Jennifer Rardin - Jaz Parks Book 3 - Biting The Bullet

by Jennifer Rardin

  So what’s your point?

  I asked her dully.

  She snatched a popcorn kernel out of the bamboo bowl she held and poked it at me impatiently.

  What? Have you forgotten what we talked about all those Sunday afternoons?

  After church. After lunch. During our long, ambling walks around her farm. We’d talked about everything. But those were usually our get-serious times. When we kids could tell her anything that was on our minds and expect a nugget or two of wisdom in return. Often, however, due to how we’d spent our mornings, our talks had turned to the nature of good and evil, everything that fell between, and how to tell where you stood at any given moment.

  “Hell’s a real place,” she’d informed us. “Don’t you let anyone tell you different. And it’s not just a destination. It’s one of those powerful, sneaky places that will move in next door, wait until you’re looking in the other direction, then reach out and grab you if it can.”

  “How do you fight something like that?” I’d asked.

  Granny May had pursed her lips and looked at me sideways, her way of applauding me for asking the question she’d hoped for. “Purity of motive,” she’d responded. “Innocence of spirit.”

  Why, you sly old witch,

  I thought as the Magistrate loomed over me, his finely sculpted face set in a triumphant smile as he watched me weaken,

  you’ve fought demons before

  . Later, when I had time, I’d delve into Granny’s past. Right now, I’d just take her advice.

  I closed my eyes. And concentrated on the purest, most innocent person I knew.

  I could feel her. The same way I often felt Vayl through Cirilai and through my senses. E.J. hung out there at the edge of my psyche like a new star. So fine and bright I could feel the beauty of her being burning away my own darkness.

  The Magistrate jumped and squawked. I opened my eyes. His coils had retreated. He’d reared back, rubbing his hands as if they’d been singed.

  I reached out. Wrapped my own hands around E.J.’s cord.

  As soon as I touched it, the last, wilted vestiges of vine dropped away. I strummed it. Made the music uniquely suited to my niece. It filled the air, loud as a symphony, joyous as a Christmas carol.

  “No!” screamed the Magistrate, blocking both of his bleeding ears with his hands. “STOP!”

  I played on until the echoes of that fresh, uncorrupted song bounced off all the other cords around us, pulling out harmonies that made me weep with joy. Not so the Magistrate.

  He clutched at his black, glistening line. Tried to ride it back to its source. But it began to shred. Then

  he

  began to crack, like one of Evie’s porcelain dolls after a tumble off the shelf. His model’s body developed long fissures, as if everything inside it had shifted. His perfect face split. Skull and teeth, muscle and blood, replaced smooth red skin. But I continued to play until the Magistrate’s entire unbody shivered into pieces and the cord that bound him finally melted into tiny black globs of horror that fell like black rain back to where they’d begun.

  I let my hands drop. God, I was so tired. And my cord was starting to fade. A sure sign my body was weakening. But was it smart to return before I’d talked to Raoul? How vulnerable would that leave E.J.? On the other hand, Dave might need me back at the house. As I debated, I felt myself suddenly pushed — hard — back into physical.

  I felt my back bow as the pain of rejoining hit. When I finally regained my breath I only had enough to say, “What the . . . ”

  Vayl leaned over me. “Is everything all right?”

  I shook my head, trying to clear it.

  Raoul? What’s the word?

  No answer.

  Shit!

  “Cam!” I yelled. Natchez came running into the kitchen, took one look at me kneeling by David, who still wasn’t breathing, and slapped a tear from his cheek. “Where’s Cam?” I demanded.

  “Working on Grace.”

  “Get him! Now!”

  Natch was back in thirty seconds with the entire team in tow.

  “CPR!” I snapped. “Now!”

  Without a word Cam went to his knees and started chest compressions.

  “I thought you said Raoul —” Cole began.

  “I’m not leaving it up to him,” I growled. I bent down to give Dave some air.

  The door flew open again and Cassandra ran into the room. “Jasmine, I can See again!” she cried. She looked like she’d prefer to remain in Curtainland.

