Quick Bites: A Short Story Collection

by Jennifer Rardin

  I looked up, only to realize he had leaned in much closer than I’d thought. “Will you miss me?” I asked.

  His lips twitched. “You are my avhar. When we are apart, it feels as if half of my soul is gone. That is why we must make tonight special. One for the yearbook.” His eyebrows twisted. “Or is it scrapbook?”

  “I dunno,” I replied. “I never kept either one.” As his fingers dipped into my hair and his thumb caressed the worry lines on my forehead, I wanted to let my head fall back onto the cool black leather of the seat. But I held myself steady as he said, “No, I do not suppose you would. All of your memories must be locked in this wondrous mind of yours, yes? And I have made it my goal to surpass every one.”

  I pulled in a deep breath. In the time it took for me to exhale, my inner bimbo howled cynically and the part of me that would always belong to Matt muttered, Like hell! But the word that sighed across my lips was, “Oh.”

  Vayl sat back, dropping both hands to his lap, which was when I said, “You don’t have your cane!”

  “No. I surmised the odds against swordplay tonight were rather astronomical. So I left it in my room.”

  “But…you always bring your cane along.”

  “We are always working.”

  “I’m armed!”

  Again with the barely smile, this one more wicked than the last. “Then perhaps I must disarm you. Shall I start with my first surprise?”

  “Uh.”

  He nodded toward the window that divided us from the chauffeur. “If you were to look out the front of the car, you would see we were driving into the countryside.”

  I got his drift right away. “You mean I spent two months’ rent on a new dress for nothing?”

  His eyes swept over me, and this time I didn’t have to guess what he thought of my outfit. His reaction was worth every penny. “Oh no, my pretera, not for nothing. I have a most elegant evening planned for us.”

  And that was it. Despite my badgering, he wouldn’t say another word until the car stopped fifteen minutes later, at which time I was so frustrated by my lack of solving-the-mystery progress that I refused to exit the car.

  “Why are you so angry?” he asked as he sat, his fingers primed to unlatch the door.

  “I don’t like not knowing what’s going on!” I exclaimed.

  “What is the point of a surprise then?”

  “They suck!”

  “Not when you are with me.”

  “I don’t know that.”

  He held out his free hand. “Then you are about to learn.” His voice had deepened, the way it did when he’d had enough of my bullshit and he wanted me to figure out the lesson he was trying to teach now.

  Come on, Jaz. You’ve jumped into a lot of unknowns with him during missions, and he’s never yet let you down. It’s just one evening. Just a sweet memory he wants to add to balance out all the horrific ones. Give him a chance.

  I slipped my fingers into his.

  * * *

  Vayl hid his delight at the feel of Jasmine’s hand in his own. He knew how close she stood to passion’s edge, how easily he could make her fall. As well, he understood the price of breaking her trust. Only that allowed him to control his own will-battering desires, to let her go the moment she emerged from the limousine, leaving the flowers he had brought her safe on the seat for their return trip.

  She looked about, no doubt fixing the most likely locations for an ambush clear in her mind. “Where are we?” she asked, her gaze encompassing the glade with its pleasing plantings of olive trees surrounding a structure so old it had grown its own aura. He knew she had already deduced the best ways to defend or destroy the building, depending on their situation. Now if he could only get her to see it through his eyes.

  Vayl swept his hand around the clearing, which was nestled in an elbow of Mount Panachaikon. He turned her attention to the gas lamps hanging from strategically placed metal hooks, hoping she also noted the beauty of the burnished white columns topped by a cylindrical roof, all of which was reflected in the clear blue pool that stood before the building’s entrance.

  “This was once a shrine to Aphrodite, but some time before I came to Patras, those who had made it their life’s work to stamp out the old gods pulled it apart. They desecrated the temple with blood and fire, leaving little more than a shell. But their destruction allowed one such as myself to walk the temple’s length and breadth without fear of burning.” He glanced at her, wondering if he risked her laughter now, but their relationship would never cement itself if they could not share these secrets. He took a breath. “I fell in love. I found the landowner, paid him twice the value of the land, and rebuilt. It became my sanctuary.”

