Biting the Bullet

by Jennifer Rardin

  Oh shit, Zarsa, stop! I wanted to yell. The Wizard’s watching you right now! But I couldn’t warn her. Couldn’t make a move without betraying what I knew. So I sat tight and hoped for the best.

  “The vision I have from holding this key is of a horror before unknown to me. I See doom for my people. Brothers strangling their sisters only to make their corpses walk again. Murderers lopping off heads like they are halving melons as their bodies writhe with parasitic monsters. Women setting themselves afire. My own children crying as they are forced to watch an endless procession of hangings. And behind it all someone laughing and laughing. It” — she held her hands out, almost pleading with us — “how can I tell you of the despair I felt afterward?”

  Zarsa dropped her head as if it was just too heavy to hold up anymore and shook it. Every eye in the room was glued to her. No one spoke as she pulled herself together.

  “That night I dreamed,” she said in a small voice. “A man came to my door, power rolling before him like thunder. I knew all I had to do was open my arms and it would be mine. I could take it, mold it, and use it to transform myself. To fight the vision of the key.” Though her arms still covered her stomach and she rocked on her knees like a mental patient, her eyes were dry. “This is why I must turn,” she said, her voice little more than a rasp. “I must have Vayl’s strength, his magic. So I told him he could meet his sons.”

  “Even though it will kill them?” I asked. A pang went through me at breaking my promise to Cassandra. I’d probably go straight to hell for it. Spend eternity eating my hair and arguing with my mother. Oh well.

  I could tell the question shocked Zarsa. She gave me such a how-did-you-know stare that Cole didn’t even bother with a translation.

  Vayl came forward, his shoulders hunched as if someone had set a crate full of lead on them. “Meeting Hanzi and Badu . . . will lead to our deaths?” he asked.

  She met his eyes squarely. “Sacrifices must be made to prevent the horror,” she said flatly.

  “No, Zarsa,” I said. “You can’t prevent the horror by becoming one.” I glanced at Vayl. “No offense meant, boss.”

  “None taken,” he replied.

  “And look what this plan has done to your marriage,” Cole urged. “You don’t want to lose something so fine and rare, do you? Or do you enjoy putting your husband in such a crazed state?”

  “No! Of course not!”

  “And what about your children?” I asked.

  “I act for them!” Zarsa exclaimed fiercely. “This world I saw, it is possible because too many have already failed to fight! Because fear is a weapon this man wields like a bully’s club. If I do not stand, my children will be crushed! I cannot, I will not allow that!”

  I glanced at Soheil. The AK-47 hung at his side, nearly forgotten in the surge of pride that had washed away his previous rage at his wife. “She’s a pistol, isn’t she?” I asked him. He nodded, his eyes shining with admiration. “I have married a tigress.”

  I turned back to her. “Listen, I know you’re hell-bent on this course. And I met a sort of prophet on the street outside your house yesterday who told me you are destined to change the world. But without Vayl’s help.”

  Her expression asked me why she should believe me. “What was his name?” she inquired.

  “Asha Vasta.”

  I’d never seen such an emotional quick-change in my life. Zarsa went from a cynicism heavily dosed with agitation to absolute awe. “You have met the Amanha Szeya?”

  I cleared my throat, let my eyes roam the room. Amazon Grace still hid her gun behind her back. David scratched his neck, probably sending a video straight to the Wizard. Cam rolled his toothpick back and forth like it tasted of chocolate. Everyone else looked riveted. Except the mahghul, which began to file out of the room.

  “Um. Yeah.” I didn’t realize the dude was so famous.

  “There are legends, but we had thought them just that. No one has seen or spoken to him since the time of my great-great-grandfather. Can you take me to him?” she asked eagerly. Whoops. I suddenly felt like Pandora and, unable to close the box up tight again, wanted only to backpedal until nobody could tell I’d been the one whose hands had been on the latch. “He’s uh, well, hah.”

  How could I tell her he’d probably been standing right outside until a couple of minutes ago, but that he was only going to disappoint her?

  “Do you know where he lives?” Vayl asked me.

  I tried not to squirm under that cool blue gaze. “Maybe.”

