“Because if there were, we would have been attacked by now.”
“Oh. Well, if you don’t mind, I’m still going to set up the security system I brought for the RV. Just in case the pack is back at the watering hole.” On a snide scale of one to ten, I’d say Bergman had just hit a 7.5, which meant he was one scared puppy. I held my breath, waiting to see if Vayl understood Bergman would chill as soon he’d put the system into place, or if he’d take offense, in which case I’d be spending the rest of the night soothing ruffled feathers. Not my strong suit, which was why it would take so long.
“I approve your plan,” said Vayl, watching with one eyebrow slightly cocked as Bergman threw the pens in the Dumpster and headed back to the RV. Luckily he had no idea Vayl was broad-casting his I’d-love-to-knock-your-block-off expression. Cassandra seemed to have more of a clue. After a moment during which she considered Vayl with a look of mounting alarm, Cassandra followed Bergman. She caught up to him within fifteen seconds and moments later they were deep in conversation.
The rest of us stared down at the two bodies. Finally Vayl said, “Cole, call the office. I believe it would be best if our people disposed of these. There is no need for it to become common knowledge that Jasmine knows how to kill reavers.”
Capital idea, Sherlock. Let’s not make them think they have to terminate me before I have time to organize a How-to-Stab-a-Reaver Workshop.
Cole nodded and took out his cell phone.
“Hang on,” I said. I bent down and slipped the two-faced man’s watch off his wrist. At the guys’ puzzled and somewhat grossed-out glances I said, “I wouldn’t ask Cassandra to touch the body, or even this, if I could help it.” Psychics had been known to lose their minds when they came into contact with the belongings of known murderers. “But if we get desperate, we may ask her to touch this. See what it can tell her about this monster, where it came from and why.”
Vayl said, “All right, but only if we must.”
CHAPTERSIX
I’d gotten into a bad habit while staying with Evie, Tim, and E.J. I blamed it on the baby. If she’d slept through the night even once I wouldn’t have needed multiple naps to make up for the 2:00 a.m. feedings. (Tim and Evie had taken all the other shifts, so I shouldn’t complain. But I did anyway.) During the three weeks I stayed with them, I’d developed the ability to fall asleep anytime, anywhere. Waiting in line at the DMV. On the floor while Evie and I played with E.J.’s toys and pretended it was all for the baby’s benefit. Once on the toilet.
I hadn’t quite shaken the habit by the time we’d reached Corpus Christi. As soon as we entered the RV and I felt this immense exhaustion creep over me, I figured I’d better grab forty winks before somebody caught me snoozing on the crapper.
“Do you want to discuss tonight’s plan?” asked Vayl.
“Yeah, absolutely, but you know what? I need to freshen up first. Give me five minutes?”
“Take all the time you need,” Vayl said gently. “We will finish the tent while you recoup.”He’s not really being nice. He just wants me fresh for later on. It’s going to be a demanding couple of hours. That’s what I told myself. But I still felt warmed as I went to the back of the RV, stretched out on the queen-size, and almost totally avoided thinking about how big and empty it felt.
“No more beds for me,” I murmured into the pillow. “I’m switching to hammocks when I get home. Who could be lonely and depressed sleeping in a hammock?”
Jasmine, wake up!”
The hammock I snoozed in jiggled and swung so drastically I was either going to fall out or puke. Or both. I opened my eyes. Oh wait, never mind the hammock. I was still in bed. I checked my watch. I’d only been asleep for eight minutes.
“What the hell—?” I demanded irritably.
“Shush,” David hissed. “We don’t have much time. They’re coming.” Weird. I’d thought he was thousands of miles away, kicking terrorist ass somewhere in the Middle East. But here he stood, his urgency catching more easily than the chicken pox.
I jumped out of bed, knowing he was absolutely right. And I knew who “they” were too. A nest of newbie vamps and their surviving human guardians, all severely pissed that we’d killed their leaders, the ones we called vultures.
I followed him out of the RV, my eyes searching the empty beach and the swarming festival site. I couldn’t see them, but they were out there. Theirother ness combined with their evil intent to send waves of psychic stench ahead of them, making my stomach churn.
We conferred in front of the RV. “We have to lure them away from here,” he said. “Otherwise Jesse and Matt are goners.”
The thought sent a shaft of alarm through me. If either of them was hurt, I’d never forgive myself. Moving in concert, we ran west, across the last strip of grassy slope nobody had covered with some commercial venture. We jumped a low concrete wall and dove onto an undeveloped section of beach. Here the grass grew almost as high as our heads. We plowed through it, dodging mounds of trash, jumping the pilings from a crumbling pier that had been built for higher water. Soon we heard them behind us, stumbling, cursing, moving like a herd of buffalo. I actually thought we could outrun them. Then we emerged from the grass to find a swampy inlet blocking our forward progress.
We looked at each other grimly. Out of choices, we turned south, wading into the moonlit water of the Gulf, counting on it to slow the attack, give us more time to load and fire. Dave raised his crossbow. I looked at it with a pang. It had been Matt’s favorite, one he’d only recently abandoned. I pulled Grief from its holster and thumbed off the safety. True to form, the humans appeared first, sprinting into the clearing between the grass and water as if they too had expected a more protracted chase.
I mowed them down like ducks at a carnival.
The vamps came more warily, spreading out in the grass, surveying the battlefield, yelling directions to each other. I pushed Grief’s magic button and—presto change-o—my gun transformed into a miniature crossbow.
David and I stood shoulder to shoulder, expecting a rush, trying to keep our minds empty so our training would kick in when the time came. What we didn’t expect were the two vamps who came strolling toward the edge of the water, holding hands like creepy Hansel and Gretel. They seemed familiar, though I couldn’t make out their faces at first. I could, however, smell the blood. They’d been freshly turned, which was why they’d been unleashed on us. Nothing fights harder or dirtier than a newborn vamp.
“Oh my God,” Dave moaned, dropping his crossbow.
“David, don’t—” I followed his eyes to the approaching vampires. His wife, Jesse, and my Matt stood gazing at us, their faces set in that flat, otherworldly look that signals the loss of a soul.
“Matt,” I whispered.
He heard me. Of course, he could hear ice cubes melting too. “Jasmine.” The way he said my name, as if it was a foreign language to him, broke my heart.
“We shouldn’t have left them.” Tears coated David’s words.
“They should’ve come with us,” I said, my voice curiously harsh and unforgiving in my own ears.
“It’s your fault!” David turned on me. He grabbed Grief from my hand. Pointed it right at my forehead.
Inside, a part of me broke. And I knew nothing he did or said could ever fix it.
Another part of me thought how remarkable it was that, after all those who’d tried to kill me so far, my twin would be the one to finally get it done.
“JASMINE!” Startled, I looked back toward the beach. Bergman, Cassandra, and Cole huddled together there, like they needed each other’s body heat to keep from freezing to death. Vayl waded into the water. The whites of his eyes made a shocking counterpoint to the blacks of his irises. I’d never seen him so shaken. He held out a hand that trembled ever so slightly as he said, “Please, Jasmine, please, give me the gun.”