Biting the Bullet (14 page)

Because I kinda wanted to kill him.

Never mind the fact that he should be . . . we should be . . . well, it’s about time for fireworks between us and he’s taken
off with the lighter. Not to mention we’re planning a major hit in enemy territory and his first choice is to go trotting off to
visit a psychic!
I fumed.
How stupid is that?

Not stupid. Desperate. After all this time, he’s still a grief-stricken father. Really, what would you do if you thought you
could be with Matt again?

But that’s just it. I can’t. I accept that now. We had our time. And it was glorious.

But if he came back today?

My mind wouldn’t go there. But Vayl’s had, almost right away. So I had to wonder, for his sake, what do you do when it’s over before you’re ready for it to be over? Do you chase that relationship, that role you assumed, for the rest of your existence? Was Vayl looking for his sons because he couldn’t give up fatherhood? Because it made him the person he wanted most to be?

I had asked him about Hanzi and Badu once. “So you want to meet them? Make friends? Be . . . a father to them?”

“I
am
their father!” he’d snapped. “That is the one, incontrovertible truth of my existence.” If so, what did that mean for us? Somehow I knew other women before me had stood in the dust of his wake as wagon, horse, stagecoach, and train bore him away on yet another wild chase for his boys.

“No,” I murmured. “Not me. I’m not losing another one.” I barely heard myself as I descended from the roof. On such a badly lit street, it was easy to keep to the shadows, avoid detection, as I shadowed him.

Which was why I sensed the reaver long before he could get a bead on me.

Something at the entrance to my sinuses went, “Holy crap, that’s just disgusting!” Though it wasn’t as much an odor as an awareness that something monstrous had entered the neighborhood. I peered over my shoulder. There, unmistakable, that black outline. He loped down the narrow street behind me, one hand flopping at his waist as if he’d been running for miles. The other held a cell phone to his ear. Every few seconds the flop hand reached up and swatted at something that seemed to buzz around his head.

I eased into the gap between a hand-lettered sign that had been tied to a storefront and the smooth, weathered stone of the building itself. I figured to let him go. He couldn’t nail me now that I was protected. And I couldn’t risk the mission by outing myself, even if it was to rid the world of a soul-stealing monster. Maybe after we were done I could come back. Do some cleanup.

I’d just begun working out the logistics in my mind when the reaver passed me. “I’m telling you, Samos,” he growled into the phone, “we followed her to this area and then she just disappeared.” Up went the flop hand. Swat, swat, though no bugs had bothered me the whole time I’d been outside. “We thought we could catch her using this one body, but it’s going to take some time to find her now. We need more.” He jerked his eyes left, right, left again. “Shut up,” he growled, as if to invisible listeners. “I’m telling him, aren’t I?” Either the guy had multiple personality disorder, or . . .

I slipped out of my hiding place, following him as stealthily as I could. Though he was so distracted by his phone call and the need to flail every few seconds I don’t think he’d have seen me if I’d walked past him naked.

“I don’t care what you have to do!” the reaver snapped. “You’re the Sponsor and we need bodies. This form was not made to hold six reavers at once. Its brain is shorting out. You wouldn’t believe what it’s starting to see!” He listened for a few more seconds. “You’re the one who’s lost an
avhar
,” he finally hissed. “If you want your revenge on the Lucille, you’re going to have to do better than that!”

My hands itched to grab that phone. God, if only I was free to follow this lead! I might be able to pin down Samos’s location from the signal.

“Channel Fourteen?” said the reaver, “Yes, this body is familiar with it.” He listened intently, and from the way his shoulders relaxed, liked what he heard. “You’re sure they’ll be receptive?” Short pause, shorter nod. “Excellent. I’ll contact you when it’s done.” He ended the call, pocketed the phone, batted at his unseen pests, and changed course.

I stood in the shadows, debating. Maybe it would be better to take him out after all. Right now he seemed to be in a weakened condition. If I waited until later, he’d have infested five more bodies, and it was hard enough to kill one of them.

Okay, not so tough when you have Dave’s kick-ass colleagues in tow. But I doubt we’ll be able to sail through Tehran with
our Manxes on display when we finally have time for a reaver hunt. Plus, there’s the phone to consider. No. I’ve got to do
this now.

