Bitten in Two

creature could rebuild after the deaths of my sons. Perhaps you are the one who could make me whole again, my Jasmine. If I could but touch your hand, taste your lips, I would know. I must see you tonight. Say yes.

Yours alone,

Vasil Brancoveanu

Whew, baby! I folded the letter and fanned myself.

“Dude knows how to put words together, doesn’t he?” asked Cole.

I spun around. “You read it?”

He shrugged, sharing one of those guy-smiles with Sterling that made me want to knock their heads together.

“Lord Brancoveanu”—we rol ed our eyes—“can’t read or write. So Berggia had to do a little secretarying last night.” I came back to sit with them. “It’s fine. I’l write him back later this morning.” When Cole’s smile widened I added hastily, “It’s just to keep him from running off into the city looking for some tramp that I’m going to have to end up beating the crap out of sooner or later.” I paused to think.

“Probably sooner.”

Sterling began to laugh.

“What?” I demanded.

“Only you could get yourself into this kind of jam. Tied to a cursed vampire who’s hot for your bod—only he can’t see it.”

“And that’s only half of the story,” Cole claimed as he cracked open the briefcase and pul ed out a plastic, G.I.

Joe–sized dol .

“What’s the other half?” asked Sterling.

“That’s on a need-to-know—and you don’t,” I snapped.

He held up his hands. I pul ed back, an instinct that doubled Sterling’s grin. The jerk. Luckily his attention wandered before he could piss me off so much that I repeated history and ended up ribbiting and snagging flies out of midair. He’d become fascinated with Cole’s new project, which involved lathering his dol ’s bald head with superglue and then sticking tufts of platinum embroidery thread on top. Afterward he pul ed some scissors from his case and began to trim the dol ’s do. Sterling couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Is there a purpose to this hobby or do you just enjoy playing beautician?” he asked.

Cole snipped and fluffed as he spoke. “This is just a prototype. I figure to make mil ions when I sel this to Mattel.” He thought a second. “Or maybe Hasbro.”

“And why should they buy it from you?”

“Because it’s the Cole Bemont action figure.” I slumped in my seat. But Teen Me sat forward. I don’t know, it could be kinda cute.

Shut up; you’re too old to play with dolls.

She nodded toward Bergman as he shuffled into the courtyard. He’s older than you and he has a bookcase full of them.

Those are called collectibles, I informed her.

Not if you talk to them when nobody else is in the room.

I ignored her—because what we were doing wasn’t a whole lot more mature—and waited for Bergman’s greeting. It didn’t happen. Which meant the record was stil intact. Someday he’d make it into the Guinness Book for number of mornings waking up grouchy. Because until our techxpert had downed at least two cups of coffee, he wasn’t even fit company for a room ful of assassins. His mood did promise to improve later on, however, because he’d worn jeans that were ripped in both knees and he’d put on his gray pul over right side out this morning.

“See that dude?” Cole whispered to Sterling. He waved toward Bergman, who was scratching his unruly mop as he yawned so big that for a second I thought I could see his lungs. “He did his hair just like mine on purpose because he thought it would get him more girls.”

“Has it?”

“No, but that’s only because he keeps forgetting to ask.

I’m tel ing you, this action figure is going to earn me my way into—” Cole stopped when he realized Sterling wasn’t listening anymore. He was staring at the woman who’d fol owed Bergman into the courtyard. Wel , actual y two had come out. Monique had brought a pitcher to refil the orange juice. And Kyphas had strol ed in.

What a contrast. The human, her hair pul ed back in an elegant French twist, looked cool and sweet in a light blue sundress covered with embroidered daisies. Bergman didn’t even growl at her when she patted his shoulder and asked if he’d hand her the half-empty carafe. How could he? That smile had been made for him.

The demon, on the other hand, had let her hair fly free, and it seemed like no layer was quite the same shade as the next, giving it the flow and glow of a lion’s mane. Her bright red capris hugged her curves like they’d only just met, and her black tank had the word “angel” written across the chest in shiny red rhinestones. She skipped the buffet completely and strode toward the gazebo, her eyes glued to Cole, who seemed determined to pretend she didn’t exist.

Sterling hadn’t hidden the fact that he was wel aware of her presence. His eyes hadn’t left her since she entered the courtyard. Both his hands rested easily in his lap, but his fingers were touching the bracelets, his equivalent of cocking a gun.

Shit! Knowing what it would cost me, I put my hand on the warlock’s arm. Hard not to gasp at the sudden drop in energy, like I’d just been dumped into the aftermath of a 10K run. His fingers hadn’t moved, so I kept my hand in place.