Bitten to Death (28 page)

“Okay, Jack,” I whispered to him as I slipped the studded straps off his broad back. “You and I both know the short, skinny freak’s going to end up strutting around his bedroom wearing this with a leather thong singing, ‘I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.’ I know, gross. But don’t feel bad. It made you look like the lead sled dog from that movie
Dominatrix Iditarod
. Don’t ask how I came to watch it. There’s a reason my work’s top secret.”

Once the clerk had his bribe, he felt free to tell us Disa had enthused to Vayl about the beautiful scenery that would form the background of his momentous reunion when they reached Skofja Loka.

According to the clerk’s map, Skofja Loka was situated eighteen kilometers from the airport, tucked in a valley still blanketed with white, as though winter couldn’t quite let go so close to the mountains. I pushed the car as fast as I dared along dark, unfamiliar roads while Dave sat beside me, trying fruitlessly to raise Cole on the phone.

“Well, shit,” he said suddenly.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Cam’s got a sat phone. Maybe he’ll answer.” He did, on the first ring.

“Cam, it’s Dave.”

Cam was so delighted to get a call from his commander I could hear his voice from three feet away. “No kidding? It’s really you? How the hell are ya?”

“More important, how are you?”

“Doing okay. Cole says to tell you reception sucks in the lower part of town, where we’ve been for the past hour or so. We’re headed up to Pub Na Mehelic now.” He gave Dave directions, which he passed on to me.

I rolled down the window. As cold as it was, Jack had been banging his paw against it for the past ten minutes. Now he shoved his head through the opening, his tail slamming rhythmically into the seat between Dave and me to demonstrate how delighted he was. And why wouldn’t he be? Skofja Loka emerged from the night like a gingerbread town, its quaint old buildings and narrow streets reminding me of something out of Grimms’ fairy tales. Which, I reminded myself sternly, often ended in murder.

Mehelic’s was a two-story, white-painted structure with the broad dimensions of a barn.
Wow, they take their drinking seriously here,
I thought as I parked in the small lot west of the building. Eventually I realized the second story was an art gallery, at which point all the wine they pushed on the first floor made a lot more sense.

I left Jack in the car. “What can I say?” I told him when he gave me a pitiful stare. “People don’t want dog hair in their martinis.” We left the window cracked, locked the doors, and headed toward the intricately stenciled front door.

“Aw hell,” I said as I walked through, looking back to see if Dave had the same reaction.

He was shaking his head in disbelief. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

I had to nod. Our ears were not deceiving us. Somewhere within the depths of the pub, Cole was singing.

I edged farther inside, hugging the brown paneled wall in the hope that he wouldn’t see me right away and demand that I join him. Fat chance. The place was as open as a high school gym, with tables covered in yellow vinyl marching in neat rows toward the empty space at the back of the room where Cole stood. Since the place offered no stage he stood on a chair. Crooning into an unlit candle. No microphone. No karaoke machine. Just Cole, belting out the words to Lionel Richie’s “Endless Love.”

“Two hearts that beat as one/Our lives have just begun,” he sang. Then he saw us.

He jumped off the chair, Cole style. Meaning he put one foot on the back and overbalanced it until it tipped gently to the floor, at which point he soft-shoed to our spot, where we stood in mute horror, unable to retreat because the bar, a long, scarred counter that made you think a few guys might’ve busted their heads against it in the past, blocked our escape. Behind it stood a gray-bearded bartender who seemed to be enjoying the show much more than we were. At least, I thought I heard him chuckle as I whispered, “How drunk are you?”

Cole grabbed me around the waist and danced a few steps with me before I could pull myself free. He said, “I’m as sober as a Baptist on Sunday! But now that you’re here . . .” He wiggled his eyebrows cheerfully.

“I thought you were going to keep a low profile!” I hissed. “You sounded so serious on the phone!”

