The house took up half the block. We turned the corner, followed it to a private access road. It was blocked by a chained gate upon which hung a sign that might’ve spelled out why nobody but the owners were allowed to drive past that point — except I couldn’t read Farsi, so I was just guessing. For all I knew, it said,
Sick of living? Have we got a job for you! Inquire inside.
The gate itself was lower than the one in front. Also somewhat in disrepair. In fact, it looked to me like somebody had run into it with their vehicle. Hard. Leaving a buckled-in spot that made it resemble an enormous football player who’s just been kicked in the cojones. The resulting fold made a great foothold for us as we climbed to the top of the wall and then gently dropped to the other side.
The lack of outbuildings and absolute void in landscaping meant we could see the entire backyard and rear of the house from our vantage point. The only adornment the architect had given this area was a pool. But there were no lawn chairs. No potted plants. Nothing softened the stark effect of cement-encased water. It looked like a place where people are baptized. Or drowned.
If I’d been a run-of-the-mill assassin, the distance between the gate at which I stood and the back of the house would have seemed to stretch for miles. The Wizard had made it virtually impossible for anyone to sneak up on him while he was at home. But then, he’d never expected to be targeted by a vampire like Vayl.
We had our choice of entrances. As we faced the house, the garage sat to our left. It had four bays, all of them accessed by barnlike closures. A walk led from the driveway to the main door, a windowless white-painted archway with a black metal latch. To our far right, almost at the building’s edge, was another entry. A much less imposing white rectangle — definitely reserved for the servants.
Vayl motioned to my gut.
Where is it leading you?
his expression asked me.
I nodded to door number two.
We walked to the corner of the building. Despite our relative safety, it still felt eerie to cross someone’s line of sight and realize you might as well be invisible to them. Too bad we didn’t have more time. It would be such a blast to make them think they were cursed. I could just see the guards, gathered around the monitors.
“Holy crap, Khorsand!” one of them would shriek. “Look at camera five! The light fixtures have leaped off the garage and are floating around the pool like severed heads! What could it mean?”
“We are obviously being haunted by the souls of all the good men we murdered, NimA,” his partner would respond. “The only choice we have left to us is to fall upon our swords!”
I sighed.
Aah, if it were only that easy
.
We took our positions and waited for Cole’s signal.
“You smell amazing,” said Vayl, standing as close as he could get to me without touching. Apparently that was his definition of professional distance.
“Keep your mind on the job, bub.”
“Bub? Is that my new nickname?”
“Sure.”
“I hate it,” Vayl said decisively. “Give me another.”
I looked up at him, his excitement so palpable I could almost reach out and stroke it, like a luscious mink coat I’d feel guilty about petting while I totally grooved on the furry. This job necessarily brings out the worst in us, usually at the same moment. We were feeling the buzz now. That rush of God-power that precedes most kills. Lucky for us, my contrary nature drives me to poke holes in anything that seems overinflated.
“I had a parakeet named Murray once. How about that?” I asked.
His shoulders dropped. “Are you serious? When you look at me you think . . . parakeet?”
“Definitely,” I said, warming up to the idea now that I knew he hated it. “Because your eyes turn all kinds of colors like a parakeet’s feathers. And your fangs are kind of shaped like its beak. Murray crapped on newspapers. And you read the newspapers while you —” His look stopped me. “Or maybe, being a vampire, that’s not a necessary function. But since you eat, and you take the papers, I just thought —”
“Jasmine!”
“You’re right. This conversation should definitely wait until we’ve known each other a while longer.”
I didn’t catch his entire reply, but it sounded like he might’ve said, “A hundred years longer.”
“Okay,” came Cole’s voice. “I’ve had all I can stand without puking. Plus, the bad guys are coming. Repeat, Wizard henchies are on the loose.”
I took off the necklace I wore, worked the shark’s tooth into the lock, and waited while Bergman’s molten metal worked itself into the correct configuration. Within ten seconds we were inside, sans alarm, thanks to our baited TV van. I spared a moment to hope for their success. Then I brought all my concentration back to the task at hand.
We’d walked into a room that seemed too small and far too plain for the rest of the house. It was as if the architect had come to this corner and mused, “Well . . . they are going to need somewhere to throw their bloody clothes.”
In America we’d have called it a mud room. It was basically an eight-by-nine dump-your-shoes-and-shawl area, with a row of pegs on the wall opposite the door on which hung a couple of caps. Faded brown tile covered the floor. Two steps led up to another door.
I unzipped the pouch at my waist as Vayl gently inched it open. The dental mirror I carried reflected a large
