Another One Bites the Dust (27 page)

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 and
I
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 the
Constance 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.