Bitten to Death

mother told me I had the eyes of an angel.” He dropped his forehead to his knees. “Oh, how I miss my eyes!”

“They’ve been doing face transplants,” I blurted, feeling idiotic for saying so because, really, what did I know about this guy? He’d been in the Trust when Vayl left. So, despite his mother’s opinion, he was no angel. Still, I felt sorry for him. So I continued. “I’ve seen the headlines. Not that there’s a huge demand for them, but . . . well . . . I’m just saying . . .” I trailed off because Blas was making funny sounds, which I feared might have something to do with sobbing. And I so didn’t want to be stuck in a closet with a crying vampire.

“Do you think it possible?” he asked, snuffling a little between words.

“I have no clue. But, you know, it’s something to think about.”

“Yes, perhaps . . . Excuse me, is your rear end buzzing again?”

I dug out my phone. “How did you know? It’s not like I was leaning up against you this time.”

Blas shrugged. “I felt the vibration through the wall.”

“Yeah,” I said. “There’s this guy who thinks he wants to marry me. He doesn’t understand how miserable we’d be together, so he keeps texting me.”

“In other words, you have not told him no?”

“I haven’t figured out how. I don’t want to give him that tired old line about how I want to be his buddy and someone else’s lover. My impression is that’s the best way never to see a guy again. But then, I don’t want to lead him on, either. So I’ve been walking a line so thin I think my feet are starting to cramp from the pressure.”

I checked the last two messages. When I started chuckling, Blas asked, “What does he say?”

I considered telling him it was none of his business. But he was such a pathetic little bundle there in the corner. Plus, it was nice to finally have someone I could talk to. A guy who literally couldn’t nail me with a look of disdain because I’d allowed my life to become such a tangled mess. “The first one says: ‘If I have to sit still for one more hour, my ass is going to look like a manhole cover. Hey, wait a minute!’”

Blas laughed softly. “And the second?” he asked, the eager note in his voice making me wonder how long it had been since he’d spoken to anyone. Did he spend all his waking hours in this coffin of a room?

“He says: ‘Great, now I have to pee. Maybe I shouldn’t have drunk that eighth cup of coffee. Plus, I’ve got the caffeine jitters. Do you think anyone would notice if I wrote my name in the snow and then break-danced around it?’”

Blas let out a delighted sigh. “Your friend sounds amusing.”

“Yeah.”

“You sound wistful.”

“He’s been a better pal to me than I’ve been to him. I miss him. Especially now when—” when everything is falling apart.

I’ll admit it. For about three seconds I considered staking out the corner of the closet Blas hadn’t laid claim to. I wouldn’t take up much room curled into the fetal position. The rocking and sobbing might irritate him some, but it would pass in a few hours. After which we’d probably get along fine. I’d pace the length of the closet, bouncing off the walls every third step like a Roomba doing the vacuum tango. He’d enjoy all the stories I’d tell of my exploits. Yeah, that’s what we’d call them. Exploits. But then, eventually, he’d get hungry and sink his fangs into me. At which point I’d have to smoke him. You know what? Never mind.

“Why do you miss him particularly now?” Blas asked.

“Because, despite his feelings, he’d help me find the third alternative I’m looking for,” I answered. “Then he’d say or do something that I’d find absolutely hilarious.” I sighed. “But at the same time, I’d be wishing he was far, far away from me.” Blas tipped his head sideways, as if he didn’t quite understand where I was going. Which he wasn’t supposed to. “Never mind,” I said. “I’ve gotta get back.” I couldn’t tell him that Cirilai had begun sending me signals. Ones that made me think I should save the evidence search for a time when I actually had a clue how to get past the death-spell locking Hamon’s door. Right now I needed to hustle my ass back to Vayl’s side before the ring burned off my finger. Dammit. “I’ll be here for the negotiations with Samos and then I’m leaving. If you’re interested in that plastic surgery option, let me know. I’ll make sure you’re on the plane with me when I go. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Chapter Thirteen

Vayl and Dave sat beside the fountain, staring at the rust-colored water as it flowed down the statue’s perfect breasts. I guess it said something about their states of mind that their eyes were on the H₂O rather than the knockers, but my own was so fouled I hardly noticed.

The silence in the room ran so deep that when I closed the door it sounded like I’d just pulled up a drawbridge. I leaned my back against it, not wanting to enter any farther than necessary, making sure I had a clear means of escape if I needed one in the near future.

Finally Vayl looked up at me and said, “Have you gone stark raving mad? If I had not done some extremely fast talking, your ridiculous stunt would have ruined our entire mission! What were you thinking? Have you no self- control?”

I glanced at Dave, who had the sense to respond to my dawning anger with an expression of absolute neutrality. I sent my gaze back to Vayl, feeling the blood begin to pound in my head as I found myself spotlighted by his accusing gaze. Part of me noted that his eyes had remained brown throughout. When he’s mad they usually go black. Sometimes they even get little red sparks, like laser sights that all point straight to that spot between my eyes.

I said, “I had a talk with Niall. He told me you ripped Disa. And that she bound you. For fifty years.”

He at least had the grace to wince when I said the word “ripped.” “I had every intention of telling you. But I supposed she was dead, and that gave me the chance to reveal it to you at a time of my choosing. Once we got here, everything moved so quickly—”