Bitten in Two

by Jennifer Rardin

  “I can’t believe you need Miles this desperately,” Monique said again, more doubtfully than ever.

  “Earthquakes are no laughing matter,” Cole told her gravely. “Only he can tell us if the data we’ve picked up points to a big one.”

  I jumped in. “Would you like somebody to ride back to the riad with you, Monique? Maybe Sterling? Or”—I pulled Raoul up beside me so she could get an eyeful of the muscular chest and thighs even his camo couldn’t hide—“my friend Raoul could ride with you. He’s very protective. Better than a bodyguard.”

  Nothing. Her glance skittered off him like he was holding a mirror and went straight back to Bergman. “Thank you, no,” she said. “I drove Miles by myself, and I can get back the same way.” She leaned over him as we reached the car, giving him such a great view of her cleavage that he settled back in the chair like he was in it for the long haul. “You will be all right?” she asked, her voice dropping into that velvet purr only French women can seem to pull off.

  He grinned, his eyes rising to her lips as he licked his own. “You should probably ask me in the morning,” he said.

  “All right, then, I will.” She kissed her fingertips, laid them on his cheek, and then went off to find her car. The guys watched her go. All except Vayl, who was unlocking the doors and pulling a blanket out of the trunk so we could make Miles comfortable.

  As we began to help him into the car Bergman looked up at me and said, “That woman is after my body.”

  “Yes,” I agreed as Olivia Newton-John’s voice suddenly hooted out of Astral’s mouth. While she sang, “Let’s get physical, physical,” he looked down at himself in utter bafflement.

  “Do you have any idea why?” he asked.

  I eased his feet inside the car and said, “As far as she’s concerned you’re the total package. Twenty years younger, skinny enough to relish good food, with one of the finest minds on earth. Just, uh”—I motioned to his side, which was so heavily bandaged it looked like he was hiding a bomb under his shirt—“don’t let her hurt you, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I slid in beside him and Astral jumped into the back with Sterling, Raoul, and Cole. We’d put the top up, which meant Bergman’s balloon kept knocking everybody in the head but him. In fact, “Where’s my balloon?” he demanded as soon as Vayl slid the Galaxie into the street. We’d agreed he should drive so I could look after the patient. Who was starting to panic. “My balloon disappeared!”

  “It’s on your wrist!” I held his hand up to his face. Just barely thought better of slapping him with it.

  “Oh.”

  Silence. Not just golden. Jewel-encrusted and brimming with stardust. Vayl drove while the rest of us zipped it. We didn’t even move for fear we’d set Bergman off and make him undo all the work the doctor had put in on him. The tension had just begun to seep out of my toes and fingertips when Bergman said, “Jaz!”

  “What?”

  “I am so horny!”

  I dropped my forehead into my hand as Cole and Sterling broke into laughter. Maybe even Raoul added a chuckle or two, though I couldn’t tell because the other two were honking so loud.

  Bergman asked, “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been with a woman?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Five years! And then I had to pay for it. Which is so humiliating. Although I really shelled out the cash so she was supergreat. Like Cleopatra. Only not dead.” He turned completely around to face me, a feat only somebody as heavily drugged as he was could accomplish, considering he was both injured and seat belted. If we crashed he’d probably shoot straight out the top of the thing and smash into the roof. But no way would I worry about him now because he wasn’t even close to done grossing me out. In fact, he was asking me earnestly, “Is it so wrong to want a woman I don’t have to become a criminal to make love to?”

  I shook my head, wishing I was anywhere but here. Yes, even chasing Kyphas through hell would’ve been a more attractive option.

  What are the chances that he’ll totally blank on this conversation in the morning? “That’s reasonable,” I said.

  Bergman had clearly thought this out. He pointed to me, which made me gulp loudly, but he said, “Monique would be nice.”

  “Okay.”

  “Except she scares the shit out of me.”

  “Also reasonable.”

  “She’s very experienced.”

  “And that’s a problem for you?”

  “Yup. I’ve done a lot of reading. But, uh, theory is not at all like practice in these cases. I don’t think.”

