One More Bite (26 page)

“No. You were. I’ve taught myself to zone out anytime anyone brings her up in conversation. It’s a terrific defense mechanism. You should try it. You should also try not defending her. She doesn’t deserve it.”

“How would you know?”

I didn’t see how I could tell him about meeting her in hell without explaining how I’d gotten there in the first place. Which would lead to a description of Raoul. Which would end up with me giving him CPR. Blech.

I said, “I just do, okay?”

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>“No, not okay. The woman’s dead, for chrissake. And you’re standing there spitting on her grave. She was a good mother to you—”

“No. Not even close.” I strode toward the bed, each step fueling my rage. I sat on the edge beside him so the lamplight caught me at the edge of its glow. “You wouldn’t know, because you were gone. Always off defending the country when you should’ve been protecting me.” The last came out like I’d shoved it through a grater, shredded and somewhat battered.

Before he could demand to know what I meant, I tore off my jacket, yanked my shirtsleeve up over my shoulder, and revealed the inside of my upper arm. The part that hardly ever shows. Unless you hold up your hand to answer a question in class. I’d learned never to do that.

“What the hell are these?” Albert demanded, brushing his thumb against eight separate raised circles marring the smooth pale skin that comes naturally to us redheads. “Are they scars?”

“Geez, Dad, lemme think. Was I born with these marks? I mean, I know you were gone a lot, but surely you would’ve noticed this kind of disfigurement on an infant.”

He clamped his jaw shut and yanked me toward him. “Who did this to you? Tell me right now. And be honest, or else—”

“Or else what?”

“I might kill the wrong man.” Watching the color rush to fill his face once again, I thought, He didn’t know. All these years I thought he had to. How could he not? But it was like he’d leased his brain to the military and all we got was sloppy seconds. Which is okay for some things. But not so great when Dad’s oblivious to festering sores on your arm. And in your family.

“It wasn’t a man,” I said. “It was your wife. With a cigarette. Anytime one of us caused her to lose it.”

Albert’s eyes went back to my arm and he began to shake his head. Of course he wouldn’t believe me. She’d said he wouldn’t. I was ready for a big, fat denial. But all he said was “It sounds to me like you took the punishment for everybody.”

I nodded. “Evie only made her that mad once, and though I was only nine at the time, I knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it. A couple of the others are Dave’s, but the rest are mine.” I watched him worry at those marks, as if he could somehow erase them if he brushed his fingers across them enough times. When he still didn’t respond I said, “I guess I could’ve done what Dave and Evie did. Learn to read her moods. Figure out when to keep my mouth shut.”

Still not meeting my eyes he asked, “What did you do?”

I shrugged. “By the time I was twelve I’d grown taller and tougher than her. One day she came after me with that goddamned cigarette and I beat the crap out of her.”

I tried to pull my arm from his hand, to wrap it around my stomach as it lurched at that awful memory. The knowledge that I’d done what a daughter never should. Forced into it by a mother who’d broken her trust. The worst part—Evie crying. Screaming really. Begging me not to kill her mommy. It was the first time in my life that I’d understood what I was capable of.

He put his arms around mÃs aimee, patient through my initial resistance. Crushing me to his chest when I finally allowed the embrace. I didn’t cry. Those days had passed. But something at the icy core of me flared. Suddenly painfully warm. Even more so when I leaned back to see the single tear running down the old man’s face. The only one I’d ever seen crack the hard rock of

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those green eyes. “Jazzy,” he began.

I shook my head. “It’s over now.”

“Is it?”

The question caught me off guard. Do you ever get past something like that, when the scars slap you across the face every morning in the shower? I realized I couldn’t answer him truthfully.

“About the vampire guy,” I said.

Albert took a deep breath. Tightened his hands on my shoulders. Let them drop. “I wouldn’t recommend him. They’re only after one thing, you know.”

“Dad!”

“That’s not what I meant! Well, maybe a little. But I was really talking about the blood. Don’t let him fool you. Just because he’s had a few lifetimes to school himself in our ways doesn’t mean he’s like us. He’s a predator. A parasite. You strip away his act and he’s no better than an undead tick.” He nodded wisely. “No. You stick with that Vayl. He’ll take care of you.”

