One More Bite Page 2

  “What’s the rest?”

  “I guess I’m more superstitious than I realized. One corner of my brain is convinced that if I make some big announcement, that’ll be the same as a challenge.”

  “To who?”

  “I don’t know. God? Fate? Whoever thought it was okay to wipe out everybody I really cared about in the first place.”

  “First of all, that chapter of your life was written by Aidyn Strait. He was the vampire who killed your people, and nobody else should get the credit. Also, don’t you think you’re exaggerating? Just a little?”

  Where did Cole get off with the superior attitude? “I have no idea what you mean,” I snapped.

  “Your brother survived that massacre.”

  “Only because he was already in the hospital.”

  “What about your sister? Don’t you love her?”

  “You’re missing my point.”

  “I don’t think so. Look, I’m not trying to undercut your loss. It was huge. I’m just saying, maybe you’re not seeing it clearly because it was so horrific to start with.”

  “Did you want me to answer your question or not?” I growled.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “That’s all I’m doing. I’m telling you that I’m not anxious to make anything official between me and Vayl. Because I think that if I do he’ll die.”

  Cole smiled. “By that logic, you should date me, then.”

  “What?”

  “Think about it. Why would Fate want to turn Vayl into vapor if It thought you and I were getting busy?”

  “That’s nuts.”

  He leaned over and kissed me, smack, on the cheek. His breath, smelling faintly of grape bubble gum, blew across my lips as he murmured, “You said it, not me.”

  When he sank back into his seat nothing was left to block my view of Albert. In the time since Vayl had settled beside him, my dad had managed to extort another bag of peanuts from the flight attendant. I watched him pop them into his mouth one by one and chew them without once closing his lips, so that the sound of his masticating between complaints about his favorite team’s lame-ass secondary bounced off the curved walls of the Embraer like the wet plopping of a knife slicing through layers of bloated animal skin.

  Ugh!

  I stuck my fingers in my ears and glued my eyes to the window. The landscape should’ve cheered me. The green fields and thick trees that surrounded Dalcross Airport had always lifted my spirits. They were the part of the landscape that reminded me most of home. But the deep blue of the Moray Firth flowing off into the North Sea let me know I’d come a long way from Ohio. As did the knowledge that if we turned this plane just a touch to the west and kept flying we’d be sweeping into the Highlands, where peaks with names like Liathac and Ben Dearg made you think of the old gods. The ones who probably still lolled among the mountains, gouging out grooves with their elbows and asses, joking about how the mountaineers would have a fine old time ascending their dirty new cracks. Yeah, my sense was that they had the humor of thirteen-year-old boys. Except for the goddesses, who had none.

  Since Vayl was with me on this trip, the fact that I could see anything besides runway lights and the sparkle of a growing city should’ve seemed miraculous. But I was too disturbed to get all slobbery about the reason he’d begun to wake early, which had everything to do with his way-cool ability to suck another vampire’s powers into his permanent arsenal. During our last mission, his former nestling had tried to make their arrangement eternal. She’d literally shoved Vampere magic through him, forcing him to stay awake through an entire day. The process had left him changed. Now he woke at least three hours before dark and stayed up about that long after the sun had risen.

  This can be a problem for a guy who sizzles in the sun.

  Enter Bergman, our tech consultant, whose genius had saved our asses so many times I’d considered tattooing his name on mine. He’d come up with a lotion that temporarily blocked the sun’s rays so Vayl could at least walk from building to building without frying. Unfortunately it darkened his skin so radically he looked like he’d fallen asleep inside a tanning bed.

  I looked over at him now, wondering how the hell we were going to pull off this mission with so many variables to control. Then his eyes met mine. And when they lightened to amber I knew that as long as we stuck together, nothing could stop us.

  Chapter Three

  Driving is my thing. Not only do I kick ass behind the wheel, but I love controlling thousands of pounds of road-eating people-hauler with little more than a twitch of the pinky. I had planned on playing chauffeur out of Dalcross, since the route to Tearlach—Floraidh Halsey’s bed-and-breakfast—mapped “tricky” when you typed in the address. But Jack turned out to be a fearful flyer and needed major comfort. As soon as I transferred him from pet carrier to leash he ducked between my legs, which meant I practically rode him to the urine-yellow Alhambra we’d rented. Actually, I could’ve hopped on and he wouldn’t have noticed. He weighs twenty more pounds than I do. And eats twice as much. We won’t even discuss the pooping. Gawd.

