Bite Marks (35 page)

“Astral, I want to see that demon. Now.” I snagged the kittybot and threw her into the yard.

Huh, she landed on her feet. Nice. Too bad we can’t lock this door anymore though. We could be
toast before that cat figures out what it’s even chasing. Maybe we could block it with, say, a
tank?

“You’re sending RAFS into that kind of danger? Already?” I hadn’t thought it possible, but Bergman had turned a paler shade of glue.

“She’s mine now, and it’s her job,” I told him flatly.

I watched his Adam’s apple bob a couple of times and gave him time to nod acceptance before I asked,

“How is it possible for Cassandra’s demon to be here? She wards herself against it every morning.”

“You were supposed to ask Astral that question,” Cassandra snapped as she ran back into the living room, trailing an armful of sheets, her sword held awkwardly out to one side. Since I’d spent some time studying demons I knew what she meant to do with the bedding. Jack suspected a game and grabbed a trailing end. Bergman just thought she’d lost it.

“This is no time to protect our deposit!” he shouted. “If blood gets all over the carpet, let it!” She shook her head. “Start making knots. Rope would be better, but I don’t want to waste time looking in the garage for something they probably don’t have anyway. We need enough to make a circle around all five of us.”

I yanked a knot into a yellow and green striped sheet. Cassandra had already finished one, which my malamute kept picking up and trying to transport into the dining room.

“Jack!” I yelled for the fifth time. “Drop it!”

“I know.” Vayl disappeared into the bedroom. I couldn’t even glance that way now. Not only did I dread seeing the suspicion settle over his face, but my eye hurt every time it wandered Vaylward.

When he came out he was holding a shoe, unfamiliar enough to have come from the same closet that had given up the boozer robe. “Here, Jack. Chew on this for a while.” Jack willingly switched gears, and I smiled my thanks at Vayl, though I glanced away quickly after. If he really began to suspect I was hiding something I’d have to do something crazy to distract him. And I wasn’t sure the world was ready for Jaz’s Sock Puppet Theater.

“Cole!” Cassandra yelled. “You’d better be praying over those locks!”

“I am, I am!” he replied. “Reverend Brendeen would be so proud to know something he taught me stuck!”

Vayl grimaced at the mention of prayers.

I asked, “This is going to hurt, isn’t it? Being shut inside a blessed house, I mean?” Vayl nodded so slightly I wouldn’t have known he’d moved his head if I wasn’t watching for it. “I cannot stay,” he said. “Already my skin begins to scorch. I shall do my best to help from outside.” He came close, his hands painfully gentle on my arms. “We are not finished,” he murmured, his eyes slanting toward the bedroom, coming back to mine full of promises that made my toes curl.

I gave myself a second to catch my breath. But lost it again when he said, “And the next time we speak—there will be no more secrets between us.” He pulled me close, holding me so tight all the air left my lungs in an unladylike, “Oof.” His lips came down on mine almost like an attack, as if he couldn’t believe I’d dare do anything other than stand within his arms and accept the heat of his lips and tongue.

Just before it began to burn he pulled away.

He snatched his cane from its resting place and slammed out the door, leaving me knuckling my eye, staring after him with the good one like I’d never seen a vampire’s back before. Cole came in right after.

He kept looking at me while he and Bergman moved the couch in front of the door, while they prayed, while they helped Cassandra and me finish the knots.

“What?” I finally demanded.

“I’m just trying to decide if I prefer your chest covered in goopy pink lotion or if white would work better. What do you think, Bergman? Is hydrocortisone cleavage more the look Paris would go for this season?”

I dropped my sheet and my eyes at the same time. Nope, I wasn’t hanging out. Not enough there to do much wandering in the first place. But my girls had managed quite a show all the same.

Dammit, Vayl!

I yanked my robe closed and stomped into the bedroom. Jack assumed I’d elevated the level of entertainment and trotted along beside me, still carrying the shoe, his mouth stretching around its edges in what I’d come to call his let’s-party grin.

“Jasmine! The demon could be here any second!” called Cassandra.

“If I’m going to hell, I’m doing it with my underwear on!” I snapped.

