my mind.

  I couldn’t have been asleep long. My dreams had only begun to take on the detail of real life when Vayl shook me awake. I checked my watch. Three a.m. He motioned for me to join the rest of the crew at the edge of the roof, all squatting in a neat row like marksmen waiting for the bank robbers to come riding into town. Yousef and Kamal huddled on one end, whispering to each other. Next to them Sterling crouched, watchful as a stalking lion. Cole knelt to his left, grasping the hilt of his sword like he meant to pull and charge within the next couple of seconds. Vayl went to sit at his shoulder, waiting patiently until Cole turned to meet his eyes.

  “Remember why we do this,” Vayl said. I’d sunk to my heels on the other side of him. Now he tilted his head toward me. “Jasmine cannot be free without the Rocenz.”

  “I know that,” Cole snapped.

  “Did you know she has been experiencing nosebleeds and headaches?”

  We both stared. “Little escapes my attention when I am fully attuned,” Vayl said.

  “It’s nothing—” I began.

  “He is killing you!” Vayl let me see the flecks of orange starting to paint over the stormy blue of his eyes before he turne
d them back to Cole. “Saving Jasmine is your priority tonight. All else pales.”

  He turned back to the scene unfolding below us, and though I could feel Cole’s troubled gaze on me, I concentrated on the action in the tannery as well. Because nothing could come of significant looks, no matter how mopey we made them.

  The creatures who’d appeared below us kept to the tannery’s dark corners at first. But as their search went on and it became obvious that they couldn’t figure out their map, they lost the patience stealth requires and became a lot easier to count.

  “She sucks at recruiting,” Cole said.

  “How many do you see?” Vayl asked.

  “Three so far.”

  “Add the two who have remained by the plane portal door and, of course, the demon,” Vayl reminded him.

  “She’s not with them?”

  “No.” He turned and stood in one smooth motion, raising his cane in such a way that I knew instantly we were in trouble. Without fully understanding why I needed to, I came to my feet and pulled steel. Then I caught sight of Kyphas standing across the roof from us, her flyssa hanging at her side.

  “You will never win this fight,” Vayl said, pointing the cane at her like he was already seeing the sword it contained carving through her flesh.

  “I’m not here to battle,” Kyphas said, glancing down at the figures slithering among the vats like she thought they might overhear us. She held out—what the hell?

  “That’s the map,” said Cole, unnecessarily, because we could all see the raggedy-edged scroll rolled tightly in her fist.

  “She can’t decode it,” I said. “She’s brought it to us so we can find the tool and then she’s taking it back with her.”

  “No, of course not. Well, I mean yes to part of that. We can’t decode it. But I’m here because—” Her eyes lit on Cole like a butterfly lands on a flower, so lightly he never felt their touch, before moving on to Sterling’s, mine, Vayl’s, even Kamal’s. She ignored Yousef so completely he might as well have been a roof vent, standing completely still, shocked to immobility in the face of her absolute beauty. “We have a contract,” she finished.