Jaz Parks 5 - One More Bite

by Jennifer Rardin

  “Thank you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I . . .” He took a deep breath, glanced at the snakes. “I just needed to talk sensibly for a moment. As if those creatures had not just chased me down the carpet like a mass of ravenous multiheaded dragon spawn.”

  I brought my hand down to his face. Took time I’d never had before to brush my fingers against the hard planes of his jaw and cheekbones, to wonder how the slant of his dark brows and the shape of his glittering green eyes had managed to sear themselves into my soul. And I knew, if I traveled through eternity or lived a million lives, I would always find him, always know and love him with the kind of fiery passion that scares the hell out of you because, God, it burns. And yet when you’ve walked out the other side you know you haven’t lived until this moment.

  “Vayl, I . . .” No, not here. Not bleeding on the floor. Say something else, not as important, but still meaningful. “I want to thank you for what you did before. Taking those hits for me.” I blinked, surprised to find tears welling. “It means a lot to me.” More even than I’d realized.

  “You are my avhar. I would die for you.”

  I grimaced. “I’d much rather you didn’t.”

  The smile lit his eyes first. “Then I will simply say, you are welcome.” He ran his hands lightly up and down my back. Shifted slightly beneath me. “Jasmine?”

  “Yeah?”

  “When you look at me that way, it is difficult for me to remember I am still in public.”

  I looked around. The survivors had huddled into small groups of five or six. Nobody had opened the door yet. Maybe they were afraid the snakes would revive. Or they were still pissed they’d been shut out. “Everybody’s pretty distracted,” I whispered.

  “Yet, I would not trust my—”

  I silenced him with a kiss, slow and delicious, one to savor the next time we were apart. “Do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t ever die.”

  He raised his hand, slid it around my neck, his thumb brushing up under my chin as he leaned in to nuzzle my bottom lip. “I shall live forever, if that is your wish.”

  “It’s a start.” I plastered myself against him, marveling at how well we fit together, wrapping my arms around him so tight I’d have worried about crushing some ribs if he hadn’t been Vampere.

  When he opened his lips, I gave him the kiss that had been building in me since the last time. Hot-breathed, lips and tongue, clinging bodies that couldn’t wait to move on, dammit!

  I moaned when Vayl lifted his head. “Don’t stop.”

  >“No, not okay. The woman’s dead, for chrissake. And you’re standing there spitting on her grave. She was a good mother to you—”

  “No. Not even close.” I strode toward the bed, each step fueling my rage. I sat on the edge beside him so the lamplight caught me at the edge of its glow. “You wouldn’t know, because you were gone. Always off defending the country when you should’ve been protecting me.” The last came out like I’d shoved it through a grater, shredded and somewhat battered.

  Before he could demand to know what I meant, I tore off my jacket, yanked my shirtsleeve up over my shoulder, and revealed the inside of my upper arm. The part that hardly ever shows. Unless you hold up your hand to answer a question in class. I’d learned never to do that.

  “What the hell are these?” Albert demanded, brushing his thumb against eight separate raised circles marring the smooth pale skin that comes naturally to us redheads. “Are they scars?”

  “Geez, Dad, lemme think. Was I born with these marks? I mean, I know you were gone a lot, but surely you would’ve noticed this kind of disfigurement on an infant.”

  He clamped his jaw shut and yanked me toward him. “Who did this to you? Tell me right now. And be honest, or else—”

  “Or else what?”

  “I might kill the wrong man.” Watching the color rush to fill his face once again, I thought, He didn’t know. All these years I thought he had to. How could he not? But it was like he’d leased his brain to the military and all we got was sloppy seconds. Which is okay for some things. But not so great when Dad’s oblivious to festering sores on your arm. And in your family.

  “It wasn’t a man,” I said. “It was your wife. With a cigarette. Anytime one of us caused her to lose it.”

  Albert’s eyes went back to my arm and he began to shake his head. Of course he wouldn’t believe me. She’d said he wouldn’t. I was ready for a big, fat denial. But all he said was “It sounds to me like you took the punishment for everybody.”

