Bite Marks (9 page)

“No.”

“I shit you not.”

Cassandra shook her head. “So hypocritical.”

“Yuh-huh. Anyhow, what you also didn’t realize is that gnomes only see a little better than moles. Some of our analysts think they’ve spent too much time belowground. Some suggest it’s a genetic malformation of the eye that could be corrected with surgery, or maybe even glasses. What matters to
us
is that if our little project here is successful, they won’t be able to retaliate if they see us, because we all pretty much look the same to them. Like we’ve all pulled stockings over our faces so the only details they pick up are eyeholes and nose bumps. But if they get a whiff of us they can follow us clear across the continent.

Because their sense of smell is almost as good as a bloodhound’s.”

“So”—Vayl nodded at her bag—“what have you got in there to help us out?”

“Why do you assume I’m carrying scent around with me?” Cassandra asked, somewhat defensively.

Vayl’s lip quirked. “Come now, Cassandra. I have seen you pull a tire patch kit from your purse.

Anyone that prepared is bound to have thrown in a supply of her favorite perfume.” She did a little sideways head bob, the kind you see on people who hate to admit they’ve just been caught in their own little obsession. She unsnapped the furbag and began rummaging around. “There’s nothing wrong with carrying backup supplies, you know. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve saved myself a trip to the store… Oh, here we go.”

She pulled out a bottle of Febreze.

Bergman took it from her hand and read the label. “Meadows & Rain.” He glanced at her as he spun the sprayer to on and did an experimental squeeze-’n’-sniff. “Not bad. Not my Axe, but fresh.” Cassandra resettled her straps on her shoulders and threw up her hands. “I know it’s strange, but right before David deployed, he asked me to bring him something that smelled like home, because he wanted to feel like he was with me while he was away. And this is what I use on my curtains between cleanings.

So I gave him a bottle to keep, and then I have this one to remind me that he’s smelling the same scent wherever he is.” She touched the blue plastic with an affectionate finger. “It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

“Yeah.” Bergman nodded. “It does.”

I gave him a little shove. “I can’t wait until you fall in love. You are going to act like the biggest dork, and we’re all going to make unmerciful fun of you.”

To my surprise he grinned and said, “Okay.”

We took turns spraying each other. By the time we were done, all of us, including Jack, smelled like a feminine-hygiene commercial.

“Hurry up and get in there,” I told my boss, giving his cane a nudge with my toe to encourage forward movement. “Or else you’re going to have to braid my hair while we watch Bergman and Cassandra cavort around in a field full of flowers.”

“At least Jack is not trying to make love to your leg,” Vayl said.

“I can’t believe you brought that up.” I glared at Bergman. “I still haven’t forgiven you for drenching me in dog pheromones, by the way. So just watch your step inside. This could be the perfect setup for my revenge.”

“Hey, it worked out great!” Bergman squeaked. “You got a new best friend out of the deal!” I looked down at my dog, who smiled up at me, his days as the pet of an international criminal mastermind a distant memory. “You are pretty cool,” I told him. “But we’re about to go into a bad place.

So behave yourself, all right?” He bumped his nose into my leg, his substitute for a reassuring pat.

I took a better grip on his leash as we watched Vayl squeeze past the wiggly gray tunnel cover. Bergman and Cassandra followed, with me and Jack bringing up the rear. No way could I crawl through the gently sloping passageway while holding a gun, so I reholstered Grief. Its weight didn’t provide the usual reassurance. Because according to Astral’s video, the path opened at the crossroads, so Vayl would have to deal with the guard alone.

He’ll be fine
.

My body, bent abnormally by the low ceiling, disagreed. It was like my aching back, my stiff neck, even my chafed knees, knew this setup sucked. But my mind kept fighting it.

He’s a vampire. What could go wrong?

Shut up, Brude!

Now what? I am trying to comfort you! Is that not what every good king does for his—

Knock it off!
I took a deep breath. Wiped the sweat off my upper lip.
Vayl’s not going to get his head
blown off. And I won’t be buried under tons of earth. The ceiling’s in great shape. It’s probably
held up for a hundred years.