  Yeah, I know, I’d said I was gonna adopt him out to a good home after I killed his master on my last mission. Samos had loved the malamute more than anything or anyone else he’d ever known. And why not? He was a fabulous dog. Good humored. Obedient. Smart and sensitive. I could go on, but I’m pretty sure I’d start sounding like one of those batty old ladies who eventually gets devoured by her forty-two cats. In the end, I couldn’t let him go. But Jack had come with a few issues, which meant I couldn’t leave matters in their original state either.

  “Tell me you’re joking!” Cole demanded as we sat in the second row of seats with my dog lying between us. Vayl, at the wheel, wearing dark glasses and a black fedora, glanced in the rearview. Albert sat next to him, immersed in the map he held, trying to make sense of directions that, while written in English, still needed a translator.

  “I’m dead serious,” I insisted. “I got him fixed.”

  Cole threw his arms up and hunched into the corner of the ivory seat. He rolled his eyes at the canine, who’d undergone a dye job for this mission since we figured he’d mixed with the coven while he was still Samos’s pet, and we didn’t need his seamy past coming back to bite us in the ass. The vet said he’d been cheerful about the shampooing that would leave him coal black for the next three weeks. But that was Jack, always willing to play along, especially if you offered him something to nibble as part of the deal.

  Now he regarded Cole curiously, as if trying to divine whether or not somebody who smelled like bubble gum could be a source of doggy treats. “Sorry, Jack,” said his disgusted buddy. “If I’d known about this, I’d have done more to protect your manhood.”

  “He was humping everything in sight!” I fumed. “I had to throw out my ottoman!”

  “That’s no reason to snip a guy’s nuts!”

  “He’s not a guy; he’s a dog. Who won’t be making puppies. Or screwing my shoes anymore! Yeehaw!”

  Cole shoved his hands into the crooks of his elbows. “Well, this mission sucks.”

  “It’s barely started! And I should be the one bitching!”

  “Turn left here,” Albert told Vayl calmly, as if the two of us yelling didn’t even exist. Suddenly I could hardly keep myself from kicking the back of his seat.

  “What are you doing here anyway?” I demanded.

  Albert speared a glance over his shoulder. In the fading light, his silvery hair and wrinkles seemed to disappear and he looked much more like the dad who’d continuously barked at me to Sit up straight, dammit! I won’t have any slope-shouldered daughters in my unit! Only after I’d pulled myself upright did I realize the old fart had done it to me again. Gotten under my skin like a sliver of bamboo.

  “I’m just here as an observer,” he said. “Pete knew I was interested in what you did for a living, so we found terms we could agree on.”

  “If you think I’m going to buy that line of crap—” The tinie
st jerk of Vayl’s head stopped me. I’ve worked for him long enough to pick up on every gesture, because they all come with their own backstory if you just know how to interpret them. I couldn’t see his eyes through the shades, but the thin line of his lips spoke volumes.

  Let it be, they told me.

  Okay, but only for a while.

  Good enough.

  “We are happy to have you, Albert,” Vayl said. “Did Pete fill you in as to the details of our mission?”

  “All he said was that he’d assigned you to eliminate an assassin.” Albert glanced at the map. “Looks like we take the next right.”

  “This inn is somewhat secluded, is it not?” Vayl said.

  “Better for us,” I said.

  “Why is that?” asked Albert.

  I raised my eyebrows at Vayl. “Tell him,” he said.

  I scrunched down in my seat because I knew it would irritate my dad. As I patted Jack on the head I tried to remember everything in the right order. “About four weeks ago we took out a major player in the supernatural community called Edward ‘the Raptor’ Samos. This was one evil dude. We’re talking multiple efforts to cause worldwide death and destruction. He forced a lot of others into partnerships with him. Crowds that wouldn’t normally mix it up, except maybe in a territorial dispute.”