Forty-five seconds later we were back. Jack wore a leash. I’d chosen a pair of dark blue jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, my leather coat, and boots. We stepped inside the loop Cassandra had designed using prints and solids and one sheet covered in cute little koalas. Of course, now all you could see was part of an ear or maybe a fuzzy nostril, because we’d placed our knots about every twelve inches. Cassandra walked around the inside of the ring’s edge, murmuring under her breath while Cole and Bergman watched her.

“What’s she saying?” asked Bergman.

“It’s from Deuteronomy,” I told him, wishing I’d brought a double-edged blade like hers. My bolo wasn’t going to do me any good for the work that might be ahead of us. Did I have time to call Raoul?

Naw, my Spirit Guide labored under some strict rules. Which meant he probably wouldn’t be allowed to interfere in a mess like this. Not when Cassandra had willingly entered into the contract with the demon we were arming against to start with.

Not that I blamed her. If I’d been in her shoes, slave to a reeking sleaze like Anastas Ocacio, forced to submit to his perversions, I’d have asked the devil to drag his body over the sharpest rocks on his land too. The fact that she’d been clever enough to find a Haitian holy man to help her protect her soul before the demon could throw it into hell afterward just raised my respect for her.

Bergman’s wide eyes said he was impressed with her as well.
He
sure didn’t know what to say when demons were coming. “She’s quoting the Bible? Which part exactly?”

“Chapter six, verses four through nine. Do you know them?”

“I’m Jewish. What do you think?”

“Good. You might need them later. They’re a classic incantation against evil, specifically demonic aggression.”

Cole said, “I thought Cassandra worshipped some African god.”

“She might. But if your soul was at risk, wouldn’t you use every tool you had available to save it?”

“Good point.”

“Now listen, we’re just trying to banish the thing because we can’t kill it while it’s on our plane. So, Cole, although I appreciate the sentiment with that Parker-Hale, a sniper rifle is just going to piss her off.

If you can find a blade that slices
and
dices within the next fifteen seconds, you may have a chance.”

“Shitsuckers!” He slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Bergman! Got anything sharp on both sides in that backpack?”

Bergman stepped away from him. “No.”

“Why are you looking so nervous?”

“We’re about to get soul-raped! Wouldn’t you be?”

Cole lunged at him. “Gimme that pack!”

Bergman dodged to the left, nearly falling out of the circle before regaining his balance and sliding behind the nearest obstacle. Me.

I glanced over my shoulder. “What the hell, Miles?”

“Don’t let him have my pack!” Bergman pleaded. “Natchez gave it to me. He said it was lucky. He had it blessed by a priest and everything!”

“Why would Natchez give you his lucky pack?” I asked.

They’d become pretty good buddies during our mission together in Iran. But no way would one of my brother’s best men give up an edge, even if it was just a psychological one, unless he had a damn good reason.

“It’s part of his down payment.”

I felt my eyebrows hit maximum lift. “For what?”

Cole had reached around me to tug at one of the straps, which caused Bergman to keep hitting me in the back as he said, “His share of the business. When he retires next spring he wants to come in as a partner.

Which was the main reason I took this mission. I figured if I was letting Natch come on board, I should offer you a partnership too. Plus—ow!”

Another couple of blows to the back and now I could feel a headache coming on. “Cole, would you stop it! He doesn’t have a sword!”

“Fine! But if my soul gets eaten I’m haunting you!” He went to Cassandra to see if he could charm her out of her blade, giving me room to turn and face Bergman.

“You want me to be your partner?”

“You and Vayl, if he’s interested,” he said, readjusting his straps. “My four-leaf clover’s inside,” he whispered. “Also Myron Shlotsky’s rabbit’s foot, which he left me in his will.”

“Myron’s dead?”

“No. He just decided to give away all his worldly goods and join a cult.”

“Oh. Well.” We’d voted Myron
Most Likely to Marry a Dominatrix
in college, so I couldn’t say I was surprised.

Bergman shoved his finger up the bridge of his nose, still in the old habit of adjusting his glasses. He messed with his ball cap to make the gesture look a little less idiotic and said, “Look, I know you probably think I’m a wimp because I said all that stuff about not being scared anymore and really having a life. And I’m trying. But fear is a hard habit to break. It helps to have props.”

“Of course. Like actors.”

