Bitten in Two (27 page)

Sterling ignored our preparations because he was stil busy with his own. He added a few more dried leaves to the pile, whispered over it, “Shades of shades, rise and speak, mouth my words.”

His amulet seemed to be moving on its own now, drawing a circle around the pile on the floor. He hesitated another second. Then he brought his left hand up to the chain, pul ed the necklace straight and stil . A bolt of shiny silver light shot from its glittering center down onto the concoction. It caught fire, burned white-hot, and then stopped, leaving nothing but ash behind.

He leaned over again, only this time he drove his fist into the pile. Sparks flew from his ring as the ash exploded into the air. It reminded me of a volcanic eruption, only in miniature. When Sterling stepped back, however, not a single speck of the material had settled on him.

“Where’d it go?” I whispered.

“Around,” he assured me.

“Uh-huh.” I looked at the ceiling doubtful y. “Nothing seems different to me.”

Sterling’s jaw worked itself long enough that I realized I’d just insulted him. I sighed. Why did I always land the bril iant, sensitive types? “I’m just asking you what the Luureken is going to see that I’m not,” I said.

“Oh.” He glanced at Vayl, who raised an eyebrow.

“Her words often take more than a single meaning,” my
sverhamin
explained. “Perhaps this would be a good rule for you to remember before the two of you end up destroying another building.”

I stared up at him, thinking,
Oh, so he knew all along.

Yeah, Pete probably trotted out all the gory details of my
solo exploits for him. And still he demanded to bring me
on as his assistant. Which is kind of how I feel right now.

Back to square one, before he’d even looked at me
sideways. Which isn’t fair. Maybe he feels just as
confused as I do. Who’s ever going to know with a guy who
signals his deepest emotions with a twitch?

Save it for later
, I answered myself as I turned away from him and locked my hands behind my back.
We’re
working, so let’s work. And if we’re going to ignore the fact
that we both decided to gloss over what should’ve been a
major reunion moment, then fine. It would’ve been weird
with an audience anyway. Especially considering the fact
that Vayl’s first reaction to becoming uncursed was to kill
the guy.

Then I felt his hands slide over mine. Cirilai had ridden up my finger. He pushed it back down, then raised my arms just enough so he could push forward, press his hips into my back. The rumble of his voice worked like a bel , ringing through my body as he said, “I am curious as wel , Sterling.

Wil the il usions only be visible to the Luureken?” Sterling’s smile seemed to acknowledge more than the question as he looked down at the original spot of his spel .

“You’l see the il usions. She’l see ghosts. And hear them, in whatever language they were in the habit of speaking. I’d rate the freak-out factor at about a nine and a half.” I felt a grin play at the corner of my lips, now that I understood. And especial y now that Vayl’s thumbs were rubbing my palms while his fingers wrapped my wrists so tight it felt like he never planned to let go.

Less than fifteen seconds later the two Luureken whose remains Cole and Kyphas had salvaged rose out of the floor. Even though Sterling had only created echoes of their spirits, I felt their rage like needles rol ing along the length of my exposed skin, an acid-green hatred that spewed on everything it touched.

How such ordinary-looking people could contain al that madness I couldn’t guess. At first glance they resembled a couple of child-sized grown-ups dressed in street clothes.

But you can’t hide real evil. The man who’d masqueraded as the snake-photo sel er’s son had come, the scar crawling along his face and down to his neck like an active disease. Joining him was the flame-eyed girl that Sterling and Kyphas had original y marked. Her scars, which had been even deeper in life than her partner’s, pulsed as if she stil had a heartbeat.

“I’m going to fuck somebody up,” she said to her partner, her voice high as a child’s as they paused by Ahmed’s desk.

“We’re dead, Cleahd,” said the man. “You don’t get more fucked up than this.” It was supposed to be a joke, but neither of them laughed. They just stared at each other with eyes the color of burning logs that kept getting brighter, and hotter, until I began to be amazed one of them didn’t burst out screaming.

