Another One Bites the Dust (29 page)

“Cassandra, you did great!” I said, twirling around so she could get one last look before I dove back into my comfy clothes.

“She’ll probably turn into a pumpkin at midnight,” Bergman muttered.

“All right, that is it!” I strode to Bergman’s chair and spun it around. His eyes opened, startled and a little scared.
Good
. “I don’t care if your brain’s the size of a watermelon and your gadgets make my mouth water. I’m tired of your snippy little comments about Cassandra and everything related to her. She is a member of this crew and deserving of as much respect as you!”

His eyes narrowed and I could see him start to make mental excuses.
My inventions are much more important and effective than her stupid little toys. I sell my goods to government agencies. She owns an organic grocery store whose top floor she’s turned into a haven for loonies and fringe dwellers. I make people better at their jobs. She just scares them. Who’s the true pro here, really?

I zoomed in on him, practically pressing my nose to his. “Your prejudice against the supernatural is affecting my mission. I can’t have that. You want to be a bigot? Go do it on your own time.”

Silence. I backed up, trying to gauge the effect of my words. I’d pissed him off, naturally. But had I blasted my way through that bank vault of a science guy door? I didn’t think so. For the sake of our relationship, I tried one last time. “I’m telling you, Bergman, if I don’t see a shitload of tolerance pouring out of you, and I mean soon, this is it for us. We’ll never work together again.”

Okay, smooth exit.
I spun and walked down the hallway to the bedroom. No trippies. Not once. Yahoo!

Once I’d changed, I called Albert. Generally talking to him upset me. But since I was already there, no big deal. I figured I’d given him plenty of time to dig up some extra added info on the reavers. And even if he didn’t have anything more than we’d already unearthed, maybe he could help me figure out why Pengfei and Chien-Lung, two bad guys who’d so far accomplished everything they’d set out to do, were not planning to fly the coop as soon as they woke this evening. I’d decided it must have something to do with Samos. But what?

Half an hour later I had the glimmering of an idea. “Reavers need a sponsor,” Albert had told me after I’d been forced to leave a message on his machine. He’d said he was screening his calls because he’d had so many hang-ups. Weird, but far from my problem.

“You mean, like in AA?” I’d asked.

“It’s a little more diabolical than that,” he said. “Reavers burn through bodies pretty quick. So the sponsor has to agree to provide the reaver with at least one new body for every week he spends on earth.”

During which time, as we already knew, the reaver could be gathering souls. As long as he followed the rules.

“I don’t completely understand,” I said. “I know, for instance, that one reaver went into a bathroom and two came out. How does that work?”

“Apparently more than one can travel in a single body for brief periods of time until all of them are dispersed.”

Huh. That gives a whole new perspective to hearing voices in your head
.

I didn’t ask Albert where he got his information. It was none of my business, for one thing. Plus, I imagined the story would be just as heartrending as the one we’d seen on the
Enkyklios
and frankly, at this point, I wasn’t sure my ticker could take it. But I did want to know what any demonic creature could bring to the table that would be worth so much risk.

“This reaver you mentioned,” Albert said. “Desmond Yale?”

“Yeah?”

“My sources believe his sponsor is Edward Samos.”

Wow. So the Raptor had obtained the services of a majorly badass reaver. “Go on.”

“Whatever Samos is planning, it’s probably going to be big. As in, international-incident sized.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because reavers are very specialized creatures. They only deal in one arena.”

“What’s that?”

“Triggering world wars.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

The bedroom felt too much like a tomb. It made me antsy. I sat down on the floor, took out my cards, and started to shuffle.

Albert and I had never parted on such a grim note and yet on such good terms. “So Samos is trying to start a Chinese/American war,” I told myself. “Are you really that surprised? You saw Lung consorting with Chinese generals not thirty-six hours ago. That’s kinda what they do.”