On the other hand…
Fuck you, Pete! My next job had better be in the great wide open or, I swear,
I’m gonna pull out your two remaining hairs and staple them to your ears!

I took another breath. Realized I wasn’t going to panic, and felt myself relax. Slightly. Although I understood at some level that if I heard one sound that remotely reminded me of an earthquake I could well bolt, leaving all my friends to fend for themselves.

Wuss.

Deciding to deal with my neuroses later, I concentrated on Astral’s video feed. Saw the guard sniff the air, and take a second snort. Just as I realized he’d interpreted our Febreze for the intrusion it was, he drew the weapon he’d kept holstered at his side. Though it looked a lot like a sawed-off shotgun, I knew it worked on totally different principles.

People who live underground don’t like to make big bangs that could cause cave-ins. This gun, powered by air compressed and heated by the breath of his shaman, scattered polished granite shot in a broad pattern that allowed even the most myopic shooters to hit their targets.

“Vayl! He’s onto us!”

“Take cover!” Vayl ordered.

Bergman and Cassandra went flat.

“Astral!” I called as I drew Grief. “Go for that guard’s moving arm!” As Vayl lunged forward, trying to clear the tunnel before the guard could squeeze one off, I struggled to advance over my friends without crushing vital organs. Not easy when most of your vision is concentrated on robokitty’s attack. My eyes had such a hard time following her speed that my stomach lurched in protest.

Astral hit the guard just before he pulled the trigger. She snarled just like a real cat and sank every one of her claws through the cloth of his sleeve. He yelled in protest as his arm wavered, the shot went wide, and Vayl emerged from the tunnel, a visible cloud streaming from his shoulders as he dropped the room’s temperature enough to make the guard’s tail shiver and his teeth clack.

“Stay here or you’re gonna get frostbite,” I told my crew as I left the tunnel, Jack bounding after me. As a Sensitive I can take Vayl’s hits without icicles encasing my curls. And my malamute was made for cold weather.

Vayl grabbed the guard by his lapels with one hand while he knocked the gun to the floor with the other.

In a move even quicker than Astral’s he jerked the guard’s head to one side, baring his neck. One bite, one push of power, and his victim’s blood froze.

Vayl let the body fall. His grin, full-fanged and bloody, pulled a similar response from me. He stepped toward me, his power so full I could feel it rubbing between us like cool satin on hot skin. The scrape of boots on the floor made me spin around. Bergman and Cassandra had crawled out of the tunnel. I turned back to Vayl.

In that moment he’d pulled it all back, his jaw clenched so hard I was surprised it didn’t break. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “I will discover where this right-hand passage leads.”

“Oh. That—yeah. We’ll wait here.” I watched him go while Astral circled the chamber, awaiting new orders.

“That was… scary,” said Bergman, pointing to the guard’s throat.

“He’s an assassin. What did you expect?” I asked. I realized I was petting Jack, and not because
he
needed it. I stopped.

Bergman shrugged. “One shot through the forehead with a gun.”

“You watch too much TV.”

“Why do you keep looking after him?” he asked, jerking his thumb toward the tunnel Vayl had taken.

“Is he about to get into more trouble?”

I sighed and met Bergman’s gaze. “No, I was just wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

Should I explain? This guy wanted to partner with me. Which meant maybe he should know. Especially if it would back him off of a deal that might not be that great for his health. I pointed at the corpse. “What do you see?”

“A dead guy.”

“What else?”

He looked closer. So did Cassandra. It was like they thought I’d asked them to solve a puzzle. He said,

“Nice, clean uniform that makes him seem like he’s about to march in a parade. Shiny shoes.

Well-maintained weapon. No rings, so I guess he was single.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what else.” I said, “He was alive a few seconds ago. Breathing. Thinking. Trying to make us dead. But we won. We put him down, for good. Vayl and I, we’re not right, Bergman. After a kill we don’t stand around and analyze the remains like you just did. We jubilate. You get it? Inside, we’re freaking high. Because we took that evil spark and crushed it. Just like God.”

When he began to look a little sick I realized he’d begun to understand. I said, “That’s why he had to leave. So you wouldn’t see us—like that. So he could remind himself he’s not even close to God. More the opposite.”

