Bitten to Death

in fast-forward. Psychedelic, man. And kinda nauseating. The only other vampire I knew whose eyes transformed with his emotions was Vayl. Did that mean the entire Trust had the ability? Or had he and Disa—naw, don’t be silly, Jaz. You’re just being suspicious because . . .

Well, because on our last mission Vayl had nearly gone off the deep end. Had almost trashed whatever future we might hope for by taking the blood of an Iranian Seer named Zarsa. We’d survived that seismic shift. That didn’t mean another wouldn’t destroy us.

“How dare you attack my knaer?” Disa demanded.

Why can’t we all speak English today? Seriously, I’m going to have to get Bergman started on some kind of universal translator. Now, what did Vayl say a knaer was? Some kind of jelly roll? No, dipshit, that’s what you ate for breakfast. This has something to do with Trust hierarchy. That’s right, power-wise, the knaer operate at about twenty-five watts. Only the humans put out less heat than them. I’d picked the right vamp to harass.

I gave Disa my most intimidating stare. “Alan Binns is an enemy of the people I’m sworn to protect,” I said. “And you’re harboring him. Makes me wonder what other filthy secrets you’re hiding.”

She swung her head around, probably searching for something to throw. Luckily they hadn’t left much in the way of portable Jaz trashers in the backyard. I watched her fists clench and hoped the next phase would involve stomping and screaming. My entertainment quota for the month had already fallen way below par.

Unfortunately, before Disa could wind it up a notch, her vamps and their human guardians came pouring through the villa’s back doors, exclaiming angrily when they saw their wounded bud and pinning me with hostile glares when they realized I’d done the deed. Again the balance had shifted. I glanced at Vayl. He gave me a nod and the slight lift of his lips that passed for a smile. Warped souls that we are, we kinda love it when our odds dip. Because that’s when the real fun begins.

Chapter Two

When Vayl gathers his powers it feels like I’m standing next to a glacial whirlpool. But it doesn’t hurt. As a Sensitive I’m mostly immune to vamp abilities. One of the perks of cheating death—twice. Plus, I was wearing my black leather jacket over matching jeans and boots with my fave new shirt—a bright yellow tee with an artsy black graphic that reminded me of battling minotaurs—so my shiver rose out of anticipation more than cold. Yup, definitely time for something big.

Since my health might depend on it, I cemented the scene in my mind. Mount Panachaikon loomed like a giant ogre over the groves of olive trees and gnarled lines of grapevines that dotted the surrounding acreage. Growing like a melanoma from its big toe was the seventeenth-century building housing Vayl’s former Trust. Only Cole, my wannabe beau and sometime shooting partner, could’ve described the villa correctly. He’d have taken one look at its massive block-on-block-on-block design with multiple outer staircases, random balconies, and tiny shuttered windows and said, “This is definitely a LEGO house. The haunted kind. Are they building another amusement park here?”

The mansion’s stone-walled front entrance discouraged visitors. Its path led, not to the lane where we’d parked our green metallic Range Rover, but northeast down a steep hill to a warehouse-sized building surrounded by weeds. So we’d come around back, through the double-doored gate to our right, which still stood wide open. Vayl had expected Eryx to open the way for us, but now the walk-in kinda made you wonder about their security.

Behind us a long mosaic-topped table surrounded by teak chairs ran the length of a jasmine-covered pergola that had been built off a three-car garage. Its quaint wooden door was also framed by vines. To our left someone had arranged another seating area, almost restaurant-like in its scattering of round metal tables and director chairs. Large planters filled with miniature orange trees softened the stone wall that formed the perimeter of that section of courtyard.

Between us and the villa, the Trust members formed a united front. At first glance anyway. Six vamps and five humans, all dressed in special-occasion duds, ranged themselves in a rough semicircle around Disa except for two human guards, who stood like giant totem poles behind her.

The vamps’ combined powers, as intense and unpredictable as a lightning storm, practically made the air crackle. Vayl had warned me about this, but words fell way short of the reality. Facing them felt like opening up the door of an air-conditioned SUV and stepping into the heat of the Sahara. My cheeks burned as I experienced the force of a unified Trust, something Vayl had said even he might have difficulty resisting. Especially if we had to stay any length of time. We were going to have to watch each other’s backs every second on this one.

And damned if a couple of vamps didn’t try to move behind us just as the thought crossed my mind. But a jolt of Vayl’s arctic strength stepped them back. That and his pronouncement, delivered in his clear baritone. “We come at the invitation of Hamon Eryx. He signed a blood oath guaranteeing us safe passage in return for a boon to the Trust. Do you honor your Deyrar?”

“I am the Deyrar!” Disa screeched.

“So the Vitem has decreed,” said a busty, tavern-wench type as she laid her hand on Disa’s shoulder.

Vayl had either sketched or found pictures of the major players still likely to be, as he put it, “walking in the Trust.” I recognized this one as Sibley. A member of Eryx’s Vitem, which my boss had compared to the president’s cabinet, she’d been his most conservative adviser. Now her role seemed to have morphed to ass kisser and morale booster. But she didn’t seem comfortable in it. As soon as she touched her leader, Sibley yanked her hand back and brushed it down the skirt of her long red dress. In that moment I saw a whole lot of white in her eyes.

Since she stood closest to Disa, I’d tagged Sibley as the most powerful member of her Vitem. Otherwise I’d have assumed that honor went to the dude standing next to her. His silver hair, pulled back in a tight ponytail, accentuated his smooth, fine-boned face. I guessed an age, added twenty years for the hair, and decided he’d been turned sometime after his fiftieth birthday. Given his maturity and office, he could’ve puffed and strutted like an elder statesman. But the way his eyes darted around the scene reminded me of a chipmunk ready to jump for cover the second he spied an owl. This guy’s gotta be Marcon.

It was easy to pick out the other Vitem members from the fact that they lined up on the other side of Disa, each with his own set of groupies. The vamp directly to her left kept glancing at her and nodding whether she had anything to say or not. I figured he had his head so far up her ass he should probably learn sign language. But then, Vayl had already given me the lowdown on his old nemesis, Genti. To give the toady credit, at least he was a simple soul. All he wanted from life was the quickest route to Easy Street.