  She did not mock him. Only let her piercing eyes stare deep into his before moving them, more slowly this time, around the ancient site. She nodded slowly. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to find a special place. You know, one you really felt you belonged to. Is it nice?”

  His heart leaped. Ahh, Jasmine, I should have known you would at least try to understand. “I always imagined it was like a loving mother’s embrace.”

  She nodded. “Or maybe a granny’s.”

  “Indeed.” He led her past the pool up four marble steps to a pair of plain, whitewashed doors. Above them, artists had added moldings that depicted men in chariots racing across the beaches of Patras, Vayl explained, celebrating the birth of their goddess with a day of fellowship and competition.

  He paused to add, almost as an afterthought, “I have never brought anyone here before.”

  Her quick intake of breath told him how much that meant to her. “Why not?”

  “I never met anyone worthy of the secret until now.” He threw the doors open. “Welcome to my Patras home.”

  Her sigh upon stepping over his threshold warmed him as only Jasmine’s utterings could. He saw his refurbished temple through her eyes: the floor of dark-stained pine covered by a series of rugs in intricate patterns the artist had called his blue immortal set; an arrangement of couches and chairs upholstered in sumptuous white velvet, surrounded by tables and shelves stacked with well-worn books, was made cozy by three false walls formed of ceiling-to-floor indigo curtains.

  “I gotta see,” she said, moving to their right, where the curtains did not quite meet the wall.

  “Of course.” He followed her into the bedroom, where he had slept safe from Trust intrigue from the moment he had devised a foolproof security system. She pointed to the bed with its lumpy mattress, red-wine coverlet, and wrought-iron headboard.

  “Just you?” she asked.

  “Always.”

  She nodded. “I can see why.”

  He made a mental note to call a local designer the following evening. “Would you like to see the rest?” he asked.

  “Yup.”

  He took her out through another break in the curtains behind the living room, where a serving cart laden with covered dishes sat beside a dining table for two. It had been covered with a white cloth, set with silver, sparkling crystal, and red roses. Against the real wall to the table’s right, burnished cabinetry held fine china and cooking utensils while upgraded appliances in stainless steel hummed a quiet undertone to the music that had begun playing the moment she entered the dining room.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, trying to mask a sudden anxiety. Perhaps she would not appreciate his efforts to spare her the discomfort restaurants always gave her.

  She raised her eyebrows as she scanned the room and nodded. “Pretty. Nope, I think I mean beautiful.” She turned to him. “And we don’t have to sit with our backs to the wall or worry about rug rats running into the line of fire. So I have to say I’m stoked about the whole deal.”

  He lowered his eyes so she would miss the rush of triumph that tempted him to pump a fist in the air the way her friend Cole sometimes did. Instead, he gestured toward another curtain opening that revealed an actual door. “Shall we complete the tour?”

  When she
opened it, she laughed. “When did you put in the bathroom? I mean, it’s like something out of a magazine!” She stepped in to run her hand over the gold faucets, the dark blue tile. “Wait a minute. Two sinks? I thought you’d never brought anyone else here?” When she turned to him, her eyes snapped, whiplike, aiming for his soul. He wondered how many men had felt their sting.

  “I do not lie to you, Jasmine.” He heard the sternness in his own voice and wondered once more if he had missed his calling. Perhaps he should have spent his human days as a schoolmaster. “Come into the next room. I do not know if you will believe me, but you should at least allow me the courtesy of an explanation.”

  Pressing her lips together, she followed him out of the bathroom, through the living room, and into another partitioned space. This one held an enormous concrete bowl full of clear water that eddied in a slow circle as if some invisible chef stirred it. “It is set over a spring,” Vayl explained. “I built the bench that surrounds it. The columns on which the urns stand were original to the building.” He directed her attention to the corners of the room, but she would not be distracted from the statue that dominated the east wall.