  I nodded. “Evie only made her that mad once, and though I was only nine at the time, I knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it. A couple of the others are Dave’s, but the rest are mine.” I watched him worry at those marks, as if he could somehow erase them if he brushed his fingers across them enough times. When he still didn’t respond I said, “I guess I could’ve done what Dave and Evie did. Learn to read her moods. Figure out when to keep my mouth shut.”

  Still not meeting my eyes he asked, “What did you do?”

  I shrugged. “By the time I was twelve I’d grown taller and tougher than her. One day she came after me with that goddamned cigarette and I beat the crap out of her.”

  I tried to pull my arm from his hand, to wrap it around my stomach as it lurched at that awful memory. The knowledge that I’d done what a daughter never should. Forced into it by a mother who’d broken her trust. The worst part—Evie crying. Screaming really. Begging me not to kill her mommy. It was the first time in my life that I’d understood what I was capable of.

  He put his arms around mÃs aimee, patient through my initial resistance. Crushing me to his chest when I finally allowed the embrace. I didn’t cry. Those days had passed. But something at the icy core of me flared. Suddenly painfully warm. Even more so when I leaned back to see the single tear running down the old man’s face. The only one I’d ever seen crack the hard rock of those green eyes. “Jazzy,” he began.

  I shook my head. “It’s over now.”

  “Is it?”

  The question caught me off guard. Do you ever get past something like that, when the scars slap you across the face every morning in the shower? I realized I couldn’t answer him truthfully. “About the vampire guy,” I said.

  Albert took a deep breath. Tightened his hands on my shoulders. Let them drop. “I wouldn’t recommend him. They’re only after one thing, you know.”

  “Dad!”

  “That’s not what I meant! Well, maybe a little. But I was really talking about the blood. Don’t let him fool you. Just because he’s had a few lifetimes to school himself in our ways doesn’t mean he’s like us. He’s a predator. A parasite. You strip away his act and he’s no better than an undead tick.” He nodded wisely. “No. You stick with that Vayl. He’ll take care of you.”

  Ha! If you only knew! “Don’t you think he’s a little old for me?” He’d been turned at thirty-eight. And while no gray hairs sprinkled the coal blackness of his hair, he’d never pass for a twenty-something.

  Albert shook his head. “I don’t see you getting comfortable with a young buck now. Seems to me you need somebody who’s survived the same kind of crap as you. Looking at Vayl, you can tell. He’s been through it.”

  I thought of the scars I’d seen once, crisscrossing his shoulders and back. Even in his relative ignorance, my dad could still make a valid point. I got up. “It’s definitely time to leave when you start making sense.” I whistled to Jack. When his ears perked I said, “Come on, boy. We’re outta here ’cause Dad’s freaking about the Amityville room again.”

  When I grinned at Albert he growled, “It’s not funny! That thing’s gonna kill me, you know! And when I’m dead—”

  “You’re never going to die because the gatekeepers of heaven and hell will never stop arguing about which one wants to keep you out the worst!”

  He snorted and slapped me on the leg. “You’re all right, you know that?”
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  “Yeah, I do.” I threw my weapons bag across my back and grabbed my trunk.

  He looked at me sideways. “Good. I’m glad she didn’t take that away from you.” I nodded and had turned to leave when his next words stopped me flat. “And I’m sorry.”

  I put my hand on the wall to steady myself. Not even daring to look over my shoulder, I whispered, “For what?”

  “I’m your father. It’s my job to protect you. And I failed.”

  I thought about what he said until Jack came to stand beside me, rubbing his cheek against my thigh like he thought he was a tomcat andÃas ="4 needed to mark me. Finally I said, “Apology accepted.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I didn’t sleep right away. I lay on my stomach under the covers, still fully dressed because I’d have to go back to work in another few hours. And because if I took one article of clothing off, they’d all go. Just lying in Vayl’s bed did that to me. I was beginning to think when we finally did pull off an all-nighter, we might need to arrange a somewhat remote location for the deed. I had a hunch it was going to get noisy.

