Bitten to Death

by Jennifer Rardin

  Since she stood closest to Disa, I’d tagged Sibley as the most powerful member of her Vitem. Otherwise I’d have assumed that honor went to the dude standing next to her. His silver hair, pulled back in a tight ponytail, accentuated his smooth, fine-boned face. I guessed an age, added twenty years for the hair, and decided he’d been turned sometime after his fiftieth birthday. Given his maturity and office, he could’ve puffed and strutted like an elder statesman. But the way his eyes darted around the scene reminded me of a chipmunk ready to jump for cover the second he spied an owl. This guy’s gotta be Marcon.

  It was easy to pick out the other Vitem members from the fact that they lined up on the other side of Disa, each with his own set of groupies. The vamp directly to her left kept glancing at her and nodding whether she had anything to say or not. I figured he had his head so far up her ass he should probably learn sign language. But then, Vayl had already given me the lowdown on his old nemesis, Genti. To give the toady credit, at least he was a simple soul. All he wanted from life was the quickest route to Easy Street.

  He and his crew looked to have raided Bob’s Costume Supply before rushing out to confront us. Genti wore a furred, feathered top hat and a purple velvet smoking jacket over leopard-print pants. The other male vamp was dressed like the gunner for a WWII bombing crew, while the female seemed to be impersonating a homeless woman. Since I didn’t recognize either of them, I decided they must have arrived after Vayl left the Trust. Their human guardian, while beautiful in a Californian blonde sort of way, wore her hair in dreadlocks. Ick.

  The last Vitem member caught my interest because, of the entire group, he seemed the least scared. And he was the first vamp I’d met since Vayl who didn’t smell of the grave. I’d begun to believe this meant something significant for their souls. It was just a theory, though. And really, who knew?

  Vayl’s psychic scent reminded me of a walk through a pine forest. This guy I’d put more in the area of . . . freshly picked grapes. I studied him as closely as I dared, considering I was still covering a wanted felon. Though his hair hung longer, straighter, and redder than mine, it somehow accentuated the masculine planes of his face and the iron gray of his eyes. A sleek blue-silver pinstripe suit complemented his slender build and his height, which equaled Vayl’s.

  So this must be Niall, I thought. Though Vayl hadn’t said so, I’d gotten the feeling he and Niall had been friends before the break. Niall’s partner, a Greek stud named Admes, was a fierce warrior, according to Vayl, and absolutely loyal to Niall. A human in his mid-forties rounded out their group, his quiet, alert demeanor telling me if I ever wanted to get to the vamps, I’d have to mow through him first.

  “The Trust has always respected the wishes of its Deyrar, both past and present,” said Niall, whose accent put his birthplace somewhere in the vicinity of Dublin. It made me wonder how a son of Eire had wandered so far. Or if he’d been exiled from his homeland just as Vayl had been over two hundred years ago. “What was the boon Hamon asked of you?”

  “What does it matter?” shouted Genti. “Vayl turned his back on the Trust. He deserves nothing from us!”

  Vayl had told me Genti’s roots lay just north of Greece, in Albania, though he looked like a native with his coal-black hair and dirt-brown eyes, which were starting to cross with rage. I couldn’t decide if he and his group were genuinely pissed at Vayl for leaving, or if they despised him for returning. Only the human’s message was clear. And the come-get-me look she sent Vayl made me want to grind her face into the ground.

  Niall gave the Albanian a slap on the shoulder that seemed friendly. It made him wince. “Honestly, G-boy, do you ever stop shouting long enough to hear what’s actually being said to you?” he asked. “Because it sounded to me as if Hamon was after something from Vayl.”

  “My name is Genti Luan, you Irish hound, and if you do not say it with the respect it deserves, so help me I will pin you to a cross and watch you sizzle!” As soon as Genti revealed his whole name, Niall darted his eyes at me, his lips quirking. Hmm, interesting. In this place, where knowing someone’s full name gave you real leverage, Niall had just handed me a weapon.

  “You will have to excuse Genti, here, Ms. Robinson,” said Niall. “He was born without the ability to carry on a civil conversation.”

