So,” said David, after taking a few minutes to mull it all over, “here’s my take. A pound of flesh has to buy more than a single raid. I figure we’ve got at least one more assault to throw back. And logic dictates it’ll happen when we make the move to the truck.”
The truck was a semi, returning empty from its Tehran-to-Baghdad run. Somewhat miraculously we’d found a driver willing to get us into the city in return for six visas to New Jersey for himself and his family.
“I don’t know if I’ll be any help to you during the actual fighting,” Bergman said as he shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. For him, it was a brave moment, surrounded as he was by men much bigger and scarier than he. “But I did bring you a weapon I’ve developed that might make things a little easier on you.” It was one of the main reasons he’d been allowed to come along.
After our last mission he’d flown back to his lab. And despite the fact that Cassandra had insisted he’d be needed on this job, when he’d called me a week later, I’d said, “Stay home, Miles. Work. Rest. You need a break from us. From this craziness. It’s so not your thing.”
“I need to come with you, Jaz.”
“No.” We were both remembering the last time out, when Vayl had taken the bad guy’s blood and part of his power. Even though Bergman couldn’t explain it scientifically, Vayl had been able to call from within himself a bio- armor based partially on Bergman’s own invention. It had blown Bergman’s mind. That and Cassandra’s ability to mask my looks with a magical amulet had hammered at his core beliefs hard enough to rattle him teeth to shins.
We sat silent on the phone while Bergman mustered his arguments. I looked at my watch. I’d promised to meet Cole at the shooting range. I was about to be late.
“I’m tired of being afraid, Jasmine. If I keep running and hiding . . . if I don’t ever come out of my cocoon. Well, I’m never going to have a life.”
“I thought you liked your life. I mean, you said most people irritate you, so you don’t long for companionship. And you love inventing things —”
“Yeah, that part’s fine. It . . . it’s me.” He took a deep breath. I could almost see his shoulders rise as he braced himself for the confession. “I get up in the morning and look at myself in the mirror. And I can’t even meet my own eyes. I know this probably sounds stupid and old-fashioned to you. And, being a girl, maybe you won’t even get it. But for me, it’s not a matter right now of being a
better
man. I’ve just gotta . . . It’s time to
be
a man.”
O-kay. Hadn’t really expected that one. Still. “I don’t see how I can justify your presence. We don’t really need your expertise on this one.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll think of something.” And he had. Still, I kept thinking he’d chosen the wrong venue to prove to himself, what, that he wasn’t a coward? That he could somehow fit his own definition of masculinity? I mean, he was talking about really basic stuff. I wasn’t sure you could even get to where he wanted to go in less than a few years. But I had to love his brass. Once he decided he wanted something, he just kept trucking till he figured out the right formula.
Bergman scanned the cramped little farmhouse for volunteers. “If some of you could just help me bring the boxes in?”
From the way their faces lit up you’d have thought Santa just hit town. At a nod from Dave, two of them went for the guns while my shooting buddy Jet and his friend Ricardo guarded them.
I took Dave by the arm. “These reavers have some unique physical properties you should be aware of. Let me show you what we’re up against.” I took him outside and we knelt over one of the bodies, while yet more troops watched over us from a distance. “You know about the third eye,” I said. “That’s used for containing the soul of the victim until the reaver can deliver it to hell.” I grabbed the reaver’s jaw, opened it, and part of its pink, spiked tongue unrolled onto its chin.
“There’s something in its saliva that contains the soul, keeping it from ascending while at the same time absorbing it into that third eye.”
“You really are an expert on these things, aren’t you?” Dave asked.
I shrugged. “I know a lot more than I’d like to.”
He stood up. I looked over my shoulder. We were alone. “There’s something else I need to tell you,” I murmured.
“What’s that?”
“While I was in hell . . . ”
“Yeah?”
I cleared my throat. There was no easy way to say this. “I saw Mom.”
Dave immediately squatted back down beside me. “Tell me.”
“It was when Raoul and I were getting ready to leave. We turned around and there she stood, right in front of me. She said —”
“Jasmine?”
“Mom?” I took a step back because she was — I shit you not — licking her fingers and trying to get a smudge off my forehead.
“It won’t come out.” She wrinkled her brows with frustration.
“I’ll get it later.” I grabbed her wrist because she couldn’t seem to stop and I was sensing the loss of several layers of skin in my imminent future. “What are you doing here?” I turned to Raoul. “What’s she doing here?”
