Another One Bites the Dust (13 page)

She would have to ask. I decided to take it slow. If I talked it out logically, maybe it would make sense to both of us. “Well . . . I’m going to start off by keeping two things clearly in mind. Number one, your visions are sometimes off. And number two, if he does try to kill you, he’ll be in for a nasty surprise. Because, having been forewarned, I am already forearmed.”
So there
.

The tears picked up. Soon Cassandra was sobbing big-time. Cole and I shared an anxious look. “I’m sorry,” I told her. “Did you misunderstand me? I’m not going to let him kill you.”

Cole rustled up a box of tissues, sat down beside her, and put them in her flailing hands. After a while she slowed down, blew her nose a few times, and squeegeed the tears from her face. “I am so sorry. I just didn’t expect you to believe me.”

“Why not?”

“So many people don’t. Vayl, for instance . . .” She trailed off, aware he probably didn’t want her to share. Despite the hot water it had already thrown me into, I made a mental note to prod him on the issue of his sons again. He must really be hounding her to pinpoint their present locations for him, like she was some sort of human GPS. And instead of telling him to quit obsessing, she’d clumped that worry with her current stress, with the result that she was positioned to keep Kleenex in business well into the next century.

“I am an old woman, you know,” she said pitifully.

I leaned over and patted her hand. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Even now you don’t look a day over seven hundred.”

Her smile trembled, but it held. “I spent the first years of my life in Seffrenem.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s a lost city, buried deep beneath the desert now. But once it was a center for art, trade, and religion. All the gods lived there, each within his or her own temple. And I was the oracle for the greatest of them all, Seffor. People would travel for months to kneel at my feet, hear my prophecies. They brought me gifts of rare jewels, foods, and furs. They treated me like a goddess. And with such visions as I had, is it any wonder I began to think of myself as divine?”

I had no answer to that. I knew what I’d thought of myself after hearing the immense, booming voice of Raoul, and it wasn’t anything nearly that elevated.

“How the gods must have laughed,” Cassandra said bitterly. “They knew what lay in store for me. Perhaps they had orchestrated the entire tragedy.” She paused, mulling over her past while Cole and I tried not to bounce up and down in our seats and yell, “What tragedy? What tragedy?”

Finally she continued. “One morning I woke to a vision of such horror I was nearly struck dumb. I saw my husband thrown from his horse, Faida, and killed under her hooves. I told him what I’d seen, but he just laughed. He had trained Faida from a filly. She was a fine, obedient animal, not at all skittish. He told me my pregnancy had me on edge. It was my third, and had lasted into the fourth month, twice as long as the first two.”

She swallowed painfully, as if she had a knife at her throat. “He died that afternoon. They never saw the snake that bit Faida, causing her to rear in panic, to throw him, to crush his skull with her flying hooves. All the men who were with him could tell me was that Faida had died shortly afterward. I lost the baby the next day.”

She looked at us with pain-drenched eyes. “It’s been the same for me ever since. I can’t save the people closest to me, because they never believe my visions.”

Cole and I shared a moment of stunned silence. There was no way to grasp the scope of a life that long. But the love. And the pain. I could connect to that. And I was always awed by the survivors.

“People only hear what they want to hear,” I said finally. “One of the more idiotic traits of humans, but one that has its perks. For instance, when someone says, ‘Don’t be stupid, there’s no way you can come up with a cure for AIDS.’ That’s an excellent time to develop situational deafness.”

“So what do
you
want to hear?” she asked.

“That you’re relieved because we believe you,” I said, glancing to Cole for confirmation. He nodded quickly.

“You know what I think this means?” he asked us both. We shook our heads. He took Cassandra’s hands, smoothing over the flaked polish, the chipped nails. “I think the gods have stopped laughing.”

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Having already eaten dessert, we decided a healthy lunch was in order. While Cole opened three cans of ravioli and Cassandra made orange Kool-Aid, I called Evie.

“Jaz, the best thing happened!”

Thank God. I am so ready for some good news
. “What’s that?”

“E.J. cried all night last night.”

“Awesome!”

“Okay, I can see how you don’t get that’s a good thing. But you’ve got to understand. There we are, just me and her, rocking in the chair beside her crib at four a.m., both of us crying buckets. And suddenly it hits me. This is complete and utter bullshit!”

I held the phone away from my ear and stared at it. Evie does not swear. And I mean never. I finally realized the extremity of her situation. “So what happened?”

“I woke Tim up and I said, ‘Tim, you can only cry so long before it doesn’t do you any more good.’ I don’t think he really knew what I meant by that, but he did think it was a good idea to take E.J. to the emergency room. We met this amazing pediatrician there who said E.J. had an awful ear infection. She said E.J. had to have been in utter misery. Plus she said there’s medicine we can give her for the colic, which is actually reflux. She doesn’t have to suffer, Jaz. Isn’t that incredible? And we are sticking with this new pediatrician. She’s amazing!”

“That is such a relief! I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that! Hey, are you listening really closely to me right now?”

“Of course.”

“Because I want to make sure there’s no interference on your end when I say I told you so.”

Evie’s laugh, finally stress free and full of the same joy I’d heard the day her daughter was born, lifted my spirits like nothing else could. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

“Okay, you keep on being an excellent mom and I’ll get back to work. And, hey, next time she takes a nap, you take one too.” I, on the other hand, would be avoiding sleep like a bad concussion victim until further notice.

“Yes, ma’am!” Evie sang.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

I took ten minutes to shower and change. By then lunch was ready. After I’d related my good news we ate in relative silence, which might’ve been why Cole’s eyes quickly lowered to half-mast and, if not for Cassandra’s rapid reflexes, his entire face would’ve been masked with pasta sauce when he fell asleep a minute later. I woke Bergman and he willingly changed places with Cole once he learned we’d saved a can of ravioli and a handful of chocolate for him.

