Bitten to Death (3 page)

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.”

“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.

He regarded her with eyes the icy blue of a mountain lake. “Hardly.”

Her smile reminded me of a teenager who’s gotten away with a huge kegger while her parents were out of town for the weekend. “And really, I have you to thank for it.”

“You are welcome.”

Now, why would that smooth answer irritate her?
I wasn’t sure, but she suddenly looked like she wanted to pick him up, swing him around her head a few times, and throw him into a crowd of stake-wielding priests. I darted a glance at my boss. To my surprise, he looked just as pissed, though only somebody who’d hung with him as long as I had would’ve been able to tell. A master at damming his emotions, Vayl leaked them with the smallest alterations of expression. Just now the minuscule lowering of his slanted brows accompanied by a tighter than usual grip on the blue jewel that topped his cane let me know he wouldn’t mind if Disa went the way of Binns before we completed our mission.

She sat forward, steepling her hands before her catalog-model face, her crimson nails practically glowing against the paleness of her skin. “You know, left to my own devices, I never would have called you.” Disa spoke directly to Vayl, as if Dave and I had gone boneless and oozed into the cracks beneath her heels. “I can take care of myself.” She nodded to emphasize the point. “And the Trust,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“I know,” said Vayl, after a hesitation that lasted long enough to make me think he’d meant to say something else.

“I never meant to ally with Samos. Hamon was right in that point at least.” Her tone said he’d screwed up royally in plenty of other areas. “At any rate, negotiations begin tomorrow, two hours after sunset.” She jumped up from her seat, startling Dave enough that he’d trained his crossbow on her chest before her chair stopped moving. “Would you put that thing down?” she snapped.

“Perhaps it would be better if you stopped making sudden moves,” Vayl murmured. Before she could retort, he added, “As for our contract, and the part we intend to play in the negotiations, maybe it would be wise to discuss those issues now?”

She brushed us off with a limp-fingered wave that let us know such conversations fell outside her job description. “I will send the
Vitem
to discuss those details with you after the
Sonrhain
.”

The what?
But nobody thought to translate and Disa had barreled on. “That was always your problem, Vayl,” she said, leaning over to pat his hand almost merrily, her breasts pressing so hard against the material of her bodice it creaked in protest. “You never learned how to delegate. Now, we have really missed enough fun for one evening. Follow me.”

Vayl shuttered his expression so tightly, no matter how high I arched my eyebrows, I couldn’t get a response to my
What the hell?
and
Are we dealing with a lunatic?
looks. Which meant I followed my boss into the freak show without any warning at all.

“You’re shitting me, right? You want me to stand in there, watch that . . . and what, applaud?”

I shook my head, feeling as nauseated as he looked. “Just keep your eyes open and avoid the sauce.”

His eyes snapped to mine. “Is that what General Kyle told you? That I needed a sponsor to make sure I stayed dry?”

“No,” I hissed. “What he said was that you’re an excellent fighter who’s been through hell. He basically asked me to give you something constructive to do before you throw a grenade under the same helmet you’ve stuffed your career inside.” Okay, he’d said a few more things. Like my brother had turned into a walking volcano since our last mission. That he’d hit the bottle hard, along with a couple of fellow officers who, thank God, had respected him enough not to press charges. And if I didn’t help him get his head on straight, and fast, he could kiss the military goodbye.

I reached into Dave’s jacket, my hand sliding into the correct pocket first try. It emerged holding a half-empty bottle of whiskey. “That was just to keep me warm while I waited for you two to get your business finished,” he told me.

I stared into eyes so like my own the similarity sometimes still startled me. And I felt my heart break a little. After all he’d been through, I figured he deserved better than this. But I wasn’t here to pinch his cheeks and fluff his pillows. I put steel into my voice as I said, “Don’t fuck with me, Dave.”

I tucked the bottle in my own jacket, waiting for him to decide. After a long pause he said, “I don’t wanna go in there.”

“Me neither.”

So we walked through the double doors together.

You can get through this
, I told myself.
Just don’t let it touch you
. I could almost feel another layer grow around my core. A thick, pearl-like shell that I could wash all the gore from later on. I turned away from the art as Vayl touched my arm, pointing me toward my seat. It was only two down from Disa. She’d already taken her place at the head table, which was covered in black silk and formed a horseshoe with several others around the raised ring in the center of the room. Which, I decided, I’d better give a long, hard look before I lost all the kickass points I’d gained in the courtyard.

A silver fence hung from the ceiling, surrounding the ring, giving it an Ultimate Fighter feel. I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t drop the F-bomb again, though it lingered there, trying to jump out of my mouth every few seconds as I took in more details of the Main Event.

In the center of the ring two Weres ripped at each other, growling ferociously as they grappled with teeth and claws. The wolf made me glad something solid and steel stood between it and my tender flesh. The size of a Bengal tiger, it made the room seem to shrink every time it moved. Its ear hung by one stringy chunk. Its left eye had closed completely, though I couldn’t tell if it had been gouged out or just injured so badly it would no longer open.

