"What aren't you telling me?" I demanded.
"We are going to have to be very careful. Assan has powerful friends. And…"
"What?"
Vayl shook his head. "Just keep your eyes and ears open. Something about this feels… wrong."
And that was really saying something, coming from the C.I.A.'s number one assassin.
Chapter Two
Half an hour later I'd rediscovered my femininity. It's fun occasionally, sort of like an archaeological dig without the sweating. I stood before the bathroom mirror resembling the pale, regal daughter my mother would've preferred, wondering how I was supposed to hide my modified Walther PPK, which I called Grief, underneath material that clung like an obsessive ex-boyfriend.
I'd gone for an oriental look and discovered the red mandarin collar and short, half-moon sleeves suited me fine, especially with my hair pinned up and swirled around the way I'd seen it done in Cosmo. Fake diamonds dangled from my ears, and though no one could see, they matched my belly button ring perfectly. The hilarious bit was that Pete had been the one to give it to me.
His face had slowly flooded with color as he'd handed me the case. "I understand this is an appropriate item for your, uh, I mean that since you've got that, uh, piercing—"
"What's it do?" I'd asked as I'd taken the case and pulled out a faux diamond stud.
"It's a homing device," he'd said, obviously relieved that I hadn't made him stutter through the whole setup. "You activate it by breaking the gem off the post. If you don't have a way to keep the gem on you once it's signaling, it has been tested safe on the digestive system, so you can swallow it."
Oh goody. "What happens after it's triggered?" I asked.
"We have a team standing by in Miami. Once they receive the signal, their orders are to try to contact you and, failing that, to coordinate a massive search and rescue."
So, with my jewelry firmly in place, I gave myself one last critical look. I'd been careful with the eyeliner, so my eyes looked larger, greener, more soulful than usual. I had fine, fragile features that fooled almost everyone I met, a real advantage in my line of work. And the fact that my body leaned harder towards bony than athletic didn't hurt either. My legs were by far my best feature. They occasionally peaked through the side slits of my calf-length, red satin skirt. I wore red, low-heeled sandals I could actually run in, and I'd chosen a sequined handbag to match, so that's where I finally stowed my weapon.
When I came out, Vayl's bedroom doors were still shut. I rapped on one.
"Yes?"
"I'm going scouting. Back in thirty."
"All right." I took off to find the address on our cleverly faked invitation.
Diamond Suites was situated about fifteen minutes from Assan's location. The Lexus purred under me like a snoozing lioness as I drove there, but I resisted the urge to wake her up on the Interstate. Pete's blood pressure tended to spike when he thought I'd done any excessive spending, and I figured he'd stroke out if I showed up with a speeding ticket on the way to a location.
I took a leisurely tour of Assan's digs, trying not to gape too much at the enormous, brilliantly lit mansions fronted by country club style landscaping. The lawns were so well manicured you could've used them for putting greens. What a hoot if Dave and his buddies had lived here, because they actually would have. I could imagine them all, full of that eighteen-year-old cockiness you wish guys would never lose, drinking Albert's beer and calling their shots like it was a game of 8-ball.
I spared my twin one more minute, wondering what part of the world held him tonight, hoping he was okay. Like me, Dave's pretty high up the hush-hush ladder. Like me, he'd started in a different part of the Agency, but now he's a Special Ops stud, so he spends the majority of his time overseas. It's an excellent excuse not to keep in touch and we use it like a dust rag. If we were careful we'd never have to speak to each other again. A hell of an accomplishment for people who used to complete each other's sentences.
"Enough," I told myself, "enough, enough, enough—" I bit my lip, stopping the loop with pain. You're working Jasmine, so work. Focus on the work. The work will keep you sane. At least in everybody else's eyes.
I took a deep breath and let it out with a laugh when I saw the fancy, scrolled metal sign on the gate in front of Assan's house. Anything with an entrance right out of Jurassic Park and enough fencing to contain a herd of brachiosaurus demands a name, and Assan had chosen Alpine Meadows. Without a mountain in sight. Nor were there any cute Austrian kids running around singing "Do, Re, Mi." Who was this guy really kidding? The name might trigger thoughts of "Sound of Music," but it looked like "The Haunting of Hill House."
Driving on, I discovered the area contained more dead ends and cul de sacs than a game of Clue. But I did find a couple of quick routes out just in case the boogers hit the blender. I cruised the neighborhood five more minutes, soaking in the ambiance, picturing myself looking like I belonged inside one of these six-bedroom, 4 1/2 bath monstrosities. Then I went back for Vayl.
I didn't see him when I pulled into the parking lot, but I could feel him waiting for me. Although it was more than that. It's an extra sense, one I've only had since… well, for about 14 months. And I'm not the only one who's fascinated by it.
During our first mission together, Vayl had admitted part of the reason he requested our pairing was the fact that I can smell vamps. Not literally. Still, it's almost a visceral scent, something near the back of the nose and just behind the eyeballs that whispers immortal to the base of my brain. Different vamps make me react different ways, but that's the basic idea.
We'd been stalking a renegade named Gerardo, who the Italian authorities had asked us to bag before he decimated yet another convent. Apparently he'd run through so many in Europe that he'd felt the need to emigrate. Having trailed our quarry to the hushed halls of the Monastery of St. Bernadette in Oregon, we hoped the sisters had enough brains to keep themselves barricaded in their cells and that my inner alarm would sound before one of them needed to escape for a quick pee.
"Do you feel anything yet?" Vayl had asked.
"Nope. And I'm not sure it would help if I did."
"Why not?"
"It's not like I could give you coordinates. The Sensitivity doesn't work that way. Best case scenario, all I know is he's in the same room as us."
Vayl had stopped me, his hand so warm on my shoulder I would've suggested a trip to the emergency room if he'd been human. "I believe this gift is just the tip if the iceberg, Jasmine. If we nurture it, develop it, I think you will be amazed to discover what lies deep beneath the water."
Ironically, that was where we found Gerardo, hiding under the lily pads in the fountain behind the abbey church. I'd seen vamps fight before. Fought beside them, in fact. But Vayl surpassed them all. He attacked Gerardo with the ferocity of a starving crocodile, his lips drawn so far back from his teeth I could see his rear molars without squinting. They both fell back into the fountain, slamming the statue of Bernadette that stood in the middle hard enough to make her wobble.
When they emerged, blood bubbled from a huge gash in Gerardo's shoulder. He broke free of Vayl's grip and tried to jump out of the water. Vayl caught him halfway and he fell hard on the concrete rim. Like a lion on a zebra, Vayl latched onto the back of Gerardo's neck, the look in his eyes just as fierce and nearly as primal. Suddenly I knew why the Romans had packed their coliseum on a regular basis. I wanted to roar with approval. My gladiator was kicking ass, baby.
A sound to my right distracted me. A nun shuffled out of the shadows. I ran toward her. "Sister, you need to leave. This isn't something you should see," I said.