Bitten to Death

by Jennifer Rardin

  “You got out,” I said. “That implies that the Deyrar isn’t omnipotent.”

  Vayl shrugged. “It took me decades to build the strength. And in the end, it was what Hamon and I both wanted.”

  Dave said, “That seems pretty convenient. Care to elaborate?”

  Vayl spent some time studying the fountain. “I had begun to realize I was trading safety for freedom, and the price was the erosion of what remained of my—” He glanced up. Tightened his lips. It reminded me so strongly of Bergman’s nunya-bizness look that I smiled. Vayl said, “I realized I did not want to fit into Hamon’s world anymore. But many in the Trust felt my new leanings would serve them better. When I expressed a desire to leave, they asked me to challenge him instead.”

  The way Vayl said the word “challenge” let us know he wasn’t referring to a chess match.

  Though we all knew the ultimate outcome, none of us mocked Dave when he asked intently, “So what did you do?”

  “I had found a new Seer. A Sister of the Second Sight, like Cassandra. She had told me I would meet my sons in America. It was 1921. I had spent one hundred and nine years in the Trust. More time than I had lived anywhere else in all my life. But the possibility of seeing my boys again began to obsess me as it had not in over thirty years. So I went to Hamon with an ultimatum.” Vayl looked at his empty hands, rubbed his fingers together as if he missed the feel of his cane. I realized with a sense of awe that he’d probably held that very item in his hands the night he’d confronted Hamon with his choices. “I told him either he had to let me go. Or I would drape myself with the powers of my supporters and tear him from the center of the Trust like a cancerous tumor.”

  “What did he say to that?” Dave prodded.

  “He sat back in his throne of a chair, steepled his hands like the mathematics professor he had once been, and said, ‘Dearling boy, I see no need for us to be at odds. Of course you may go.’”

  That word “dearling” caught my attention, but before I could figure out where I’d heard it before, Vayl had gone on with his story. “So I packed my bags and took the first ship I could find for New York. Of course Hamon sent hunters after me. It could do his reputation harm if word leaked that one of his own had deserted the Trust.”

  “But you killed them,” Dave said, trading a knowing look with me.

  “You might call it my introduction to my new career,” Vayl said with a slight nod, his gesture taking in the room but referring to every mission he’d had since signing on with the CIA in 1927. “Of course, it took the government some time to organize a department that could use my particular talents. But when it finally evolved, I became its first staff member.”

  I hadn’t known the department Pete now supervised was created around his longest-living and most legendary staff member. But when you thought about it, it made perfect sense.

  “That was a pretty slick escape,” said Dave, rubbing his neck as he once had when the Wizard was in charge of him. I could tell by the tone in his voice that he wondered why he hadn’t been able to pull off something similar. Well, hell, if he’d had forty years to plan, maybe he’d have figured something out as well!

  Deciding now was the time to make my own exit, I said, “’Scuse me,” as I headed toward the bathroom. When I was safe behind the locked door, thumbing through my short list of numbers, I realized Cole hadn’t contacted me in a while. Did that mean his mission was going well? One could only hope.

  My father answered the phone with his usual grumble. “Judge Judy’s on. Make it quick.”

  “It’s good to hear your voice too, Albert. How’s Shelby?”

  Shelby is Albert’s nurse, and the main reason the old man still has all his fingers and toes. Though why any diabetic needs another human being to explain the dangers of donuts and hot chocolate to him on a daily basis I still have no clue. “He’s fine. He’s the only person I know who can make a salad that fills me up. Explain that, will ya?”

  “I imagine he’s injecting the lettuce with steak and potatoes.”

  “That’s what I thought too, but I couldn’t find a trace of either one in there.” He sounded so sincere I nearly laughed. Then I went ahead and let ’er rip. Because only a few weeks before I’d thought I might never hear his voice again.

