Bitten in Two (17 page)

I felt something impeding my hand, which wanted badly to reconstruct the picture in my head, and realized it was a broad, hard chest. I rol ed my head straight, letting the wal behind me provide support for a heaviness I was pretty sure my neck couldn’t yet handle, and peered up at my
sverhamin
. He stared down at me, his eyes dark as a forest path. I watched him lick my blood from his lips. Felt him press his handkerchief against my wound, his fingers so warm I could feel each one of them through the linen.

“You are too generous with me, my Jasmine, you always have been.”

“What?” I slapped my hand against his so he couldn’t back away. “What did you cal me?”

His eyebrows twitched. “Are you quite al right?”

“What is my name?” I demanded.

“Madame Berggia, of course. It always has—”

“You just cal ed me Jasmine.”

He pul ed his hand away, leaving me to hold the temporary bandage. Even if I hadn’t been able to read irritation in the lines between his forehead and beside his lips, I’d have sensed his withdrawal from a mile away. No wonder Wraiths were often found encased in the ice of their own breath. Eventual y you get so cold nobody wants to touch you.

He said, “If I did, which I am certain I did not, it was no doubt a slip of the tongue engendered by the fact that I have been corresponding with a lovely woman from this city who goes by that name.”

“You’re so ful a shit,” I muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“I said I need to learn to knit.” I began trudging in the direction of Sister Hafeza’s shop. I was real y trying to feel like crap. It seemed like the appropriate moment and al .

But my postdonation high had kicked in, big-time. And I had to think Vayl whispering my name was a hopeful sign. An unbreakable curse showed no weak seams to begin with.

I’d just found one. Which meant this state Vayl had found himself didn’t have to be permanent after al .

If I skipped down the street, would he pul out the pockhole and try to fire me again? It might be fun to tel him to shove the snooty. Only then I wouldn’t get to read any more hot love letters.
Oh! No, I didn’t… yup. Just shower
me with confetti now, girls. Because I’ve just dreamed up
the best note motivator ever!

I said, “Speaking of that Jasmine chick. She didn’t just have a courier drop her letter by. She brought it herself.

While you were, uh, sleeping.”

“What? I missed her?” I didn’t dare look at him; he’d pick up on my barely disguised glee. “Did she resemble the portrait?”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“Oh. You know how artists take liberties.”
Aw, man, don’t tell me 1777 Vayl is shallow too!

“Would it matter?” I asked.

“Not the least,” he said. “But now I know the face I envision every time I close my eyes is genuinely hers.”

“Oh, okay. Wel , uh, then you could understand why she wanted to take a look at you too.”

“She… wanted to see me? During my day-sleep?”

“Wel , we said no. But this girl, she’s very strong-wil ed.

Just insisted. Said things like she couldn’t go another day without gazing upon your manly visage or some such thing.

And we couldn’t be responsible for her jumping off a parapet, could we? So, you know, we gave her a peek.” Now I just had to look. Vayl was staring down the street we’d turned onto, past the crowds of pedestrians, into a world that looked like it kinda freaked him out. “What did she say?” he whispered.

“She was concerned that you sleep with your mouth open. Because, you know, bugs and dust can get in.”

“Oh.” Destitute. What, had he forgotten the note already? I decided to let him off the hook.

“And she liked your butt.”

He jerked his eyes to mine. “What?”

“Of course, being a lady, she couldn’t say it out loud.

But you were lying on your side, so there it was, al outlined by your, um, that thing you wear to bed. And I could just tel .” His chest swel ed with the breath he took. “I wil write her tonight. I wil demand to meet her.” His hands clenched.

I could tel he was imagining what he wanted to do to her…

me… with them. It took my breath away.

When I final y managed to gulp myself back to reality, I said, “What about the vamp she’s with? Aren’t you worried about him at al ?”

Vayl’s voice dropped into the sexy growl that set parts of me on fire. “She wil leave him wil ingly once we have…

spoken. I am sure of it.”

Me too.
“Um, Lord Brâncoveanu?”

