“Let me in,” she commanded, holding my gaze. It might have worked before the battle. But already I had changed. The Sensitivity had kicked in and vampires could no longer hypnotize me. I aimed the modified Walther PPK Bergman had made for me at Jessie’s heart. I’d already disabled the safety. Pushed the magic button. The bolt I sent into her chest flew true. I held her eyes until the very last moment, but I’ll never know if I saw relief in them. Or if I was just wishing.
I looked at the gun in my hand as the smoke from my best friend, my late sister-in-law, wafted away in the cold November breeze and told it, “You give me nothing but grief.”
The clack of Vayl’s porcelain mug against the tile of the countertop brought me back to the present. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
I searched his face. “I’m wondering if it’s always right to keep your promises.”
“Yes.” He said it so instantly I felt stunned, as if he’d unexpectedly thrown something and hit me with it before I could catch it.
“Aw, come on,” said Cole, “not always.”
“Always,” Vayl insisted. “This is one of the reasons I have made you my
avhar,
Jasmine. A promise is a sacred bond, never to be breached.”
“You sound like a third grader,” Bergman said, adjusting his glasses as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Vayl made one of those irritated noises unique only to him. Like a huff, but more masculine. “Perhaps because children know how important trust is. Only when they are repeatedly betrayed by adults do they finally give up believing they can ever find it in even a single person.”
These were the times I liked Vayl best. I could’ve set my chin on my hands and just watched him talk for hours. Usually I didn’t see squat behind that statuelike facade. The only peek I often got into the turmoil of emotion that I suspected he barely kept in check was the changing hues of his remarkable eyes. But every once in a while the mask would crack and I’d see how important he thought it was, not just to be human, but to be good. Hokey, I know, but the dude’s nearly three hundred. He’s allowed.
“What?” he asked me.
“I don’t know. I . . . I guess I’m glad you feel that way. It makes me feel better about a promise I kept.”
“Good. Now, tell me what I missed today.”
Between the three of us, we filled him in. I finished with, “Something funny’s going on. Think about it. Those zombie reavers didn’t hurt a single one of us. All they did was get in the way of the new reavers. Is there any reason the Wizard would want to be helping us?”
“Oh, yeah,” scoffed Bergman, “he’s all about aiding and abetting his own assassination.”
“But —”
“I believe Bergman is right, Jasmine,” Vayl put in. “The Wizard wants us eliminated. End of story.”
Yeah, but . . .
I itched to take the picture of the Wizard Pete had given us out of the pocket of my tunic and study it for the hundredth time. Something about
it
bothered me too, but I’d never say that out loud. Dave and his team would probably get medals for discovering that priceless bit of intel along with the cell phone number whose intercept had ultimately led to this mission. As they should. So who was I to say that the man with the graying beard and wide, brown eyes who stood before a tall green door with his arms around his wife and smiling daughter reminded me more of my sweetheart of a neighbor, Mr. Rinaldi, than any of the mass murderers I’d ever encountered? I’d be the first to tell any group of innocents never to base your trust on looks.
Okay, so no dice on the Wizard
.
“Then what about the Magistrate?” I asked. “Why all that hocus-pocus with fake Matt?”
“You don’t like the trapping Raoul theory?” Cassandra asked.
Not when you pair it with the weird zombie reaver theory
, I thought, but since that had already been shot down I just shrugged.
“I do not see how it matters since you have found a way to protect yourself from detection,” said Vayl.
Yeah, but I’m not going to be happy washing my forehead with holy water every morning while praying. I mean, God and I . . . I guess we’re on decent terms. But we don’t talk a lot. I’m sure every time he hears me pray he does a double take. So the morning baptisms just seem . . . hypocritical. And irritating. I’m going to need to figure this one out.
Apparently now would not be the time, though, because Vayl had other things on his mind.
“Tell me more about this Seer,” he requested. So we went back over the visit from Soheil and Zarsa. This time I added my impressions while Vayl listened intently, sipping from his mug as we spoke.
“I must visit this Zarsa,” he decided. “Does she speak English?”
Cole thought about it while Cassandra gave me an intent look that said I’d better be having a private chat with her soon. “She didn’t while she was here,” Cole finally said.
Vayl’s brows lowered. You could see his desire to talk to a Seer war with his need for privacy. Desire won. “You must come with me, Cole.”
My teeth tried to clench, and while I was making my jaw relax my hands curled into fists. “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” I demanded.
He shrugged. “Clean Grief? After I return, you and I will attend to our other business.” Meaning we’d scope out the café where the Wizard would, according to the late werejackal, be celebrating his birthday with several close male family members tomorrow.
Though I wanted to argue, the wild wiggling of Cassandra’s eyebrows forced me to press my lips together. “Fine,” I said. I couldn’t help adding, “As long as you’re handing out assignments, what about Cassandra and Bergman? Any interesting jobs for them to do while you’re gone?”
Vayl, within minutes of exploring the depths of a new psychic’s powers for news of his lost sons, remained blissfully immune to my sarcasm. “Actually, yes. I thought the idea of a shielded
other
within our midst was rather brilliant. Perhaps the two of you could work on a way to reveal that shield, or lower it, so we could at last pinpoint our partners’ betrayers.”
Bergman, the buttons of his bland brown shirt practically bursting from Vayl’s compliment, jumped off his chair. “We’ll get right on it.” He was halfway out the door when he turned back to Cassandra. “Well? Are you coming?”
“Of course.” She nodded at the men, gave me a get-your-ass-in-here stare, and said pointedly, “We’ll be in the girls’ room.”
Vayl clapped Cole on the shoulder as if they were headed out for a beer. His sudden camaraderie, coming on the heels of so much suspicion and even downright jealousy, made me want to demand a DNA test. Or at least stand up and yell, “Stop acting so damn weird!”
“Ready?” Vayl asked.
“Uh, are we going to have to pay her?” Cole wondered. “Because I lost most of my money playing poker.” A lie. He had, if anything, come out a couple of bucks ahead.
“Ah, yes, compensation,” Vayl said. “I will be right back.” He practically skipped out of the kitchen.
As soon as Cole was certain he couldn’t hear us he whispered, “Vayl and cheerful do not mix. It’s just creepy.”
Yeah. And depressing. Because it’s for the wrong reasons
. I realized
I
wanted to put that dimple in his cheek. His eyes should always be hazel. I liked it when he twirled his cane like he was leading a really great band. And all that would disappear the moment Zarsa told him she couldn’t See Hanzi and Badu any better than Cassandra could.
“Pay close attention to what happens in there,” I told him. “There’s a reason this feels wrong.”
“Speaking of which, I really need to talk to you.”
“Okay.” I’d been expecting this. Should’ve sought him out sooner. Because now that the two of us were alone, he’d let his guard down. And the pain stood clear on his face. “What’s up?” I asked softly.