Another One Bites The Dust

“What can you tell me?” he asked. I knew it. Quick to pick up on my unspoken message but no doubt patient enough to lie still in the hot sun for hours until he got the order to pull the trigger. If these guys resembled Cleveland SWAT at all, they worked the paranormal cases. If not, oh well. I still felt I could trust them.

“Are you familiar with reavers?” I asked. He shook his head. Unsurprised, I said, “They’re killable, but just barely. I got one last night near the festival. He’d already murdered a man, but I nailed him before he could rip the guy’s soul off the good and narrow. You getting me?”

“You’re talking some high-level demon shit, right?” he asked. I nodded. “We don’t get much of that here. Mostly run-of-the-mill stuff. Coven wars. Revenge cursings. Domestic disputes over questionable potion use. That kind of stuff.”

“Well, here’s what I can tell you. I was just attacked by another reaver, apparently the first one’s floor boss. I seem to be the only one around who’s able to see these monsters’ weak spots, but I wasn’t finding one on this creep.” I gave him a full description. “You find Yale, I suggest you use the big guns. Flatten him with a steamroller. Drop a bomb on him. Do not underestimate him, okay?”

“Should I expect some weird shit to go down at the festival this week?”

“If it does, and we need backup, I’ll give you a call.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his card. Handing it to Cassandra, he said, “See that you do.”

Sergeant Preston made sure nobody else came to bother us, except an EMT who smelled of stale cigarette smoke and looked like she’d been up for the past forty-eight hours. I was the only one who didn’t wince when the makeshift bandages came off.

Desmond had marked me permanently. Four deep wounds in the back of each hand still oozed blood, but at a much less life-threatening rate. “You’re going to need stitches,” said the EMT.

For some reason a picture came to mind that I couldn’t shake. Granny May bent over her quilting, moving that needle steadily up and down as she hummed “Rock of Ages,” looking up every once in a while to smile at me as I lay on the floor playing solitaire, trying to get her cat, Snookums, to move its butt off my cards. Unexpected tears filled my eyes.

“I am?” I said.What the hell? Counting grade school, I’d probably had more stitches than a Victorian ball gown.

“She may be feeling a little shocky,” the EMT told Cassandra.

Cassandra pointed to the puddle under the table. “All that blood is hers.”

The EMT nodded. “Better bring the cookies and juice then.” I let the ladies help me into the ambulance and didn’t even protest when the EMT covered me with a blanket. Sometimes it’s nice to be comforted.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Thirty-two stitches, twelve cookies, and five cups of juice later, Cassandra and I arrived back at the RV. Bergman’s irritation abated somewhat when he saw my war wounds, but he still didn’t want us there, watching him do his top-secret, need-to-know-level engineering. So we dumped our gear and went back outside. Someone, probably Cole, had set five neon-green lawn chairs out front under the awning. I supposed we were now TV stars, having set off the cameras inside the Chinese lanterns, but it didn’t matter. Nobody was awake in the bedroom to watch us.

“I am beat,” said Cassandra, slouching down so she could rest her head against the back of her chair. “How am I supposed to do any readings tonight when I feel like burnt toast?”

“Fake it,” I suggested.

She looked at me with the kind of horror Granny May might’ve experienced upon hearing me utter a dirty word. “Are you kidding me?”

“Cassandra, you have to do an hour-long show plus one ‘prize’ reading afterward, and if you’re lucky it’ll be for dragon-breath. Where’s the harm in telling people they’ll find true love or get a lucky break?”

Her face pinched like she’d just bitten into a lemon. “It’s just not done by genuine psychics. It’s unethical.”

“Okay, chill. I was just trying to help you out.”

She rolled her head toward me and smiled tiredly. “It’s just been such a long day . . .” Yeah, I guess I had put her through the ringer. The fight had been bad enough, but in its own way, the hospital visit had been worse.

I’d ended up enjoying the ambulance ride in a pathetic I-haven’t-driven-this-fast-in-weeks kind of way. On the way I’d developed a strange sort of sugar rush. At the hospital I’d been transferred to a wheelchair and almost immediately freaked Cassandra out by popping a wheelie. Hey, I might as well celebrate my recent triumph, since clearly no one else would. We’d been waiting in an interim room (the hallway) for several minutes when I noted her swiping at an escaping tear. Now that bothered me.

“Are you still upset about your vision? Or was the fight too much for you?” I knew she’d seen plenty of violence in her time, but I still hated to expose her and Miles to the seamy side of my work. A thought hit me. Was I truly about protecting them? Or did I just fear the way they’d look at me when they finally figured out what I was capable of? Ouch, definitely too hot to handle until later.

She’d thought about it awhile, her lips pressed tight, then she’d shrugged. “As much as I complain about my lot, I do enjoy living. When I think of all the places I’ve been, all the people I’ve met, all the wonderful curiosities I’ve explored and how, after all this time, there is still so much to see, so much to know”—she shrugged—“I’m afraid it’s finally slipping through my fingers.”

“Your visions, I know they come true a lot, but I really believe they’re just possibilities. I think what you see is more likely to occur. But in a world where anything can happen, you have to believe we can choose things. And we can change things.”

“I want to . . .”

“What about that guy, Sergeant Preston? How come you brushed him off?”

More tears welled in Cassandra’s eyes. “When I touched him, Isaw . . .”

“What?”

“He has a little boy from his first marriage. His widowed mother depends on him and his three brothers adore him. And he is going to die trying to save me.”

“Wow, that does kind of put a big old stinky blanket on the budding romance.”

“Jasmine, I’m serious!”

“Oh for chrissake, Cassandra, why do you have to be all gloom and doom lately?” I had an inspiration. “Why can’t you just jump in the sack with the guy, do the happy hoppy, and wallow in regret later like the rest of us lowlifes?”

“The happy hoppy?” She smirked.

“Hey, I’m a quart low here. You want clever, you better get me some replacement blood.”

“You are such a hypocrite. I know you have never just ‘hopped in the sack’ with anyone. It’s not in you.”

“Hey, if I want a lecture on my faults I’ll call my dad. Oh, that reminds me, I should call my dad.” I pulled out my phone.

“Jasmine,” Cassandra hissed, “we are not done here.”

“Yes. We are,” I said. “We have clearly established that your recent visions suck so bad we’re going to have to take drastic steps to break them. Also that you really need to get laid.” I bulldozed over Cassandra’s shocked intake of breath by greeting my father. “Hey, Albert.” I pointed to the phone, mouthed, “It’s my dad,” and turned my back to her before she managed to reach past her civilized veneer and smack me a good one.

“Jaz? Did you try to call earlier?”

“Nope.”

“Huh. Somebody keeps calling and hanging up.”

“Probably a telemarketer. Um, could you call me right back?” As in, on his scrambled line.

“All right.”

We hung up. Seconds later we’d reconnected in a way that was safer, at least from his end. “Look, Albert, I’ve encountered a creature nobody seems to know much about. It’s called a reaver. Third eye in the middle of the forehead. Badass shield that repels bullets and blades unless you can find the sweet spot. Takes souls but only under certain circumstances. I’ve been able to get some background on them but not much. I was hoping you could call some people. Maybe see if anybody’s ever dealt with one of these things before.” I really didn’t expect Albert to be able to help me on this one. But he’d rediscovered quite a bit of his pride assisting on my last case, so I was hoping we could continue the process on this one.

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks. Talk to you soon.”

“Will do.” Funny, in our thirty-second conversation he seemed to have shed ten years. Had he really felt that useless in his retirement? If so, maybe I should talk to Evie. No way could I keep him busy enough to maintain this new outlook. Maybe she could think of something.

“Lucille Robinson?”

Cassandra wheeled me toward the white-jacketed forty-something holding my file folder in her hand. She was studying me with an air of disbelief. “How in the world does a person get eight nearly identical wounds in her hands?”

“I’ve been hanging with the wrong crowd. My mother always told me it would come to this. I guess I should’ve listened to her, huh?”

She eyed my gauze-covered fists. “What did you do?”

“Would you believe I wiped out while trying to surf the handrail at the telephone building?”

She shook her head, her ponytail waving a double negative behind her.

“Would you believe I punched a skateboarder who was surfing the handrail at the telephone building?”

“That I’ll buy.”

“Sounds like we’ve got a winner,” I said just as young black guy with the name “Dr. Darryl” stitched on his lab coat entered the picture. For a minute there he couldn’t seem to decide which one needed more attention, me or my file.

“Ms. Robinson.”

“Hi, Doc. Would you believe I punched a skateboarder—”

“No.”

Clunk. All at once my adrenaline rush from the fight fizzled, my goofy survival high vanished, and the don’t-worry-be-happy bubbles in my poor blood-deprived brain burst. “I think I need to lie down.”

Cassandra helped me to the table and laid her hand under my cheek because some sadistic nurse had stuffed the pillow with concrete blocks. As I rested my head in her palm, I had my own vision. My blood-soaked corpse lay on the glowing wooden deck of theConstance Malloy . Desmond stood over it, tonguing my quivering soul while his third eye glowed brighter and brighter blue.

Dr. Darryl stuck a needle in my left hand so he could numb it, at which point I decided the entire medical profession was an oxymoron. My brain wanted to rant further, but the vision expanded.

Now the Tor-al-Degan arrived on the yacht. Not vanquished after all, just transplanted from Miami so she could finish the job she’d started. She shambled toward my failing soul, licking her chops, her pincers waving with delight at the prospective meal before her.

“Do you feel this, Ms. Robinson?” Dr. Darryl asked, pinching the skin of my numbed hand.

Do I feel it? Are you kidding me? I am in the middle of something absolutely epic. Me, Jasmine Parks, the girl who’s barely equipped to run her own microwave. I’m telling you, this guy I know, Raoul, has made a huge mistake recruiting me to fight these freaks. I can’t deal with them anymore. It’s not like they want to steal my credit card or sell me a bag of weed. Ramos wants to be emperor of the damn world, and Chien-Lung’s dragon suit could just get him there. And as if that isn’t scary enough, Creepy Reaver Dude is after the source, the stuff that makes me Jaz. And he could get it. He could do me till I’m done, and then what? Then what? THEN WHAT?

I started to shake. It wasn’t making the sewing any easier, therefore the doc did not approve. He frowned at me.

“She’s afraid of needles,” said Cassandra, shrugging when he gave her a perplexed look, as if to say, “Who can explain the human mind?”

I can. It’s a bat cave. A warren. A maze. And I’m about to get lost in mine.

Cassandra leaned over and whispered into my ear, “I saw that vision too, Jaz. It’s what they want you to see. They want the fear to mold to you, like a body cast. Because if you can’t move, you can’t fight. You were right before. We have a choice. We can change the vision. You were right.”

Was I?Big blank moment when I hoped somebody with the Big Answers (Yo, Raoul?) would jump in and give me a big yuh-huh.

Raoul’s busy, Jaz. So pick one. Are you right? Or are you crazy?

I had to be right. Had to. If not, I’d be spending the rest of eternity lying on rock-hard hospital beds, peeing into metal bowls and yelling for the nurse to pump up the volume onWheel of Fortune .

I watched the thread pull the pieces of my broken skin together, one tiny stitch at a time, and thought it strange to be able to see yourself mended.

“Do you get torn up like this a lot?” asked Dr. Darryl.

“Yeah.”

“Well, as long as you’re in Texas, I guess I don’t have to worry about job security.”

Ha. Ha-ha. Hey, Doc, while you’re at it, can you stitch my soul back on nice and tight? I’m afraid it’s coming loose at the edges.

“Jaz?” I looked up, so immersed in the memory of our hospital jaunt that I was surprised to find myself sitting under the RV’s awning with Cassandra while kids yelled in the background and the smells of pulled-pork barbecue made my mouth water. She stood. “I think I’ll take a walk. Maybe it will clear my mind.”

“Okay.” I watched her go. When I looked back out at the bay, nothing had changed. TheConstance Malloy sat there like a sore on the water, and nobody knew. “Bitch needs to burn,” I murmured. Checking my watch, I saw it was nearly setup time. Though we’d put the basics in place and practiced until we didn’t actively suck, we still needed some audio stuff and a couple of lights. Clearly Bergman’s area, but maybe he could use a hand. I hauled myself out of the chair, various aches and pains reminding me it was time for another dose of painkillers, and went inside to see if he needed a roadie.

He sat on the floor, his back supported by Mary-Kate. He’d returned all his gadgets and gizmos to their respective boxes. At present he clutched a small plastic cup in his hand the same way you might expect King Arthur to grasp the Holy Grail.

“I got it!” he gushed.

“Got what?”

“Our weapon! Here, let me show you.” He took a red capsule the size of an Advil out of the cup and handed it to me.

“What’s this?”

“A time-release neural jolt that will make Lung’s brain tell his body it’s had severe ultraviolet exposure. It’s hard to explain—”

“Even if you wanted to—”

“Which I don’t. The cool thing is, it’s mostly fueled by his biochemistry!”

“So . . . the energy his body generates is what will set it off?”

“Not just set it off, magnify it several hundred times. He should be dead within two hours of ingesting it.”

“So now we just need to make sure he gets a colossal headache?”

Bergman shrugged. “Or the munchies. However you can get him to swallow the pill.”

I shook my head, viewing Bergman with renewed respect. “Can I ask you something, Miles?”

I could tell by the set of his shoulders he wanted to say no. But he surprised me.

“Okay.”

“Why do you do this?” My gesture took in the monitor, showing the empty decks and hallways of theConstance Malloy , the laptops currently snoozing on the floor beside sleeping Cole, the lethal pill in Bergman’s hand.

He adjusted his glasses, tried to meet my eyes and failed. “Because I have to,” he mumbled. Was he embarrassed? At the moment, I didn’t care.

“No, you don’t,” I said.

“Yes, I do,” he insisted.

“What if you didn’t?”

He thought about that a second as he drummed his fingers on his leg and studied the TV over my shoulder. Now he met my eyes. “I’d probably be dead.”

“Really? How do you figure?”

“Boredom. You know, I’m not much good with people.”

“You could be.”

He shook his head. “I’ve tried. The wrong things keep coming out of my mouth. And honestly, most people annoy the hell out of me. I’d rather be alone than put up with their idiocy. I mean, all I have to do is watch two minutes of any reality-TV show and I’m reminded why I never go out. Anyway, I’ve come to accept that I’ll be spending the majority of my life with machines. And that’s okay, because I love them. I love everything about them. All the tiny parts that have to work together in perfect order so the whole will operate exactly as planned. I love the entire process, from concept to actuality. I even love the setbacks.”

“In other words, you’re hooked.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you happy?”

He gave a kind of sideways nod. “Most of the time.”

Wow. Another first. I never thought, of the two of us, that I’d end up being the one envying Bergman.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

As Miles and I finished the prep work for our show, the tent flap opened and in walked the Chinese woman Cole and I had befriended, carrying Smiling Baby on her hip.

“Well, hi there,” I said as I hopped down from the stage.

She bowed a couple of times, smiling widely as she said, “Hello. Hello.”

“You know, I don’t think we ever exchanged names. I’m Lucille Robinson,” I said, pointing to myself because I still wasn’t sure how much English she understood. Then I bowed.

“My name Xia Ge,” she said sweetly. She pointed to the baby. “This Xia Lai.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Is Cole there?”

I looked over my shoulder. Oh, she meant—

“Did someone call for me?” asked Cole as he strutted through the tent’s back opening and grinned at Ge and her little boy. He’d showered and changed into his costume—tight black dress pants, matching shirt, and a glittering red vest with enormous black buttons. Lai immediately reached for him, so Cole obliged, grabbing him firmly under the arms and swinging him in circles until he giggled and squealed.

“You are perform tonight?” Xia Ge asked him shyly. I could tell she approved of the outfit.

“Yeah. Are you still coming? If I have time, maybe I can fit Lai, here, into my juggling act.”

She nodded happily. “Yes, we will be there.” She touched his hand briefly as she added, “Then you come see acrobats show end of week. Yes? You still have tickets?”

Cole nodded. “Yeah. You know, unless something prevents us, we’ll definitely be there.” He handed Baby Lai back to his mom, she bowed some more, and they left.

Hmm, should I lecture or let it go? “Do you always have this effect on women and small children?” I asked.

Cole stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down bashfully at the toes of his high-tops. “Pretty much.”

“You’re a regular flirting fiend, you know that?”

“I don’t flirt with married women,” he said with an absolutely straight face.Really? I wasn’t sure I bought it and he must have been able to tell. “Did that look like flirting to you?” he demanded.

I considered his expressions, his body language, not much different than usual. But then he was usually flirting. “Maybe.”

He was in my face in moments, grinning like a lunatic. “Then I haven’t been flirting with you enough lately.” He grabbed my arm, kissed down the length of it as he made French lover noises. “Hwah, hwah, hwah, my ravissant mademoiselle.”

“Oh my God, you are such a dork!” It kind of tickled so, despite my best intentions, I was laughing by the time he got to my hand, where he stopped with genuine horror.

“What the hell?” So much for funsies. My giggles dried up like a desert stream.

“Ambushed by a reaver,” I said shortly.

“I hope he looks worse than you do.”

“Um, probably not. He ran before I could do any real damage.”

“Woman, you need a keeper.”

“It’s probably my fault. He was pissed about the reaver I killed last night,” I said. “You know what they say, look before you shoot.”

“They say that?”

“Yes. And it pertains to making friends while on the job too. Did you realize you’ve arranged for your new pals to possibly be sitting in the same audience with Chien-Lung?”

“Actually, yeah, I have. The way I figure it, the dad’s one of his acrobats, so they’ve been under his thumb for a while. Which also means they might know something that would help us.”

“You don’t seem to have much confidence in Bergman’s inventions.”

“Just planning for just in case.”

I considered him, a twenty-six-year-old stud who loved women and children but wasn’t married, who’d lost his business but had found a way to progress, who popped bubbles like a sixth grader but made sensible, thoughtful, professional decisions. “No wonder you fit right in. You’re just as warped as the rest of us!”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “It took you long enough to figure that one out. Speaking of which, it’s almost dark, beautiful lady. Aren’t you supposed to be getting into something a lot less difficult to see through?”

The costume. My dive into belly-dancing denial had gone so deep I hadn’t even seen it yet. Oh man, if I was going to make any sort of adjustments to what promised to be a too-sexy outfit, I’d better get busy. I ran out of the tent, half wishing my newly found awkwardness would allow me to break an ankle before I reached the closet and, as I saw it, my impending doom.

When I got back to the RV, Vayl had already risen. Grumpy. His first words to me as I entered the kitchen were “I want to talk to you. Outside.”

I felt like punching something because, despite my hurt feelings, I still responded warmly (okay, hotly) to his getup. He’d dressed for the show in clothes so retro he’d have looked at home on the set ofA Christmas Carol . But the pants were just tight enough, the jacket just the right length, the shirt showed just enough chest hair that all I wanted was to slide down the wall and stare.

I followed him out the door to the water’s edge, trying not to slink guiltily, fighting the feeling that the dean had caught me smoking in the girls’ room.

“What happened today?” he demanded. “Neither Cassandra nor Bergman would give me any details.”

“I’m not surprised. You look ready to pounce.”

“I am!” He realized he’d been close to shouting and lowered his voice. “Consider this a formal debriefing. Leave nothing out. Go.”

Go? What am I, a sprinter? And what the hell with theI Spytalk? With a mounting sensation ofyou suck feeding my attitude, I gave him his damn debriefing: dream, reaver, hospital, killer pill, Xia Lai, and all.

After I’d finished he stood staring at me, one hand in the pocket of his gray slacks, the other clutching his cane so hard I expected the jewel on top to pop off at any second.

“And why do you smell like Cole?”

“Oh, we were just goofing around.” Vayl’s eyes blazed dark green with gold flecks exploding like depth charges at random intervals. “Not likethat . Like, joking.”