  I dangled my left hand over the edge of the bed, leaving it tangled in the fur of Jack’s neck as he lay on the floor beside me. “I’m a sad case, Jack,” I whispered. “And the worst part is, I don’t even mind anymore.”

  As soon as I closed my eyes I began dreaming.

  I recognized the zooming delight in my heart even before I glanced to my side to smile at my hiking partner. Matt grinned back, his teeth practically glowing against the deep tan of his face. I stopped right there on the trail, threw my arms around him, and gave him a long, luscious kiss.

  “What was that for?” he asked as he raised his head.

  “Bringing me here. Look at this!” I demanded, my gesture encompassing the whole of the Highlands. We stood on a flat brown trail sided by acres of heather, dotted by small rocks and large boulders. In the background the steep granite slopes of Ben Nevis beckoned. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

  “Yah. That would be you, lass.” I spun, jerking my arm out of his grasp. Matt had been replaced. By Brude.

  “What are you doing here?” Did my voice have to go all squeaky-breathy like that? Um, yeah, dumbass. That’s what happens when you’re freaked.

  Hard not to be with those dark, fathomless eyes boring into you. That massive picture-puzzle chest reminding you a mystery remained unsolved and now you’d be lucky if you woke again to pursue its unanswered questions.

  “I came to fetch you,” he said in that rich, rolling accent. “The flavor of power sweetens like honey with a good woman beside you to share the spoils.” He emphasized his point by banging his staff into the ground.

  I shrugged. “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”

  “No. By me.”

  He tried to pull me into his arms, but I evaded his hands, backing slowly down the path like I’d just encountered a grizzly bear. “Who are you?”

  “I told you before, lass. I am King Brude. These are my lands and have been for nigh onto four thousand years. But now they will be more. I have been Satan’s Enforcer long enough. It is my time to rise. My armies are ready. The dungeon is complete. You saw how strongly it is made.”

  He waited long enough that I realized I was supposed to respond. “Oh, yeah. Lovely workmanship. The blocks were, uh, very thick. But it doesn’t seem quite practical. I mean you ghosts could just—”

  “I am no ghost!” he cried, as offended as if I’d questioned his manhood. “Do I not have dominion over them, and e’en all the unkind spirits who flock to my domain?”

  “First of all, I don’t know what e’en means. Also, I’m waking up now.”

  “Wait! You must stay with me!” His raised fist added a threat to the demand. But the voice I paused for was Raoul’s.

  “Jasmine?” I turned, relieved to find my Spirit Guide striding up the hill behind me. “I’ve been looking for you. Why have you been so elusive?”

  I pointed a finger at Brude, glad to see it wasn’t shaking. Much. “The Neanderthal wants to drag me off by the hair.” In a lower voice I asked, “People don’t do that here, do they? Because I gotta tell you, I have sensitive roots.”

  Raoul shook his head, smiling past the concern in his eyes. “I’ve never heard of it. But since you’re not yet trained to protect that bundle of curls in the Thin, would you mind stepping behind me for a minute?”

  The Thin? You mean . . . I really can’t just make this go away by sitting up in bed? In that case, if I had the time I’d build a fort between me and that maniac. I switched positions with Raoul and looked around for a big stick. Or maybe a rock. Surely anything I found here would work as a weapon. And my Guide deserved at least a show of backup, even if I suspected Brude could take us both with one arm strapped to his side.

  Raoul bowed, keeping his eyes raised in case the king fought dirty. “We have no quarrel with you. But urgent business requires us to move on,” he said.

  “I cannot allow that,” Brude replied. He pointed to me. “My claim is on her. She must stay and rule at my side.”

  “You are such a throwback,” I informed him. “Your claim. Do I look like a gold mine to you?”

  Raoul snapped a shut-up look over his shoulder. “Let me handle this, please.”

  I wanted to say something really mature like, “He started it.” But maybe this wasn’t the time.

  Raoul said, “She’s Eldhayr. Do you really want that kind of fight? I could bring the whole Eminent screaming down on your head, and when we were done with you not even a spark would remain to prove you had ever existed.”

