Bitten in Two

by Jennifer Rardin

  I’d lived with Miles all three years that he’d gone to grad school. And what I remembered most about that time was the day he came back to the apartment, soaked to the skin after walking twelve blocks in one of those monsoons you occasionally get in the Midwest in late April. I’d said, “Damn, Bergman, you look miserable.”

  And he’d replied, “I am. But it’s amazing how clearly you think when nothing can get any worse. I know what I want to do with the rest of my life now.”

  “Does it have anything to do with inventing umbrellas that flip out of your backpack at the first hint of rain?” I’d asked.

  “Nope,” he’d said. And he hadn’t explained, but he’d had the most satisfied look on his face. Not pipe-and-slippers contented. No, this was more I-have-found-the-Grail happy. I hadn’t seen that expression on him again. Until now.

  I gave myself a second to be grateful I could see at all considering the fact that my eyes still weren’t sure they belonged in their sockets, my head felt like it had been laboratory tested by Impact-Wrenches-United, and I’d only now managed to regain enough of a grip to pull myself up Kyphas’s window high enough to lock my arms around its edge.

  Exhaustion forced me to take a short break before I did the rest of the climb. During which time I noted that Kyphas sat on a prayer mat she’d obviously stolen from a heathen, since she wasn’t developing boils by having contact with it. She was still holding the Rocenz, but she’d taken a break from her work to gape at Bergman, who stood in the doorway with Astral at his side. Kittybot’s butt was still smoking, which meant instead of convalescing, Miles had been inventing some sort of anti-spawn missile especially tuned to her launching capabilities. Which meant he’d been planning this for a while. Had he programmed that smug expression on Astral’s face too, or should I just assume it was a cat thing?

  I cursed myself for not ordering her to force Bergman to stay in his room and recover. Because he looked so thin and ethereal standing there that he could’ve passed for his own shadow. Except for the silver tools flashing in both of his hands. At least, that’s what my mind told me they were. It was Bergman after all. Lord of the miniature screwdriver. Why would I assume he’d be carrying a pair of Eldhayr daggers?

  Except that I’d seen him take Raoul aside before my Spirit Guide had left for missions unknown. I’d registered the I-have-serious-business look on Bergman’s face. I just hadn’t gotten nosy about it because Miles was Mr. Secretive. Why ask when you know your pal is never gonna tell?

  Now it all came together in the amount of time it took for Bergman to raise those finely crafted knives as if he was about to carve the Thanksgiving turkey. He’d gone to Raoul to demand weapons that could injure a demon. And before that, his contemptuous look at Kyphas should’ve been my clue. He’d been planning this then, deciding, for all of our sakes, that he had to be the one to kill her.

  I pulled myself into the room and ran toward them.

  “KYPHAS!” I screamed before she could break him in two like she’d tried to do in Australia. She jerked around, her eyes widening as she saw me lunging toward her, pulling my double-edged blade from its sheath as I shouted, “Me and you! Right now!”

  Even as I attacked I wanted to swear. Because Bergman wasn’t backing off. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the blood spreading through his shirt as he strode forward and drove the right-hand knife deep into her side.

  Wait? Why is his chest bloody?

  But no one had time to answer my questions. Kyphas was screaming, twisting to fight him. She tried to bring the hammer down on his head, but Bergman blocked her easily as he drove the second knife into her shoulder.

  “Ridiculous little speck!” Kyphas screeched. “I’m going to beat you until even your own mother won’t recognize you!”

  He stretched out his arms. “Bring it on!”

  She slammed both fists into his chest, throwing him so far back into the hall that all I could see were the soles of his shoes. But then her wailing distracted me. She was kneeling, staring at her hands, which were red with Bergman’s blood. They’d begun to steam, as if she’d just stuck them in a bowl of acid.

  I dove for the stone, but she grabbed it first and shoved it back inside her chest. Then she slammed the pieces of the Rocenz together, though I could tell it tortured her to grasp anything in her burning hands.

  She took a wild swing at me and missed.

  I stabbed in and up, but she jumped back just in time to sustain a scratch that would probably heal before the fight was over.

