Bite Marks (18 page)

“I am fully aware.” He leaned over to whisper, “I have never made love to a Sister of the Second Sight.

Find out if they have a catalog, would you? Perhaps you could order something in the way of a bustier and high heels?”

I stared into those bright green eyes and couldn’t find a shred of humor.
Son of a bitch! He’s serious!

“Oh, for chrissake.” I didn’t know if I was pissed at him for totally veering off subject or at myself for the blush that burned my cheeks. I pinned my attention on Bergman, who would never mix business with pleasure. Or pleasure with pleasure, for that matter. “So, besides the information it’s toting, how is the cat like the
Enkyklios
?”

Bergman leaned forward, rubbing his hands on his knees with excitement. “Remember the first time Cassandra showed us one of the stories from it? How all the glass balls kept rearranging themselves, changing shape as they searched for the information she wanted?” How could I forget? That story had played out the personal tragedy that still sometimes woke me up screaming. I cleared my throat. “I remember.”

“Considering the tight spaces you might need RAFS to slip into, I thought it would be helpful if she could change shapes the way the
Enkyklios
does. So I asked Cassandra to help me imbue her with some special qualities—”

I held up my hand. “Wait a second. You mean she’s a
magical
robot?” He winced. “It’s not like she’s going to pull out a wand and start zapping mice into oblivion. But, yeah, she can rearrange her anatomy in… Here, let me demonstrate. Call her.” I whistled. Jack wheeled around, put his front paws up on my legs, and shoved his face into mine.

“Dude, what have you been eating? No, don’t tell me.” I reached into my jacket pocket and found a Milk-Bone. “Here. Pretend you’re brushing your teeth.” As if I needed further evidence that he deserved lapdog privileges, he jumped into the seat beside me, curled into the smallest ball he could manage (mega-beach), and began chomping at his treat.

Bergman waited until Jack was settled before saying, “Obviously RAFS doesn’t respond to whistling.

She’s a
cat.
Try calling her name.”

“Come here, RAFS.”

“You could be sweeter.”

“She’s made of metal.”

“And other stuff!”

“Look, she came when I called,” I said, motioning to the robokitty, who’d climbed onto Vayl’s shoulder right next to me.

“Jaz!” Bergman wasn’t whining. Quite.

I rolled my eyes at Vayl.
Seriously? I have to make nice with Bergman’s walking camera?

Since we’d been working together long enough to read every nuance of each other’s expressions, he got the message instantly. His response?
Yes.

And I thought the neurotic in him wouldn’t piss me off until we’d at least gotten to the rental
house.

Vayl’s lips rose a couple of millimeters. In anyone else it would’ve been a grin.

I said, “Fine, I’ll pretend she’s going to stalk off in a huff if I give her any sass.” I leaned back to get a better view, making sure I gave Jack a good petting as I did so he wouldn’t feel left out if he noticed me paying attention to another “animal.”

The sound her innards made tried to be a purr, though it reminded me more of computer fans than contented cat. Up close, her eyes seemed the most real, even when her pupils expanded and contracted to fine-tune her video feed. I reached out to touch her, poised to pull back in case she swiped at my hand, but she allowed me to run a finger down her front leg. It felt metallic but yielding, reminding me of the alien costumes on a bad Sci Fi Channel movie.

“RAFS doesn’t fit you,” I murmured. “It’s probably an acronym for some impossibly long and hard to pronounce gearhead title.”

“Hey!” objected Bergman, but weakly, because it was true.

Ignoring him, I went on. “You need a space-age name. One I wouldn’t be surprised to hear if Captain Kirk landed on your planet and found you rubbing up against his leg right before you disintegrated the henchmen he’d brought along just in case. Let’s see…”

“How about Pluto?” suggested Cassandra.

“You’re not naming my best-yet invention after a demoted planet!” Bergman objected.

“I had a great deal to do with the success of your invention!” Cassandra reminded him.

“I never said you didn’t!”

“Stop!” I yelled. “You two are giving me flashbacks to when I had to give you time-outs. Show me you’ve matured so I don’t have to call a nanny!” I turned to Vayl. “Tell your kids to behave.”

“Need I remind you that these are the good ones?” He reached up and pulled the cat down onto his lap.

“What if we call her Astral?”

