The Deadliest Bite (23 page)

“Your kid’s in southern Spain,” Dave insisted. “That at least I could figure out from the writing on the side of the truck.” I recognized the tone in his voice. He was starting to get pissed. Which meant he’d dug in his heels. But Vayl had spent enough time with me to know how to handle Parks stubbornness.

“Al right, then,” Vayl said, so calmly that Dave blinked and pul ed in his just-try-to-change-my-mind attitude. “My firstborn is riding a motorcycle toward a semi truck in the southernmost region of Spain. Can he see the truck or is it blocked from his view?”

“He’s looking right at it.”

“Is he on a blind curve?”

“No. It’s a—wel .” Dave’s pause brought Vayl up in his seat. “It’s so wide it doesn’t even seem like a road. More like a runway.”

“Can you see the edges?” asked Vayl. “Are there planes? Do you see more semi trucks?”

“People,” Dave final y answered after a lot of thought. “Temporary viewing stands ful of people.

And some of them are in uniform.” His face suddenly lit up like he’d been granted his dearest wish. “I know the place! It’s our air base in Morón!”

“US soil,” Vayl murmured. “Hanzi is on US soil. But I stil do not understand what you have seen.”

“Me either. Maybe your kid’s demonstrating some new military weapon or something. Doesn’t matter. We’ve gotta get there before he turns himself into Hanzi-sauce.”

“Wel said.” Vayl tapped at his earpiece. “Cole, Jasmine’s car wil do one hundred and eighty miles an hour without even a shimmy. Surely you could get your contraption to move somewhat faster than sixty?”

Our bus driver had been humming an old Alabama tune cal ed “Dixieland Delight,” belting out the lyrics when he wasn’t blowing bubbles and popping them into our receivers. At the moment he was singing, “Hold her up tight, make a little lovin’/A little turtledovin’ on a Mason-Dixon night.” He cleared his throat and pronounced, with a Bil Cosby–esque twang in his voice, “Fathers should al be regularly tranquilized the minute their children turn thirteen. And what I mean by that is, if I go any faster, I’m pretty sure the chassis of this old bug wil disintegrate, at which time Bergman wil go flying out the back like a paper napkin.”

Cole sang another couple of bars from his chosen tune. Then he stopped to say, “So tel us, Vayl, since you’re old enough to have legitimately turtledoved, and the guys in Alabama seem pretty psyched about the idea, is it everything it’s cracked up to be? Also, can you turtledove just any girl?

Or does she have to have a certain, shal we say, generously mounded upper quadrant?” Despite the shade Vayl’s face had reddened to, Dave chuckled. “Wouldn’t quadrant be referring to four boobs? That’s kinda sci-fi, Cole, even for you.”

Cole said, “I would total y go there. For my country’s sake, of course.” Vayl blew an irritated breath out his nose. It was so close to the snort a pissed-off bul makes just before he charges that I was amazed Cole kept the tour bus moving in a straight line. I figured even he was smart enough to change the subject while our leader was so anxious about Hanzi’s safety, but before he could do anything that smart, Vayl sat back, his entire posture relaxing as he looked at me like he’d only just seen me for the first time that day. It was like he suddenly realized that Cole wasn’t trying to piss him off at al , that he just wanted to help him get through the trip so that by the end he stil possessed at least a shred of sanity.

He said, “I cannot imagine anyone of your temperament taking the time to turtledove a lady.

However, if you ever manage to slow down long enough to enjoy the finer moments of seduction, remember that a woman’s body is like fine art, to be taken in by al the senses until she is enveloped in them so completely that she is no longer separate from you.” Because holding Vayl’s eyes would probably lead to a fatal accident, I was that distracted, I glanced in the rearview and noticed Dave sitting in rapt attention, taking mental notes with his sharp little brain pencil because he knew the master rarely spoke, and he’d better not blow this chance to file away a few precious pointers. Given his attitude and the total lack of comment by Cole, Bergman, Raoul, and Aaron, I figured al of them felt pretty much the same about this moment. Which made me want to sit up straight, tap the back of the seat, and announce, “Gentlemen, there wil be a test later. Try not to muff it.” But then they’d al giggle at my terrible pun and forget everything they’d learned in the past thirty seconds. And I just couldn’t do that to the women in their lives. So I kept my mouth shut and basked in the glow that was part of being Vayl’s lucky girl.