  While I’d been working in Iran, Albert had been hit by a woman driving a minivan as he toured his neighborhood on his new motorcycle. During the time he’d been stuck in Chicago West with tubes sprouting from every orifice, he’d become convinced the woman had hit him on purpose. Especially when she skipped bail. But by the time he and Shelby had driven to my sister’s house in Indy to help us celebrate Easter, his whole thought process had changed. Mine hadn’t.

  “Any sign of that driver?” I asked.

  “Naw. The cops are baffled. They say it’s like she never existed. Dumbasses.”

  “Any more phone calls from nowhere? Ghostly guests?”

  “I told you what I saw was probably a morphine hallucination.”

  I thought the grinning skull that had taken the place of his ICU nurse’s face to warn him of future visitations had probably been as real as the phone in my hand. But when my family doesn’t want to stomach a reality, they do a damn good job of denying it. I didn’t have time to talk sense into him, and nothing had happened since to convince him otherwise, so I decided to go along with the pretense for a while longer. At the moment, Dave’s problem pressed harder.

  “Look, I’ve got a situation here.” I explained my theory about Dave. “You’ve been in the military forever. Even if you don’t have firsthand experience, surely you know somebody who has an idea how to get him through this. Someone who’s dealt with guys who’ve been taken hostage or spent time as prisoners of war?”

  We sat in silence for so long I began to wonder if I’d lost the signal. “Hello?”

  “Goddammit, I’m sorry, Jazzy. So sorry to have brought you and your brother to this spot.”

  I was so shocked I plopped down on the toilet. Thank God its last user had dropped the lid or I’d have sunk to the bottom. Thing was, Albert didn’t know the half of it. If he had, he’d probably be on his knees blubbering. Yuck. “We’re grown-ups, Dad. If we’d wanted to do anything different, we would’ve.”

  He took a breath. I could almost hear him pulling himself together. Old guys pop like bubble wrap. Especially marines. “Yeah, you know what, there are a couple of people I could call.” There, that assured tone in his voice that had gone missing after his forced retirement. It kept me calling him, asking for small favors that others could have done for me. Well, I had to admit, he’d pulled a few strings lately that had helped my missions skip right along.

  That’s what I told myself. But there was still a little girl inside me, her swing set virtually hidden behind a tall, green hedge. Usually I could only see the tips of her white shoes and the matching bow in her hair as she pumped her swing high enough to top the shrubbery and shriek a message that might, or might not, be heard over the heavy droning of my heart and its various connections. Just now I actually saw a red curl flutter in the breeze of her whoosh upward as she called out, “Maybe he loves you after all.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  When I returned to the sitting room the men had stopped talking. It felt like they’d been waiting for me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I would like to speak to Blas,” said Vayl. “Can you take me to the place where you found him?”

  I shrugged. “Sure. But I doubt he’s still there. I got the feeling he was hiding from them as much as I was.”

  “Perhaps, then, you could follow his scent?”

  “I can try.” I wasn’t holding out much hope though. With camouflage like his, I’d be more likely to pick up a physical clue.

  As we walked toward the door I realized Dave wasn’t with us. “You’re staying?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Yeah.” That was it. No other explanation. I swallowed the surge of panic that wanted to jump out
and start screaming, “Don’t go searching for liquor! You don’t need to get blasted! Help’s on the way!”

  I said, “Okay.” I turned to go. And then it hit me. One of those evil thoughts siblings get because, well, that’s what we do. Looking over my shoulder I said, “You know, since you have some free time, maybe you could . . . never mind.”

  “What?”

  “Well, it’s just that, all those extra calories you’ve been drink—I mean—not burning off have kind of settled on your gut. I didn’t want to mention anything,” I said as Dave’s hand stole to his midsection. “But the general pointed out that you’d lost a few steps training-wise.” I laughed and waved my hand. “I’m sure it’s nothing switching to light beer won’t cure.”

  “I am sure Jasmine is right,” Vayl said from behind me. “Cassandra told me once she likes her men pudgy. Something about more to love?”

  We left Dave trying to pinch an inch off his battle-hardened frame. As soon as we were out of earshot I said, “So, do you want to give me odds?”

  “On which side are you betting?” asked Vayl.