  “Sounds like a real douche bag.”

  I swallowed a surprised chuckle. Did Albert even know the literal meaning of the word? I said, “Definitely. We do know that three groups willingly entered into alliances with him. They were the Valencian Weres, an American vamp gang we call the Flock, and the Witches of Inverness.”

  “Aha. So you’ve come to take out the coven?” Albert guessed.

  I shook my head, irritated to have to reject such a logical conclusion. “The Big Bosses have decided it’s in our best interests to maintain the balance of power between the three groups. So when one of our guys, who’s in deep cover with the Valencian Weres, told us they’d contracted an assassin to kill Floraidh Halsey, the coven’s leader, events began to unfold. Now we’re here, under orders to take out the killer before she has a chance to change the balance and trigger a war between the factions. According to our source she’s going to be staying at Floraidh’s B and B.”

  “The assassin is a girl?” Albert asked.

  “Why do you sound surprised?” I demanded. “So am I.”

  “You’re Vayl’s assistant.” He’s the assassin, said the stubborn set of his jaw. You just take messages and clean his guns.

  “I kill bad guys, Dad. It’s what I’ve done for a living since I graduated from college. And I’m good at it.”

  His eyes dropped to Jack. I saw his hand twitch, as if he wanted to reach out and sink his fingers into that thick fur, but he wouldn’t let himself. “So how are you going to make sure I fit in?” he asked.

  We’re not. We’re going to kick your ass back to Chicago where you belong! I nearly said it. But Cole put his hand on my clenched fist and said, “Our cover can take another member, easy. We’re going in as ghost hunters attending a big shindig called GhostCon. Good timing for a hit with all the strangers coming into town, which is probably why the assassin chose this week. Anyway, the lectures and whatnot are taking place at Castle Hoppringhill, which is pretty close to Floraidh’s B and B. One or two of us will have to poke our faces into GhostCon every few hours just to make sure our cover sticks. Having you along to do that will give the rest of us an even better chance to identify the assassin.”

  “You don’t know what she looks like?” Albert asked. The disbelief in his voice reminded me of a disgruntled restaurant patron. What do you mean you’re out of roast beef?

  “She’s new,” I snapped. “All we got from our guy is that her contact name is Bea. She first surfaced about six months ago, but she’s gained impressive credentials since. She’s credited with the assassination of the president of Southern Kordofan as well as General Imran Salim, Ambassador Baldric Smythe, and the women’s rights activist Safia Mian.”

  Albert shrugged. “You’ll get her.”

  Despite the fact that I still wanted to punt him out the door and watch him roll down the hill, his confidence warmed me. “That’s the plan. However, Safia, besides traveling with two superbly trained bodyguards, also kept a Seer on her payroll. The fact that the Seer never had a clue about the origin or identity of Safia’s killer means we’re going against superior skill and atypical power.”

  I put a lot of no-big-deal into my tone, but underneath I was shaking hard enough for my organs to sprint for the nearest sturdy doorway. Because I wasn’t convinced we were going to survive this mission. The third we’d originally requested might’ve been able to understand and combat the kind of power I’d described. A warlock with impressive skills and a helluva record, he’d have come in handy both in sniffing out our assassin and in warding off any surprises Floraidh and her coven might throw at us. The fact that Vayl, who’d been denied nothing in his eighty years with the department, had been assigned Cole instead did not bode well for support on the home front should this mission start to stink. And I’d already begun to smell sulfur.

  Albert, still mulling Safia’s fate, said, “Well, there had to at least be a fight, right? I mean, with that kind of firepower at hand, the activist bimbo didn’t die quietly, did she?”

  How has no woman ever yet clonked you over the head with a purse full of quarters? I shook my head, wishing I could be the first, but knowing it wouldn’t be likely. Since I didn’t carry a purse. I said, “No, Dad. Our understanding is that the neighbors heard the bimbo and her staff screaming for several minutes before the house they were renting burned down around them.”