He started to pace, his cane making an irritatingclack! as he hit it against the seawall every other step. Also there was muttering and some very sharp gestures stopping just short of punching the air. When he whirled on me I actually jumped, which didn’t help my frame of mind. One. Bit.

“You are driving me mad!” he thundered. “Do you have no sense of restraint whatsoever?”

“You’re the one who volunteered me to strut my stuff in front of mobs of weirdos!”

“This has nothing to do with belly dancing!”

“This has everything to do with belly dancing!”In a roundabout way, but still.

“If you had not killed that reaver last night—”

“That poor man he murdered would have lost his soul!”

Vayl jabbed his cane into the concrete so hard it shivered. “You could havedied today! And how would I have learned? Perhaps the barbecue chefs would have had another fortuitous gossip session? Or maybe Cole would have mentioned it between play dates with Chinese Mother and Baby Charms-Them-All.”

“What’s your point?”

He struggled to bring his voice to maybe-they-won’t-hear-us-in-Mexico level. “I would like to wake up one evening without wondering whether or not you will be alive to greet me!”

“I am what I am, Vayl! I take risks. Sometimes that means I get hurt. Someday that means I’ll die. And I won’t come back. You’re going to have to deal with that.”

“Why should I, when you could be like me?” The words ripped out of him as if yanked by an invisible hand. He jerked, as if I’d slapped him. I’d never have had the energy. His last pronouncement had left me completely zapped. Vayl wanted to turn me? So I could hang out with him forever? I didn’t know whether to cry or puke.

“I apologize,” he said. “I had no right—”

“No. You didn’t.”

More silence. He heaved a big sigh, and I suddenly wondered if it felt extra good to him, taking a deep, sweet breath of air after not breathing the entire day before. Judging from his present stance, not so much. He’d turned his side to me so that he faced the bay and his feet were placed just right to knock one out of the park if I had one to pitch.

“The dreams.”

“Yes.”

“Without Gregory’s help . . . do you have any idea what to do next?”

“Yes.”

He turned, fully facing me in his surprise. “You do?”

“I think I need to talk to David.”

“Not over the phone, I take it.”

“Nope.”

“I want . . .” He ground his teeth together. “Would you mind doing that while I am awake? I would appreciate the chance to watch over you.”

“No problem.”

Vayl came to me, lifted a curl from my face, brushing my cheek with his fingertips as he did so. I didn’t understand why, with his powers so closely related to cold, his touch couldn’t leave me numb. No such luck. Just that slight graze of skin on skin had sent little spikes of flame rushing through my bloodstream. It took an effort not to pant.This is your boss. Who has mentally taken you through the whole human-to-vamp scenario. Where is your pride, woman? “Please believe,” he said, “no matter how much I wish it, I would never ask you to become a vampire. I do know better.”

“I should hope so!”There it is! You go, girl! At least until he touches you again!

He nodded. “But I wish you would try somewhat harder to lengthen your life.”

“Now you sound like Pete.”Oh, hey, somebody sound a gong . I’d just spotted a hint of dimple. “Look, I am good at this job, Vayl. You of all people should know that.”

“I do. I just—ever since Miami, I have been haunted by the vision of you lying limp within the Tor-al-Degan’s jaws. It has forcefully reminded me how vulnerable you are.”

Wow, how often do you really get to step outside your own selfish view? And here I thought I was the only one who still had nightmares starring that monster’s putrid scent and her bright red tentacles.

“Jaz!” Bergman yelled out the RV door. “Half an hour till show time.”

“Gotta get into my costume,” I told Vayl. I smiled brightly, pretending my stomach hadn’t just tied itself into a noose.You can do this, Jaz. No problem. Just pretend you’re back on the beach, not in a tent full of strangers.

“Are you nervous?” asked Vayl.

“No, who me? Of course not! Why would I be? Ha, ha, ha!” I skipped off to the RV, ignoring the undeniable sound of Vayl’s low chuckle behind me.

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

Bergman had estimated our fifteen double rows of benches could comfortably hold about one hundred fifty people. Since nobody looked that relaxed, I guessed our crowd tipped the scale around two hundred.

No doubt about it,I thought as I stood waiting in the wings.My skirt’s going to fall right off. Oh God, did I remember to put on underwear? I checked.Whew! Plus the skirt’s tied on pretty tight. Oh geez. What about the top? There’s nothing tothis damn thing! What if I fall out? What if I just plain fall?

Vayl had forced me into this, the lout. I began to plot my revenge. The next time he slept I would sneak into his tent and draw a mustache on his face in red marker. I’d insist he go shopping with me and then make him stand next to a bin of panties while I tried on clothes. I’d take him to Evie’s first PTA meeting and volunteer him to serve cookies and punch.

Hey, Cole’s not a bad juggler. Bowling pins, rings, a couple of cans of tennis balls. Didn’t know he had it in him. What? Is he done already? Holy crap, it’s my turn!

Bergman switched from general lighting to a single spot and pumped up the music. I swishy swished onto the stage. The crowd greeted me with loud, prolonged applause. Now that I could no longer hide behind the curtain and obsess, I felt better. After all, I wore three tons of makeup, most of Cassandra’s traveling jewelry, and six layers of skirting, under which I’d strapped my leg holster and a sweet little .38 I usually reserved for pants-free occasions. My gold sequined top erred on the skimpy side, but rows of flat golden discs had been sewn to it so it looked less like a sports bra and more like a lets-play-banker costume. Long, sheer black sleeves covered my arms, and black lace fingerless gloves disguised the bandages on my hands.

And those posed the real challenge. The hands are an integral part of the belly dance and do a lot to make you look graceful. Despite being under the influence of painkillers, they hurt like hell to hold correctly. But concentrating on that really helped me ignore the fact that Chien-Lung had indeed shown up and sat front and center, where he smiled and bobbed his head in time with the music. He wore another traditional Chinese robe, this one black embroidered with red dragons. I caught his eye once, and immediately felt grateful he had to keep his hands stuffed in those oversized sleeves. Otherwise he probably would’ve been waving dollar bills around like the best man at a bachelor party.

Lung’s lady sidekick, who sat to his right, didn’t seem too thrilled with his interest in the belly dancer either. She kept nudging him with her elbow, until finally he leaned over and said something to the vamp to his left and they both shared a quiet laugh. I thought I recognized the new vamp as one who’d waited out the fight the night before to see who’d win.

On the other side of the aisle, the Xia clan seemed to be enjoying their night out together. Mom sat straight and proper, hands in her lap, but her eyes had shone extra bright when Cole took the stage. Xia Lai stood on his dad’s muscular legs, bouncing in time with the music.

Before I knew it the first song had ended. The next one was much faster. Harder, yes, but more fun too. About halfway through the crowd started to clap in time, which inspired me to try moves I hadn’t attempted in years despite the very real possibility that I might be too sore to move in the morning. I must’ve pulled it off, because they cheered at the end.

Now I remembered why I’d always been the first one to arrive at my dance lessons and the last to leave. Forget tattoos. Done correctly and received with an open heart, belly dancing is true body art. And my audience was ideal. Besides Lung and his pal, who I pointedly ignored, it was mostly families. No wolf whistles. No whooping and hollering. Just lots of clapping in time as I moved them through the music, telling them a story they understood at the gut, where rhythm speaks its universal language.Okay , I admitted, as I bowed to yet another round of avid applause,this is a freaking blast .

The last song had barely begun before Vayl began to sing along from the back of the tent. I didn’t even know the thing had words, and I sure hadn’t expected him to turn it into a group performance. But there he was, walking toward me down the center of the aisle, singing Romanian in his husky baritone.

Definitely a love song,I decided as I turned and swung my hips at him. I looked over my shoulder. His smile was definitely predatory. I gave him a little torso roll and he rewarded me with a look of such piercing hunger I nearly jumped on him. How we maintained a PG rating through the rest of that song I will never know. But the thunderous applause at the end told me it was big fun.

I strutted off the stage, waving and blowing kisses to my new fans. Which was undoubtedly why, as soon as I made it past the backstage curtain, I ran straight into a support pole. I damn near brought the whole house down. Literally. I held the pole very still and tried not to think of what would happen if we couldn’t lure Lung into a one-on-one because the Assistant Assassin ran her head into a steel rod.

A sound to my right caught my attention. It was very subtle, landing somewhere between a quiet snort and a faint gurgle. I took a short hike outside the tent and found Cole rolling on the ground.

“Are you all right?” I rushed to him, trying to hold him still so I could see the site of his injury. Then I got a look at his face. “Are youlaughing ?”

“Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face!” He was trying to hold it in so the audience wouldn’t be distracted from Vayl’s singing. But the laughter kept slipping out the edges of his mouth.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” I demanded.

“Than to watch a gorgeous woman belly dance? We are talking aboutme , right?”

“So it was good?”

“I sure couldn’t figure out why you were freaking out about the whole thing. Until the pole incident, of course. Good thing nobody saw you but me.”

“I saw her.” Cassandra came up beside us, laughing so hard her shoulders were shaking.

“Oh for—isn’t it your turn?” I glared at her.

“Yes, and I was dreading it so badly I threw up three times. But now I feel better.” Her smile was as warm as a hug. “Thank you.”

“Hey, anytime I can entertain you with my humiliation, I feel I’ve done my job. What the hell is it with me lately?” I wondered aloud. “I can’t seem to make it through a single day without running into or falling over something. And I was a college athlete!”

Cassandra regarded me soberly. “The universe requires balance, Jasmine. Your powers as a Sensitive have increased, have they not?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Perhaps your recent spate of awkward incidents is the price you are required to pay for that boost.”

“Well, if it’s true, that sucks.”

She nodded, clearly distracted by other, more important considerations. “Will you”—Cassandra licked her lips as her eyes darted toward the tent, as if she could see Lung through two layers of canvas and a black curtain—“when the time comes, you will stay close by, won’t you?”

“Is in the room close enough?”

“Oh, really? I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that.”

“It was Vayl’s idea. When we give away the free reading, we toss in a private belly dance too. That puts me right beside you the whole time he’s there.” There was a moment of silence from inside the tent, followed by a healthy round of applause. Then Vayl began his final song. “We know from talking to Yetta Simms that Lung loves the escargot. So we’ll offer him a tray of delicacies and hope he’s in the mood to indulge himself.” Cassandra already knew this stuff, but I needed to keep her thinking, thus the review. If her analytical mind let go, she was going to freeze like a math whiz at a spelling bee.

“And if he won’t eat it?” she asked.

“We’ll figure some other way to get him to swallow the pill. Maybe stuff it in his vitamins or something. That comes later— maybe. For now, encourage him to eat. Eat with him even, but stay away from the snails.”

She nodded, looking fairly calm until your eyes dropped to her hands. Her long slender fingers kept twining in and around one another like newborn snakes.

“Hey, Cassandra,” said Cole, “I meant to tell you. Your boyfriend’s in the audience.” He said it as if we’d teleported back to junior high, and he suspected she’d just contracted a terminal case of the cooties.

“My . . . what?”

Cole went into his superhero pose, legs spread, hands on hips, chin directed squarely at the sky, and sang, “Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, SWAT man!”

“Oh, God!” Cassandra clutched at me, her fingernails digging into my arms.Ow! “Jasmine! The vision!”

I hid the dread that twisted my insides at the realization that everybody in her divination had now reached his or her appointed place. “Don’t worry, Cassandra. When I see the snake, I promise I’ll shoot it before it strikes.”

“I’ll be there too,” Cole assured her.

I watched Cassandra, wondering how she’d manage to keep it together with her head full of death and her future depending on a rookie assassin, a woman with more stitches than sense, a distracted vampire, and a paranoid engineer. But I guess I already knew. She would because she had to. That’s always how people like us end up getting through hells like this.

The applause built to a crescendo and then faded as Vayl began to introduce our main event. Cole held the back tent flap aside for Cassandra and she stepped into the staging area, gracefully avoiding the pole that had nearly concussed me minutes earlier. She took a couple of deep breaths. “How do I look?” she asked.

She’d pulled her braids back and tied them with a vivid-blue scarf. Her matching skirt was embroidered with black sequined flowers. Her black sleeveless top provided the perfect backdrop for one of the pieces of jewelry she hadn’t lent me—a gold choker that started just under her ears and ended slightly above her collarbones. “Very Egyptian queen,” I said.

She nodded and smiled, but the pleasure never reached her eyes.

Vayl swept the backdrop curtain aside. The applause pulled her forward.

Cole asked, “Is she going to be okay?”

“I think so. But SWAT man’s presence is not a good sign. He dies in her vision too.”

“It must suck to be psychic.” Under his breath, Cole added, “We have company.”

I heard it then, a soft step accompanied by the squeal of a pumped-up baby. Xia Ge’s husband stepped around the corner of the tent. He carried Lai, whose resemblance to his dad was remarkable considering the difference in their ages and emotional states. Lai obviously thought walking with Dad was the be all, end all of great times. He bounced his butt against his dad’s forearm and patted him repeatedly on his broad chest and shoulders, as if Lai was a one baby band and Dad his instrument.

Dad, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to cry. It wasn’t the face he’d worn inside the tent, but then his family and manager had been around. I felt an instant connection to him. It sucked having to hide intense fears from the world. I gave him a warm smile and bowed.

“Hi. I’m Lucille, and this is Cole.”

He bowed too, which Lai thought they should do twenty more times. He communicated this by lunging forward so Dad had to catch him and pull him upright again. He kept it up the whole time we talked.

“I am Xia Shao,” said Dad. “My wife, Ge, tell me you save Lai’s life. I thank you.” He bowed deeply.

“It’s our pleasure,” Cole said.

When he straightened, Shao said, “Ge telling me you very nice people.Good people.” He stared hard at us, as if his eyes alone had the power to reveal any evil tendencies we might be hiding. In the end he shrugged helplessly. “Sheknow people. I trust her. She say I should talk to you.”

“She’s very sweet,” I replied. “A good mother.” I shook my head in amazement. “So patient.”

He cracked a smile. “Usually.” We watched Lai do some more waist bends before Shao continued. “I work—” he jerked his head toward the amazing acrobat arena. “Many friends there.” He shrugged. “You travel together, work together, you become close.”

Cole and I nodded.

“I have friends . . .” Shao looked away, his eyes scrunching at the edges as he struggled to hold back tears. “They disappear. Their clothes, equipment, all still in trailers, but no friends. They not coming to show tonight.” Now he looked at us, trying to communicate how bizarre he regarded this behavior to be. “Something is terrible wrong.”

In my mind I saw the men who had attacked Lung, still dripping from their swim from shore, and agreed with Shao that something was terrible wrong.

Now that Shao had said the hard part, the words came much faster and tougher to understand as his accent also increased. “I believe Chien-Lung have something to do with this. You know?” He pointed a thumb toward the tent. “Front row?”

We nodded. Boy, did we ever know.

“Lung own that boat.” He pointed to theConstance Malloy . “He bringing all Chinese crew to run it, but they stuck in Chicago.” He tried to find the word, couldn’t, and showed us instead, his free hand starting above his head, lowering slowly as he wiggled his fingers.

“Snowstorm?” guessed Cole. Shao pointed at him and nodded.

Aha!Now I understood how we’d lucked into the catering gig. I’d thought it out of character for Lung to allow strangers aboard his yacht. But with his staff snowbound in Chicago and a big shindig in the works, he’d had no other choice.

Shao went on. “My brother, Xia Wu, is part of crew. I fear what will happen when he arrive. I fear he disappear too.”

“What makes you think he’ll be in particular danger?” asked Cole.

Shao looked over both his shoulders and behind us. He leaned forward, giving Lai access to the huge buttons on Cole’s vest. He grabbed one and tried to put it in his mouth as Shao whispered, “Wu in army. So was my friends. Very shhh.” He held a finger to his lips to emphasize the secrecy.

Huh. So the People’s Liberation Army wants Chien-Lung dead. Well, I don’t suppose you can plan a coup without rumors flying into the wrong ears.Wu, undoubtedly, was supposed to help overthrow Lung last night, but his flight delay had kept him out of the fighting.

“What if Chien-Lung find out about my brother?” Shao asked. “Maybe he disappear too.” I thought that a definite possibility. “I cannot talk to Chinese authorities. I do not know who is faithful to Chien-Lung. But you. You from America,” he told us, as if we needed to be reminded. “You know who can help?”

Uhhh, well . . . Cole and I looked at each other. He gave me an it’s-your-call shrug.

“What exactly do you want us to do?” I asked Shao.

“I think my friends on that boat.” He pointed to theConstance Malloy . I thought them more likely under that boat, since I’d seen the generals weight the bodies before throwing them overboard. But I let him go on. “Maybe your police go on there, find them. Maybe arrest Lung?”

Maybe Lung would die tonight and we wouldn’t have to worry about it. “I know a policeman here,” I said, thinking of Cassandra’s SWAT man, Preston, and of how badly she and I both wanted to keep him alive. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” I said, knowing I wouldn’t. Unless I absolutely had to.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

With a promise to report to Shao in the morning, I convinced him to go back into the tent. Hopefully Lung would just think Lai had tired of sitting still and nothing would come of their absence. Lai might even help perpetuate the illusion, because the constant bowing and foiled attempts to eat Cole’s button had evidently worn him out. As we said goodbye, he turned in his dad’s arms and rested his head on his shoulder. I figured he’d be asleep before they made it back to the entrance.

“Okay, you were right,” said Cole. “I never should have brought the Xias within a hundred feet of this mess, because now I’m not going to sleep for worrying about them.” He fished a piece of gum out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth.

So the gum had graduated from a kicking-smoking habit to a hindering-stress routine. Like shuffling cards only saner. I linked arms with Cole, liking him even better now that we had something else in common. “They were already in this mess, or weren’t you listening? And hey, if everything goes okay tonight, they’ll be fine. Speaking of which, did you get the food?”

“Yeah. Yetta brought it over just after you went on.”

He took me back into the tent, into the staging area behind the black backdrop, and showed me a round, lace-covered table I hadn’t seen before because it sat in the corner, hidden by shadows. I could hear Cassandra talking as I borrowed Cole’s penlight to peek into the covered trays and dishes the owner of Seven Seas Succulents had provided. As Cassandra told an audience member his daughter would get the scholarship she’d applied for, I whispered into Cole’s ear, “Which one?”

He took my hand and pointed the light at a star-shaped glass plate loaded with escargots. He trained the light on one of them. It had been placed just at the tip of one of the points. “That’s it,” he murmured. “You can tell it’s the right one because there’s a little chip broken off the bottom of the tray just underneath.” I felt along the base of the star and, sure enough, my finger found the indentation.

On the other side of the curtain, Cassandra said, “I am growing tired. Perhaps just one more item from the audience?”

I heard scraping and shuffling. Then Cassandra said, with barely concealed regret, “Sergeant Preston?”

Uh-oh. I peeked around the side of the curtain that divided our narrow space from the stage. Yup, SWAT man had volunteered his Seiko. He and his kid, a cute little dude about five or six with his dad’s intelligent brown eyes, sat in the back row. Well, Preston sat. The kid stood on the bench, looking deeply enthralled. Suddenly Cassandra couldn’t beat off her admirers with a rubber mallet.

“What is it you want to know?” she asked stiffly as her hands worried over the watch.

“There’s a woman I’m interested in,” he said, giving her a slow wink. “Will I see her again?”

She hesitated, but couldn’t, even in this moment, bring herself to lie. You had to admire that kind of resolve. “Yes.”

“You are allowed two more questions,” said Vayl. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him, standing on the opposite end of the stage. He and Cassandra had agreed audience members could ask three questions of her, hoping it would whet Lung’s appetite for a more in-depth reading for himself.

“Will I ever remarry?”

“I do not see that in your future.”

He looked surprised, then shrugged. “And your last question?” put in Vayl.

“Okay, uh, there’s no school tomorrow, so my boy and I are going fishing in the morning. Will we catch anything?”

Cassandra’s hands, holding tightly to the watch, jerked. Her voice, when she answered, wound so tight I could almost hear her vocal chords twang. “Nothing you want him to take off the hook.”