  “I see. So what do you want to do?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Silence. This time not even close to a precious metal.

  Cole leaned forward, began to rub Bergman’s shoulders like he was getting ready for a big boxing match. “So, uh”—he stopped to clear the laughter out of his voice—“you want some advice from somebody who’s been there, buddy?”

  Of course he’s been there. This was my Inner Bimbo, sizing Cole up like he was a big old cheesecake and she hadn’t had dessert in a year. Then her eyes strayed to Vayl. Hmm, I wonder if…

  Shut up. This is about Miles. Getting with a cougar. Oh crap, I’m imagining it now. I think I’m gonna puke.

  Bergman said, “Yeah, okay. What do I need to know?”

  “You think too much,” said Cole.

  Sterling spoke up. “Waaay too much is my guess.”

  I looked over my shoulder in time to catch Cole winking at the warlock and nodding.

  “Just relax and see what happens, all right?”

  “Okay.”

  “Great! Now that Bergman’s love life is back on track can we talk about Astral?” I asked.

  “What about Astral?” Bergman frowned, picking up first one foot, then the other, like he thought he might find her flattened form underneath one of them. “Here, kitty!”

  “No!” I pointed back at the cat, who’d taken her favorite spot on the ledge beneath the back window. “You stay right there, missy.” Thankfully she was programmed to obey my voice above all others, so all she did was flick her tail and half close her eyes at me, as if to say, “I’m too comfortable to move anyway.”

  I leaned forward so I could catch Vayl’s eye. Okay, I’m about to give the tech-head here another reason to be in the hospital. Are you sure this is going to be worth it? I asked him silently. He gave me a short nod.

  So I told Miles what had happened in the smallest words I could manage. I ended with, “We need to get that map out of Astral. Your equipment—”

  “Should do the job,” Miles said, suddenly, remarkably, businesslike. “How far are we from the riad?”

  “Perhaps ten minutes,” Vayl said.

  “I think I’ll catch a nap then. I should try to be as alert as possible when it’s time to do the transfer.” And he promptly passed out.

  I watched him slide about five inches down the seat until the belt finally caught him just below the armpits. “Wow. He is so weird.”

  “Yes.” Vayl patted him on the head. “I am finally beginning to see why you like him.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  With only an hour until dawn and Kyphas an entire printed map ahead of us, we couldn’t waste a second babying our wounded, morphine-dazed comrade. That’s what I told myself, using Albert’s stern, no-arguments bark to make my point as I watched Vayl carry him upstairs to his equipment-packed room. But as soon as Bergman sat back in the orange cushioned chair he’d drawn up to the desk he’d transformed into computer central in the seating area of his suite, I checked his bandages. No blood had seeped through, so I felt sure the stitches had held.

  “You’re the best friend a guy ever had, you know that, Jaz?” Miles said, beaming up at me.

  “Yup. You want some water or something?”

  “Not around all these electronics. How about a root beer?”

  I turned away so he wouldn’t see me smile. “I’ll see what I ca
n do. Astral? Get your butt up on the desk. Bergman needs to do some work on you.”

  The cat leaped up as ordered, landing lightly between two monitors, and then ruining the effect by sitting squarely on a keyboard, making Bergman say something like, “Gah!”

  I moved to grab her but Vayl was quicker. He murmured, “Raoul needs to speak to you.”

  My Spirit Guide hadn’t ever fully come into the room. He stood outside the door, a party guest who’d realized he couldn’t stay after all. I joined him in the hall.

  “I have to go,” he said.

  “But… this is it.”

  “I understand. However, you don’t need me for it. And I’ve been called away.”

  I realized I might be dangerously close to pouting and pulled my face as close to neutral as I could manage. “Oh.”

  Raoul reached out, like he meant to lay his hand on my shoulder. But he wasn’t that type. If I’d been feeling nasty I’d have told him Nia probably sensed that and that’s why she’d preferred the cat to him. Then he said, “Others like you are in this fight as well. They rarely use your colorful language when they call, but they do occasionally ask for my assistance.”

