Bitten to Death

by Jennifer Rardin

  “Aine needs to go into the mask,” I said.

  “What?” Dave’s voice, its tone telling me I’d just leaped into Ludicrous Land.

  Every vampire in the Trust began to protest. Loudly.

  I began to speak. But the words weren’t ones I recognized. Not English, certainly. Just ones Octavia begged me to repeat. The vampires recognized it at once.

  “What’s she doing?” Dave demanded. I felt him grab me around the waist. It jarred my collarbone, sending a brain-blowing shaft of pain through my chest and arms.

  “Trayton, don’t let him pull me off the mask!” I gasped.

  I heard the entire pack growl, lifting every hair on my body, and he let go. I kept talking, the words coming awkwardly off my tongue. Would anyone understand? Octavia, speak up! Slow down! I can’t—what was that word?

  Trayton’s hand, gentle under my good elbow now, bore me up. His immense trust calmed me, focused me. Octavia’s voice came clearer. I repeated her speech exactly.

  “What’s she saying?” Cole demanded.

  Niall’s voice, distant and oddly lilting. “Because Hamon was murdered. Because Vayl is unwilling and Disa is undeserving, Octavia can reverse the power of the mask. If Aine wears it now, instead of it consuming her, it will pour all the partners’ knowledge into her. She will be able to lead alone for the first time since the Trust was formed.”

  Leaving Vayl off the hook!

  I dropped my hand and, still leaning on Trayton, turned to the vampire holding Admes’s arm. “Aine?” I asked. “Are you willing to risk it?”

  After a tense, quiet moment when I swore I could hear my own breath moving in and out of my lungs, Aine stepped forward and held out her hands. Yes!

  By now every vestige of Disa had disappeared into the mask. Cam and Cole picked it up one more time. They walked it to where Aine stood with her arms outstretched as if to give them each a big hug. When her hands contacted wood, she clutched at it, helping them lift the mask and then lower it slowly over her head.

  For a minute nothing happened. And then Aine began clawing at the outside of the mask, her fingernails leaving tiny furrows in the wood as they moved from the rounded cheeks to the closed heart-door and off. Still she stood, apparently in one piece. Except for the scratching, which continued pretty much uninterrupted for the next five minutes. Until, suddenly, she screamed.

  Admes lunged forward, reaching out for the mask. Cam shoved his crossbow into the warrior’s chest. “I wouldn’t,” he said mildly.

  “She’s dying in there!”

  “She’s screaming,” I told him. “But she has no means of making music on her. I’d say that’s a pretty significant development, wouldn’t you?”

  “Admes,” said a smooth, silky baritone that I’d begun to think I might never hear again. “Tell me you are not threatening my son.” Admes raised his hands and backed away as Vayl lifted himself off the floor, using the sword sheath we’d laid across his chest to help him balance as he leaned forward.

  I went to my knees beside him, Trayton making sure the move didn’t jar my shoulder. “Vayl.” I reached out, hesitated, touched the tips of my fingers to his cheek. So cold. He’d need blood soon. And this time I’d make sure it came from me.

  I slipped my hand behind his neck. “I thought . . .” I stopped. Gawd. This is about to be one of those moments. I backed away. And then, Aw, screw it. “Don’t ever do that to me again, you hear me?” I swung my leg over both of his, wrapped my good arm around his neck, and gave his luscious lips the attention they’d been begging for from the moment I’d laid eyes on them.

  When I finally pulled back Vayl said, “We really must do this more often.” He looked over my head. “But perhaps without the audience?”

  “Agreed. And, uh, about the son thing?” I flipped his collar up and down until he captured my hand in his. “Sorry. Maybe I’ve developed a new nervous habit. Anyway”—I squeezed his fingers, hoping it would comfort him a little—“we’re pretty sure they’re not. According to Cassandra, Erilynn couldn’t have seen either one of them. And they both seem to have been manipulated to that place by Disa. I doubt she has any contacts in the Agency or the military, so she was probably just pushing her Trust’s weight around, which she seemed to be better at than any of us gave her credit for. We underestimated her, Vayl.”

  He went absolutely still, his face draining of expression. I suddenly felt like I was cuddling with one of those statues you occasionally see perched on park benches. After a moment he moved, but the only sign of disappointment was the slight drop of his chin, the downturn of his lips. “I must stand,” he said.

  “Of course.” Trayton’s hand was the one that reached out to lift me off his lap, that continued to hold mine when Vayl rose without looking at or touching me, as much in his own world as the lover in that god-awful poem Eryx liked so much. He stood in his tattered clothes, soaked as a bad surfer, his deep purple eyes taking turns studying Cole and Cam.

  Trayton leaned in. “Look at me.”

  I turned my head, couldn’t help but smile a bit as I found myself searching for his gleaming eyes between strands of fine black hair. “What is it?” I asked.

  “He’s not going to be an easy one to love,” Trayton said, with a sideways nod at my boss.

  “How can you tell?”

  “Because I have a complicated partner myself.” He winked at Phoebe, who seemed poised to tear my hair from its roots the moment Krios gave her permission to ditch her post.