Cole said, “Vayl, I bow to you. Look over your shoulder. See? My forehead’s touching the steering wheel. As for moving faster? At this rate we’l make our destination in, like, thirty-nine hours.

Maybe more, because Jack has told me he’l have to stop to pee at some point.
I
wil just crank open a window when the urge strikes—you’re welcome, by the way. Bottom line? I suggest you settle in.” Vayl turned back to Dave. “That wil not do.”

“We could fly,” Dave said. “That would cut our time to about eight hours, but when you count ticket-buying time, security checkpoints, stopovers, that kind of thing, it would expand to twice that.

Plus we have the animals and gear that would have to be dealt with so it’s kind of a wash.” Vayl spun to me. “Jasmine, we need another door.”

“What do I look like, some kind of genie? Holy crap, the last one practical y fried my eyebrows from the inside!”

When he simply looked at me, not pouting, not pleading, just waiting for me to put myself in his shoes and understand his need, I sighed. “I can take you to another plane, like Raoul’s apartment, maybe. But then when you step back out of the door, it’s going to drop you pretty much where you started. That’s been the way they’ve worked ever since I could see the damned things.” Vayl touched his ear again, a gesture I was beginning to find charming in a
Star Trek
–ian kind of way. He said, “Raoul, you could do it. You could take us to your penthouse, and from there you can descend to any spot on Earth. You could drop us right into the path of Hanzi’s motorcycle.” Raoul had been sitting quietly beside his window in the bus, staring out at the darkened countryside of what I was pretty sure was now northern Croatia. Later Cole told me that Astral had curled up in Raoul’s lap and he’d been petting her as if she were his own cat. Apparently they’d bonded during the time I’d loaned her to him as a prop to help him net a date. Now his voice seemed to come from the bottom of a lake, dark and mysterious as the creatures that swam there as he said, “I could, but I won’t. This is one event I cannot interfere with.”

“So you know what’s going to happen?” I asked.

No answer.

“Then I’l take that as a yes.”

Stil nothing. Vayl and I shared narrowed eyes. What the hel kind of truth did he have access to?

Bergman, who’d been so silent that I’d almost decided he was sleeping off his nightmare tangle with the Rider, spoke up. Perkily, as if he hadn’t just been mental y and physical y gnawed on by an evolutionary throwback. He asked, “Raoul, are you some kind of prophet? Should we be writing everything you say down?” And then, “Jaz. Astral’s recording everything he says, right?”

“That seems like an invasion of privacy, Bergman. Why don’t you just stalk him instead?” Cole began to snicker and Astral, apparently feeling she should have some say in the matter, began to speak. “Metamorphosis in five seconds. Four, three, two…”

“Bergman, now look what you’ve done,” said Raoul. “She’s turned into a pancake!”

“That’s not supposed to happen,” said Bergman. “Don’t let her jump… Raoul! I wanted to test her timing system!”

I glanced back and saw Aaron rise in his seat so he could see farther forward. “What’s the cat doing to the dog?” he asked curiously.

“Somebody let me in on the action,” I demanded.

“Yeah!” Cole seconded me. “I can’t see them from up here!”

Aaron had moved into the aisle for a better view. “The cat’s sliding over to where the dog is lying under the front seat.”

“The dog is Jack; the cat is Astral,” I reminded him. “If you’re going to be traveling with us for the next couple of days, it would be nice if you memorized a few names. You know, in case you get lost and have to ask the Walmart lady to page us over the intercom.” Ignoring me, Aaron said, “Jack’s twitching in his sleep. What does a dog of yours dream about, Ms. Parks?”

I said, “I always figured Jack was chasing bad guys across endless fields of clover. Not sure he ever catches them, but he has a fabulous time trying.”

“O-kay then… wel , I think he’s going to be in for a surprise. Because the cat, Astral, I mean, has positioned herself between his paws. She looks like a warped Frisbee. But at least now al his twitching makes sense.”

Realizing how badly she was going to freak him out when she popped back into her ful form, I said, “Whoever is closest to her needs to lean over, snap their fingers, and order her back to normal.”

Aaron said, “Okay, I can—”

Loud, brash music blared from the floor of the tour bus.