I reached underneath the shapeless black manteau I’d thrown over my inside clothes. Began to slide my bolo from the pocket of my sky-blue pants as I stepped into the street. I stopped immediately, my forward progress suddenly blocked by a broad-shouldered, white-bearded man dressed in a black pullover with elaborate embroidery around its V-neck, matching black pants, and sandals. It was the words he said as much as his imposing physical presence that shut me down.

“Please do not kill the reaver tonight, Jasmine.” He pronounced my name Yaz-mee-na, just like Vayl does. “The mahghul may not have come for you, but they will take you if you spill blood in this place this evening.” His gesture invited me to scan the rooftops, but I took a good look at him instead.

He towered over me, his royal-blue turban probably putting him close to six and a half feet tall. His droopy eyes and long nose gave him a despondent air. Kinda like a Persian Eeyore.

“How do you know me?” I demanded, glancing in the direction he’d pointed. Even with my night vision activated I couldn’t see anything moving above us.

“This is my home. It is my business to know who comes and goes here.”

“Actually, in this case, no. It’s not.”

When he smiled his whole face joined in, from the crinkles in his forehead to the curls in his beard. He held out his hand. “My name is Asha Vasta.”

I declined to shake. “How do you know about reavers?”

I found his sigh eerily familiar. It so closely echoed the one Vayl put to use after I’d lost my temper. Usually it was followed by words like “How can you stare through the scope of a rifle for three hours without saying a word and yet, as soon as you hit traffic, begin yelling? Like that. Can you be sure that man is an idiot? Maybe he has low blood sugar. And that woman you just compared to a female dog. Perhaps she just learned her husband is in the hospital and she is rushing to be with him.” I’m sure the cosmos has a greater purpose for surrounding me with patient people. But mostly it just makes me want to scream.

Like now, while I waited for Asha Vasta to get the lead out and make with the explanations. While he pondered his reply I took another look upstairs, past the drab, window-filled walls of an old apartment building. There. A blur of movement out of the corner of my eye, but nothing more concrete. “I’ve never heard of the mahghul,” I said.

“I am not surprised. Though quite ancient, they have been confined by their creator to this land alone.” I thought he was going to go into more detail about the mahghuls’ maker, but he just shook his head sadly. “I am afraid they have found abundant fodder from which to feed and have, therefore, thrived when otherwise they might have perished.”

“So what are they?”

“They are parasitic fiends, seen by humans only when their blood has run. They can smell a murder coming days, sometimes even weeks, before it occurs. They flock to the rooftops, waiting, watching. But more than that. Making the husband think,
My wife has
looked at another man
. Making the business partner suspect,
The books are unbalanced because I am being cheated
. Making the daughter believe,
There will never be an end to my misery. I might as well die
.”

“You can’t seriously be telling me some sort of otherworldly ambulance chaser makes people kill each other. Or themselves.

Whatever happened to freedom of choice?”

“Certainly their suggestions would never work if people’s minds were not already open. If they were not already willing to listen.” Asha shook his head. “You would not believe how many are.”

I glared up into the darkness. “Why can’t I see them?”
After all, I’m not quite human anymore
. And then, to soothe the savage tear that thought put in my heart,
at least in the ways that don’t matter
.

“It is easier if you know their favorite roosting spots. There. Right at the corner of that roof, where it juts out slightly. Do you see?” I couldn’t have without the extra visual acuity I’d gained by donating blood, and gaining power, from Vayl. And even then I got more of an impression than an actual photo image. Cat size. Bat wings. Alarming foot speed, aided by four muscular legs accentuated by impressive talons.

“What are those spikes beneath their eyes?” I asked.

“Their most terrifying aspect. In the moments of murder, the mahghul drive the spikes into the brains of both the victim and the murderer, and through them feed off the fury, the terror, all strong emotions such violence invokes. They leave no memory of their own attack. And so they can follow a murderer for years before the authorities put an end to their frenzy.”

“How do you fight them?”

“With you it is always the fight, is it not?”

