Bite Marks (8 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Rardin

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Contemporary, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Urban

BOOK: Bite Marks
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You would commit such an atrocity?

Not happily. But you’re a menace. Better to get rid of you while you’re trapped inside me than let
you pull off whatever heinous plan you’ve devised that includes me.

I waited. Listened. The only voice I heard was Vayl’s, smooth and sweet as hot fudge as he said,

“Jasmine, what is wrong?”

“Brude,” I said shortly. “Nothing I can’t handle.” For now. “If you’re finished up there we might’ve found something interesting down here.” I thought for a second. “Also, I need to know your mother’s name.”

Was it just my imagination or was Bergman’s doohickey sensitive enough to pick up the catch in Vayl’s voice as he asked, “Why?”

“You know all about mine. And yours was like, a thousand times better.”
Because, even though she
never knew you, she cared enough to demand that the family make Cirilai to protect you.
“Plus, we could use her name as a code word or something. For when one of us is about to do something the other should just take on faith.”

“It was Viorica.”

“And if you were going to pick between lobster and crab, which would you choose?”

“What?”

“These are things we should know. What if we have to take a quiz someday? I can tell you right now that Bergman is allergic to eggs, and Cassandra’s all-time favorite place to visit is Monaco. Have you ever had a dog?”

“I prefer crab. And yes, I have owned several dogs. But I grew tired of burying them every decade or so. Thus, my only pets are the tigers carved into my cane.”

“There, was that so hard?”

Jack had begun to tug at his leash hard enough to make my shoulder ache, so I stopped resisting and followed him toward the northwest corner of the schoolhouse. Concrete steps led down to a basement entrance that had been both boarded and padlocked shut. But that wasn’t the part that interested him.

His nose led him to the side of the steps, to a gray brick wall so ordinary I’d never have given it a second look if not for him. I took a knee.

“What’s that on your nose, dude?” A smudge of powder, the same color as the wall. I reached out to rub the spot he’d sniffed it from. Yanked my hand back. Because my fingers hadn’t touched the rock-hard surface my eyes had registered. It had felt more like membrane, giving like Jell-O at the contact.

“We’ve got something over here,” I said.

“Be casual,” Vayl reminded everyone.

I looked up as Bergman reached the top of the steps and clicked off a couple of shots. Cassandra joined him, exclaiming over the viability of using this spot in our movie’s murder scene. And then Vayl split the two of them in the middle, Astral sitting at his feet like a real cat, which was when I realized that was exactly the kind of pet he needed. Battery-driven. Likely to outlast even him.

Now that I had my audience, I flicked the barrier with a finger. It wiggled, pulling an excited gasp out of Bergman. He ran down the steps, jumping the last two in his rush to get a closer look.

“What kind of technology are we talking about here?” he asked himself as he poked at the fakeness. He gasped when his finger went through. Sagged against me when it came out whole, if dusty.

“I doubt if it’s mechanical so much as chemical mixed with magic,” said Cassandra as she and Vayl descended the steps. “But as soon as I touch it I’ll be able to tell you a great deal more.” Jack and I backed toward the boarded door to give her room to work while Bergman pulled Astral out of the way. Vayl leaned on his cane, watching with interest as she knelt, steadying herself with one hand on the bottom step. She gently pressed the other against the Jell-O wall, squeezing her eyes tight as images filled her mind. Her lips flattened, like she’d just taken a bite of bad potato salad but couldn’t spit it out, because her auntie had made it special, just for her.

Finally she nodded and stood. “This is a new doorway into a gnome warren. It’s the one Pete told us about. N’Paltick.” Nobody said anything, but the silence was full of unspoken speculation. She went on,

“It was built for ease of access to these apartments. I also See gnomes swarming out of this entrance.

They are quite excited, but I can’t tell why.”

Though the answer seemed obvious, Vayl still had to ask, “Is this the same warren that took Ruvin’s family?”

She nodded. “A woman and two boys are sitting in a candlelit room. They seem all right. They’re looking at the door in surprise.” She glanced up at him. “In my vision they believe they’re about to be rescued.”

His eyes, bright blue with the intensity of his thoughts, wandered to mine. As I read the question in them I shrugged. We both knew we’d never find a better chance to humiliate the shaman than this one. A people blinded to their leader’s whacked ways had to start questioning how tight he and the almighty Ufran really were when their god let common kidnappers make off with the bargaining chips—er, I mean—the midwife’s family.

