One More Bite (17 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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“Yeah?”

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

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

“Yet, I would not trust my—”

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

“Anything.”

“Don’t ever die.”

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

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

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

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

“I must,” he breathed, his voice husky with desire.

“Why?”

“Because we have company.”

Chapter Eighteen

When I was sixteen Albert caught me making out on the front porch with Sheldon Anderson. We’d have been okay, except every time he leaned me against the side of the house, my ass hit the doorbell. After about eight rings Albert came to the door, Bud Light in one hand, Louisiana Slugger in the other.

Sheldon kind of disappeared after that. Something I wished I could do now that I found myself surrounded by a group of Connies dressed as the shades of outlaws and serving maids who, once they realized they had our attention, gave us a hearty round of applause.

“Hear, hear!” they yelled. And, “Hi, ho to Lady Snake Killer!”

I felt myself go bright red as I tried to crawl off Vayl and under the nearest chair. Vayl, his chest heaving with suppressed mirth, cooperated very little. Which meant my hair tangled in one of his shirt buttons and I had to yank it free before I could move more than a few inches. Then my leg caught in a fold of his coat, causing me to fall on my butt. “Stop laughing!” I ordered. “We’re supposed to be pros, remember? You? Me? World’s greatest ghost busters?”

Of course, by that I meant America’s finest assassins. But I could hardly say that in front of the dispersing crowd, a few of whom still stood close enough to eavesdrop, as proved by the fact that a tall, lanky man with a fringe of gray hair that started under his nose, curved in both

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directions down his jaw, and worked its way clear around his head leaned over the row of chairs in front of us to say, “I thought you were more than just ordinary Connies.” He stuck out a longfingered hand decorated with two turquoise rings the size of robin’s eggs. “How do you do? My name is Thomas Hoppringhill.”

“You’d better shake his hand.” I nodded to Vayl. “Mine seems to be stuck to the bottom of this chair. I think somebody spilled a Coke on the seat and didn’t clean the underside.” As the guys greeted each other, I worked my fingers free and checked out the brown sticky I’d picked up. Ick. When I retire from this gig I’m going to work somewhere sanitary. I’m even putting that on my résumé. No blood. No guts. No dropped sodas. Maybe I’ll buy one of Humphrey’s jewelry stores.

Hang on. Why do I need a Band-Aid? Where did I cut my pinky?

The chair was the one Rhona had fallen from. A tiny white jewel had been cemented just under the seat. The smudge of red next to it proved its guilt. This little diamond had ripped my finger open. The question was, who the hell had put it there in the first place? And why?

I wanted to explore this curious development further, but I could hardly crawl around the wreckage when Thomas was explaining that the castle had been in his family since it was built. Admiration must be paid. And rightly so. Geez. The Parkses owned a few relics, but nothing as major as an entire building. In fact, nobody I knew even wanted their grandparents’ old homeplace. I liked his family’s commitment. But I hoped they hadn’t sacrificed too many of their own dreams t†nobo keep the ancient stone giant alive.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” said Thomas as he sat down and tossed one tweed-covered leg over the other. “You are in the business of ghost release?” He laid his brown-jacketed arm across the back of the chair next to him and waited patiently as Vayl rose to his feet.

“Indeed,” said Vayl. He introduced us and handed Thomas our business card. “We hope to make several new contacts at the convention, which we greatly appreciate you hosting.” I regarded my boss with that sense of awe that stole over me at the oddest moments. He could be the most polite gentleman you had ever met one second, and turn around and tear your throat out the next. Of course he only killed bad guys now. But before he’d come to America in the twenties, he hadn’t been so picky. I liked a guy who could make that kind of change.

“And what was that stuff you sprayed on the snakes?” Thomas asked me.

“We use it in our business all the time,” I said, hoping a great lie would come to me as I stalled for the time my brain needed to switch from sticky diamonds to snakicide. “It’s a special pressurized chemical mix Jeremy invented that helps us to—” Nope. Nothing. I turned to Vayl.

“Well, Jeremy, it’s really your baby. Maybe you could explain it better than I could.”

“It allows us to detect whether or not a ghost frequents an area so that we can decide where best to set up our recording equipment. We spray the foam on the floor and it picks up spectral footprints.”

Cole laughed in our ears. “Spectral footprints? That’s the best you could come up with? Dude, they don’t even wear real shoes! Oh, there you are, Iona!”

While I was glad he’d finally found our lost groupie, I kinda wanted to box Cole’s ears. Mostly because I couldn’t pull that stunt on myself for forgetting he could hear our every word. But also because only our backup boy could put that pinched expression on Vayl’s face. Neither of us could act, however, while the Laird of the Castle held court.

“How fascinating!” Thomas said. “You know, I can’t thank you enough for disposing of those vermin for me. Rather out of your line, but you still dealt with them quite handily. Perhaps I could

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introduce you to some people who would appreciate your services?”

Vayl and I traded appropriately excited looks. “That would be wonderful,” I said.

“But first, I’d like to hire you myself.”

“Oh?” Shit! Run, Vayl, run!

