“I take it I’m off the hook,” I said as I shut the door.
“Yup.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
We hung up. Since my toes still felt like icicles, I went into the bathroom, shucked my socks, plugged the tub, and ran in enough hot water to soak my feet. I could see the front door from where I sat, so I was aware of the chiseled marble look on Vayl’s face when he entered the condo a few minutes later. That all changed when he saw the blood on the walls.
“Dear Christ!” He staggered sideways, caught his balance on the stove, and pulled his phone from his pocket with shaking fingers. “Jasmine, be all right. Please be all right,” he whispered as he dialed, his face suddenly very human and extremely worried. He jumped about three inches off the floor when my phone rang. I answered it.
“Make it quick,” I said. “There’s somebody else in the condo with me and he looks alarmed.”
He didn’t say a word, just dropped his phone, came over, and picked me up off the edge of the tub. It’s a little disconcerting being dangled effortlessly. Plus, I generally equate bear hugs with lumberjacks and friendly purple dinosaurs, not with suave, sexy vampires who savor a daily dose of necking.
“I thought you were dead,” he said.
Ah, that explained the momentous show of affection. “So you knew Liliana was coming after me?”
“I . . . had a feeling.” I let his evasion stand for now. But in my mind I drew the line. One more and I would raise hell. Or, smarter but less satisfying, ask him to come clean. He let me slip through his arms until my feet touched the carpet. Then he released me completely. I stepped back. Ignored the vast sense of loneliness that suddenly swamped me. Fought the urge to touch him, reassure myself I hadn’t just hallucinated that embrace.
“I am sorry I left you. I suspected she would come after you, only not so soon. She has always coveted Cirilai, first because she was my wife and thought she deserved it. Then because our sons were dead and she thought I did not.”
“So . . . you’ve never . . . taken it off before?”
“No. Not for Liliana. Not for anyone. Until now.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God. I mentally slapped myself. Don’t panic, Jaz. Every time you panic all hell breaks loose, so do—not—panic.
“You’re right. She came for the ring,” I told him. “She demanded it from me.”
“What did you do?”
“I shot her. Then I pushed her off the roof.”
He smiled. Not the twitchy twitch, but a genuine, full-face smile. “You must have really wanted that ring.”
I retreated behind the chair I’d napped in and buried my hands into the back because, frankly, I suspected there might be hyperventilating in my not-too-distant future, and I needed a strong base to lean on. I looked into his remarkable eyes, just now a warm, honey-gold with flecks of amber, and nodded. “To be honest, I did want it. I do. I’m . . . I can’t explain how honored I am to be wearing it. But, also, to be honest, the whole deal terrifies me.”
“And that is because . . .”
I took a long look at the stitching on his collar, the urge to cower my way out of this conversation damn near primal. He and I had been tiptoeing around the subject so long I suspected if I made us face it squarely, one of us would be required to cut and run. A perfectly acceptable reaction if you had a place to retreat to. Neither of us did. “I’ve only been your assistant, your avhar, for a while,” I finally said, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not exactly sure what I’ve agreed to, and yet I can’t imagine any other kind of life. When you gave me this ring . . . when I gave you my blood . . . it’s . . . -We’ve gone beyond anything I’ve ever experienced with another person. We’re trusting the safety of our souls to each other.” Just saying those words made me a little dizzy.
He raised my chin with a gentle finger, and I winced as our eyes met. The look we shared pained me in its naked honesty.
“You are my avhar. I am your sverhamin. The intensity of that relationship has taken us beyond the bonds between coworkers or teammates.” He waited for me to speak, his eyes hot with emotion.
And, God help me, I wanted to say what he wanted me to say. But I couldn’t. I was still too . . . wounded. It seemed like a strange way to describe me. I’d never been in better physical condition. But it was the most appropriate word I’d found yet.