  Albert didn’t wince. He’d taken too much of my crap and seen too much other shit in his time for either sarcasm or arson to part the stones that held his expression in its regular, harsh lines. “So Bea’s a firebug?” was all he asked.

  “We thought so at first,” I replied. “Nearly all of the bodies had been thoroughly charred. But now we think she was trying to disguise the real cause of death.”

  “Which was?”

  “Snakebite.”

  Albert shifted in his seat so he could see me better. “Why would that make any difference?”

  “Not sure. But the sprinkler system preserved one of the bodies well enough that we can surmise it was covered in bites, almost like somebody had dumped a barrel of snakes on it. And these were ones from a particular species. The most venomous land snake in the world. It’s called the Inland Taipan, a shy mouse eater that’s only found in Australia. Strange deal, because Safia and her people were living in Lebanon at the time.”

  The longer I talked about the Taipan the tighter Vayl clutched the wheel, until it began to creak under the pressure. He loathed snakes. Even worse than I disliked tight spaces. I wanted to reach out, give my boss a comforting pat. I lifted my hand, looked at it, ran it through my curls.

  Meantime Albert had not digested my news well. The bushy eyebrows inched upward as his green eyes pierced right through me. Ten years ago I’d have given up every secret I thought he hadn’t already discovered under that glare. Now I just waited silently for his verdict. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “Inland Taipans as an assassin’s tool? That’s pretty sick. Did you bring antivenom?”

  “Yeah. But I gotta tell you, it’s not a hundred percent effective. Something about the venom can sometimes sneak past the cure. Obviously we believe she’s a Medusa, so we’re hoping to kill her before she makes her move.”

  As Albert imagined the horror I’d just described, a woman who wound her pets around her hair like a turban only to set them loose on her unsuspecting victims when the killing mood struck her, he produced that sucking-on-teeth noise that made my ribs ache. It meant he was about to say something important. I waited for him to tell me he was impressed that the CIA trusted such a tricky assignment to his own daughter.

  “You should’ve brought a warlock,” he said before turning back to his map.
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  I leaned over to Cole. “I should’ve killed him on the plane.”

  Chapter Four

  Albert surprised me by navigating us straight from the A9 to a winding country road to the long tarmac lane that led to Tearlach. As we drove toward the house, I realized it may have been our first trip together where he didn’t decide on a last-minute detour to some obsolete hole like the Museum of Big Gray Rocks or the Littlest Loch in the Nairn Valley.

  “Would you take a look at this place?” Albert said as he folded the map.

  “Reminds me of the Hansel and Gretel story,” Cole replied.

  Much like the woman herself, Floraidh’s place exuded warmth and hospitality. From a distance we could glimpse orderly gardens just beginning to blossom in the promising warmth of mid-May. They surrounded a four-story confection whose designer must’ve had a wife who adored jewelry. So why not throw a bunch of doodads on the house as well? Six gables that I could see made the roof a reshingler’s nightmare. The front porch, which ran around three-quarters of the house, had been enclosed to begin with, along with the two sunporches that jutted above the main entrances, which were at its east and west ends.

  “What the hell kind of monstrosity is that?” wondered Albert as he eyed the four smoking chimneys and the gingerbread molding edging the roofline.

  “I believe that is called a Queen Anne Victorian,” said Vayl.

  “No wonder they have to take in guests,” he replied. “It must cost a fortune to heat. And it probably never gets warm inside. Not even in the summer.”

  Yeah, go ahead, Pops. Enjoy the show. Even the trees marching down the edge of this smooth, straight lane want you to believe the sham. But wait’ll you hear Floraidh’s secret.

  She and her coven worshipped Scidair, a sorceress whose legends told how she’d become Satan’s concubine in the afterlife. When you kept that in mind, you could see the reality behind the advertising: a looming old construction laced with manipulative magic, guarded by green, bushy lumps with hidden thorns poised to reach out and grab the unsuspecting guest. Backing up my observations were tall thin rocks that jutted from the earth at random points in the yard, as if Mother Nature herself was giving us the middle finger. She’d shaded most of them gray, but at just the right angle they glittered so brightly that if you looked at them wrong you saw dots for the next two minutes.