  Miles came scrambling back, his shirt flapping open in the breeze he made so we could both see the dove he’d carved on his own chest.

  “Those knives I left in you have the blood of my dove on them,” he told her. “Just like your hands do. I assume you know what that means.”

  I did. The contact with a holy symbol had weakened her. No wonder I could fight with her on my own level. But that wasn’t all.

  Looking as ill as if she’d just ingested poison, she rose to her knees and reached out. “No. Please.”

  He grabbed her wrists and said, “I’m sending you back to hell with the mark of holiness on you. They’ll tear you to pieces. Just like that man did to my friend when we were kids.” He began dragging her away from me, toward the hall. He must be heading for the canal. Which meant he’d been keeping tabs on the Party Line, the skunk.

  But he looked anything but guilty as he pulled Kyphas down the rickety stairs. He said, “You knew some horrifying details. Which meant you watched that monster torture and kill my friend. You let it all happen so you could snatch his soul and use it for bait to hook mine years later. Did it ever once occur to you to step in?” He glared at her. “Naw. ’Cause you hellspawn with your pretty faces and your demented quotas couldn’t care less about the innocent.”

  Bergman dragged Kyphas closer and closer to the canal while I stalked them like Yousef had been trailing me before, desperate to find my way into the action but certain of the kind of welcome I’d get if I picked the wrong approach. So I followed at a respectful distance and kept my trap shut, knowing that if I threw Bergman off his game now Kyphas would seize the advantage and break every bone in his body.

  Cirilai sent wave after wave of warmth up my arm, telling me that Vayl and Cole were on their way. The fact that neither they nor Sterling had said a word meant they thought Bergman had plugged into the Party Line too. Sucked a little that we’d have to communicate using hand signals and instinct, but you took what you got. I could only hope that Sterling had been around us long enough to tune into our vibe.

  Which left the robokitty, still trotting at Bergman’s feet like she’d been trained to heel. Hard to tell how she could help, especially if Bergman had already used one of her ass grenades to break down Kyphas’s door. Too bad we couldn’t fit a whole arsenal into that sleek little torso of hers. Then we could back her up to the plane portal and have her lob them right into hell. I’d be willing to bet that just viewing the wreckage would make all of Kyphas’s working parts seize up like an oil-starved engine.

  Which brought me back to Raoul, who liked engines, especially when they were pulling trains. I nearly called him then. But he’d given Bergman the daggers to start with. He’d known this moment had been brewing. Could probably see it all happening from his penthouse on-high. So what if Cole crapped out in the process? An acceptable loss, maybe. Or maybe he just liked hearing me beg for my loved one’s lives.

  I did nearly fall to my knees when that thunderous voice of his filled my head, blasting away all doubt as to who was the more powerful of us two, and therefore likely to kick my ass into oblivion.

  YOU ARE POISED AT THE EDGE OF YOUR LIFE’S PRECIPICE. YOU CAN CLIMB. OR FALL. BUT YOU MUST MOVE!

  Raoul’s undertone came clear to me as well. Stop whining and do what you do best. Not everything is your fault. Cole left the Trust, which made him vulnerable to Kyphas and the Rocenz. Bergman’s fury at his helplessness as a child led him to choose the time and mo
ment of his attack. Don’t let their actions, and your fear of the consequences, paralyze you.

  I took a deep breath, paused to reload Grief, and moved on.

  I caught up to Bergman, Astral, and Kyphas at the edge of the alcove. Leaning against the corner of the building for the few seconds it took to wipe the sweat off my face, I tried to get my bearings. The vat glowed with a light so alien I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn the mother ship was buried just under the tannery’s surface. Sterling’s net had begun to sag under the weight of dust particles and small rocks, which attached themselves to it like iron filings to a magnet. As soon as they touched, a bright blue flame leaped up and they hardened. Already I could see a new lid forming where the old one had been before.

  As if he wanted her to witness the process up close, Bergman had dragged Kyphas right to the tank’s edge. She was wailing now. Begging him not to throw her in. Astral, perching on a pillow-sized piece of rubble, seemed to be egging him on. The fire reflected eerily in her black eyes as she sang a tune by Bobby “Boris” Pickett, in such an authentic voice that I felt a smile stretch my lips. “They did the mash. They did the monster mash.”