“After I lost Matt and my crew, Evie kept pushing me to put my feelings into words. She thought, somehow, that would make it all better. But I couldn’t tell her I felt like I should be bleeding from every pore. I couldn’t say I felt like I’d been flayed alive, that when I looked in the mirror every morning I couldn’t believe my hair hadn’t turned white overnight. It just wasn’t close enough to the truth. So I didn’t say anything at all.”
“I understand.”
I believed him.
“There’s only so much a person can go through, Vayl.”
He regarded me seriously. “There is only so much a person can go through alone. But I will not ask you to do anything you cannot bear.”
“So . . . I can keep the ring?”
“It is yours,” he said. “No matter what happens, that will never change.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I drove Vayl back to the Pink Palace, leaving the room-cleaning chores to the experts. The Agency employs a whole fleet of them for obvious reasons. We made it inside with barely twenty minutes to spare before dawn.
“You look exhausted,” Vayl said as I eased my jacket off my shoulders and hung it over a chair. I had something intelligent to say about that, but then I took my boots off and sank onto the couch, and I couldn’t think past my body’s loud and repeated cheers.
“I know I should let you sleep,” Vayl continued, “but I am so relieved Liliana did not kill you, I cannot take my eyes off of you.”
“You’re relieved! When she caught me trying to make my getaway, I thought I was toast.”
“And that young man I took to the hospital. His blood smelled so wrong, I was afraid just being close to him had damaged you permanently.”
“Yeah, what the hell do you think is up with him?”
“I have no—”
My phone began to ring. This close to dawn it couldn’t be good news and I hated to answer it. But Vayl retrieved it from my jacket and tossed it to me.
“Yeah?” I barked.
“It’s Bergman. I’m in Florida, but I’ve gotta sleep. Do you need me tonight or can I meet you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s good.”
“Where do I look for you?”
“Hang on.” I covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Bergman,” I told Vayl. “Do you know of a good place he and I can meet tomorrow?”
He thought a moment; then his eyes lit. “Actually, I do.” He gave me the address and I passed it on to Bergman, along with an agreeable time. When we hung up I said, “So where are we meeting?”
Vayl looked vaguely embarrassed, like I’d just caught him and his pals plotting to stroll on over to the Silver Saddle, where girls dance mostly naked and all the drinks taste like sour lemonade.
“Vayl?”
“The place is called Cassandra’s Pure and Natural, after the woman who owns it. It is a small health food store.”
“Nice front,” I drawled, getting more and more annoyed at Vayl’s hesitation. Hadn’t we just had a major moment? What the hell was he hiding? “And if you pay Cassandra a little extra?” I asked.
“She will take you upstairs and give you a reading.”
“A . . . what?”
“She is psychic. She will touch your hand or read your tea leaves or deal your tarot. Whatever you like.”
I slumped onto a couch and started to mutter. “Unbelievable. After what just happened between us . . . no, I don’t have any right. None at all. I have to—”
“What in God’s name are you babbling about?”
I jumped to my feet. “I’m so sick of your mysteries and evasions I could puke!”
“I don’t think so! You work with me for six months before offering a single viable explanation as to why you requested me in the first place. You put Cirilai on my finger and then announce to your ex that I’m your avhar. You tell me you’ve met somebody who might be a willing donor and then this psychic—”
“Actually she is the one I was thinking of.”
“Either you trust me or you don’t, Vayl. I’m fed up with being the last one in the know!”
Vayl sat across from me. “All right,” he murmured. “If you will know it all, then I will tell you.” He looked at me balefully. “Though I think you ask too much, you are my avhar.”
“There is a theory,” he began, “one I hold dear, that says nothing can truly be destroyed. Everything that was ever present will always endure in some form. That is as true of souls as it is of water and wood.” He cleared his throat. If he’d been wearing a tie he’d have loosened it. “I believe my sons exist somewhere today as they did in 1751. I believe they live, physically, somewhere in this world, and so, wherever I go, I find a Seer, in the hope that I will be directed closer to them. In the hope that I will see them again.”