  “You could,” said Brude, grinning craftily, “if they were at your shoulder. But they must be scattered to the seven winds at the moment. No, I will take her now, while the time is ripe.” He looked at me as he savored that last word, his eyes full of the plans he’d made for us.

  “You can’t make me stay,” I told him. I put my hand on Raoul’s shoulder. “Can he?”

  “He’s a Domytr. That gives him the ability to try.”

  I paged through my mental dictionary. “I’ve never heard of that.”

  “You wouldn’t have. They’re rare. Hand-picked by Lucifer. And exclusive to this side.”

  The Domytr and the Eldhayr began to circle one another. I shadowed Raoul, still searching for some form of naturally occurring weapon. I saw rocks, but they were all set into the earth so deep, no way would I be able to extricate one before the fight had ended. I clenched my fists, and when the movement didn’t even crack my knuckles, I wondered if the Thin had even left me enough strength to heft one.

  Brude charged, yelling a battle cry that liquefied all the food in my bowels. Shit! We should run!

  Ah, the voice of reason. Why is it we never listen to her when the battle is on? It would spare us such a lot of pain. Or in Raoul’s case, a blow to the nose that seemed to break it, and a punch that glanced off his eye, but only because his head was already rocking backward.

  Holy crap, that guy can swing a staff! Only it’s not just the wood talking. I think his tattoos are getting darker when he attacks. Almost like they’re being reinforced. And look at that. They’re coalescing! Forming some sort of second skin. Except I have a feeling it’s a lot more durable than most armor.

  Raoul pulled his sword. A rune-covered steel that shone like sun on the water, he wielded it with the ease of a master. A lunge. A slash across Brude’s upper chest that bled so freely it began to look like he’d slipped on a red T-shirt for the occasion. But as I watched, the tattooed armor folded over the cut and the bleeding stopped.

  “Your metal cannot harm me here,” Brude said triumphantly.

  Oh, that’s reassuring.

  Raoul snapped, “Play with someone else’s head, Brude. Mine is bent on your destruction.” He jumped forward again, smashing his blade against Brude’s staff. Something should have broken. Maybe it was Raoul’s pride. He backed away.

  “Are you done playing alread
y? Good enough.” Brude’s eyes jumped to mine. “I believe it would be better to finish this quickly, after all. It has been so long.” He nodded in decision and slowly lifted the staff, walking around Raoul as he also turned. Waiting for him to make a mistake. He leaped forward, moving so quickly I barely caught the shift in his shoulders that signaled his intentions.

  I bounced away from Raoul, allowing him the room he needed to adjust. He veered sideways, cracking his sword against Brude’s staff as it passed within a millimeter of his head.

  Raoul’s heel to the king’s ribs should’ve scored the best shot he’d made so far. Brude grunted, but only with effort. The armor had slid forward to intercept Raoul’s blow. I’d fought supernaturally shielded opponents before, so I knew Raoul felt like he’d just connected with the radiator of a Mack truck.

  He reversed the sword in his hand, holding it so the blade emerged from the back of his fist like you might hold a dagger in a knife fight. Rushing toward Brude, he battered the king with multiple kicks to the torso and a blow to the temple with the hilt of the sword.

  Brude didn’t bother to block the blows. The armor did all that so well his head barely jerked, though Raoul had hit him hard enough to snap his neck. He responded with a combination of slashing attacks that forced Raoul to pull back or lose some choice parts.

  Oh goody. How about I just stand here like a helpless Victorian Miss whilst the menfolk battle for my honor? Or I could—I looked around. Nope. No heroic rescue wrote itself on my brain as I scanned the scene. Well, this sucks. I moved completely off the path, avoiding the sweating, heaving fighters on my way to a light-gray boulder. I leaned against it, brushing my hands against the rough crags of the stone. Down by my hips I discovered a stash of small rocks in a recess where either the wind or a bored hand had chipped them off and left them for later. I picked one up. Tossed it up and down in my hand.

  And lofted it at Brude.

  It hit him. Of course it didn’t hurt. His inked-on shell came to his rescue. But I threw another anyway. It became the only way I could find to amuse myself between rounds.