The Deadliest Bite Page 5

“How long does it last?”

  “A few hours. Usually I can sleep it off.”

  “And the nosebleeds?”

  I wadded the gauze up in my fist, as if to make it disappear would prevent me from having to answer the question. But when I looked up at my Spirit Guide, he stared steadily into my eyes, waiting, demanding a reply. “Small ones every twelve hours or so. Big ones every thirty-six.” We both knew it meant my time had wound down from weeks to days. If I didn’t destroy Brude soon, not even Raoul could save me.

  I didn’t like his frown. It looked a little too… sympathetic. “I’ll be fine. Just find us a way in that won’t get us shredded before we’re even halfway there.”

  He held up his hands. “All the citizens of hell know you have the Rocenz. When Vayl jumped through the plane portal and cut it from the demoness’s grip, he made what you would call ‘big news’ in the netherworld.” He didn’t add that Vayl had been forced to literally chop Kyphas’s hands off to retrieve the tool that would save my life. The grisly memory still woke me up some nights just short of a scream. Raoul went on. “Hell wants it back.”

  “Of course it does!” I hissed. “It only turns people into fucking demons!” His eyes narrowed, reminding me to watch my mouth and my temper. Now was no time to lose it, not when actual parts of me were unraveling. I took a breath, tucking in the part of me that still raged at the memory of Cole, his eyes flashing red, fighting the change as Kyphas carved his name into her heartstone with the Rocenz.

  If only she hadn’t clapped the hammer and chisel back into a single fused tool before Vayl set off that grenade. That was the big black raincloud neither Raoul nor Vayl nor I wanted to admit we stood under. Even if Raoul’s scouts found us an unguarded path to one of the gates, we still didn’t know how to separate the two parts of the Rocenz. Until we did we couldn’t carve Brude’s name on those gates. And it had to be stricken into that blasted metal, because with each blow of the hammer onto the chisel, the magic of the Rocenz, imbued by Torledge, the Demon Lord of Lessening, would reduce Brude to his essence. When we were done with the son of a bitch he would be taken down to the dust from which he’d come. And then, maybe… well, I hadn’t said anything to Vayl yet. But we’d done some research and figured out that the Rocenz could also separate Roldan, Vayl’s worst enemy, from the gorgon who kept him alive. Split those two, they die, and then you have some sweet revenge on the Were who killed our boss, Pete. But I had to survive first.

  I took a breath. “So how much time do you figure I have left?”

  He hesitated, his eyes darting to Vayl before they came back to me. “You’re strong. Anyone else would have surrendered by now. As it is, I’d guess you have four, maybe five days left. Seven at the most.”

  I nodded. Crept my hand around Vayl’s arm and slid it down toward his hand until I felt his fingers wrap around mine. I felt better instantly. “Okay, then. Here’s what I think.”

  “Um, excuse me?” Aaron was holding up his hand. Geez, did he still think he was in high school?

  “Yes, Aaron?” said Vayl.

  “I don’t know if this’ll help your plans or not, but I wasn’t just supposed to kill you.”

  We stared at him so long that he checked to make sure his fly was zipped. Finally Vayl said, “You were given further orders?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Noooo, Aaron!” wailed Senior from the corner of the room. Raoul waved at him and the sound muted so quickly you’d have thought he was holding a TV remote.

  “Oh, that’s cool,” I said. “You’ve gotta teach me that one.”

  “If you survive this ordeal, I will,” Raoul promised.

  “Deal.” I gestured to Junior. “What were you supposed to do after you’d offed Vayl?”

  “They told me to put his, uh, remains in a bag and bring them to their boss.”

  “How could you do that? He’s a freaking ghost!”

  Aaron shook his head. “No. Look, you keep thinking this guy, Brude, was telling me what to do. But I only heard my dad mention him once. The same way you’d say, I don’t know, Kim Jong-il. Or Bernie Madoff. But he’s not the one who gave me the orders. You know, the one who said, ‘Do this or your dad will never stop haunting you.’ That was a different guy.”

  “Did he tell you his name?” Vayl asked.

