Once Bitten, Twice Shy (3 page)

He left me alone to empty my trunk. I didn't. I sat on the bed, fished a pack of cards out of my bag and began to shuffle them. Blend, bend, bridge, over and over I shuffled the dog-eared pack until Evie's tears, my ghosts, Vayl's unintended insult and the immense suckage of the holidays, which I'd spent equally blacking out and melting down, receded beneath the steady thrum of the cards.

Vayl had draped himself across one of the couches when I came into the living room. All he needed was an ivy crown and some half-dressed bimbo fanning him with palm fronds between bites of grapes and he'd have been a dead ringer for a gorgeous Julius Caesar.

Aw, who was I kidding, he'd probably palled around with the man before Cleopatra showed up and ruined all their fun. I sank down on the couch opposite him, curling my feet underneath me. "Getting into character?"

"We are going to a $5,000 a plate charity dinner/dance. Our target has only invited the crème de la crème of society. He will expect both of us to behave with a certain amount of savoir faire."

"Let me see if I can translate your bullshit, um, I mean French. We're supposed to be a couple of big spenders?"

"Yes," he replied, raising his eyebrow a disapproving tick at my language.

"So who's the target?"

"A plastic surgeon of Pakistani origin. His name is Mohammed Khad Abn-Assan and he has either lifted, tucked or liposuctioned half of Hollywood. I understand several of his celebrity clients will be there tonight."

"And here I left my autograph book in my other purse. So what's the charity?"

"It is called New Start. It brings in millions of dollars a year, supposedly to pay for reconstructive surgery for child victims of disfiguring accidents."

"Cool. Only I'm guessing the kids will never see a dime."

"Highly doubtful considering the fact that Assan is diverting most of those funds into the Sons of Paradise."

"Whoa, hang on just a second. The Sons of Paradise? Are you telling me we're going to hit a financial bastion of the most extreme of the extremist terrorist groups?" Vayl nodded. "Awesome!"
Those assholes will be dining on sand and pisswater by the time we're finished with Dr. Bankroller
. "But you said they're only getting most of the money. Why not all of it?"

Vayl's eyes hardened, black obsidian even the most penetrating stare couldn't break. "Sources say he uses the rest to perform surgery on members of the organization who cannot afford to look like their Most Wanted posters anymore."

That got my motor running. "What a creep."

"The world is full of them."

"You're telling me. It's good there's people like us around to balance things out."

"What is this optimistic talk I hear coming from your mouth?" Vayl asked. "Are you Jasmine's evil clone, come to lull me into fluffy white thoughts so you can stake me in my sleep?"

"At best your thoughts are pink. Kind of like this carpet." Vayl's eyes lightened suddenly, a trait that will make you do a double-take if you're not used to it. The vamps I'd known before him didn't have that particular ability, but then it wasn't really fair to compare. Vamps have their individual gifts and weaknesses, just like humans. The one sitting across from me, for instance, wore his eighty-year string of successful missions like a mantle. He had infiltrated the most exclusive factions, beaten the highest tech security systems, faced the most powerful supernatural forces ever seen on earth and won. So why did he need me? After six months he still hadn't given me a plausible explanation.

"Anything else you want to tell me?" I asked.

"Assan has never before been more than a link in a chain. But as far as we can tell he has suddenly gained great power within the Sons of Paradise. We believe he has brought them a new partner, one with the money and clout to rock this country to its core. There is not much chatter about this person or persons, but when you listen to the whispers you hear scary things."

"You mean scarier than usual things?"

Vayl nodded.

"I don't suppose this partner has any Raptor markings on him?" The Raptor was a rising star on our potential hit list. Both Vayl and I knew we'd have to go after him eventually. His lethal mix of charisma and savagery along with rumors that he'd accepted fealty oaths from a dozen large nests, two covens of black witches in Scotland and several packs of Spanish weres had made him the subject of several of Pete's bulletins.