You know I’m for it
, I told him silently.
Especially considering how much safer Cassandra will be
down there.

Gnomes and demons entered into a blood feud right after Lucifer’s Fall. By now the gnomes were so far ahead they’d stopped keeping score. Other creatures might push them around, but demons couldn’t seem to solve the gnomes’ code. A lot of people had studied their defenses and weaponry trying to figure out why, including yours truly. My theory—faith.

Gnomes
believed
. Even the fanatics—who performed appalling actions in the name of a god whose name translated as “peace”—even they remained demon-immune. I figured this had to be due to their unshakable convictions. And that makes for slim pickings when you have to fill a monthly quota. So the last place Kyphas would look for Cassandra would be in an Ufranite warren.

A thought hit me. I tucked it away before Brude could see it.

“Are we in agreement then?” Vayl asked.

I nodded. “Maybe the prisoners have heard something that could help us identify all the carriers,” I said for Brude’s benefit.

“We have other means,” Vayl reminded me.

“Yeah, but this way we get to… you know.” I smiled. So did he.

Bergman held up a finger. “Hang on, you just made a big leap there. What did I miss?” I clapped him on the back. “Probably better for you just to find out as you go.” I turned back to Vayl, who was studying the brilliantly disguised gnome door.

“You’re not thinking of diving in or anything, are you?” Bergman asked. He gestured at the fake wall.

“We don’t even know what’s on the other side.”

Ignoring Bergman’s observation, Vayl said, “Jasmine, tell me. If you had built an access door, the better to reach Odeam’s traitor, why would you choose this particular location?” I shrugged. “Lots of fake concrete just going to waste in the corner?” He blew his breath out his nose. “Hardly. Where is your mind today?”

“Seriously? After flying forever, fighting a demon, not to mention the Domytr snapping up my synapses, you have to ask?”

“You could at least try.”

Shit.
I looked around. “I don’t know, okay? The basement door is the only way in where they wouldn’t be seen, and it’s obviously solid as a—” I kicked at the door as I said, “brick.” But my heel didn’t contact wood, sending a shiver up the bone of my leg as expected. Instead it shoved completely through.

Because the gnomes had pulled off another illusion.

The original door had been removed and replaced by Paint plants. Those wizards of horticulture had created this ivy sometime in the sixteenth century. And since then all they’d done was improve it to the point that it came in every known color, its needlelike leaves laying so flat they were easily confused with the grain of wood. As shown by the door, it could be grown quickly and trained into any position, so even up close it resembled whatever the gardener desired.

I pulled my foot out. Big, noticeable dent, though I could already see leaves unbending. Funky.

“You know, someday you’re going to throw a kick like that and something’s going to bite your foot off,” Bergman said.

“Could be,” I replied. “Or maybe I’ll knock something out before it has a chance to eat my face off.”

“Save the debate for later,” Vayl said. “They should have left a panel for ingress and egress. Jasmine, please check.”

“Sure.” I let loose with another kick, this one at about knee height. A door big enough for Jack to jump through popped open. I looked over my shoulder at Vayl.

“You guard the rear,” he said. “We must keep Cassandra and Bergman between us at all times.”
So that
if one of us is wounded
, his eyes added,
they will at least stand a chance of escaping.

I nodded and drew my Walther PPK. As always, Bergman smiled when he saw it. He was the one who’d engineered it to transform into a crossbow, so I understood the pride in his eyes. But when the quick grin disappeared, I knew he’d just realized why I might need it.

Our reconnaissance took ten minutes. The basement had been emptied when the school was closed, and the Space Station hadn’t yet filled it. Up top, the building held eight former classrooms that had been remodeled into apartments, each with its own bath and kitchenette. We marked the access points for each room and developed at least three escape plans. Then we reconvened at the door to N’Paltick.

Vayl and I stood in silent contemplation while Cassandra and Bergman huddled in the corner with the animals.

Glancing at them I said, more for their benefit than ours, “We’ll have to take them all with us. Too risky to leave them here with the demon due back anytime now.”

