Bitten to Death

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, clasping my hands together as my mind went back to the vision I’d had of our target. The one that had led us to this assignment and this moment. “Do you remember when I told you about the time Raoul took me to hell?” I asked my brother.

His sharp nod told me the less I said about that discussion the better. Because it had involved the fact that I’d met our mother there. “I had a vision of Samos during that trip,” I said. “He was trying to make a pact with a demon called the Magistrate. But in order for it to work, he had to give up something incredibly precious to him. His dog. In the end, he refused to do it.”

“But how do you know the dog really means that much to him?”

“The Magistrate knew. And look, I had to give something up in order to gain that vision. Something that meant the world to me.” I stopped, mainly so I wouldn’t start bawling. Dave wouldn’t understand how much I missed my playing cards. How the whisper of the bridge, the slap of the shuffle, had worked on me like coke on a junkie. “I promise you, Samos loves that dog like our sister adores her baby girl. We get that malamute, we can play him like a drum.”

“And Disa’s fine with this plan?” he asked.

Vayl paused, as if trying to think of a tactful way to put his next few words. He shook his head. “She believes you and Jasmine will fail, in which case you will die, which is her ideal. With you two dead and me bound, she wins.”

Chapter Fourteen

I thought about Disa getting her way like some spoiled brat who’s managed to cruise through life on Mommy’s looks and Daddy’s Visa. And the more I considered, the hotter I got. She thinks she’s got us all right where she wants us, huh? It’s too bad somebody didn’t rip her face off when—my thoughts halted as somewhere in the house an alarm went off.

STOP STARTING FIRES! The voice of my Spirit Guide, booming at me across the planes of our existences like a mountain with a megaphone, sounded disgusted. Like I was some kind of arsonist or something!

It’s not me, Raoul!

YES, IT IS.

Even if I thought I was capable, which I don’t, why would I be doing that?

YOU TELL ME.

I thought about how I’d been feeling before the alarms went off. And about my overall mood lately. Well, I suppose I have been a little . . . wound up . . . recently. I’ve got a stressful job, don’t I? And now that I don’t have cards as an outlet. Or sex. Or drinking, drugs, gambling . . . You know what? How about you just leave me the hell alone? If I could set stuff on fire with my mind, I should be allowed to burn down the whole damn villa if I feel like it!

Amusement in his tone now. YOU DON’T MEAN THAT.

Why was it that everybody knew me better than I knew myself? Un-freaking-fair.

Okay, maybe not. Inner sigh. So what are you saying? I’ve developed some sort of mental Aim ’n’ Flame? And it just goes off arbitrarily?

NOTHING RANDOM ABOUT YOUR TINDER.

I recalled that both times the fires had started I’d been mad as hell. But apparently instead of steam coming out my ears, I’d caused flames to pop up in my least favorite stomping grounds.

What am I supposed to do? I asked Raoul in utter frustration.

CONTROL YOURSELF.

That was easy for him to say. If he didn’t have to fight creeping evil every time he turned around, he’d probably be a saint by now. However, since he could probably fry my brain just by clearing his throat, I decided to cooperate. Self-control would be a cinch if Disa was dead, so I tried to calm myself with an imaginary montage starring both of us. Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could do a little Cartoon Network scene where I blew her up with TNT, dropped her off a mountain, ran her over with a steamroller, and catapulted her into the side of Rockefeller Center, after which she would get up, stumble around groggily for a few seconds, shake it off, and then impale herself on my lance-sized stake? Ahh, if life was only like television. I’d certainly feel better. In fact, just fantasizing about it elevated my mood.

THAT’S BETTER, said Raoul. REMEMBER YOUR POKER FIXATION AS WELL.

His voice had such finality to it that I felt a surge of panic. No, wait, don’t leave yet! I’ll practice shifting the chips, I promise. But I have to know what to do about the firebug trait I’ve suddenly developed. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m in a major predicament with this Disa mess. Couldn’t you—

ON THE FIRST ISSUE—PRACTICE. I’M OUT ON THE SECOND.

Why?

NOT MY FIELD OF EXPERTISE. I wished we had video to go along with the words in my head. Because I was sure it would’ve confirmed the deceit I heard in his voice. It wasn’t that he couldn’t help. He simply wouldn’t. Which was when I realized my Spirit Guide didn’t approve of my sverhamin. I wasn’t overly surprised. On paper they seemed to fall on opposite philosophic poles. But we were all working toward the same goal here. Which made me feel like Raoul was being somewhat narrow-minded. I wondered if it was a personal deal, or if he was acting on orders from Above.

Either way, we were SOL. Judging by the stubborn set of Vayl’s jaw, he wouldn’t have accepted outside help on this anyway. He spoke to Dave since I obviously had nothing useful to say. “I wonder if perhaps Disa is still smarting from the humiliation I brought down on her when she was still human. She hates to lose. Perhaps she has found a way to exact her revenge upon me after all these years.”

“I could drop a boulder on her head,” I murmured.