  “I’m putting two bucks on the Special Ops commander to do push-ups and squat thrusts the whole time we’re gone.”

  Vayl’s lips quirked. “You are a devious woman.”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  I led Vayl to the closet, which, as I’d expected, was empty. He crouched by the open door. “Blas was just sitting here when you walked in?”

  “Yeah. But I’m not sure he came through the same door. There’s another opening.” I showed him the one I’d found during my claustrophobic search. It looked crude, the sides curvy, the edges uneven. Definitely not a planned part of the architecture.

  “So did he exit by it?” Vayl asked.

  I spent some time in the doorway before crawling into the closet, closing my eyes to better focus my extra sense. “Yeah, I think so.”

  Vayl dropped to his knees beside me. “Then let us go after him.”

  Vayl’s shoulders would fit comfortably on a linebacker. Or a Brahma bull. No way could we share that space without rubbing up against each other in ways that felt uncomfortably intimate. Suddenly the closet shrank like tight jeans in a hot wash.

  I leaned back, trying to get some air, but it didn’t help. It just gave me a better view of his broad back tapering down to a lovely, firm—I cleared my throat. “Is it hot in here? Are you hot? I think their heating system is definitely on the fritz.”

  Vayl smirked at me. “I will go first, shall I?” He reached forward, pushed the door until it came free and fell into the next room, giving him the space he needed to crawl through the opening it left. While I, well, all I really did was ogle until his legs were through. I only snapped out of it when he said, “Jasmine, get in here,” with a sense of urgency that forced me to roll up my tongue and scramble after him.

  Vayl had flipped the light switch, activating the wall sconces, but still my feeling was of emerging into a cavern that smelled of must and cobwebs. Since I was trained to find exits upon entering a new area, that’s where my eyes traveled. But no traditional doors or windows broke the lines of plastered walls that had cracked and yellowed with age and dirt.

  A layer of gray dust shaded the dark blue carpet, which showed footprints that meandered around the stone sarcophagus that dominated the room. Okay, so this was where Blas slept during the day. I could tell by the scent he’d left, even though it was so faint it read like he hadn’t snoozed there in weeks. I turned to ask Vayl what had concerned him when he put one finger to his lips and pointed to the back of the room.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Rarely did I have to activate the contact lenses Bergman had made me anymore, since my Sensitivity had honed itself to the point where I could almost see in the dark. But still, they gave me that extra little oomph I sometimes needed to make out—What the hell is that!

  My mind flipped through its normal files first. Scarecrow? Suit of armor with its arms outstretched?

  Think again, Jaz.

  Don’t wanna.

  Go ahead. Step closer. Take a hard look. Yep, that’s it. I obeyed the voice in my head because it was the one that spoke to me when I pulled the trigger. Something soothing about the clipped rhythm, that icy tone. No fear in a voice that spent so much time straddling the grave.

  I shivered. I wasn’t sure what scared me more—myself, or the moment. “It’s a body,” I whispered.

  “I think it has been hung from the ceiling. Like a marionette. Look at all the wires,” Vayl replied, his voice as muted as my own.

  I pulled Grief, pressing the magic button as I felt Vayl raise his powers. We approached the body from either side of the sarcophagus, moving deliberately, our eyes sweeping the room every few seconds for surprises.

  “What’s on its head?” I whispered. I wanted to reach across Blas’s stone bed, grab Vayl’s hand, and hang on until he assured me we were having a mutual nightmare.

  “Hat?” he guessed.

  “That’s a funky-shaped—” Then I stopped talking. Because the hat unrolled its legs and perched them on the body’s shoulders. It made a horrible sucking sound.

  No hat, my mind shrilled. No hat, because no head for it to sit on. It’s a—what the fuck is that? The creature scuttled down the neck and perched on the chest like an enormous throbbing tie tack.

  “Shit!” I jumped up onto the sarcophagus in a single bound. Superman would’ve been proud. Of course he probably wouldn’t have missed when he squeezed off a bolt, but then he always was too perfect for my taste.