  I nodded, saving my breath for Dave.

  “You have to leave!” Cassandra said, her voice shaking with barely checked emotion.

  “What?”

  “A vision. Terrible destruction. Mass murders. Black smoke from fire bombings. Thousands of innocents dead in the rubble. The Wizard will not be stopped unless you go for him now!”

  I looked down at my brother, tears blinding me as I struggled to my feet. Jet took my place as Vayl led me out of the kitchen, into the guys’ room, where Cassandra had secreted the items she needed for her spell.

  She’d explained earlier that it was based on my already heightened abilities to track

  others

  . So far the only way I could follow a trail was to find its source first. This spell would not only show me the source, it would impress the Wizard’s psychic scent on my brain so I could follow it if he moved to another location before we arrived.

  Cassandra held out her hand for the ohm, which I was only too glad to get rid of. She took one of Bergman’s small hammers, broke open the plastic casing, and pulled from the wreckage a small white bone.

  “What is that?” I asked, not even recognizing my own voice. I sounded like a robot. Yeah, somewhere along the line I’d switched to full automatic. There’d be hell to pay when I took back the reins. But until then I could at least do my job.

  Cassandra said, “When you locate the Wizard, I believe you will notice he is missing part of a finger.”

  I nodded. That would be the least of his worries when I found him.

  Cole came in.

  “Anything yet?” I asked him.

  He shook his head.

  Goddammit, Raoul,

  do

  something!

  I turned my attention, such as it was, back to Cassandra. She’d laid the finger bone on the floor in the center of a circle of yellow powder. “Now, Jaz,” she said tightly. “Lean your head over the circle.”

  I did as I was told, not much caring what came next. If she’d set the powder on fire and, by proximity, my hair, I wouldn’t have muttered a word of protest. Instead she sprinkled a sparkly white substance, like sugar only with bigger crystals, on top of the powder. At the same time she whispered a series of funky words.

  “Ayada. Torenia. Terell avatam latem.”

  The circle ignited into a sort of mini electric storm, with my head as the locus. Every time I breathed in or swallowed I tasted iron. My eyes felt gritty, and no matter how often I blinked, it seemed like an eyelash the size of a giant redwood was caught inside my contact lenses. My head began to throb, but I welcomed the pain. I deserved no less for what I’d done to my brother. No matter that he’d never have wanted his current existence. He was now lying dead on the kitchen floor because of me.

  The storm ended suddenly, leaving me on all fours, panting like a dehydrated hound dog. But I had it. The scent of the Wizard. My lips drew back at its stench. A mix of bloated corpse, stagnant water, and really cheap aftershave. And I’d thought vampires were bad.

  “I know where he is,” I said. I stood up, swayed dangerously, grabbed on to Vayl and Cole as they straightened me up again. “We’re going to need some wheels. And a couple more guns.”

  The four of us went back into the kitchen.

  “David!” Cassandra went to her knees beside my twin. Who was sitting up. Shaking hands. Not smiling. But not ripping anybody a new one either.

  I stopped just inside the doorway, my hands clutching Vayl
and Cole each by the forearm. Otherwise I definitely would have fallen. The relief took the juice completely out of my legs. But since Cassandra was doing my sobbing for me, I was able to stand dry-eyed. Waiting for his verdict.

  He looked into my eyes and the room went silent. “I could never have done what you’ve done,” he finally said. “You’re an amazing woman. Thank you.”

  I bobbed my head, pressing my lips together so I wouldn’t start blubbering. Because the next step would definitely be snot bubbles. And I so did not want to ruin this moment with snot bubbles. So I did it with work.

  “I can’t even tell you how happy I am to have you back. But we have to go,” I told him. “Cassandra says if we don’t, the Wizard will go free.”

  “You know where he is?” asked Cam as David’s face drained of the little color he’d regained at the mention of his former master.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’re taking the TV van.”

  “Then you’ll have room for us,” said Jet, rising with the sort of try-to-stop-me purpose I’d learned early on not to fight against.