The whole audience held its breath. “Then I’ll definitely be taking him to the zoo,” said Preston. Everyone laughed, except him, Cassandra, and Vayl. Looking at Preston, I got the feeling he knew she was holding back the most important truths she could tell him.

Vayl stepped to the center of the stage. He held a gleaming black bowl in his hand. As planned, Bergman had piled the torn halves of our audience’s tickets inside. “Now it is time to announce tonight’s winner of a free private reading from Cassandra, preceded by a belly dance from the fabulous Lucille and accompanied by free refreshments. This will take place as soon as the tent has cleared. We are drawing by ticket number, so please look to your ticket stubs now.”

He jumbled the papers as he said, “And the winner is . . . 103.” He looked around the room. “Just bring your stub to me, if you would—”

Lung’s male companion, who held their ticket stubs, began to whisper in his ear as he bounced in his seat. He looked as excited as an old fart who’s just gotten a BINGO. When Lung nodded he jumped up and handed Vayl the ticket, which he pretended to study.

“This is the one!” said Vayl. He held his hands out to the audience. “Please give our lucky winner and all of our performers tonight a round of applause.” The audience obeyed. As they shuffled out, Vayl said, “Thank you for your attendance and please drive home safely!”

I kept my eyes on Lung, who was getting it from both sides. His lady friend hissed in one ear, making fierce gestures that said she was not pleased with this turn of events. The new vamp chattered into the other, encouraging him to stay, relax, have fun.

Lung listened to them both, but his eyes followed the Xias as they exited the tent, lingering hungrily on Lai as he snoozed on Dad’s shoulder.Don’t worry, you freak , I thought.We’ve got just the snack you need .

Finally Lung focused on Vayl. “I am indeed fortunate,” he said in a perfect British accent. “Would you mind if I stand, however? I find these benches somewhat taxing.”

“Certainly. If you would just wait here, I shall escort Cassandra backstage to rest and Lucille will arrive to entertain you momentarily.”

Gulp. I clutched at the curtain, as if only it could support me under a sudden spurt of nausea. Now I’d only be dancing for three, but the very intimacy of such a setting made me want to zip into an ankle-length parka. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.Quit being a wimp. You can do this. You haveto do this . I stroked the .38 riding my thigh as I might a beloved dog. It calmed me enough that I was able to meet Vayl and Cassandra with a pleasant smile.

“Ready?” I asked brightly, as if we were about to trot off to the church picnic alongside Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher.

Vayl nodded, releasing Cassandra and offering me his arm. We cruised back onstage. Lung now crouched on the bench, as we’d seen him do on the yacht. His companions continued to flank him. Vayl led me down the stage steps to meet them.

“May I introduce Miss Lucille Robinson?” Vayl asked.

Lung bowed his head. “You are grace and beauty personified. My name is Chien-Lung,” he said. Nice words, yeah. But the eyesso did not back them up. They reminded me of Dave and his buddies that summer they grew about six inches apiece. Every time they trooped into the kitchen and opened the stove it was like some amazing new discovery. “Whoa! Sticky buns!All right! ”

The girl in me wanted to slap Lung across his face and yell, “Get your eyes off my sticky buns, ya creep!” No, I don’t usually mind. I get that straight guys are going to look at boobs and butts. But generally they’re überdiscreet, and I appreciate that. This guy—not.

Jasmine, don’t tell me you’re surprised this guy’s a weaselly little perve, I lectured myself.Now cut the personal reactions and act like a pro already!

The new vamp, who’d also enjoyed the show, displayed much better manners. He did, however, seem fascinated with the fake ruby I’d placed in my navel. He jumped up to greet me, his hand out and ready to grab mine.

“This is my assistant, Li Ruolan,” Lung said as I slipped my hand into the new vamp’s and murmured, “How nice to meet you.” He’d come dressed in Western clothes: nice brown slacks and a short-sleeved blue shirt with a blue and gray striped tie.

Lung continued. “And this is my adopted daughter, Pengfei Yan.”

Yeah, right. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” I said, working hard to keep it civil. She looked normal enough with her long black hair braided straight down her back. Some artist of a seamstress had embroidered exquisite white flowers all over her sleeveless blue silk blouse. Her black silk pants matched her flats. I even liked her dangly black pearl earrings. Nope, her physical appearance didn’t offend me one bit.

But I’d seen her kill maybe six men the night before. Probably just a drop in the bucket for somebody who associated with a monster like Lung. And none of it showed on that smooth, pale face. In those clear obsidian eyes. Plus something about her psychic odor, the scent that signaled to me, as a Sensitive, that I was dealing with a vampire, turned my stomach. Pengfei emitted a burnt-offering sort of aroma that triggered mental images of mass graves.

Bergman still sat at the back of the tent, so I signaled to him that I was ready. Vayl took a seat across the aisle from Lung, where the Xia family had perched minutes before. As the music started, I moved back onto the stage and began dancing. The painkillers Dr. Darryl had prescribed wore off about halfway through the song, and by the time I finished my hands were throbbing like all the bones had sheered off midway and now scraped against each other like cheese on a grater. I managed to keep my poise, butdamn it hurt. Though I hid it well, Pengfei Yan seemed to suspect. And the sick little bitch got off on it.

“Lovely,” she said after I’d finished. She and Li Ruolan clapped enthusiastically. “Could you do another one?”

Jaz would’ve pulled the .38 and shot that smirk right off her lips. But Lucille Robinson had taken charge, smiled widely at her, and said, “Of course,” before violence could be done. I looked at Bergman expectantly. He fiddled with some knobs and dials for a second, then said, “Sorry, my equipment’s down. Looks like I need to replace some parts, but it’ll be fixed by tomorrow.”

My smile widened for him, only now it was real. The self-centered tech-head had just saved my aching ass.Will wonders never cease?

Vayl stood. “Thank you, Lucille. Would you and Cole bring in the refreshments while Cassandra prepares?” I nodded and rushed offstage as Vayl turned to Lung and said, “This is actually about the time we usually dine, so we hope you will join us.”

I pulled the curtain back to admit Cole, who stood ready with the table. I helped him carry it up the back stairs and to stage left. Now that light shone on it, I could see the ivory lace cloth covering it. Yetta had chosen both silver and glass serving dishes. She’d also provided white china rimmed with red roses for eating, along with heavy silver forks, knives, and spoons.

Vayl inclined his head toward Lung. “You are the lucky winner, sir, so we invite you to fill your plate first.”

“How kind.” Lung went up the stairs to the buffet, followed closely by his cohorts. Cole and I stood on one side of the table, forcing them to walk along the other side, so the stuffed snail would be closest to them. Unfortunately Lung’s wrapped hands wouldn’t allow him to hold a plate, though he didn’t mention it to us. He just kept them tucked inside his sleeves and let Li Ruolan fill one for him. Li took his time, arranging the food so neatly it could’ve posed for a still life. Luckily that painting would’ve been called “assassination,” because the deadly snail definitely took a starring role.

We all sat on the benches to eat, as if we were at some bizarre family reunion. If Romeo and Juliet had lived to bear offspring, I imagined this was how the Capulets and Montagues would’ve behaved at the kid’s first birthday party. Nobody even tried to converse. Our side watched theirs from the corners of our eyes, feeling slightly grossed out that Li Ruolan fed Lung every single bite he ate, and worried that Li seemed to taste everything first.

Li had the snail on his fork.

I picked up a tiny biscuit I’d doused with butter and honey and popped the whole thing in my mouth.Like that, you kiss up , I thought.Shove that mollusk in your boss’s mouth and let’s get it on!

Cassandra walked in and Li’s fork hit the plate.

Arrghh!

Lung had been eyeing the escargot eagerly. Now he looked at Cassandra. A new hunger lit his eyes, one that had nothing to do with snails. And I instantly understood why the obsession with psychics. He wanted her blood. Sometimes vamps get fixated like that. They crave a particular type. Teenaged girls. Druids. Canadians. Feeding on one specific class gives them such a spectacular rush it becomes an addiction. When that happens they tend to be real hard to stop.

Li started to get up, maybe to introduce himself, but Lung forced him back down. The fact that he’d pulled his hand from its cocoon made me realize just how little he cared about witnesses at this moment.

I began to get a little cross-eyed, watching Li retrieve the escargot fork while Lung stalked Cassandra with unblinking eyes. She went to the far side of the buffet table, so that she faced us as she spooned a few goodies onto her plate.

Li’s fork moved toward Lung’s mouth.

Lung stood up.

Pengfei put a hand to his robes and murmured something in Chinese. She looked more annoyed than nervous.

Vayl and I tensed, ready to spring. Behind us, Cole and Bergman put their plates down. Behind them, the tent flap flew open and Preston strode inside.

“Cassandra!” he called. “I hoped you’d still be here.” His expression, which had been open and friendly, began to lock down as he took in his surroundings. After a swift recon his gaze returned to her, his right hand moving slowly to his back. “Is everything okay?”

I could see the slow dawn of horror rounding out her eyes, nailing her feet to the floor. She tried to nod, but her head jerked to the side instead. Movement from our guests pulled my attention away from her.

Li had put the snail in his own mouth. I watched him swallow with a strange sense of distance, as if I were three hundred miles away, looking through the lens of a telescope. And in my mind, one word began to rotate around and around . . .

Un-frigging-believable.

Pengfei pulled harder on Lung’s robes, trying to break his concentration, make him look at her. But the dragon was intent on his prey.

He leaped onstage without warning, closing the distance between them so fast Cassandra didn’t even have time to scream. He’d just reached the table when Preston called out sternly, “Stop, or I’ll shoot!”

I spared him a quick glance. He’d pulled his Kimber .45, all right, and if we good guys didn’t stay low we might catch some of his lead.

“Preston!” Cassandra screamed.

Lung had turned on the SWAT man, his mouth just finishing its transformation into a muzzle. Knowing what came next, I ran at Preston and tackled him, driving us both to the ground just as Lung let loose with a massive jet of flame. Heat poured over the top of us, singeing but not searing.

I yanked up my skirt and grabbed my .38. I’d have to be damn close for a lethal shot, but it was better than nothing. I craned my neck, trying to see if Lung had another dose coming, but he’d turned back to Cassandra. Only she’d disappeared.

As he stood, momentarily baffled, both Vayl and Pengfei reached the stage. At the same time Bergman and Cole had each grabbed one of the fire extinguishers sitting in the back corners of the tent and headed toward the middle, where several benches were burning.

Smoke began to drift through the tent, making my eyes water. I looked for Li and saw him diving out the back way. Apparently he had no interest in fire or blood-hungry dragons.

On the stage, Vayl reached Lung just as he tipped the table over backward with a spectacular crash, revealing Cassandra crouching underneath. But she’d gone into hiding armed with a knife, which she drove toward Lung’s groin with desperate speed.

As I reached the stage stairs Vayl’s power rushed through the room, dropping the temperature by forty degrees. Frost coated every surface. Though being Sensitive gave me something of a resistance to vampiric powers, I still felt like I’d been ice fishing for an hour without a coat.

The back of Lung’s robe ripped open, giving me an excellent view of those launchable spines. I feared Vayl would get a chest full, standing right behind Lung as he was, but ice had formed around the base of the spines, preventing their release.

Cassandra’s knife didn’t penetrate, but the blunt force caused Lung to roar in pain as it struck. At the same time, Vayl wrapped his arm around Lung’s neck and pulled him backward. I didn’t think he had a plan beyond getting him away from Cassandra.

A spurt of flame from Lung’s muzzle caught the top of the tent. Fire erupted on the canvas and licked its way in every direction. I heard Preston on the phone as he came closer, moving as if every one of his joints had frozen, calling for fire trucks, police, ambulance, the works. He climbed up on the stage beside me, helped me pull Cassandra to her feet and hustle her toward the back of the tent.

I stopped, trained my .38 on Pengfei. She was yelling at Lung in Chinese as she pulled two throwing stars from her pockets. I shot her as she wound up and she lurched sideways. She still managed to throw one, hitting Vayl in the thigh. It staggered him enough to weaken his hold on Lung, who tore away and grabbed Pengfei.

By now flames engulfed the entire tent roof. At any moment it would fall and then we’d be some crispy critters. Cole and Bergman backed toward the front exit yelling, “Get out! Get out!” I couldn’t see Preston and Cassandra, which probably meant they’d already left.

I ran to Vayl, who had jerked the throwing star out of his leg. Blood spurted from the wound in steady bursts, soaking his pants and leaving a solid trail as I pulled him backstage and out of the tent. Cole and Bergman waited for us there, Bergman holding the RV keys in his hand.

“Help me with him,” I told Cole as I led Vayl toward the seawall. Without a word, Cole put a shoulder under Vayl’s arm. My concern deepened when Vayl allowed him to help.

“Okay if I move the RV?” Bergman asked.

“As soon as you bring us the first-aid kit.”

That job done, Bergman drove our temporary headquarters out of the fire’s reach, as Cole and I worked to get the bleeding under control. When the first step is yanking a belt around your patient’s thigh, the project is not going well.

“In all your long life, didn’t anyone ever once tell you not to pull out something after it had been stuck into you?” I hissed as Cole tugged the belt tight and I laid on the gauze.

Vayl didn’t reply, though I could feel his leg stiffen under my hand. I thought it was a reaction to physical pain until Cole said, “Jaz, maybe you shouldn’t yell at the bleeding guy who just pulled crazy dragon dude off our psychic friend.”

“Oh my God.” I looked from Vayl to Cole and back again. “I’ve become my mother. Quick, look, have I developed bitchy naggy lines beside my mouth?” I turned my head from side to side so they could see better.

“I have lived long enough to be able to tell the difference between genuine concern and petty complaints,” Vayl said. He leaned his forehead against mine. “Now, calm down. This bleeding is simply a result of refusing to hunt. There is a quality in the blood of living donors that seems to go missing once it is packaged. Jasmine, I will recover, much sooner than any human could.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “And it was worth the wound to see the worry on your face.”

When the belt finally came off and the gauze stayed white, the three of us sat side by side on the walk, our backs to the wall, watching the firemen pour the last of their water on the smoking remains of our tent. What a disaster. But it could’ve been much worse.

Cassandra came to join us. Between the smoke and the frost, her outfit had wilted into rags. I glanced down at my own costume. Yup, I resembled one of those poor souls who’ve been dug out of earthquake rubble. But while I felt like part of me still remained pinned under a refrigerator, Cassandra looked like her fairy godmother had just told her she was about to score a new ball gown and some glass slippers.

“The tent is a complete loss,” she announced cheerfully. “Nothing standing nearby was damaged though. I couldn’t believe how fast the firemen got there. Jericho said they are some of the best in the state.”

“Who is Jericho?” asked Vayl wearily.

“The SWAT man,” Cassandra said. “Jericho Preston.”

I held up my hand so Cassandra and I could exchange hi fives.

“What are we celebrating?” Cole asked.

“Cassandra’s vision went up with those flames tonight,” I told him. “Which means she and Preston may be an item after all.”

He immediately went to his knees in front of her. With both hands over his heart he said, “Please, my beauty, say it isn’t so. Have you given your heart to another?”

“You are so full of it,” she said, but she laughed as he got to his feet.

“I don’t know about you guys,” he said, “but surviving arson gives me the munchies. What do you say we hit the fridge? You look like you could use a pick-me-up, Vayl.”

Vayl nodded. “But first, a shower,” he said.

“Not if I beat you to it,” said Cole, sizing him up. “And tonight, I think I can.”

I said, “We all need to get cleaned up, and I’m betting the RV’s water heater won’t be able to handle the traffic.” I thought of the hotel key, hidden in my weapons case, and suddenly my crazy move showed a bright side. “I’m getting a hotel room. That way I can have a long, hot shower while you guys are doing your three-minute shifts.”

“That sounds wonderful,” said Cassandra. “Can I come?”

I hesitated. Now I would either have to reveal my strange actions to her or pull some elaborate scam to make her think I was booking a room I’d already rented. You know what? Screw it. All the woman had to do was touch me and she’d know the whole story. “Absolutely. Let’s go get our things.”

Cassandra helped me to my feet. “Oh.” I looked down at Vayl. “Will you be okay for an hour or so?”

He nodded, looking strangely stunned. As Cassandra and I walked away I heard Cole say, “What just happened?”

And Vayl replied, “We have been outsmarted. Just be glad they are on our side.”

CHAPTERNINETEEN

Cassandra insisted that I shower first since it was my idea, my room, and my weird daydream that had led to the whole setup in the first place.

“You do understand this whole issue centers around your relationship with Matt, don’t you?” she’d asked when I explained how I’d ended up with a key card.

I nodded.

“I just wish Gregory hadn’t left when he did. I’m sure he could’ve helped. Maybe we should call him.”

“I’ve thought of somebody else I can talk to,” I said and we left it at that.

I don’t much mind grime because of that squeaky-clean feeling you get from the shower afterward. I sat on the bed, flipping through the channels, feeling like I could star in an Ivory soap commercial when I heard a knock on the door.

Probably Cole with that have-mercy look on his face, here to beg some hot water time. I opened the door.

David stood in the doorway, dressed to kill in his navy blue body armor. “Jasmine, they’re coming!”

“How did they find us?” I whispered as a little guy galloped through my mind on a sweat-soaked horse screaming, “The vampires are coming! The vampires are coming!”

“Maybe Matt told them.”

I punched him in the arm. Hard. “Matt would never betray us.”

Dave’s look said he thought otherwise, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

I threw on my shoulder holster and strapped it tight while he monitored the hall.

Clear, he signaled.

I inched into the hall beside him. Light yellow walls. Burgundy carpet with a large floral print. Gold fixtures. Sweet, middle-class feel that somehow tripled the horror. All we needed was thePsycho soundtrack and we could just skip straight to the funny farm.

Dave jabbed my shoulder. “Pull yourself together!” he hissed. Leave it to a twin to know just when you’re about to flip out.

You couldn’t see the elevator from our vantage point, but the stairs were just two doors to our left. We were only on the second floor. It wouldn’t take long for us to get to the lobby. To reach the sleek, black motorcycles waiting for us outside. That was, if we were lucky. We weren’t.

The stair doorway flew open and at least a dozen human guardians streamed through. Dave sprayed the crowd with his M4. Maybe six dropped. The rest pulled back, giving us space to turn and run.

We raced down the hallway, trading looks of alarm as the elevator rang that it had reached our floor. Out of the alcove in which it sat strolled Jesse and Matt, looking unnaturally beautiful, uncharacteristically cruel. Blood streamed down their necks, but they hardly seemed to notice as they advanced on us.

“You bitch!” David screamed at me. “You let them die!”

The words tore into me with the force of a grenade. “No!” I cried. “They could’ve lived. They could’ve been here with us!”

“Now, why would we want to do that?” asked Matt, smiling widely, his new fangs tipped with the blood of his own lips.

Rage rose in me, sudden and all-consuming. It burned in my mouth and at my fingertips. Part of me thought it amazing my hair didn’t burst into flames. “You stupid FUCK!” I screamed at him. “Youturned , you stupid, cowardly FUCK!” I ran at him, a juggernaut of wrath with only one goal: mow that son of a bitch over and get the hell out of Dodge.

I hit him so hard I thought my heart would burst. He fell flat, carrying Jesse down with him. David was still screaming behind me, garbled, angry words I heard but couldn’t translate. I yelled back at him, “Come on! Come on!Come On !”

A large window marked the end of the hall. I raced toward it like a dragster, hit it feet first and flew through, covering my face so the shards only cut my legs, arms, and shoulders. A small price to pay for freedom. I hit the ground with soft knees, rolling like that poor downhiller who missed his gate in the last Olympics and damn near fell off the mountain. Quickly regaining my feet, I reached the edge of the parking lot before he caught me.

I turned, snarling like a cornered badger. It was Vayl. He let go of me, holding both hands up, as if I needed to know he went unarmed.