Final y Cleahd shoved the knuckles of her first two fingers against her lips and said, “Wrul , one of us is stil alive. Don’t you feel it? She’s waiting.’” Sterling caressed the ring on his pinkie and whispered, mouthing the words Wrul spoke moments later.

“We have to talk to her,” he said. “Come on.” Ignoring us as if we were just a set of drums Ahmed had decided to use as doorstops until he had time to price us, they drifted into the hal and toward the surviving Luureken, who was just beginning to sit up. They sat across from her, staring into her confused face as they tucked their knees under their chins and wrapped their arms around them like schoolgirls preparing to play a good game.

At nearly the same time the third il usion walked through the front door. It was the leader’s rider, looking so real that I reached for Grief before my brain reminded my hand that Sterling was just that good.

The first two berserkers looked at the new arrival and whispered his name, “Nedo,” worshipful y. Then they waited for him to speak, like it was his job to ask the questions they wanted answered. Weird how the rules of life fol ow into the afterlife, and then even into the magical faking of it.

I glanced at Sterling. He’d closed his eyes. I thought I heard him chanting as Nedo leaned over the wild-eyed survivor, grinning with huge enjoyment when she yelped and crab walked straight back into a bin ful of maracas, knocking it over and spil ing them with a clash that official y made Ahmed’s the loudest scene I’d ever lingered at after the kil ings were over. I hoped the neighbors wore earplugs to bed.

Nedo glared at the single surviving Luureken like he was insulted she hadn’t been decapitated as he inquired,

“The Enkyklios bal . Tel us we didn’t die for an empty bauble.”

Cleahd shrieked, “Tel us we didn’t die in vain!” Wrul crawled up beside the survivor’s shoulder and breathed in her ear. “We died for a fucking marble, Eishel.

You can’t burn enough incense to comfort our spirits in that knowledge.”

Eishel reached back, wrapped her hands around a guembri like ones I’d seen musicians strumming in the Djemaa el Fna for the past few days, and stuttered, “N-n-n-n-ooo. You’ve forgotten already. I-i-i-it’s not about the bal .

That was just a clue, remember? Sister Yalida left her map inside it. The map that leads to the Rocenz. Roldan made it our solemn duty to guard it—”

“Aaaahhhh!” screeched Nedo.

“In vain!” screamed Cleahd.

“Do you think those CIA fuckers haven’t figured al this out already? They’re probably halfway to the map right now,” Wrul hissed.

Eishel shook her head. “Impossible! The Enkyklios map hasn’t been disturbed in decades. We’ve seen to that.” She pul ed the guitarlike instrument to her chest.

“No!” wailed Wrul . “The map! You’ve put the map at risk!”

“Wasted lives!” screamed Nedo. “Empty deaths!”

“Wait!” Eishel cried before Wrul could wrap his claws around her neck. “It’s stil at the Musee de Marrakech.

Think! I’m sure you’l remember if you just try! The rest of our pack is stil there, stil guarding it. And even if they failed like…” She nearly swal owed her tongue as Cleahd screeched and began tearing out her hair.

“No! I didn’t mean that!” Eishel scrambled to her feet, holding the guembri out in front of her like a shield. “I’m only saying, even if our enemies did, somehow, find a way to steal it they could never interpret it. The tannery is as much a labyrinth as a warlock’s maze.”

“Too late!” wailed Cleahd.

“The vampire and his Trust have already gone!” bel owed Wrul .

“The map! The map!” chanted Nedo, over and over again, punching his head forward with every other word so that Eishel final y hid her face behind the instrument.

They pressed so close to her they could’ve walked through her if they’d taken another step. “I’l warn the pack, al right?” she cried. “They’l ambush the Trust before they can even crack the door to the storage room.” can even crack the door to the storage room.”

“Go!” demanded Cleahd.

“Go!” “Leave now!” the other two chimed in, waving their hands like geese herders.

Eishel ran toward the door, working up such a head of steam I half expected the hoot of a train whistle to toot out of her ass as her arms worked up and down like little pistons. It seemed nothing could stop her from leaping into the street now that the entrance had been destroyed.

Instead? She slammed into Raoul’s replacement ful force.

Thunk.