  Genti stuck his chest out so far he looked like he’d just snapped himself into a pair of child’s pants. “While you obviously believe the Trust has nothing to lose from Vayl’s reappearance, I beg to differ. To allow strangers here, ever, is risky. But now? I say it is insane!”

  Was he talking about Samos? Or something even more sinister? Before I could decide, a blur of movement demanded my full attention. Binns, sensing major distraction, had decided to jump me. Ignorant creature. Did he really think I’d panic when I saw him coming at me a million miles an hour, sure death in his blood-filled eyes? Naw. I just channeled that jolt of attack-inspired adrenaline into my arms, raised my crossbow the necessary three inches as he leaped at me, and shot him.

  His jaw gaped in utter disbelief as the finely polished maple pierced his heart. And then he faded. Wafted into the night while his clothes and the last bits of his material remains dropped to the stone at my feet, some of it scattering on the toes of my boots when I didn’t step away in time. I resisted brushing them against the backs of my jeans and dropped my arms with relief as Grief rolled another bolt into the chamber.

  “You killed him!” cried Genti’s Bomber boy. Though he’d probably been smoking stogies before my Gramps Lew learned to crawl, he looked young enough to be rapping his pencil against his desk as his driver’s ed teacher walked the class through the dos and don’ts of lane changing. I learned later his name was Rastus and he’d only joined the Trust six months before. He slapped the back of his black-nailed hand against Genti’s lace-covered chest. “I say we tear her limbs off and beat her to death with them!”

  Before I could blink, Vayl had unsheathed the sword that rode inside his cane, closed the gap between himself and Rastus, and rammed it straight into his throat.

  I laughed. Yeah, I know, wrong reaction. What can I say, my timing sucks. In my defense? Gaping vamps look hilarious. Like big, stupid bats with great tailors.

  “So,” I said, turning to the group at large. “Where were we? Oh yeah, I believe someone was discussing the merits of beating me to death with my own severed limbs.” Stab of fear on my part—typical delayed reaction. Ignore it, Jaz. If these predators smell weakness, you can kiss your ass goodbye.

  I shook my head and forefinger at the same time. “Not a wise choice, as you see. Vayl can go left or right with that sword, but if we find we can work together, I’m sure he’ll be willing to yank it straight out. Plus, where’s the fun in dismemberment? I’d definitely bleed out before any of you got off on it.”

  “In addition,” Niall said, “Rastus has not walked in the Trust long enough to have earned a voice.”

  Hmm, should I point out the irony of that comment, or does everyone already get it? Deciding I’d better make my point before somebody with an actual vote suggested an even grislier end to me, I said, “Edward Samos wants an alliance with you.” I maintained eye contact with Niall and Disa. Niall, because I sensed in him a potential ally. And Disa because she clearly had the final word. “Eryx knew that really meant Samos wanted to absorb you. Eat your autonomy and then flush it for all time. He also knew if you refused Samos’s offer he’d destroy your leadership and replace it with his own.” I paused. Let them wonder . . . had it already happened? Admes and the female vamp in Genti’s crew both sent curious looks in Disa’s direction. “So Eryx contacted Vayl,” I finished.

  “And who are you to speak within these walls?” demanded Genti.

  “She is my avhar,” said Vayl.

  He’d prepared me for the Big Announcement. I guess vamps have problems hooking up at the sverhamin level, so the reaction to those who do is usually pretty red-carpet. Ironic that we’d be viewed as celebrities among Vayl’s pe
ers, creatures who called their own communities Trusts but rarely pulled off the avhar/sverhamin connection.

  Not that I was completely at ease in the relationship. I still hadn’t read all the subparagraphs relating to late-night talks and who-gets-the-last-cookie moments. But I was sure as hell happier than Disa, who looked like she’d just bitten into a rotten tomato.

  The other vamps reacted more like I’d expected. Niall came forward to congratulate us. Sibley’s jaw gaped even wider than her neckline. Admes stared at Vayl as if he’d never seen him before. Marcon bowed his head respectfully and said, “I believe you can release Rastus now.” As if Vayl had him in a headlock. And the scariest thing? I could quickly get used to the total disregard the Vampere seemed to have for bloodletting. Considering I’d come into this mission thinking they were whacked, what did that say about me?