Which was why he needed me. And why I needed my old buddy Miles. Not to mention my new pal Cassandra.

Huh.

Funny what you discover after a kill.

While we waited for Vayl to come down from the rush, I went through the guard’s pockets. Found some dice, a wad of bills to prove they were loaded, a dirty handkerchief—“Catch, Bergman!” He dodged it. “Gross!”

Chuckling, I continued my search. Nothing else in the pockets. Around the neck an amulet with the image of Ufran on one side and a star on the other. I took it.

“That seems a little sacrilegious,” Cassandra protested.

“It’s because of their religion that we’re here,” I reminded her. “Besides, we know a lot of these are used as hides for important papers.” I tossed it to Bergman. “See if you can find a latch.” The guard had nothing else of interest on him, unless you counted a tattoo that showed like a bruise on his sun-starved calf. “Another star,” Cassandra said.

“It’s their symbol for purity,” I told her. “The star means he could trace his ancestry back at least ten generations and they were all small, squat, and blue-schnozzed. In other words, pure gnomes.” Cassandra cocked her head to the side. “I can only imagine what they think of Americans, most of you of such mixed blood.”

“Let’s put it this way. They picked at least two dudes to infect with their larvae, and both came from the States. I know what that says to me.”

“Got it!” Bergman held the amulet in both hands now, its Ufran face flipped open to reveal a hidey-hole packed with folded white paper. I snatched it and unfolded it. Barely big enough to fit in my palm, it held a crudely drawn picture.

Some of it I got right away. I knew Ufran’s symbol, the star with the smiley face in its center, so I recognized it hanging in the sky. The gnomes standing on a hill, bowing down to it, I recognized from the pinecone-shaped tufts at the ends of their tails. Though I didn’t quite get why an arrow had been drawn pointing to one in particular. Then I realized he was wearing the distinctive asparagus-carved headdress of the shaman. But I didn’t understand the word that had been written above his head.
Ylmi.

The artist had also drawn another group of crowned figures standing in front of a closed gate at the foot of a second hill. They all pointed their scepters to a grass tree from which protruded the trunk of another tree, one that looked to have burned in a recent brushfire. Of everything, the crowns made the least sense to me. As far as I knew, gnomes governed by smackdown. Nobody dared to call themselves royalty, much less wear head jewelry, for fear they’d be drummed out of the tribe for putting on airs the next time they lost a battle.

Though I didn’t understand the entire message, that’s definitely what it was. And I suddenly knew that was how I could communicate my previous idea to Cassandra without letting Brude know! “Bergman, I need to borrow a pen.”

He dug one out of his ever-present pocket guard and handed it over. I sat on the floor.
Granny May? I
need you to tell Cassandra what I was thinking. You know, while I distract Brude.
It might’ve been the hardest mental exercise I’d ever tried. Writing a note with the wisest part of my mind while having a heated argument with the Domytr in possession of its major controlling unit. But in the end I’d managed to piss him off royally as I created a message to Cassandra that said,
I think you should hide out in this
warren until we’ve killed the demon. I know it’s scary, but you’re smart. Find the deepest, darkest
corner of the place and just be still. We’ll come for you as soon as we can.

She read it twice, nodded, and pocketed it. I signaled for Bergman to hang the amulet back around the guard’s neck. I expected him to get all icky-poo on me. He did it without complaining, but he did wipe his hands down the sides of his pants several times after.

Vayl returned, explaining that he’d explored the tunnel far enough to discover it led to the industrial center of the warren, where they heated the water they used to power the warren, and where they’d built the artificially lit farms they called gnoves.

“Let us take the alternate route,” he suggested. “I believe Ruvin’s family waits at the end of it.”

“Along with the rest of the town,” I said.

“Just so,” said Vayl. “Which is why you must all stay directly behind me. I will be able to camouflage our approach.”

“Except for the scent of Febreze?” Cassandra suggested.

Vayl considered her comment. Then he said, “The guard was expecting trouble. These creatures will not be. You would be amazed at what busy, self-absorbed people never see or choose to ignore.” She watched us both for a second. “I suppose, knowing how successful you two have been at this kind of work, I’ll have to take your word on that.”