Another One Bites the Dust (18 page)

“What if Chien-Lung find out about my brother?” Shao asked. “Maybe he disappear too.” I thought that a definite possibility. “I cannot talk to Chinese authorities. I do not know who is faithful to Chien-Lung. But you. You from America,” he told us, as if we needed to be reminded. “You know who can help?”

Uhhh, well . . . Cole and I looked at each other. He gave me an it’s-your-call shrug.

“What exactly do you want us to do?” I asked Shao.

“I think my friends on that boat.” He pointed to the
Constance Malloy
. I thought them more likely under that boat, since I’d seen the generals weight the bodies before throwing them overboard. But I let him go on. “Maybe your police go on there, find them. Maybe arrest Lung?”

Maybe Lung would die tonight and we wouldn’t have to worry about it. “I know a policeman here,” I said, thinking of Cassandra’s SWAT man, Preston, and of how badly she and I both wanted to keep him alive. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” I said, knowing I wouldn’t. Unless I absolutely had to.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

With a promise to report to Shao in the morning, I convinced him to go back into the tent. Hopefully Lung would just think Lai had tired of sitting still and nothing would come of their absence. Lai might even help perpetuate the illusion, because the constant bowing and foiled attempts to eat Cole’s button had evidently worn him out. As we said goodbye, he turned in his dad’s arms and rested his head on his shoulder. I figured he’d be asleep before they made it back to the entrance.

“Okay, you were right,” said Cole. “I never should have brought the Xias within a hundred feet of this mess, because now I’m not going to sleep for worrying about them.” He fished a piece of gum out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth.

So the gum had graduated from a kicking-smoking habit to a hindering-stress routine. Like shuffling cards only saner. I linked arms with Cole, liking him even better now that we had something else in common. “They were already in this mess, or weren’t you listening? And hey, if everything goes okay tonight, they’ll be fine. Speaking of which, did you get the food?”

“Yeah. Yetta brought it over just after you went on.”

He took me back into the tent, into the staging area behind the black backdrop, and showed me a round, lace-covered table I hadn’t seen before because it sat in the corner, hidden by shadows. I could hear Cassandra talking as I borrowed Cole’s penlight to peek into the covered trays and dishes the owner of Seven Seas Succulents had provided. As Cassandra told an audience member his daughter would get the scholarship she’d applied for, I whispered into Cole’s ear, “Which one?”

He took my hand and pointed the light at a star-shaped glass plate loaded with escargots. He trained the light on one of them. It had been placed just at the tip of one of the points. “That’s it,” he murmured. “You can tell it’s the right one because there’s a little chip broken off the bottom of the tray just underneath.” I felt along the base of the star and, sure enough, my finger found the indentation.

On the other side of the curtain, Cassandra said, “I am growing tired. Perhaps just one more item from the audience?”

I heard scraping and shuffling. Then Cassandra said, with barely concealed regret, “Sergeant Preston?”

Uh-oh
. I peeked around the side of the curtain that divided our narrow space from the stage. Yup, SWAT man had volunteered his Seiko. He and his kid, a cute little dude about five or six with his dad’s intelligent brown eyes, sat in the back row. Well, Preston sat. The kid stood on the bench, looking deeply enthralled. Suddenly Cassandra couldn’t beat off her admirers with a rubber mallet.

“What is it you want to know?” she asked stiffly as her hands worried over the watch.

“There’s a woman I’m interested in,” he said, giving her a slow wink. “Will I see her again?”

She hesitated, but couldn’t, even in this moment, bring herself to lie. You had to admire that kind of resolve. “Yes.”

“You are allowed two more questions,” said Vayl. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him, standing on the opposite end of the stage. He and Cassandra had agreed audience members could ask three questions of her, hoping it would whet Lung’s appetite for a more in-depth reading for himself.

“Will I ever remarry?”

“I do not see that in your future.”

He looked surprised, then shrugged. “And your last question?” put in Vayl.

“Okay, uh, there’s no school tomorrow, so my boy and I are going fishing in the morning. Will we catch anything?”

Cassandra’s hands, holding tightly to the watch, jerked. Her voice, when she answered, wound so tight I could almost hear her vocal chords twang. “Nothing you want him to take off the hook.”