"Not so far." Vayl ran his fingers across the black cane that lay beside him on the couch. A museum piece, it had been hand-carved in India and was almost as famous around the office as its owner. A procession of intricately detailed tigers marched around the leg of the cane up to a gold band, which separated it from the multifaceted blue jewel that topped it. When you twisted the head, the tigers shot away from it, revealing a hand-hammered sword whose maker had been dust for centuries. I hadn't expected to see the cane until the party. It was unusual for Vayl to carry it with him here, where he should've felt safe. Where I'd felt pretty cozy myself. I sat up straighter and looked around the room.

"What aren't you telling me?" I demanded.

"We are going to have to be very careful. Assan has powerful friends. And…"

"What?"

Vayl shook his head. "Just keep your eyes and ears open. Something about this feels… wrong."

And that was really saying something, coming from the C.I.A.'s number one assassin.

Half an hour later I'd rediscovered my femininity. It's fun occasionally, sort of like an archaeological dig without the sweating. I stood before the bathroom mirror resembling the pale, regal daughter my mother would've preferred, wondering how I was supposed to hide my modified Walther PPK, which I called Grief, underneath material that clung like an obsessive ex-boyfriend.

I'd gone for an oriental look and discovered the red mandarin collar and short, half-moon sleeves suited me fine, especially with my hair pinned up and swirled around the way I'd seen it done in Cosmo. Fake diamonds dangled from my ears, and though no one could see, they matched my belly button ring perfectly. The hilarious bit was that Pete had been the one to give it to me.

His face had slowly flooded with color as he'd handed me the case. "I understand this is an appropriate item for your, uh, I mean that since you've got that, uh, piercing—"

"What's it do?" I'd asked as I'd taken the case and pulled out a faux diamond stud.

"It's a homing device," he'd said, obviously relieved that I hadn't made him stutter through the whole setup. "You activate it by breaking the gem off the post. If you don't have a way to keep the gem on you once it's signaling, it has been tested safe on the digestive system, so you can swallow it."

Oh goody
. "What happens after it's triggered?" I asked.

"We have a team standing by in Miami. Once they receive the signal, their orders are to try to contact you and, failing that, to coordinate a massive search and rescue."

So, with my jewelry firmly in place, I gave myself one last critical look. I'd been careful with the eyeliner, so my eyes looked larger, greener, more soulful than usual. I had fine, fragile features that fooled almost everyone I met, a real advantage in my line of work. And the fact that my body leaned harder towards bony than athletic didn't hurt either. My legs were by far my best feature. They occasionally peaked through the side slits of my calf-length, red satin skirt. I wore red, low-heeled sandals I could actually run in, and I'd chosen a sequined handbag to match, so that's where I finally stowed my weapon.

When I came out, Vayl's bedroom doors were still shut. I rapped on one.

"Yes?"

"I'm going scouting. Back in thirty."

"All right." I took off to find the address on our cleverly faked invitation.

Diamond Suites was situated about fifteen minutes from Assan's location. The Lexus purred under me like a snoozing lioness as I drove there, but I resisted the urge to wake her up on the Interstate. Pete's blood pressure tended to spike when he thought I'd done any excessive spending, and I figured he'd stroke out if I showed up with a speeding ticket on the way to a location.

I took a leisurely tour of Assan's digs, trying not to gape too much at the enormous, brilliantly lit mansions fronted by country club style landscaping. The lawns were so well manicured you could've used them for putting greens. What a hoot if Dave and his buddies had lived here, because they actually would have. I could imagine them all, full of that eighteen-year-old cockiness you wish guys would never lose, drinking Albert's beer and calling their shots like it was a game of 8-ball.

I spared my twin one more minute, wondering what part of the world held him tonight, hoping he was okay. Like me, Dave's pretty high up the hush-hush ladder. Like me, he'd started in a different part of the Agency, but now he's a Special Ops stud, so he spends the majority of his time overseas. It's an excellent excuse not to keep in touch and we use it like a dust rag. If we were careful we'd never have to speak to each other again. A hell of an accomplishment for people who used to complete each other's sentences.

"
Enough,"
I told myself, "enough, enough, enough—" I bit my lip, stopping the loop with pain.
You're working Jasmine, so work. Focus on the work. The work will keep you sane. At least in everybody else's eyes
.

