“Everything is excellent, thank you so much,” said Cole.
“You are students, yes?” asked Soheil.
“Yes,” Cole agreed, “here to perfect our Farsi. May I try my hand on a native speaker?”
Soheil held out his arms as if to welcome Cole to the Farsi family, and they launched into a five-minute conversation interspersed with bursts of hearty laughter. Finally Soheil said, “You will do very well, I expect. I am so happy you have chosen to study here. And in your free hours, you must visit my shop! It is just down the street.” He motioned south, no doubt toward the market about six blocks away.
We’d passed it on the way in, while the stores were still shut tight, their glass and cement facades reminding me so much of home that their brightly colored banners bearing odd, squiggly writing almost startled me. It had been close enough to dawn that the street sellers were already setting up in the alleyways, heaping homegrown goodies on large round trays that sat on the boxes they’d carted them to town in. We’d seen men wearing ball caps and jeans pushing ancient wheelbarrows full of turnips to the edge of the sidewalk while women cloaked in black crouched next to crates of apples, dates, and peaches, their backs resting against stone walls painted with glyphs of blessing from the goddess Enya.
Soheil went on. “Ours is the glass-fronted store with the large yellow signs all across the top. You cannot miss it. We sell only the best in clothing and shoes. And my wife does readings in the back. She is quite popular with the students.”
Here we go. Definitely time to act all interested and girly
. “What kind of readings?” I asked. I went for breathless and wide-eyed and figured I succeeded when Cole smirked at me behind our vistors’ backs.
“She will tell you of your future. All you need do is let her touch the palm of your hand. She can also help you recover what has been lost. Or, if you prefer, guide you toward true love.”
Huh
. I wondered if Zarsa belonged to Cassandra’s Sisters of the Second Sight guild. I was thinking . . . not. “That sounds wonderful!”
Soheil said something to Zarsa in Farsi. Obediently, she pulled a small brown square of heavy paper embossed with gold writing out of her pocket. “In case you get lost,” he explained with his charming grin. “Just show this to anyone on the street and they will direct you to our shop.”
“Thank you!” I said, taking the card from Zarsa’s outstretched hand. I avoided touching her. All I needed was for her to divine the real reason I’d come to Iran. Even in her present state, she’d probably still feel obliged to turn me in to the authorities. Eventually Albert might put up a tombstone for me, but my epitaph would probably read “And She Was Never Seen Again.”
They left shortly after that. After a communal sigh of relief, Natch announced it had to be time for chow.
“Hey, we’re pretending to be regular people, ya mook,” said Cam, “and regulars don’t say ‘chow.’ ”
“They do if they’re Italian,” Natch replied, for which he got a punch on the shoulder, which erupted into a three-man wrestling match once Jet joined in, with Amazon Grace officiating. She didn’t have many rules. As far as I could tell the only things she wouldn’t allow were eye gouging and spitting. In the end she declared herself the winner and made the men carry her to the kitchen.
Dave shook his head at his crew, but the look he gave me as he followed them out of the living room spoke volumes.
How can one of them be the enemy when it’s so obvious they love each other like family? Why can’t I be wrong about this whole, horrible situation?
But he wasn’t. Someone on his team had telegraphed their position to the Wizard six weeks ago, which was why his informant, the werejackal, was dead today. Dave definitely had a mole. But neither Cole nor I had picked up any signals during the game that made us suspect one man over another. All we’d done was find out how much we liked and respected all three.
Chapter Twelve
The party continued through supper, just rations we’d brought with us, and moved into the kitchen as we transported our mess back to where it had originated. The room surrounded us with a cozy, college days feel despite the white-tiled walls that tried to make it resemble an OR. The sink and appliances, all stainless steel, surrounded a tile-topped island that had been furnished with four stools. These were covered with bright yellow material that matched the cabinet doors and transformed the room from nauseating to cheerful.
Cole was hunting soap for the dishwasher, Cassandra was scraping plates, and Cam had just begun to tell the story of how Dave had led the raid that netted two of the Wizard’s top men, when my ring sent a shaft of heat up my arm.
He’s awake! Alive! Whatever! Okay, calm down. How old are you anyway? Geesh!
I looked down at my right hand, trying to distract myself from the rush of excitement that made it hard to deny how much I’d missed my boss for the past twelve hours.
I nearly whispered the ring’s name. Not because I knew it meant “Guardian.” But because I loved the way the word sounded coming off my tongue.
Cirilai.
Like a long, soft kiss. And I valued both the craftsmanship and power Vayl’s family had put into the gold and ruby masterpiece that protected his soul. And my life.
I used my thumb to turn the ring, watched the gems snatch the light and throw it out again, a thousand times clearer and more beautiful than it had been to begin with. I wished I could do that with my life. So much confused me lately. I rarely went through a day knowing anything for sure. Maybe I could at least discover something concrete about Cirilai. Even if Vayl couldn’t — wouldn’t — fully explain the relationship it symbolized.
Oh, I knew the basics. In the Vampere world we’d be considered a couple of some sort. His
sverhamin
to my
