Biting the Bullet (12 page)

With a bench to one side and a gleaming vase full of red silk flowers to the other, the room had barely been built to house one full-grown man, much less the additional couple he let into the house. Even as the gentleman caller introduced himself, the three of them trooped up the stairs to join us.

“Hello, hello, I am so very glad to meet you. I am Soheil Anvari, the caretaker of this apartment building and this is my wife, Zarsa.

We saw you arrived right on schedule. The owner asked that we should stop by to make sure you were finding yourselves comfortably placed. Is everything all right, then?” Soheil beamed. A lean, mustached man of maybe forty-five, he exuded goodwill like worms crap compost. And I’d have bought it, by golly.

Except for the wife.

She went heavily veiled. Inside, where it wasn’t required. It wasn’t quite as bad as the old pictures of women wearing blue tents with eye slits. But she’d come damn close. And that yellowish purple hue around her right eye couldn’t be the latest craze in makeup. It looked to me like Soheil had been making free with the domestic violence.

My temper’s got a fuse, and Soheil had definitely started a slow burn. Slow because I knew I couldn’t afford an explosion anytime in the near future. But when the moment was right . . .

I met Zarsa’s eyes. The depth of misery I saw in those dark brown orbs put me in mind of burned beds and poisoned coffee.

Desperate measures taken by terrified, trapped women. I wondered if Zarsa had already reached her limit. If Soheil would

“accidentally” slip in the shower and break his neck in the fall before I had a chance to exact some vengeance on his wife-beating ass.

“Everything is excellent, thank you so much,” said Cole.

“You are students, yes?” asked Soheil.

“Yes,” Cole agreed, “here to perfect our Farsi. May I try my hand on a native speaker?” Soheil held out his arms as if to welcome Cole to the Farsi family, and they launched into a five-minute conversation interspersed with bursts of hearty laughter. Finally Soheil said, “You will do very well, I expect. I am so happy you have chosen to study here.

And in your free hours, you must visit my shop! It is just down the street.” He motioned south, no doubt toward the market about six blocks away.

We’d passed it on the way in, while the stores were still shut tight, their glass and cement facades reminding me so much of home that their brightly colored banners bearing odd, squiggly writing almost startled me. It had been close enough to dawn that the street sellers were already setting up in the alleyways, heaping homegrown goodies on large round trays that sat on the boxes they’d carted them to town in. We’d seen men wearing ball caps and jeans pushing ancient wheelbarrows full of turnips to the edge of the sidewalk while women cloaked in black crouched next to crates of apples, dates, and peaches, their backs resting against stone walls painted with glyphs of blessing from the goddess Enya.

Soheil went on. “Ours is the glass-fronted store with the large yellow signs all across the top. You cannot miss it. We sell only the best in clothing and shoes. And my wife does readings in the back. She is quite popular with the students.”
Here we go. Definitely time to act all interested and girly
. “What kind of readings?” I asked. I went for breathless and wide-eyed and figured I succeeded when Cole smirked at me behind our vistors’ backs.

“She will tell you of your future. All you need do is let her touch the palm of your hand. She can also help you recover what has been lost. Or, if you prefer, guide you toward true love.”

Huh
. I wondered if Zarsa belonged to Cassandra’s Sisters of the Second Sight guild. I was thinking . . . not. “That sounds wonderful!”

Soheil said something to Zarsa in Farsi. Obediently, she pulled a small brown square of heavy paper embossed with gold writing out of her pocket. “In case you get lost,” he explained with his charming grin. “Just show this to anyone on the street and they will direct you to our shop.”

“Thank you!” I said, taking the card from Zarsa’s outstretched hand. I avoided touching her. All I needed was for her to divine the real reason I’d come to Iran. Even in her present state, she’d probably still feel obliged to turn me in to the authorities. Eventually Albert might put up a tombstone for me, but my epitaph would probably read “And She Was Never Seen Again.” They left shortly after that. After a communal sigh of relief, Natch announced it had to be time for chow.

