“Why are you looking at me?” she asked. “I can fight.”
“You are the sweetest soul among us.”
“Which is probably why Kyphas wants you so bad,” said Bergman. He meant to be generous, I know, but his reward was a slap on the arm from me and a hail of frowns and shushes from everyone else. Even Jack turned his back on him. “What did I say?”
“Her name, dude.” I rubbed the back of my neck, like she was already out there, aiming some devilish weapon at us. Standing on tiptoe so I could see over the wall of the basement steps to make sure the coast was still clear, I said, “It’s almost like you’re summoning her when you say it out loud. She can hear it from anywhere. Right now she knows you’ve said it and, if she cares to look, she can see what spot you were standing in when you said it. So don’t say it.”
“Look? Into what? She’s got a crystal ball?”
I sighed. Why hadn’t our consultant taken just one Basic Paranormality class? “Do you give off heat?”
“Yeah.”
“Then all she has to do is look into something else that gives off heat. And assuming she’s scouting hell for allies, it shouldn’t be too tough to find a lava pit to squint into, now, should it?”
“Oh.”
Geniuses! They’re so great for the go-boom and the wireless yapping. But ask them one question about others and their brains turn to mud! I was about to let Bergman know exactly what I thought about the gap in his education when a new picture rose in front of my eyes. And I decided his positives might just outweigh his negatives. Astral was turning out to be real helpful.
I turned to Vayl. “The cat found a crossroads guarded by a gnome. He’s alert.” And wearing a spiffy blue uniform that includes a tail ribbon. Since when are gnomes into insignia and brass? And , I felt myself frowning, guns?
“He’s armed too,” I said. “It looks like the same kind of air-powered rifle we’ve seen most of the other burrow dwellers opt for.”
Vayl inclined his head. “Then it is time to prepare.”
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
As if we stood on a table spun by the same gears, Vayl and I both swiveled toward Cassandra. She looked from me to Vayl and back again. “Was there something—” She motioned toward the notcrete wall. “Do you want me to go first or…”
“We just assumed you understood how gnomes function,” I said.
She shook her head. “My area of expertise is in ancient languages and religions. And the gnomes have been around as long as my people, but they wrote nothing down about their god. And since their history is an oral one that they share only among themselves, I haven’t studied them at all.” I nodded. “All we really know is what we get from the outcasts who manage to escape before the community finds a way to sacrifice them. The gnomes call them kimfs and blow snot out one side of their noses after they say the word.”
“No.”
“I shit you not.”
Cassandra shook her head. “So hypocritical.”
“Yuh-huh. Anyhow, what you also didn’t realize is that gnomes only see a little better than moles. Some of our analysts think they’ve spent too much time belowground. Some suggest it’s a genetic malformation of the eye that could be corrected with surgery, or maybe even glasses. What matters to us is that if our little project here is successful, they won’t be able to retaliate if they see us, because we all pretty much look the same to them. Like we’ve all pulled stockings over our faces so the only details they pick up are eyeholes and nose bumps. But if they get a whiff of us they can follow us clear across the continent.
Because their sense of smell is almost as good as a bloodhound’s.”
“So”—Vayl nodded at her bag—“what have you got in there to help us out?”
“Why do you assume I’m carrying scent around with me?” Cassandra asked, somewhat defensively.
Vayl’s lip quirked. “Come now, Cassandra. I have seen you pull a tire patch kit from your purse.
Anyone that prepared is bound to have thrown in a supply of her favorite perfume.” She did a little sideways head bob, the kind you see on people who hate to admit they’ve just been caught in their own little obsession. She unsnapped the furbag and began rummaging around. “There’s nothing wrong with carrying backup supplies, you know. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve saved myself a trip to the store… Oh, here we go.”
She pulled out a bottle of Febreze.
Bergman took it from her hand and read the label. “Meadows & Rain.” He glanced at her as he spun the sprayer to on and did an experimental squeeze-’n’-sniff. “Not bad. Not my Axe, but fresh.” Cassandra resettled her straps on her shoulders and threw up her hands. “I know it’s strange, but right before David deployed, he asked me to bring him something that smelled like home, because he wanted to feel like he was with me while he was away. And this is what I use on my curtains between cleanings.
So I gave him a bottle to keep, and then I have this one to remind me that he’s smelling the same scent wherever he is.” She touched the blue plastic with an affectionate finger. “It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”
“Yeah.” Bergman nodded. “It does.”
I gave him a little shove. “I can’t wait until you fall in love. You are going to act like the biggest dork, and we’re all going to make unmerciful fun of you.”
To my surprise he grinned and said, “Okay.”
We took turns spraying each other. By the time we were done, all of us, including Jack, smelled like a feminine-hygiene commercial.
“Hurry up and get in there,” I told my boss, giving his cane a nudge with my toe to encourage forward movement. “Or else you’re going to have to braid my hair while we watch Bergman and Cassandra cavort around in a field full of flowers.”
“At least Jack is not trying to make love to your leg,” Vayl said.
“I can’t believe you brought that up.” I glared at Bergman. “I still haven’t forgiven you for drenching me in dog pheromones, by the way. So just watch your step inside. This could be the perfect setup for my revenge.”
“Hey, it worked out great!” Bergman squeaked. “You got a new best friend out of the deal!” I looked down at my dog, who smiled up at me, his days as the pet of an international criminal mastermind a distant memory. “You are pretty cool,” I told him. “But we’re about to go into a bad place.
So behave yourself, all right?” He bumped his nose into my leg, his substitute for a reassuring pat.
I took a better grip on his leash as we watched Vayl squeeze past the wiggly gray tunnel cover. Bergman and Cassandra followed, with me and Jack bringing up the rear. No way could I crawl through the gently sloping passageway while holding a gun, so I reholstered Grief. Its weight didn’t provide the usual reassurance. Because according to Astral’s video, the path opened at the crossroads, so Vayl would have to deal with the guard alone.
He’ll be fine.
My body, bent abnormally by the low ceiling, disagreed. It was like my aching back, my stiff neck, even my chafed knees, knew this setup sucked. But my mind kept fighting it.
He’s a vampire. What could go wrong?
Shut up, Brude!
Now what? I am trying to comfort you! Is that not what every good king does for his—
Knock it off! I took a deep breath. Wiped the sweat off my upper lip. Vayl’s not going to get his head blown off. And I won’t be buried under tons of earth. The ceiling’s in great shape. It’s probably held up for a hundred years.