  “Forget the crossbow!” Vayl yelled as he filled the room with frost. “That is a grall. Bullets, Jasmine, and now!”

  I reversed my Walther’s load as I reviewed what I knew about the grall, all of it book-learned because this was the first one I’d met up close and personal. Adults the size of a volleyball, and where you saw one, since they were hermaphroditic, you usually had at least a dozen young infesting the place too. They moved like lightning on six hair-covered legs the color of cranberry sauce. A light shell covered most of their crab-shaped bodies, but in the middle, multiple portions stuck through the carapace like thick, fleshy antennae. Though these were vulnerable areas, they also allowed the grall to attach themselves through a set of dagger-sharp teeth to any living creature. And here was the funky part. They didn’t just suck out blood. They took secrets. And if you gave the grall the right kind of offering later on, you could get those secrets for yourself.

  I took aim. The creature had frozen to its victim’s chest, like an opossum that thought playing dead might buy it an escape. Holding my breath, I fired. At the last second the grall dodged, its squeal of pain letting me know I’d hit it, but probably not fatally. Most of the bullet seemed to have lodged in the corpse.

  Vayl kicked something that bounced off the wall with a high-pitched squeal. “There are young!”

  “Get up here!” I yelled. “I’m less likely to hit you that way.”

  He leaped up beside me. “What I would give for my cane right now!”

  “Grab my bolo!” His hand slid into my right pocket. My body responded with a wow-baby! thrill that I did my best to ignore as I blasted a couple of the offspring into meat chunks. Vayl’s chilling of the room had slowed them more than it had the parent, which had taken refuge on the wall behind the body.

  As Vayl released the knife from my pocket sheath, I scanned the floor and walls for movement. Nothing. I turned to Vayl, preparing to ask if he’d ever heard of such a small litter, when something fell past my face, slashing my cheek as it went. As I looked up I felt a weight hit me in the middle of the back. “Vayl, they’re on the ceiling!”

  He stabbed upward, impaling one on his knife.

  “Check my back! My back!” I yelled, turning so he could see.

  “Hold still!” I heard the air scream past the blade as he slashed at the creature trying to chew its way through the leather of my jacket. As soon as I heard the piece plop to the stone at my feet I ga
ve Grief free rein. Only when I paused to reload did I hear Vayl grunt in pain.

  I looked over. He was surrounded by grall corpses. But one had dropped on him while he was busy with the others and dug in just behind his right ear. Before I could react, he ripped it off his head, throwing it against the wall so hard it splatted like a bug on a windshield. Blood ran down the back of his neck, making the four remaining young shriek with hunger.

  These were smarter than their brothers/sisters. They’d realized the ceiling offered no protection and had taken cover behind the two glass lamps that provided light for the room. I’d thought we’d have to get up close and personal to pick them off. But Vayl’s scent had drawn them out.

  I took a second to glance at the body. Nope. The parent knew better than to leave its hidey-hole. Okay, fine. We’ll take out your disgusting little juniors first.

  They came at us in a rush. I took out one before the rest were on us. Vayl stabbed another as it hit the stone between his feet. The remaining two leaped at his throat, squealing as they closed on their goal. Since Vayl was too close to risk a shot, I threw a jump kick that nailed one of the beasts square in the back, sending it flying into the ceiling. When it flopped to the ground I shot it twice. I’d have gotten it clean on the first try, but part of my focus switched to Vayl, who caught the last one on the end of the knife, impaling it like a spitted pig.

  We gave each other a satisfied nod and turned to the hanging corpse. “Whose remains do you think?” I asked.

  Vayl touched his neck gingerly, grimaced at the sticky on his hands, and replied, “I cannot be certain, of course. But the ring on his pinky is quite unique. I would guess it is Hamon’s.”

  “What? No! Hamon lost his head. Which means the rest of him would’ve gone bye-bye. That’s how it works with you guys.”

  “That is how it usually works,” Vayl contradicted. “One exception would be if you had a grall attached to your body at the time you were decapitated. In which case it would not dissipate.”