“Yeah, I figured that would make you happy. You can have the rest of your present when you get back home. Party at my house next weekend. Be there.”
“Okay.” I hope. “Love you.”
“Same here. Buy me something extravagant while you’re in Morocco.”
“It’s my frigging birthday!”
“Okay, buy yourself something too.”
She was still laughing when we hung up.
CHAPTER FIVE
I’d heard from Dave earlier in the day, a short text reminding me that although I’d been born a few minutes before him, he was still bigger and therefore deserved more gifts. Also Cassandra had confessed that she’d let their engagement news slip, and because he knew I’d bullied the information from her, I owed them dinner. That he’d left Kyphas out of the message meant Cassandra still hadn’t told him the rest of the story—that the demon had come after her because the holy contract she and Dave had entered nullified all the protections she’d used to successfully duck their deal for over five hundred years. At least he knew about that. But she should know that any guy who’ll marry somebody who once traded her soul for the death of the slaver who raped her will also roll with the follow-up punches.
I wondered if Albert would approve of her if he knew what she’d done. And then I decided it didn’t matter, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him. And if he was pissed at me, that meant he wouldn’t call at all, so I’d never even have the chance. It also meant I could leave the cool, dark corner of the gazebo and rejoin my crew in the lounge.
The room was dominated by a brown wicker couch upholstered with the same dark green palm-dotted material as Kyphas’s chair. In front of it sat matching square coffee tables that usually held vases of fresh roses. Fat forest-green floor pillows sat at their bases. Overlooking the whole scene was a painting of kestrels, six of them flying in a background so black it reminded me of the maw of a ravenous monster.
The painting looked less ominous when Cole joined Bergman and Monique beneath it, wiggling his butt between theirs, his easy grin making even Bergman’s shoulders relax enough that I was fairly certain the blades weren’t meeting at his spine anymore. He still kept picking nervously at his jeans, a new pair without the rips or bleach stains that made him happiest. He’d stepped even farther out of his comfort zone by changing from his typical pullover to a shirt in gray and white plaid with only one missing button near the tuck, which Monique probably thought was cute. Maybe she even liked the pocket protector, which contained a pen in each color, a tire gauge, and a calculator that folded to the size of a paper clip.
But she might as well give up hoping that he wasn’t so distracted by his dress-up clothes that he’d notice her wardrobe change. Instead of the white dress with lavender flowers she’d worn all day, she’d chosen a low-cut strappy number with an ivory background covered in amber vines. Faceted amber gems surrounded by black beads dangled from her ears, and the same gems sparkled along the straps of her sandals. The whole outfit complemented her smooth skin and silky black hair, which Kyphas seemed more interested in than Bergman. Probably because Cole had just taken the time to tell her how pretty she looked before nudging Bergman, hard, with his elbow.
“Uh, yeah, you look great,” Miles agreed. He pulled at his collar.
When the silence got awkward Monique stepped in. “I think Kyphas looks lovely as well, don’t you, Cole?” As Cole murmured an agreement, she turned to the demon. “Where in the world did you get that lovely dress? I have never seen such a pattern!”
I hadn’t either. She’d worn a little black number with bell-shaped sleeves and a scoop neck. Splashed onto that background were huge white flowers. At least that’s what they looked like at first. But if you let your eyes go blurry the flowers began to resemble skulls.
Kyphas said, “My mother’s a designer. She put it together for me.”
Vayl said, “I thought your mother was a scullery maid.”
Oh. Shit.
He stood near the edge of the room like the shy kid who knows he doesn’t belong and has no idea how to make it better. As if the warmth of the room didn’t affect him, he still wore his duster over a white silk shirt tucked into black trousers. Where he’d found suspenders to replace his belt I had no clue, but they suited him, as did the walking stick he’d picked up in the Djemaa el Fna.
Unfortunately his view on us didn’t fit nearly as well. After a brief, strained silence, Cole was the first to recover. He laughed and said, “Oh, you know how it is, sir. Daughters say a lot of things when they’re angry. Monique! Should we light the birthday candles?”