  Vayl yanked out his sword, stepping aside so the spurt of blood missed him and instead sprayed a fanlike arc on the ground. It stopped almost immediately. And not just because Rastus had covered the wound with his hand. He was already healing.

  Genti huddled with his crew, making a big show of supporting Rastus with his shoulder, though the vamp could clearly stand on his own. He threw a couple of annoyed looks back at Vayl as my boss turned to Disa, his long leather coat billowing out behind him in a sudden breeze that brought with it the smell of rain.

  Despite the fact that he was surrounded, Vayl gave no sense of being intimidated. Part of it was his stance, patient as a hunting panther in his black knit shirt and light gray slacks, his new boots shining like onyx daggers. Part was the way he cleaned his sword on his handkerchief and sheathed it. Deliberate. Dangerous. Death on a short, frayed leash.

  He said, “We are willing to continue the contract. If you choose to honor the voice of your former Deyrar, we could even be persuaded to forgive the insult brought upon us by these two.” He pointed the reconstructed cane first at Rastus, then at the remains of Alan Binns.

  Wow, that takes some nuts. We attack them and then force them to ask our forgiveness. For the most part our hosts seemed to feel the same. But I saw respect on a few faces.

  “We can take care of ourselves,” snarled the female vamp from Genti’s group. I spent some time studying her because, to be honest, I’d never seen a frumpy one before. It was nothing a good bra and some time in front of the makeup mirror wouldn’t cure. But her look seemed to be full-immersion.

  “You know my name,” I reminded her. “What should I call you?” I asked.

  “Koren,” she said, spitting the word at me like it might land somewhere close to the corner of my mouth and drip off, sending me into dry heaves.

  “Well, Koren, I’m going to have to differ with you there,” I drawled. “Because if you could take care of yourselves, you wouldn’t have a power-hungry madman trying to gobble up your Trust like it was made of goat cheese. And really, if you were any good at self-preservation, don’t you imagine Eryx would’ve called the florists, or the caterers, instead of a couple of American assassins? Gosh, if you had any skills maybe he’d even be alive right now. Or do you have him tied up in a dungeon somewhere?” Vayl threw me a look that said, Hey, I told you to act like the alpha, not to actually screw the pooch.

  I shoulda listened. But I wanted to see how hard I could push Disa’s buttons. I didn’t realize somebody’d already goosed Koren’s. She got this wild look on her face that told me she was close with Eryx. Maybe even his avhar. And anything I said about him would be used against me. Now.

  She screamed, “Bitch!” and launched, all fangs, nails, and unplucked eyebrows. Before I had time to react, she stopped suddenly, her eyes round and shocked as they lowered slowly to her abdomen. A neon green crossbow bolt as big as my middle finger protruded from her gut, still quivering from the impact.

  “Did you really think we’d walk in here without some sort of backup?” I asked, glad for the first time that we’d been forced to bring the man who lurked out of sight, just at the edge of the trees. “Now, we don’t have a whole lot of time to talk, because the little red pill attached to the pointy end of this missile is due to dissolve in the next minute or so, at which time it will set off a reaction in your system kinda like an internal sunburn. Can you say blister, peel, poof?”

  Koren gaped at me as I continued. “Sorry I can’t give you a closer timeline estimate.” I shrugged. “But it’s not an exact science.” I held up my hand as she grasped the bolt and tried to pull it free. “It doesn’t work that way. Only I can pull it out without leaving the pill inside you to do its dirty deed.” Unless Bergman had fouled up this small revision of his original invention. Which was entirely possible. His prototypes hardly ever followed the playbook. But I wasn’t going to advertise the fact.

  Vayl locked eyes with Disa. She hadn’t moved since the bolt had impaled her vamp. None of them had. Humans would’ve run screaming. Or collapsed into sobbing heaps. These others just became more still, further entranced. As if the smoking of Dinns, the stabbing of Rastus, and the shooting of Koren entertained them at the highest possible level. “So what will it be?” he demanded. “Are we on the team or not?”

