“Honestly, Aine, this is the best possible scenario for us. Eryx only gave me one other option to Disa’s death, and though we were following it, I knew it was going to make Vayl utterly miserable.”
“When did you see Hamon?” asked Dave.
“I was having visions of him,” I said. “Every time I came across a big puddle of blood, there he’d be.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“It didn’t really seem like something a sane person would be experiencing. So . . .”
Aine said, “He came to me inside the mask as well.”
“And now?” I asked. “Is he . . . gone?”
She nodded. “He and Octavia both. And the mask”—she looked back at it, now lying in pieces on the floor—“it is shorn of its powers. We will have to find a new way of governing in this Trust.”
Aine was looking at Vayl now, and I could see the invitation in her eyes. He must have too, because he began shaking his head before she could get the words out. “My place is in America with my avhar. But first”—he looked at Cole and Cam—“yes. Perhaps a trip to my homeland. I believe it is finally time to tie up some very old loose ends. And then I will be able to search for my sons with a new heart.” His eyes came to mine. “One that has made room for all kinds of love.”
Vayl said more. And Cole made some comment, an angry one I thought, since his hair waggled and spit flew, but my mind began roaring as soon as I heard the word “love” spoken in that possessive tone of voice Vayl only gets when he’s talking about what matters to him most. Usually he reserved it for conversations involving his boys. Now he’d added me to the mix.
It’s okay. Don’t panic. This is a good thing. Like winning the lottery. With fangs.
Inside my head Granny May was cackling like a hen as she waved her hands, dispersing all the other in-dwellers to their appointed places now that the worst of the danger was over. As I glared at her, waiting for her to whip out the hanky and dry the at-my-expense tears, she shook her head at me and snorted, You sure can pick ’em, Jazzy. Hey, for an encore, I’d be highly entertained if I had a hobbit for a great-grandchild.
You pipe down, Gran. I can easily dream up an old-folks’ home for you. One that doesn’t serve macaroni and cheese or apple pie.
My mind filled with silence. It wouldn’t last. Already I could feel the niggling fears that Samos had made too good of a deal with his devil. Cole still needed his answer. My dad’s attacker wouldn’t lay low forever. And I might do something phenomenally stupid to lose my chance with Vayl.
I met his amber eyes, my heart skipping a beat as they crinkled at the corners.
Or not.
Acknowledgments
This has been the most difficult book to write so far, and it wouldn’t have ended nearly so well without the support of my husband, Kirk, who is a constant source of quiet strength. I’d also like to thank my editors, Devi Pillai and Bella Pagan. Funny how one question can open up a whole new perspective on a character’s world. Deep appreciation, as always, must go to my agent, Laurie McLean, the great folks at Orbit, and my precious readers Katie and Hope. To the citizens of Patras, please accept my apologies for feeling free to rearrange your architecture. Rest assured I put it right back where I found it after the novel was finished. And to you, my awesome readers, so cool to have you here! Wait till you see what I’ve got in store for you next!
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Meet the Author
JENNIFER RARDIN began writing at the age of twelve, mostly poems to amuse her classmates and short stories featuring her best friends as the heroines. She lives in an old farmhouse in Illinois with her husband and two children. Find out more about Jennifer Rardin at www.JenniferRardin.com.
introducing
If you enjoyed BITTEN TO DEATH,
look out for
ONE MORE BITE
Book 5 of the Jaz Parks series
by Jennifer Rardin
May 18, 6:00 p.m.
“Jasmine, do not pull that gun.”
Vayl spoke in a voice so low even I could barely hear him, which meant the people in the worn gray seats next to the bathroom door where I stood still had no idea what I meant to do.
“I’m gonna kill him,” I growled. My fingers tightened on the grip of Grief, the Walther PPK I kept stashed in the shoulder holster under my black leather jacket. I couldn’t see my intended victim at the moment. Vayl had set his hands on the edges of the doorframe, spreading his calf-length duster like a curtain, blocking my view. But I could hear the son of a bitch, sitting near the front, chatting up the flight attendant like she was the daughter of one of his war buddies.
“You do understand what a bad idea this is, do you not?” Vayl insisted. “Even discussing pulling a gun on an airplane could bring the passengers down on you like a mob of after-Christmas-sale shoppers.” He fixed me with warm hazel eyes. “I would hate to see you beaten to death with that woman’s boot.”
He jerked his head sideways, directing my attention toward an exhausted traveler whose fat rolls drooped over her armrests like just-kneaded bread dough. I glanced her way, and as people will do when they feel eyes upon them, she looked back at me. For a split second her pink cheeks and heavy-framed glasses swam out of focus. A lean, dark-eyed face sneered at me from beneath her shoulder-length perm. It said, “Are you certain you know my name?” I squeezed my eyes shut.
You’re dead, Edward Samos. I saw your smoke fade into the night. I ground the bits of ash and bone you left behind into the dirt of the Grecian countryside. So stop fucking haunting me!
I turned my head so that when I opened my eyes they fell on Vayl’s short black curls, which, I now knew, felt like silk under the fingertips. And his face, carved with the bold hand of an artist whose work I’d never tire of.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Yeah, sure. For some bizarre reason I’m seeing the last bad guy I assassinated on innocent people’s faces. I can’t stop thinking about my boss in a totally unprofessional and yet vividly exciting manner. And, at age twenty-five, I am still unable to escape the man who made my childhood pretty much a misery from start to finish. I’m just dandy, thanks for asking!
I picked the part that bothered me least and let loose. “You’re the one who allowed my father to come along on this assignment. I told you it wouldn’t work. I warned you that blood could be shed. But did you listen?”
“I rather thought you would wait until we had landed in Inverness.”
“Who brings baby pictures on an international flight?” I hissed. “If I’d wanted my bare ass paraded in front of all the first-class ticket holders I’d have mooned everyone before we took off!”
Vayl knew better than to tell me the pictures were adorable. Then I’d have had to kill him too. “Look into my eyes,” he said.
“What, so you can hypnotize me? No thanks.”
He shook his head. “We both know my powers have a minimal effect on you. Come now, my pretera. Humor me.”
“What’s a pretera?” I muttered.
“It is a Romani word, meaning wildcat.”
“Oh. In that case . . .” I locked stares with the guy who’d started out as my boss and ended up . . . well, that remained to be seen. But the possibilities had begun to make my skin steam. “I can’t believe this is happening.”