  “Yeah. In fact, he said it a few times. I got the feeling he wanted me to drop it before I killed you. But that seemed kind of melodramatic. So I didn’t.” He paused. And then when he realized we were waiting for it he said, “Oh! You wanna know—yeah, his name was Roldan.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Wednesday, June 13, 2:15 a.m.

  Once Aaron had dropped the name of the werewolf who’d become Vayl’s worst enemy (I would’ve said nemesis, but that’s so Sherlock Holmesian), Aaron Senior gave up the fight and faded away. So did my headache. Most likely a sign that Brude had just fallen back to find a better position from which to attempt a strokeinducing attack the next time I seemed even remotely vulnerable.

  Vayl had looked down at me. “You need food. And I could use another bite as well.” He smirked at his pun. “Let us take this discussion to the kitchen, shall we?”

  So we’d ended up crowded around his table for two, using chairs he’d brought in from the dining room to make up the difference, staring out the window into the backyard, where Jack had decided he needed more running time.

  Astral had taken her customary perch on the mantel of yet another fireplace that sat between the door and the hall that led to the utility room. Between it and the kitchen sink on the opposite wall sat a wide maple butcher-block table with a built-in knife rack along the edge. The rest of the kitchen had been designed in a horseshoe shape around the table, with the refrigerator to its right as you entered the room. It had been covered to match the stained pine cabinets. The gas stove had been designed to look like something out of a pioneer kitchen with its cast-iron shell, though it had modern guts. My second-favorite item in the kitchen, it charmed me only slightly less than the brick floor, which must’ve cost a fortune to lay, but made me feel cozy every time I came into the room.

  Aaron’s comment, as usual, kind of pissed me off. “This room doesn’t really fit the rest of the house. You should have it redone.”

  I pressed my lips together. If Junior really was Vayl’s son, I’d have to find a way to get along with him. And snapping his head off every ten minutes probably wasn’t a good place to start. So I kept quiet and let Vayl answer. “I suppose an interior decorator would find it clashes,” he said. “But I am not so concerned about these matters as I am about surrounding myself with fond memories.”

  That was all he said, so I didn’t know if the kitchen he’d had such happy times in had belonged to a woman he’d loved. Or if he’d just enjoyed meals from a cook who’d had a similar setup. And right now—I didn’t wanna know.

  So I dug into the bowl of cookie dough ice cream that Vayl had dipped for me and grooved on the grossed-out expression that passed over Aaron’s face as he watched his former target sip a second helping of government blood from his favorite mug.

  Raoul was the one who finally spoke up. “Does knowing that Roldan ordered the young man who may be the incarnation of Badu to kill you really change anything? As far as I’m concerned, my mission remains unchanged.”

  Vayl’s chin dropped slightly. “I agree that you should continue.” It seemed like he was about to say something more, but he let it go.

  I said, “In four days, if your people haven’t met with any success, we’ll take the path you think will most likely get us there successfully. If you can recruit fighters for that journey, we’d appreciate it. But be straight with them, okay? We want them to understand it’ll be a battle the whole way in.” I stopped there. No sense adding that we’d be lucky if any of us made it back out.

  “What about the Rocenz?” Raoul asked.

  I glanced at Vayl. Then I said, “We found out on our last mission that Roldan’s people had been guar
ding its resting place for a while. I imagine they know the spell that separates the parts, don’t you?”

  “How do you plan to get that information?”

  “Our psychic is still working her resources,” Vayl said. “But tonight’s event confirms that Roldan has anticipated our next move. And that he fears its success to such a degree that he is trying to kill us”—he pointed to himself—“or cripple us to the point that we can no longer act.” He pointed to me. “What I am saying is that Roldan knows that we must come after him, because we believe he knows how to separate the pieces of the Rocenz. It is inevitable that we should meet one more time. And he is terrified of the outcome.”

  “So’s Brude,” I murmured, rubbing my forehead even though it didn’t hurt anymore. “They both have so much to gain from our failure that their partnership couldn’t be tighter if it was forged at an anvil. That means we can’t play them off each other. And Brude’s been in my head long enough that, even though he can’t hear my thoughts, he can definitely sense what’s going on in the world beyond my eyeballs. Plus we know, somehow, he’s able to communicate with Roldan.”

  “Yes, but how?” wondered Vayl.