  His smile reminded me that one of those was my twin, so maybe it would be good if I stepped back, took a look at the big picture, and stopped being so damn selfish every once in a while. “Oh! Well, yeah, then you have to go.”

  “Wait!” Bergman tried to get up, winced in pain, and let Vayl haul him to his feet. “Raoul. Before you leave, I have to ask you something.” He hobbled to the door, holding his side like he thought the support might help him move a little faster. When he got there, he looked at me for a full five seconds before I got the message that I wasn’t welcome in the conversation.

  I said, “Uh, yeah, well, see you later, Raoul. Uh, Sterling’s probably got questions about this whole mission that I still haven’t had time to answer.”

  Just before I could turn away Raoul grabbed me and gave me a lung-squishing hug. “Good luck,” he whispered. “If anyone can crush Brude forever, I know it’s you.”

  When he let me go I staggered a little, not so much because I was off balance, but because he’d known, probably all along, that I’d been fighting the Domytr’s possession. And he’d let me deal with it the way I wanted. He hadn’t pushed, ordered, or manipulated. He’d just… been there. I swallowed.

  “Thanks.” I nodded, blinking so the damn tears that kept surfacing when I least wanted them to would get the hell out of my way. Then I went to talk to the warlock. And by God, if he made me want to cry, I was going to grab his wand and wave it around until I was surrounded by toads and lizards. Because that’s one thing you can count on with reptiles. They’re just not into tender moments.

  Bergman found just enough lucid brain cells to connect Astral to a computer, access her latest entry, and print the map. While he typed short phrases into the computer and poked green and yellow buttons on his multi-machine, which, at the moment, was acting as a printer, we took turns making sure he stayed conscious and ducking out to arm ourselves for demon fighting. Hopefully we’d beat Kyphas to the Rocenz and be long gone before she ever showed up. But we hadn’t survived this long crossing our fingers and scrunching our eyes shut.

  When we’d first encountered the demon in Australia, only Cassandra had been carrying the kind of double-bladed weapon that can easily slice hellspawn’s hide. And none of us owned anything that could cause permanent damage. Raoul had raided his own supply to provide us with swords that had been forged by demon-fighters from way back. These are the folks you want smithing your steel when regular weapons take twice as long to cause even a minor injury. Raoul had built himself up quite a collection, and I still couldn’t quite believe he’d shared it with us, telling us we could keep the blades until our deal with Kyphas was done. Well, she might be finished with us, but we weren’t sure we felt the same.

  So each of us took a run to our rooms and belted on the gear Raoul had loaned us. Cole’s blade, long and heavy as a shovel, still sparkled like raindrops on a lake when he swung it. His strangely flexible shield fit snugly over one shoulder until he needed to bring it into action.

  Vayl’s cane-sword had evidently been crafted by a true master, because it damaged demon and wielder alike.

  My blade, which rode in a sheath at my back, felt like it had been custom-made for me, it carried so light and swung so smooth. That didn’t make it any less lethal. Maybe I’d have the chance to prove that tonight.

  When I got back to Bergman’s lair, he’d finished translating some writing on the map that had stumped Cole, despite his extensive knowledge of languages.

  “This cat’s amazing, you know that?” he asked me as I settled down on one of his cushy red chairs while Astral gave us both her inscrutable stare from the middle of his coffee table. It struck me then that she might be a frustrated centerpiece. But I was distracted from the thought when he shoved a copy of the map into my hands. “Look what she came up with.”

  I nodded over the paper, which had English written in place of the words we hadn’t been able to translate before. The paragraph at the top of the page read:

  Cursed and thrice cursed be ye who raise the Rocenz without offering proper dues or sacrifice. For Cryrise’s hammer and Frempreyn’s chisel may spell your salvation, or your doom.

  I found it harder to understand the words at the bottom:

  Who holds the hammer still must find the keys to the triple-locked door.

  “Wow, aren’t we all creepy and cryptic,” Cole said when Vayl had read out the entire translation.

