That sobered them up. James looked up at me, both chins shaking slightly as he demanded, “Why do you hang withothers like that psychic? She’s an abomination in the eyes of God, you know.”
Aaron piped up, speaking more to his buddy than to me. “What aboutthis freak?” he said, jerking a thumb toward Vayl. “I mean, look how it’s working its mind control on us right now!”
“You sound like a couple of brainwashed little ruffians to me,” I told them in my let’s-read-a-nursery-rhyme voice. “I’m guessing Mommy and Daddy have made it clear to you that the human race is by far superior to anyother , and therefore you should feel free to damage their property and treat them like dirt every chance you get. I’m guessing they went so far as to buy you the eggs and give you directions to our place. Am I right?” I leaned over and looked hard into the brats’ faces. They couldn’t believe how I’d figured them out on such short acquaintance.
“Where are they?” Vayl asked grimly. When he didn’t get an immediate reply he bellowed, “Where?”
James and Aaron both pointed shaking fingers over their shoulders. Eventually we deduced that their fathers were parked in the hate-crimes van near the marina. Vayl put his dripping sheath back where it belonged and we escorted the boys, along with their eggs, to the real scene of the crime.
Generally Vayl’s power feels like a calm arctic ocean, mystic blue with countless tiny waves on top and an icy cold current running beneath. But as we followed the boys, I decided any decent sailor with my increased Sensitivity would agree the bottom had just dropped out of the barometer and we were in for a helluva blow.
“Um, Vayl? Are you sensing how I’m feeling right now?” I murmured. Usually I want him to stay clear of my emotions. Like continents away. But at the moment . . .
“No.”
“Well, pay attention.”
I allowed myself a small sigh of relief to see not a spark of red in his eyes when they met mine. After a moment he asked, “Why are you concerned for me?”
“Because I know what I do whenI’m too pissed off to think straight. And the aftermath is never pretty. So I’m thinking maybe you should not follow your first instincts when we speak to these boys’ fathers, because tearing their arms off and beating them over the heads with them is not going to solve the ultimate problem.”
“Huh.”
Oh God, he was even beginning to sound like me.
However, he did not pull a typical Jaz move when we arrived at the van. He walked over to the driver’s side as the boys took refuge within and stood patiently until the man rolled down his window. I took my place by the passenger—a guy with the pasty, sagging features of the perennial couch squatter.
“What do you want?” demanded the driver. Maybe he felt safe because of his size. He certainly filled out his powder-blue blazer, and if he had a neck, it was squatting behind his thin black tie.
“I want to know why you felt it appropriate to send your son to damage my property,” Vayl said in his I’m-about-to-lose-it voice. It can be deceiving to those who don’t know him because it’s so soft. Almost unassuming. But when people get next to it, and ignore it, generally they can count the remainder of their lives in breaths.
Since the driver was a stranger to Vayl’s more dangerous moods, I expected him to make up some bullshit story about how one of the boys had lost his wallet and they’d just driven them back to the festival so they could try to find it. At nearly three a.m. On a Monday morning. Maybe he knew how lame that was going to sound, though, because he said, “Our boys are doing God’s work and we are proud of them. Psychics are no more than witches, and they are an affront against God.”
“An affront,” my fella agreed.
“What’s your name, fella?” I asked him.
“George Velestor,” he said.
“You ever formed an original thought in your life, George?”
He looked at the driver.
“Apparently not.” I kept talking because Vayl’s power had spiked, and I figured if I didn’t do something quick, we’d soon be dealing with a van full of Popsicle people. “What’s your name, driver?”
His glance took in my hair, boobs, eyes, boobs, and then eyes again. I wondered how many people would miss him if he quietly disappeared. “My name’s Dale Spizter, ma’am.”
“You married, Dale?”
“Sure am.”
“Then keep your damn eyes off my chest.”
His head jerked away and I thought I heard the boys snicker. Vayl opened the door. “What are you doing?” demanded Dale.
“Get out.”
“I will not.”
Vayl’s voice rang with cold, hard power. “The four of you will exit this vehicle and precede us back to the RV.” His face might’ve resembled a mask to our guests, but I could see the muscles in his jaws working, the vein in his forehead throbbing. Not happy signs.
Like good little puppets, they jumped to it. The men, however, looked like they expected to be struck down from above at any moment. They drooped even farther when we reached our destination and mustered up a couple of bowls full of soapy water and some paper towels. Vayl set up the lawn chairs, invited Cassandra outside, and the three of us watched them clean up the mess they’d made. He’d also brought out a flashlight, so she got to point out the spots they’d missed. She found quite a few.
I thought Vayl had taken enough satisfaction from this revenge until he stood and started pacing. I couldn’t take my eyes off that cane, digging deeper and deeper gouges into the ground with every other step.
“We’re done,” said Dale. He dropped his wad of paper towels in the water and rolled the sleeves of his suit coat down.
I stood up. “Fine. Get out.”
“No. I have a few words to say,” he announced.
They always do.
“Dale, maybe we should go,” said George. I liked him better when he was echoing my opinions.
“God has brought us here for a reason, George,” Dale said in that singsong TV-preacher voice that makes my molars ache. “We must uphold our responsibility to hiyum—”
I felt the power winding up in Vayl and suddenly understood where blizzards begin. I also knew clearly why my guy needed anavhar . If he killed these men in front of their sons, beyond the obvious tragic consequences, he’d be doing irreparable damage to his own soul. Both my instinct and a sudden heat from Cirilai told me so.
I strode forward, planting myself firmly between Dale and mysverhamin . “Dale, you are so far out of line that if this was a NASCAR race you’d be in the grass. I’m not going to argue philosophy or religion with you. Think what you think. I really don’t give a crap. But here’s the deaclass="underline" Standing behind me is a vampire who’s quite capable of icing you like an Alpine ski slope. He is deeply pissed that you’ve insulted his Seer. But she’s a grown-up and he’ll eventually get past that.”
I closed the distance between us because Dale had puffed out his chest and begun rocking from foot to foot, starting his little I-am-the-man dance before I’d even finished. I slammed him hard in the diaphragm with the heel of my hand, backing him up, taking the strut right out of him.
“Listen up, asshole,” I hissed. “Because what I’m about to say may just save your life. My boss here is trying very hard not to rip a great big hole in your throat, but more and more he’s thinking, ‘Why the hell not? Here’s a guy who thinks nothing of sending his son, who should be more precious to him than his own soul, into mortal danger. Aaron will probably be safer if I just kill his father now.’”
I looked at George. “Same goes for you and James, Xerox.”
Aaron came up to me and grabbed my arm. “Please”—his desperate glance went to Vayl—“please don’t kill my dad.”