Bite Marks (34 page)

Completing the set of businesses south of the main drag, or Wirdilling Drive as the city father had named it, was a mobile home with bright green siding and a six-foot sign that yelled kippings general merchant to ignorant shoppers. Kippings sat just across from our side street, which allowed drivers access to its two white gas pumps. At one end of the building a red box with the word post painted on it also reminded them where they could drop their letters if their schedules demanded a drive-by. Less stressed individuals could follow another sign inside to the actual post office.

A third marker, standing by the edge of the road like a wary hitchhiker, pointed proudly to the sky as it announced:
Historical Site! Wirdilling’s oldest standing structure, the wooden water tower was built
in 1811 and used continuously until it was replaced by the new tower in 1939.

North of Wirdilling Drive, another stretch of storefronts advertised an insurance broker, antique dealer, Fooboo’s Bar, and a hardware store. An alley separated this row of businesses from a small doctor’s office whose window was so caked with dust it was clear no one had practiced there in years.

East of this stretch of capitalism, separated by several houses that all looked like they’d melted slightly during the hottest days of the previous summer, sat a school so nondescript it could’ve doubled as a warehouse. Two large signs nailed to the white picket fence that marked its border informed us that kids weren’t allowed inside anymore. But the building looked better maintained than the rest of the town put together. Because it had been purchased by Canberra Deep Space Complex and converted into guest housing units. Not that big a deal. I’d seen churches at home done the same way. And yet I’d never witnessed anything as sad as a school that couldn’t hold its kids anymore.

“Shouldn’t we stop?” I asked, looking over my shoulder as the school disappeared behind a row of evergreens. NASA had informed us that they’d offered the Odeam team the chance to bunk at the school, and they’d jumped at it.

“Not until the entire crew is with us. And right now I am trying to beat them back to the house.” I felt a giggle spill out of my lips. “Vayl? Are you suggesting a quickie before the kids get home?” The look he slanted me held just enough heat to make my boobs stop itching. “If I promised you satisfaction, would you be willing?”

I sighed, feeling my smile stretch toward my ears. “I have a feeling the answer to that one’s always going to be a yes.”

After that nothing could depress me. Not the tennis courts with their cracked surfaces and rotted nets.

Not even the gray pole barn that sat next to them, a rectangular extension sticking out of its side like a malignant tumor. The sign on its door read wirdilling hall, but it reminded me more of an illegal drug dump than a meeting place for clubs and social events. Especially since someone had used roofing paper to repair the spots where storms had torn off parts of the siding. It seemed appropriate for Jack to pause there to pee on an electric pole.

“I wish we were back on your island,” I whispered as we continued into a residential area. “This place blows.”

“I feel the same. But perhaps you will change your mind about Wirdilling once we have”—Vayl paused, gave me his spine-tingling smile—“
familiarized
ourselves with it.”

“How is it that you can say a totally innocent word and seem to talk dirty?” He shrugged. “I suppose it is one of the talents I learned living in the eighteenth century.” He slid his hand around my back, leaving a trail of awareness that made me feel like I’d just stepped onto the battlement of an impossibly tall castle. I caught my breath as his palm moved down to my hip. It was actual work to distract myself from his touch when he pointed ahead of us with his free hand and said, “Look, we are approaching the house.” He gazed down into my eyes, his own a sparkling green I began to lose myself in. “Shall we make a good memory out of a bad circumstance?” I couldn’t have spoken a clear word if I’d tried. So I just nodded and let him lead me past an open metal gate down a driveway that was more grass than gravel. The home, whose owner had happily vacated for five hundred bucks a week, hunched behind overgrown bushes that nearly hid its narrow front porch, which was supported by three thin beams. Two floor-to-ceiling windows might’ve given living room watchers a view if they hadn’t been blocked by blinds and shrubbery, but the yard had turned bummer-brown, so I called the loss minimal. Bricks of various shades of red tried to provide some architectural interest, but they couldn’t hide the fact that it was just a boring old ranch with a roof that needed replacing in a setting that had seen prettier days. Not much jumped into view at night, but I’d seen the Realtor’s pictures attached to the rental agreement. They, along with satellite shots, had revealed a help-me-I’m-dying neighborhood on the edge of town with this house at its western tip. A thin stand of acacia surrounded it, and beyond that a series of roo-chomped hills led up to the tree-dotted slopes of Mount Tennent.