Ha! If you only knew! “Don’t you think he’s a little old for me?” He’d been turned at thirty-eight. And while no gray hairs sprinkled the coal blackness of his hair, he’d never pass for a twentysomething.

Albert shook his head. “I don’t see you getting comfortable with a young buck now. Seems to me you need somebody who’s survived the same kind of crap as you. Looking at Vayl, you can tell. He’s been through it.”

I thought of the scars I’d seen once, crisscrossing his shoulders and back. Even in his relative ignorance, my dad could still make a valid point. I got up. “It’s definitely time to leave when you start making sense.” I whistled to Jack. When his ears perked I said, “Come on, boy. We’re outta here ’cause Dad’s freaking about the Amityville room again.”

When I grinned at Albert he growled, “It’s not funny! That thing’s gonna kill me, you know! And when I’m dead—”

“You’re never going to die because the gatekeepers of heaven and hell will never stop arguing about which one wants to keep you out the worst!”

He snorted and slapped me on the leg. “You’re all right, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do.” I threw my weapons bag across my back and grabbed my trunk.

He looked at me sideways. “Good. I’m glad she didn’t take that away from you.” I nodded and had turned to leave when his next words stopped me flat. “And I’m sorry.”

I put my hand on the wall to steady myself. Not even daring to look over my shoulder, I whispered, “For what?”

“I’m your father. It’s my job to protect you. And I failed.”

I thought about what he said until Jack came to stand beside me, rubbing his cheek against my thigh like he thought he was a tomcat andÃas ="4 needed to mark me. Finally I said, “Apology accepted.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

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I didn’t sleep right away. I lay on my stomach under the covers, still fully dressed because I’d have to go back to work in another few hours. And because if I took one article of clothing off, they’d all go. Just lying in Vayl’s bed did that to me. I was beginning to think when we finally did pull off an all-nighter, we might need to arrange a somewhat remote location for the deed. I had a hunch it was going to get noisy.

I dangled my left hand over the edge of the bed, leaving it tangled in the fur of Jack’s neck as he lay on the floor beside me. “I’m a sad case, Jack,” I whispered. “And the worst part is, I don’t even mind anymore.”

As soon as I closed my eyes I began dreaming.

I recognized the zooming delight in my heart even before I glanced to my side to smile at my hiking partner. Matt grinned back, his teeth practically glowing against the deep tan of his face. I stopped right there on the trail, threw my arms around him, and gave him a long, luscious kiss.

“What was that for?” he asked as he raised his head.

“Bringing me here. Look at this!” I demanded, my gesture encompassing the whole of the Highlands. We stood on a flat brown trail sided by acres of heather, dotted by small rocks and large boulders. In the background the steep granite slopes of Ben Nevis beckoned. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

“Yah. That would be you, lass.” I spun, jerking my arm out of his grasp. Matt had been replaced. By Brude.

“What are you doing here?” Did my voice have to go all squeaky-breathy like that? Um, yeah, dumbass. That’s what happens when you’re freaked.

Hard not to be with those dark, fathomless eyes boring into you. That massive picture-puzzle chest reminding you a mystery remained unsolved and now you’d be lucky if you woke again to pursue its unanswered questions.

“I came to fetch you,” he said in that rich, rolling accent. “The flavor of power sweetens like honey with a good woman beside you to share the spoils.” He emphasized his point by banging his staff into the ground.

I shrugged. “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”

“No. By me.”

He tried to pull me into his arms, but I evaded his hands, backing slowly down the path like I’d just encountered a grizzly bear. “Who are you?”

“I told you before, lass. I am King Brude. These are my lands and have been for nigh onto four thousand years. But now they will be more. I have been Satan’s Enforcer long enough. It is my time to rise. My armies are ready. The dungeon is complete. You saw how strongly it is made.”