“You went to the hotel,” he said, “to shower. I should not have let you go unguarded. I should have known you might fall asleep. Cirilai warned me of your danger.” His eyes filled with tears as he took in the damage I’d done. I barely heard him say the next words, and maybe they only registered because I was so shocked to hear him swear. “Bloody fucking hell, look what I have allowed you to do.”

I began to hurt, all over. A wave of weakness washed over me. “Vayl? I don’t feel so good.” I looked down at myself. Blood and glass covered me in fairly equal doses. A particularly large shard of window stuck out of my right thigh. “That’s definitely going to need stitches,” I murmured. Then I passed out.

CHAPTERTWENTY

The next two hours drifted past like a slow boat through zombieland. Mostly I just stared. I did assure a concerned and quite humorless Dr. Darryl that I wasn’t suicidal and he wouldn’t be seeing me again this week. I agreed to see a sleep disorder specialist, and wasn’t even surprised such a thing existed. But when Vayl and I walked out of the emergency room, I threw the appointment card in the trash can.

“Why did you do that?” he demanded.

“This is for three weeks from now. No way am I going to survive these nightmares that long.”

We took a cab back to the hotel. I sat outside while Vayl dealt with the desk clerk. It was all very civil. They even shook hands at the end, though I wished there had been yelling. If she’d been pissed that I’d broken her window I wouldn’t have felt so mental.

After assuring him I could handle the walk back to the RV, I found myself wishing I’d let Vayl carry me. It might’ve lessened his guilt, which currently could’ve powered Vatican City for a week. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. I mean, he hadn’t even been there. But he felt like he should’ve. It was thatsverhamin thing. I knew it without even asking. And guilt, well, it never plays fair.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “We could get sandwiches.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Cold?”

“Not really.”

“Tired?”

“A little.”

“You should sleep,” he said. He banged his cane against the ground. “Never mind.” His eyes raked my bandaged arms. Moved down to my leg.

“It doesn’t hurt,” I told him.

“But it will.” Yup, soon the meds would wear off and I’d be one hugeouch .

What to say? “I forgive you.”That sounds arrogant . “It could’ve happened to anyone.”Obviously . “It’s my problem.”Not unless I want to be alone forever. Some words must exist, though, to thaw that frozen expression on Vayl’s face, the one hiding that massive feeling ofI failed to protect you .

“You definitely owe me one,” I said.

“What?”

I touched his arm, stopped him so I could give him a long, frank look. “I’m gonna want some payback is all.” I grinned. “And with me, you know payback will be a bitch.”

He threw back his head and barked out a laugh that sounded ferocious and relieved at the same time. “I have no doubt about that. So, do you have any first requests?”

“Actually, yeah, I do. Could you clear something up for me?”

“I can try.”

“Just how many gold mines did you win playing poker?”

Minor lift of the eyebrow. “Have you been gossiping with the office staff again?”

“Just answer the question, mister.”

“One. I bought the other two about ten years later.”

“Oh.” I thought a minute. “You’re definitely the only person I’ve ever known who owns three gold mines.”

“Would you like to visit them with me someday?”

I think my toes are actually curling at the possibilities that question raises. “Yeah, I guess I would.”

His eyes lit. “Did you just agree to go on a vacation with me?”

Yipes! Why do I keep speaking before engaging my brain?“Um, well, technically, I believe I may have. But at a date to be named much later. And when you wear me down to the point where I do finally contact my travel agent, we’ll probably have to combine it with business so I don’t totally freak on you like I’m about to do now, so let’s change the subject, okay?”

The dimple made an appearance as he nodded. But all he said was “So what do you want to do with the rest of the night?”

“Work.”

“Are you certain?”

Are you kidding? I just stirred up every disturbing feeling I have for you and dumped it on your plate after jumping out of a second-story window! If I don’t work I’ll go bonkers!“Oh yeah.”

Bergman met us at the RV door. He didn’t ask how I was feeling. It wasn’t his way, but it still kind of ticked me off. I would’ve checked on him. “Would you guys get in here? I’ve got stuff to show you!” As we followed him inside he said, “I recorded all this earlier.

“Jasmine!” Cassandra jumped off Mary-Kate and came running to me. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry. I had no idea you would fall asleep. I’ve been beside myself!”

Cole wandered in from the kitchen. “She actually has been beside herself. Literally, she’s been pacing back and forth so much I think she’s met herself coming and going.”

“Jaz is fine,” said Bergman. “Look at her. It’s obvious they took good care of her and she’ll be okay or they wouldn’t have released her. Now can we all take a look at this?”

“Oh my God,” I said as my eyes tracked to the living area where dirty footprints led from where the carpet began at the kitchen to where it stopped at the cab. “Look at all those stains! Does anybody know how to get that out? I don’t.” I reached inside my jacket, wrapped my fingers around the deck of cards I’d tucked there. Just touching them made me feel a little better. But when I thought of Pete’s reaction to those footprints I badly needed to shuffle. Could you get fired for losing your security deposit?

“I will call a carpet cleaner in the morning,” said Cassandra. “That should come out easily.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

Okay . . . go ahead and breathe, Jaz. I pulled my hand out of my jacket and let it drop to my side.

Bergman lined us up behind the counter that edged the banquette, Cole next to the wall, then Vayl, me, and Cassandra with Bergman nearest the door. “Everybody take a look, would you?” he begged, pointing at the middle frame on the monitor. The picture he called our attention to showed Lung, Pengfei, and Li stepping onto the back of the yacht from a small blue and white speedboat. They looked like they’d been dragged through a garbage dump.

They mounted the ladders to the middle level, where they’d staged the party/massacre the night before. Since then several blue-cushioned deck chairs had been set out, forming four different conversation areas, one of which included the bar. They walked straight through this area into the lounge, each choosing a different couch to collapse on. Pengfei had been chattering away in Chinese the whole time, her voice getting louder and angrier as the minutes passed. Her bullet wound had already closed.

“What’s she saying?” I asked Cole. He leaned both elbows on the counter, watching the screen with interest.

“She’s obviously irate. She’s calling Lung and Li all kinds of names, Lung for losing control, Li for running.” He listened awhile longer. “She’s telling them there’s a huge difference between slaying a few Chinese rebels and killing random Americans. They were supposed to stick to the plan. She’s mad the cops got involved because it jeopardizes everything she’s been working for.”

He looked at me in amazement. “She’sin charge. She’s just using Lung as a figurehead because the Chinese would never respect or fear a woman the way she needs them to.”

I watched Pengfei with new interest as she rose from the couch and began to pace around the room, first reading Li the riot act, then moving on to Lung. When he talked back to her she gave him a slap that rocked his head back hard enough to make it hit the wall.

“I had to kill the Seer!” Cole translated for Lung, who was rubbing his head. “I could see it in her eyes. She had already had a vision of me, and I could not allow her to repeat the prophecy.”

“What prophecy?” demanded Pengfei.

Lung’s face squeezed tight. “The one about the white dragon,” he whispered.

“Ach, white dragon, white dragon. You are sick, obsessed, crazed with being defeated by this ridiculous white dragon! Why do you let one simple monk’s prophecy haunt you after five hundred years, tell me? Did I not kill him thoroughly enough for you?” Pengfei asked harshly.

Lung looked down at his knees and nodded.

“Did I not save you from the boiling pot and nurse you back to health?”

Another bob of the head.

“Then remember to whom you owe fealty and keep your claws sheathed until I order you otherwise!” she screeched.

He didn’t speak to her again.

“So Lung is superstitious enough to jeopardize their entire setup over a five-hundred-year-old prophecy, and Pengfei is our real target,” I said. “Does that about sum it up?”

“Not quite,” said Vayl. “Samos still remains part of the picture. We cannot discount his influence even if we cannot see him.”

“We still need to get my armor back,” Bergman said fearfully, as if we would consider leaving his baby behind.

“Yes, of course,” said Vayl. “Unfortunately it will not be coming off Lung tonight.” He gave Bergman a tired smile. “Li ate the snail.”

“I saw.” Bergman’s shoulders slumped. “I never thought about Lung having a food taster. Who does that anymore?”

“People who’ve been around a lot longer than you and me,” I told him.

“There is a silver lining,” said Cassandra. “I recognized Li. He sleeps in one of the rooms with a camera, so you’ll still be able to see if the pill works as you designed it to.”

We all looked at her.

“Cassandra?” I asked. “Is this you? Looking on the bright side?”

“Go Jericho,” Cole murmured.

“Uh-oh.” Bergman’s comment brought our eyes back to the TV. Pengfei had worked herself into a real tizzy by now. She leaned into Li’s face, screaming, spraying spit, her fangs in clear view as her lips drew back in a furious snarl. Suddenly she pounced. Being more of a runner than a fighter, Li put up only token resistance as she buried her teeth in his throat. At the same time her claws sank into his chest and within moments he began to seize. Her strength alone kept him sitting upright as she bled him, her nails stabbing into him repeatedly, piercing every organ she could reach.

He lived a long time. And we stood, horrified spectators as she tortured him while Lung looked on, quietly waiting for her to finish. Finally she tore his chest open and pulled his heart out, reducing the gore to a dusting of ash and a puff of smoke. It reminded me so much of the reaver’s grisly work that I wondered if there was some connection. Could she have been one? Known one?

“Sorry, Bergman.” Cole clapped him on the back. “Guess you don’t get to see the pill work after all.” He was trying for that I’m-a-normal-guy tone, but the undertone said,I didn’t want to see that, and now that I have, I’ll never forget it. This sucks!

I watched him, pressing my lips together so I wouldn’t yell at him for signing onto this insanity in the first place. Idiot. Now he’d never be the same.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

As the violence on the TV screen dissipated we all moved away from the counter, each looking for a way to insert some sense of normality into our atmosphere. Cole and Bergman set up a game of chess at the table. Cassandra spent some time digging in her purse, an olive-green, bead-covered monstrosity, before emerging with a book of crossword puzzles. I opened the refrigerator. What did I expect to see? Eggs? Bacon? There they stood in a line, just as the five of us had at the counter. Clear plastic bags full of blood. I leaned in. Did Vayl prefer a certain brand? O Positive? Plasma Lite?

“Looking for something?” asked Vayl quietly.

I jumped, banging my head against the rim of the door.OW! I straightened up, rubbing my sore skull. “Sometimes a girl just wants some milk and cookies,” I said. And not because she’s been stitched shut for the second time by a doctor who’s too honest about how it hurts him to see scars on beautiful women.

“Is your head all right?” he asked.

What kind of question is that? It’s attached, isn’t it? Otherwise—too damn personal, if you ask me. Which you just did!“It’s fine.”

“Let me see.”

“No.”

Slanting of the eyebrows. Translation—now you’re just being stupid stubborn. “Come, let me take a look.”

“Go on, Jaz,” said Cole as he took Bergman’s rook with his bishop. “You could have a concussion or something.”

Vayl reached for my head. “I’m fine!” I snapped as I jerked back, banging it into the freezer door.

“Okay, now I’m not,” I said, rubbing both sore spots. But suddenly I was. I began to grin. “Vayl, I’ve got it.”

Concern poured from his eyes. “What is it, a migraine?”

“Would you stop worrying? It’s going to make you crazy!” I skirted him and went to the guys at the table. “Bergman, I need to watch the footage of Pengfei lecturing Lung and Li again.”

“Can it wait a sec? It’s my move.”

I grabbed his queen, slid her eight spaces forward, and told Cole, “Checkmate.”

He frowned at the board as Bergman pulled his laptop off the seat beside him. “Looks like my schedule just opened up,” he said with a smirk. As he powered up the computer he told me, “If you want to see it on the TV it’ll take some time to find the spot on the DVD. But if you want to watch it straight from here, I can have it up in less than a minute.”

“The sooner the better,” I said.

We all crowded into the banquette to watch the recording of Pengfei’s hissy fit. When it had played out I said, “Did anybody see it?”

Vayl began to nod, the look of dawning comprehension making him seem younger. Less burdened. He said, “When she slaps him his armor does not react.”

“Exactly!” I said. “Look! Scales don’t run up his face like they did when he was threatened last night.”

“That’s interesting,” said Cassandra. “But how does it help us?”

“That’s how we get past his defenses. By making him think I’m Pengfei. We’ll have to take her out first, but”—I shrugged—“that was going to happen anyway.”

I could tell the idea intrigued Vayl, but the risk to me took him so far out of his comfort zone that he had to think it over. He slid out of the banquette and went to retrieve his cane from the bedroom. I could hear him muttering all the way there and back, though he stopped talking before I could do any actual eavesdropping. I would’ve told him only crazy people talk to themselves, but I was in no position to judge.

Cole also got up. He went to the fridge. And as he poured himself a mug of orange soda he said, “I don’t see how we can pull that off, Jaz. You’re about two inches too tall, for one thing.”

“Plus you can’t speak Chinese,” added Bergman. “And even if you stuck with English, you couldn’t manage an accent without sounding like some idiot redneck making fun of all Asians everywhere.”

“He’s right about the accents,” I told Cassandra regretfully. “I can’t even do that nasal Chicago twang, and my dad lives there.”

“Well, I can’t help you with sounding Chinese, but looking the part could be easier than you think. What about some sort of disguise spell?” she asked.

I felt Bergman shiver, as if he’d brushed up against a low-voltage electric fence. Keeping my face turned well away from him I said, “Generally I stick with the old-school method, but I’m willing to try it. Can you do something like that?”

“Maybe. But—”

“What? No! You’re a psychic,” Bergman told her, as if she’d suddenly developed Alzheimer’s. He spoke so loudly I wanted to stick my fingers in my ears. “You have visions,” he insisted. “You don’t do spells. That’s for witches. And wizards. And, and”—he noticed we were all looking at him funny—“those other oogly boogly types.” He wiggled his fingers to emphasize his point.

I shook my head. “Bergman, I kid you not, if you don’t get your head into the twenty-first century I am going to take you out behind the woodshed and tan your hide.”

“What?”

Cassandra reached over me and flicked Bergman on the shoulder to get his attention. “A bomb is a powerful weapon, yes?”

“Of course.”

“So not just anybody can build one.”

“Well . . .”

“I could not get on the Internet, find a good plan, and by the end of the day construct myself an explosive device, could I?”

“Yeah . . . but it’s not a fair comparison.”

“Why not?”

“They’re two entirely different things.”

Cassandra leaned forward. “They’re both tools used as a means to an end.”

“The philosophy behind them is light-years apart.”

They were nearly nose to nose now, not a comfortable position for me, since I sat between them. “Bergman,” said Cassandra, “I could build a bomb if I wanted to, although it would help if I had an interest in science. And if you had a bent toward magic, which by the way youdo , you could cast a spell.”

He recoiled so fast you’d have thought she spat in his face. I held up my hand. “Stop,” I told him. “I know you’re about to say something I’ll regret, so don’t even go there.”

“But—”

“Bergman, I love you like a brother and I respect your right to believe whatever you want to believe. But you can’t be on this team if you offend somebody every time you open your mouth.”

He opened his mouth. Then he shut it again. “Excellent choice,” I said. I stared at him for a second longer, trying to see how deeply this magic thing disturbed him, but he’d barred the gate. So I said, “Now, Cassandra, about this spell . . .”

“I’m not sure it would work, after all,” she told me. “It would only affect your looks. Your voice would remain the same.”

“Well, crap.”

We sat in silence for a while, all of us staring at one monitor or another, hoping for inspiration to come give us a big kiss on the forehead. Instead something cracked against the side of the RV.

Bergman ducked, as if some two-hundred-pound jock had just thrown a Frisbee at his head. “What was that?”

Cassandra swept aside the curtains. “It’s too dark outside to tell.”

“Close the curtains!” we all yelled. Her hand jerked back like the cloth had grown teeth and snapped at her.

The cracking sound came again, two, three, four more times. By now Bergman was practically under the table. He motioned for Cassandra to join him. “Get down!” he ordered Cole. “That reaver might be back for Jaz!”

“I’m checking out the bedroom monitor,” said Cole. Bergman and Cassandra, thinking that was a bright idea, followed him to the back of the RV to see what the security cameras had picked up. Vayl and I preferred the direct approach.

He’d already stepped out the door. I shadowed him, drawing Grief, activating my night vision, snapping the band on my watch to shield the sounds of my movements. Vayl motioned for me to skirt the back of the RV since he’d chosen the frontal approach. Another round of cracking sounds accompanied me, along with hurried whispering.

Though my instincts told me our attacker wasn’t a reaver, I still rounded the corner carefully. I sighted my quarry almost immediately. Just as quickly I pointed Grief at the sky and thumbed the safety. “Kids,” I muttered with disgust.

They stood about twenty feet away in the pool of light provided by the barbecue cook-off competitors. They wore jeans, plaid button-down shirts, and tennis shoes. They’d combed their short hair neatly to one side. Not the types I would expect to catch heaving eggs from the white eighteen-pack they’d set on the green picnic table between them. However, I did recognize them. They were the boys I’d picked to go AWOL from theother -hating picketers. But to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl till they puked. Not to plaster our pullouts with cooking essentials.

I holstered Grief and strode forward, preparing to grab them by their collars and shake them until they pleaded for mercy. Vayl had other ideas.

The bottom half of his cane shot through the air and impaled the carton. Eggs flew everywhere. I almost laughed when the boys jumped, yelped, and darted off into the night. Well, they tried.

“Stop,” Vayl ordered. So, of course, they did. “Be seated.” They parked it on the benches. “Tell me your names and ages.”

The kid on the left, who’d apparently chosen to fight his acne battles with a steady diet of donuts and Doritos said, “James Velestor. Fifteen.”

The one on the right, a brown-haired twig whose glasses kept slipping toward his braces, muttered something. “I cannot hear you!” Vayl barked.

“Aaron Spizter, fourteen.”

“Who brought you here?”

The boys looked at each other and smirked. I stepped forward. “Come on, Vayl, this would be a lot more fun if you’d let me bang their heads together a few times.”

That sobered them up. James looked up at me, both chins shaking slightly as he demanded, “Why do you hang withothers like that psychic? She’s an abomination in the eyes of God, you know.”

Aaron piped up, speaking more to his buddy than to me. “What aboutthis freak?” he said, jerking a thumb toward Vayl. “I mean, look how it’s working its mind control on us right now!”

“You sound like a couple of brainwashed little ruffians to me,” I told them in my let’s-read-a-nursery-rhyme voice. “I’m guessing Mommy and Daddy have made it clear to you that the human race is by far superior to anyother , and therefore you should feel free to damage their property and treat them like dirt every chance you get. I’m guessing they went so far as to buy you the eggs and give you directions to our place. Am I right?” I leaned over and looked hard into the brats’ faces. They couldn’t believe how I’d figured them out on such short acquaintance.

“Where are they?” Vayl asked grimly. When he didn’t get an immediate reply he bellowed, “Where?”

James and Aaron both pointed shaking fingers over their shoulders. Eventually we deduced that their fathers were parked in the hate-crimes van near the marina. Vayl put his dripping sheath back where it belonged and we escorted the boys, along with their eggs, to the real scene of the crime.

Generally Vayl’s power feels like a calm arctic ocean, mystic blue with countless tiny waves on top and an icy cold current running beneath. But as we followed the boys, I decided any decent sailor with my increased Sensitivity would agree the bottom had just dropped out of the barometer and we were in for a helluva blow.

“Um, Vayl? Are you sensing how I’m feeling right now?” I murmured. Usually I want him to stay clear of my emotions. Like continents away. But at the moment . . .

“No.”

“Well, pay attention.”

I allowed myself a small sigh of relief to see not a spark of red in his eyes when they met mine. After a moment he asked, “Why are you concerned for me?”

“Because I know what I do whenI’m too pissed off to think straight. And the aftermath is never pretty. So I’m thinking maybe you should not follow your first instincts when we speak to these boys’ fathers, because tearing their arms off and beating them over the heads with them is not going to solve the ultimate problem.”

“Huh.”

Oh God, he was even beginning to sound like me.

