On second thought, if this sucker broke up I intended to leap onto Vayl’s shoulders. If he had to travel all the way to South America with only his eyebrows above water, so be it. I gauged my distance, got ready to jump, and in the meantime, grabbed hold of the edge of the boat and held on tight.
Bergman said, “Vayl? Can we do one more test of the equipment?”
“We just did one on the dock,” Cassandra protested.
He gave her a dirty look. “It might function differently when we’re surrounded by water.”
Itwas a dandy little system wherein wires, kindly sewn into our collars by our resident psychic/needlewoman, bounced some sort of wave off surrounding objects. A machine Bergman had wired to the boat then translated those signals. Ideally it would keep us from getting caught by wandering guards while we installed the surveillance cameras. We each had five of the little gadgets in our pockets, none bigger than a Tic Tac. Is it a bad thing when you need a magnifying glass to examine your examining equipment? I’m thinking maybe.
Vayl’s job, besides keeping our getaway boat buoyant enough to ferry us back to shore, was to monitor the monitor. If someone was coming, he would contact us via mouth-mint, or as Bergman liked to call it, wireless oral transmitter. We each wore minute hearing aides that allowed us to receive the communication in barbershop quartet bass, while preventing us from looking like we’d spent way too much time dancing by the speakers at a KISS concert in our intrepid youths. Vayl could also receive our messages, though we’d been cautioned against blabbing any old time we felt like it. Enhanced hearing is a common vampire trait and Vayl thought maybe we should leave any stray bad guys who might be listening out of the loop.
“You know, I could probably get us all talismans that would do the same job,” Cassandra said casually, glancing at Bergman out of the corner of her eye. My God, she was baiting him! Didn’t she know better? Especially with him wired to blow any moment, now that his invention was in the hands of a psycho? The potential for disaster suddenly spiked to orange, the same level you get when you tell a group of prom queen candidates their shoes don’t match their dresses.
Bergman’s face looked like he’d just stuck it in a vacuum-pack machine. His cheekbones may have actually touched. Concerned that if he lunged for her he would either fall out of the boat or knock a hole in the bottom, I leaned forward and patted his knee. Hard.
“She’s kidding, Bergman. Your inventions are essential to us.”
“I was not kidding,” Cassandra mumbled.
Holy crap, what has gotten into her tonight? It’s the pirate outfit; I just know it. “Cassandra,” I mumbled back, “I know you’re, like, a millennia older than me. But trust me, this is not the time for a magic versus machine debate. Bergman is not a cat you want to poke with a stick right now.”
“Not even a little?”
With my lips still burning from my recent vamp teasing I said earnestly, “Not even.”
“Jaz, look.” Cole pointed to Chien-Lung’s yacht as we pulled up beside her. Big black letters spelled out the name “Constance Malloy.” “I didn’t expect that, did you?”
“Hmm. A Chinese vampire on an Irish yacht. Nope, I wouldn’t have thought it.”
Vayl maneuvered us to the back of the yacht, which opened nearly at the water’s level. Cole tied us on and the three of us unloaded right there on the mini deck. Straight through a set of glass doors we saw metal tables and benches, the crew’s mess, no doubt. It looked about as comfortable as the cafeteria at St. Mary’s Medical Center in Cleveland. At least it had a view.
Two ladders on either side of the doors led up to the main deck. I was just considering the wisdom of running up one and taking a peek when I caught a scent that made me wrinkle my nose.
“Company coming,” I whispered as I took the last cooler from Vayl.
Moments later a Hollywood-thin Asian vamp wearing a purple suit, ruffled white shirt, and shiny black shoes emerged from the glass doors as if walking onstage. Cassandra, Bergman, Cole, and I exchanged glances. Were we supposed to applaud?
“Youare late,” he fussed, running his pinky across his forehead, where his thin black hair traversed it on its way to the opposite ear. He spoke to Cole, which pissed me off. Why is it that the jerks always assume the good-looking guy is in charge?
“Sorry about that,” I told him. I stuck out my hand, which meant I released the handle of the cooler. As expected, he caught it instantly, but he was not happy to be touching the menial’s equipment. I shook his limp fist hard enough to make him wince. And he could’ve broken my back without breaking a sweat. Theoretically at least.
I went on. “The oven caught fire while we were baking the cheese puffs and it took us forever to put it out. You know how cheese likes to burn.” I smiled, letting go of the other handle to adjust my bandana. Oops! Now he held the entire cooler. He put it down and wiped his hands on his violet slacks.
He looked down his nose at me, not an easy feat considering I had him by a good five inches. “I know nothing about cheese,” he said. As I began to speak again he held up a hand. “Moreover, I wish to know nothing about cheese.”
Moreover? Who says that?“What a lovely outfit,” I said, pouring every ounce of sarcasm I could muster into the statement. “Where did you find such a stellar suit?”
He totally missed my undercurrent as he began to preen. “Oh, this old rag? I just picked it up at a little men’s store called Frierman’s. The tailor there is a genius. But then, you don’t look as if you could afford his wares.”
Okay, this guy is obviously color blindanda social leper. I may have to kill him now . “If you would just point us to the kitchen?”
“You mean the galley?” he asked with a superior little sniff.
Cassandra slid in front of me before I could act on my brilliant plan to tie an anchor around the twit’s neck and toss him overboard. She shoved a box in his hands and picked up the cooler. “If you would be so kind,” she said.
He swished toward the doors, followed by my crew, with me lagging behind. Vayl cleared his throat. I glanced over my shoulder. He made three short gestures that clearly meantGet in. Get out. Don’t screw up . I made a gesture of my own that was also quite clear. Unfortunately he took me literally and I think I left him in a state of rising excitement.
The twit led us through the doors into the crew’s mess. Beyond the tables a stainless-steel counter separated the dining area from thegalley. “What a lovely kitchen,” I said as the twit scowled at me and Cassandra hid a smile. I opened the fridge, checked out the cabinets. “Very . . . organized.”
The twit set his box down on the counter. “Chien-Lung is quite particular about cleanliness,” he told me sternly. “Please see that you straighten up after yourselves before you leave.”
“Why certainly. We are here but to serve.” I gave him a bow with just enough angle on it to let him know if he ever hit the Midwest, nine of ten farmers would agree he had a cob up his ass. He sniffed and tossed his head, perhaps wishing he had long curls that would allow him to emphasize the huffy. He left through a large arched doorway at the other end of the galley. Having studied the plans of this particular vessel before we left, I knew he was taking a twisting ramp up to the main deck.
Together we unloaded the goodies. Vamps may not require delicious layouts of shrimp cocktail, bite-sized crackers topped with funky green veggies, and gallons of margaritas to survive, but they sure do relish them. (Hah! Pun intended!) By the time we finished, the galley resembled a behind-the-scenes Food Network show. I half expected an abnormally thin TV chef to step out of the broom closet and start breaking down the recipe for the mini kebobs.