  “Who’s that?” she asked.

  “It is Aphrodite. I knew I risked a great deal bringing her likeness into her former abode. But I felt she had blessed it in some way. So I gave her this room. And in return…” He paused. If Jasmine did not believe him, he knew that nothing would ever be the same between them.

  She did not demand, but simply waited for him to continue. He sank onto the bench, watching her discreetly as she gazed upon the goddess. “When the dawn comes, I know no more. I do not dream. Nor plan. It is as if I cease to exist until I rise at dusk. It has always been thus. Except for one night, when she came to me.” He nodded toward the statue.

  Jasmine turned to him then. “You…had a vision?”

  “I remember it more as a visitation. Aphrodite was pleased that the temple had been raised, even if it no longer brought worshippers to her knees. Because of this, she told me something that changed my life forever.”

  “What was it?”

  Vayl fixed his gaze on Jasmine, willing her to listen, although he knew his powers held no sway. “She said I would meet a woman with hair the color of flame who would make my heart burn anew. She predicted that together we would save the world, and in so doing, rescue one another. She may even bring you redemption, my Vampere friend, but you must do your part as well. Love only works when it is fully embraced, she told me softly before she left.”

  “How…” Jasmine cleared her throat. “How can you be sure it was her? The goddess, I mean. It could’ve been, you know, a demon or something.”

  Vayl shrugged. “When I woke, my skin was steaming. And later, as I bathed, I discovered a dolphin, one of her symbols, branded upon the inside of my thigh. I would show you but”—he smiled—“we have not even had our appetizers yet.”

  His heart unclenched and began to beat double-time when she responded to the wickedness in his tone with a chuckle. “You’re lucky she didn’t burn off your eyebrows. What if they’d grown back all bushy and gray?”

  “Indeed, I am fortunate.”

  “Don’t you forget it!”

  He shook his head resolutely. “Never.”

  * * *

  At first I thought the shrill ringing in my ear was the fire alarm. Goddammit, Miles has blown up the kitchen again! Then I realized I wasn’t back in college. I had been sleeping, but this wasn’t a dream, either. Which meant Albert or Evie was about to find out how sincerely I meant, “Don’t call me early on flight day unless Godzilla has just eaten through your roof!”

  I shot up in bed, the red silk sheets sliding onto the floor to join the carefully folded bedspread as I yelled, “Don’t let the monster eat the baby!” Then I realized how ridiculous that sounded. As if Godzilla would make it clear to Indy without the Marines shoving a nuke up its ass. Plus E.J. had her own innate powers of protection. Still, I found my phone and flipped it open.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing! I just wanted to know how your evening went!”

  If I’d been a cartoon, the artists would’ve hit slo-mo so the audience could see my brains explode into a pink cloud and then reassemble themselves in the shape of a question mark above my head. “Cassandra? Nobody has this number. How’d you get it? Did Albert give it to you? I’m gonna slide a pipe wrench around that old fart’s head and twist until—”

  “No! Nothing like that. You called me from this number. At four in the morning as I recall,” she replied, laying on the syrup thick enough so that I knew she was up to no good.

  “Yeah, and you gave me great advice. The dress was a big hit.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear. Go on.”

  “What do you mean, go on? It’s freaking three a.m.!”

  “Really? How could that be? It’s only about eleven here. Almost time for lunch. What are you having?”

  “Huh?”

  “For lunch?”

  “This is a revenge call, isn’t it?”

  Short pause, during which I could hear her covering the mouthpiece, but not well enough to muffle the laughter. “Your date’s over. I helped you dress for it. So now I get my reward. I want every detail. Backwards. Did he kiss you good night?”