It battled a brown bear, which, in Were form, wasn’t nearly as cute as its zoo cousin. Think leaner, with longer fangs, claws like machetes, and jaguar speed, and you begin to get the idea. It was missing huge mounds of fur and its throat looked like something you’d find in the garbage can at a butcher’s shop. Blood covered both of the Weres’ faces, their hides, and so much of the floor that they slipped and rammed each other just trying to stay upright.

I stood motionless, trying not to gag from the smell. Was it worse that the Weres hadn’t been allowed to transform completely? That someone in this perverse little Trust had the power to force them to stop changing midway so that parts of their torsos, arms, and legs still maintained a semblance of humanity and therefore a horrible vulnerability to animal attack? Was I more revolted by the members’ loud cheering of their chosen fighters along with the exchange of euro notes when side bets were won or lost? Or was I the most disgusted that, facing some real wicked shit, my mind still focused on maintaining the illusion of overwhelming strength we’d begun to create outside, realizing that I’d be utterly humiliated if I puked, or worse, fainted?

Genti and Koren distracted me from my internal mayhem, their jubilant screams jerking my head to the right, where they stood on their seats, cheering the werewolf to victory. Rastus stood beside them, saving the sliver of voice that had returned to him. Just as juiced, he demonstrated his support by slamming his fist against the table so that all the plates and silver jumped like frightened servants. Even as I noted their positions, Meryl slipped into the room behind me and took a chair next to Rastus, closest to the table’s head. That surprised me. I’d have thought, socially speaking, she’d be required to sit farthest from Disa. But maybe Genti wanted as many bodies as he could get between himself and the
Deyrar
, just in case she completely flipped out. I also wondered about the significance of the empty spaces next to Genti, enough to seat four or five more. That open expanse of tablecloth struck me as odd.

“Rip his throat out, Wolfie!” Genti screamed, tearing a chunk out of his enormous turkey leg, as if to demonstrate. He’d set his hat down in front of his red glass plate, revealing a bald head that shone with excited perspiration as he pounded the air with his free fist, shouting exultantly as the wolf sank its fangs into the bear’s shoulder.

Across the ring, Niall and Admes were talking so intensely it almost looked like a fight. Only the way Niall would occasionally touch Admes on the back of the hand to emphasize a point or Admes’s tendency to rub Niall’s shoulder hinted at civil conversation. Their human companion roared with approval as the bear shook the wolf off and followed with a belt to the head that sent a couple of teeth flying. The guard jumped up to gather a winning bet from Marcon, who shook his silver ponytail with admiration, then sat back down near the head of their table, which also had room for several more at its base. What was the deal with that? Or was it anything at all? Maybe I was just trying to avoid thinking about the senseless bloodshed going on almost within arm’s reach.

I tore my gaze from the fight cage and looked at Vayl, trying to make my face a mirror of his since I could feel calculating eyes on me, including Disa’s. “So this is the
Sonrhain
?” I asked between lips that tingled from pressing them together hard enough to clog my gag reflex.

“Indeed,” Vayl said, his voice devoid of expression. “And Disa has honored us with a place at her side.”

I pulled out my Lucille Robinson persona. She never wants to slam people against the wall and ask them how
they
like being the weak link in the food chain. “Seats with a view. How nice.” I flashed Disa Lucille’s brilliant smile, which has performed small miracles for me in the past.

She’d
been smiling as well, one of those semi-vicious grins you get from people who are setting you up. Now she banged her teeth together so hard her fangs sank into her bottom lip. She licked off the resulting droplets of blood, swallowed whatever words she meant to say, and motioned to the chairs Vayl had pointed out earlier.

“Where’s the third?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

I nodded to Dave. “My guy here needs a place to sit.”

She looked at him as if he’d just appeared, maybe stepping out of one of her personal guard’s stomach folds. “I assumed he would stand,” she said, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the men who flanked the doorway like a couple of Buddha statues. “Well, I suppose we could—”

“Don’t bother,” said Dave shortly. “I see an open spot down there.” He nodded to the right end of the horseshoe and, before I could object, headed off alone. I nearly went after him. But I couldn’t think of a good excuse to drag him back. He’d have a great view of the whole room from there, so he could provide a proper defense should we need one. Plus, I’d look like such a coward chasing him down. As if I was afraid to sit with the big bad vamps all by my lonesome.

We settled by Disa, Vayl next to her with me to his right. Sibley sat to her left. Disa leaned forward so she could converse with me. “You are so fortunate to catch us during our celebration. So rarely does a new
Deyrar
rise that we have few excuses to fight the Weres.”

I nodded and faked a smile. “Ha. Well, Vayl and I are just lucky ducks today then, aren’t we?” I didn’t clench my teeth as a new round of roars filled the room, coming both from the ring and the audience surrounding it. But it was close. I ran my hand down the side of my pants, tracing the outline of the knife I kept sheathed inside my right pocket. A memento of an ancestor’s World War I days, it practically buzzed, tempting me to pull it. Take off Disa’s head and turn the we-got-a-new-leader bash into a wake.

To distract myself from my fantasies, I said, “Vayl has given you our hostess gift, I see.”

