Bitten in Two (33 page)

that

hint

of

possessiveness that I returned with interest. Starting the car felt like loading a gun. I felt my hands begin to shake. I was going to drive my baby to the big showdown!

Vayl put his lips to my ear. “Are you ready to annihilate some demons?”

I thought about Kyphas. And Brude. No more than the grit between my foot and the accelerator. And knew my shiver had as much to do with wasting them as it did Vayl’s hot breath tickling one of my most sensitive spots. When I turned my head his lips hovered next to mine. I stole my smile from his repertoire, just a twitch to show how hard I was working to master my passion as I let my eyelids drop.

“I’m up for it,” I said. Glancing over my shoulder I added,

“Best route, Yousef?”

Cole gave me his reply. “I’l show you. We’l come to the tannery from outside the city, taking the Route Des Remparts to the Bab ed-Debbagh.”

I knew the gate, an arched break in the impressive ochre wal that stretched for miles around the old city, proving that even in the thirteenth century they knew how to turn towns into fortresses.

As I swung the Galaxie into motion I said, “Vayl, do you remember the gate from the last time you were here?” His nod went more up than down. “Helena and I toured the city one day and we saw it then. Legends say that an evil djinn named Malik Gharub is trapped within the gate, so I suggest none of you rub anything that resembles a lamp.”

I glanced over my shoulder, making sure Sterling could see my expression.

“Fine!” he said. “I won’t go after the djinn! Although just a touch could probably fuel me for a year without even sleeping.”

“Why does he want to skip sleep?” Vayl asked me.

“He’s studying to be a Bard,” I said. “Takes time, you know? He’d get there twice as fast if he could skip the Z’s.”

“Ah.”

“Speaking of skipping,” Cole interrupted, “Yousef says there’s a pothole coming up that’s big enough to swal ow us whole. Stay in the middle of the road.”

“Wil do,” I replied. For the rest of the trip I paid attention to the tanner and his interpreter, who continued pointing out the turns and the axle-breakers. I didn’t much mind the backseat driving because, dayum, my new wheels could put the power down! I suddenly wondered… was that al ?

It’d be just like Vayl, having trotted out the big surprise, to hold off on a little one like, “Oh, by the way, I had Bergman make a few modifications,” until he decided it was time to pop the details on me. I vowed to give the girl a good going over as soon as I had a free minute.

Which wasn’t now. Because we’d arrived at the Bab ed-Debbagh, a gray archway topped with a simple array of vertical stones. We parked in a lot outside the gate, piled out, and secured the car, fol owing Yousef onto cobbled streets that turned and twisted so many times before they released us into the city proper we had to wonder how anybody had ever conquered it. This close to dawn we only met a few farmers carting their wares to the souks to be sold later that morning. Otherwise, al we saw were feral cats nosing through piles of trash that had blown against the wal s of neglected red-wal ed homes that might once have housed rich merchants. Now they held the poorest citizens of Marrakech.

We ducked into lanes so narrow I could stretch out both arms and touch the wal s that fenced them. We bounded up staircases whose steps were so chipped and worn I could easily imagine the steady succession of invaders who had pounded up and down them in their quest to be the next great conquerors of a shining Moroccan city. And I wondered if it could possibly have stunk as bad back then as it did now.

Yousef stopped beside a doorway with a large pot of some dark green plant growing beside it. He broke off a piece for each of us and gestured for us to hold it under our noses. When we did, we inhaled the refreshing scent of mint, strong enough that the other smel barely got through.

Then he led us into an abandoned building whose windows might never have held glass, up stairs that had been formed of the same rough material as the wal s, and onto a roof that groaned occasional y, making me wonder just how much weight it could hold beyond the rusty metalwork railing that divided it into thirds. He took us to the edge, gestured below, and spoke.

Cole said, “We’re here.”