  The Vitem gathered around Disa for a whispered conversation.

  At the same time the human from Genti’s crew ran forward with a wide, teak chair and helped Koren sink down into it. As with the costumes and the aid to Bomber boy, it struck me as more theatrical than necessary.

  I watched the Vitem converse with their leader, paying special attention to Sibley and Marcon. Hard to tell without audio if they were just spouting lines or if, like Niall, their actions stemmed from genuine opinions. Ten seconds later Disa emerged from the pack. “We will abide by Hamon Eryx’s contract,” she said.

  “Excellent,” said Vayl as I moved toward Koren.

  “You need to back off now,” I told the human who stood with her.

  “Why?” she demanded, a you-don’t-boss-me pout lining her face. Her pose told me right away she’d come from old money. The kind that sends their kids to camp all summer until they’re old enough to drive, at which time the allowance kicks in, giving them the means to stay out of the house and in trouble well into their thirties.

  I said, “Because my guy in the shadows has orders to keep me safe at any cost. And if he decides you’re too close to me, you’re going down.”

  When she still hesitated, Koren said, “Do as she says, Meryl.” The woman finally backed away as I grasped the head of the bolt.

  “Hold still,” I said. I held it steady with one hand while I gently depressed the head with the other. Koren moaned dramatically as I accidentally wiggled the shaft. “Oh, for shit’s sake, are you really that much of a candyass?”

  “How dare you speak to me that way?” Koren demanded, a note of hysteria in her voice.

  “You’re the fool who attacked an assassin. Most people who do that don’t end up chatting with me on their patios afterward.” The button on the head popped out, bringing with it the metal wire that ran down its center.

  “We do not have patios in Patras. Where on earth did Hamon find you? You are a complete savage!”

  I glanced at Vayl, thinking, I have to take this crap from the Mistress of Grunge? But his eyes practically sparkled at her statement.

  “Indeed she is,” he said. “And you will survive a great deal longer if you remember that fact.”

  I pulled the wire free along with the vamp-killing pill at its tip that Bergman had created on one of our previous missions. Because he hadn’t perfected it yet, I’d hesitated to make it a permanent part of my arsenal. But for this application—ideal.

  I broke the pill free of its wax coating and showed it to Koren. “Lucky you that Disa decided to play ball.”

  She gestured to the shaft of the bolt, still sticking out of her gut. “What about this?” she cried.

  “Keep it,” I said. “A little souvenir to remind you not to mess with skinny redheads from America.”

  Chapter Three

 
At a prearranged hand signal from me, our third dropped from his perch in the tree he’d chosen for its panoramic view of the courtyard and emerged from the thick forest of fir, oak, and chestnut south of the lane leading up to the villa. He wore the uniform unique to his military position—green and black camo over full-length body armor, matching bucket hat, and equipment out the wazoo. This included a field knife, night-vision goggles, first-aid kit, and sat phone. He’d left his urban assault weapon at home, but his Beretta M9 currently rode a shoulder holster similar to mine under his jacket. We’d provided the crossbow.

  Biting my lip to suppress the worry that twisted my gut whenever I recalled why SOCOM had, once again, partnered us with one of their best Special Ops commanders, I turned to Disa. She, alone, remained in the courtyard, having dismissed the rest of the Trust. They’d seemed eager to get back to whatever festivities we’d interrupted.

  “This is David,” I told Disa as our backup joined us at the table beside the garage. I omitted his last name. Hoped she wouldn’t smell the whiskey on his breath. Or notice the fact that we were twins. Someone less self-absorbed might have caught the resemblance. We share the same green eyes and stubborn chins. But Disa wasn’t interested in a man she saw as our servant. She didn’t acknowledge him as he came to stand at my shoulder. Probably wouldn’t even have raised an eyebrow if I’d turned around and belted him one. And I was tempted. What the hell was he thinking? No time to ask now. Disa had launched into conversation.

  “Did you ever think I’d come this far?” she asked Vayl.