  Again with the eyebrows. Well, hey, I told myself, if he hadn’t been such a jerk none of this would’ve happened. “You have been inside his house?” Vayl asked, his voice only slightly less frigid than an ice cave.

  “No. Only his garage. He lent me his car so I could get away from those four, uh, guys I told you about.”

  “Where is this vehicle? I thought you drove some sort of truck back. No, it was a —”

  “Um, can we talk about this later? When we don’t have company?”

  Vayl nodded shortly and turned to Soheil. “I deeply regret anything I have done to offend you or injure your relationship with your wife. I was momentarily blinded by the hope that I might be reunited with my sons, whom I have been too long without. Obviously you and Zarsa have much to discuss. If, at the end of that time, you wish to visit Asha Vasta, my colleague here will be happy to guide you to his door.”

  Vayl shot me a look over his shoulder that warned me not to say a word. I’d already done enough. My nonvocal reply said, You too, Mr. Obsessive.

  Soheil threw the AK-47 over his back by its sling and helped Zarsa to her feet. He looked around the room, trying to formulate the right apology for taking a bunch of people hostage on the mistaken assumption that they could somehow stop their vampire associate from turning his wife into a blood-sucking immortal. “I have not the right words,” he finally muttered. “I am so very sorry.” They left quietly.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Raoulmetmeinmyrestroomagain,minusthebubblebathdream.ThistimeIwasstandingfullydressed in the tub, armed with Grief and a wickedly curved blade that I might gut myself with if I wasn’t careful.

  “What took you so long?” he demanded, his accent very Antonio Banderas in the extremity of his irritation.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” I said shortly, remembering that last few minutes before Vayl had turned in with a grim, plodding-through-a-parade-of-blow-dart-shooting-pygmies sort of feeling. Somehow our good moments were always so fleeting. The two times he’d taken my blood. That kiss. Spectacular. And yet the job had intervened, as usual. And in the end we’d said our good nights with the distant friendliness we reserved for airline attendants and taxi drivers. I don’t think he minded so much about the stalk — uh, tailing — I’d been doing. But keeping my knowledge of Asha from him had been a mistake he wouldn’t instantly forgive. Plus, I think he was still reeling from the idea that if he met his sons now, they’d all die.

  And on my end, I felt like he’d cheated on me by taking Zarsa’s blood. Not that we’d had the exclusive talk yet. And if we did, shouldn’t it be about who we dated, not whose veins he drained? See, it was still just too confusing for me to relax into another kiss.

  So when he said he had to turn in, he didn’t give me the walk-me-to-the-tent look I’d have anticipated pre-Soheil. For my part, I barely glanced up from the card game Dave’s team had begun. Cam had snagged a box of poker chips from the Hotel Sraosa before they’d left. Apparently the big spenders spent a lot of time in the “meeting room” playing no-limit Hold ’Em. Anyway, he was teaching me how the pros shuffle their chips while they decide what to bet. I couldn’t do it without making a huge mess, but Cam kept encouraging me. He made it look easy too. Halve the stack, lift, combine, and blend. Oh man, I loved the sound too. Yeah, I was hooked. When I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, he let me take a handful of ones to practice with. Gotta love that guy.

  Raoul, on the other hand. Not so cuddly. In fact, I tho
ught he resembled a pissed-off timber wolf as he towered over me, his crew-cut practically shooting sparks as he said, “You asked for this meeting. You would not believe what I had to do to be here. You know” — he put a fist on his hip and ran the other across his head in a gesture so much like my dad’s I had to stifle a laugh — “I don’t just sit around waiting for you to call! I am trying to find out what the Magistrate wants with you. You do remember him, don’t you? Tall, blond demonic type? Likes to tear the skin off people with his whip?”

  “Yeah, Raoul, your description rings a bell.” Okay, Jaz, drop the sarcasm. Right. Now. As far as you know, this guy is the only one who can save David. For once in your life, do not piss off your last chance. Even if he did foul up Dave’s transition and let the Wizard . . . No, you’re not even sure of that. Quit judging, keep an open mind, and don’t screw this up. I sighed. “I’m really sorry. It’s . . . this mission is just insane. Things keep happening and I honestly couldn’t fall asleep when I wanted to. I tried. I really did.”