“How —”

He held up a finger, signaling he hadn’t finished his thought. “Sometimes the best way to win a brawl is never to begin it in the first place.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “People are so good at that.”

“I can see why Raoul chose you.”

I took a step back. “You know Raoul?” I grabbed his shirt and yanked him into the recessed doorway of the nearest store, a bakery that looked like it had been plucked out of the thirties, with bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling and day-old breads displayed in the dusty window. Within seconds I’d pulled my bola and stuck the tip of the blade to the base of his throat. “You’re working for the Magistrate, aren’t you? What’s your plan, huh? Do you really think Raoul gives a shit whether or not one of his peons bites the bullet? He’s got thousands like me.” Well, at least one that I knew of.

Asha’s eyes, colored a sickly green by my night vision, rounded with alarm. “The mahghul,” he whispered. The flap of wings, the scratch of claws on concrete, confirmed his warning. “Jasmine, do not bring this plague upon yourself.”

“What makes you think you’ll be spared?”

“I am Amanha Szeya.”

“What’s that mean?”

“They sucked me dry long ago.”

I guess Asha and I stood in that darkened doorway another minute before I sheathed my knife and the mahghul retreated. He hadn’t tried to fight. That counted in his favor. So did the long-suffering expression on his face. Mostly, though, it was the thunderous voice in my ears, Raoul’s, shouting, “BACK OFF!” Okay, so I’d pulled a knife on one of the good guys. Did he have to yell?

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I’ve never drawn on an innocent before.”

Asha’s lips drooped into a sad smile. “I cannot remember a time when I was pure. But thank you.” I rubbed my eyes. Looked to the rooftops and realized the mahghul weren’t just moving. They were gathering. “Hey. That’s Soheil Anvari’s building.”

“Yes.”

“I knew it! The minute I saw her face. She’s going to kill him out of self-defense, isn’t she? Or is he going to beat her to death?

Either way, isn’t there something we can do?”

When Asha didn’t immediately answer, I looked him in the eye. He seemed . . . confused. “You are talking about Zarsa and Soheil, are you not?” he asked slowly.

“Yeah.”

“They are very happily married. Deeply in love, in fact, with four wonderful children. Neither would dream of lifting a hand against the other.”

“But I saw her tonight. She was veiled, but I still caught the black eye.”

“Oh, that.” Asha chuckled. “Yes, she was sitting on the floor with her youngest son on her lap, reading a book to him. When she turned the page the picture frightened him. He sat back quickly, knocking his head into her eye. She did not want people to think Soheil had done such a thing, so she went veiled.”

“But, Asha, she
was
miserable. You can’t fake that.”

“Yes, something has happened to change her. Something vile and traumatic. The mahghul have sensed it. I fear she will take her own life.”

I leaned against the glass of the storefront and thought,
Wrong again, Jaz. Grace wasn’t the mole. Asha wasn’t a bad guy. And
Soheil wasn’t beating Zarsa. Hey, what do you say we go for four out of four and just assume this whitewash on your
demon Mark is going to work forever and ever, amen?

“Why does Zarsa matter so much?” I asked.

“The future she chooses could change the course of this country.”

Oh, is that all?
“Do you want me to go talk to her?”

He regarded me with those basset hound eyes. “I think, perhaps, it would be more helpful if you spoke to Vayl.” Where have you been?” Vayl wasn’t angry. I could tell by the gleam in his eye. The twitch in his lip. Any other man would’ve danced me across the floor when I walked through the door.

“Scoping out the neighborhood,” I told him. “I didn’t feel comfortable not knowing how to get in and out of here.” I hated lying to him so much that I promised myself I’d do some actual scouting the minute I had time.

“We must talk.” He led me to the sofa.

“Where is everybody?” I asked.

“Cassandra and Bergman are in the kitchen, working on the project I gave them. Cole went with David and his team to scout the Hotel Sraosa in case they need an interpreter. Do not worry, we can talk freely. Bergman has carded the entire house.”

“Did he find any more bugs?”

“No.” Vayl brushed off my question as if it was inconsequential and gestured for me to sit down. “I have exciting news,” he said as he joined me.

“You do?”