However, he did not pull a typical Jaz move when we arrived at the van. He walked over to the driver’s side as the boys took refuge within and stood patiently until the man rolled down his window. I took my place by the passenger—a guy with the pasty, sagging features of the perennial couch squatter.

“What do you want?” demanded the driver. Maybe he felt safe because of his size. He certainly filled out his powder-blue blazer, and if he had a neck, it was squatting behind his thin black tie.

“I want to know why you felt it appropriate to send your son to damage my property,” Vayl said in his I’m-about-to-lose-it voice. It can be deceiving to those who don’t know him because it’s so soft. Almost unassuming. But when people get next to it, and ignore it, generally they can count the remainder of their lives in breaths.

Since the driver was a stranger to Vayl’s more dangerous moods, I expected him to make up some bullshit story about how one of the boys had lost his wallet and they’d just driven them back to the festival so they could try to find it. At nearly three a.m. On a Monday morning. Maybe he knew how lame that was going to sound, though, because he said, “Our boys are doing God’s work and we are proud of them. Psychics are no more than witches, and they are an affront against God.”

“An affront,” my fella agreed.

“What’s your name, fella?” I asked him.

“George Velestor,” he said.

“You ever formed an original thought in your life, George?”

He looked at the driver.

“Apparently not.” I kept talking because Vayl’s power had spiked, and I figured if I didn’t do something quick, we’d soon be dealing with a van full of Popsicle people. “What’s your name, driver?”

His glance took in my hair, boobs, eyes, boobs, and then eyes again. I wondered how many people would miss him if he quietly disappeared. “My name’s Dale Spizter, ma’am.”

“You married, Dale?”

“Sure am.”

“Then keep your damn eyes off my chest.”

His head jerked away and I thought I heard the boys snicker. Vayl opened the door. “What are you doing?” demanded Dale.

“Get out.”

“I will not.”

Vayl’s voice rang with cold, hard power. “The four of you will exit this vehicle and precede us back to the RV.” His face might’ve resembled a mask to our guests, but I could see the muscles in his jaws working, the vein in his forehead throbbing. Not happy signs.

Like good little puppets, they jumped to it. The men, however, looked like they expected to be struck down from above at any moment. They drooped even farther when we reached our destination and mustered up a couple of bowls full of soapy water and some paper towels. Vayl set up the lawn chairs, invited Cassandra outside, and the three of us watched them clean up the mess they’d made. He’d also brought out a flashlight, so she got to point out the spots they’d missed. She found quite a few.

I thought Vayl had taken enough satisfaction from this revenge until he stood and started pacing. I couldn’t take my eyes off that cane, digging deeper and deeper gouges into the ground with every other step.

“We’re done,” said Dale. He dropped his wad of paper towels in the water and rolled the sleeves of his suit coat down.

I stood up. “Fine. Get out.”

“No. I have a few words to say,” he announced.

They always do.

“Dale, maybe we should go,” said George. I liked him better when he was echoing my opinions.

“God has brought us here for a reason, George,” Dale said in that singsong TV-preacher voice that makes my molars ache. “We must uphold our responsibility to hiyum—”

I felt the power winding up in Vayl and suddenly understood where blizzards begin. I also knew clearly why my guy needed anavhar . If he killed these men in front of their sons, beyond the obvious tragic consequences, he’d be doing irreparable damage to his own soul. Both my instinct and a sudden heat from Cirilai told me so.

I strode forward, planting myself firmly between Dale and mysverhamin . “Dale, you are so far out of line that if this was a NASCAR race you’d be in the grass. I’m not going to argue philosophy or religion with you. Think what you think. I really don’t give a crap. But here’s the deal: Standing behind me is a vampire who’s quite capable of icing you like an Alpine ski slope. He is deeply pissed that you’ve insulted his Seer. But she’s a grown-up and he’ll eventually get past that.”

I closed the distance between us because Dale had puffed out his chest and begun rocking from foot to foot, starting his little I-am-the-man dance before I’d even finished. I slammed him hard in the diaphragm with the heel of my hand, backing him up, taking the strut right out of him.

“Listen up, asshole,” I hissed. “Because what I’m about to say may just save your life. My boss here is trying very hard not to rip a great big hole in your throat, but more and more he’s thinking, ‘Why the hell not? Here’s a guy who thinks nothing of sending his son, who should be more precious to him than his own soul, into mortal danger. Aaron will probably be safer if I just kill his father now.’”

I looked at George. “Same goes for you and James, Xerox.”

Aaron came up to me and grabbed my arm. “Please”—his desperate glance went to Vayl—“please don’t kill my dad.”

I told him, “Once a farmer murdered two boys just about your age. Why? Because he was ignorant. Too stupid to ask questions. Too narrow-minded to wonder if maybe things had changed while he was looking the other way. If I’d known the man before that instant, I would’ve killed him. And by killing him, I would’ve saved those boys’ lives.” I stared into Aaron’s eyes. I spent some time on James as well. “Vayl is wondering if he needs to save your lives now, the same way I would’ve saved his sons. Or if you have the brains and the courage to do that for yourselves.”

Aaron and James looked at each other. It was the first time I’ve ever seen a boy grow up. I just wish both of them had.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

As soon as the eggers left our sight I slumped back into my chair, my arms dangling over the side, my feet stretched out in front of me with the toes of my boots pointing straight up at the sky. “So tired,” I muttered.

Vayl brought his chair close to mine and sat down.

“Can I get you something?” Cassandra asked.

“Caffeine,” I said.

She hurried inside.

Cirilai had quieted back down and, for that matter, so had Vayl. “You did well,” he said. “I . . . Sometimes it is harder than others. This year is shaping up to be a bad one. I lost my boys in April and already . . .”

“I know.” He nodded. Though it sucks to have such tragedy in common, it’s nice not to have to talk about how torturous the anniversaries can be. He just knew I’d be there to get him through. And come next November, I had a feeling I might not be the complete wreck I’d been last year.

Cassandra returned, carrying a carafe of Diet Coke. “Original and uplifting,” I told her with a smile. She also brought Bergman.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said.

That’s half your problem!My mouth was fizzy full, so I just nodded and let him continue. “I might be able to come up with something that would make you sound like Pengfei,” he said. “I’ve been working on some instant translator software for a while and if I could . . . Well, let me see what I can do, okay?”

I gulped my drink, thanking my lucky stars it went down the right tube. “Really? I mean, really, really? Bergman, that’s awesome!”

“Well, it’s not a sure thing yet—”

“Dude, if anybody can do it, you can.”

I didn’t realize how much he’d slumped until he straightened up. “Thanks. I guess I’ll get started then.”

“Excellent.”

As soon as Bergman left earshot Vayl said, “I am going to buy you some pom-poms and a short pleated skirt—”

“Hey, if Bergman needs a cheerleader, that’s what he’s getting.”

Vayl tipped his head to one side and smiled wickedly. “I was just thinking perhaps I need a cheerleader as well.”

Cassandra got up. “If that’s where this conversation is headed, I’m leaving.”

“She wants some pom-poms too,” I told Vayl.

“I do not!” Moments later we heard the RV door close behind her too.

“Oh man.” I dropped my head back as far as it would go. “I am so wasted. And you know what’s sad about that?”

“What?”

“I’m the only person I know my age who can say that and not mean too many Fuzzy Navels.”

“Do you need to sleep?”

Hell yeah!“Nope.”

“Do you want to visit David?”

Definitely not. I looked at the wide Texas sky and thought about the golden cord I’d see stretching across it if I gazed up through different eyes. It connected me and my twin, and I could use it as a path to visit him anytime I wanted to have an out-of-body experience. It’s more dangerous than it sounds. But that wasn’t what was stopping me.

I turned my head, let my vision fill with the vampire who’d brought me back from the brink more times than I cared to mention, the last being less than two months before, when the year was new and I feared my grip might have finally slipped for good. I was afraid this trip might take me right back there. I opened my mouth, my lips already burning with the difficulty of the words I knew I had to say. “I feel like I’m finally beginning to heal from what happened back then. It doesn’t seem wise to dredge it all up again. It’s like picking at old wounds. How smart is that?” I asked him.

He did a quick visual inventory of my recent injuries, which were all aching despite the painkillers Dr. Darryl had prescribed. “Perhaps that is the only way they can truly heal,” he suggested. His eyes lifted to mine. I’d never seen such naked honesty in them before. “I would wish that for you.” His eyebrows shot up, as if he’d found something surprising behind some inner door. “Even if it came at my own expense, I would like for you to be whole again. Maybe David can help you find the way.”

I sighed, feeling slightly better, but not nearly enough to make this trip okay with my churning gut or my pounding heart. “I’d better go.”

Vayl sat forward, his presence wrapping around me like a blanket. “I will be right here beside you.”

I nodded my thanks, unable to translate my gratitude for his presence into speech. I wanted to pull into myself like a turtle, as if that could provide some extra protection for the trek ahead. But my stitched leg wouldn’t cooperate. Neither would my chair. In the end I simply closed my eyes and bowed my head.

I still remembered the words Raoul had given me the last time I’d traveled outside my body, when the fate of my country had been at stake. Frankly I preferred those circumstances to these. I murmured them now, concentrating on Dave’s face, his high forehead, stern green eyes, unsmiling lips, and dark brown hair touched with just a hint of red.

I shot from my body like a rocket. I’d forgotten how fast I could move outside physical being, or what a rush flying across time and space with so little to slow me down could be. I followed that yellow streak of lightning right to Dave’s shoulder. And if I’d been a little more corporeal when he turned his head to pull a breath before leaning back down to continue CPR, he’d have literally seen right through me.

The woman who needed his air was one of his, a sun-bitten veteran whose blond ponytail splayed across the dirty floor of the deserted house like a lotus floating on a pond full of scum. A tourniquet had been wound around her mangled thigh and a bloody bandage encased her head. She lay on the ground floor in the corner farthest from a bank of windows. Five guys and a woman wearing desert gear and armed with M4s kept up a steady barrage from those openings. A couple of them had taken damage as well.

I heard more assault weapons, including a SAW, ripping off rounds from upstairs. It looked to me like they’d planned a raid and had either been ambushed or outgunned. Either way, they’d had to pull back to this position. The firing slowed as, one by one, Dave’s unit picked off their targets. He evidently trusted them to do their jobs without direct oversight, because his mind was so elsewhere.

“Come on, Sergeant,” Dave said desperately as he compressed her chest with the heels of his hands. “Come on, Susan. Stay here. Stay with us.”

I had said the same words to Matt, begged him as I wept over his body the night Aidyn Strait had stabbed him to death.

My brain seemed to split. I wanted to scream from the pain of it. At once I hunched in the past, my heart exploding as I called for Matt to return to me. And I stood beside Dave, wishing I had eyes to weep when I saw Susan’s exquisite crystalline soul lift from her body. Like Matt, she had somewhere else she needed to be. And, as my love had left a part of him behind, so did she. The azure jewel that comprised her being spun and split. Nine gems separated from the whole, sought out and found each of her brothers and sisters in arms. Those who shared the room with her paused to gaze at her one last time. And then the main part of her flew up, up into the sun. A-mazing.

“She’s gone, Dave,” I said.

He looked up at me, his green eyes startling against his taut brown skin. I took it as a sign of his utter distress that he wasn’t even surprised to see me. “Son of a bitch! She was our fucking medic!” He wasn’t mad they’d lost their doc. Just that she could’ve maybe saved any of the rest of them if they’d suffered the same injuries. I crouched beside him. The gunfire had almost ceased. The sound of approaching helicopters signaled imminent rescue. In a few minutes they’d land, Dave’s unit would clear out, and life would move on. For now we sat beside Susan’s body, mourning her, yeah, but grieving for the rest of our dead as well. We’d racked up way too many in our lives. Mom and Granny May. Matt and Jesse. The Helsingers.

“Did I tell you I was one of the casualties at the Helsinger massacre?” I asked him. “Aidyn Strait broke my neck.”

“Yeah.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. When I called.”

“When was that?”

“The day Dad told me you were in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember that.”

“You were pretty far out of it. They had you on about as much morphine as you could handle.”

Huh. I wonder what else happened then that I’ve forgotten. Must remember to ask someone I trust. Definitely not Albert.“So you know about Raoul?”

“We’ve met,” he said dryly. He pulled Susan’s jacket closed. Smoothed her hair. “About a month after I joined up I was shot and killed during a live-fire training session,” he told me quietly enough that his men couldn’t hear. “As they tried to resuscitate me, I went to some sort of middle place, though it sure looked like a hotel room outside of Vegas to me.”

Damn. Though he knelt right beside me, my heart still squeezed at the thought of my brother. Dead. No matter how temporary, that state still messed with my mind when it came to family. I realized I’d always expected to go first. Before him. Long before Evie. Even before Albert. And I suppose I had. I’d just returned unexpectedly.

“So Raoul gave you a choice?” I asked, trying to clarify Dave’s experience in my boggled brain.

“Yeah.”

“And you chose to come back. To fight.”

“I’m here.”

“I . . .” Geez this was hard to say. “I’ve been having some problems sleeping. Actually, sleeping’s okay. It’s what I do while I’m asleep that’s not so cool.”

“Like?”

“Jumping out of second-story windows.”

His eyes shot to mine. He looked me over hard this time and, by the way his brows dropped, didn’t appreciate what he saw. He shook his head. “We are damaged goods, Jazzy.”

“I can’t go on like this much longer. But coming here, seeing you lose Susan, at least I’ve figured out my main problem.”

He waited.

I shrugged miserably. “I believe after Matt died, he talked to Raoul just like you and I did. Only he decided not to come back. He didn’t love me enough to stay. Subconsciously I’ve known this for a while and, well, it’s killing me.”

I felt this horrendous wave of grief and anger claw its way up from a pit of agony I hadn’t even acknowledged, like a rich snob who walks past the same starving homeless dude every day, clicking her high heels on the dirty sidewalk in time to the music in her head. I began to sob, my non-stomach feeling as if it had just been kicked with a steel-toed boot. For a while I couldn’t speak. I just stood and cried, while Dave looked on helplessly.

“He stayed while he was alive, Jasmine. You gotta give him that. Even the Bible doesn’t require relationships to last after death. If you’re going to be pissed, aim it at the son of a bitch who murdered him.”

“But Matt’s there and I’m here. What does that say about what we had?” More sobbing. I was like the ghost in the Hogwarts bathroom. Sad, pathetic girl.

“He loved you. You know that. I know that. He just needed to move on.”

“What about whatI needed?”

He shook his head. “I don’t guess you and I were meant for marriage and kids and cable TV. That’s more Evie’s thing.”

“Of course not. But—”

“Jasmine. Honest to God, you could have gone anywhere to cry. Why did you come here?”

That dried me up, as I was sure it was meant to. “You’re the only one I know who’s survived this kind of loss. I thought I could learn from you. You know, before I sleep again.”

Dave regarded me thoughtfully. “You’re a survivor too, Jaz. You just have to accept it.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Like hair waxing, the best way to reenter one’s physical form is quickly and without warning. I greeted myself with a full-body cramp that yanked me to my feet and extracted such a shout I’m sure the Mexicans thought Texas had finally gone and seceded from the Union.

“Jasmine!” Vayl had both arms out, as if he expected me to collapse at any moment.

“I’m okay,” I gasped, leaning over for a second until I was sure I wouldn’t be leaving supper all over the grass.

“You should sit down,” Vayl suggested, pulling my chair right up behind me so all I needed to do was bend my knees. It suddenly seemed like a fine idea. Vayl sat in front of me so our legs were nearly touching.

An eerie calm settled over me. I wasn’t sure what it meant. I might be perched in the eye of a gigantic storm, in which case Vayl should probably run. Or it could be that the waters around me had utterly stilled because no energy existed anywhere in me to move them.

“Did you find what you needed with David?” Vayl asked.

“Kind of. It’s—the dreams—they’re about Matt.”

Vayl’s hands convulsed around his cane, which he’d laid across his lap. It bugged me that he hadn’t cleaned it off yet, that little bits of goo still hung on to tiger heads and backs and tails here and there and dirt soiled the tip. My hands itched to grab it from him and scrub it shiny. “What about Matt?”

“He died.”

It was such an obvious, simple thing to say, I was kind of surprised Vayl didn’t smack my forehead with the palm of his hand. Instead he said carefully, “Matt died terribly.”

“He wasn’t supposed to,” I added.

“No.”

“I thought I’d gotten over it.”

Vayl leaned forward, rolling his cane back so he could rest elbows on his thighs. He clasped his long fingers together. “That would signify an end. You meant to marry the man. You felt a love for him that should have lasted a lifetime. That feeling will not necessarily change just because he is gone. I still love my sons as much today as I did the day they were born. Perhaps the best either of us can hope for is not to get over our pain, but to move past it.”

Yeah,move , I’d figured out that word was key early on.

When I’d lost Matt and my crew, my life as I knew it ended. And time stood still. But I’d discovered ways to force the minute hand to tick the seconds off. The trick, I’d thought, was to keep moving. And yet the nightmares had still caught up to me. Had done everything but slam my head into a brick wall.

In the end, simply moving isn’t enough. Not when all you’re doing is circling the source of your grief. The thing is, when you let that go, what’s left to hold on to?

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

Occasionally just before waking I realize exactly how I look, and I’m generally glad nobody can see me. This morning I knew my mouth gaped like an empty mailbox. Drool dripped down the side of my chin. I’d just finished a prodigious snore and a green cloud of halitosis orbited my head.

I snapped my mouth shut, rubbed my chin on my sleeve, wincing as I opened a barely healed cut on my arm, and opened my eyes. Cassandra was frying bacon, drat her, which explained the drool. Bergman tinkered with both computers on the table. Cole sat with his legs up on Mary-Kate, his eyes drifting from Cassandra to me, apparently deeply entertained by having Jekyll and Hyde in the same general vicinity.

I sat up. Slowly. Between the belly dancing, the fire, the visit to Dave and its aftermath, the night had taken its toll.

“You look like crap!” Cole said merrily. “I like the hair though.” He made a camera frame with his thumbs and forefingers and in the genie voice fromAladdin said, “Now, what does this say to me? Homeless woman? Tornado victim? Britney Spears? I’ve got it! Preschooler who’s misplaced her gum!”

I regarded him balefully. “You’re a morning person, aren’t you?”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“Not if you stop talking.” In a sweeping, dramatic gesture he covered his closed lips with the back of his hand. “Better.” I swung my legs off Ashley and looked at Cassandra.

“How come the breakfast foods?” I asked as I noted eggs scrambling beside a freshly baked tin of cinnamon rolls.

She smiled with anticipation. “Jericho is coming.” I should’ve known. She looked date primed with her hair wound around her head like a crown. She’d chosen her best jewelry and a sheath of a white dress covered with red peppers.

“Does he know this?” I asked.

“He will after you call him.”

Oh, right, I’d told Shao I would talk to him this morning. Of course that was when I had high hopes of eliminating Lung and heading back to E.J.-land.

“Do I have his number?”

Cassandra pushed a business card across the counter toward me along with my phone. I dialed him up.

“This is Preston.”

“Sergeant Preston, this is Jaz Parks. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Well, I’m not extracrispy, thanks to you.”

“I can tell you we’re all pretty relieved to have gotten out of that mess alive, and it was great to have your help. Which is sort of why I’m calling. We were wondering if, uh, before you and your son take off for the zoo, maybe you could come to breakfast. We had some things we’d like to discuss with you.”

“Sure, I’ll be right there.”Click .

I held the phone up and looked at Cassandra. “He hung up. Is that rude, or am I just—?” A knock at the door interrupted me. Bergman closed the laptops, leaped out of his seat, snagged the sheet I’d been sleeping under, and covered the table with it. Then he raced to the bedroom to check whose face would be filling its monitor as Cassandra went to answer. I gave her a wait-a-minute gesture as Cole and I powered down the living room TV and all its related equipment.

“How we doing, Bergman?” I called.

“We’re good to go,” he said as he strolled back into the kitchen.