“Yes, Madame Berggia.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how many women have you… you know… since you became a vampire?” He shrugged. “I have lost count. For a time
all
I knew were women, as if only they could keep me from completely destroying myself.”

I imagined Vayl rol ing in a virtual sea of naked bimbos and felt sick. “Oh.”

“I have tried many avenues of excess, Madame Berggia. None of them have given me the reward which I Berggia. None of them have given me the reward which I seek. But somehow, looking at this portrait of Jasmine, I feel she may be the key.”

“Uh.”
Me? The key? More likely the nitro that blows the
key to bits.

“Perhaps Madame Hafeza can confirm my suspicions.”

“Wel , there’s her shop.” I pointed to a two-story building in the middle of the block, the door of which had been left open to al ow the night breezes in. Above it hung a sign bearing the international symbol for psychic, a pentagram with the Seeing Eye at its center.

We stepped inside, the smel s of incense and dried herbs covering the scents of the street behind us. Al we could see was a single room, as broad and deep as a bus station, with light wooden shelves lined up to form three wide aisles halfway to the back. Finely woven carpets covered every inch of the floor, and the wal s were tiled, not in some typical geometric pattern, but on one side to depict a woman with flying blue hair riding a stal ion across the desert. On the other side litter bearers carried a queenly figure down a palm-lined street.

The shelves were packed with books. Smal plaques on the edges organized them into categories—if you spoke Arabic or French. I did see a few titles in English. But nothing I’d ever heard of.

Vayl whistled. “Sister Hafeza must be immensely wealthy to have col ected so many tomes in one location.” As if she’d heard her name, a woman nearly six feet tal threw open the beads that curtained off the back room and strode up behind the blue-tiled counter that held a cash register, credit card machine, matching black containers for office supplies, and a pack of tarot cards.

“You’re here!” she announced in a deep alto. I took in her heavily shaded eyelids and cheekbones, perfectly outlined lips, and long red nails. She wore an ankle-length dress in pink satin that, along with her strappy heels and curly brunette updo, screamed nineties prom. The Adam’s apple sealed the deal.

“Sister Hafeza?” I said.

Vayl pointed at her. “That is a man!”

Aw, shit.

I wanted to smack myself in the forehead. Or club Vayl in the back of his. I forced a smile, the kind only Lucil e Robinson can shine on impossible situations. “He’s sick,” I told Hafeza.

“I am not!”

I ignored him. “He thinks it’s 1777.”

“It is!”

“See?” I looked at him. “Tel me you’re not this big of a schmuck about transgender people in the twenty-first century.” I turned back to Hafeza. “Or do I misunderstand?

Are you just into the clothes or—”

“No,” she confirmed. “I was born in the wrong body.”

“There is no such thing!” Vayl bel owed.

“See there?” I pointed at my boss. “He never yel s. Or swears. But lately that’s al I get.”

Vayl stepped forward, his brows a straight line, his eyes nearly black. “I have had it with the both of you! Now, tel me how it is that you are masquerading here as a Sister of the Second Sight before I tear you limb from limb.” Sister Hafeza’s hand fluttered to her massive, wel -

constructed breasts. “You are a forceful one, aren’t you?

Wel , basical y, I went to the initiation. And Sister Lizia, that’s the Highness right now, wel , she touched me and, of course, she knew right away who I was and where I belonged. Because I am a Seer. Only”—Hafeza gestured at her large frame—“somewhat unique among women.”

“And not even Moroccan,” Vayl said bitterly.

“Nope. I’d place your accent at, um, Atlanta?” I asked.

Hafeza nodded, her broad smile letting me know how pleased she was that I’d recognized her roots. “But you didn’t come here to discuss me,” she told Vayl, laying her red-nailed hands gently on the countertop.

He stood stubbornly silent, his fists clenched at his sides.

Hafeza nodded at me, though she kept her eyes on my currently questionable prize. “I see you’ve tasted recently of your companion here,” she told Vayl.

My hand stole to my neck, my fingers brushing the wounds that he’d reopened over the old scars. They wouldn’t be easy to hide from the rest of the crew. Should I get a scarf like Kyphas’s? And if I did, would I somehow manage to accidental y decapitate myself with it?