“Hey, we’re pretending to be regular people, ya mook,” said Cam, “and regulars don’t say ‘chow.’ ”

“They do if they’re Italian,” Natch replied, for which he got a punch on the shoulder, which erupted into a three-man wrestling match once Jet joined in, with Amazon Grace officiating. She didn’t have many rules. As far as I could tell the only things she wouldn’t allow were eye gouging and spitting. In the end she declared herself the winner and made the men carry her to the kitchen.

Dave shook his head at his crew, but the look he gave me as he followed them out of the living room spoke volumes.
How can one
of them be the enemy when it’s so obvious they love each other like family? Why can’t I be wrong about this whole,
horrible situation?

But he wasn’t. Someone on his team had telegraphed their position to the Wizard six weeks ago, which was why his informant, the werejackal, was dead today. Dave definitely had a mole. But neither Cole nor I had picked up any signals during the game that made us suspect one man over another. All we’d done was find out how much we liked and respected all three.

The party continued through supper, just rations we’d brought with us, and moved into the kitchen as we transported our mess back to where it had originated. The room surrounded us with a cozy, college days feel despite the white-tiled walls that tried to make it resemble an OR. The sink and appliances, all stainless steel, surrounded a tile-topped island that had been furnished with four stools. These were covered with bright yellow material that matched the cabinet doors and transformed the room from nauseating to cheerful.

Cole was hunting soap for the dishwasher, Cassandra was scraping plates, and Cam had just begun to tell the story of how Dave had led the raid that netted two of the Wizard’s top men, when my ring sent a shaft of heat up my arm.

He’s awake! Alive! Whatever! Okay, calm down. How old are you anyway? Geesh!
I looked down at my right hand, trying to distract myself from the rush of excitement that made it hard to deny how much I’d missed my boss for the past twelve hours.

I nearly whispered the ring’s name. Not because I knew it meant “Guardian.” But because I loved the way the word sounded coming off my tongue.
Cirilai.
Like a long, soft kiss. And I valued both the craftsmanship and power Vayl’s family had put into the gold and ruby masterpiece that protected his soul. And my life.

I used my thumb to turn the ring, watched the gems snatch the light and throw it out again, a thousand times clearer and more beautiful than it had been to begin with. I wished I could do that with my life. So much confused me lately. I rarely went through a day knowing anything for sure. Maybe I could at least discover something concrete about Cirilai. Even if Vayl couldn’t — wouldn’t

— fully explain the relationship it symbolized.

Oh, I knew the basics. In the Vampere world we’d be considered a couple of some sort. His
sverhamin
to my
avhar
. Certain rules applied, only a few of which I knew. He had to reveal anything I wanted to know about his past. In return — well — pretty much, I had to make sure he didn’t turn into a towering asshole, take over some small country, and eat his neighbors.

But deeper complexities existed within our bond that Vayl had promised to reveal over time. He said if he gave it to me in one lump my circuits would melt. I suspected if I knew the whole story I’d run to the nearest airport, crash the pilot’s lounge, and promise the first uniform I met my life’s savings if he’d get me out of town, like, yesterday.

And yet even if I was coward enough to run, I knew I’d return. Because something more lasting and powerful than gold and rubies connected us. Blood. Once in Florida and again in Texas Vayl had set those soft, full lips against my skin and sank his fangs into my throat. The first time I’d been offering him a chance to survive. The second he’d been giving me the ability to save countless lives.

But, more than that, we’d found in those moments a bond so basic and pure that, while we silently acknowledged it, we never spoke of it. As if to do so might curse it.

Cam’s story distracted me from my thoughts. “So here I am thinking this is the easiest takedown of all time, when Dave steps up to the Wizard’s right-hand man to ask him a question. And this guy, JahAn, goes ballistic. Starts screaming at Dave, who’s kind of smiling, playing it nice and cool. After all, what can the guy do, right? He’s tied up nice and tight. But somehow his buddy, Edris, has wiggled free, and he’s the one we should be worrying about. But he’s staying nice and quiet in his chair. At least that’s what we think.”

Cam looked around the room, stretching the tension just enough to make even the guys who’d been there lean forward with anticipation. “JahAn is practically foaming at the mouth he’s so pissed. Dave is asking him how long he’s worked for the Wizard when Edris jumps him. Goes straight for the throat, and though we pull him off quick, there’s a ton of blood under Dave’s hands, which he’s crossed over his larynx. Plus he’s been knocked out.”