I nodded for her to open the door. Preston stood on our welcome mat, hands on his hips, only slightly out of breath.

“Where were you?” Cassandra asked.

“Fishing.”

“I don’t see a rod and reel.”

“For evidence,” he explained. “That freaky dude who attacked you last night disappeared. I figure I can put him away for a long time with you all as my witnesses, so I was looking around, trying to figure out where he went off to.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet?” Cassandra said, looking at me with a forced smile. “Jaz, isn’t that sweet?”

“It certainly is.”How many strings did this guy pull to be in this place at this time? “Do you like eggs, Sergeant Preston?”

“Please, call me Jericho.”

So we called him Jericho and he met Cole and Bergman formally, after which we ate. I excused myself for a quick cleanup since I couldn’t stand myself any longer. When I came back Cole raised his eyebrows at my outfit.

I wore my newest purchase, a cobalt-blue blouse with three-quarter-length sleeves and a high, Victorian-style collar that would hide the bite marks if there were any to conceal. There weren’t. But you never knew. I’d been forced to bare my neck to Vayl on our last mission when his blood supply had been tainted. I also wore gray pinstriped dress pants and my black leather jacket, which hid Grief.

I carried my usual assortment of backup weaponry, including the bolo in my right pocket. I slipped my hand into my left pocket, touched the ring that rested there. For the first time I thought,Maybe it doesn’t have to remind me of Matt’s death, and how horribly I still miss him sometimes. Maybe it can help me remember our lives together before that. God we had some great times.

Jericho and Cassandra had settled on Mary-Kate directly opposite Cole, who’d decided, once again, to put his feet up. He looked geared for a beach party in jean shorts and a green Hawaiian shirt covered with palm leaves. Bergman, wearing brown work pants and a T-shirt that saidMETEORS RULE on it, had spun the passenger seat around for himself, so I took the driver’s seat, which also turned to join the crowd.

Vayl and I had not discussed this situation at all, so I really didn’t know how much of our mission he’d be comfortable revealing to Jericho. Therefore I thought it might be a good idea to do a little fishing myself before I revealed all our nifty secrets.

“So what exactly is your role on the SWAT team?” I asked.

“It depends on the situation,” Jericho said. “For instance, if we’re busting in a place to take down a known drug dealer or a black magic marketer, I’m usually the guy swinging the ram. If it’s a standoff, or a hostage situation, I’m one of the snipers.”

That gave me such a phenomenal idea I nearly jumped on Bergman and throttled him with it. But Jericho’s presence forced me to sit very still and wish somebody in the immediate vicinity would rob a bank. Wouldn’t they call SWAT for that?

Jericho’s phone chose that moment to ring, which I thought might be a sign from God. If so, I would gladly attend church at least once this year. At almost the same moment a knock came at our door. Cole went to answer it. He spoke to our visitor, who I couldn’t see from my vantage point, then looked at me with puzzlement. “This guy says where do we want them to put our new tent?”

The question tore me, because Jericho had started barking into his phone, which meant I could bend Bergman’s ear with my new plan. But not only was I beginning to feel sorry for whoever had invited SWAT guy’s anger, I badly wanted to know what he was saying. Luckily Cassandra and Bergman were shamelessly eavesdropping, so I shelved my brilliant idea and joined Cole at the door.

A short, round man wearing a white jumpsuit and a Stetson nodded at me. He spoke around a wad of chewing tobacco that threatened to leap out of his mouth with every other word.

“Good mornin’, little lady,” he said to me. “No need to trouble yourself with this mess. Your man here’s about to take care of it.”

Cole put his arm around me, an outwardly friendly gesture, but actually a warning.Jaz, do not strangle the Elvis wannabe. I looked at the man’s scuffed white cowboy boots. They rested squarely in the middle of Bergman’s zapper mat. Thepfffzzzt button practically blinked at me from its control box, which stood not five feet away. It would be so easy . . .

Come on, Lucille, handle this. Jaz is practically frothing at the mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name or the name of your company,” I said pleasantly.

“Name’s Tom Teller of Tom Teller Tents and Awnings.” Oops, a thin line of tobacco juice dribbled down his chin. He swiped it off with the cuff of his sleeve, leaned sideways, and spat. Problem was, he didn’t lean far enough. A huge, semisolid mass of material hit the zapper mat, which, being a Bergman prototype, turned out to be a tad more sensitive to liquids than originally intended.

After consulting a work order on the clipboard he held, Tom Teller told Cole, “We been hired by Chin Lang Acrobatics to clean up the mess from last night’s fire and erect a new performance tent withaaaAAAhhhh !”

Tom Teller lifted up on both toes, raised his hands in the air, and proceeded to do a remarkable imitation of the ballerina that had once danced in a circle every time I opened my jewelry box the year I was eight. Showing remarkable restraint in that he didn’t burst into laughter, Cole held out a hand while making sure not to touch our visitor. “Dude, are you okay?”

“What the hell was that?” Tom Teller demanded.

“I believe you’ve just been shocked by electric ants,” I told him, jabbing Cole with an elbow when I thought I heard a giggle.

“Are you kidding me? That felt like a damn ’lectricchair !”

“Well, they tell me everything’s bigger in Texas,” I replied, giving him Lucille’s sweetest, fakest smile.

He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow. “I guess I’ve heard that myself. Uh, I just wanted to know if you’d like the new tent in the same place as the old one. Some people got superstitchuns. They don’t want new stuff in the sameaaaAAAhhhh !”

Again with the zappy dance. “Wow,” I said. “No doubt about it, we’re going to have to call an exterminator.” I looked up into a sky so blue it seemed to confirm every story I’d ever heard about heaven.Okay, you win. After the phone call to Jericho and now this, I’m definitely at your service .

Behind me SWAT man blew up. “What the hell do you mean the case is closed? The case has barely started! A woman was assaulted last night! Some lizard face tried to kill a cop!” A moment’s pause. “I don’t give a crap what the governor—” I recognized the sound that followed because I had, in fact, made it myself a couple of times. It was the crack of a cell phone exploding against the wall.

Once again, Lucille Robinson came to the rescue. She smiled graciously at Tom Teller and said, “You know, that spot really worked well traffic-wise, so I think we’ll just keep it. Do you know when the work will be finished?”

He pranced from foot to fried foot, bobbing his head back and forth in an effort to see our furious guest. Cole pressed his mouth to my ear and whispered, “He looks like a constipated turkey.”

My smile went into rictus mode as Tom Teller spat another wad of chew onto the faulty mat.Holy crap, the guy’s going to tase himself into a coma! But again he wouldn’t address me directly.

“We should have it all done by five,” he told Cole.

“Did you hear that, boss?” he asked me brightly. “The tent will be up by five!”

I just wanted the idiot off the mat and to hell with my wounded pride. “Wonderful. Thank you so much.” I slammed the door in his face, and Cole and I helped each other back to the empty couch, where we traded stunned stares with Cassandra. On the one hand we wanted to laugh until we cried. On the other, we wondered just who Jericho meant to annihilate first.

Bergman had rescued the parts of his phone and taken them to the covered table, where he was trying to put them back together again. Jericho badly wanted to tear out the door and cave in somebody’s face, but he kept looking at Cassandra and she kept shaking her head. Uh-huh. No fractured skulls this morning, SWAT man.

“Cole,” I asked, “have we got any pop in the fridge?”

“Yeah, I just bought a case of orange soda yesterday.”

“Perfect.” I stood up. “Jericho, come with me.”

Twenty minutes later Cole returned the sledge to the ring-the-bell-if-you’re-man-enough-game guy, I put the last crushed can in the trash, and Jericho dropped into the chair beside Cassandra, looking nearly as calm as he had when he’d walked through our door. Only Bergman had stayed inside to work and watch the monitors.

Cole came back with fried ice cream for everyone, which we inhaled along with the orange-scented air.

Jericho wagged his finger at me. “That was genius. Where did you come up with the idea?”

“I had to be nice to a sick baby and two sleep-deprived, panicky new parents for three weeks. It was either this”—I waved at the trampled, soda-soaked grass beneath our feet—“or a killing spree through an upscale Indianapolis neighborhood.”

He nodded. “Sound choice.”

“Thanks.”

I took a bathroom break. A necessity, but also an excuse to grab our safe phone from the bedroom. I ignored the way my heart skipped when I opened the door. What I couldn’t avoid was the sudden realization that I’d slept right through my last trip to z-land. No trying to shoot myself in the head. No stepping into traffic or jumping out windows. No dreams at all. Just sweet, deep silence, like the kind Vayl enjoyed every single day.

As I took the phone off the dresser, I considered the black tent that hung over the bed like a huge, bloated bat. I really cared about Vayl. More than I should. Way more than I wanted to. But did I want to be like him? Still pining for what I’d lost two hundred and more years down the line? Somehow that seemed stunted and wrong.

But wasn’t I doing exactly what he was doing? Wasn’t I holding on to Matt as if I thought I’d find him in the fresh-food section at Aldi’s one day, feeling up the grapefruits with that wicked look on his face that always made me laugh? My anger at him made more sense seen that way. Like I felt he’d cheated on me by moving on. And, as a logical progression of that thought, I was being faithful by standing in place.

The buzz started low in my head and grew so loud I banged the palm of my hand against my temple.Not now. I’ve got things to do! But Raoul had his own schedule, and I’d finally learned that when he wanted to talk I’d better listen. I closed my eyes before he grabbed my vision to get my full attention and said, “You rang?”

That enormous voice boomed in my head.TURN IT ONE MORE TIME TOO .

For some reason I twisted the phone in my hand, so if I held it to my ear the receiver would be on top. No, it wouldn’t work that way.Turn it one more time too.

Matt had left me.

TURN IT.

And I had left him.

At the height of our love, we’d let death separate us. Some part of me had never believed it would happen. In fact, at some level I’d despised us both for allowing it. I’d been furious at him for leaving. And I’d hated myself for staying.

NOW THINK.

“What?”

THINK!

Holy crap, Raoul, that’s all I’ve been doing!Thinking about Matt. More than I wanted to. So few people knew him. But they all liked him. Especially Albert. I put the phone to my ear, only mildly surprised I’d already dialed his number.

“Yeah?”

“Albert?”

“What’s up? Everything going okay?”

“I was thinking about Matt today.”

“Me too.”

“Really?”

“What a poker face. Did I ever tell you he bluffed me out of a twenty-dollar pot with a king high? That’s it! And I was sitting there with a pair of tens!”

“No kidding.”

“You know why I liked him though?”

“Not really.”You don’t like anybody hardly.

“Because the day you two got engaged we had a little talk. And he said to me, ‘Colonel Parks, I just want Jaz to be happy. That’s it. It won’t matter where we are, or what we’re doing. If we’re a million miles apart or stuck like glue. As long as she’s happy, I’ll be fine.”

Don’t. Cry.“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Your brother called. He was worried about you.” My dad is a lot like a baseball pitcher. He has a windup that he goes through before he throws his curve. I should’ve recognized the tone in his voice as the windup. But it had been a while, and I was distracted.

“What did he say?”

“He said you were a goddamn mess! Now you listen to me!” he barked. “Shit like this buries you, if you let it! You’re up to your neck in shit, Jasmine. Is that how you want to go down?” He’d pitched it into a full-out roar now, just like he had when I’d walked into the house covered with mud at the tender age of six. Then I’d wanted to cry. Now I wanted to kick him in his battered old knees. Maybe he’d raised me right after all. I’d finally learned to hit that curve.

“No sir.”

“Then get off your ass and do something about it!”

“Yes sir.”

“You nailed that boss of yours yet?”

“What?”

“You obviously need to get laid, Jaz.”

“Oh my God, tell me we are not having this conversation. Albert, we are not having this conversation!” I hung up, horrified, yet laughing. The man belonged in a cage. In a zoo. On Mars.

But in his disgusting, direct way, Albert had given me the answer. Matt and I had loved each other to the end of our lives. To the dawning of our eternity. I sure hoped he was delirious with joy wherever he’d ended up. Did he feel the same about me?

REMEMBER, said Raoul, keying in my mind the one scene I never wanted to replay. But my psyche pictured us anyway, dead on the kitchen floor of a patently unsafe safe house, my body draped across Matt’s, our souls rising in our last act together. Then his soul, this amazing work of art with so many multicolored facets I could stare for days and never get bored, split. And part of it came into mine. Melded with mine. He’d left a part of himself with me. So I would know. So I could rest.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

Before I found true peace, however, I had to finish this job. And now that I knew how to do that, I needed to put the plan in motion. I dialed the home office.

“Demlock Pharmaceuticals,” answered Martha in her rough and ready voice.

“Marketing department, please.”

Three clicks and a buzz later Martha felt safe to say, “Go ahead.”

“It’s Jaz. Is Pete around?”

“Where else would he be?”

“Tap class?”

“Ha! Hang on, hon.”

Pete’s greeting was typical. “Tell me you haven’t wrecked a car.”

“How could I?” I replied bitterly. “All you sent was a moped.”

“Have you taken a look at that palace Vayl leased? It’s costing me an arm, a leg, and a couple of vital organs!”

“Well, I’d better tell Bergman to get that supercharged V8 off the floor then, huh? Do you think Palmolive gets out Pennzoil?”

Pete makes this unique sound when he’s about to have an I’ve-reached-the-bottom-of-my-wallet fit. It used to scare me, but I’ve begun to enjoy it. I know, sick.

“I’m kidding; the place is in mint condition.” Well, it would be as soon as the carpet cleaners showed. “However, the performance tent burned down last night.”

Again with the sound, a subtle blend of choking-on-rib-eye, suffering a megawedgie, and walking barefoot over broken glass. I quickly added, “The people who burned it are replacing it as we speak. Which leads to my problem.” I explained last night’s scenario, Jericho’s involvement, and how Pengfei—through Lung—had begun to cover their tracks. “They’ve already pocketed the governor of Texas. Has anybody been on you to shut us down?”

“No,” he said thoughtfully. “But I have been asked to brief the president tomorrow morning on an unrelated matter. Now I’m wondering . . .”

“Yeah, me too. Is there any way you can make yourself scarce until then? Just in case?”

“You can get this done tonight?”

I have no idea.“Absolutely.”

“Then I’m feeling queasy. Must’ve been that cream cheese on my morning bagel. I’m going home now, Jaz. Twenty-four hours. That’s all I can promise you. And you know what? Thanks for the excuse. I hate this suit I’m wearing today. It hits me right in the pits. Can’t wait to shuck this coat and—”

“Oh my God, Pete, I think I have a lead.”

“What?”

“You mentioning your suit just brought it together in my head. Samos’savhar told me he’d gotten this obnoxious purple three-piece at a men’s store called Frierman’s. Then, later, the reaver Samos hired said he’d bought some cowboy boots at the same place.”

“We’ll check it out.”

“Hang on. Let me think. Let me try to remember the conversations . . .” I took my mind back to the talks I’d had with Shunyuan Fa and Yale. “The store’s in Reno.”

“Excellent.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

Since Pete had given me his blessing to bring Jericho in as far as I thought necessary, I was set to spill the beans when I went back outside. But the old desire to protect those frail lives surrounding mine started banging cymbals in my head when I saw him talking earnestly with Cassandra.

This guy’s a dad, and not an Albert type either. Right now he’s safe. Even his department wants him off this case. So let him off.

Which was when Xia Ge showed up. Like Cassandra, she’d taken some extra time in front of the mirror this morning. She wore her sleek black hair down, which complemented her red V-neck sweater. Her black slacks looked immaculate, one of the advantages of having a kid who doesn’t regurgitate his meals on a regular basis. Baby Lai, dressed in a blue one-piecer dotted with monkeys, cruised in the stroller in front of Mom, looking so cheerful he might’ve been smashing miniature baby bottles all morning.

Cole had already risen to greet them. The light in Ge’s eyes when she smiled at him disturbed me. I didn’t think she’d ever act on her crush, but the fact that she felt it at all made me hurt for Shao.There should never be another man. Not in your fantasies . I looked at Ge.Not in your dreams .

I crouched by the stroller and spent some time talking to Lai, suggesting maybe someday he could give E.J. lessons on how to bounce without spitting up. Within a couple of minutes Ge squatted beside me. Though she smiled at the baby she spoke to me.

“Shao gone to airport to pick up his brother, Xia Wu. He asks have you spoken to police yet?”

I nodded to Jericho. “That’s him.”

Ge looked so relieved I nearly patted her shoulder. But she clearly thought we were being watched, so I played along.

“What he say?” she asked.

“Something bad has happened and powerful people are trying to cover it up,” I told her. Her hands tightened on the sides of the stroller, but otherwise her expression remained serene. “The regular police have been ordered away from here.”

I lowered my voice. “I am not regular police, but I do work for the U.S. government.” I tickled Lai under the chin, making him giggle madly. “I can’t tell you why I’m here, only that your family will be safer when my job is done. If I give you a phone number, will you remember it?”

“Yes.”

I gave her the numbers in sets for ease of recall. I said them three times and made her repeat them back three times. “Tell Wu to call when it’s safe for me to come aboard theConstance Malloy . Tell him under no circumstance is he to try anything on his own. He will fail. We have the only means known to defeat Lung.”

She hesitated for so long I finally looked at her. She was digging in the diaper bag, hiding her face from view.

“What is it?”

Tears slurred her voice. “That our countries should cooperate is so unlikely. I fear the worst. Wu will die. Shao will be struck with grief. Perhaps Lung will kill him too. Maybe his rage will turn to Lai and me.”

Since we seemed to be going through diapering motions I unstrapped Lai and lifted him from the stroller. Good grief, the kid packed a lot of weight in a little package! “I see we’ve eaten our Wheaties for breakfast,” I told him. He grinned and, as a token of goodwill, deposited a long loud stinky in his Huggies that I was only too glad to let Ge address.

I tried not to sound harsh, though it leaked through as I said, “You tell your brother-in-law to hell with China and the United States. This is for your family. Got that?”

She nodded. So did Lai. Then he farted and we both laughed. Meeting adjourned.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

After Ge and Lai left, I went back into the RV. Bergman sort of lunged on top of the table, realized it was me, and sank back into his original position, hunched over his toys, a magnifying glass clamped over the left lens of his regular glasses, looking like a jeweler evaluating diamonds.

“Bergman, I have an idea.”

“What.”

“Quit snapping; you’ll love it.”

He sat back. “Jasmine, I have about ten hours to make a translator that currently sounds like this”—he hit one of the laptop’s keys and a robotic voice started speaking stilted Chinese—“sound like this”—he hit another key and the computer began to replay Pengfei’s last tirade.

“Hmm, that’s quite a difference.”

“You think?”

“Bergman, this is where you shine. You’ll nail this easy. Which is why I’m sure you’ll have time for my other idea.”

He slumped so far in his seat I thought he might actually slide under the table. But his knees hit the other side and he stopped. So I went on. “The pill we wanted to feed Lung last night? Can we put it in a bullet and speed it up? You know, so the reaction is nearly instantaneous?”

As if someone had hauled him up by the armpits, Bergman rose in his seat. “What caliber?”

“Well, the bullet has to stay embedded, but I’d like to use Grief. That way the crossbow would be backup. I’d just go with that from the start, but I have to be so accurate with it, you know? This way I could hit Pengfei virtually anywhere andbam !”

He sat up straighter. “More likesizzle, wap !”

I nodded. “Cool.”

Bergman smiled. “I’m on it.”

I went back outside. Cassandra and Jericho were still talking. Cole had joined in, so laughter interspersed the conversation fairly often. I pulled up a chair and they all looked at me expectantly.

“How do you know I have something to say?” I asked.

“Cassandra told us you would.”

I made a face at her. “Remind me never to try to throw you a surprise party. Okay,” I went on. “She’s right. Here’s the deal.” I caught Jericho’s gaze. “We’re after lizard face. We’re pretty sure we have to get him tonight because by tomorrow whoever crawled up your governor’s ass may slither on into the president’s liver. Now, I know you can’t do anything official. But something is going down tonight. Hopefully it will happen on that yacht”—I pointed to theConstance Malloy —“far away from here. But if we can’t contain the violence, the people who are here at the festival will not be amply protected. I’ve seen the security in this place and it sucks.”