  Would you chill? I mouthed to her. She looked pointedly at my hand, still entwined with Trayton’s. I pulled it free on the pretext of settling Cirilai more firmly on my finger.

  Vayl moved closer to me. “What is happening?” he asked, nodding to Aine, who still struggled inside the mask.

  I explained as Jack shoved his nose into my thigh, looking for his share of affection. Since he was sitting on my left between Vayl and me, my sverhamin helped us both out, crouching down to give the dog a thorough petting.

  “I’m sorry,” I said as I finished the story. “I knew it wasn’t what you wanted. But I couldn’t think of any other way to save your life.”

  When Vayl looked up I felt his power reach out to me as never before. And though he didn’t move to touch me, the soft breeze of it caressed me like a cool winter wind. I nearly closed my eyes, the sensation overtook me so completely. But I couldn’t relax. Because our work wasn’t finished yet.

  We were reminded of this when Aine finally stopped moaning, fighting, scrabbling at the mask and stood perfectly still. Blood sprang from the corners of the mask’s eyes, ran down its face, and caught in the furrows that Vayl had thought the carver meant as whiskers. It spread outward to the edges of the mask and farther, taking new routes no artist had drawn for it, until lines of red covered it from top to bottom. The mask shivered. Cracked. And fell into pieces at Aine’s feet.

  Collective gasp as every single creature in the room, human and other, discovered that the mask had given Aine a new face. She might have been Disa’s cousin. The eyes were Octavia’s. Maybe the heart and spine belonged, at least partially, to Hamon’s former mate as well. But the rest of the face had definitely been Disa’s.

  Aine stepped forward. The voice I didn’t recognize. Maybe it was hers, given wings now that she had a mouth and a nose to do the work her keyboard had taken over after her injury. “Words of thanks are so inadequate. We are forever in your debt.” She wasn’t being queenly. When she said we, she motioned to everyone in the Trust. I wasn’t sure Genti and his bunch would agree with her, but I was willing to rise above if they could keep their mouths shut.

  “Honestly, Aine, this is the best possible scenario for us. Eryx only gave me one other option to Disa’s death, and though we were following it, I knew it was going to make Vayl utterly miserable.”

  “When did you see Hamon?” asked Dave.

  “I was having visions of him,” I said. “Every time I came across a big puddle of blood, there he’d be.�
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  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “It didn’t really seem like something a sane person would be experiencing. So . . .”

  Aine said, “He came to me inside the mask as well.”

  “And now?” I asked. “Is he . . . gone?”

  She nodded. “He and Octavia both. And the mask”—she looked back at it, now lying in pieces on the floor—“it is shorn of its powers. We will have to find a new way of governing in this Trust.”

  Aine was looking at Vayl now, and I could see the invitation in her eyes. He must have too, because he began shaking his head before she could get the words out. “My place is in America with my avhar. But first”—he looked at Cole and Cam—“yes. Perhaps a trip to my homeland. I believe it is finally time to tie up some very old loose ends. And then I will be able to search for my sons with a new heart.” His eyes came to mine. “One that has made room for all kinds of love.”

  Vayl said more. And Cole made some comment, an angry one I thought, since his hair waggled and spit flew, but my mind began roaring as soon as I heard the word “love” spoken in that possessive tone of voice Vayl only gets when he’s talking about what matters to him most. Usually he reserved it for conversations involving his boys. Now he’d added me to the mix.

  It’s okay. Don’t panic. This is a good thing. Like winning the lottery. With fangs.

  Inside my head Granny May was cackling like a hen as she waved her hands, dispersing all the other in-dwellers to their appointed places now that the worst of the danger was over. As I glared at her, waiting for her to whip out the hanky and dry the at-my-expense tears, she shook her head at me and snorted, You sure can pick ’em, Jazzy. Hey, for an encore, I’d be highly entertained if I had a hobbit for a great-grandchild.

  You pipe down, Gran. I can easily dream up an old-folks’ home for you. One that doesn’t serve macaroni and cheese or apple pie.

  My mind filled with silence. It wouldn’t last. Already I could feel the niggling fears that Samos had made too good of a deal with his devil. Cole still needed his answer. My dad’s attacker wouldn’t lay low forever. And I might do something phenomenally stupid to lose my chance with Vayl.

  I met his amber eyes, my heart skipping a beat as they crinkled at the corners.

  Or not.

  Acknowledgments

  This has been the most difficult book to write so far, and it wouldn’t have ended nearly so well without the support of my husband, Kirk, who is a constant source of quiet strength. I’d also like to thank my editors, Devi Pillai and Bella Pagan. Funny how one question can open up a whole new perspective on a character’s world. Deep appreciation, as always, must go to my agent, Laurie McLean, the great folks at Orbit, and my precious readers Katie and Hope. To the citizens of Patras, please accept my apologies for feeling free to rearrange your architecture. Rest assured I put it right back where I found it after the novel was finished. And to you, my awesome readers, so cool to have you here! Wait till you see what I’ve got in store for you next!

  extras

  Meet the Author

  JENNIFER RARDIN began writing at the age of twelve, mostly poems to amuse her classmates and short stories featuring her best friends as the heroines. She lives in an old farmhouse in Illinois with her husband and two children. Find out more about Jennifer Rardin at www.JenniferRardin.com.

  introducing

  If you enjoyed BITTEN TO DEATH,

  look out for

  ONE MORE BITE

  Book 5 of the Jaz Parks series

  by Jennifer Rardin

  May 18, 6:00 p.m.