“As you’ve seen, the Highlander and the stocky old ghost, whose name in life was Aodh Hoppringhill, are a real danger to our guests. This is the first time they’ve drawn blood, but I fear it won’t be the last. And those snakes. I cannot imagine which one of my ancestors brought them forth, but its shade must be dealt with as well.”

We nodded politely, though I had to swallow hard when a giggle tried to let loose. Bad timing, I realize, but I’d just had the thought that, Damn, when you own a castle you deal with an entirely different class of pests, don’t you? And then I imagined Thomas setting out these Hummer-sized bait traps for the critters that plagued him.

He was saying he’d rather not exorcise his hard hitters. “Many of my visitors would shun me forever if they heard I’d done such a thing. But your card says you lay shades to rest. That would be ideal.”

Vayl said, “I am afraid we are in the middle of another investigation, having encountered a mysterious walker at Tearlach—”

“Ah, yes, Floraidh told me about her new ghost. She said it appeared in the kitchen?”

She’s a quick worker, isn’t she? Haven’t seen her talking to Thomas here, which means she must’ve called him from her car. Or maybe her bedroom before the fake skinny guy even made his entrance.

“Yes, that’s where we saw it,” I agreed.

“It will be a great boon to the area’s tourism industry. Now we can list her bed-and-breakfast on the Haunted Scotland Web site. Of course our registrants will want to include Tearlach on their GhostWalk tours, which should bring Floraidh a nice income for the week. Bless her, she works so hard to keep that old house running, I’m happy something good has happened for her. Are you enjoying your stay there?”

“Oh yes, it’s quite a place,” I said. “But you talk like this incident won’t shut down the convention.”

Thomas smiled, revealing a set of teeth as gray as his hair. “Far from it. Despite their initial panic, our attendees will already have turned this moment into legend.” He shrugged. “That’s how it is with Connies. Now nothing could make them leave the convention before the closing ceremonies.”

Wow. Sometimes people are so stupid. “I guess you will have to count us among them,” Vayl said, giving him Jeremy’s tight-lipped smile. “We would not miss a moment.”

“And you’re sure I can’t talk you into dealing with my issues?”

“Perhaps after our investigation at Tearlach is complete,” he said gently. “It should only take a day or two.”

A thought hit me. “Actually, I think your real problem is not the Highlander or Aodh Hoppringhill.”

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Thomas raised his eyebrows expectantly. Crap, now I had to think really fast. Because I hated people knowing about my Sensitivity. And I was pretty sure that was the reason I’d been able to See into the Thin. I held up my hand, let him see Cirilai glittering on my finger. “This is actually a monitoring device Jeremy invented that picks up incredibly faint spectral readings and sends them to a wire”—I showed him the receiving end of the party line wrapped around my left ear—

“that translates phantasmic signals into our language.”

“What kind of bullshit are you shoveling out?” asked Cole.

Vayl’s raised eyebrows wondered the same, but Thomas was glued. “Through these I was able to overhear a commander shouting out orders. It seems to me your two ghosts are under his thumb. So he’s the one you want to get rid of. And I’ll tell you right now, just locating him is going to take more equipment than we currently carry. You’re going to need a real hard hitter. Find the best in the business and tell him to go after a ghost—or whatever he is—named Brude.”

“Brude.” Thomas thought for a minute. “Of course. There are three or four different kings named Brude in our histories, but the most famous of them ruled over these lands for about thirty years before he was killed in battle. Quite a hard-handed man, but he kept the people safe from marauders.” Thomas shook his head. “Well, it’s time for him to rest.” Thomas rose and stuck out his hand. “Thank you for your help. Now, if I can just find someone to dispose of these creatures.” He shook his head at the pile of snakes cluttering his great hall.

I said, “Can I suggest a specialist? Animal control? Somebody like that? Those are venomous snakes, and if someone were to accidentally poke themselves, they might still be poisoned.”

“Good idea,” Thomas said, motioning to a couple of his employees. They came forward to cordon off the area while two others decided it was high time the Connies who’d escaped to the front hall, and the great room prisoners who hadn’t, got reacquainted. They opened the big doors, giving us insiders a chance to trade stares with the fringes of the outside group. They had a hard time meeting our eyes. Many of them dove deeper into the crowd. Since they were the ones who’d physically closed the doors on us, I could see why they didn’t feel like a reunion just yet.

“What are you two doing now?” Cole hissed into our ears. “I have six hysterical women with me discussing how badly they want hugs and then giving me pouty lips while Humphrey demands an ice pack and an apology. From who I don’t know, since he’s the jackoff who started it all. I don’t want to play nice!”

I did some mental math. “So Viv came out of the bathroom?”

“Yeah, but when she got the full story she started freaking about the possibility of jail time for Rhona. Iona keeps telling her nobody saw, but she’s signing so loud she’s already hit three different people and we can’t just keep apologizing.”

“Sure you can. It’s the perfect time for people to be hysterical. I’d get Rhona out of the room though. Once folks start calming down a few of them are bound to remember the crazy lady with the gun. They’re probably going to want to lynch Humphrey too.”

“Jaz, this was not covered in Assassination 101! I’m not cut out for this!”

“And you want me to deal with it? You’re like the ambassador to Iraq compared to me.” I thought a second. “Are you telling me nobody out there seems disappointed that Floraidh’s not covered in bite marks?”