  Somehow Astral’s song cleared the air just enough that I realized I could speak safely. “Bergman,” I said softly. “You can’t open the canal. Sterling’s net is there to keep Kyphas’s allies from attacking us. No telling what you’ll release if—”

  He yelled, “Yousef! Are we set?”

  Behind us, my stalker called back happily, “It is done, Mr. Miles! Come and see!” Bergman’s smile raised goose bumps on my arms. But nothing had happened to the net. It continued to cover the vat, sparkling like a spiderweb covered in dew. So what—

  Miles told me, “I know better than to touch the canal. It’s not necessary anyway. I didn’t even know about it when I made this plan.”

  My headache gained strength again, pounding against my temples as I said, “Oh?” Politely. Because he’d changed. When I wasn’t looking, he’d become fierce and unpredictable. I gave him my Southern belle do-tell nod.

  He explained, his tone real gentlemanly as he said, “I knew you’d show. You always do. And Raoul told me that where you are, a portal eventually appears. He doesn’t know why, but… see? There it is.”

  He nodded, glancing over my shoulder as he did, so I looked. He was right, a plane portal stood in the middle of the tannery, just in front of a tank twice as large as the canal. It contained the swamp of chemicals necessary to begin the whole leather-making process. Balancing on the edge of the vat, Yousef stood holding a small, leather-bound book in one hand.

  “I make a perfect place to put her!” Yousef said proudly, motioning to the door, the center of which wasn’t its usual velvety black. I’d underestimated my stalker again. When he’d told me his workplace was considered the doorway to the land of the dead, I didn’t realize that he could open those doors.

  “So what’s next?” I asked, careful to keep my eyes on Bergman despite the fact that they wanted to dart to Sterling, who’d just dropped off the roof of the building opposite mine. His move reminded me of Mary Poppins. Only instead of holding an umbrella he had a rope that lowered him so gently you’d swear his best friend was standing on the anchored side. All he had to do was stick a sandaled foot through the loop he’d tied to the end and hang on. I glanced at my broken fingernails, my bruised toes, and thought, Wielders piss me off.

  Which was probably why Bergman knew the warlock had joined us. He could read my expressions better than I could Vayl’s. Without turning his head he said, “Hey, Sterling, what’s up?”

  “Not much. How they hanging, dude?”

  “One’s a little lower than the other but my doctor says I can still have kids. How about you?”

  Sterling was struggling too hard against a sudden urge to laugh to be able to form a coherent reply.

  “How about you, Vayl?” Bergman asked, so überaware that he’d detected the vampire’s presence even before I had, and I was wearing his ring! I turned to find my sverhamin standing just behind me holding Cole in his arms.

  “We battled well, Miles. But I am afraid Cole is not himself.”

  I brushed a hand through our translator’s hair. Even it had lost its usual wild spring. “Cole,” I whispered. “Your eyes…”

  “The world’s gone red, Jaz,” he said, sounding like a little kid who’s gotten lost and knows his mom and dad should’ve found him by now. “It’s like I’m looking at everything through a curtain of blood.” His voice sounded like it had crawled over sharpened stones to get to me. “And I like it.”

  I glared at Kyphas. “You’re doing this to him! Changing him into something he was never supposed to be!”

  “He was always meant to be mine!” she said, with more spirit than she had a right to, considering her blood had left a pool the size of a dinner plate on the ground beneath her.

  “Not in this state!” I said. “Look at him! This isn’t the Cole you fell for! This is a crimson-eyed half-man who still won’t love you once you’ve completely demonized him!”

  She stared at him, her expression so needy I felt embarrassed to witness it. Then her eyes rolled up to Bergman. “Let me go and I’ll release your friend,” she said.

  “You and your deals,” Miles said sarcastically. “Where have they gotten us so far? You’re still holding the Rocenz. Jasmine’s still possessed. We’re still not convinced Cassandra’s a free bird. And now Cole’s soul is halfway to perdition. You want to know what I think?”

  She shook her head, slowly at first, and then when she caught the look in Bergman’s eyes, a whole lot faster. He told her anyway.

