Copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Rardin
Excerpt from Bite Marks copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Rardin
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Orbit
Hachette Book Group
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Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com
First eBook Edition: January 2009
Orbit is an imprint of Hachette Book Group. The Orbit name and logo are trademarks of Little, Brown Book Group Limited.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-316-04076-1
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sev fienteen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Acknowledgments
Meet the author
A Preview of "BITE MARKS"
“You got any sisters?”
No. Why?” Cole turned curious blue eyes my way, his bronzed face and surfer’s ’fro making me long for a pristine beach and a bottle of SPF 80. Anything that would put thousands of miles between me and my dad while preventing skin cancer had to be a good thing.
I shrugged. “I thought your folks might like a daughter. As in me. I’m in the market for a new set.” When his glance wandered below my neck I punched him in the arm. “Of parents, you nimrod.”
“Then we’d be siblings,” he said. “Which would make what I want to do with you illegal.”
Praise for the Jaz Parks series:
“This latest Jaz Parks adventure is the most jam-packed yet!”
— scifichick.com on Biting the Bullet
“A wonderful light read with engaging characters and an interesting storyline.”
— Dragonpage Radio on Once Bitten, Twice Shy
JAZ PARKS NOVELS
Once Bitten, Twice Shy
Another One Bites the Dust
Biting the Bullet
Bitten to Death
One More Bite
For my mother, Carol Ryan Pringle, who never once said, Would you drop this impossible writing dream and get a real job already? Thanks, Mom.
And for my sister, Erin Pringle, whose love has made me a better person.
Chapter One
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 blue and white 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 black 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 poking fun at murder on an airplane could bring the passengers down on you like a mob of after-Christmas sale shoppers.”
“Who says I’m joking?”
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 to an exhausted traveler who must’ve made her armrests squeak when she’d squeezed into her seat. I glanced her way, and as people will when they feel eyes on them, she looked back at me. For a second her saggy pink cheeks and black-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 haunting me!
I turned my head so that when I opened my eyes they fell on Vayl’s short black curls, which always tempted me to run my fingers through them. And his face, carved with the bold hand of an artist whose work I’d never toss aside.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Yeah, sure. For some bizarre reason I’m seeing the last vamp I assassinated on innocent people’s mugs. I can’t stop thinking about my boss in a totally unprofessional and yet toe-curling way. And, at age twenty-five, I still haven’t escaped the man who made my childhood pretty much a misery. I’m cruising, thanks for asking!
I picked the part that bothered me most and ripped. “You’re the one who let my father tag along. I told you it wouldn’t work. I warned you blood could be shed. But did you listen?”
“It is partially my fault,” he allowed. “If I had taken time to fly home between my trip to Romania and this mission, I do not believe this would have happened. But meeting you in London seemed more efficient. And without our Seer along to warn me otherwise, how was I to know your father would rendezvous with you there as well?”
I said, “I miss Cassandra.” Especially on days like today. Not just because her psychic abilities could’ve detoured this steamroller. But because she always seemed to know what to say to keep me from ruining my so-called life.
Vayl’s eyes traveled to my hand, still stuck inside my pocket. Or was he checking out my boobs? And if not, should I be even more pissed? His half smile showed he knew exactly what I was thinking. He said, “Perhaps we should consider bringing Cassandra with us more regularly. As for the bloodshed, I supposed you would wait until we had reached Inverness.”
“Who brings baby pictures with them on a trip?” I griped. “If I’d wanted my bare ass paraded in front of all the premium ticket holders I’d have mooned everyone before we took off!”
Vayl knew better than to tell me the photos were adorable. Then I’d have had to kill him too. If that had been the real issue. Problem was, when my dad had cracked that old album, he’d done it upside down first. So the picture that had caught my attention was a copy of the one I’d locked in my safe nearly eighteen months ago. A shot of Matt and me just after he’d slipped his ring on my finger. I wondered if two people had ever been so sure they were headed for eternal happiness. Or had their mistake shoved so violently in their faces two weeks later.
“Look into my eyes,” Vayl 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?”
“It is a Vampere word, meaning wildcat.”
“Oh. In that case . . .” I locked stares with the guy who’d started out as my supervisor, upgraded to sverhamin, and ended up . . . well, sometimes the possibilities practically made my skin steam. Other times I still felt like Matt’s traitor. Can you betray a dead man? Since I didn’t know the answer to that one, I forced my mind to pettier subjects. “I can’t believe my father’s here. This is like my first date times ten.”