Bitten to Death

side of the sarcophagus, moving deliberately, our eyes sweeping the room every few seconds for surprises.

“What’s on its head?” I whispered. I wanted to reach across Blas’s stone bed, grab Vayl’s hand, and hang on until he assured me we were having a mutual nightmare.

“Hat?” he guessed.

“That’s a funky-shaped—” Then I stopped talking. Because the hat unrolled its legs and perched them on the body’s shoulders. It made a horrible sucking sound.

No hat, my mind shrilled. No hat, because no head for it to sit on. It’s a—what the fuck is that? The creature scuttled down the neck and perched on the chest like an enormous throbbing tie tack.

“Shit!” I jumped up onto the sarcophagus in a single bound. Superman would’ve been proud. Of course he probably wouldn’t have missed when he squeezed off a bolt, but then he always was too perfect for my taste.

“Forget the crossbow!” Vayl yelled as he filled the room with frost. “That is a grall. Bullets, Jasmine, and now!”

I reversed my Walther’s load as I reviewed what I knew about the grall, all of it book-learned because this was the first one I’d met up close and personal. Adults the size of a volleyball, and where you saw one, since they were hermaphroditic, you usually had at least a dozen young infesting the place too. They moved like lightning on six hair-covered legs the color of cranberry sauce. A light shell covered most of their crab- shaped bodies, but in the middle, multiple portions stuck through the carapace like thick, fleshy antennae. Though these were vulnerable areas, they also allowed the grall to attach themselves through a set of dagger-sharp teeth to any living creature. And here was the funky part. They didn’t just suck out blood. They took secrets. And if you gave the grall the right kind of offering later on, you could get those secrets for yourself.

I took aim. The creature had frozen to its victim’s chest, like an opossum that thought playing dead might buy it an escape. Holding my breath, I fired. At the last second the grall dodged, its squeal of pain letting me know I’d hit it, but probably not fatally. Most of the bullet seemed to have lodged in the corpse.

Vayl kicked something that bounced off the wall with a high-pitched squeal. “There are young!”

“Get up here!” I yelled. “I’m less likely to hit you that way.”

He leaped up beside me. “What I would give for my cane right now!”

“Grab my bolo!” His hand slid into my right pocket. My body responded with a wow-baby! thrill that I did my best to ignore as I blasted a couple of the offspring into meat chunks. Vayl’s chilling of the room had slowed them more than it had the parent, which had taken refuge on the wall behind the body.

As Vayl released the knife from my pocket sheath, I scanned the floor and walls for movement. Nothing. I turned to Vayl, preparing to ask if he’d ever heard of such a small litter, when something fell past my face, slashing my cheek as it went. As I looked up I felt a weight hit me in the middle of the back. “Vayl, they’re on the ceiling!”

He stabbed upward, impaling one on his knife.

“Check my back! My back!” I yelled, turning so he could see.

“Hold still!” I heard the air scream past the blade as he slashed at the creature trying to chew its way through the leather of my jacket. As soon as I heard the piece plop to the stone at my feet I gave Grief free rein. Only when I paused to reload did I hear Vayl grunt in pain.

I looked over. He was surrounded by grall corpses. But one had dropped on him while he was busy with the others and dug in just behind his right ear. Before I could react, he ripped it off his head, throwing it against the wall so hard it splatted like a bug on a windshield. Blood ran down the back of his neck, making the four remaining young shriek with hunger.

These were smarter than their brothers/sisters. They’d realized the ceiling offered no protection and had taken cover behind the two glass lamps that provided light for the room. I’d thought we’d have to get up close and personal to pick them off. But Vayl’s scent had drawn them out.

I took a second to glance at the body. Nope. The parent knew better than to leave its hidey-hole. Okay, fine. We’ll take out your disgusting little juniors first.

They came at us in a rush. I took out one before the rest were on us. Vayl stabbed another as it hit the stone between his feet. The remaining two leaped at his throat, squealing as they closed on their goal. Since Vayl was too close to risk a shot, I threw a jump kick that nailed one of the beasts square in the back, sending it flying into the ceiling. When it flopped to the ground I shot it twice. I’d have gotten it clean on the first try, but part of my focus switched to Vayl, who caught the last one on the end of the knife, impaling it like a spitted pig.

We gave each other a satisfied nod and turned to the hanging corpse. “Whose remains do you think?” I asked.

Vayl touched his neck gingerly, grimaced at the sticky on his hands, and replied, “I cannot be certain, of course. But the ring on his pinky is quite unique. I would guess it is Hamon’s.”

“What? No! Hamon lost his head. Which means the rest of him would’ve gone bye-bye. That’s how it works with you guys.”

“That is how it usually works,” Vayl contradicted. “One exception would be if you had a grall attached to your body at the time you were decapitated. In which case it would not dissipate.”

“The grall has that kind of power?”

“Yes. Because some secrets could still be drawn from your blood, your organs, even your bones.”

I eyed the corpse, its ruffled cravat and rust-colored suit coat stained with the blood of the head that had once completed it. “Bullshit.”

“What do you call forensic pathology?” asked Vayl.

“That’s different!”