“Well, I realized if this is the last day of my life, I didn’t want to spend it cooped up in a closet while I bit my nails and wished I’d taken the time to have at least one deep relationship.” He stopped, looked into my eyes. “Okay, I do wish that. In fact . . .” He pulled me into his arms, dipped me until my back creaked. But before his lips could descend to mine I slipped my hand between them. Which meant he laid a wet one on my palm. “Not cool, Jaz,” he said. “You’re always supposed to kiss the dying man.”

“You’re so full of shit,
I’m
drawing flies! Where’s Cam?”

He lifted me to my feet, nodded to the far edge of the bar. “Over there.”

“Where? I can’t. Oh.” Now I saw him. Well, his feet at least. They rested, upside down, on one of the stools where the bar turned a corner. Occasionally the feet waved back and forth, the heels nudging each other as if to remind themselves of a good joke.

I looked at Dave as he led us toward his sergeant. Every step he took seemed to draw him up straighter, snap his shoulders closer to his back. It was like watching him try on a new uniform. And it fit perfectly.

Upon stopping at the feet, we found the rest of Cam spread out on four more stools, enjoying a back rub from an attractive, brunette barmaid wearing snow boots, a plaid, knee-length skirt, and a white peasant blouse.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dave demanded, the command so prominent in his voice that we all came to attention, including the bartender and an older couple sitting at a table near the door. Luckily nobody else shared the room with us at the moment. I should’ve felt relieved. After all, we’d beaten Vayl and Disa to the guys. But Dave’s irritation at Cam made my stomach clench. This was no time for infighting.

Dave’s right-hand man hadn’t felt Cole’s need to avoid the sauce. The tankard in his hand sloshed ale all over the floor as he jerked sideways and rolled off the stools, still clutching the straw he’d been using to drink from it between his teeth. I would’ve had to check the instant replay to tell if he hit his butt. Because as soon as he caught sight of Dave he bolted upright, spitting out the straw, throwing the mug to one side as if it had grown spines.

He didn’t go so far as to salute, but Cam did say respectfully, “What was I doing? Well, I was availing myself of the local masseuse, sir.”

“Are you in the area on business?”

Slow blink, followed by a slight twinkle. Cam was beginning to realize his commander had slogged his way back from the brink. “Yes, I am.”

“Then am I correct in stating that you are representing your country by lounging on your face in a bar?”

Cam looked right into Dave’s eyes. He pursed his lips, glanced up and off to his right, as if he was solving a physics problem. “That’s about the size of it,” he said with a lemme-have-it grin. “In my defense?”

“As if there was one.” Dave snorted.

“Cole did say we might die today. So I thought, you know.”

“That you’d like to buy it without any kinks in your muscles?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yessir!” Cam pulled his shoulders back so far the buttons nearly popped off his plaid hunting jacket.

Dave sidled in so close that he and Cam literally touched noses. Cole and I had to move in to hear, which we did as a unit. It was almost like a tights-clad choreographer off to one side had begun a count. One, two, three, four, and shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, stop. Shut up. Gape a little but don’t interrupt. Because Dave is, by golly, on a tear.

He ripped Cam up one side and down the other. It took three and a half minutes. I timed it. At the end, Cam, who looked even more dangerous without a beard to hide his scars, could barely suppress a grin. But he managed to stare straight ahead as Dave finished.

“And if I ever hear you faced death with your ass pointed to the ceiling fans again, I will personally wrap your face around my fist and mail it home to your mother. You got that?”

“Yessir. Um, sir?”

“What!”

“There’s a vampire behind you. Actually, two.”

“You think I don’t know that? I’m a Sensitive, you dipshit!”

“Yessir.”

They don’t do “sir” in Spec Ops as a rule. Doesn’t really fit their MO. So I figured Cam had just set a world record. But I was glad he’d mentioned the vamps. Because I didn’t think Dave
had
sensed them. He was too pissed. Plus, he hadn’t developed his abilities the way I had. And
I’d
only just realized we had company.