We looked down, our extra visual capabilities showing us a large open space, its uneven border shaped by the tal , windowless buildings just like ours that surrounded it. In the middle sat cement tubs that would shine so white in the sun I suspected looking at them without sunglasses could give you headaches. Some stood alone. Some were connected circles or squares, like Tetris blocks where the line is nearly finished, or where one in the shape of a backward L has fal en randomly next to another shaped like an I. Of the individual vats, a few looked to be a much darker color. Those had high rims that wouldn’t al ow accidental slippage, but many were dug so deeply into the ground that they worked as actual pools, and they were fil ed with a brew that looked certain to kil whatever touched it. Animal hides in various stages of tanning stretched across maybe a third of the vats and, gawd, the stench! Even with the mint stuffed against my nostrils I couldn’t get past it.

Yeah, I could believe the legends about this place. And that the Weres had decided to hide a demon’s tool here seemed like a stroke of genius. If Roldan could see us now he’d be howling as he regarded us from his comfy little beanbag throne in one of Valencia’s posher vil as.

“Go ahead, you pitiful schmucks,” he’d say. “Just try and find my needle in Marrakech’s nauseating little haystack.” To which I’d have to reply (after kicking him square in the teeth, of course), “We’ve got the map, ya douche. It’s not gonna be that hard.” If that was true, of course, some hel spawn or other would’ve retrieved the Rocenz a long time ago. But I didn’t need to be that honest with myself today.

We’ve got the map. We’ve got a tanner. How hard can
it be?
I assured myself as we crowded around the clue page Bergman had printed from Astral’s visual memory. I should’ve known better than to ask myself that question.

Vayl turned the map so the shapes on it matched the vats twenty feet below us. Most of us could see them without the aid of the two or three pole lights that worked so poorly they left the majority of the tannery in shadow. But Yousef, with his nose nearly brushing the paper, stil had to squint to make the images stand apart from one another.

Vayl said, “We need a light for our guide.” Sterling reached into one of his pants pockets and pul ed out a yel ow yo-yo that I recal ed from our last mission together. Its string, a thin black line that looked like it would tangle if you even looked at it funny, fit around his middle finger and then clipped into a groove on his left bracelet.

Holding the toy as if he meant to “walk the dog,” he tossed it toward the ground. As soon as it jerked to the end of its line it began to glow. By the time it had rol ed back up to where he could snag it, our warlock was holding a glow-globe.

He trained it on the map while Vayl said, “Cole, ask Yousef if any of this looks familiar to him.” Cole translated quickly, but his eyes weren’t on the prize. He was peering into the darkness, his expression so close to bitter he might’ve just swal owed a glass ful of cranberry juice. He didn’t seem to concentrate on Yousef’s reply, but his words were steady. “Of course the dyes we use are different than the ones shown in the map. But otherwise it looks right.”

Sterling’s light wavered, and an odd image caught my eye.

“Hey.” I pointed to his hand. “Hold that underneath the page, wouldja?”

Sterling moved the yo-yo beneath the paper. In one spot it seemed to reveal a second picture.

I’d been bending as close to it as I could manage considering I was shoulder to shoulder with four other people. Now I glanced up at Vayl. “There’s definitely something else here. I think the original map wasn’t just drawn, it was built, like those old paintings that have a second portrait hidden underneath. The real map is lying under a thin layer of material that’s got to be removed before we can figure out where the Rocenz is.”

“So we stil have to get the treasure scrol from the demon,” Cole said flatly.

“Yeah.” I watched him closely. Final y I said, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Even lit by the distant glow of Sterling’s light and detailed by my night vision, I could barely read Cole’s expression. If I had to guess I’d have said he was feeling about as much self-loathing as a young girl who’s mowed her way through an entire package of Chips Ahoy. But instead of saying, “I’ve been naive,” he said, “I’l kil her myself.”

Which was when I realized she’d gotten to him.

Somehow that bitch had wriggled through the cracks in his heart and set down roots. And I had no idea how to respond to the anger snapping in his eyes now. Except to be honest. “You can’t get that done on this plane.”