  “It has to be the gorgon,” said Raoul.

  “The who? The what?” Aaron backed his chair up an entire foot as he asked, pushing hard against the table as if he wanted nothing more than to flush his life, once and for all, of a group of people who spoke so casually of werewolves and demons, and who might actually put him face-to-face with a demigod who could transform him into a pigeon perch.

  Vayl, kind and loving father that he was, patiently explained. “Roldan once attempted to turn a ward of mine named Helena because he felt they were destined to become lifemates. I wounded him fatally during that fight, but I did not wait to see him die. Instead I threw him into the gutter where he was rescued by a gorgon and her retinue. She offered him eternity—he accepted. Even now, I do not think he understood the price he would have to pay, because gorgons eat death. In a way, she has been consuming him since the day his natural life ended.”

  “How can anything be that powerful?” Aaron whispered. To give him credit, he didn’t sound one bit envious.

  “There’s a Balance,” Raoul said, somewhat cryptically. “However, I believe that the gorgon’s power allows her to stimulate communication between Roldan and Brude. Maybe she’s woven a psychic connection between them, I don’t know.”

  “She’s a damn demigod. She can do pretty much what she pleases,” I muttered.

  “So we agree that the gorgon is the mediator between Jaz’s enemy and mine, bringing them into a partnership designed to destroy us both,” Vayl said.

  Raoul grimaced. “So much for the element of surprise.”

  Aaron had crossed his arms over his chest like he needed a big hug and sure as shit nobody else was gonna give him one. Now he said, “Well, that’s just great. Your enemies have the inside scoop. Which means they probably already know I didn’t kill Vayl. So when I show up at Roldan’s door with a bag full of dirt and rags, he’s going to kill me. Then I’m going to end up in that freakshow you call the Thin for the rest of eternity! Because you know that’s exactly where that Brude son of a bitch threatened to send me if I failed!”

  I smiled at him. “I like you better when you swear.”

  His jaw dropped.

  Vayl tched. “Jasmine. Do not encourage him.” He set his empty mug on the table. Which reminded me to take a couple more spoonfuls of ice cream. Then he said, “First of all, Brude would have brought you to the Thin regardless of whether or not you succeeded in killing me. He is raising an army. He needs bodies. But, while you are alive, you really should have more confidence in our abilities. Very well-respected officials pay us to keep people just like you alive and happy every single day.”

  “Not lately,” I muttered, thinking darkly of the three senators on our Oversight Committee.

  Vayl’s lip twitched as he went on. “So, while we understand that Roldan is expecting us, of course we are not going to appear on his doorstep with a gift basket.”

  “I’d like to send a gift basket to—”

  Raoul frowned at me. “Jaz, seriously, eat your frozen cookie dough.”

  I licked some ice cream off my spoon, which might or might not have been interpreted as sticking my tongue out at my Spirit Guide, as Vayl finished. “Roldan has no idea I am still alive and will not hear from Brude because we know a psychic who will help Jasmine block his emanations completely.”

  He nodded to me, giving me leave to call Cassandra, who sure as hell did know the trick. I might’ve been surprised to learn that once, but this chick had ducked a deal she’d made with a demon for five hundred years. Of course she’d studied up on the lore. She gave me a prayer that I memorized within thirty seconds, told me exactly where to splash the holy water (behind the ears, really?), and I knew it had worked when Brude wailed like a lottery winner who’s just watched his ticket go sailing overboard.

  When I came back to the table, grinning widely at my success, Vayl paused in his explanation to say, “I was just telling Aaron and Raoul that we will make a public production of my murder and tomorrow we will send Aaron to Roldan’s lair with the remains of a vampire in hand, as he requested. That will get him, and us, through the front door, so to speak. After which point he will hide in a very sturdy closet until we are finished with my old nemesis.” Hmmm, maybe I should’ve used that word. It sounded pretty cool when Vayl said it just now. He turned to Aaron. “Surely you find that plan preferable to an eternity in the Thin?”

  “Where are you going to get vampire remains?” Junior and I asked at almost the same time.