Despite the fact that we’d been expecting them, Vayl and Disa brought a hush to the room. Part of it was their powers. When they struck you at low boil, like now, you just felt as if you’d been joined by a couple of movie stars. But, unlike the real masters of stage and screen, they weren’t regular people underneath all the glitz. If you ran up to them for an autograph, who knew? You might get a soul-shattering kiss that ended with blood on your lips and the feeling that your world had just tipped sideways for good. Or you might get your chin torn off.

Most of it was Vayl. He stood with his feet spread, hands on his hips holding back the heavy coat he wore to reveal a pair of faded jeans and a black silk shirt that made my mouth water. He exuded personality. It practically jumped from his dancing eyes, his smiling lips. Disa, standing slightly behind him, said something that made him laugh out loud.

Cole leaned over and whispered, “Is Vayl high?”

Cirilai had quieted since its initial attack, giving me time to study them both closely.

Looking at her, understanding now what kind of power she can bring to the table, I can practically smell the
kedazzle
she’s pushing at him. Could it be his resistance has finally worn to nothing? Or is he truly buying this setup? Either story would explain why Cirilai fubarred me.

I rubbed my left hand with my right and tried to figure out what to do next. Then Disa stepped apart from him, and I felt a glimmer of hope.

Because she had his cane.

I was certain she’d given it to the psychic Erilynn, so that she could read Vayl’s past, and his future. But now that I saw it in her hand, I realized Vayl must’ve been close to the mark too. Shield or weapon, she meant to use it to her advantage. So if I could get it away from her . . .

Disa held the cane like Vayl had when we’d first met her, ramming the tip into the floor as if she was claiming new territory. She twirled it back and forth, her long fingers caressing the blue jewel that topped it in a way that struck me as obscene. The tigers that adorned the wood of the sheath looked wrong to me. Then I realized they were caked in a dark substance that filled in what should be finely carved edges. I didn’t need a lab to tell me what it was either.

I pulled Grief, transforming it to vamp-killer mode as I strode forward. I figured the direct approach would work the best. Grab the cane. Take Disa down. Hurt her bad enough that she begged to be released from Vayl. It wasn’t a pretty plan, but I could see it working.

Disa took me by surprise. She raised the cane, said,
“Interri lakkirm tradom!”
and Cirilai struck, spiking into my hand like a deck nail, taking me to my knees.

“Let her be, Disa!” Vayl strode toward me. Lifted me to my feet.

“Keep her away from me, then,” Disa replied. Her pout would’ve been more comfortable on a four-year-old, which is maybe why it dissipated so quickly. But her power, damn, that was fully mature. At least now I knew what had hit me during the battle.

“Wait a second! You knew about the fight with Samos!” I accused her.

“Of course. No one comes through my borders without my knowledge.”

“So you twisted Vayl’s power through his cane into his ring just when I was at my most vulnerable. You nearly got me and Dave
killed
, you piece of shit!”

She gave me one of her careless shrugs, topping it off with an evil smile as I lunged at her and Vayl stopped me.
He’s mine now,
she mouthed as he grabbed me around the waist with one arm while he buried the fingers of his other hand in my hair. He pulled me to his chest and lowered his lips to my ear. “Trust me,” he murmured so softly I could almost believe I’d imagined it.

But Cassandra had urged me to follow that same course earlier. So hard to do. Just let go of your fears and totally believe. Especially when you’ve been burned so badly that the scars still wake you up at night.

“Vayl! How did you find us?” It was Cole. Sounding über-pissed. Vayl pulled upright, though he still held me in the crook of his arm.

“It is the most amazing technological breakthrough,” Vayl enthused. “It turns out your phone emits a satellite signal that my phone can pick up and locate on its internal map when I punch in a code given to me by the company that made them. The operator was most helpful after I, how do you say, turned on the charm.”