Bitten in Two

she have been chewing on if she’d actual y known what was at stake?

I closed my eyes. What sucked more than anything had so far was that I hadn’t even approached the pride line yet.

What did that say about the lengths I’d go to for Vayl? In a word—terrifying.

I said, “Done.” Patter of applause as Monique clapped her hands. I glared at her. “I wonder if you could give us a moment.”

Sterling shook his head. “You know this kind of deal needs a neutral witness. Now seal it,” Sterling demanded.

“Oh, for—okay.” I crossed my hands, one over the other, and pressed them against my chest. “I swear on my heart’s blood that I wil give you a guitar and twenty-four hours of uninterrupted time with you and your Wii playing any damn game you want—”

“I’m going to kick your ass in tennis—”

I gave him my like-hel -you-wil stare as I finished. “—in return for your help in solving my partner’s current problem.” He’d made the same gesture. Now he said, “I swear on my heart’s blood I wil aid you to the end of my abilities until”—he hesitated, glancing at Monique, so I put in

—“Vasil Brancoveanu”—since Vayl no longer answered to his modern name and Sterling didn’t know him by any other.

The

warlock

nodded

grateful y.

“Until

Vasil

Brancoveanu is restored or until you release me of my duties.” We clasped hands, my right in his left, his right engulfing my left. I felt, not a zap exactly. More of a slow-dizzy, the kind that fal s over you when you’ve looked in a fun house mirror way too long. It came from his bracelets, making our agreement official. And from his pull.

Warlocks borrowed energy from other people to fuel their powers so they didn’t have to sleep sixteen hours a day. Sterling was so good that his was mostly reflex, as much a part of his character as his eye color. I also knew he could crank it up when he wanted to, which was why I enjoyed touching him about as much as I liked slapping skin with psychics. I took my hands back as soon as I could.

His eyes dropped to Cirilai. “Your ring…”

“Is none of your business.”

He let it drop. But I could see the regret in his eyes. His look said, If only I’d known it wasn’t just a hunk of metal when I was wheeling and dealing.

I slipped my hands into my pockets. What have I done?

I watched Sterling touch Monique between the eyes, saw the jolt of blue move from his ring down his finger into our hostess’s skul , and knew the memory of our contract would now be locked away where she could only access it if either of us welshed. Her foggy expression, fol owed by a trip to the buffet to fix the same flowers she’d been working on when I’d entered the courtyard, convinced me it had worked. And brought on the guilt.

We shouldn’t be here. Monique’s place should be full of vacationing families. Moms and dads planning shopping excursions or trips to see the Koutoubia Mosque and the Bahia Palace. We belong in an empty plain, surrounded by the ruins of long-dead buildings where we can’t destroy anything that isn’t already rubble.

I felt something trickle down my lip.

Sterling frowned. “Your nose is bleeding.”

“Oh.” I looked around, but Monique was already beside me holding a tissue, her kind brown eyes big with concern.

“Thanks.” I took it and shoved it against my nostrils.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” I glanced around the courtyard so I wouldn’t have to deal with her sympathy or Sterling’s curiosity. I said, “You know what? I think Sterling and I wil eat in the gazebo this morning. We have some business to discuss.”

“Of course. I’l find Shada and tel her you’re ready for her to clean your room.”

I nodded, reminding myself to leave the quiet little maid a big tip before we left for keeping her mouth shut about al my hand-rinsed bedclothes. “Thanks.”

“I’l be working on accounts most of the morning, so if you need me please feel free to knock on my office door.” Monique nodded to Sterling. “Nice to have met you,” she said, then she left through the kitchen doors.

Sterling waved her away, the twist of his wrist and curve of his last three fingers making me wonder if he’d just hexed our hostess until he said, “A smal blessing to fol ow our witness for the rest of the day. It’s the least I can do, don’t you think?” While he tore a generous piece of bread off the loaf and scooped a spoonful of butter onto his plate, I mopped myself up. Again. Fearing that chewing motions would just reconvene the bleeder’s convention, I settled for a glass of juice and fol owed him into the gazebo. I spent as much time as I could arranging myself on the couch, the cushions at my back, my cup just so on the table. Sterling watched me for what seemed like hours. Final y he’d had enough.