  “I think you need to die.”

  “I can’t let go of the Rocenz!” she cried. “The blood between my fingers and the handle burns like acid, but it won’t let go of me until it finishes the job it started! That’s how it was crafted! And Cassandra is free! I told you the contract was complete!”

  He leaned down. “You know what I know about demons?” She shook her head. “Demons lie.” He yanked her upright. Whether it was the move or his intentions, I didn’t know, but they both began to bleed heavily as he dragged her toward the door.

  I turned to my sverhamin. “Vayl,” I whispered.

  He laid Cole down, gently propping his back against the corner I’d been using. “Our Trust, the stone, and the Rocenz,” he reminded me. “We care for nothing else.”

  I stared down at Cole, blinking hard to stop the stinging in my eyes. “What if—”

  Vayl pulled me away from the building, nodding for Sterling to join us as he said, “Cole may not be in the Trust. But he is a friend of us all. We protect him as if he was one of our own.”

  The three of us met at the head of the canal and walked, shoulder to shoulder, after Bergman and Kyphas as they stumbled toward Yousef and the door.

  I said, “We’ve gotta get that stone out of her chest, Miles. Cole can’t be okay again while—”

  “I know what I’m doing!” he yelled, his eyes blazing as they caught mine.

  “What about the Rocenz?” Vayl asked gently. “Jasmine cannot go on much longer without—”

  “This demon’s gotta die! Look at what she does to people she loves!” he shouted, pointing at Cole, who’d begun to cough something thick and bloody onto the ground between his trembling hands. “What do you think she’s going to do to us the second she gets a chance? I’ve been reading up on spells. It’s basic negation. She dies, her shit dies with her!”

  “It’s not always that simple though,” Sterling said, his suggestion so gentle he might’ve been singing Miles a lullaby.

  But our genius hadn’t climbed to the top of his field without a hearty helping of thick-skulled stubbornness. He took a beat to stare into the hell Yousef had opened. I didn’t know what his eyes revealed, but mine showed an island so tiny you couldn’t have stretched out to sleep at night. The water around it was clear enough to reveal the fins and jagged teeth of the sea creatures tha
t circled it as if they’d been called for a feast. Some of them couldn’t wait, and those attacked each other, tearing huge hunks of meat from the backs and sides of weaker prey until the water ran red.

  Bergman shoved Kyphas toward the door. “You’d better hope you fall on land, bitch. But it won’t matter for long. Some of those sharks can walk.”

  I said, “Bergman! No!”

  Vayl sprang forward like a panther leaping into the hunt.

  Sterling swung his wand into play as the flames around the portal flared.

  Every part of my mind screamed, Bergman, no! Bergman, stop! You don’t know what you’re doing! as I lunged after Vayl.

  Sterling’s wand shot out a claw of electric-blue bolts that flew between us. Too late. Bergman had pushed Kyphas into the portal’s center. Then he stumbled and fell to his knees, pulling Kyphas down with him. He didn’t stop there though. He was still moving. Sliding toward the gateway as if he was being… pulled.

  “Bergman!” I shouted as Sterling’s claw hit, raking down Kyphas’s body, making her writhe and scream.

  Miles began to shake from the echo zapping him through their connection, which now he couldn’t seem to break even though he wanted to.

  “Let me go!” he yelled. He tried to jerk away, but his hands stayed tight to her wrist and the Rocenz despite the fact that she’d planted her feet in his stomach and was pulling back just as hard as he was.

  Astral leaped around their heads as they struggled, her urgency a reflection of the emotion she was recording. But nobody seemed to know what orders to give her.

  Kyphas screamed, “Cole! Don’t let them take me back!”

  Unrecognizable sounds from behind us. I couldn’t tell whether our sniper was puking or laughing, but the sound he made let me know he didn’t give a shit where she ended up.

  Vayl grabbed Bergman around the waist. Dug in his heels and tried to wrench him free.

  Bergman screamed, “My arms! Vayl, you’re breaking my arms! And my stitches! Ahhh!”

  Now all three of them were inching toward the door, as if an invisible rope held them and was pulling them slowly into the pit.