  I shrugged and said, “Yeah, okay, whoever wants to come.”

  “That would be all of us,” said Dave. He struggled to his feet. And rather than let him embarrass himself, Cam and Natchez gave him a hand. He looked around. “Where’s Grace? We’re going to need her too.”

  “She’s been injured,” I said shortly, unwilling to take him on that guilt trip for the moment. We all knew better than to try to talk Dave out of coming with us. Still, it was easily the worst idea of all time. I needed him gone. Far away. Preferably in another time zone, where we could only speak via sat phone, our signals kissing cheeks as they met at a dish not unlike the one that sat atop the TV van.

  Which gave me the brightest idea ever. Inside my head, Granny May grinned, nodded with approval, and said,

  Finally

  .

  “I need you and Jet at the TV station,” I told Dave. “Right now it’s being manned by the two remaining reavers who were sent to take me out. You need to either get control of them, so they’ll obey your orders, or kill them and then figure out how to receive a live feed from the van and then transmit it out the tower. Just remember, if you do kill them, you’ll also have to contend with mahghul.” I described the little buggers and briefly explained my own showdown with them in front of the temple.

  “It sounds as if you have a plan,” said Vayl.

  I tried to contain my rising excitement, but as I continued to roll the idea around in my brain and couldn’t think of any huge stoppers, I couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Maybe,” I said. “Just maybe there’s a way we can save our asses while we accomplish this one. Bergman? We’re going to need your expertise, buddy. Looks like you’re really going to earn that vacation tonight.”

  Fleeting look of fear. Then it was replaced by a new expression. Bergman and determination: I kind of thought they looked good on each other. He nodded sharply. “You’ve got me.”

  “Cam, don’t you guys all carry first aid kits?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m going to need to fake an injury to my left hand.” He looked bewildered, but knew better than to ask questions while I was on a roll. As he left to get his supplies I spec-phoned Asha. “How’s it going on your end?” I asked.

  “Excellent. You would not believe the plans FarjAd and Zarsa have made! I think they have pulled apart the seams of the world and resewn them four different times since they met! Zarsa believes she can use her Gift to help FarjAd survive any future attacks. And he thinks having a woman of her ability and family support will bring even more people to his movement. And you?”

  “So far, so good. But I have another favor to ask: We need your wheels one last time.” I explained our mission and my plan as well as I could in ten seconds.

  “I will be right there,” he said. I had to give Asha his pats. When he finally decided to step back into the ring, he did it with both feet.

  We all escorted Dave to the living room to wait with Jet for Asha. Cassandra would stay with them too until they left, at which time she’d go back to Grace. The Amazon was definitely getting the short end of the stick on this one. But considering Dave had just died — again — I wasn’t wasting any sympathy on her.

  “I’ll be okay,” Dave kept insisting as one by one we asked him if we could get him anything before we left. It just felt wrong to go. We should be celebrating. We should be bouncing off the ceilings, for chrissake! And instead we were deserting the man whose resurrection we had all hoped and prayed for. Not only that. We were allowing him to step back into a life-or-death situation. Despite the fact that we all knew none of us had any other choice, it sucked.

  One thing I could do.

  Raoul? You are keeping some sort of watch, right? Over him? Over E.J.?

  THEY ARE WELL PROTECTED.

  And that would have to do for now. I patted Dave as we finally ran out of excuses not to go. “Be careful, please. If I have to bring you back to life again, Raoul’s going to want something major, like a virgin sacrifice. And I need Bergman too badly to give him up at this point.”

  Dave laughed, as he was meant to. It brought a whole new meaning to the phrase “music to my ears.” Then, so suddenly it took my breath away, he swung me into a bear hug, lifting me until my toes barely touched the floor. “I love you,” he said. “And about Jessie? I understand. And I forgive you.”