He waited long enough that I realized I was supposed to respond. “Oh, yeah. Lovely workmanship. The blocks were, uh, very thick. But it doesn’t seem quite practical. I mean you ghosts could just—”

“I am no ghost!” he cried, as offended as if I’d questioned his manhood. “Do I not have dominion over them, and e’en all the unkind spirits who flock to my domain?”

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“First of all, I don’t know what e’en means. Also, I’m waking up now.”

“Wait! You must stay with me!” His raised fist added a threat to the demand. But the voice I paused for was Raoul’s.

“Jasmine?” I turned, relieved to find my Spirit Guide striding up the hill behind me. “I’ve been looking for you. Why have you been so elusive?”

I pointed a finger at Brude, glad to see it wasn’t shaking. Much. “The Neanderthal wants to drag me off by the hair.” In a lower voice I asked, “People don’t do that here, do they? Because I gotta tell you, I have sensitive roots.”

Raoul shook his head, smiling past the concern in his eyes. “I’ve never heard of it. But since you’re not yet trained to protect that bundle of curls in the Thin, would you mind stepping behind me for a minute?”

The Thin? You mean . . . I really can’t just make this go away by sitting up in bed? In that case, if I had the time I’d build a fort between me and that maniac. I switched positions with Raoul and looked around for a big stick. Or maybe a rock. Surely anything I found here would work as a weapon. And my Guide deserved at least a show of backup, even if I suspected Brude could take us both with one arm strapped to his side.

Raoul bowed, keeping his eyes raised in case the king fought dirty. “We have no quarrel with you. But urgent business requires us to move on,” he said.

“I cannot allow that,” Brude replied. He pointed to me. “My claim is on her. She must stay and rule at my side.”

“You are such a throwback,” I informed him. “Your claim. Do I look like a gold mine to you?”

Raoul snapped a shut-up look over his shoulder. “Let me handle this, please.”

I wanted to say something really mature like, “He started it.” But maybe this wasn’t the time.

Raoul said, “She’s Eldhayr. Do you really want that kind of fight? I could bring the whole Eminent screaming down on your head, and when we were done with you not even a spark would remain to prove you had ever existed.”

“You could,” said Brude, grinning craftily, “if they were at your shoulder. But they must be scattered to the seven winds at the moment. No, I will take her now, while the time is ripe.” He looked at me as he savored that last word, his eyes full of the plans he’d made for us.

“You can’t make me stay,” I told him. I put my hand on Raoul’s shoulder. “Can he?”

“He’s a Domytr. That gives him the ability to try.”

I paged through my mental dictionary. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“You wouldn’t have. They’re rare. Hand-picked by Lucifer. And exclusive to this side.”

The Domytr and the Eldhayr began to circle one another. I shadowed Raoul, still searching for some form of naturally occurring weapon. I saw rocks, but they were all set into the earth so deep, no way would I be able to extricate one before the fight had ended. I clenched my fists, and when the movement didn’t even crack my knuckles, I wondered if the Thin had even left me enough strength to heft one.

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Brude charged, yelling a battle cry that liquefied all the food in my bowels. Shit! We should run!

Ah, the voice of reason. Why is it we never listen to her when the battle is on? It would spare us such a lot of pain. Or in Raoul’s case, a blow to the nose that seemed to break it, and a punch that glanced off his eye, but only because his head was already rocking backward.

Holy crap, that guy can swing a staff! Only it’s not just the wood talking. I think his tattoos are getting darker when he attacks. Almost like they’re being reinforced. And look at that. They’re coalescing! Forming some sort of second skin. Except I have a feeling it’s a lot more durable than most armor.

Raoul pulled his sword. A rune-covered steel that shone like sun on the water, he wielded it with the ease of a master. A lunge. A slash across Brude’s upper chest that bled so freely it began to look like he’d slipped on a red T-shirt for the occasion. But as I watched, the tattooed armor folded over the cut and the bleeding stopped.

“Your metal cannot harm me here,” Brude said triumphantly.

Oh, that’s reassuring.

Raoul snapped, “Play with someone else’s head, Brude. Mine is bent on your destruction.” He jumped forward again, smashing his blade against Brude’s staff. Something should have broken. Maybe it was Raoul’s pride. He backed away.