“Exactly. And about the partnership? You don’t have to decide right away. Take some time and think about it. I figured, you know, if we survive this whole demon thing, you’d still have to give notice. And then we could talk about how you’d want the business to expand. I’d still be doing research and development, plus some consulting. But you and Vayl and Natchez would obviously be bringing a whole new set of clients to the table.”

What a nice way to say we’d be turning mercenary.

I said, “Okay, I’ll consider it. And thanks. I’m really honored that you’d trust me and Vayl enough to bring us into your business like this.”

Bergman shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot working with you. The main thing is that life’s too short to go solo. And I’m never going to get a girl if I’m working all the time. If I had partners I could take a day off once in a while.”

I nodded. “This is true.” I put a hand out, grabbing on to his arm to steady myself. Geez, when Astral opened her lines it was like transporting into an IMAX movie. The dizzy spell passed as my eyes adjusted to her video feed.

“I can see the demon,” I said. “She’s walking past that pole barn, uh, Wirdilling Hall. And my lips are starting to buzz because this is so weird. It’s like Cole and Cassandra are standing right beside her.” Cole swung a fist. “Did I get her?”

“Nope. She’s about a foot to your right.”

Cole started to set up a front kick, but Cassandra pushed him off balance. “Would you stop?” she hissed. “My
soul
is at stake!”

“This is all for you!” he insisted. “I’m practicing up so we can kick ass and take names. But without actually saying her name, right?”

I said, “Not unless we want to summon her here. Which we don’t.” I let my vision readjust to the hologram. “She’s wearing a hat so it’s kind of hard to make out her features. There, she’s walking under a streetlamp. Aw, shit.”

“What?” they all asked at once.

“She threw her hat at the lamp and busted it.”

“Of all the things she could’ve done, you’re upset about that?” asked Cole.

“Yeah. Because before the light exploded I saw her face. She’s even prettier than the Magistrate.” CHAPTERSIX

People judge hell’s hierarchy all kinds of ways. But I’ve found the most accurate measure to be by the looks of its inhabitants. You beautiful, you bad. Receive a promotion, get a face-lift. The Magistrate had been one luscious demon, temptation in a
Playgirl
wrapper. I hadn’t wanted to fight him. That’s a good way to get yourself rolled in flour and deep-fried. But my Spirit Guide, Raoul, had helped make sure the battle was less David-and-Goliath than is usual in those cases. I could still remember the Magistrate snapping his whip at me as I tried to bury my admiration for his sleek perfection. All that considered, Cassandra’s demon scuzzed him out.

“If you didn’t summon her, how’d she get here?” I asked.

She shook her head and shrugged. Demons can’t just pop into our world like we run to the bank. As far as I knew, they had to be called. But then, the rules governing their movements were more intricate than the IRS tax code. Maybe this demon had found a loophole.

Cassandra said, “I anointed my eyes as usual this morning. I’m sure I chanted the prayer of protection correctly. I’ve only been repeating it for over half a millennia.”

“But she’s here,” I murmured, watching the demon stalk around Wirdilling Hall, trying to catch our scent.

“You must have done something different.”

“No, nothing.”

I barely heard her. Something about the way the hellspawn moved, so fluid she seemed nearly boneless, so confident I wondered why any of us should even bother to resist her, reached through Astral’s optics and dug in.

She reminds me of a cougar
, I thought as I noted her tawny skin and dark blond braid. She’d dressed to hunt in low-heeled boots, skintight jeans, and a silk top the color of lava that she’d unbuttoned far enough to show the sweat beading between her breasts. The headgear, a brown suede bush hat she’d probably taken off some soul-mangled station owner, completed the look.

Crap.
Her head had come up. A sun-bleached old van had pulled into the lot beside Wirdilling Hall’s main entrance. I only recognized its driver by his skinny legs and cowboy boots. It was our entertainer from Crindertab’s, a tanned old dude with a cigarette dangling from his lips and enough hair left on his head to share with three of his baldest buddies. He didn’t see the demon when he went around to the back of the van and began to unload equipment into the hall’s add-on. Didn’t hear her pull his silver-haired partner from her seat and into the shadows. Didn’t even startle when she strode up to him and said in a sex-kitten purr, “I am looking for a dark-skinned woman named Cassandra. Have you seen her?”