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t kil her at al .”

He glared at me. “Why not?”

“Because you’re mad at her.” I didn’t have to remind him of the first rule. I could see he remembered that we don’t kil when we’re angry, because that’s when we stop being assassins and become something else entirely. He was just standing in a place I’d been too many times myself. And he real y didn’t give a shit.

So we waited. Dawn approached. Vayl drove back to the riad. Yousef went down to work. But Kyphas never showed.

We began a watch, two on, one sleeping in the room nearest the roof access, al of us with our noses so deep in the mint we began to forget what real air smel ed like.

The room we picked felt like the rest of the tannery, stripped of everything beautiful, its bones dry and cracking, but stil of practical use. I’d been in worse places. Then I realized the brown stained wal s, the dirt-choked floors, the single hanging bulb that hadn’t felt a charge in decades weren’t depressing me. It was Cole, nursing an anger that fit him about as wel as a judge’s robes. And Sterling, il at ease enclosed in a space that sucked in the heat while it rejected light, air, and worst of al , music. He’d start to hum a tune and then trail off, like he’d forgotten the melody. Until he final y just stopped.

Yousef brought us meals, for which we paid him so wel that he nearly wept. And I tried not to develop an attachment to him. I liked his loyalty. It was just that I knew he hoped I’d reward him with a hearty slap on the cheek fol owed by a kick to the shin. And I couldn’t wrap my mind around that.

Didn’t even want to try.

At dusk Vayl returned. He took one look at us and said,

“We are going to the roof.”

As soon as we stepped into the open we felt better. I wondered how entire families survived in rooms like the ones we’d left, how they shielded their souls from the crushing hopelessness wal s and ceilings like those brought down on them. And I thought, looking sideways at Yousef and Kamal, who’d come to join us after their visit to the hammam, that some of them didn’t.

“Kamal,” I said, “tel Yousef that we’re expecting violence tonight. And if it comes, the two of you have to stay on the roof.”

When Kamal translated and I saw the excitement brighten Yousef’s face I nearly shook him. But I knew he’d enjoy it too much, so I just said, “It won’t be the kind of pain Yousef enjoys. You have to make him understand that. You could both die.”

Kamal half turned, like he wanted to bolt but his feet had somehow stuck to the floor. He whispered, “Who are you?”

“It’s better that you don’t know, okay? We need Yousef to read the map after we get it, but only when it’s safe.” I handed them both more euros than they’d ever seen. “We’l give you twice that when this is over. Just hang out here.

That’s al you have to do. Okay?”

Kamal nodded until Yousef pinched him and demanded some translating, dammit! Then he seemed even happier to cooperate than his buddy. To the point that they found us al rickety folding chairs to sit in while we watched and waited some more. My work is way exciting. Except for the times when it bores me out of my mind.

I couldn’t have been asleep long. My dreams had only begun to take on the detail of real life when Vayl shook me awake. I checked my watch. Three a.m. He motioned for me to join the rest of the crew at the edge of the roof, al squatting in a neat row like marksmen waiting for the bank robbers to come riding into town. Yousef and Kamal huddled on one end, whispering to each other. Next to them Sterling crouched, watchful as a stalking lion. Cole knelt to his left, grasping the hilt of his sword like he meant to pul and charge within the next couple of seconds. Vayl went to sit at his shoulder, waiting patiently until Cole turned to meet his eyes.

“Remember why we do this,” Vayl said. I’d sunk to my heels on the other side of him. Now he tilted his head toward me. “Jasmine cannot be free without the Rocenz.”

“I know that,” Cole snapped.

“Did you know she has been experiencing nosebleeds and headaches?”

We both stared. “Little escapes my attention when I am ful y attuned,” Vayl said.

“It’s nothing—” I began.

“He is kil ing you!” Vayl let me see the flecks of orange starting to paint over the stormy blue of his eyes before he turned them back to Cole. “Saving Jasmine is your priority tonight. Al else pales.”