  I rescued my sheets, already getting good at the one-armed work, although the twinge in my shoulder told me the pain meds were about to expire. I rearranged the covers, lumpy but leg warming, so I could have a few seconds to wake up, stew, decide if I really wanted to be friends with Cassandra, or if I could cut the connection and make up some wild story about a brownie incursion when the recriminations finally caught up to me. I sighed. “No, I think he knew better than to kiss me.” Because if he had, in Aphrodite’s old temple, could either of us have stopped there?

  “Aww.”

  “Jeez, Cassandra, we’re not even, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  I blew a frustrated breath out through my nose. “Me neither. His place was amazing, though.” I described it to her, encouraged by her squeals of delight to lay on the detail.

  “So what did you eat?”

  I tried to remember. “Seafood, I think. Yeah, some kind of fish. I remember butter.”

  She snorted. “I’ll bet you were too busy looking deep into his eyes, saying things like, ‘Oh Vayl, I have waited so long for your touch.’ Don’t deny it. Deep down you’re a big sap.”

  She laughed as I made gagging sounds. “Nah. We just, we were so busy talking. God, I thought I’d traveled. But he’s been freaking everywhere! Have you even heard of Nmbuuti?” Pause while she waited for me to figure out the obvious. “Okay, well, considering your age you probably have. Which means you and I could spend a week at the beach and never even put a dent in your stories.”

  “True,” she admitted. “So…you just talked?”

  “Yeah. Lame, huh?”

  “Well, I was hoping it would be so good you’d have to censor it for me. But this is better. You know what it means, don’t you?”

  “That he really should get out more?”

  “No! That your personalities are compatible!”

  “We already knew that. You can’t assassinate bad guys on a regular basis without getting along with your partner. Surrounded with all the stuff that goes slice, dice, and boom? It’s just too easy to kill each other if you don’t.”

  “That’s not what I—never mind. Too bad about the kiss, though.”

  “Yeah. Maybe next time. You know, if there is one.”

  “If?”

  “Well, he’s flying to Romania pretty soon, so we didn’t really make plans. And he’s still…there’s a lot…it’s complicated.”

  “What isn’t with you?”

  “True.”

  We talked a while longer, and then Cassandra took pity and hung up. I’d just dozed off again when Cirilai gave warning just before a tap at the door woke me fully. Though I knew who stood outs
ide, I took Grief with me. Because you never knew.

  Vayl looked old-school dashing, wearing his black leather duster, his cane held in one hand, while his suitcase stood at his side. “I am on my way to the airport.” His eyes did a slow Jaz tour. “Do you always sleep in a man’s T-shirt?” His eyes hardened. “And what man gave it to you?”

  “It’s mine. I get them big on purpose. And yeah, I usually do. They’re comfy. Why are you here?”

  He stood so still he might’ve been posing for a tintype photograph. “I like your hair when it is mussed from sleep. It makes you look…hopeful.”

  I felt my brows start to cross. If this got any weirder, I was going to test my boss for doppelgängers. “I am hopeful…that I’m going to get some sleep before my flight,” I snapped.

  “Then I shall not keep you any longer. I simply realized I had forgotten something earlier, and I could not fly away without it.” He looked over my shoulder, as if he’d left it in my room, so I turned to do a quick search myself.

  “I don’t know what it could’ve been. You weren’t even here—”

  “Jasmine.” My name, like music when spoken in his husky baritone, pulled me back around. “Kiss me good-bye.”

  My toes curled into the carpet as he reached for me. I leaned into his arms, my lips already throbbing as they met his. Thought stopped. Time melted. And maybe the outcome of that mind-bending touch would’ve been different if I’d already invited him across my threshold. But I hadn’t. So when I came up for air, he stepped back.

  I leaned against the doorjamb, gasping like a marathon runner. We stared at each other, speaking without words, our wishes written clearly on our faces.

  “Wait for me,” he said. Before I could respond, he turned away.

  I didn’t watch him leave. I closed the door and went back to bed. If I couldn’t have him there with me, maybe I could dream of him. I ran my fingers through my hair, throwing a few more tangles into the mix. I could always hope.