Vayl eyed our companions. The crook of his right brow demonstrated his concern. It wasn’t necessarily that they’d get in the way. Just that they might do something stupid without even realizing it and get us all killed. Or worse, made into hors d’oeuvres.

“Stay between us,” he told them. “Follow our orders precisely as given. This is no time to think independently, despite your obvious qualities in that area.” They nodded like a couple of little kids who’ve just learned they get to go into the haunted house at the fair, and they can’t figure out if they’re thrilled or terrified.

“Astral,” I said. “Jump up here.” I clapped my hands and she leaped into my arms.

Cool! If I decide to try a second career, robokitty and I can develop a Vegas act.

I walked over to the doorway. “Scout ahead.” I threw her through the portal, wondering how far she’d fall before landing, and if she’d plummet so long even her programming would fail and she’d splat into a thousand pieces.

Bergman must’ve been thinking along the same lines. Because his squeal of protest reminded me of that time in college when I’d accidentally eaten his ChemGen project. Luckily he hadn’t been studying ways to make botulism more lethal. He’d just been trying to come up with a tastier, less fattening form of peanut butter.

After waiting half a minute for the dust to clear, I said, “She’s in a tunnel the size of a large culvert. The picture’s coming in green, so it’s not lit.”

Vayl nodded. He didn’t seem surprised. Which disappointed me. In fact, I realized it had become a challenge to raise his eyebrow, even a tick. You gotta figure a guy who’s been around nearly three centuries is going to be hard to jolt. So when you do… score!

He said, “Get ready to crawl. Bergman? Cassandra? Keep one hand on the leg of the person in front of you at all times. Speak only when necessary, and then in whispers.”

“What if we need a quick getaway?” asked Bergman.

“I doubt that will be possible,” said Vayl. “If violence is called for we must be swift and certain. We cannot afford wavering,” he said sternly, staring at Cassandra.

“Why are you looking at me?” she asked. “I can fight.”

“You are the sweetest soul among us.”

“Which is probably why Kyphas wants you so bad,” said Bergman. He meant to be generous, I know, but his reward was a slap on the arm from me and a hail of frowns and shushes from everyone else. Even Jack turned his back on him. “What did I say?”

“Her name, dude.” I rubbed the back of my neck, like she was already out there, aiming some devilish weapon at us. Standing on tiptoe so I could see over the wall of the basement steps to make sure the coast was still clear, I said, “It’s almost like you’re summoning her when you say it out loud. She can hear it from anywhere. Right now she knows you’ve said it and, if she cares to look, she can see what spot you were standing in when you said it. So don’t say it.”

“Look? Into what? She’s got a crystal ball?”

I sighed. Why hadn’t our consultant taken just one Basic Paranormality class? “Do you give off heat?”

“Yeah.”

“Then all she has to do is look into something else that gives off heat. And assuming she’s scouting hell for allies, it shouldn’t be too tough to find a lava pit to squint into, now, should it?”

“Oh.”

Geniuses! They’re so great for the go-boom and the wireless yapping. But ask them one question
about
others
and their brains turn to mud!
I was about to let Bergman know exactly what I thought about the gap in his education when a new picture rose in front of my eyes. And I decided his positives might just outweigh his negatives. Astral was turning out to be real helpful.

I turned to Vayl. “The cat found a crossroads guarded by a gnome. He’s alert.”
And wearing a spiffy
blue uniform that includes a tail ribbon. Since when are gnomes into insignia and brass? And
, I felt myself frowning,
guns?

“He’s armed too,” I said. “It looks like the same kind of air-powered rifle we’ve seen most of the other burrow dwellers opt for.”

Vayl inclined his head. “Then it is time to prepare.”

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

As if we stood on a table spun by the same gears, Vayl and I both swiveled toward Cassandra. She looked from me to Vayl and back again. “Was there something—” She motioned toward the notcrete wall. “Do you want me to go first or…”

“We just assumed you understood how gnomes function,” I said.

She shook her head. “My area of expertise
is
in ancient languages and religions. And the gnomes have been around as long as my people, but they wrote nothing down about their god. And since their history is an oral one that they share only among themselves, I haven’t studied them at all.” I nodded. “All we really know is what we get from the outcasts who manage to escape before the community finds a way to sacrifice them. The gnomes call them
kimfs
and blow snot out one side of their noses after they say the word.”

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