  Bergman slumped farther down in his chair. “This is ridiculous,” he said, his words beginning to slur as his fight to stay awake began to fail. “Hammers? Chisels? And now keys? Ya know, whoever made this map doesn’t know squat about real treasure.” He shook his finger in the air, like he was lecturing a bunch of unruly fourth graders. “Diamonds, man! Silver crowns embedded with rubies the size of my fist! That’s what we’re supposed to be searching for!” He’d raised his hand to emphasize the point. Now he dropped it, plop, in his lap, like it weighed too much to bother with anymore. “I’m tired.”

  “Why don’t you go to bed, Miles? We’ve got it from here,” I said.

  Without waiting for his reply, Vayl picked him up and moved him to the bed, not even bothering to turn down the shimmering green spread before laying him gently on it. Bergman struggled to his elbows. “Where’s Astral? Jaz? Can Astral stay and, you know, keep me company?”

  “Of course.” I gave the cat her order and she trotted over to Miles, who was already snoring. After patting his face experimentally with one paw, she decided he wasn’t going to issue any commands in the near future, and curled up under his chin.

  I looked back at the guys, who were sitting on Bergman’s sofa, poring over the map.

  “So does anybody know what all these colored squares and circles are supposed to represent?” asked Cole.

  “Maybe it’s like a code,” said Sterling. “One color, or one sequence of colors, actually means a word.”

  Cole stared at them for a while. “I don’t see a pattern.”

  “Maybe it’s an actual map of someplace,” I suggested. They looked up at me.

  “Where?” asked Sterling. “There’s no reference to it. There’s not even a key on the map to tell you which square or circle is which landmark.”

  I held up my hand. “I know how we can find out.”

  I skipped downstairs and out the front door. “Yousef? I hope you’re not dragging poor Kamal along with you, because at four twenty in the morning I’d really think you were a lowlife.” I waited. “Yousef! Get out of the damn bushes!”

  Yousef stepped out from behind the thick growth of palm trees the original owner had planted at the front corner of Riad Almoravid. Sucker didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

  I grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

  He wouldn’t budge. Just stood there staring stupidly into
my face, like he’d just heard the world was about to end. I slapped him and he came alive, his eyes sparkling as he spoke rapidly. I looked around for Kamal, but the kid had finally found the backbone to send his friend out solo. So I beckoned for Yousef to follow me into the riad, which he did so eagerly I almost felt guilty. Until I reminded myself exactly what he was hoping to find on the other side of my bedroom door.

  We trotted up to Bergman’s. “This is Yousef,” I said, yanking my hand out of his once I’d finally gotten him through the door. “He’s my stalker. Yousef? These are my friends. Cole, could you translate?”

  Cole stood up, speaking quickly so our newest party guest wouldn’t run off before we could take advantage of his native knowledge. When it seemed like he’d run out of words I said, “Tell him we want to show him a picture and I want to know where in the city he thinks it’s located. Tell him I’d be very grateful if he’d think hard about what it could be before he says anything.”

  I nodded to Sterling, who handed Yousef the map. He glanced so casually at the writing that I decided he couldn’t read it. But the drawing he seemed to recognize right away, because he began speaking almost immediately.

  “Of course!” Cole translated. “This is the tannery! It has been here for centuries! You should come see. I will give you a tour.” He slapped himself on the chest proudly. “I give the skins second life.”

  Big aha! moment when I suddenly realized why Yousef and Kamal had smelled so rank and looked so—mustardy—the first time Cole and I had run into them. And why they’d been holding bath supplies. When you work at a place that makes you wish for a gas mask, you’re definitely going to hit the hammam after work so you can dip yourself in scented soap and aftershave.

  As Yousef chattered Cole explained. “Tanning is not just turning hides into leather for them. It’s mystical, watching the skin of a dead creature be reborn under their hands. These guys are also considered lords of fertility so, uh”—Cole started to grin—“if you’re having some problems in the baby-making department he says he’d be more than happy to lend you a hand.”