Bite Marks (17 page)

“Miles is a grown man. He can bear this, and he will, because he knows what it means to you. Give him that option. Besides, you can always kill her later if she does not cooperate.” I released the shirt, let Kyphas flop back to the bed, happy when she moaned again because at least I’d hurt her doubly in Miles’s cause. When I began to speak to her, Vayl raised a finger. “Perhaps, considering the circumstances, I should be the one to negotiate?” My first reaction?
Fuck, no! Nobody speaks for me!
But then I saw the message in his eyes.

Trust me.

I stared down at the stained beige carpet, fighting the urge to hit something. It wouldn’t make what I had to do any easier, but the pain in my knuckles would be something I could understand. I loved partnering with Vayl. I’d laid my life in his hands multiple times and he’d never once dropped it. Why, now, was it so hard to lend him my edge?

Because I’m possessed. Because he knows it; knows Brude and what he must be up to. Therefore
he’s playing some kind of game with me. Manipulating me. And I have to play along. Let myself
be played, for the greater good. And now I have to burn every one of those thoughts from my
mind before I become the king’s stooge. But after that, am I still just the vampire’s fool?

I looked up at him. Felt the love he’d raised in me tear at the walls of my heart. In the past week it had healed hundreds of old wounds, introduced as many new delights, made me feel sweet and new and alive again. But where love lights up a dark place, it also burns. Now I knew all the ways I promised myself I’d never be vulnerable again were unshielded, and another direct hit to those soft places might just destroy me.

I couldn’t say,
I’m scared.
Who, me? Badass, shit-kickin’ Jaz Parks? What would he think? What would any of them think?

That you’re human?
Granny May suggested.

That you’ve read too many Stephen King novels?
said the librarian.

Teen Me raised her hand.
Maybe they won’t care. Maybe they’re scared too.

Bimbo-on-a-barstool snorted and leaned over to steal an olive from an open jar on the other side of the counter.
Your problem is you think too much. Do what you need to do and then go get laid. Gawd.

While I was glad to see another member of my mental crew had made the long trek back from la-la land, now was no time to celebrate. Because I’d hesitated too long. A line had appeared between Vayl’s brows.

Brude chuckled from a throne he’d built out of sticks and stones.
He’s going to turn away from you.

He is going to desert you, just like Albert. Remember how Daddy always left just when you needed
him most? And, of course, Matt…

I felt myself start to shake.

“Jasmine?” Vayl said. “Do you need to use my belt buckle again?” He started to undo the leather strap at his waist, the concern in his eyes so sincere I nearly wept. Except I was laughing out loud. A ravishingly sexy vampire who’s spent the past seven days making you hoarse with cries of ecstasy, who is just as worried that your rash is making you miserable, is not one who is going to crush your heart like a ripe grape.

“No, I’m, well, maybe later. But right now it’s bearable. Go ahead, talk to Kyphas. I trust you.” He nodded and turned back to the demon. Nobody in the room but me knew about the bolt of heat that flared from Cirilai, flaming through my body, making Brude retreat the way he had when Vayl and I had first come together. I leaned against the wall, gazed down at the rubies glittering on my finger, and thought,
Take that, you Scots son of a bitch!

Teen Me grinned.
You swear a lot.

I slanted her a look, wishing I could send her somewhere safe. Knowing the ultimate stupidity of that desire when it was clear only Evie had emerged from those years somewhat intact. Still I said,
I kill a lot
too. It doesn’t mean either of them are good for you.

If Vayl and I were asked to teach a class, and I’m kinda surprised it hasn’t happened already, we’d probably begin by saying, “Welcome to Assassination for Beginners, boys and girls. You in the back! Put that knife away! We don’t kill anybody until the final! Geez!”

“Anyway, one of the reasons we’ve never yet failed a mission is because we’re terrific liars. We’re not talking mundane, slip-a-speeding-ticket fibs. No. We mean world-class shit. For instance, if you can’t make your targets believe you’re smitten to the point where you’d like to birth two or three evil spawn with them, you might as well go back to Analysis.”

