Bitten to Death

What’s the difference? said Dave’s gesture. “It stood about twelve inches high. Gold. Reminded me of the Ryder Cup trophy with the golfer hacked off the top.”

“That’s a pretty showy item to have missed when you first came onto the balcony,” I said. “Neither of you noticed it at all?” The men shook their heads. “And, Vayl? You just sat there and let her pour blood all over your digits? No avoidance? No protest?”

“At the time I felt she had the right.” He shook his head. “It is as we have realized. The power of this place. It worms its way into your pores, and before you realize it, you are behaving as if everything the Deyrar says and does is correct and natural.” He clenched his fists. “So she bound me. That still does not explain what happened to my cane. Or why she needs it.”

“Did you have it when she poured the blood over your hand?” I asked.

“Yes. I remember thinking that I needed to clean it off of the wood before it stained. So I went into her bathroom and washed my hand. But before I got to the cane, I decided to leave it. In her bathroom.”

“Why?” I asked.

He put his fingers to his temples. “I had the oddest feeling I should give her a gift since we had become bound. I tried to resist the urge. Part of me understood the best course of action would be to find you and get out, despite the fact that it would end our mission. But my hand began to burn with such heat I had to hold it under the cold- water tap. After I had stood there for another minute, I decided to leave the cane after all. So I did. And I promptly forgot it.”

Dave sat forward. “Let’s go get it. I haven’t kicked ass in so long, the steel toes of my boots are getting rusty.” When Vayl hesitated he pressed. “You know Disa can’t be up to any good with it.”

“I agree,” I said. “You and I both understand what trouble people can get into when they lose something they value as much as you do that cane. She might try to control you through it.”

“Or she may use it as a pwen,” Vayl countered.

Crap, he might have hit the mark there.

“What’s a pwen?” asked Dave.

“An object used in self-defense,” I explained. “Considering what Disa’s done to Vayl, and what she might be planning, she could be thinking he’d be tempted to move against her. Especially since he’s already shown an ability to resist the Trust in the past. In that case, she’d have stolen the cane to use as a shield against Vayl’s powers if he becomes violent. Since he’s had it so long, it’s absorbed a lot of his energies, so it’s the ideal item for the job.”

“But she’s already manipulated him,” Dave argued. “He couldn’t even remember leaving it in her possession. Now that she has it, I’m betting she’s using it to tighten the screws.” The stare he sent Vayl was more bitter than day-old coffee. “It’s just like the ohm. Only it’s not stuck inside his neck.”

I put my hand on my brother’s knee. “The Wizard’s dead, Dave. You won.”

He shrugged. Gave me his whatever look.

I studied him as he turned back to argue with Vayl. Spoiling for a fight, Dave gave it his best shot while my boss debated for the wait-and-see side. As they talked, I tried to open another eye. It wasn’t easy. I’d been alone for eight months before partnering with Vayl. You tend to develop cataracts working that way. Makes the killing easier. Dams the nightmares. But eventually you go blind. Vayl had taught me new ways of working, unique avenues of thinking. It didn’t mean I’d gotten tons better at stepping out of my own head. But for Dave’s sake, I tried.

What would it be like to be at another person’s mercy? Trapped by a power more adept and much more willing to do evil than you? Especially when you were accustomed to leading a force of elite troops trained to operate independently and tasked with only the most nut-cracking assignments the military could dredge up?

That’s a vulnerable situation to be in. With your soul straining to fly while some badass necromancer binds it with magic and bone. And then my spine straightened, the answer I needed flying up from the seat of my pants to encase it in iron. That was Dave’s real problem. He’d been like a hostage. A prisoner of war. All the crap he’d heaped on top of that original victimization he could probably deal with if only he got his head past the conviction that he should have fought in a situation when he couldn’t possibly have done anything different.

I suddenly felt the gap in my training. I knew how to be a prisoner. Like my twin, I could survive the incarceration no matter what it entailed. But the aftermath? I had no idea how to slog through that, much less help somebody else deal. He needed professional assistance. But I might as well suggest he dress in drag and sing “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

Then I realized I had a pro right at my fingertips. But before I could make the call, I needed to discuss one more item. And I thought I might have calmed down enough to do that without setting off any more alarms.

I waited for a pause in the discussion. “I ran into Blas before.”

Vayl sat even straighter. “You did? But Disa said he was—” I waited while Vayl recalled their conversation about the lost vampires, during which Disa had not told him what happened to a single one. “Where did you find him? Why did he stay inside when the rest came out to confront us?”

“I imagine that would have something to do with the fact that he couldn’t have found his way without a guide. And he seems to be avoiding Disa like the plague since she’s the reason he’s”—I almost said blind, but that didn’t go far enough—“maimed,” I finished.

“What has she done?” he demanded, his features so taut you’d have thought I’d threatened to stake him in his sleep.

I didn’t take any pleasure in telling him. I sensed he’d begun to feel personally responsible for Disa’s horrors, like the father of a girl who opens fire on all her least-favorite classmates. Well, maybe he should. I’d terminated plenty of targets whose parents had been even more monstrous than them. Then again, as my Granny May used to say, some people are just born with the devil in them.

As I described my conversation with Blas, part of me wondered what it had been like for Vayl, living here. From bits of information he’d let slip during our time together, I figured he’d spent a little over a century in the Trust. A hundred years hunting, gambling, partying, fighting, eating, and yeah, most likely sleeping with these people. I thought of Sibley and the woman he’d called Aine and quickly doused a spark of jealousy that might easily have set