Vayl said, “Who I feed upon is none of your business.” Hafeza fluttered her lashes at him, like they both knew he was joshing. “What did you feel when you bit her?” she asked.

His lips pressed into one another. For a second I thought he wasn’t going to respond. And then he whispered, “Power.”

“That should prove to you she’s not who you think she is,” Hafeza told him. “But you
can
trust her. And for the same reason that you can trust me, even though I’m not who you thought I’d be.” She turned her hands over and let him see her empty palms.
No weapon here.

He final y nodded and dropped his hands onto hers.

She closed her eyes. Nothing happened for so long that I started to get bored. I picked up a book and read the title.

How to Make Love to a Man
by Alexandra Penney. Real y?

People needed directions? And if so, did that mean I was doing something wrong?

Vayl blew out a quick breath. I looked over to see Hafeza clutching at his fingers, her nails digging into his skin until drops of blood rose from the wounds. Her lips drew back and through her snarl I could see her molars grinding, as if she was trying to chew through ropes.

As quickly as it started it ended. She jerked her hands away and pressed them against her stomach. “You are in some deep shit, my friend.”

Vayl didn’t even glance at me. “I know.”

“No, you don’t. But I understand why, so I’l try to make this as clear as I can. You haven’t escaped Roldan yet, al right? The only way to make that happen is to accept the help of a warlock named Sterling.”

Vayl jerked, the blood from his hands splattering onto the counter tiles as he moved. “Warlocks are evil.”

“You should know better than to believe everything you hear,” said Hafeza.

Vayl dropped his eyes to his hands. “Al right, then, what about my sons? Did you… See anything about them?” Hafeza cocked her head sideways. “You’re something of a legend among my Sisters, Vasil. According to the Enkyklios files, this search of yours has been persistent, to say the least. And we’ve always given you the same answer. But you’ve changed. You’re more alive than dead now.” She glanced at me. “I think I know who to credit for that. And maybe that’s why the vision has changed.” Vayl’s fingers arched, the tips digging into the countertop so intensely they turned white.

“Um, Lord Brâncoveanu?” I said. “You’ve already broken one of those in the past few weeks. Here.” I handed him the book. “Maybe you could work on this instead.” He curled his hands around the binding without replying or even looking at me. It was like, if he let his eyes waver from Hafeza, maybe she’d disappear, and then he’d never find out what she had to say. And then he’d surely die. He said, “What did you See?”

“You wil meet your sons again. Only this time the three of you won’t die together.” Vayl let out a breath I didn’t even realize he was holding. Hafeza went on. “But I stil see death stalking al of you. Whatever surrounds your reunion could stil destroy your line forever.”

“Thank you for the warning.” Vayl hesitated. Then he got that determined look you see on people right before they jump into extra-cold water. “One last question, if you would. I need to find a woman named Jasmine.” He pul ed out the note I’d written him earlier and handed it to her. “Can you tel me where she is?”

Hafeza took the paper and, without even blinking, handed it to me. “This woman wil lead you to her.” She leaned forward, making sure Vayl got the drift. “So stop threatening to dump her. It’s bad for your karma.”

“If you insist.” Vayl pul ed out a wad of bil s.

Hafeza held up a hand. Topaz jewels glittered on every finger. She said, “I couldn’t take payment from you.

Especial y when I have one more piece of bad news.” Vayl’s hand dropped back to his side. “What is it?” She pointed to me. “Your companion here is in deeper trouble than you can understand right now.” Vayl smirked at me. “Is Madame Berggia in some sort of gambling debt?”

Hafeza pounded her hand on the counter and a tile cracked. I winced. Even once-removed we were hel on furniture. She said, “Save her and you save the woman you love. Remember that.”

Vayl and I stared at each other. Suddenly I understood how the Beast felt every time Beauty cringed at the dinner table. I wanted to pound my chest and yel , “I’m
inside
here, dammit!” Maybe if I burst into song. Hey, it worked in the movies.