Now why is that?asked a part of my brain that really should’ve said something earlier.We have the potential for large crowds, so you need cops just to cope with those problems. We’ve already had a mini protest from other-hating fanatics, which, while pitiful in itself, could certainly breed bigger, scarier rioting if not dealt with correctly.

“Why is Lung here?” I asked.

“I take it you’re not looking for the obvious answer,” said Cole.

“He’s stolen an invaluable item that, if he can duplicate it, will make his army damn near invincible. So why isn’t he riding a rocket to China?”

Cassandra said, “Don’t you mean why hasn’t Pengfei made herself scarce?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“I’m lost,” said Jericho.

I sat forward in my chair. “Look, tonight Lung will have a full Chinese crew aboard that yacht of his. He’s been biding his time, waiting for them to arrive. What’s that say to you?”

They looked at me, their faces a study in blank.

“It’s his getaway car—er, boat,” I explained. “That’s why he’s still here. He couldn’t do anything because his crew was still traveling here from China.”

“So is he leaving tonight?”

“I think so, but something else is happening first.” I turned to Jericho. “Logistically speaking, this place is primed to blow. It’s going to be packed with people. Security bites, and what people the organizers have hired are largely untrained.”

A thought hit me. “That little drama last night with the burning of our tent might even have been a test run to see how much chaos they could cause and for how long.” Then I remembered Pengfei ripping out Li’s heart. “Or not. At any rate, I would feel a whole helluva lot better if you could have this joint swarming with off-duties tonight. Just make sure if something goes down they all know you’re in charge.”

He’d begun nodding about halfway through my speech. As soon as I finished, he was off his seat and on the phone Bergman had repaired, walking away from us, strolling down the winding path toward the Acrobats’ Arena.

Cassandra watched him go, slumping a little as the distance between them grew. “He was so nice.”

“Yeah.”

“And look at that butt.”

I considered said item. “Definitely superior. But not for Cassandra hands?”

She shook her head sadly. “Another woman stands between us now. He’ll meet her within the month.”

“Is she prettier than you?”

Cassandra started to smile.

“Well?”

“No.”

“Ha!”

“Jaz!”

“Honey, we’ve got to take our victories where we can find them.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

Jericho returned, but not for long. Duty called. So after making plans to meet up again later in the evening, we said our goodbyes.

“What now?” asked Cole.

The three of us stood in front of the RV under the awning. I was beginning to feel guilty about leaving Bergman so much on his own, but he liked it so much better that way. I’d have to make honing his people skills a priority on our next mission together even if he didn’t think it was necessary. I said, “That’s really up to you, Cassandra. What kinds of things will we need for this disguise spell?”

She held up a finger. “I was studying that last night. Let me get the book.”

She went inside. I waited for the growly, snarly sounds that would signal the snapping off of her head by our resident neurotic, but she emerged unscathed carrying a smelly old tome bound in something that sure looked like—

“Tell me that’s not people skin,” said Cole.

“Not,” she agreed. “I think it might be lamb.”

“Lamb isn’t much better,” I told her. “You know, where I grew up between 1988 and 1990, you couldn’t even buy lamb in the grocery store.”

Cassandra shook her head sadly. “That certainly explains a great deal about you,” she said.

Cole laughed softly until I kicked him in the foot. “So,” he said, “what does the book with the creepy cover say?”

She opened it up to a place she’d marked with—I kid you not—a square of toilet paper. It creaked. Cole and I traded glances. He did a haunted house shudder and I rolled my eyes.

“Would you two stop fooling around?”

“Sorry,” said Cole.

“You’re a disruptive influence,” I informed him.

“You’d be surprised how many of my teachers said the very same thing.”

“I doubt it.”

“We need to make a shopping list,” said Cassandra. She’d brought her purse out with her. After rooting around inside for half a minute, she emerged with a small pad of paper and a pen, which she handed to Cole.

He waved the pen around appreciatively. It was wrapped with soft red material, and a spray of fine red feathers had been hot glued to the top. “Cassandra,” he said, “I hope you know that poaching Muppets is illegal in this country.”

“Just be quiet and write.” Cassandra read off the list, which included some common herbs like catmint and basil and some items I’d never heard of before like derrentia and triptity. “Where are we supposed to find that stuff?” I asked.

“Corpus Christi’s a big city,” Cassandra replied. “There’s bound to be at least one coven running a supply store here, and most likely it will be near the bay.” She came to the end of the list and stopped, though I knew she wasn’t done.

“What?”

“We need an item of her clothing.”

“Of course. Can’t we save that till the end though? You know, until I’m physically on the yacht?”

She read over the spell. “Yes,” she said slowly. “But we need something of hers—”

“What, like a lock of hair?”

Cole threw up his hands. “How the hell are we supposed to get that? We can be pretty sure they don’t spend the day on that boat. They’d be too vulnerable.”

“Actually, I had another idea. Bergman may need to help though.”

I winced. “He’s slogging through a blizzard of work as it is.”

“Then let’s leave it for now. It may even be something we can accomplish without him. First, the shopping.”

“Can I go?” asked Cole. “Oh, stop looking at me like that. Bergman won’t let me watch him, much less help. Vayl’s down for the count, and all the beautiful babes are at work.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Or at the mall.”

Four hours later, laden with bags and, okay, a cute green dress covered with silver stars that was on sale and in the same store as the triptity, so cut out the guilt, we returned to the RV.

Cassandra opened the door and stopped with her foot on the first step. I strained to see around her, especially when I heard Bergman humming to himself.“Bum, bump-bump, tah-dah, toodle-loo.” I tucked my head under Cassandra’s elbow.

Bergman was dancing.

Okay, it actually resembled an old man’s attempt not to break his hip while proving he could still shake a leg at his great-granddaughter’s wedding. But still.

“Bergman,” I said, “is that your happy dance?”

He grinned at me.

“Cassandra, look,” I said. “Bergman has teeth.”

“They’re very nice,” she replied.

“Lemme in before my arms fall off!” Cole demanded. We piled inside and dropped the bags under the monitor, which revealed a lot more activity than it had in a while. I spared it another glance. The Chinese crew had arrived. But Xia Wu hadn’t called. Well, I knew I might not be able to depend on him. If he didn’t contact me by the time Vayl woke, we’d modify our plan accordingly.

I turned back to Bergman. “What’d you do?” I asked. For an answer he held up a long thin wire. It took a tremendous effort not to snatch it, but I kept my hands to myself as I asked, “Is that the translator?”

He nodded, showing those perfect white teeth again. He came toward me and draped the wire over my head. “The idea,” he said, “is to weave this into your hair. If you have it kind of hanging down by your face like this,” he demonstrated, pulling a handful of curls forward and winding them around the wire, “it should never show. Okay. Say something.”

“How is it powered? I mean, it’s so thin. Where’s the battery?”

Nobody answered. They just stared. I watched slow amazement dawn on their faces.

“Oh my God,” said Cole. “You sound just like that bitch!”

“Watch your mouth, young man,” I snapped.

Cassandra nodded. “Exactly.”

Bergman moved closer. “Now say something.”

“This is so incredible, Bergman. You are a flipping genius!”

“That’s what I thought.” He wasn’t responding to my comment. “When I stand this near I can hear the English before it’s translated. So make sure you keep everybody at least three feet away from you. And figure out how to hide your lips. Use a fan maybe.”

“How’d you do it?” asked Cole.

“Well, I couldn’t have without already having Pengfei’s voice on the computer. Other than that . . . none of your business.” He sounded very offhand, but his shelter-bea-gle eyes begged,Feed me, pet me, love me . I wanted to be careful with what I said though. It would suck to jinx the whole deal with too much optimism. You saw that every day on Cinemax.

“This is stellar work, Miles. Probably your best ever, considering the deadline pressure. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Forget that idea we talked about earlier. I can nail Pengfei with a bolt, no problem.”

“Are you kidding? I’m on a roll, Jaz. I’ll have that sucker ready for you by dusk!” Scary light in his eyes now. Kinda fanatical, like Dale Spitzer and theOthers Suck crew. Scarier still that I could relate. The work did it, man. It seeped right into your marrow if you let it or, in our case, if you courted and sweet-talked and sometimes pleaded with it.

I hesitated. “Okay, but I’m warning you. We can’t play outside anymore. Cassandra’s got to do her half of the Pengfei disguise.And I need to figure out how to get back onboard the Constance Malloy.Come on, Wu, grow a set and give me a call!

A couple of hours later he did just that. Good thing too, because I’d just finished doing eenie meenie minie mo to decide which of my crew I should strangle first, and the future looked bleak for Bergman.

The biggest problem was that four grown adults weren’t meant to hang together in such a small space with so much at stake. Playing euchre, fine. Making preparations to assassinate two vampires who could easily turn their rig into kindling—nuh-uh.

Nobody found Cole’s antics amusing, which made him want to grab his toys and go play somewhere else. He disappeared into the bathroom for a while. Nobody even wanted to guess what he was up to in there. Then he ended up in the driver’s seat, flipping through radio stations so fast Cassandra finally yelled at him to either settle on one or put in a damn CD. Yes, she said “damn.” She was really starting to sweat.

I blamed part of it on the steam rising from the big pot bubbling over the stove. I don’t know why she felt she had to lean her entire face over it every time she stirred the contents, but there you go. I guess some spell casters are very hands-on that way.

Part of the problem was Bergman.

“These instruments are very sensitive to temperature,” he’d announce to the room at large. Then he’d subside. Five minutes later, “The metal is perspiring. How am I supposed to do intricate work like this with a metal that’s perspiring?”

Cassandra strode out of the kitchen and disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later she returned and slammed a stick of deodorant on Bergman’s table. “Try that on your damn metal!” she snapped as she went back to her work.

He raised his eyebrows at me like,What’s gotten into her? I pointed directly at him. Then I pressed my lips together, made a zipping motion across them, acted as if I was turning a lock at their center, and threw the imaginary key out the window.

I managed to keep them from open warfare, but Wu definitely heard the relief in my voice when I answered his call.

“I am sorry I have not phone before,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “There was much work to be done before I can break free.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’m impressed that you’re willing to give us a chance.”

“I am willing to talk,” he hedged.

Dammit, I don’t havetimefor negotiations! But one way or another I had to get hold of a Pengfei outfit. And a fan. And maybe some of her makeup and hair doodads. No sense in pushing this spell so hard it burst at the seams. Plus it would be nice to separate her from Lung to start with. Our plan would sail so much smoother if I could kill and become her before Lung even saw her this evening. If I could get into her room, maybe I could find a clue as to where to find her.My job would be so much easier if I just knew where you two stiffs holed up during the day.

“Miss Robinson?”

“Sorry, Xia Wu, my mind was wandering there for a second. Um, yes, talking would be great. Can I meet you onboard?”

“Certainly. As cover, please bring with you the dry-cleaning from J-Pards on Twenty-sixth and Elm. I neglected to retrieve it while in town as an excuse to have it brought to me.”

“Very clever,” I said.Dry-cleaning! Argh! Pengfei had left an outfit here on land, ripe for the picking, and I hadn’t even considered the possibility.

“My brother, Shao, have the ticket. He makes sure you get it within the hour. Please to be here before five.”

Okay, now I had two reasons not to like this guy, maybe three. One, he wasn’t going to jump right in line from the start. Two, he didn’t have a problem involving his brother. Though with a family to support, Shao could not afford to stand this close to the kind of danger Lung represented. And maybe three, isolated by the telephone, the timbre of Wu’s voice led me to suspect the People’s Liberation Army had been recruitingothers . And I didn’t think Wu’s particular brand cared much for mine. In fact, I thought he just might be a reaver.

CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE

My first instinct was to get the Xia clan the hell out of town. Stash them somewhere safe until Pengfei, Lung, and Wu were no longer threats. But then it might be obvious they had American allies and that could be even worse for them than what they faced now. Plus I could be wrong about Wu. So, though I would deeply regret it later, I decided the best course of action would be none at all.

However I had to get that dry-cleaning tag, and the Xias had been seen around our camp way too often. “Cole, you look bored.”

He rotated his chair to face me where I stood between Mary-Kate and Ashley, still holding the phone. At the moment he was making faces. By that, I mean he’d pinched his eyebrows between the thumbs and forefingers of each hand and was rearranging his expression in time to the song on the radio, which happened to be that timeless classic “Help Me, Rhonda” by the Beach Boys.

I pocketed my phone. “Are you what happens to little boys when they grow up without ever having gotten to play with Mr. Potato Head?”

He pulled his eyebrows into a frowny face. “I’ll have you know my lack of PlaySkool toys from ages seven to nine has scarred me for life. Did you know one Christmas I actually had to settle for a deluxe double upside-down loop racing set from Tyco?”

“I’m amazed you haven’t blown up an entire chain of toy stores by now. Come on, let’s get outta here.”

“You’re leaving?” Cassandra and Bergman chorused, their soprano (him) and tenor (her) combining to provide our listening ears with a lovely harmony of trepidation and outright alarm.

“Yes,” I said, “although I prefer to think of it as escaping. If you two kill each other before we get back, make sure you leave written—and by that I mean printed, not cursive—directions on how to use your gadgets.”

I didn’t actually run out the door, but it was definitely one of my quicker exits. Caught by surprise, Cole couldn’t keep up with me and was forced to dodge a barrage of demands and requests before finally rejoining me on the outside.

“I like those two,” Cole offered, “but only when they’re apart.”

“I agree.”

“Together they’re like spilled oil and Alaskan sea creatures.”

“Well, for our sakes I hope they find a way to mesh. Otherwise, I think, eventually, one of them will have to go.”

Cole put his fingers to the corners of his lips and pulled them down.

“Would you cut that out!”

He shrugged, as if at a loss as to understand my lack of humor. “So where arewe going?”

“To find the Xias.” At this time of day we should have been able to catch them at home, since Shao was between shows and, I kinda thought, they were expecting us.

We wandered the area, smiling at the people we saw, hoping we’d find the Xias before we had to stop somebody and ask for them by name. Then I had an inspiration. I grabbed Cole by the hand and dragged him back toward the path, where a row of game booths had just opened up for business.

“You played baseball as a kid, right?” I asked him.

“Of course.”

“And your dad coached the team?”

“Yeah,” he said with a curious, how-on-earth-did-you-know tone. Did I really look that stupid?

“So you were the pitcher.”

“I was the only kid who could get it across the plate without bouncing it first.” Slight defensive tone now.

I pushed him up to the counter of a place designed to look like a dugout. At the back, bowling pins had been set up on four different tables. The more you knocked down, the cooler the prize. I directed Cole’s attention to a little brown bear sitting on a shelf. Cost—ten pins. “That’s the one I want.”

The proprietor of the establishment, a fifty-something gentleman missing at least four teeth whose greasy brown hair framed his sad, skeletal face came forward to take my five bucks. I held on to my end, forcing him to meet my eyes.

“Tell you what,” I said. “I’m a cop, but I’m here to have a good time. So I don’t really want to check to make sure you’re running a straight game. What do you say you take a stroll to the back there and do that for me before we begin?” I let my eyes tell him exactly what I’d do to him if I discovered he was trying to cheat me, and he released that bill like I’d coated it with ricin. He kept his back to us as he fiddled with the middle game table. I saw his hands go to the mini apron tied around his bony hips; then he turned and looked at Cole.

“Ready to play?”

Cole smirked. “Always.”

Three throws later I had my bear and we were headed back to trailer city. We only had to stop a couple of people and explain that a baby whose parents were acrobats had left the bear in our tent during our show the night before. One guy couldn’t speak English. The other pointed us straight to the Xias’ trailer.

Shao answered the door. He wore a white T-shirt and loose black pants that tied at the waist. His hair stood on end, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. His eyes were puffy and red.Oh God, Ge’s left him .

But she came to the door next, laying her hand on his shoulder. The cords in his neck and shoulders immediately relaxed.Whew! I didn’t realize how badly I wanted their family to stay together. It was because of the little dude I could see in the background, sitting in his high chair, banging on his plate with a plastic spoon, future drummer for the Cheerios Crushers.

I held out the bear. “Your baby left this in our tent last night. We wanted to return it because we thought he might have a hard time sleeping without it.” I smiled, hoping they’d catch on. They did. All too quickly.

Shao bowed deeply. “Thank you. Thank you. Please to come in?”

I glanced at Cole. “Sure, I guess we have a minute.”

I’d describe the design scheme for the Xias’ camper as Early Toddler. Otherwise a clean, dust-free environment, the place was artfully strewn with balls, rattles, Sesame Street puppets, and teething rings. Ge went to clean up the interior decorator while Shao showed us to a rust-colored love seat that sank nearly to the floor when we sat on it. As soon as I managed to remove my knees from my throat I said, “I spoke to your brother just now.”

Shao’s face puckered. He dropped into a chair next to us. “My brother is no more.”

Aha.“What do you mean?”

He put his elbows on his knees and dropped his forehead into his hands. For a while he just sat that way; then he ran his fingers through his crazed hair and looked up. “He was fine when he got off the plane. Himself, yes?”

I nodded, as if I’d recognize Wu anywhere.

“We say hello. We hug. He must stop at the bathroom. So I wait for him. When he come out . . .” Shao shook his head.

You never expect to find the bogeyman in the bathroom. But it’s a favorite hangout. He seems to lurk in the stall markedOUT OF ORDER , waiting until your pants have fallen around your ankles and the other patrons have left. “Did you see anyone go in or come out right after him? Anyone, you know, funny-looking?”

Shao shook his head.

“I know you were distracted by Wu’s behavior and your suspicions, but think back to that moment. You’re standing, where, by the men’s room door?”

He nodded. “Leaning against the wall. Wu’s bags are at my feet.”

“Wait, go back a couple of steps. Wu puts his bags down. Does he do anything before he goes into the bathroom?”

Shao squeezed his eyes shut. “He pinching my cheeks. Saying I still cute as little bunny rabbit. Makes me want to put him in headlock like when we kids. When he turn to open bathroom door he nearly run into old man.”

I leaned forward. “Describe him,” I demanded.

“White hair like this.” Shao held his own hair straight up and down. “Eyes, ah . . .” He got up, went into the kitchen, and grabbed a pan. Pointing to its silver exterior, he said, “Like this color only a little bit blue. Also covered with hair.” Shao made quick circular motions with his hands crisscrossing his face. “Just everywhere. And in his ear a sparkly ring.”

I would bet a year’s pay Xia Wu had encountered the reaver Desmond Yale.

Shao returned to his chair as he went on. “When Wu come out of the bathroom, there is someone new behind his eyes.” He shook his head. “This is no good way to describe it. Also there is a feeling.” He touched his fingers to his chest several times, said something in Chinese, and looked at Ge for help.

Though Lai gabbed and gurgled as if he had important things to say, she kept her eyes glued to her husband as she carried their son into the room. “I think the word is ‘evil,’” she whispered.

For once, baby Lai didn’t want to play. He seemed to sense matters were not right in his world, not by a long shot. Though Ge put him down inside a ring of fascinating toys, he crawled right over the top of them straight to his father, who immediately picked him up. They both seemed grateful for the cuddle.

I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would be of comfort to these wonderful people, so I decided to do my business and get the hell out. The sooner I left, the quicker they could heal. “Wu said you had a dry-cleaning ticket for me.”

Shao nodded. He dug out his wallet and handed the voucher to me. “What will you do?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Shao. I can’t tell you that.”

He nodded, surreptitiously wiping away tears as he returned his wallet to his pocket. “My brother worse than dead now,” he said, his eyes suddenly fierce on mine as his rage and his accent thickened. “He trapped. Never to be freed until by death. You end it, let his soul rise away so his family can honor him, as should be right!” He stood, holding Lai in one arm, as Ge wrapped her hands around the other. “Please to understand,” he said earnestly, “Chinese people honor all their ancestor. Very ancient tradition. Wu must be honor!” What he couldn’t tell me with words I saw in his face. This was as important to him as breathing.