  Vayl sat back in his chair almost triumphantly. “A Rogue has entered my territory. I have given him several days to move on because, ah, I have been otherwise occupied.” He didn’t look at me, which was a good thing, because he’d have seen me shoveling Edy’s Slow Churned into my gullet so fast that I gave myself brain freeze.

  “Ahh!” I smacked my hand against my forehead.

  “Jaz!” Raoul grabbed my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  Vayl lunged forward and half-lifted me from my chair. “What is it? What do you need?”

  “Freaking ice cream. Goddamn that’s cold!” Then I realized what I’d just done. “Oh. Sorry, guys. No, I’m fine. I was just… yeah, eating too greedily. Won’t do it again, I promise.”

  They sank into their chairs, obviously debating whether or not to clonk me over the head with Vayl’s ice cream scoop.

  I smiled weakly. “So, we’re going to smoke a Rogue vamp? That could be fun.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Wednesday, June 13, 2:30 a.m.

  I’ve traveled all over the world. But as I stood outside Vayl’s house in the wee hours of that mid-June morning, my dog sitting quietly at my side, I decided nothing felt quite as peaceful as rural Ohio by moonlight. The smell of growing corn and recent rain cleared my lungs and my head. I turned my back to the neatly trimmed lawn that separated Vayl’s property from the surrounding woods and fields, and studied the three men who stood in the shadow of my sverhamin’s stately old house. Vayl stood talking quietly to Aaron, their dark hair almost melding into one picture. But while Vayl held himself tall and proud, one hand resting comfortably on his jewel-topped cane while the other twirled an old-fashioned wooden stake and managed not to snag it in the pocket of his black jeans or on his longsleeved black button-down, Aaron slouched. It wasn’t even a comfortable I’m-chillin’-with-the-beats kind of shoulder hump. It was an I’m-out-of-my-league-but-I’m-plowing-through-anyway kind of hunch. And it didn’t ease from talking to the vampire, so whatever Vayl was saying provided no comfort. Raoul couldn’t help himself, he probably had a soldier’s bearing even in true Eldhayr form. As it was, the erectness of his posture could only have been copied by a straight, strong oak tree. And he sure didn’t look like he’d be comfortable if we invited him to rest on the come-and-sit-a-spell front porch that marched all th
e way around the perimeter of the house, stopping only at its fairy-tale turret that somehow made me feel underdressed.

  Like Vayl, I’d changed into darker clothes. I wore a navy blue runner’s pullover with long sleeves, and even darker blue cargo pants. I felt a little guilty for not using every single pocket, but I carried what I needed up top. Grief was fully loaded with vamp-killing arrows. And I’d strapped my vial of holy water to my right arm.

  Knowing that Vayl and Raoul were also properly armed, and that between us we’d manage to make sure Junior didn’t become vamptoast, I let my gaze wander. To the right of the house sat the brick garage, which didn’t seem attached when you looked at it from the outside. But when it was storming, or you just didn’t want whoever was outdoors to see you access the house from the car shelter, there were underground passageways. Since we didn’t trust Aaron to keep information about Vayl’s secret tunnels, doors, and bookcases to himself, we’d brought him to the party the old-fashioned way. Raoul, however, had just assumed the invitation covered him as well. Which was why I said, “Look. You don’t have to come. In fact, killing Rogue vamps couldn’t have been on your to-do list today. Why don’t you—”

  “You’re not getting rid of me,” Raoul said flatly. “My job is to keep you alive as long as possible. I’d never forgive myself if some random other killed you when you were so close to freedom.”

  “See?” said Aaron. “Even he thinks vampires are monsters!”

  “That’s not what I said,” Raoul corrected him. “Stop trying your lawyer talk on me, boy. I have no patience for half-truths and hidden lies.”

  As I quietly admired the way Raoul had put the little bigot in his place, Vayl spoke in a quiet voice that demanded the kind of attention that even the crickets had to respect. “Aaron, when you were Rom and your name was Badu, it used to infuriate you when people called you a gypsy. They did not mean the word kindly. And you did not understand why the accident of your birth should pin such hatred upon you that you were once arrested for walking down the street in the company of a local girl.” He paused, looked down at the cane that had accompanied him through much of the past two centuries. The tigers that stalked down its length kept their judgments to themselves as he said, “The boy you were would spit on the man you have become.”