The Thin? I asked. Or all of hell?
Soon there will be no difference.
Get out of my head, you parasite.
Or you will do what? Run to Lucifer and tattle? Even a woman with your courage knows better than to put herself near the Great Taker. No, there are only two ways to loosen my grip on you, lass. And I would suggest you pick the first. Because the second sees you in hell.
I wanted to respond with something clever. But all I could think of was, I’ll see you in hell , which was kinda what he wanted. So I stayed silent and wished Granny May could pull in a couple of reinforcements. Anything to push the ancient king away from the front of my mind.
Her image appeared behind my eyes, just like I remembered her when we were dressed for church. She stood at the top of her steps, wearing a dark blue pantsuit and sensible brown slip-ons. Her bag matched the shoes. I knew it contained a few bucks for the offering as well as coloring supplies for us kids and a crossword book for her. She liked to say that she heard the Lord clearest when the reverend was droning and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out eighteen across.
She said, I know of another one who can help. But you’re not going to like it.
I’m past the point of picky. Bring her on.
Gran moved aside, revealing Teen Me. From the amount of eyeshadow and blush she was toting, and considering she was hanging out with Gran, I put her age at right about fourteen.
I started to chuckle. Even more so when I sensed Brude’s spurt of fear at the realization that he was about to be set upon by an angry freshman who was old enough to play dirty and young enough not to give a crap how much it hurt.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Less than ten minutes later Ruvin and Tabitha appeared on the patio looking… mussed.
What the hell?
The backyard, recently the site of such a lively game of tag that we were still out of breath, transformed itself again as the boys squealed and ran to their parents, who stood beside the sliding-glass doors.
The rest of us joined them on the patio, each choosing a chair to fall into while the family enjoyed a second reunion. Vayl’s expression masked itself sometime during Ruvin, Laal, and Pajo’s bout of ecstatic hugs and kisses, watched somewhat indifferently by Tabitha. I wondered if she was jealous of their closeness.
Vayl seemed to have questions too, because I detected a hint of steel in his undertone as he said,
“Tabitha, I know you must be anxious to get your sons even farther from the warren. But we need to ask you a few questions before you go.”
She reared back her head. She’s gonna tell him where to shove it , I thought. And not because of the delay it’ll cause either. Something about the jut of her chin and the set of her shoulders told me she thought any form of cooperation spelled weakness. And at her size, she didn’t think that was something she could afford.
“My husband said you people were filmmakers.”
Ruvin put his arm around her waist and rubbed. His touch, like his expression, was enthusiastic. “What I said was that they told me they’d come from Hollywood to scout movie locations. Now, I know studio executives aren’t normally capable of doing what they did. But these people are special, Tabitha.” He jerked his head toward Vayl. “They have Gerard Butler on their side! Remember him in The Transporter
? He’s like a superhero!”
Oh. My. God. I cleared my throat. “Um, Ruvin? I believe you’re thinking of Jason Stratham.” Tabitha had an even better point. She jabbed a finger at me and Vayl. “They had weapons.”
“We’re American. Pretty much everybody goes armed there,” I lied, figuring my country’s reputation would back me up. It did. She took a moment to watch Laal leap on Jack, his little hands disappearing into the malamute’s thick fur as he patted him on the back. Pajo preferred bigger prey. He ran to Vayl, jumped onto his lap, and wiggled himself into the crook of my sverhamin ’s arm so he could gaze happily at the rest of his family.
Tabitha sighed. “What do you need to know?” she asked.
When Vayl looked up from Pajo’s grinning face, his eyes had lightened to gold with brown highlights. He blinked, the line between his eyes appearing briefly as he tried to refocus. He said, “We were just curious if the Ufranites told you why you were taken.” He glanced at Ruvin. “Stories are a weakness of ours.
You never know what will make a good movie.”
Tabitha shook her head, her thick hair barely shifting as she said, “They never said anything about that to me directly. But I heard our jailer talking to the woman who brought our food. She said this would show the shaman the true price of betrayal.”
“What do you think she meant by that?” asked Bergman.
“I have no idea. It almost sounded like kidnapping us was a punishment for the shaman. But we’re seinji.
We don’t even know any Ufranites.”
“Did you ever see the shaman?” asked Vayl.
Another head shake. “I demanded to see him. But the guard said a word I didn’t understand, and then he said, ‘As long as your husband is cooperating, you’ll be fine.’”
“What was the word you didn’t understand?” I asked her.
“Ylmi.” She raised her chin, as if daring me to fight. About what though? I decided she must be a real bitch to receptionists and fast-food workers. Then I realized.
Ylmi was the word in the dead guard’s amulet. Dammit, Cole, how long does it take to assemble a demon-bashing armory? We need your translating skills now!
Miles adjusted his ball cap while he traded a significant look with Vayl. So they’d both remembered the word too.
“What happened then?” I asked.
The sides of her mouth turned down. “I asked him what would happen if I didn’t cooperate. He laughed and said it didn’t matter. That Ufranite young would be feasting on my husband while he screamed for death by tomorrow afternoon.”
While the conscious part of me saw Laal pause in his Jack-petting to get a reassuring nod from his dad while Pajo tucked his head into Vayl’s chest, my inner librarian said, You have less than twenty-four hours to complete this mission. If you don’t succeed, people are going to die. You might blame it on an evil, no-faced gnome. But you know it will be partly your fault. She jotted the info on an index card and filed it neatly in a drawer the length of a tractor trailer.
Where have you been? I demanded. Granny May could’ve used backup when Brude was doing his mental manipulations before, you know.
She sniffed and shut the drawer. I’ve been organizing.
That’s no help!
She raised a slender eyebrow at me and tucked a stray curl into her French twist. You’d be surprised.
For instance, right now I’m compiling a list of every item you’ve ever heard, read, or learned about the Thin. If Brude wants to create a new hell based there, maybe something you know can alter his plans. That might send him spinning out of your head. Alternatively, knowing more about his species might help. You have no innate knowledge, so I suggest a session with Astral or, perhaps, Raoul.