The cards whooshed from bridge to pile. Cirilai warmed my hand, warning me of Vayl’s imminent return. As I returned the cards to my pocket, I listened to him catch his first breath. When he came out of the tent I smiled. The last time I’d barged in on him right after he’d risen he’d been oooh-baby naked. Sometimes, late at night, I still brought out that picture and admired it.
Woof,
what a bod.

However, I had requested that he wear something when he slept so, on future missions, I wouldn’t even be temporarily distracted should I be called to save his not-so-bare ass. He’d obliged. At the moment he wore a pair of black silk pajama bottoms, tied at the waist. That was it. He raised his eyebrows to find me waiting.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Maybe we should discuss the virtue of pajama shirts. Although it seemed almost sinful to cover that broad, muscular chest and that luscious flat belly.

“Jasmine?”

“Huh?”

“Not that I mind, terribly, but why are you sitting in my bedroom?”

I sighed. Ogling my boss’s pecs, while deeply pleasurable, did nothing for my inner morale. Not only was it just plain unprofessional, it wasn’t even wholehearted. Big sections of me still wanted nothing to do with any man. So why did my sex drive keep revving the engine? Stupid mindless radiator full of idiot hormones.

“RVs are too small,” I said in hurried response to Vayl’s get-on-with-it jerk of the head. I explained about the medallion and my talk with Bergman. He nodded and began to collapse his sleeping tent. While I helped him, I filled him in on my recent conversation with Albert as well.

Vayl slid the tent into its carrying case, sat back on the bed, and laced his fingers behind his head. “So what do we know about Samos?”

“Not much,” I said, leaning against the wall, fighting the frustration that would only mar my thinking. “He’s an American-made vamp who came up through the ranks of a Vampere house-hold. Though how we found that out I’ll never know. The Trusts are traditionally impossible to penetrate.”

A flickering in his eyes told me maybe I’d discovered our source. “Vayl? Were you ever Vampere?” After the words slipped out I wanted to cover my mouth. Apologize. It was the equivalent to asking a priest if he’d ever been a mule for the mob.

His hands dropped to his lap. “Yes.”

I waited for excuses, but he made none. So I threw one in. “I imagine you were very different back then.”

“You would not have known me. You would not have wanted to.”

“What . . . why did you get out?
How
did you get out? You and Samos are the only two vamps I’ve ever heard of who’ve managed that.”

“As your
sverhamin
I am bound to answer those questions, but I must ask you to take them back. It would be too dangerous for you to know.”

Dangerous for you, or for me?
I wondered. However, I simply nodded and went on with my Raptor review. “Samos seems to spend most of his time recruiting allies from the supernatural community. Though vampires usually shun all
others
, seeing themselves as far superior even to vamps from other nests, Samos is known to have partnered with weres and witches, not to mention humans.”

“So is he building is own army?” Vayl wondered.

“It sure looks that way. With Pengfei and Lung as his allies, and this reaver in his pocket, he goes from America’s problem to a worldwide threat. Which makes it all the more imperative that we get that armor.”

“Yes,” Vayl agreed. “And I believe we must find a way to eliminate the reaver, Desmond Yale.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

As we entered the living room area, Vayl took the crossbow he would use off its perch on Mary-Kate. A sleek black model made from mahogany and stainless steel, heavy, but accurate, it had been Matt’s weapon of choice. And I’d carried it with me faithfully since his death. Now it held the bolt Bergman had modified to make sure it dropped its internal load once it penetrated Pengfei’s skin. I thought I’d be okay with Vayl pulling the trigger to Matt’s weapon as long as we got our outcome.

Cassandra, Cole, and Bergman, still finishing supper at the table Bergman had finally been able to clear now that he’d finished his projects, kept snatching glances at the bow. I watched them, trying to fathom their thoughts. If I had to guess, I’d say Cassandra wondered if she could bear the visions that would arise in her mind if she touched it. Cole tried to see himself pulling the trigger. Bergman prayed the mechanism he’d designed to release the inner light would work before Pengfei had a chance to rip our guts out.