Huge uproar as we all loudly agreed that we should start a small, controlled fire. I kept my eye on Vayl as Monique went to the cake, which she’d set on the coffee table closest to the wall. He got over our weirdness with astounding speed, but that may have been due to the fact that he’d found a better area for his focus. The confection fascinated him. And why not? Vayl had probably never seen a dessert quite so… loud… in 1777.
Three layers of chocolaty roundness covered in hot-pink icing and silver sprinkles, my cake was decorated with silver and neon-blue flourishes shaped like banana peppers. In the middle the baker had written Joyeux Anniversaire! in big blue letters. My enhanced vision, an ability I’d developed the first time I’d donated blood to Vayl, usually added extra colors to the mix. In this case it caused the red and silver dots of icing between the peppers to glow. Like they were radioactive. I started to grin.
“This has to be the most obnoxious birthday cake anyone has ever gotten for me.” I looked at Monique, whose soft brown eyes had gone the size of lightbulbs.
She looked at Bergman hesitantly. “Obnoxious is good?”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. Cole, for instance, is one of the most obnoxious guys I know and women can’t get enough of him.”
Her laugh was so sultry I expected the couch to unfold into a bed right then and there. Bergman, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to stop obsessing about his dress-up clothes. He said, “Cole could probably get a date wearing prison stripes. But he tells me I have to raise my game if I want any action.” He pulled his shirt away from his chest. “My game is itchy!”
I’m gonna nickname him Clueless McGee, I thought as Cole tried to get Bergman to shut the hell up and Kyphas laughed out loud.
Luckily Monique’s humor was as long as her patience, and she just chuckled along with Kyphas as she said, “But it was so kind of you to do this for your friend. Come, help me serve the cake. It will take your mind off your discomfort.”
She’d put all the necessary accessories on the second table, which sat at Bergman’s knees, running him out of lame excuses before he could even begin. And when Monique sent Cole to the kitchen for the coffeepot, Miles had no choice but to let her snuggle a little closer as she cut the cake.
I accepted my honorary first piece from Clueless McGee, who whispered, “Eat fast, I need to get back to my computer,” without telling him what an idiot he was. I was, however, forced to turn my head so he wouldn’t see me rolling my eyes. Which was when I noticed Vayl frowning. As I went to him, Kyphas leaned over and murmured, “How’s the romance brewing between you two? Is Vayl into older women? Or does he get all snooty about banging the hired help?”
I considered stomping the demon’s foot and playing it off as a tripping incident, but nobody who mattered would buy it and I’d just end up looking petty. Which, okay, maybe I was a little. But this time I decided to rise above and settle for quiet disdain. Ignoring Kyphas as if she was no more important to me than a wiggly white maggot, I marched past her and up to my boss. Whose orders I had regularly ignored for the past few days. But still.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the dessert. “I did not realize it was your birthday. I apologize. I have nothing for you.”
“That’s fine. I’m used to it.”
When he looked at me, his eyes were that hurricane blue th
at let me know he was genuinely disturbed. “That is the problem. Somehow I knew your birthdays were never special. And I meant to make this year different, but I failed you.”
I watched him struggle to understand.
Come on, Vayl. Work it out!
When he looked at me again his eyes had darkened to everyday brown. “Ah well, perhaps we will find you something pretty in the souk when we go back out tonight, yes?”
My throat tightened so much I had to swallow before I could say, “Sure. That would be great.”
Kyphas chuckling behind me dropped my mood to the gutter, so when Vayl said, “Monique, I wonder if you can tell us where we might find a Sister of the Second Sight?” I wanted to inform him just what the vision of his future was going to hold if he didn’t pull his head out of his ass and start seeing me straight!