“That I like. All in favor—I don’t care because she’s mine.” I leaned forward and patted Bergman on the knee. “Thanks, Miles. She’s amazing.”

“But you haven’t seen the best part.”

“Oh yeah, the shape-changing thing.” I was about to say, “Have at it.” But the beach ball beside me had been eyeing Astral and realized he might have a chance to give her a big welcome-to-the-family kiss now that Vayl held her quiet in one place.

Without warning he lobbed himself over my lap and landed on Vayl’s, reaching under his own forelegs to lick Astral’s smooth back. He yelped when his slobbers melted her, leaving a quarter-inch-thick blob to roll its eyes at Jack as he yanked his tail between his legs, jumped to the floor, and took refuge next to Cassandra.

“Bergman!” snapped Vayl.

At the same time I said, “What the hell?”

And Bergman held out both hands like he’d just introduced us to his favorite new girlfriend. “See?” The black blob in Vayl’s lap wiggled over his thigh onto the seat between us. She slithered up to the headrest before quietly re-forming. The only extra noises she made were a series of clicks when her claws emerged, evidently as part of a test cycle, because they pulled back into her paws shortly afterward.

“That’s freaking cool,” I breathed. Bergman smiled.

“How is she powered?” asked Vayl.

He shrugged, back to his old share-no-secrets self. “No need to worry about that for another five years anyway,” he assured us.

I watched her lick the dog spit off her back. “Where does the waste go that she collects along the way?” I asked.

“I’ve designed an outlet. The capsule looks a lot like cat poop, so when she needs to release one, there’s never a problem. She just goes into the bathroom—”

Vayl raised an eyebrow. “The cat is toilet trained?”

“I thought that would be easiest. So you don’t have to deal with litter boxes when you’re traveling.” I sat back, eyeing my dog. His eyes were half closed, his tongue drooped in ecstasy under Cassandra’s head-scratchings. So watching his new friend turn to goo hadn’t traumatized him. I wondered what he’d do if she exploded.

I said, “Bergman, you’re a genius.”

Vayl sat in a child’s chair beside Kyphas’s bed. You’ve gotta be some kinda stud to pull that off without looking ridiculous. He managed easily. The rest of us stood in a semicircle behind him. Except for the animals. I didn’t want Jack near the soul stealer, and since the fence had weathered the blast after all, I’d let him loose in the backyard. Astral, who’d become way too unpredictable to take part in the delicate task at hand, was zoning out to some old Doors tunes in Bergman’s room.

Vayl didn’t lean in to make it easier for Kyphas to see him, and since she was lying on her stomach she had to strain if she wanted to meet his eyes. Which was astonishingly often for a demon whose back half looked like it had been mauled by a starving bear.

Vayl said, “You have heard of the Rocenz.”

“Not at all,” Kyphas said, her answer slightly muffled by her pillow.

“We left you alive for a reason. Perhaps you would like to cooperate long enough to hear it?” She sighed. “So what if I have?”

“It is lost. It is demon made.”

“And?”

“That means the most likely creature to find it again will be a demon.”

“I don’t see how this benefits me.”

“If you help us find the Rocenz and use it to carve King Brude’s name on the gates of hell, you may have his soul in place of Cassandra’s.” As she began to laugh, and then cough, he raised his hand. She stopped immediately. “He is Lucifer’s Domytr
.
Your stock would skyrocket at such a catch. We can also give you three souls now serving in the U.S. Senate.”

“Politicians are Antyrfee’s territory.” Did she sound envious? Why not? Antyrfee must be rolling in souls.

“But you would have the inside track,” Vayl said. “We
know
them. You could probably snare all three within a week.”

Kyphas looked up at Vayl, though the pain caused her to wince. “Antyrfee’s never turned that many around so fast.” She paused. “What do you have against these three?”

“They tried to suspend Jasmine after our last mission. Friends of mine talked them out of that decision”—by that he meant that his old Trust buddies Admes and Niall had dangled the Oversight Committee members from their roofs by their heels—“but politicians ooze more slime than slugs. I expect them to wriggle out of the deal sooner rather than later. I have researched this particular group. They possess no redeeming qualities. They are exactly your type. And think what status their souls would gain you among your peers.”

“You’d be popular,” said Cole.