  Raoul’s expression softened. “Let’s go somewhere else to talk,” he said. “Your bathroom makes me feel as if I’m buried alive.”

  Gee, thanks. Now I’m going to have that lovely image playing in my head every time I have to pee. But I didn’t say a word. Just followed Raoul out the door and into my living room. He didn’t complain about its size, but he should’ve. It wasn’t even cozy. I just . . . I don’t really know how to make a place seem like home. We moved so much when I was a kid, and now I spend so much time in rented rooms. I guess I feel more comfortable in a hotel atmosphere. The white walls were bare. The brown suede couch and chairs matched; they just didn’t look like anyone had sat in them in the past five years. I use an ottoman for a coffee table. It was empty. The only redeeming feature of the whole room was the fancy maple rack behind the couch that held my prized possession. In her will, Granny May had specifically stated that I should receive her Amish quilt, a gorgeous black, red, and green creation that played on your eye like a classic piece of art. Someday I’d display it that way. But only when I’d found someplace permanent.

  Raoul settled on the couch. I sat beside him. “Have you thought about what I said before?” I asked.

  “Give it to me straight. Does Dave have any chance at all? I mean, I can’t let the Wizard control him much longer. When we pull the plug, so to speak, what will happen?”

  Raoul sat forward, his hands clasped between his legs. “He may have a chance. But before you start the party, let me explain.” Deep lines appeared between his brows. “No. Let me apologize.” He met my eyes squarely, because that was how he’d been trained to face things. “I am forced to follow certain rules that strictly govern how much I may” — he grimaced — “interfere. Which is why I could not warn you. Couldn’t immediately send you to his aide. Even now I must be careful what to say.”

  I stifled the urge to shake him. To get in his face and yell, “This is my brother we’re talking about! Tell me everything you know, dammit!”

  Raoul went on. “When a person is murdered at the order of a necromancer, great powers are stirred in order to strap the soul into the body and bind it into service. One with the strength of your brother cannot be completely restrained. A part of him, almost what you would call a shadow, escaped. That was what came to me. Ever since then I have been trying to find a way to free him.”

  Okay, so Dave was the second kind of zombie. The kind necromancers rarely messed with. The kind Hilda the expert had died trying to find out more about.

  “But . . . this assignment. I thought it was engineered by the Wizard.”

  Raoul nodded. “And yet, even seeds need nourishment to grow. So if I made a few suggestions as he dreamed . . . ” He shrugged. “You’re here. And yet we still walk a thin line. David’s soul is incredibly vulnerable. Freeing it could be the worst possible scenario. Because we believe —”

  “Wait a minute. We? Who’s we? Does that include Asha Vasta? I mean, is he part of the we?” Because if he was, maybe he could help Dave if I crapped out on Raoul.

  Raoul sat back, his eyes troubled. “What was the Amanha Szeya doing when you met him?”

  “Talking me out of killing reavers.”

  Raoul shook his head. “And so it goes.” He sighed. “Asha is not part of my — how would you understand it? — my regiment. The ‘we’ to which I was referring are the Eldhayr. Like you, we once lived as human beings. And now we fight to protect our kind. Asha was never human.”

  “So how many of you Eldhayr are there?”

  Raoul shook his head. “Some details are better left unknown.”

  I recognized that face. That was the you-might-get-tortured-so-remain-ignorant-please expression Pete always got when he sent us into anti-American territories. “Okay. Fine. So did you tell your Eldhayr buddies what an excellent recruit Dave would make? He already thinks he’s working for you, so obviously he’s cool with the idea. Plus —”

  Raoul held up a hand. “Jasmine, there is no need for the sales pitch. Of course we’ll invite your brother to join us if he can. But it won’t be as easy for him as it was for you.”

  I gulped. When your Spirit Guide compares your neck-breaking experience to anything and calls it easy, his next news ain’t gonna be pretty.

  “Why not?” I asked, clearing my throat to hide the quiver in my voice.

  “We believe the problem is directly related to your last experience with the Magistrate. The fact that the scene was a concert was no coincidence.” He stopped. Said, almost to himself, “How to explain this so you’ll understand?”