I’d lied to all kinds of lowlifes in my time with the Agency. It sucked that, once again, I was using that finely honed ability against my own people. Still, I made sure Lucille Robinson’s smile was pasted to my face when I got back into the hearse. Because my crew had to think I wanted them close. And Vayl could never know he’d hooked up with another head case. After his ordeal with Liliana he could have sworn off relationships for good. And the fact that he’d never married again showed how deeply she’d wounded him. I didn’t want to be the one to reopen those scars.

But our team’s like a tight family. Hard to fool, especially when you’re trying. So when Bergman sat forward, slipped off his backpack, and gave me his you’re-about-to-be-a-happy-girl look, I could’ve kissed him.

“What’ve you got in there?” I asked, so glad for the distraction I didn’t care if it was a bomb and he was about to teach me which wire I should cut if the Daring Defusers got stuck in traffic.

He looked over his shoulder. “Thor?” he said, barely managing not to snicker. “We need a little privacy here.”

“No problem.” Cole raised the limo’s mirrored window between himself, Ruvin, and us. I spared a thought for the mourners we’d abandoned, but apparently they’d carpooled with the pallbearers since they all had another gig in an hour. For their sakes, I hoped the guy in the coffin was fully dead this time.

When Bergman felt we were secure he said, “I promised you an extra-special invention.” I sucked in my breath. “Already?”

He nodded. “I’ve been working on it for a while. I
was
going to sell it. But… well, that client doesn’t deserve it nearly as much as you.”

I didn’t have to fake the Christmas-morning anticipation on my face when he put the bag on the floor between us. Jack gave it a sniff, pronounced it inedible, and stuck his nose back on the window.

I glanced at Vayl. “Go on; open it,” he said. “It is bound to amaze us.” Under his breath he added, “And perhaps it will take my mind off the humiliation of having to crawl inside a golf bag at two thirty this morning.”

I reached out to touch him, but a major itch on my thigh detoured my hand. I said, “I’m sorry. I had no idea that’s what the company sent. I won’t leave the arrangements to Cole again.” Now the other thigh itched. What the hell?

“Did you forget to wash your blue jeans before you put them on today?” asked Cassandra as she ran her hand down Jack’s furry gray back.

“No.”

And why do you give a fuck, Miss High-and-Mighty with your name-brand outfits and effortless
elegance? All you have to do is lift your little finger and you have me outclassed.

Without looking I grabbed Vayl’s hand and squeezed. His strong fingers, wrapping around mine like a lifeline, pulled me away from the voice in my head, which faded into a slimy gray mist as I smiled at Cassandra, reminding myself firmly that my brother had recently told me she made him feel like a king.

“Guess I’m just anxious to see what Bergman’s brought me.”

She nodded eagerly. “Me too. So open your present already, will you?” After a moment’s hesitation, Vayl released my hand so I could unzip the backpack. Movement inside made me jump back.

“Jaz Parks,” Bergman said formally, “meet RAFS.”

Out of the bag poked a head with inky black ears set wide apart and two golden eyes whose vertical irises betrayed the inspiration of Bergman’s schematic. A soft whir of hidden machinery accompanied its smooth leap onto the floor at my feet.

“It’s a cat!” I said. Oops. Jack turned around, his tongue dropping as he spied the new creature sharing his temporary confinement. I swear he smiled as he realized the potential for play that had just appeared.

“Don’t you dare!” I warned, lunging for his collar. Too late.

He jumped at RAFS, who sprang onto the seat between Bergman and Cassandra.

“This is not a toy, you gigantic slobberbag!” Bergman shouted. He shielded the cat with his body while Jack tried to stick his nose into the crack between our consultant’s elbow and knee. It must’ve been a ticklish spot because, even as I snagged Jack’s leash, Bergman began to giggle. Which caused the mechanical cat to feel its shelter had experienced an earthquake of an unsafe magnitude.

It squirted out of Bergman’s clutches onto the top of the seat and, from there, jumped onto the casket.

When it stared, unblinking, at us I could’ve sworn I saw—

“Bergman? Did you actually program in cat-snooty?” I asked as I struggled to keep Jack from joining his new buddy on its smooth, wooden perch.

As I glanced from the inventor to his prize I saw him nod happily. “I did. But that was just for fun. The serious attributes will make you wish you had a whole fleet of them.”

“What’s it do?”

He reached into his back pocket and handed me a container that held fake eyelashes. “Go ahead,” he said eagerly. “Put them on.”