I shoved a huge bite of cake into my mouth so I wouldn’t say anything I’d regret later and nodded at our hostess, winking to let her know it tasted great as she gaped at me. Then she remembered that at least she had manners and replied, “In fact, yes, Monsieur Brâncoveanu. A Sister named Hafeza Ghoumari lives just northwest of the Djemaa el Fna. You can visit her tomorrow if you like. Her souk opens at nine o’clock.”
The line between Vayl’s eyes deepened. “You mean, she does not do readings at night?”
“Only by appointment. You could call and leave a message.”
“Then that is what we will do.”
Monique went back to mutilating my cake and sending Bergman around the room with the pieces.
Vayl turned to me. “You must pay a call on Madame Ghoumari first thing tomorrow and make an appointment. I want to see her as soon after I wake as possible.”
I put my hand on the phone in my jacket pocket. “But I could just—” Then I stopped. When people said “call” Vayl’s mind went to putting your feet on the welcome mat, because to him phones didn’t exist yet. “Okay. I’ll make the arrangements.”
What a colossal pain in the ass this whole deal is turning out to be. If this isn’t some sort of vampiric disease, but an actual attack on him, and I someday come face-to-face with the person responsible? We’re talking some meticulous, well-orchestrated torture before we ever get down to the killing.
Now that he was finished with me, Vayl ignored me like I was an embarrassing relative. I stood on the other side of the doorframe and jammed a whole day’s worth of calories into my mouth, wishing it didn’t taste so good because now I wanted to eat the whole cake. With my hands. I could just see myself at the end, sitting on a crumb-covered pillow, my face smeared with fuchsia icing, bawling because I’d just consumed a week’s worth of meals in one sitting and I still wanted to punch my lover in the face!
Okay, this is pathetic. Go to your room. Get a grip. Call Cassandra. Call Sterling if you have to. Get some sleep. In the morning you’ll have a better idea what to do.
I was on the landing, heading up the second set of steps when Kyphas caught me.
“Are you insane?” she asked. My adrenaline surged as her eyes flashed yellow in the light of the glittering glass chandelier that hung from the ceiling.
I spun, facing her completely, as if she’d pulled on me and we were about to do battle. But she stood still at the bottom of the stairs, her hands at her sides, one of them clutching a tahruyt, which anyone else would’ve thought she’d bought on her latest shopping trip. Of Berber weave, the scarf’s gold and ochre stripes brought out the repetitive black designs tooled on top of them, one of which resembled intertwined sickles, while the other reminded me of dagger-impaled hearts. But I knew the tahruyt was more than it seemed. Just like I knew Kyphas couldn’t be shrugged off as an exceptionally beautiful American girl whose braid shone like ripe wheat on her shoulder.
I kept a wary eye on the tahruyt as I said, “The last time I checked, Vayl was the one having trouble with reality.”
“That’s exactly my point.” She came to stand on the same tread as me. I moved toward the wall, glad that we’d rented a place where even the stairs were wide enough to grab personal space.
I said, “What, that I’m crazy because Vayl can’t figure out what year it is?”
She shook her head. “I’m standing here looking at you, thinking you’re nuts for still hanging around. I mean, you and Vayl have been together as a couple for what, two weeks?”
“More like eleven days,” I mumbled.
Her mouth drooped, like I’d just rescinded all her vacation time. “You don’t have that much invested in this relationship. And you’re looking at eternity with a man who can’t remember one single moment of the time you spent together as a couple. Why aren’t you and Cole on a plane to Cleveland right now? I mean, there’s a guy who knows your real name.” She raised her fingers to tick off the advantages as she listed them. “He loves you; I’ve heard him say so. He’s not a vampire, so you could have children. He’s funny. He’s sweet. Where’s the downside?”
She forgot to say he’s yummy. It was my Inner Bimbo, staying home for once. It must’ve been Monday in my mind. Which made a lot of sense, considering. She lounged in a black negligee and transparent robe on a round bed covered with a faux tiger-skin spread. I’m imagining Cole in a pair of skimpy black shorts, all oiled up like one of those calendar models. Yup. He’d be way more fun than—
Shut up, I told her. Anyone who’d do it in the back of a ’79 Pinto doesn’t get a vote.
