Asha snorted. “No. A master storyteller. Someone who can weave plot and character into a fascinating tale from which his listeners not only identify, but learn.”
“Is this the guy?” I showed him the picture and when his eyes lit in recognition, I could no longer put the two items I’d just discovered off to coincidence. FarjAd Daei was the man in the picture. The man scheduled to appear at the very cafe Vayl and I had scouted as our assassination scene yesterday evening. Knowing what I already knew about Dave’s link with the Wizard, I could only come to one conclusion. Iran’s most notorious terrorist had just set up the CIA to blot out its brightest hope for deliverance.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Y
ou don’t bring someone back from the brink in a couple of minutes. We talked to Zarsa for hours. At least we convinced her to shower early on, and we did open up the house so the fumes could exit the premises before the kids got home from school and started asking awkward questions. In the end, having an important task to do was probably the key to turning her face away from the grave.
“Such a vital thing you ask of me,” she said for the third time. “Are you sure I am capable?”
I looked her over and thought,
No, not even close. You’re so strung out it’ll take you weeks, maybe months to recover the kind of inner balance you need to function properly. But sitting around biting your fingernails and obsessing about your last stupid move is going to drive you even crazier. So
— “Absolutely. But if it’s not safe, or if Soheil doesn’t feel comfortable with our plan, make sure you leave your outdoor lights off. Got it?”
She nodded. Then she jumped up. “The house is a mess from last night! I must make it ready! Oh —” She looked at us, realizing suddenly that she was being a terrible hostess. Then she got this confused look. Did the host/guest parameters even apply in cases like these?
I stood, more than ready to rescue her. “We have to go anyway. I have quite a few preparations to make myself.”
She wanted to hug me goodbye, but I told her with a smile that I try to make it a practice not to touch Seers. She understood, and made a sign over my head that ended with her blowing me a kiss.
“What was that?” I asked.
Zarsa said, “The blessings of Aranhya, the Great Mother Spirit.”
“Cool. And for you . . . ” I did a succession of quick-march moves followed by a complicated salute. “My brother, sister, and I made it up. We always did it for our dad before he left the country, usually to fight in some conflict or another. And he always came back in one piece, so it’s gained a sort of mystical good-luck quality in our family over the years.” Which was why Dave and I did it for Evie right before she and Tim got married. I guess we might’ve chosen a more appropriate setting than the altar. But it did crack everybody up, and set the tone for a really fun wedding. Plus their marriage was still going strong. So what the hell.
Zarsa seemed to like it as well. We left her smiling, something I wouldn’t have bet a penny on at the beginning of our visit.
“The sun is beginning to set,” Asha noted as we paused outside Anvari’s so I could do up my last button. Zarsa had lent me clothes to allow for a hassle-free walk back to the house. But I wasn’t looking forward to it. Vayl would be up soon.
“Yeah. I’d better get going,” I said.
“Is there anything more I can do?” Asha asked.
“Just stick to the plan and make sure Zarsa doesn’t get hurt for taking part in it,” I replied. She ought to be okay as long as the Wizard thought we were still going to kill FarjAd Daei. But just in case . . .
He nodded. I watched him walk away with a sinking heart. If everything went according to that plan, General Danfer would be so pissed off that he’d probably find a way to pressure Pete into firing me by morning.
When I got back to the house, Dave and his crew had commandeered the living room, taking up all the furniture and most of the floor, prepping their weapons for the night’s “raid.” Looking at him as he sat with his back to the fireplace wall, his M4 in pieces on a sheet of plastic he’d found in the garage, I felt a horrible ache press against my chest. Because if this all went to shit, I’d never see him again. And we still didn’t have our past straight between us.
“Um, Dave? Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” He jumped to his feet and headed toward the kitchen, so I joined him there, sitting next to him on a stool that I wished had a back. It was suddenly taking all my energy just to sit up straight.
“I was just thinking, this assignment’s going to be over soon,” I said, choosing my words carefully so I wouldn’t betray myself. “And then we’ll go our separate ways again.”
He nodded, tracing a random pattern with his forefinger onto the countertop of the little island we shared. I looked down at my own hands as I said, “I was just . . . you know, people shoot at us all the time. Eventually somebody’s going to have good aim. And one of us won’t come back. Which was why, now, I wanted to explain about Jessie.”
Though I wasn’t looking at him, I felt him stiffen. He didn’t raise his hands to stop me. Didn’t even shake his head in vehement denial. But I felt a wave of don’t-go-there come off him and very nearly caved. I didn’t, only because I thought I’d never be able to muster the nerve to talk about it again, even if I got the chance.
“You know, she believed deeply in heaven. And she wanted to go there. But she didn’t think she’d be able to if she became a vampire. She also understood the lure earthly immortality would have for her, especially after she married you. She knew you’d never agree to smoke her if she turned. So she made me promise. And she did the same for me.”
“Promises were made to be broken,” he said, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion.
I looked at him then. “I wish you could forgive me. Jessie said you might not be able to.”
“She . . . she thought it that far through?”