  I stood back in his arms. Grateful for his words. Certain they came from his heart. But also sure that heart was no longer as comfortable as it once was. I could see it in his eyes. In the way he looked at his men and then quickly at his fists, so they wouldn’t catch the flicker of rage. Not at them. At himself, for consorting with their enemy. For endangering their lives and their country. It didn’t make sense. Maybe it never would. But I understood. He’d only begun to deal with the realities of what he’d done. And even though he hadn’t been responsible, he was still the boss. So he

  felt

  like he was. Maybe we could talk it through. Later. Right now — it was time to finish the mission.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  T

  he Wizard headquartered in the northern part of the city, where the mountains loomed over the rooftops like angry gods. I eyed his house through the rolled-down window of the TV van, charmed by the visual despite knowing its contents. The three-story confection reminded me of a miniature Taj Mahal, a bright white masterpiece complete with turrets and five separate domed roofs. It stood surrounded by a large well-lit yard, securely fenced by a six-foot wall of mauve-tinted concrete. Not a very nondescript home in which to hide the King of Chaos. However the Wizard was also Delir Kazimi, a well-known businessman and community leader. Popular due to his generous contributions to charity. For him the mini mansion, his home away from his Saudi headquarters, fit.

  However, its designers had clearly put security first. Cameras perched on the corners of the fence and on strategic points of the house itself. Only one gate allowed access from the front, and that crossed a cement driveway. This led me to assume pedestrian visitors were not welcome at Chez Wiz. While that gate wasn’t manned, it was guarded by an intimidating-looking digital lock whose keypad required you to put your hand entirely inside a metal box. I imagined if your fingerprints didn’t match the scan a small blade came down and chopped it right off.

  As I took a turn around the block my specs notified me of an incoming call. It was Jet.

  “Everything’s secure here,” he said.

  “How’s Dave?”

  “About like you’d expect.”

  I took that as a tired-but-functioning and decided to be satisfied. “Okay. We’ll call when we’re ready for you.” I broke contact.

  As I approached the front of the place again, I reviewed the conversation we’d had on the way to the Wizard’s backup stronghold, looking for holes in our admittedly flimsy and alarmingly last-minute plan.

  “Jasmine and I will go in alone,” Vayl h
ad said as I drove, following the pull of the Wizard’s scent, taking as straight a route as I could manage without actually mowing through yards and parks.

  “Vayl’s got a way of moving unnoticed that even you guys can’t match,” Bergman had explained. He’d taken one of the four available chairs, with Cole, Cam, and Natchez filling the other three. If they’d pulled them up to the banks of monitors and electronic controls that lined the walls of the van, they could’ve covered the summer Olympics. As it was they simply belted in and made sure their weapons were ready to fire.

  “Fine,” said Cam, twirling in his chair so he could see Vayl better. “What’s our role?”

  “Bait,” he said frankly. I glanced in the rearview to see how Bergman would take this morsel. Looked to me like he was forcing himself to chew, fighting his ingrained urge to regurge.

  Well, what do you know? He really meant it when he said he was tired of being a wuss

  .

  As I reworked my perspective of him to include some newfound respect, Vayl went on. “Jasmine and I are betting the Wizard will not be able to resist the lure of this TV truck since he just received an anonymous tip — thanks to Bergman — that Edward Samos has taken control of the station and has sent reavers to initiate the coup Jasmine mentioned to David just after we entered the country. He will send his guards to take it out. It will be up to you four to make sure that does not happen.”

  “Understood,” said Cam, gritting his teeth on his toothpick as he spoke. “We’ll have the drop on them, so if we plan well it could even go down without a fight.” The rest of the men nodded and put their heads together. Before they could begin formulating a plan, Vayl signaled Cole.

  “As soon as you catch sight of them, let us know,” he said. “It will mean they have temporarily disabled their security system, which will be our cue to move into the house.”

  I wished Bergman had brought enough hi-tech instant-communications devices for the whole bunch of us, but he hadn’t anticipated such a large group needing to network on our dime. So, while Cole could talk to us through his stick-on transmitter, if anyone else on the team wanted a word, he’d have to use Cole as a relay.