Cam shook his head, his eyes dimming as he remembered their fears. “Lucky for us, he came to right away and most of the blood turned out to belong to Edris. He’d scraped his wrists raw getting free. Turned out he’d just nicked Dave with a fingernail. I’ve seen worse paper cuts. The actual impact caused more damage. He had a hard time talking for a couple of days after that. Most peaceful forty-eight hours I ever spent in the service,” Cam said, chuckling.

The appreciative laughter trickled off quickly when Vayl entered the kitchen. I kept my seat, but I was practically the only one. As soon as he opened the fridge and pulled out a plastic bag full of blood the room cleared like an elementary school during a fire drill.

Clatter of tableware. Mumbled excuses.

“Don’t worry,” I called after Dave’s people as they ran for cover, “we’ll do the dishes.” Apparently Spec Ops types don’t mind seeing blood coming out. Or being the cause of it. But going in? Different story altogether.

Within five minutes of Vayl’s entrance, my crew and I had the place to ourselves. Even Dave had left. Feeling guilty for sitting out the card game? Maybe.
Or
, my conscience, a country-club regular with flawless makeup and 2.5 child-star wannabes goaded me,
does he just hate to be reminded of who, and how, Jessie might have been if you hadn’t staked her
?

And suddenly I was back there, in the townhouse I’d shared with Matt. Barely moving. Barely breathing, three days after his death, dragging my butt to the kitchen because some ass would not stop knocking. I checked to make sure my gun’s safety was engaged before flipping on the light. I threw open the door. Took a big step back.

Jessie stood on the threshold. “Let me in,” she begged, looking over her shoulder as if she’d met the bogeyman and he was actually scarier than her.

“No.”

“Jasmine, please. They’re going to experiment on me! They’re going to do tests and shoot me full of chemicals like I’m some kind of lab monkey!”

I believed every word. She’d been turned by Aidyn Strait’s nest, and he loved his weird science. I said, “Jessie, go away. Don’t make me keep my promise.”

Her eyes flickered. Maybe the change had made her forget the vow we’d made. We had both believed that to become vampire meant one agreed to relinquish her soul. And the only way to get it back . . .

“Let me in,” she commanded, holding my gaze. It might have worked before the battle. But already I had changed. The Sensitivity had kicked in and vampires could no longer hypnotize me. I aimed the modified Walther PPK Bergman had made for me at Jessie’s heart. I’d already disabled the safety. Pushed the magic button. The bolt I sent into her chest flew true. I held her eyes until the very last moment, but I’ll never know if I saw relief in them. Or if I was just wishing.

I looked at the gun in my hand as the smoke from my best friend, my late sister-in-law, wafted away in the cold November breeze and told it, “You give me nothing but grief.”

The clack of Vayl’s porcelain mug against the tile of the countertop brought me back to the present. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

I searched his face. “I’m wondering if it’s always right to keep your promises.”

“Yes.” He said it so instantly I felt stunned, as if he’d unexpectedly thrown something and hit me with it before I could catch it.

“Aw, come on,” said Cole, “not always.”

“Always,” Vayl insisted. “This is one of the reasons I have made you my
avhar,
Jasmine. A promise is a sacred bond, never to be breached.”

“You sound like a third grader,” Bergman said, adjusting his glasses as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Vayl made one of those irritated noises unique only to him. Like a huff, but more masculine. “Perhaps because children know how important trust is. Only when they are repeatedly betrayed by adults do they finally give up believing they can ever find it in even a single person.”

These were the times I liked Vayl best. I could’ve set my chin on my hands and just watched him talk for hours. Usually I didn’t see squat behind that statuelike facade. The only peek I often got into the turmoil of emotion that I suspected he barely kept in check was the changing hues of his remarkable eyes. But every once in a while the mask would crack and I’d see how important he thought it was, not just to be human, but to be good. Hokey, I know, but the dude’s nearly three hundred. He’s allowed.

“What?” he asked me.

“I don’t know. I . . . I guess I’m glad you feel that way. It makes me feel better about a promise I kept.”