No surprise, I guess, that Vayl couldn’t make the home’s old lock cooperate. He jerked the key back and forth so violently I said, “You’re about to snap that, you know.”

“The door will not open.”

“I noticed.”

He jerked the key out, looked over his shoulder as if to see whether or not our crew had caught up to us. And then he kicked the door in.

“Vayl!”

“I will replace it before we leave.” He handed me his cane and swept me into his arms, which would’ve been sooo romantic. Except I was also holding a leash and carrying a bag full of lethal over one shoulder.

Plus, I
knew
my feet would make it through the doorway but my head would bang the frame like an oversized dresser. So, uh, I’ll admit to some flailing on my part before I finally decided to drop the leash.

At which point Jack chased Astral straight into the dining room, Vayl slid us into the house without braining me, and I readjusted my weapons bag. Except I miscalculated my allotted space and ended up hitting him in the jaw. Probably with my sawed off shotgun.

“Shit! I’m sorry! I was just—”

He shook his head. Worked his chin back and forth a couple of times. “It is fine. Just”—he glanced down at me—“do not move. All right?”

“Okay.” I searched his face for bruises, thought I saw a line of purple rise, and just as quickly fall.

“Good thing you’re a quick healer,” I said. “I mean, seeing as you’re with me now. You probably didn’t have to worry about bumps and scrapes with your other girlfriends, huh?” He kicked the door shut, strode past the living room, turned left down the hall, and took another sharp left into the nearest bedroom. He didn’t touch the light switch because we could both see fine in the dark.

“I once took up with a ballerina,” he said as he sank onto the fringe-framed bedspread and pulled the bag off my arm. I heard the clunk as it landed in the big wicker basket at our feet that they probably used for dirty laundry. The cane went next. Smaller clink as he leaned it against the dresser that stood right next to the bed.

“Oh. Ballet. That’s… artistic.”

“She was very flexible.”

“Ah.”

“And incredibly devoted. To dancing. I prefer not to feel like anyone’s plaything.”

“How do I make you feel?”

He lowered his head, his lips so close to mine that his breath whispered into my mouth. “Like a man.” I wasn’t sure how Vayl defined “quickie.” But even with an agreed-upon slam-bam in our future, I was practically writhing in anticipation by the time he’d lifted my T-shirt. When his hands hovered over my abdomen instead of continuing their usual magic, I quit debating whether or not to rip his shirt open (damned buttons!) and said, “What is it?”

He rolled off the bed and turned on the light. “Have you eaten anything odd lately?”

“You mean besides that mysterious sea creature that might’ve been related to the Loch Ness monster in Crindertab’s? No. Why?” I dropped my eyes.
Holy shit, I’m covered in bumps!
I jumped off the bed.

Pointing to the bedcover I asked, “Have I been bitten by mites and fleas and crap?” As I asked, my midsection began to itch uncontrollably. I jerked my shirt down and scratched until the urge stopped.

Except it didn’t disappear. It moved to my thighs. Then my back. Arms. Behind the neck…

“Jasmine,” Vayl asked grimly, “is the first-aid kit still in your weapons bag?” Half an hour later, fresh from the shower, covered in calamine and a ratty pink robe I’d found in the master-bedroom closet, I stared glumly at Vayl as he sat on one edge of the living room’s plain brown sectional, spinning his cane between his fingers. Too keyed up to join him, I left my spot by the fireplace’s narrow mantel and, followed faithfully by Jack, paced around a block of polished walnut that worked as the room’s centerpiece and its coffee table. The only lovely item in the house, it threatened to scrape my shins every time I turned the corner. Astral stared at me from its center, having taken her place there as if so offended the homeowners hadn’t provided some sort of decoration for it that she’d decided to temporarily volunteer her services.

Why is it that the things I find most beautiful are always the most dangerous?

The table, which would scar an awkward toddler or break an old woman’s hip, was the perfect example. All the demons I’d dealt with were gorgeous. And Vayl, who’d benefited from one of God’s better moods, only had to look at me with those wide, you-touch-my-soul eyes, and I totally forgot that he craved my blood like a junkie needs meth. Could take it too, whenever he wanted, if he ever decided to veer off the civilized track.

