“Zarsa says my sons are here. In Tehran!”
“She . . . she does? But I thought you were supposed to meet them in America.”
“So did I. And she says they spent time in America. But they are here and she told me she could take me to them!”
“When?”
“After I bring her over.”
I felt like someone had cut open my chest and poured ice water directly onto my heart. “She . . . wants to become a vampire?”
“Yes.”
Cirilai began to burn on my hand. But I didn’t need the ring to warn me how close Vayl stood to disaster. And how none of us who cared for him could avoid the fallout if this backfired.
“How long does something like that take?” I asked.
“The longer the better. Ideally it takes a year. But with the proper preparations we can do it in a week.”
“Have you already, you know, taken her blood?”
“No, not yet.”
“Ah.”
Vayl suddenly seemed to focus. “You do not seem pleased. I thought you would be happy for me.”
“Well, sure. I mean, finding your boys is vital to you. And I want that for you. When nobody has to get hurt in the process.”
“I will not hurt her.”
“Do you mean before or after you kill her?”
“She has asked for this!” he thundered.
Another sure sign Vayl had gone over the edge. He so rarely raised his voice that when he did I jumped in my seat. Now doubly pissed, I didn’t bother to keep the irritation out of my voice when I asked, “Since when does a Seer require such a massive payment for such a small service?”
Vayl jumped to his feet. “This meeting means everything to me!”
I stood too, wishing I was taller so I could go nose to nose with him. “Which is exactly why you’re completely off square! Don’t you think if your boys were in Iran Cassandra would’ve told you?”
“Cassandra is useless! Look at her! She cannot even find the mole!”
Complete silence as we both realized she must have heard us. Vayl stalked out of the house, slamming the door so hard behind him the panes in the side panels broke. The crash of glass brought Bergman to the doorway.
“I’ll get a broom,” he said, heading back into the kitchen.
“Leave it,” I called. “He broke it. He can damn well clean it up.” I trudged after him, thinking,
That went so well, I should become a diplomat. Then they could assign me to some political hotbed like, oh, I don’t know, Iran, and hey, maybe I could get the whole world blown up!
“I’m not going to make any excuses for him,” I said as I walked into the room and caught Cassandra dabbing tears from her eyes with a cloth napkin. “That sucked what he said about you.” I caught her gaze. “Grief can make you crazy, you know?”
She nodded and gave me a crooked smile.
I sat on a stool. It creaked as my butt came down on it. If anything, I’d lost weight in the past few weeks. I kept forgetting to do lunch. But it reminded me of how I’d missed my morning run, and would continue to until we left the country. How the hell did women stay in shape around here?
For a while I just stared at my hands, clasped in front of me as if they alone were praying for an answer.
“Have you ever seen Vayl like this before?” Bergman finally asked me.
I shook my head. “But I haven’t even known him a year. In vampire time that’s like a couple of seconds.” I watched Cassandra absently stroke the Enkyklios. I asked her, “When a person goes to a Seer with a request like Vayl’s, what’s the typical payment?”
“It depends. For the Sisters in my Guild, we request only a contribution to the Enkyklios.”
“You mean, a story.”
“Well, not just any story. One that would add to the knowledge of our world and the creatures that inhabit it.”
“So most of your Sisters have day jobs?”
“Yes. We have found, over time, that to use the Sight for personal gain is a good way to lose it. So we must be careful who benefits from our visions and why.”
“Did you hear what Zarsa wants in return for her visions?” Cassandra and Bergman both nodded. “So what do you make of that? Is she even the real deal?”
Cassandra shrugged. “I can’t say without touching her. And since I met David, that probably won’t work.”
I decided to change the subject. “I met a man tonight. Okay, not a man. Something
other
that snuck right up on me. His name is Asha Vasta and he says he’s Amanha Szeya. He knew my name and Vayl’s, and he knew about Raoul. Frankly, the only reason I let him go was he promised me we’d meet again.” I sighed. “He’s obsessed with Zarsa and I’m not going to be able to let this thing with Vayl go. So we’ll probably be falling over each other in the dark for the next few days while we try to figure out how to stop their idiot plan.”
I felt a sudden, unreasonable surge of anger at my father. It was his fault I’d been given this damned assignment. If not for him, I’d never have known I was capable of stalking my
sverhamin
.
Rein it in, there, Crazy Horse. It’s not really stalking. It’s more just following him to make sure he doesn’t cause himself or anyone else — me, for instance — permanent damage
.
Are you sure?
The inner bitch was at it again, demanding the full truth whether I wanted to face it or not. She leaned over the bar, showing so much cleavage you could’ve planted a shrub down there, and said,
Admit it, toots. The thought of him sinking those lovely fangs into her neck, resting his lips against her velvet skin, drives you nuts. And the idea that he would turn her, link her to him for all time, makes you want to scream. That’s a permanent blood bond, baby. All you’ve got is a measly little ring and the blood equivalent of a couple of one-night stands
.
“Anyway,” I said quickly, “do me a favor and find out what Amanha Szeya is. I’ve gotta go find (
not stalk!
) Vayl.”
Chapter Fifteen
In another life, in another world even, Vayl would’ve been a spectacular teacher. It’s not enough for him to know. The longer we’re together, the more I realize he can’t help himself. He’s got to share what he’s learned. And since I’m usually the only one around, I’m generally the beneficiary, like it or not.
Often it’s been not.
There was the time he decided my table manners lacked a certain, shall we say, appetizing flare.
“Did you just burp?” he asked me one evening as we sat at a table covered in white linen and real silver.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Wine gives me gas. Plus it tastes like road kill. Don’t they serve any beer here? There’s the waiter. I’ll ask him.”
“No! Jasmine . . .” Vayl caught the hand I’d raised and lowered it quickly to the table. “Obviously we need to talk.”
Thus began an intense month of table etiquette lessons and, right along with them, my growing loathing of eating in restaurants. Thanks to Vayl I can fake my way through a seven-course meal alongside an army of French food critics without raising a single suspicion that I can’t wait to run home, throw a burrito in the microwave, stuff it down my throat, and fart my way through an episode of
South Park
.
My latest, and by far most appreciated bout of training, had involved a much more valuable skill. From the start, Vayl believed my Sensitivity would allow me to find and follow vampires. On our last mission he’d proved himself right. I could track reavers too. Presumably, as I developed my abilities, I’d be able to sense and find even more
others
. That’s what I hoped, anyway.
I don’t think he ever believed I’d use my ability on him, at least not in this way. But here I was, stalking (no, no, sneaking — like they taught us to do in spy school) down the streets of Tehran, chasing his scent and hoping it wouldn’t lead me to Zarsa.
It didn’t.
It meandered around for a while, turning back on itself once or twice, making me think he had no particular destination in mind. He was just trying to walk off some steam. I got a great tour of the city, which included some lovely frescoes, a major boulevard that reminded me of downtown Chicago, and a building so ancient I could actually feel the history radiating off its arched doorways and crumbling columns. At last Vayl’s path straightened, headed north.