But Kyphas sure thought she had a say. “Vayl is only going to become a bigger burden to you. Cut him loose before his enemies realize he’s become vulnerable and you spend what’s left of your life fighting for a brief interlude that will never happen again.”
I leaned in to the wall, feeling the knife in my pocket slide back as my balance changed. “I could have Cole anytime I wanted. I don’t need your help, if it comes to that. So why are you really here?”
She nodded, giving me a good-on-you look that reminded me of all the times I’d passed Vayl’s little tests. The bitch. “I knew you were a quick study. Of course, if you really wanted Cole, I could smooth the road for the rest of your lives. But you and I both know he’s not your true desire.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “You want Vayl back? I could give him to you. Along with your job. Just like it was before your boss went and got his throat slashed.”
“Who did it?” I demanded.
She wagged a finger in front of my face, which I had a juvenile desire to bite. “Information is expensive, Jasmine. Are you willing to pay for the name of Pete’s killer?”
I realized I’d pushed forward, letting her know how eager I was for any facts I could gather related to his case. I let my shoulder blades fall against the wall.
“All right, then,” said Kyphas. “For Vayl? What would you give to have your greatest love back? How much do you miss Vayl right this minute? Or Matt? I could give you either one, just like this.” She snapped her fingers. Was it just me, or did I see a spark light the air along with the sound? I felt something move inside my chest. Vayl. Matt. The two best things that had ever happened to me. Both lost by the age of twenty-six. Boy, could I pick ’em, or what?
I peered toward the lounge, where Cole’s laughter, Bergman’s staccato comments, and Monique’s soft tones offset the rumble of Vayl’s voice. Even from here his presence made me feel a little less like feeding Kyphas a couple of bullets. So what if I could have him back? Or Matt? What if I could close my eyes, turn around, and see him standing there, smiling, just like he’d been the morning before he died. Saying, “I love you, Jazzer. After we get married, let’s dump this gig, build a big house, and fill it with dogs and kids and bowls of fruit salad!” And I’d laugh and throw a pillow at him, and maybe we wouldn’t leave the bedroom right away after all.
I slid my hand into my pocket, said, “So this is how you do it, huh?”
“Do what?”
“Corrupt decent people. You start talking to them about the gravel-road stuff they’re pondering. Be
cause everybody has thoughts like that. It’s just part of the shit your brain churns up every day. Demons, though, they take that shit and make it seem like a newly sealed interstate.”
“It’s not?”
“Not when you factor in the price.”
“But you’re tempted.”
“I am human.” I’m human. After all this time and all that’s happened, I’m still… I began to smile.
“You’ve got no reason to show your teeth,” Kyphas snapped. “You’re more miserable than you’ve been in nearly two years.”
“Nope. Maybe you have to strip the meat off a relationship to understand what its bindings are made of. And that’s why Vayl could never tell me full out what it meant to be the avhar to his sverhamin. He just had to slip his ring on my finger and hope someday I’d figure it out for myself.” I held Cirilai up to the light coming from the hall. The red facets reflecting on Kyphas’s face made her look diseased.
“Oh, right,” she scoffed. “Your lover thinks you’re a fat old lady and suddenly you understand why you can’t leave him?”
I shrugged. “Ten days. Ten years. Time stops counting when you’ve found somebody you can’t live without for the second time in your life. He’s mine, Kyphas. I’m not leaving him. And I’m going to bring him back. He deserves that from me.”
I didn’t react when I caught the movement of her hand out of the corner of my eye. She’d banged the tahruyt against her thigh hard enough to transform it into a sword whose shape I recognized immediately. Straight at the top, curved and tapered at its razor-sharp bottom, the flyssa was a local creation, especially beautiful because of the brass design inlaid along its spine. The pommel of Kyphas’s blade, shaped like a bird of prey, flashed its ruby eye at me as she raised her hand.
Bitten in Two Page 5