“I’d settle for accepted. Do you know how long…
looong
, they’ve been making fun of me over this Cassandra issue?”

“It is a four-for-one offer with us aiding you. What do you say?” She sighed. Went quiet for so long I thought she’d nodded off. “I’ll draw up a contract,” she finally mumbled.

Vayl reached over his shoulder to Raoul, who handed him a scrolled sheet of ivory paper. “We already have.”

In our business you learn to appreciate the lulls. Now that we had Kyphas under contract we didn’t need to worry about demon ambushes anymore. It should’ve been a somewhat relaxing time, waiting for Ruvin and Cassandra to return while we watched the clock tick off the minutes until we had to leave for the next phase of our original assignment.

Bergman had finally scrubbed himself to a shade of pink that satisfied his sense of outrage. He’d retreated to the room across from Kyphas’s that he was sharing with Cole, closing the door so firmly we got the message as if he’d yelled it.
Don’t mess with me. I’m still pissed.

Cole and Raoul took turns showering and guarding Cassandra’s demon while Vayl and I sat in the dining room, tending each other’s wounds. Mine needed stitches. Vayl’s would’ve put me in intensive care. But by the time I’d cleaned all the blood off only two of the deepest needed bandages.

“I like it that you can survive shit like this,” I said. I taped some gauze over the second slash on his chest and sat back in my chair.

“It is one of my favorite, ah, as you say, perks of being Vampere.” He rested an arm on the table, tapping his fingers as he watched me through half-closed lids.

“What?”

Slow release of breath, like the hiss of steam from a volcanic vent. “I sit here, half dressed and triumphant from battle, waiting for you to share my usual enthusiasm. And you… do not respond.” Invitation in the silk of his voice. And behind that, pain. As if I’d rejected him outright.

If I hadn’t felt so exhausted I might’ve jumped and run. Because Brude’s wasn’t the only voice telling me,
This will never last. You suck at relationships. The only man who understood you, who could
put up with your crap, is dead. And you don’t have the energy to try again. It’s too hard to be half
of a couple. Too scary. Get out before—

I lunged forward, wrapped my hands around Vayl’s back and kissed him so hard that I could still feel the tingle ten minutes later. When I finally came up for air I said, “I feel like hell. I’m still schlubbing around in blood-soaked clothes, itching like a kindergartner with chicken pox, and so worried about Bergman I’m considering sending him home. But no matter what happens, I will always want you.” His smile, slow and wicked, let me know I’d said at least one thing right. “A shower for you, then, and a new layer of lotion.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I crawled off his lap, where I seemed to have landed sometime during our mini-makeout session. “Uh, I was wondering.”

He reached for his shirt, held it up, shook his head regretfully, and tossed it into the corner trash can.

“Yes?”

“What did you think of Bergman’s offer?”

His eyes, when they rested on me, turned a warm amber as he said, “If you would be happier working with him, so be it.”

I backed up a step. He might as well have suggested we move in together. “Just like that?” Rising so deliberately that I could see the muscles bunch and relax in his shoulders and chest, he took my hand and lifted it to his lips. Every finger got a light caress. Then he kissed Cirilai solemnly before looking up into my eyes, his own telling me things only my heart could understand. “We are
sverhamin
and
avhar
now. That means we walk in our own Trust. Together.”

“For how long?”

His brow arched. “Who asks me this? The child of divorce? The bereft fiancé? The world-weary assassin?”

“How long, Vayl?”

He pressed my hands against the hard expanse of his chest. “Do you feel my heart?”

“Yes.” It beat so slowly that only a power we humans acknowledged as
other
could move it at all.

“When it stops, I will still come for you. When I am reduced to my essence, it will not be complete until it has melded with yours. I will
never
leave you.”

I sighed. “Cool.”

“But now I have to prove myself,” Vayl replied.

I shrugged. “People exchange marriage vows all the time. Ten years later half of them end up divorced.” He nodded. “But then you must give me the chance. That means no more throwing Cirilai in my face, and no more running from us.”

“I wasn’t—” I stopped at his don’t-shit-me expression. “Okay, I might’ve been
thinking
about running.

But I didn’t actually throw on the shoes.”

“It is a start.”

“Thank you. And as a gesture of goodwill, let me offer you first crack at the shower now that Raoul and Cole are done.”