“You’re saying . . . you think they’ve been reincarnated?”
He nodded. “I have been told we will be reunited in America. It is why I came here.”
“What . . . what do you . . .” I paused. How to ask this without causing more pain? “So you want to meet them? Make friends? Be . . . a father to them?”
“I am their father!” he snapped. “That is the one, incontrovertible truth of my existence.”
I shut my mouth. Then I opened it again, but only to say, “Cassandra’s is fine.”
He stood up. “Ask her about the signs they found on Amanda Assan’s brother’s body. She studies ancient languages the way you shuffle cards.” As in, obsessively. “It may take her some time, but she will not stop until she finds a translation.”
“Okay.”
“Dawn is coming.”
“Yes.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. At the moment there couldn’t have been a bigger gap yawning between us if we’d been standing on opposite sides of the Pacific. I was sorry for it. And grateful. “Well,” he said, “good night.”
“Good night.”
He moved so silently I wouldn’t have known he entered his bedroom and closed the door unless I’d been watching. If vampires dreamed, and if it would be a comfort to him, I hoped he would dream of his sons.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I switched my phone to the other ear and shook out the hand that had been holding it. Muscle cramps from clutching the thing tight, so I wouldn’t be tempted to punch a wall. “Go on,” I said.
“I’m having a hard time getting the wife to cooperate,” Cole continued. He’d managed to keep my business card safe from the ravages of the washing machine. That was partly why I felt so violent. He’d kept his word and approached Amanda Assan with our plan and then called me with the results. Needless to say she was less than enthusiastic.
“No kidding?” I checked my watch. I’d only been up an hour and already my day utterly sucked. And not just because of the nightmares that had stalked my sleep, or because Cole had ignored my advice. True to form, Evie had followed through and left the number of Albert’s nursing agency on my voice mail. I’d called them and they’d told me I’d have to put him on a waiting list. They had recommended another group in the the meantime, and I’d given them a call. But it bothered me to hire blind like that, not knowing a place’s reputation. No choice, though. I sure wasn’t going to make Evie do any back-checking in her condition and frame of mind. When I had a spare minute I’d do it myself. Meantime, Albert would be breaking in a new nurse named Shelby Turnett any minute now. I’m not big into prayer, but I did send up a wish that she had thicker skin than mine. She’d need it.
Now this. Trying to gain cooperation without threat leverage always annoys the hell out of me. People are just too willing to say no.
“Did she say why?” I asked.
“She was putting her jewels in the safe last night when he caught her checking out the contents of a small duffel bag she remembered he’d brought back with him from India. When she asked him about it, he told her to mind her own damn business. Then he ordered her to stay in the house for the next week. She had to sneak in her phone call to me. Apparently she’s not allowed to talk to anybody either.” A spurt of rage made me grit my teeth. I calmed myself with the reminder that soon Amanda Assan would be a free woman.
Cole went on. “She also said one of their houseguests had to go to the emergency room last night and for some reason Assan was more enraged than worried. Long story short, he’s on a rampage and everybody in the house is kissing his ass until further notice.”
“There’s got to be a way to get a peek inside that duffel bag. I wouldn’t mind checking out the sick houseguest either. Did she say where they’d taken him? Or was it a her?” He took so long to answer I thought we’d been cut off. “Hello?”
“I just had a thought and I’m feeling like an idiot for not thinking it before.”
“What’s that?”
“I have pictures of everyone Assan’s talked to in the past two weeks.” Cole sped up as he began to get excited. “Amanda hired me as the new pool boy so she and I could talk without making Assan suspicious. I might have a picture of that houseguest. And if Assan’s meeting with terrorists, I might have the pictures to show which ones!”
Oh baby!