  So suddenly that it startled me, he jerked around to face me fully. “Since we’re in your dream, this shouldn’t hurt. Here.” He held his large, broad-fingered hands out to me. They made mine look like a little girl’s when I slid them into his. He closed his eyes for a second and I felt a tingle coupled with a sudden desire to throw him down on my couch and see just what hid under that starched blue shirt of his. I pulled my hands away. “Oh, hey, that’s not fair!”

  He grinned. “Relax, Jaz. It’s just chemistry, as you like to say. And I rearranged yours momentarily to help explain what I mean. That feeling you just had? Well, you felt it with Matt, didn’t you? And now it’s growing in you for Vayl. Am I right?”

  “Uh.”

  “Okay, too personal. But when you hold your niece or hug your sister, also there are good feelings, correct? Feelings of connection and belonging.”

  Where the hell was he going with this? Should I take notes? “Sure,” I agreed. He gave me a good-girl nod. So far I was getting an A in his class. “Those feelings are actually songs. Part of the music of the universe. Everyone has their own tune, and when they find someone whose music harmonizes well with theirs, a link is made. Sometimes for a few weeks. Sometimes forever.”

  Okay, now I’m getting it. “So when I go out-of-body, those golden cords that connect me to everybody I’m close to are . . . what?”

  “The songs the two of you make as members of a relationship. They allow you to find each other across time and space. That’s one of the reasons why, when you die, your soul knows where to go.”

  “And this has what to do with the Magistrate?” I asked.

  Raoul dropped my hands. “While he had your cord frozen, his song was playing against all the songs of the cords connected to you. We believe you were right that he wants you to leave your body again. But not to lead him to us. We think he heard something unique in David’s tune. Something that makes him valuable as a prisoner of hell.”

  I stared at my bland beige carpet, trying to put it all together in my head. “So you’re saying, as soon as we take the Wizard’s control away from Dave he dies again. But that leaves his soul vulnerable to the Magistrate.”

  “Exactly.”

  I met Raoul’s eyes, but the pity in them made me feel like bawling, so I went back to the carpet. When had I spilled Coke on it? “I can’t let my brother continue to be a zombie. He’d despise that. But
I can’t let the Magistrate get him either. Well, this sucks like a frigging leech.”

  “I agree.”

  I leaned back on the couch. Switched my gaze to the ceiling. Boring white tiles that did not work to distract me like I’d hoped. “I’ll have to figure out a way to fight the Magistrate.”

  “Not in this form,” Raoul reminded me. “You haven’t yet developed the ability.”

  “Okay. There’s a couple reavers left. I could probably get one of them to deliver him a challenge. Have him meet me in Tehran. But he might kick my ass since Asha’s tears didn’t really give me the boost I was hoping for, physically speaking. Maybe Vayl —”

  “Jasmine, the Magistrate is nefralim. That means the only way he can enter your world is to be summoned. Wait, what did you say?” asked Raoul. His voice, sharp with command, caused me to sit up straight like when I was seven, at the dinner table, and Albert had just ordered me to finish my lima beans.

  “Well, Vayl’s kind of pissed that I didn’t tell him about Asha right away. But he’ll probably be over it by sundown. If he takes my blood again maybe I’ll —”

  Raoul shook his head so hard I thought I heard his eyeballs rattle. “No. No, before that. Did Asha share his tears with you?”

  “Actually, I kind of had to guilt them out of him. And then they burned. And then nothing. Except I did see this flaming door, which Vayl said was a plane portal. I didn’t learn much more about it because Cole called to say a guy was threatening to kill our people, so we had to get back to the house. And then Vayl was mad at me about the Asha thing. So . . . what was your question?”

  Raoul smacked a hand on his thigh. “That may be the answer.”

  “Okay.” I waited, and when no information was immediately forthcoming said, “Raoul. Spill. Before I have to beat you. Which I’m kind of sure is a major sin.”

  “Asha’s tears have given you the ability to see the portals. But more than that, they have allowed you to step through them. Into neutral territory.” He was leaning so far forward he looked like he was preparing to take off, as if he’d just received an emergency call that required his unique skills. “This means you can meet the Magistrate physically. Anywhere. You can fight him using your abilities. Your weapons. All right, not the gun. But definitely the sword.” He looked at me, gave a sharp decisive nod. “You could beat him.”