For a second she reminded me of a cartoon cat, foiled in its endless mouse chase by one of those sudden, unexpected impacts that flattens it, tail to whiskers, before it slides to the floor with a long squeak of surrender. I pressed my lips together.

This is not funny.

Then she fel straight back.

Thud.

Cole’s strangled whisper broke the silence. “The only way this could get better is if the trapdoor opened underneath that rug she’s lying on and she tumbled down to the basement.”

Col ective intake of breath. Then Cole said, “I barricaded that door shut.”

Exchange of guilty looks as we realized what we’d been considering. And then Cole said, “Oh. Wait.” One wel -aimed kick and we al sighed happily as the floor groaned and Ahmed’s basement access door gave underneath what had been a colossal battle fol owed by the final insult of Eishel’s fal . She disappeared with a whisper of windswept clothing and a final, satisfying
clonk.

We al grinned happily. Except for Raoul, who’d risen above such petty humor. And Vayl, who just didn’t get us.

They looked at each other while we shook our heads and wiped our eyes—and shrugged.

Vayl held out his arms. “Do I look like a man who is prepared to steal a map?”

Raoul gave him a critical once-over. “No. You look like you were just mauled by a lion.” He motioned to the slashes healing on Vayl’s arms and his half-digested calf. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m assuming you won.”

“It does.” Vayl glanced at us, his eyes lingering on mine just long enough to make sure I understood. “But if that is the impression
I
leave,
you
lot would frighten a wel -armed street gang. In which case, I suggest we go back to the riad to change before the authorities decide we look too interesting not to question—”

“Was that our next step?” Cole asked me.

“Yup,” I replied, staring hard at him, wil ing him to read my mind. “Right after Raoul sends the Luureken to the great beyond so she can’t warn the pack we’re coming.” Raoul scowled at me. “Don’t get used to this. I’m not here to help you start your own morgue.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “Ahmed’s fridge is way too smal for that.” I took off for the back room and the Enkyklios bal it stil held while Raoul tied up our loose thread. Cole fol owed me.

As I reached for the bal he whispered, “Are we doing what I think we’re doing?”

I looked over his shoulder. Kyphas was crouched at the edge of the hole, staring greedily down at Eishel, probably trying to figure a way to take credit for her eventual trip to the pit. That didn’t mean she wasn’t paying some sort of attention. So I said, “Yeah. We’re taking the bal with us.” When he saw where I was looking he didn’t argue. Just watched me reach for it, think again, and then cal for Astral.

Who appeared like she’d been waiting for the summons.

“See the bal ? I need you to carry that home for me, okay, girl?”

Astral leaped to the table, stretched out her neck, and delicately nipped the Enkyklios bal off its flowery stand.

Then she swal owed it.

“You are such a good girl!” I said.

She didn’t grace me with a reply. Maybe she’d figured out how I’d just risked her little hide, because her attitude seemed haughtier than usual as she walked out the front door, as if she assumed the rest of us were ready to fol ow her.

We made it al the way back to the square before anyone even took a second look at us. And even then their eyes barely hesitated before skipping on to a lone musician who was strol ing along singing quietly as he accompanied himself on a guembri similar to the one Eishel had shielded herself with. In the time we’d spent away most of the crowd had cleared out. The food carts had rol ed off to their garages or were shutting down. The Djemaa el Fna had final y decided it was time for bed.

As happened with me anytime I saw a city yawn and set the alarm, I felt the adrenaline surge. Now was when our real work usual y began, and tonight was no exception. I walked beside Vayl, every sense maxed out, most of them centered on him. Though I’d worked with him nearly every day for the past eleven months, I’d never been so aware of the confident set of his jaw. The impossible broadness of his shoulders. The predatory smoothness in his step. The temptation to claim him by walking inside the circle of his arm while his fingers brushed the curve of my hip locked my teeth together. I wanted to grab him by the front of his shirt, drag him to the center of the square, and scream, “MINE!” I knew it was a delayed reaction. Seeing him come back to himself had been too huge for my heart to handle al at once. It might be weeks before I came down from this fierce joy at having a part of my heart returned to me.