The whole audience held its breath. “Then I’ll definitely be taking him to the zoo,” said Preston. Everyone laughed, except him, Cassandra, and Vayl. Looking at Preston, I got the feeling he knew she was holding back the most important truths she could tell him.

Vayl stepped to the center of the stage. He held a gleaming black bowl in his hand. As planned, Bergman had piled the torn halves of our audience’s tickets inside. “Now it is time to announce tonight’s winner of a free private reading from Cassandra, preceded by a belly dance from the fabulous Lucille and accompanied by free refreshments. This will take place as soon as the tent has cleared. We are drawing by ticket number, so please look to your ticket stubs now.”

He jumbled the papers as he said, “And the winner is . . . 103.” He looked around the room. “Just bring your stub to me, if you would—”

Lung’s male companion, who held their ticket stubs, began to whisper in his ear as he bounced in his seat. He looked as excited as an old fart who’s just gotten a BINGO. When Lung nodded he jumped up and handed Vayl the ticket, which he pretended to study.

“This is the one!” said Vayl. He held his hands out to the audience. “Please give our lucky winner and all of our performers tonight a round of applause.” The audience obeyed. As they shuffled out, Vayl said, “Thank you for your attendance and please drive home safely!”

I kept my eyes on Lung, who was getting it from both sides. His lady friend hissed in one ear, making fierce gestures that said she was not pleased with this turn of events. The new vamp chattered into the other, encouraging him to stay, relax, have fun.

Lung listened to them both, but his eyes followed the Xias as they exited the tent, lingering hungrily on Lai as he snoozed on Dad’s shoulder.
Don’t worry, you freak
, I thought.
We’ve got just the snack you need
.

Finally Lung focused on Vayl. “I am indeed fortunate,” he said in a perfect British accent. “Would you mind if I stand, however? I find these benches somewhat taxing.”

“Certainly. If you would just wait here, I shall escort Cassandra backstage to rest and Lucille will arrive to entertain you momentarily.”

Gulp. I clutched at the curtain, as if only it could support me under a sudden spurt of nausea. Now I’d only be dancing for three, but the very intimacy of such a setting made me want to zip into an ankle-length parka. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Quit being a wimp. You can do this. You
have
to do this
. I stroked the .38 riding my thigh as I might a beloved dog. It calmed me enough that I was able to meet Vayl and Cassandra with a pleasant smile.

“Ready?” I asked brightly, as if we were about to trot off to the church picnic alongside Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher.

Vayl nodded, releasing Cassandra and offering me his arm. We cruised back onstage. Lung now crouched on the bench, as we’d seen him do on the yacht. His companions continued to flank him. Vayl led me down the stage steps to meet them.

“May I introduce Miss Lucille Robinson?” Vayl asked.

Lung bowed his head. “You are grace and beauty personified. My name is Chien-Lung,” he said. Nice words, yeah. But the eyes
so
did not back them up. They reminded me of Dave and his buddies that summer they grew about six inches apiece. Every time they trooped into the kitchen and opened the stove it was like some amazing new discovery. “Whoa! Sticky buns!
All right!
”

The girl in me wanted to slap Lung across his face and yell, “Get your eyes off my sticky buns, ya creep!” No, I don’t usually mind. I get that straight guys are going to look at boobs and butts. But generally they’re überdiscreet, and I appreciate that. This guy—
not
.

Jasmine, don’t tell me you’re surprised this guy’s a weaselly little perve
, I lectured myself.
Now cut the personal reactions and act like a pro already!

The new vamp, who’d also enjoyed the show, displayed much better manners. He did, however, seem fascinated with the fake ruby I’d placed in my navel. He jumped up to greet me, his hand out and ready to grab mine.

“This is my assistant, Li Ruolan,” Lung said as I slipped my hand into the new vamp’s and murmured, “How nice to meet you.” He’d come dressed in Western clothes: nice brown slacks and a short-sleeved blue shirt with a blue and gray striped tie.

Lung continued. “And this is my adopted daughter, Pengfei Yan.”