“What’s happening?” I demanded as Dave and Cassandra both turned in the backseat to see if they could get a better view.

“It’s Astral!” Aaron yel ed. “She’s playing that AC/DC song. You know which one I mean?”

“We can al hear ‘Back in Black,’ Aaron,” Cole drawled. “In fact, I think the first three lines are now imprinted on my eardrums.”

Aaron laughed. “Oh my God, it was great! Jack jumped completely off the floor. He looked like a grizzly bear that’s just been stung in the butt by a bumblebee! That’s a smart dog of yours, Ms.

Parks. It only took him, like, two seconds to figure out that Astral was screwing with him. Oh, man!”

“What’s he doing now?” asked Cassandra.

“He’s sitting down on the floor in front of her,” reported Aaron. “He’s looking at her kind of sideways.”

“Uh-oh,” I said.

My brother and sister-in-law turned toward me. “What does
that
mean?” asked Dave.

“He’s planning something,” I predicted, wishing I were on the bus so I could prevent whatever catastrophe was about to occur to what had to be a multimil ion-dol ar piece of technology and, even better, keep Bergman from experiencing his first heart attack.

“You’re right!” Aaron said. “He’s leaning over, real slow. Like he’s afraid he’s going to spook her.

And now, wow, he’s real y being gentle! He’s clamping her head in his jaws, just enough so he can give it a quarter of a turn to the right. Now he’s letting go. He’s coming down the aisle, and now he’s hopped into Bergman’s lap.”

As if the sudden groan from Bergman wasn’t an even better clue.

“What was that al about?” Aaron asked me.

“Jack was sending Astral a message she’d understand. He was tel ing her,
Remember that
time I accidentally blew your head off? Well, I’m not above doing it again, this time on purpose
.

And now he’s planted himself on top of the one man who can fix her if anything goes wrong. My guess? She’l behave herself for at least the next twelve hours.” Murmurs of wonder and pride from the rest of the crew as they settled into what was fast becoming the longest marathon drive of my life. And then Vayl said, “Stop the car.” Such a quiet command, but it would’ve easily halted a battalion of tanks. I pul ed over, Cole lined up behind me, and we al gathered onto the shoulder of the road, which I thought was a good thing for several reasons. I needed a break from dodging potholes the size of my hubcaps. I was tired of fol owing oxcarts ful of mystery plants that were bigger and scarier than corn, and passing when I felt like the next pothole might be deep enough to lead into an entirely new dimension. Plus Jack needed some exercise. So I was feeling pretty positive about this new turn of events until Vayl stepped into Raoul’s personal space, his cane nearly impaling my Spirit Guide’s foot as he stood nose-to-nose with the Eldhayr who’d saved my life.

Even Jack cut his relief time to a minimum and came back to stand at my side as the atmosphere spiked into the same realm of intensity that must have been felt inside the boardroom during the last postwar peace treaty negotiations.

“Your attempt to distract me from your remarkable lack of interest in a human’s impending death has failed, Raoul.” Vayl spoke so slowly that even my Spirit Guide could tel he was reaching hard for tact because the predator in him was swimming hard toward the surface. “Tel me. From what are you
not
protecting my son?”

Raoul’s face took on that frozen look that so often preceded a barked recitation of name, rank, and serial number fol owed by stony silence. Then his lips pursed, and his loyalty to the Trust he’d become part of without even meaning to won out. He said, “Hanzi’s fate has come to a crossroads.

It’s not for me to make his choices now.” He nailed Vayl with a hard look. “Or you.” My ears started to tingle. I said, “What the fuck does that mean? Speak plain, Raoul. We’re not into riddles, especial y not this late in the game.”

Raoul squeezed his eyes shut. The international sign for
I have paddled so far up Shit Creek I
will never smell good again
. He said, “Hanzi’s soul hasn’t evolved a great deal in the lives he’s led since he was Vayl’s son.”

“I got that feeling during my Spiritwalk,” Dave muttered to Cassandra. “But how do you tel a guy his son’s been pretty much a jerkoff for the past three centuries?” A slight turn of Vayl’s head acknowledged he’d heard the whisper, but he let the comment go because he was so fixated on Raoul. “Give me a bottom line, Raoul. I have time for little else today.” Raoul’s shoulders tightened. Vayl’s were already so stiff they could’ve doubled as car jacks.