I took a deep breath and let it out with a laugh when I saw the fancy, scrolled metal sign on the gate in front of Assan's house. Anything with an entrance right out of Jurassic Park and enough fencing to contain a herd of brachiosaurus demands a name, and Assan had chosen Alpine Meadows. Without a mountain in sight. Nor were there any cute Austrian kids running around singing "Do, Re, Mi." Who was this guy really kidding? The name might trigger thoughts of "Sound of Music," but it looked like "The Haunting of Hill House."

Driving on, I discovered the area contained more dead ends and cul de sacs than a game of Clue. But I did find a couple of quick routes out just in case the boogers hit the blender. I cruised the neighborhood five more minutes, soaking in the ambiance, picturing myself looking like I belonged inside one of these six-bedroom, 4 1/2 bath monstrosities. Then I went back for Vayl.

I didn't see him when I pulled into the parking lot, but I could feel him waiting for me. Although it was more than that. It's an extra sense, one I've only had since… well, for about 14 months. And I'm not the only one who's fascinated by it.

During our first mission together, Vayl had admitted part of the reason he requested our pairing was the fact that I can smell vamps. Not literally. Still, it's almost a visceral scent, something near the back of the nose and just behind the eyeballs that whispers
immortal
to the base of my brain. Different vamps make me react different ways, but that's the basic idea.

We'd been stalking a renegade named Gerardo, who the Italian authorities had asked us to bag before he decimated yet another convent. Apparently he'd run through so many in Europe that he'd felt the need to emigrate. Having trailed our quarry to the hushed halls of the Monastery of St. Bernadette in Oregon, we hoped the sisters had enough brains to keep themselves barricaded in their cells and that my inner alarm would sound before one of them needed to escape for a quick pee.

"Do you feel anything yet?" Vayl had asked.

"Nope. And I'm not sure it would help if I did."

"Why not?"

"It's not like I could give you coordinates. The Sensitivity doesn't work that way. Best case scenario, all I know is he's in the same room as us."

Vayl had stopped me, his hand so warm on my shoulder I would've suggested a trip to the emergency room if he'd been human. "I believe this gift is just the tip if the iceberg, Jasmine. If we nurture it, develop it, I think you will be amazed to discover what lies deep beneath the water."

Ironically, that was where we found Gerardo, hiding under the lily pads in the fountain behind the abbey church. I'd seen vamps fight before. Fought beside them, in fact. But Vayl surpassed them all. He attacked Gerardo with the ferocity of a starving crocodile, his lips drawn so far back from his teeth I could see his rear molars without squinting. They both fell back into the fountain, slamming the statue of Bernadette that stood in the middle hard enough to make her wobble.

When they emerged, blood bubbled from a huge gash in Gerardo's shoulder. He broke free of Vayl's grip and tried to jump out of the water. Vayl caught him halfway and he fell hard on the concrete rim. Like a lion on a zebra, Vayl latched onto the back of Gerardo's neck, the look in his eyes just as fierce and nearly as primal. Suddenly I knew why the Romans had packed their coliseum on a regular basis. I wanted to roar with approval. My gladiator was kicking ass, baby.

A sound to my right distracted me. A nun shuffled out of the shadows. I ran toward her. "Sister, you need to leave. This isn't something you should see," I said.

She'd jumped me almost before I realized she smelled undead. But the newbies are sloppy. Lack of training, maybe, or an overabundance of hunger. My crossbow bolt pierced her heart before she could even form a decent snarl. When I looked back at the fountain, Vayl stood alone as well. We'd smoked both our vamps without sustaining any major personal damage. Always a cause for celebration.

Vayl had pointed to the little bits of ash and dust that had fallen where the nun had stood moments before. "That is why you must hone your skills."

Six months later I hadn't made a helluva lot of progress. While I often felt like yanking my hair out by the roots, Vayl maintained his cool. He just kept saying, "We are missing a vital link in the chain. When we discover what it is, you will rocket forward. But that does not mean you should stop trying."

So he continued to throw training ops my way, and since I wanted to keep my job, I kept cooperating.

I looked around the lot, wishing I could ping some sort of radar off him. After all this time, I still hadn't figured out how to narrow my search. I'd learned only that if I paid attention to the awareness, it might alert me when he moved. Leaving the car running, I turned off the headlights and turned on the night vision. It was easier than it sounded.