Yeah, right
. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” I said, working hard to keep it civil. She looked normal enough with her long black hair braided straight down her back. Some artist of a seamstress had embroidered exquisite white flowers all over her sleeveless blue silk blouse. Her black silk pants matched her flats. I even liked her dangly black pearl earrings. Nope, her physical appearance didn’t offend me one bit.

But I’d seen her kill maybe six men the night before. Probably just a drop in the bucket for somebody who associated with a monster like Lung. And none of it showed on that smooth, pale face. In those clear obsidian eyes. Plus something about her psychic odor, the scent that signaled to me, as a Sensitive, that I was dealing with a vampire, turned my stomach. Pengfei emitted a burnt-offering sort of aroma that triggered mental images of mass graves.

Bergman still sat at the back of the tent, so I signaled to him that I was ready. Vayl took a seat across the aisle from Lung, where the Xia family had perched minutes before. As the music started, I moved back onto the stage and began dancing. The painkillers Dr. Darryl had prescribed wore off about halfway through the song, and by the time I finished my hands were throbbing like all the bones had sheered off midway and now scraped against each other like cheese on a grater. I managed to keep my poise, but
damn
it hurt. Though I hid it well, Pengfei Yan seemed to suspect. And the sick little bitch got off on it.

“Lovely,” she said after I’d finished. She and Li Ruolan clapped enthusiastically. “Could you do another one?”

Jaz would’ve pulled the .38 and shot that smirk right off her lips. But Lucille Robinson had taken charge, smiled widely at her, and said, “Of course,” before violence could be done. I looked at Bergman expectantly. He fiddled with some knobs and dials for a second, then said, “Sorry, my equipment’s down. Looks like I need to replace some parts, but it’ll be fixed by tomorrow.”

My smile widened for him, only now it was real. The self-centered tech-head had just saved my aching ass.
Will wonders never cease?

Vayl stood. “Thank you, Lucille. Would you and Cole bring in the refreshments while Cassandra prepares?” I nodded and rushed offstage as Vayl turned to Lung and said, “This is actually about the time we usually dine, so we hope you will join us.”

I pulled the curtain back to admit Cole, who stood ready with the table. I helped him carry it up the back stairs and to stage left. Now that light shone on it, I could see the ivory lace cloth covering it. Yetta had chosen both silver and glass serving dishes. She’d also provided white china rimmed with red roses for eating, along with heavy silver forks, knives, and spoons.

Vayl inclined his head toward Lung. “You are the lucky winner, sir, so we invite you to fill your plate first.”

“How kind.” Lung went up the stairs to the buffet, followed closely by his cohorts. Cole and I stood on one side of the table, forcing them to walk along the other side, so the stuffed snail would be closest to them. Unfortunately Lung’s wrapped hands wouldn’t allow him to hold a plate, though he didn’t mention it to us. He just kept them tucked inside his sleeves and let Li Ruolan fill one for him. Li took his time, arranging the food so neatly it could’ve posed for a still life. Luckily that painting would’ve been called “assassination,” because the deadly snail definitely took a starring role.

We all sat on the benches to eat, as if we were at some bizarre family reunion. If Romeo and Juliet had lived to bear offspring, I imagined this was how the Capulets and Montagues would’ve behaved at the kid’s first birthday party. Nobody even tried to converse. Our side watched theirs from the corners of our eyes, feeling slightly grossed out that Li Ruolan fed Lung every single bite he ate, and worried that Li seemed to taste everything first.

Li had the snail on his fork.

I picked up a tiny biscuit I’d doused with butter and honey and popped the whole thing in my mouth.
Like that, you kiss up
, I thought.
Shove that mollusk in your boss’s mouth and let’s get it on!

Cassandra walked in and Li’s fork hit the plate.

Arrghh!

Lung had been eyeing the escargot eagerly. Now he looked at Cassandra. A new hunger lit his eyes, one that had nothing to do with snails. And I instantly understood why the obsession with psychics. He wanted her blood. Sometimes vamps get fixated like that. They crave a particular type. Teenaged girls. Druids. Canadians. Feeding on one specific class gives them such a spectacular rush it becomes an addiction. When that happens they tend to be real hard to stop.