“Yes, Vayl’s kindness is even as I remembered it,” she said as she turned her eyes to his. In her cleavage hung a silver chain from which dangled a pendant in the shape of a Hydra—the Trust’s symbol. We’d meant to give it to Hamon, but Vayl had decided Disa wouldn’t mind its masculine overtones. And he’d been right. What she didn’t know was that my buddy Bergman had embedded a minuscule camera in the Hydra’s oversized chest, one that would send images to the three palm-sized computers he’d provided for Vayl, Dave, and me as part of the bundle. Additionally, he’d implanted tiny doodads he called remote sensors in each of the Hydra’s nine heads. While he wouldn’t thoroughly explain their function, he would say that if the villa had a decent security system (and he figured, as paranoid as Hamon had been when Vayl had known him, it had to) it would be the latest in high-tech, wireless, camera-rich packages. Which meant the sensors could easily detect and latch on to the Trust’s camera feeds, allowing us to download the images for our own use. It had more aggressive applications as well, which we might, or might not, put into use as the situation warranted.

As I watched Disa run her fingertips across the Hydra’s serpentine body, I reminded myself to erase anything related to this particular scene that might appear on my Monise, which was Bergman’s moniker for our minicomputers. If Vayl wanted a copy for posterity, let him record it.

He rested his arm across the back of my chair, not touching me, but making a statement all the same. “My
avhar
and I look forward to continued cooperation with you and your Trust, Disa.”

I couldn’t help it. The smug just leaped up in me like a fat wad of chewing gum demanding to be bubbled. Now I knew why Cole was addicted to the stuff. Since I couldn’t quite keep the smile from my face, I turned to my neighbor. “Lucille Robinson,” I said, introducing myself again. Normally I wouldn’t, but this group seemed overwhelmingly self-centered and unlikely to remember anyone else’s name for long.

“Charmed,” she said, sounding anything but. She didn’t bother reintroducing herself.

“You’re Meryl, right?” Indifferent nod. “Nice to meet you.”
Not really
. “Are you going to be part of the negotiating team?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Only the
Vitem
will do that. And, of course, Koren will go.” She jerked her head toward the makeover show candidate stomping her rotting canvas flats on the seat of her chair. Good God, she hadn’t even taken the time to change out of her blood-stained shirt!

“Why her?”

“She was Hamon’s
avhar
. That gives her the right to participate in events he arranged before his death.”

Hmm, so Eryx
was
permanently out of the picture. That made Koren something like a widow. What I would be if Vayl ever . . .
Nope, don’t go there, Jaz. Vayl will never . . . You’ll probably go before he does. Yeah, that’s the most likely scenario.
I glanced at him, taking in his stern profile, that long Roman nose, those luscious lips.

The last time they’d touched mine had been during our previous mission. A world-spinning kiss that still danced through my dreams, teasing me with its sugary deliciousness. A big part of me felt like a hound at the end of its chain, straining, slavering.
Woof, woof, ya big hunka man flesh!
But we’d left our relationship in limbo. Floating on a raft that couldn’t ground itself until he found a way to put the memories of his centuries-dead sons to some sort of rest.

He’d waited a long time for me to sort through my horrors. And it could be I still wasn’t done. You don’t love a man like Matt Stae and then watch him die without taking some major hits. Although I’d said my goodbyes, I still woke up some mornings pressing my hands against my chest because my heart ached so badly just to see him again. Five minutes. Sometimes that was my greatest wish. Just to talk to him, know he was okay and that he missed me too. See, the trail for Vayl and me had never been easy. He’d been patient with me. I figured I owed him that and more.

I looked down at my plate, pulling myself back to reality, understanding part of what I’d just done was an attempt to escape. To step out of this crazed scene with its snarling, half-human Weres and screaming bloodsuckers grooving on the carnage. I took a deep breath.
Okay, Jaz. Do something. Say something. Anything to block the noise
.

I turned back to Meryl. Not that I expected her to know anything. But talking to her was better than sitting silent while the wolf and bear destroyed each other. “So, had Eryx talked to Genti about how he wanted to handle negotiations?”

Meryl tossed her head, attempting to cow me with her superior beauty and fashion sense the way she must have once subdued the nerds at her high school. “He never told anyone anything, including the fact that he’d invited the
Tolic
and his
avhar
into the Trust.”

Though Vayl seemed to be chatting it up with the
Deyrar
, when Meryl called him the
Tolic
, he stiffened so abruptly I thought for a second Disa had shoved a dagger through his heart.

I twisted in my seat, noted both of her hands wrapped around her goblet, and met her haughty gaze. The insult was clear. Vayl had left the Trust. Something only one other vamp had done that I’d heard of—ever. He’d explained to me that many, if not all, of the members would consider his departure the worst kind of betrayal. Some would even call it treason.

I turned back to Meryl. “I’d be careful what words I used to describe my boss,” I warned her, slipping my hand inside my jacket to emphasize my displeasure.

She raised her hands and sat back. “I’m just repeating what I’ve heard him called since I came here ten years ago.”

Sibley leaned forward. “Many among us still feel the sting of Vayl’s departure. He, almost like Hamon himself, was part of the foundation of our Trust.”

“Well, I am here to build a new foundation,” Disa announced.