“And you have no idea when this began or why?” he asked.

I shrugged. Now that my whole sex-distraction-plan had caved like an old grave I could confess that I’d been possessed. That the rash had to be related. But he’d bolt, leaving me with a single week of heaven to cling to as I tried to keep my head above the massive whirlpool of sewage that was my life.

Unacceptable.

Maybe he won’t—

YES, he will!

Whose voice was in my head now? Mine? Or… “Maybe it’s stress related,” I said, rubbing a knuckle against the sudden pain in my eye. Geez, maybe I should see an optometrist when I got back to the States. “That vacation was doing me a lot of good. We don’t just work, you know. We work our asses off. Lay our lives out there day after day…” Wow, no way could he be buying this bullshit. Could he?

I stared around the room. Two chairs sat at the walnut block’s non-couch corners, extras from the dining table made comfy with tie-on red plaid cushions. Behind them, lining the wall like a mini-kitchen, a series of kiddie appliances in bright pink plastic invited the younger set to come in and play. And what a choice. The fridge, stove, sink, and table came complete with fake pots, pans, food and, quite possibly, dirty dishcloths laced with salmonella.

Good grief, brighten up, will you? You’re not dead yet!
Granny May chided me.

Sure thing. Say, I’ll make with the cheery if you step off your porch. Because I’ve never seen you
there before and I have to say it’s kinda bugging me.

Silence.

I thought so.

I hunched my shoulders against the intensity of Vayl’s gaze. “Say something,” I demanded.

His eyes narrowed and did that color transformation that usually made my heart go
ka-wow!
This time it practically stopped. “Jasmine? What is—”

The front door slammed open and Cassandra rushed in, followed closely by Bergman and Cole.

“I’ll build the circle!” Cassandra yelled. She pointed a double-edged short sword I hadn’t realized she owned at Cole and said, “You secure all the entrances. Bergman!”

“Yeah!”

She yanked the chairs to the wall by the fireplace and shoved the walnut block beside them, leaving a clear spot in the center of the room. “Fill Jaz in so she can see if Astral has any ideas.” As Miles nodded and Cassandra dove for the bedroom, Cole paused long enough to say, “Nice getup, Jaz. What are you, the Ghost of Christmas Alcoholic?”

I looked down at the robe, which, okay, maybe it was a little on the Betty Ford Clinic side. But I couldn’t help my lotion-covered legs. Could I?

“What is going on?” Vayl demanded, gripping his cane by the middle like he’d be banging heads with it if he didn’t get some quick answers.

Bergman ticked off the facts on shaking fingers. “Jaz has an unexplained rash. You’re angry about something. And I can’t believe I let Pete convince me not to set up an alarm system.” He began to mimic our supervisor—badly. “It’s not that kind of mission, Miles. All you need to do is bring your phenomenal brain and a few—”

“Bergman!” Vayl’s voice, deep as a roll of thunder, shoved him back on track.

He seesawed his hat until I thought he’d rubbed all the skin off his forehead. Then he said, “Okay. We were just driving away from Crindertab’s when Cassandra’s demon crossed the street behind us. Cole liked the looks of her and slowed down. That’s how we saw. She grabbed one of the old men who’d left at the same time as us. Pulled him right out of his car. I don’t know what she said to him, but when he shook his head she”—Bergman blinked really fast and practically twisted his mouth sideways to force back the tears—“she punched her fist up through the bottom of his jaw and ripped out his tongue.” Vayl let his cane ram the floor. “Evil bitch.”

Bergman nodded, rubbing his hand across his mouth as if to confirm that all his parts were still there.

“Cassandra screamed, and that’s when the demon recognized her and tried to grab her. So Cole backed the Wheezer into her. She went flying and we booked.”

“Wait,” I said, holding up both hands. “You called her
Cassandra’s
demon. You mean this is the same one she summoned to kill the scumbag farmer who raped her? The demon she broke the contract with over five hundred years ago and has been ducking ever since?” We all looked at Cassandra, who’d stepped into the hall to listen. She gulped. Nodded.

And I thought
I
had problems.

Vayl, an island of calm among three adults running around like they were about to be hit by an asteroid, asked the most pertinent question I’d heard yet. “Where is the demon now?” Bergman said, “Hopefully she’s still rolling on the road in front of the post office.”