Pointing to the bedcover I asked, “Have I been bitten by mites and fleas and crap?” As I asked, my midsection began to itch uncontrollably. I jerked my shirt down and scratched until the urge stopped.
Except it didn’t disappear. It moved to my thighs. Then my back. Arms. Behind the neck…
“Jasmine,” Vayl asked grimly, “is the first-aid kit still in your weapons bag?” Half an hour later, fresh from the shower, covered in calamine and a ratty pink robe I’d found in the master-bedroom closet, I stared glumly at Vayl as he sat on one edge of the living room’s plain brown sectional, spinning his cane between his fingers. Too keyed up to join him, I left my spot by the fireplace’s narrow mantel and, followed faithfully by Jack, paced around a block of polished walnut that worked as the room’s centerpiece and its coffee table. The only lovely item in the house, it threatened to scrape my shins every time I turned the corner. Astral stared at me from its center, having taken her place there as if so offended the homeowners hadn’t provided some sort of decoration for it that she’d decided to temporarily volunteer her services.
Why is it that the things I find most beautiful are always the most dangerous?
The table, which would scar an awkward toddler or break an old woman’s hip, was the perfect example. All the demons I’d dealt with were gorgeous. And Vayl, who’d benefited from one of God’s better moods, only had to look at me with those wide, you-touch-my-soul eyes, and I totally forgot that he craved my blood like a junkie needs meth. Could take it too, whenever he wanted, if he ever decided to veer off the civilized track.
“And you have no idea when this began or why?” he asked.
I shrugged. Now that my whole sex-distraction-plan had caved like an old grave I could confess that I’d been possessed. That the rash had to be related. But he’d bolt, leaving me with a single week of heaven to cling to as I tried to keep my head above the massive whirlpool of sewage that was my life.
Unacceptable.
Maybe he won’t—
YES, he will!
Whose voice was in my head now? Mine? Or… “Maybe it’s stress related,” I said, rubbing a knuckle against the sudden pain in my eye. Geez, maybe I should see an optometrist when I got back to the States. “That vacation was doing me a lot of good. We don’t just work, you know. We work our asses off. Lay our lives out there day after day…” Wow, no way could he be buying this bullshit. Could he?
I stared around the room. Two chairs sat at the walnut block’s non-couch corners, extras from the dining table made comfy with tie-on red plaid cushions. Behind them, lining the wall like a mini-kitchen, a series of kiddie appliances in bright pink plastic invited the younger set to come in and play. And what a choice. The fridge, stove, sink, and table came complete with fake pots, pans, food and, quite possibly, dirty dishcloths laced with salmonella.
Good grief, brighten up, will you? You’re not dead yet! Granny May chided me.
Sure thing. Say, I’ll make with the cheery if you step off your porch. Because I’ve never seen you there before and I have to say it’s kinda bugging me.
Silence.
I thought so.
I hunched my shoulders against the intensity of Vayl’s gaze. “Say something,” I demanded.
His eyes narrowed and did that color transformation that usually made my heart go ka-wow! This time it practically stopped. “Jasmine? What is—”
The front door slammed open and Cassandra rushed in, followed closely by Bergman and Cole.
“I’ll build the circle!” Cassandra yelled. She pointed a double-edged short sword I hadn’t realized she owned at Cole and said, “You secure all the entrances. Bergman!”
“Yeah!”
She yanked the chairs to the wall by the fireplace and shoved the walnut block beside them, leaving a clear spot in the center of the room. “Fill Jaz in so she can see if Astral has any ideas.” As Miles nodded and Cassandra dove for the bedroom, Cole paused long enough to say, “Nice getup, Jaz. What are you, the Ghost of Christmas Alcoholic?”
I looked down at the robe, which, okay, maybe it was a little on the Betty Ford Clinic side. But I couldn’t help my lotion-covered legs. Could I?
“What is going on?” Vayl demanded, gripping his cane by the middle like he’d be banging heads with it if he didn’t get some quick answers.
Bergman ticked off the facts on shaking fingers. “Jaz has an unexplained rash. You’re angry about something. And I can’t believe I let Pete convince me not to set up an alarm system.” He began to mimic our supervisor—badly. “It’s not that kind of mission, Miles. All you need to do is bring your phenomenal brain and a few—”
“Bergman!” Vayl’s voice, deep as a roll of thunder, shoved him back on track.
He seesawed his hat until I thought he’d rubbed all the skin off his forehead. Then he said, “Okay. We were just driving away from Crindertab’s when Cassandra’s demon crossed the street behind us. Cole liked the looks of her and slowed down. That’s how we saw. She grabbed one of the old men who’d left at the same time as us. Pulled him right out of his car. I don’t know what she said to him, but when he shook his head she”—Bergman blinked really fast and practically twisted his mouth sideways to force back the tears—“she punched her fist up through the bottom of his jaw and ripped out his tongue.” Vayl let his cane ram the floor. “Evil bitch.”
Bergman nodded, rubbing his hand across his mouth as if to confirm that all his parts were still there.
“Cassandra screamed, and that’s when the demon recognized her and tried to grab her. So Cole backed the Wheezer into her. She went flying and we booked.”
“Wait,” I said, holding up both hands. “You called her Cassandra’s demon. You mean this is the same one she summoned to kill the scumbag farmer who raped her? The demon she broke the contract with over five hundred years ago and has been ducking ever since?” We all looked at Cassandra, who’d stepped into the hall to listen. She gulped. Nodded.
And I thought I had problems.
CHAPTERFIVE
Vayl, an island of calm among three adults running around like they were about to be hit by an asteroid, asked the most pertinent question I’d heard yet. “Where is the demon now?” Bergman said, “Hopefully she’s still rolling on the road in front of the post office.”
“Astral, I want to see that demon. Now.” I snagged the kittybot and threw her into the yard.
Huh, she landed on her feet. Nice. Too bad we can’t lock this door anymore though. We could be toast before that cat figures out what it’s even chasing. Maybe we could block it with, say, a tank?
“You’re sending RAFS into that kind of danger? Already?” I hadn’t thought it possible, but Bergman had turned a paler shade of glue.
“She’s mine now, and it’s her job,” I told him flatly.
I watched his Adam’s apple bob a couple of times and gave him time to nod acceptance before I asked,
“How is it possible for Cassandra’s demon to be here? She wards herself against it every morning.”
“You were supposed to ask Astral that question,” Cassandra snapped as she ran back into the living room, trailing an armful of sheets, her sword held awkwardly out to one side. Since I’d spent some time studying demons I knew what she meant to do with the bedding. Jack suspected a game and grabbed a trailing end. Bergman just thought she’d lost it.
“This is no time to protect our deposit!” he shouted. “If blood gets all over the carpet, let it!” She shook her head. “Start making knots. Rope would be better, but I don’t want to waste time looking in the garage for something they probably don’t have anyway. We need enough to make a circle around all five of us.”