“Are you women going to stay in here all day?” he asked as he sat down to his meal. One glance at the monitor had shown him what Cole had reported seeing all morning. A whole lot of nothing. “Since the
Constance Malloy
seems to be in a temporary coma, I thought I’d do some experiments.”

“Are these tests so painfully shy they can’t stand an audience?” I asked.

“Something like that.” Despite the fact that we’d all signed Bergman’s lip-zip oath the night before, it looked like old habits would be dying real hard, or possibly not at all, on this trip.

“No problem,” said Cassandra. “It’s time for Jaz to meet my friend anyway.”

“What, did he send you a message by courier fairy?” Bergman asked, his lip curling.

That is it
. “Bergman—” Cassandra cleared her throat, shook her head, and mouthed, “Later.”

We each grabbed ID and money and I holstered up, covering Grief with my leather jacket. I also wore the outfit Vayl had bought me to replace the one that had been ruined on our last mission, a soft red silk blouse with an ornate, scooped neckline and black jeans. I’d stuck with my boots, since Cole said a guy from Seven Seas Succulents had come for theirs, plus all the other stuff we’d borrowed, earlier in the day.

We left Bergman to pull a couple of boxes of electronics from the trailer and start playing in them like a kid with his LEGOs. As the door slammed behind us I told Cassandra, “I want to say, ‘Don’t mind him,’ but you should. He’s acting like such a jerk.”

“He’s afraid,” she replied.

“Fear is the locus of his entire existence. But that doesn’t make it okay for him to demean you and your work every time he opens his mouth. If he wasn’t so damned brilliant I’d have given him an earful weeks ago. It’s just, he’s very thin-skinned, so you always run an excellent chance of mortally offending him. And then we can kiss our dandy gadgets goodbye.”

“I can deal with him,” she said. “I have just been so distracted ever since . . .” She looked at me with good-humored accusation. “Ever since I met you, in fact.”

“What can I say? I just have a way with people. Now, where is this buddy of yours?”

“At a sidewalk café called Sustenance. We’ll have to take a taxi.” Though I would’ve preferred to arrive in my corvette, I found that as long as she didn’t suggest mopeds I’d be fine with whatever mode of transport she chose.

We took the twenty-block trip from the festival to Sustenance in a cab that looked like it had been the site of a major WWE showdown. If it wasn’t dented, it was torn and if it wasn’t broken, it was stained.

“Is that blood?” Cassandra whispered, pointing to a spot on the floor near her feet.

“That or amniotic fluid,” I joked.

She looked at me in horror. “Tell me no one has ever given birth inside of this car.”

“Why not? The seats still have plenty of spring and when a contraction hits, all you have to do is grab this grimy strap here.” I acted as if I was going to slip my hand through it. Cassandra let out a little shriek and clutched my wrist.
Shit!

“Don’t you dare get that faraway look!” I snapped. Too late, she’d pulled a vision out of our brief contact.

“You must take me and Bergman on your next mission,” she whispered.

“What?”

“We’ll fight about it later.”

“Everything all right back there?” asked the driver, his accent placing his parents squarely south of the border.

“No problem, thanks,” I replied. “My friend here is just a little germaphobic.” Okay, maybe I was hunting a little stop-touching-me revenge when I advised her, “Watch out for the back window. I think that smear could be vomit.”

Cassandra flinched. “Do you know I spent an entire year cleaning out a rich man’s stables and I never once felt like bacteria were skittering up my dress like a herd of mindless insects? It’s not me. It is this
car
!”

“Do you need a shower?” I asked.

“Yes!”

“Too bad, we’re here.” She leaped from the cab and, as I paid the driver, ran into the café and demanded to be shown the bathroom. Funny how a good gross out will take your mind off scary dreams and visions. I know I felt better.

I eyed the tables outside of Sustenance, all round four-seaters with large yellow umbrellas sticking out of their centers. Yellow and white striped tie-on pillows cushioned the black metal chairs. Only three were in use at the moment. Two moms with toddlers in strollers lingered over a cup of coffee while their kids shared a power nap. At the other end of the narrow veranda sat a man who would make me believe in aliens, if I were so inclined.

His thick white hair grew straight up from his head, as if he’d just spent the past fifteen minutes hanging upside down from a trapeze. His eyes were such a light blue they bordered on silver. Deep wrinkles crisscrossed the bits of skin showing beneath his bushy white eyebrows, handlebar mustache, and collar-length beard. He wore a poet’s shirt, complete with poofy sleeves and a V-neck presently closed with leather ties. His corduroy pants were dark brown and matched his intricately tooled cowboy boots.

“I like your boots,” I told him as I closed the distance between us. I noticed he wore a single diamond in his left ear.

“Thank you. I had them made special in Reno. I found a store there called Frierman’s that I would highly recommend to any of the gentlemen in your life.” His soft, Southwestern accent invited you to be comfortable, even sit a spell if the spirit moved you.

I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans, mostly because it would’ve been polite to shake his hand. Polite, and stupid.

His gesture invited me to join him. I sat in the chair opposite his, thinking I’d heard that name—Frierman’s—somewhere before. But this was no time for mental inventory. The old gentleman was looking at me expectantly.

“Cassandra will be out in a second. She just had the most harrowing cab ride.”

He smiled. “It is so difficult to put your life in another’s hands.”

“Yeah.”

“My name is Desmond Yale.” The waitress cut him off, asking for my drink preference. I ordered iced tea.

“I’m Lucille Robinson. Cassandra tells me you’re from New Mexico,” I said after the waitress left.

“Born and raised,” he agreed.

“She didn’t really tell me any more than that.”

“What would you like to know?”

I considered him for a moment. “How did you come by your Gift?”