“I’m supposed to clean the pool today,” Cole went on. “Why don’t you come with? You could meet me at my office and take a look at the pictures first. Then we could go to Assan’s together. We’ll both do the pool work; then I’ll go to the kitchen, now that I know where it is”—he paused and I could tell he was smiling—“and distract the cook while you snoop around. What do you say?”
“This could be incredibly dangerous for you, Cole.” I don’t even think he heard me. He rushed on, like a parent-challenged teen planning his first kegger. “You know what else? I saw somebody the night we met. At the party?”
“Yeah?”
“As I was leaving, a door opened and a man looked out. I got the feeling we were having a mutual oh-crap-you’re-not-supposed-to-see-me reaction.”
“Could you identify him again?”
“No problem. Being purely hetero, I’m a little embarrassed to say this, but he was easily the best-looking guy I’ve ever seen.”
Click. Blocks of information shifted and realigned in my brain as I realized Derek Stinkin’ Steele must be the same stud Cole had glimpsed during the Great Bathroom Escape. And his amazing looks suddenly made sense in light of Assan’s legitimate profession. It was suddenly imperative to know the man’s true identity.
“Forget the pool work for now,” I said, “and tell me you’re a big fan of the Pink Panther movies.”
“I own the whole set.”
“Then I assume you also own a few disguises?”
“A dozen at least. I always do Amanda’s pool work in disguise. That way they won’t recognize me if I need to, say, crash a dinner party sometime.” I could tell he was grinning. Despite knowing better, so was I.
“Excellent.” I told him to meet me down the street from the hospital Vayl had taken Derek to. “How soon can you get there?”
“An hour.”
“Good. See you then.”
We hung up, and after a quick phone book search I found Samaritan Care Center in the Yellow Pages. Thirty seconds later I knew Derek was still there, reclaiming some lost fluids in room 429.
I kicked it into gear. I pulled the costumes I’d brought from my trunk. One would transform me into a working-class brunette, the other a truck-stop blonde. I chose brunette.
The hair was st
raight and shoulder-length. I stuck a red beret on top at a jaunty angle and a new girl began to emerge from the mirror. I called her Dee Ann. She liked to pronounce her name Dee-on and, though she worked as a bank teller, she pretended she could paint better than van Gogh. A man’s shirt covered in multicolored parrots, blue jeans, army boots, a long green trench coat, and reflective sunglasses completed the ensemble.
I dressed in my room. My weapons case coughed up Grief and a small black box containing Bergman’s latest prototype. It had started life as a Band-Aid. But Bergman had replaced the absorbent padding with a tiny bug. That went on the middle finger of my right hand. I stuck the receiver, a former hearing aid, into my left ear. Theoretically I should be able to attach the bug to Derek’s skin, and it would transmit every conversation he took part in for the next two hours. Having had some experience with Bergman’s new inventions, I wasn’t expecting it to last more than twenty minutes. Hopefully that would be all the time I’d need.
On the way to the hospital I dialed Albert. I often called him in transit. That way I always had a good excuse to hang up. He answered on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Albert, it’s Jaz.”
He chuckled and said, “Two calls in two days. Jazzy, are you turning into a nag?”
I had to slow down so I wouldn’t swerve into a fire hydrant. Albert hadn’t been nice to me—or anyone else—in years. Was he high?
“Just curious what the doc said,” I replied, careful to keep my voice neutral.
“Said I could keep my foot—for now. I gotta tell you, I’ve never been so relieved about anything!” Ah, so that explained it.
“That’s great!”
“So, uh, about the nurse.”
“Yeah?”
“I cleaned the house. They’re pretty anal about week-old sandwiches on the end tables.”
“I imagine so,” I said.
It is a strange and unfair phenomenon that children of crappy parents still love those parents. Despite my best efforts, I’d never been able to erase that feeling. So maybe it’s understandable that I suddenly felt the urge to park the car and tap dance the rest of the way to the hospital, throwing in some classic Gene Kelly moves as I went. Luckily I managed to resist temptation.
Once Bitten, Twice Shy Page 15