Cassandra dipped her hand into her bag, did a couple of mixing bowl motions, and came out with a compact. “Here, this should help,” she said as she snapped it open and offered me the mirror.

“Thanks.” I stuck the lashes onto my own, reassuring myself that I didn’t suddenly resemble my dad’s sister, Candy, who’d danced her way across the States before the poles got too slick and she decided marrying a rich old coot who could buy her bigger boobs and a cushy retirement home in Orlando might be a better plan.

Vayl asked, “How will the cat help us, Miles?”

“RAFS is a mobile surveillance system with offensive capabilities, in that I gave her claws and teeth. And grenades. But those haven’t been sufficiently tested yet, so…” I looked at the kittybot, trying and failing to figure out just how she would launch a minibomb. “You said… her?”

Bergman shrugged. “RAFS seems female to me.”

I pointed to my lashes. “What are these for?”

Vayl leaned forward, his lips twitching. “They make you look… sooty.” I could tell he wasn’t talking about chimney sweeping. Especially when his eyes dropped first to my neck, then to my chest.

I was glad nobody could hear my heart speed up, although Cassandra’s smirk showed she wasn’t unaware. Still, I tried to keep the conversation on the right track.

“Are they like our party line?” I asked. We hadn’t yet shared out the earpieces and fake moles that would allow us all to talk with each other at a distance of at least two miles, because Bergman had promised an upgrade. Who knew that he’d also bring a cat that somehow connected with me through my blinkers?

Bergman didn’t even try to hide the smug. “Somewhat. You should see them at night. Point a light at them and they glow.”

I threw up my arms. “Great, now I’m gonna
look
like a freak too!”

“I like freaks,” said Vayl. His eyes, shining the emerald green he saved just for me, demanded some sort of response. I wished we were still vacationing on his island so I could show him how much his comment meant to me. Instead I scratched a new itch on my shoulder and turned back to Bergman.

“Come on, spill. What do the eye gadgets do?”

He grinned. “RAFS, you are now under Jasmine Parks’s voice command.” He whispered, “Tell her to switch to video mode.”

I looked at the cat, its smooth shell made less foreign by the jet-black color Bergman had chosen for it.

“RAFS, switch to video mode.”

A holographic image of Bergman and Cassandra, as seen through the cat’s eyes, appeared before mine.

“Is it operating?” asked Bergman.

I nodded. “How does it work?” I asked.

“RAFS beams the message to receivers in the lashes, which project an image just far enough from your eyes for you to get a clear view.” I gaped at Bergman. “What?” he asked.

“Dude! You never explain your inventions!” I studied his face. “You didn’t send a clone of yourself or something?”

“No!” He chuckled. “Maybe I’m just trying to impress you with my engineering genius.”

“I’ve known you since I was eighteen. You had me the second you rigged our refrigerator to dispense Diet Coke out the water spigot.”

His smile widened. “Okay, well, maybe I do have ulterior motives. But those can wait until you’ve gotten to know RAFS better.” He nodded at the cat. “She records audio too. And when you’re outfitted with the party line, she can receive that signal. You can also access all of the CIA’s databases through her, as well as Cassandra’s
Enkyklios
.”

“No!” Cassandra’s portable library was such a fascinating blend of cinema, history, and magic that I couldn’t imagine an alternative.

Our Seer nodded. “We needed another backup, so when Bergman offered RAFS and said she’d belong to you, it seemed like the perfect plan. Especially when he explained that one of her abilities was inspired by the
Enkyklios
to begin with.”

“Wait a minute. You’re basically handing me the chance to research any
other
I come across, plus enter the new events I experience, all on my own? Without one of you Sisters of the Second Sight looking over my shoulder?”

She nodded. “We’re making you an honorary member of the Guild.”

“But I’m not psychic.”

“Your Spirit Eye qualifies you in most of the Sisters’ minds. The rest are willing to welcome you as long as the title remains honorary. That means you won’t have any voting privileges.” Why was it nobody wanted to give me a say? The Greek werewolves who’d accepted me as a low-level pack member hadn’t forked over any power in their elections either. But to be fair, if I was anybody else, I wouldn’t let an assassin influence my policy either.

“Wow.” I glanced up at Vayl, wondering what he thought of this new development.
Well, he definitely
approves of my boobs.
“Would you pay attention?”