  “Jasmine, do not pull that gun.”

  Vayl spoke in a voice so low even I could barely hear him, which meant the people in the worn gray seats next to the bathroom door where I stood still had no idea what I meant to do.

  “I’m gonna kill him,” I growled. My fingers tightened on the grip of Grief, the Walther PPK I kept stashed in the shoulder holster under my black leather jacket. I couldn’t see my intended victim at the moment. Vayl had set his hands on the edges of the doorframe, spreading his calf-length duster like a curtain, blocking my view. But I could hear the son of a bitch, sitting near the front, chatting up the flight attendant like she was the daughter of one of his war buddies.

  “You do understand what a bad idea this is, do you not?” Vayl insisted. “Even discussing pulling a gun on an airplane could bring the passengers down on you like a mob of after-Christmas-sale shoppers.” He fixed me with warm hazel eyes. “I would hate to see you beaten to death with that woman’s boot.”

  He jerked his head sideways, directing my attention toward an exhausted traveler whose fat rolls drooped over her armrests like just-kneaded bread dough. I glanced her way, and as people will do when they feel eyes upon them, she looked back at me. For a split second her pink cheeks and heavy-framed glasses swam out of focus. A lean, dark-eyed face sneered at me from beneath her shoulder-length perm. It said, “Are you certain you know my name?” I squeezed my eyes shut.

  You’re dead, Edward Samos. I saw your smoke fade into the night. I ground the bits of ash and bone you left behind into the dirt of the Grecian countryside. So stop fucking haunting me!

  I turned my head so that when I opened my eyes they fell on Vayl’s short black curls, which, I now knew, felt like silk under the fingertips. And his face, carved with the bold hand of an artist whose work I’d never tire of.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Yeah, sure. For some bizarre reason I’m seeing the last bad guy I assassinated on innocent people’s faces. I can’t stop thinking about my boss in a totally unprofessional and yet vividly exciting manner. And, at age twenty-five, I am still unable to escape the man who made my childhood pretty much a misery from start to finish. I’m just dandy, thanks for asking!

  I picked the part that bothered me least and let loose. “You’re the one who allowed my father to come along on this assignment. I told you it wouldn’t work. I warned you that blood could be shed. But did you listen?”

  “I rather thought you would wait until we had landed in Inverness.”

  “Who brings baby pictures on an international flight?” I hissed. “If I’d wanted my bare ass paraded in front of all the first-class ticket holders I’d have mooned everyone before we took off!”

  Vayl knew better than to tell me the pictures were adorable. Then I’d have had to kill him too. “Look into my eyes,” he said.

  “What, so you can hypnotize me? No thanks.”

  He shook his head. “We both know my powers have a minimal effect on you. Come now, my pretera. Humor me.”

  “What’s a pretera?” I muttered.

  “It is a Romani word, meaning wildcat.”

  “Oh. In that case . . .” I locked stares with the guy who’d started out as my boss and ended up . . . well, that remained to be seen. But the possibilities had begun to make my skin steam. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Vayl’s shrug reminded me strongly of his European roots. “How do you say? Money talks.”

  So true. In this case, the bucks had come from Albert himself. “What are we, the Russian Space Agency?” I demanded. “Selling seats on our assignments to the highest bidder?”

  Vayl said, “I realize the shock is only now wearing off. I would have warned you, but Pete did not inform me he would be joining us until just before this leg of our flight. Apparently your father felt you would strenuously object to his presence—”

  “Ya think?”

  “Thus the secrecy surrounding his joining us at Gatwick.”

  “Because he must’ve known I’d have thrown him off the plane in Cleveland,” I muttered, almost to myself. I realized I’d taken my hand out of my jacket and Vayl had used the opportunity to curl his fingers around mine. I shouldn’t see anything romantic in it. He was probably just trying to keep me from reaching again.

  I sighed. “Okay, I won’t kill him yet. But you get those pictures out of his claws, and keep him
away from me, and—”

  Vayl slid his hand up my arm, sending trickles of electric awareness shooting through me. Suddenly I couldn’t think of anyone but him. A deliberate move on his part, I was sure. “I never thought I would say this,” he murmured, leaning in so his lips nearly brushed my ear. “But I would suggest you spend the rest of this flight concentrating on Cole.” Who? Oh, damn, Jaz, would you kick your brain into gear? Your third for this piece o’ crap job, remember? The one Pete has decided to fund using your dad’s IRA? I began plotting a revenge so intricate and satisfying I barely heard Vayl say, “I will deal with your father.”

  “Okay. Thanks. Only, do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Be discreet, will you? He doesn’t know about . . . us . . . yet. And I think I should probably be the one to tell him I’m involved with a vampire.”