Vayl cleared his throat, calling their attention to him. “I would like you three to move about the new tent they erected for us as if you were preparing for another show. We do not want anyone who might be watching to become concerned with our behavior.”

Cole looked up, wanting badly to say something, but we both stared him down. “It sucks being the rookie,” he said.

“I’m going to get changed,” I said.

I went to the bedroom, pulled Pengfei’s dress off its hanger and yanked it down over my butt. With slits up both legs clear to the upper thigh, it left no hiding place for a leg holster. That was the downside. The upside—though it looked quite formal, it had been designed for ease of movement.

The matching low-heeled slippers I’d found in Pengfei’s closet didn’t fit. Her feet were too narrow, making me feel like Cinderella’s stepsister. Cassandra owned a flashy pair that would work, as long as I didn’t mind nursing blisters on my heels for the next week. I did. So I went with my boots. Let people laugh. Next time Pete could just give me fair warning that I’d be costumed like a geisha at some point in my upcoming assignment.

Vayl came in and sat quietly on the bed while I worked on my makeup. I could tell he had something on his mind. And the acid-laced squeegee in my stomach said it would be one of those hard-to-face issues. So I concentrated on the makeup and hoped he’d let me pretend we had nothing to discuss.

The eyes were the tricky part. Pengfei laid it on thick and yet somehow made it out the door without resembling a prostitute. I managed a pretty good likeness and moved on to the accessories. Long black earrings. Braided wig over my tightly bound hair. The translator wires wound happily among the fake tresses. I took the necklace Cassandra had made off the dresser where I’d laid it when we’d come in.

Vayl stirred, making the springs in the bed squeak in protest. I agreed with them. “I was waiting for you to mention it before, but you seem to be following your usual tactics of dodge and ignore so I will say it straight out. Last night, you slept,” he said. “I guarded you until dawn and you did not move a muscle.”

I turned to look at him. Moved close enough for him to hear me speaking English. “No, I didn’t.”

“I take it those troubles that spurred you to sleepwalk have settled themselves.”

I nodded carefully. “I’m never sure with me,” I said. “But I think it’s done with.” I wanted to stop there. I tried. But a guy who sits with you for hours to make sure that your snoring doesn’t turn to shooting deserves something for his efforts. So I struggled to put what I’d learned about the dreams into words. “I’ve needed, wanted to move forward. But I haven’t been able to, knowing that meant I had to let Matt go. I think that’s why I kept dreaming of him as a vampire. Because he didn’t want to live on in that form any more than Jesse did. It would’ve been easier, in a way, to say goodbye to him if he had turned in the end.”

Vayl nodded soberly. “It matters so much the way in which people leave us. Perhaps it should not. Dead is dead. But the why and how make such a difference to the survivors.”

And I am one. David told me that
. Evie’s words came back to me now too. “You can only cry so long before it doesn’t do you any more good.” I was done crying. The time to grieve had passed. Because I knew Matt would want me to be happy now. But I needed to make something clear to Vayl. “I’ll always love Matt. Things will sometimes remind me of him. And sometimes I’ll miss him. When I’m ready to commit to another guy, it won’t mean I love him any less because of that.”

Vayl nodded. “I understand.”

“But . . .” I cleared my throat, lowered my eyelashes, trying not to seem too eighteenth-century miss and blushing like a schoolgirl anyway. “I don’t, I still feel kinda”—I made a gagging sound that raised both of Vayl’s eyebrows as I continued—“when I think of relationships.”

Again with the dimple.
I have got to find a suitable sound effect to herald its arrival, it’s that rare. Do they make portable foghorns?
Vayl said, “I am happy you have found a sense of peace. And perhaps, someday soon, you will meet a man who does not make you want to vomit?”

I shrugged, trying for nonchalant and utterly failing. “You never know.”