“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
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
