“Somebody needs to pay the mourners,” Bergman said to Vayl. “They say they won’t cry another tear until —”
“What mourners?” he growled.
I dropped my fist to his chest, thought better of patting it. Hell, his sweater no doubt cost more than my entire wardrobe. “It’s a long story. One you probably shouldn’t hear until you’ve had some nourishment and Cole’s a couple of miles away. Hang on.”
I freed my necklace and, taking Jack with me, slipped out the door, making sure the light didn’t hit Vayl’s position. Though he’d applied Bergman’s skin lotion and brought his fedora and sunglasses, the UV still hurt when it struck him. It just didn’t make him burst into flame anymore.
Pulling a wad of bills from an inner pocket of my jacket, I headed toward the oldest, and loudest, mourner. “How much?” I asked.
She named a number that made me bite my tongue. I nearly bartered, but realized as a widow wallowing in grief, I probably wouldn’t have the emotional stability to go there. Which made me wonder how many bereaved families got screwed the world over.
I gave her the dough and passed an even larger amount to the band. They, at least, made a pretty noise for their pay. I headed back to the hearse.
Like competitors in a game of Simon Says, my feet obeyed. That the order came from a voice inside my head shouldn’t have been disturbing. I talk to myself all the time, and my imaginary people come in all shapes and sizes. Except this one had risen recently, without welcome or permission, or a face to make it familiar.
I closed my eyes. Like all my mental voices, this one felt like an extension of me. But I didn’t have the ability to silence it like I could the others. It had begun quietly near the end of our last mission and grown like a tumor ever since. The only time it voluntarily muted was when Vayl showed.
I scratched at an itch that threaded from wrist to elbow. Hell, maybe I’d still be standing there today, sinking nails into skin, if not for Jack, who let out a series of his rare, throaty woofs. They snapped the hold that voice had woven over me. As I forced my feet to carry me back to the hearse, it suddenly felt like I was attending my own funeral. Because I knew it was time to face the facts. Either I really despised everybody in that car. Or my psyche had picked up a passenger.
CHAPTERTEN
Cassandra did everything but check the corners of the dank little bathroom for Candid Cameras.
“Bustiers? Are you joking?”
“You know, if you want to pull off this trust deal, you can’t be making fun of me the first time I try it out!”
“Okay, okay! I just thought, you know, since you were engaged once…” I shrugged. “Matt and I sort of skipped the costumes. I can’t remember if we never had the time or if we were just always in that big of a hurry. Maybe if we’d been together longer we’d have gotten around to it.” Stab of regret. Even now, with Vayl such a presence in my life that all I had to do was think of him to make the ragged edges smooth again, sometimes I missed Matt so sharply it was a struggle not to clutch my stomach and double over.
I forced my mind back to the subject, said, “So I’m getting the feeling Vayl likes the dressing up. And I don’t have much in the way of variety. What was he hinting at before?” While Cassandra explained, I wished I’d brought a notebook and a pen. Because she didn’t stop at that item. Oh, no. Somewhere along the line my girlfriend had amassed vast experience in the world of undergarmentry. And when she realized I particularly liked the types that would transform my up-top look from average to let’s-do-video! she really got on a roll. By the time she was done we were giggling like a couple of co-eds planning our first road trip.
A rap at the door shut us down.
“Yes?” said Cassandra.
“If you ladies are finished, we are ready to discuss our strategy regarding the demon,” said Vayl.
She shot off the toilet like someone had pulled the fire alarm. Throwing open the door, she said, “Is she back?”
His eyes, a troubled shade of blue, cut to mine. “No. Raoul feels that we have time to plan. Perhaps you and he should discuss…” He stepped forward, his cane clicking on the tile as he closed on me.
“All right, then,” she said. “Come on, Jasmine.”
I hesitated, my way blocked not just by Vayl’s physical presence, but by the intensity in his expression.
“She needs me,” he told Cassandra, though he kept his eyes on mine. “I feel it more deeply than this wound in my side. And yet you are the one huddled here with her.”
“Jaz needs all of us.” When she caught his expression, hers softened. “But you most of all. Remember that, because how you handle the next few minutes could make the difference in her soul’s salvation.”
“Oh geez, Cassandra, let’s not put any pressure on him or anything,” I said as I twisted Cirilai on my finger. His eyes shot to it, alarm widening them, making me drop my hands to reassure him that I wasn’t about to take it off. I had once, and the wall that had dropped between us had nearly destroyed us both.
Trust. Maybe I could work on that.
“What is Cassandra talking about?” he asked me.
I tried to pull in one of those bracing breaths that get you through tough situations, but my lungs wouldn’t cooperate. Too busy considering a full collapse. “I think you’ve sensed that something was wrong with me ever since we hit Canberra. I’m—”
I tried. The word wouldn’t move past my frozen tongue. Brude had put a block on communications, and while I struggled against him, Cassandra watched me with a sympathy that made me fight all the harder, because it was a reflection of how far I’d fallen.
She turned to Vayl. “Jaz has been possessed.”