Suddenly I couldn’t speak. My throat simply closed on the terrible reality that a man should be forced to ask someone to kill his brother in order to free his soul. But Shao read the answer in my eyes and nodded grimly.

“We have to go,” Cole said softly. He took my hand, pulled me off the love seat, led me out of the Xias’ home.

He found us a cab, got us to the dry-cleaners, even paid the bill. We never said a word. Finally, when we got back to the festival, he said, “How do you suppose demons get into their host bodies in the first place?”

The question caught me by surprise. “I always just assumed the victims were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I don’t know,” Cole said. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since Shao told us about Wu. I mean, you have to choose to become a vampire. Maybe it’s that way with possession too.”

“Are you trying to make this kill easier on me?”

Cole pondered that question. “Actually, I think I’m trying to make it easier on me.”

We were nearing the RV now. It was almost time to meet Wu, but we had a second to grab a black metal bench overlooking the bay. I took Cole’s arm and led him there, draping the dry-cleaning between us.

“Okay, here’s your chance. This may be your only one,” I said, “so I suggest you take advantage of it. Ask me anything.”

He looked out at the rippling blue water when he asked, “Does it get any easier?”

I thought of Vayl’s ex. “Some are easier than others.”

“Do you ever stop being afraid?”

Huh, good question. I thought back through my career. “Yes, there are times when you stop. Other times you just manage the fear. If you do a good job it works for you. If you suck, it hurts you and everybody around you.”

He scratched at the faint stubble that had come in since he’d neglected to shave that morning. Still he refused to meet my eyes when he asked, “Do you think I’m going to be any good at this job?”

“If . . . Yeah, I think you’ll do fine.”

“What were you going to say to start with?”

Sigh. I really need to learn how to lie to people I care for.“I was going to say, if you survive long enough to get the experience. But then I decided I’d just make sure you did.”

He looked at me then and grinned. “Excellent.”

“So let’s quit slacking and get to work, huh?”

We took the clothes inside. The atmosphere had cooled considerably, and not just because Cassandra had ditched the kitchen in favor of the living area. Bergman had left the RV altogether.

“His frustration just mushroomed,” Cassandra told us. “He swore several times. Then he threw some parts. Then he yelled, ‘I’m not set up to do this kind of work!’ He finally decided he needed a special tool, and as soon as the Internet showed him a store in the city that carried it, he left.”

I couldn’t decide. Should I feel guilty for nearly driving my old friend nuts? Or should I continue to try to keep him busy so he wouldn’t drive everyone else crazy with his infantile social graces?Um, Alex, could I have Never Hire Your Former Roommates for $200 please?

I threw Lung’s clothes beside Cole on Mary-Kate and held up the two dresses Pengfei had taken to the cleaners. “Which one should I wear tonight?”

Cassandra considered them both. “I like the black with the green phoenixes. Or is it phoenixi?”

“No idea,” I replied. “Black it is. I’m taking the rest to the yacht now. Cole, could you go to the marina and rent us a speedboat? And not one that’s going to sink any minute like the Seven Seas Succulents’ ferry, okay?”

“Will do.” Cole took off. I went to the bedroom, taking the dry-cleaning with me. I hung my chosen dress in the closet and pulled out my weapons bag. If, indeed, Wu had turned reaver, he’d be a tough kill even as a newbie. So I wanted lots of options.

With Grief already snug in my shoulder holster, I slid Great-Great-Grandpa’s bolo into its built-in pocket sheath. The .38 went between my belt and the small of my back. I strapped a sheath full of throwing knives to my right wrist, although they were for last-ditch attacks. My front-line weapon slid out of a ten-by-twelve envelope. A translucent sheet of robotic cells some think tank at the DOD had created, it adhered naturally to almost any surface. I pressed it against the plastic covering Lung’s suit and stood back. Yup, it blended seamlessly. I ran my hand across the plastic. Easy to feel where the sheet left off and the real plastic began. Good.

With my offensive strategy in place, I felt prepared to deal with Wu, who, I reminded myself sternly, wasn’t Wu at all. As I moved to leave, I brushed my fingers along the outside of Vayl’s sleeping tent.

Maybe I won’t be back,I thought.These reavers are badass. I have a feeling one of them may actually get me one of these days.

I realized with a sort of shock the thought wouldn’t have bothered me at all a couple of months ago. But now I understood a lot better why my boss kept coming back to this life. It was so damned interesting. Especially when you shared part of your day with someone who could make your heart do gymnastics with the barest touch of his hand. Problem was, I knew firsthand what could happen when you fell off the balance beam.

I found Cole at the dock, manning a bright red speedboat that actually looked seaworthy. He’d found himself a captain’s hat, which he wore backward.

“You know,” I said as I handed him the plastic-wrapped clothing and scrambled aboard, “you’re probably breaking some mariner’s law with that headgear.”

He blew a green bubble. “Does that make me a pirate?”

I rolled my eyes. It was becoming such a typical reaction to him that I feared they might stick that way and people would begin to confuse me with Rodney Dangerfield. “Okay, Johnny Depp, reel it in. I need you to be alert if things start to fall apart. On the face of it we’re just delivering the dry-cleaning. That’s all the rest of the crew knows. My guess is they’re all Lung supporters, so they’ll behave until given contrary orders. You stay in the boat. Be ready to move out fast.”

“What if I hear loud noises?”

“Like what kind?”

“Like fighting noises? Do I come investigate?”

“Cole,I can barely kill reavers andI can see their shields. No offense, but you wouldn’t have a chance. Stay in the boat until I come out or you’re sure I’m dead. Then leave. Got it?”

His second bubble went limp when I said the word “dead.” But he nodded. “It sucks being the rookie.”

“Yes, it does. Look at it this way: I can’t get off the yacht without you.”

He brightened at that thought. Just call me the feel-good girl.

CHAPTERTHIRTY

What I’d said to Cole about managing fear was about four parts BS and one part wishful thinking. Fear is like a pig at the 4-H Fair. You can follow it around the ring with your little pig prodder and most of the time it’ll go where you tell it. But the sucker weighs over three hundred pounds, and if it decides it wants to jump the fence and run down the road, leaving a trail of green poop plops all the way back to the farm, by God it’ll do just that.

Mine still trotted in obedient circles, but that fence was starting to look damn appealing. I had learned long ago that kindness and/or bribery do not work with my particular pig.Just keep moving, I told it bluntly.I’m tired of wading in crap and you are not adding to the pile .

As Cole pulled up to theConstance Malloy , I grabbed the dry-cleaning and hopped on deck. I let him take care of the tying off since Wu had appeared on the deck above and leaned over the rail, a toothy smile on his face. “You must be Miss Robinson from the dry-cleaners! Please to come up. I will show you where to hang the clothes.”

Yeah, he just oozed nice-guy attitude, but he let me climb the ladder to his deck holding three hangers full of heavy brocade and silk clothing. Not an easy feat, especially when you’re anticipating an attack.

He nodded at me as I made level ground and led me through the outdoor seating area where so many had died so recently. I tore my eyes from the spotless floor and trained them on his back.

Wu wore a dark blue uniform-tunic and pants with black cuffs on the hems of each. His boat shoes and hat were also black. He resembled Shao, but not enough to make his termination a nightmare moment for me. I squinted, trying to make out the dark outline of a reaver’s shield. Nothing. But it was a bright, sunny day, the kind that seemed to hide these shields the best. Time for test number two.

“Aaah!” I pretended to stumble, grabbing at the rail with my right hand as I raised the clothes high with my left. I kept my eyes on Wu. As he spun to see what had happened, part of his face remained half a step behind. So did his hands as they reached out to help me. I stepped back so he couldn’t touch me, though I smiled. “Thank you. I’m fine. I fell over the plastic.” I pointed to the trailing bits of wrap as I watched the parts of Wu coalesce.

My head told the dread gnawing at my intestines to go chew on someone else for a while. I was pitting myself against a brand-new reaver here, not a seasoned vet like Desmond Yale. Wu’s future demise should be no problem. The dread laughed, the way a couple of high-maintenance teenaged girls will after they’ve just made fun of your hair, your earrings, your shoes, your jeans, the way you walk, the way you talk, and the fact that you blink every thirty seconds or so . . . and went right back to supper. Because I now had to assume that Wu had set his sights on my soul. I wasn’t sure how he’d been able to ID me. Maybe the reavers had a Seer working their side of the aisle. Maybe Desmond Yale had been carrying a passenger in his head when I’d fought him at Sustenance. One he’d passed to Wu’s body in the airport bathroom. Either way, it looked as if the rules that governed reaver kills allowed for payback. And Wu had suddenly discovered it was his turn. He was probably struggling not to gloat that I’d pretty much dropped in his lap. It’s the worst kind of bad luck. But it happens.

I followed Wu through the big combo room, where three more uniformed men were dusting and scrubbing as if their lives depended on the sparkle they left behind. Who knows, maybe they did. A hall led from the dining section into the cabin area I’d found on my first trip. We ignored the closed doors to either side of us and went straight to the one at the end of the hall. Wu opened it with a key he took from his pocket.

I anticipated a problem if he wanted to act the gentleman, but he headed into the room first. He did close the door, and I heard him lock it, but that was cool with me. I didn’t care for interruptions either.

“This is Pengfei Yan’s room,” said Wu.

Vayl would have loved it. And it bugged me that he and Pengfei shared similar tastes. What did it say about two people who enjoyed enormous beds lifted up on their own white marble pillars that are somehow lit from within? The bedding matched the carpet and drapes, all a creamy white with an overlay of intertwined buttery circles. White dressers with soft yellow knobs flanked the bed, over which hung another gauzy curtain of a startling scarlet red. The matching pillows had been thrown against the white upholstered wall that backed the bed like big globs of blood.

A white folding screen painted with red dragons stood in the corner opposite the door. This was where Wu told me to hang Pengfei’s dress. I kept Lung’s suits, holding them next to me as if to relieve some of the weight on my arm. “Tell me,” I asked as I peeled back a corner of the plastic sheet, “what’s your job on this boat?”

“I am just one of the crew,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back as he went to stand at the corner of the bed nearest the door.

“But, I mean, do you help cook, or clean, or—”

“Oh, I understand,” he said, smiling. “I serve the guests. We have several onboard, though most are sleeping, since they try to keep the same hours as Pengfei Yan and Chien-Lung.”

I watched him carefully as he spoke. Inside, with the curtains drawn and the door shut, I could see his shield now, follow its outline as it moved with his body. As with the first reaver I’d met, it opened mainly when he moved his head.

I could shoot him, but if I managed to squeeze a bullet behind that shield it would splatter blood and brains all over the room, not to mention make a loud boom that the rest of the crew would find curiously out of place in the peace of the late afternoon. Not too thrilled with the whole stabbing scenario either, considering the amount of blood it would produce, and the fact that I’d be charading as Pengfei and might need these digs later on. Well, those were plans B and C anyway. Given the fact that his shield seemed to weaken at the head as I’d hoped it would, Plan A might actually work.

“So, about my assignment—” I began.

“I am afraid my government could not possibly cooperate with anything you have planned, despite the fact that Lung is our mutual enemy.” Huh. Wu had completely lost the broken accent he’d used over the phone. Was he done pretending then?

I let my arm sag and winced, as if the robes were getting too heavy for me. I moved toward the bed, where I obviously intended to lay them down. “What?” I asked. “You think helping us out would make you look bad? Afraid maybe North Korea will call you a big weenie and go play with its nukes all on its own?”

Wu smiled, showing far too many teeth. I imagined if he unrolled his tongue the tip would hit his belly button. “I believe it has more to do with the fact that we think you Americans are assholes.”

I had reached the bed by now. Laying the robes down just right became a big production. One that allowed me to get much closer to Wu. As I worked myself within range I clicked my tongue at him and gave him my you’ve-been-a-bad-little-boy look. “Only narrow-minded pricks cling to stereo-types like that, Wu. For instance,I might have thought that as a member of the People’s Liberation Army you were a dyed-in-the-wool card-carrying Chinese Communist.” I continued to lean over the dry-cleaning, making sure he thought I was off balance, and that he could see both of my hands touched the plastic covering the robes. I went on. “But because I’m willing to consider many different perspectives, I’ve come to realize you’re actually just a soul-snatching reaver.”

He lunged, just as I’d hoped he would. To have allowed myself a single thought in such a vulnerable position would have been the death of me. So instead I acted. I tore the clear film off of the plastic.

I spun sideways as Wu hit the bed and rammed the film, which I called my portable pillow, through the break in his shield.

It wiggled down his face like a living mask, covering his mouth, nose, and eyes so tightly I could see their outlines beneath the material.

He clawed at the material, falling off the bed in the process. I rolled him to his stomach, stuck a knee in his back, and held him there, grabbing his hand from his face and twisting it so hard he was forced to let me pull it behind him. I yanked the other back the same way, pushing them both high up his back and securing them with a plastic strap.

When his struggles finally ceased, I rolled him over and retrieved the portable pillow, folding it into eighths and stuffing it into my pocket. I jumped backward as the third eye opened on his forehead. Unlike Wu’s regular eyes, it was colored light green. I waited, but nothing wafted out of it. It stared at the ceiling, empty and sightless as the originals.

“Where are you, Wu?” I whispered. Then I realized I’d never seen the soul of the first reaver I’d killed either. Which meant . . . “Reaver’s can’t kill anybody who’s not marked. But when they enter a body, the soul leaves. So these people, these reaver-hosts, must agree to the whole idea up-front.” Cole was right. Wu wanted to be a reaver. Samos must have made the life seem awful damn appealing. Godlike, even. With power over life and death. No pesky morals to hold you back. And the benefits package! “But at what cost? Where’s his soul now?” I had a pretty good idea, actually, but I decided right then and there never to breathe a word of it to Shao.

I hid the body behind the screen. Surveying the room again, I thought how handy it would be to pull up a floorboard under some random closet and find Pengfei and/or Lung ripe for the staking. But I didn’t sense a single vampire aboard.

I yanked open the closet doors and stifled a yelp. A row of white Styrofoam heads covered with wigs stared at me from the shelf. Just for a second I’d thought they were real.

I grabbed a medium-sized carpet bag with a gold clasp from the closet and filled it with the long-braid wig, which had been shoved behind the others and probably wouldn’t be missed, along with a few of Pengfei’s vanity supplies and a fan. With Lung’s clothes and the bag in hand I left the room. Though I badly wanted to take the shortest route back to the speedboat, when I passed the stairs that led up to the pilothouse I stopped, considered the huge gaps in my knowledge, and decided to take a detour.

As I’d expected, an actual captain inhabited the pilothouse during this, my second visit.Amazing how effective that hat can be when worn the right way around.

“Excuse me, sir. I thought I saw Xia Wu come this way.” I held up the dry-cleaning. “He told me to bring this to Chien-Lung’s quarters, but I got lost. Your ship is so massive!” Ladies, for future reference, when speaking with nautical men, ship equals private parts. The captain melted like chocolate in my hands. “Anyway, I wanted to tell him I realized we didn’t get the stain completely out of this robe, so I’d like to take it back and reclean it for free. I can have it done first thing in the morning.”

“I am afraid that will not be possible,” the captain said in British-accented English as he gave me a come-sit-on-my-lap smile. “We are leaving port this evening.”

“Oh, no! Are you going right away? Because I can take it straight to the store to clean and have it back here in a couple of hours.”

He rose from his chair and sauntered over to me, which was when I realized he resembled Sulu from the old Star Trek series. I’d always thought Sulu was kind of hot, so it was easier to make the flirty face when he said, “Actually, we’re not scheduled to weigh anchor until midnight. In fact, my employers said not to expect them aboard until after ten. So why don’t you bring the dry-cleaning back around seven, and you and I can have a late supper?”

Well, it looked like I could cross the yacht off my list of potential Pengfei hideouts. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about her returning and missing the goodies I’d stolen. If I’d given it a second’s thought, I’d have realized she and Chien-Lung, having already cleaned up after the tent fire, would feel no need to return to the yacht when they rose to repeat the process. Wherever they were, their evening’s adventures would begin as soon as their eyes opened. Which meant I needed to get the hell back to shore.

I looked around the pilothouse, not having to act impressed at the blue-lit instrument panel. “Wow, supper on a real yacht? That would be amazing!”

He leaned in. “And bring your bikini. Maybe we’ll just have dessert in the hot tub.”

Which was when he went too far. I wouldn’t even take a dip with Sulu, and he was genuinely cute. “Thanks, that would be great!” I looked out the window. “Oh, there’s my ride!” I pointed to Cole and waved, as if he could see me. Then I waved at Captain Sulu and ran down the steps that would lead me to the lower deck and the speedboat home.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

Even if I get Alzheimer’s I will never forget the sight of Bergman huddled over his work. It’s one of my first memories of him. I’d made friends with a girl in English Lit named Lindy Melson. She and her roommate, a grad student named Miles, needed some help with the rent. When she showed me the place, the first thing I saw when she opened the apartment door was Bergman hunched over the white Formica counter, fixing the toaster so it would sound an alarm when the waffles were done.

“Miles,” I said as I walked into the RV and saw him bent over the table, “what’s up?”

“Not your bullet, that’s for sure.” He sat back and rubbed his eyes with the knuckles of both hands, a sure sign of high-end stress.

“Where’s Cassandra?”

“Bathroom, running water over themagical item .” He said the last two words as if they had personally shoved him against the lockers and tried to steal his lunch money.

I sat down across from him.

“Don’t—”

I held up my hands.

“—touch the stuff.”

I scooted over until I was right next to him.

He looked down at me suspiciously. I put my head on his shoulder, breathed him in, and felt myself begin to unfold. After a kill, it’s always hard for me to get back to real. In the six months I’d worked solo . . . Well, let’s just say this was the safest way I’d found to reground. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You mean besides the fact that I need my entire lab to build something this intricate?”

“Yeah, besides that.”

He moved, forcing me to look at him. “Jaz, you want a bullet hard enough to penetrate but soft enough to break apart once it’s impacted so that it doesn’t exit the victim. Hard enough to protect the inner casing but soft enough, again, to break up and allow that inner casing to light up a vampire from the inside. Do you understand how tall that order is with the equipment I have available to me?”

I stretched my hands toward the ceiling.

“Taller,” he drawled.

Cole had been leaning against the kitchen counter, absently watching the cleaning frenzy on the monitor as we talked. Now he looked at us and said, “You know what this situation calls for?”

Bergman and I shook our heads.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his fist, sat at the table, and offered us his open hand. “Bubble gum.”

We dug in and sat in relative silence except, of course, for the blowing and the popping. Suddenly it came to me. “What if it’s not a bullet?” I asked.

Bergman sat up, a sure sign of interest. Cole blew another bubble, so who knew. I went on. “What if it’s a dart?”

“Nah,” said Bergman. “The needle’s too thin. We need something round enough to contain the pill.”

“Crossbow bolt?” suggested Cole. His eyes went from my face to Bergman’s and back again. “Hey, quit looking so shocked. Just because I have beautiful tresses doesn’t mean there isn’t a working brain underneath. Look at Cassandra.”

We tried. She’d just emerged from the bathroom, so we craned our necks, bending nearly backward to see not only her lovely long locks but also the shining silver medallion she carried on a chain between her outstretched fingers.

“Is it ready?” I asked.

“Quit bouncing, Jaz,” Bergman growled. “You’re going to knock something off the table.”

“Lemme out!” I ordered. Bergman stood up, allowing me to exit stage left. I went to Cassandra and took the medallion in my hands. When she’d put it into the pot along with all the other ingredients, it had just been a plain silver disc. Now she’d imbued it with the powers of the herbs. And magical writings, the words she’d whispered over the pot, had carved themselves into its face.