Jennifer Rardin - [Jaz Parks 1] - Once Bitten, Twice Shy

When we reached the landing at the top of the stairs I was surprised to find the three doors that opened to it, well, open. The one to our left revealed an apartment's living room and kitchen. A bathroom stood directly in front of us and a gypsy den sat on our right. That's where Cassandra led us, into a large room, the walls of which were covered in silky materials that ranged from blood red solids to dark gold prints. The new colors I saw within those familiar shades pleased my eye and my spirit. Somehow, despite the fringed pillows on the black couches and the multitude of candles on the large central table, the room maintained an exotic dignity.

Four dark wooden chairs with more curlicues than Shirley Temple sat around the table, which must've been crafted soon after Vayl's transformation. Cassandra sank into one of the chairs and motioned for us to join her.

'I sensed that I would be entertaining three visitors today,' she said, her voice as satiny as the wall coverings. 'Are you expecting another?'

'Actually, yes, we are meeting a friend here. He should be arriving any time now,' I said.

Cassandra nodded, the golden studs that lined her ears shining with reflected light. 'Rita will send him up when he arrives. Would you like to show me what you need translated?'

I pulled the paper Cole had traced the symbols on out of my front pocket. I took care not to touch her as I handed it to her. Vayl might need the services of a Seer, but I preferred to leave my future a blank. My new senses told me that if Cassandra touched me, she would tell me things I didn't want to hear. I was inclined to believe them.

I'd never doubted Cassandra's abilities. Charlatans don't stay in the biz long when vamps join their clientele. But even if I had come into this thinking Cassandra's upstairs gig was a fraud, her reaction to the symbols would've convinced me otherwise. She dropped the note onto the table in front of her as if she'd been burned. Her face tightened into a mask of fear and the soul behind her eyes cringed like a spectator at the Holocaust Museum.

'Where did you see these?' she asked, pointing a wavering finger at the symbols but making sure she didn't touch them.

'They had been carved into a dead body,' Cole told her, 'actually, two dead bodies on two separate occasions.'

Cassandra fingered a crucifix at her neck and muttered under her breath in, well, oddly enough it sounded like Latin.

'What are you saying?' Cole asked.

She looked at him grimly. 'A prayer for your protection.'

Cole said, 'Why do we need God's protection in this, Cassandra?'

'These symbols,' she said, 'are powerful runes designed to trap the soul, after death, to keep it from ascending.'

I recalled the scene in the restaurant, when Harry's beautiful blue soul went flying into the wild blue yonder. What if it had remained stuck there, straining to be free? The image made me flinch.

Cole shook his head. 'How is that possible?' he asked.

Cassandra made a visible effort to pull herself together. 'When people die violently, their souls do not immediately break free,' she explained. 'During that short delay the soul can be contained inside the body by branding these runes on the skin around the death wound.'

'So,' ugh, leant believe I'm saying this, 'then what do you have? Zombies?'

'That is a possibility.' Cassandra looked as revolted as I felt. 'Another explanation is that a rail, or hell-servant, trapped the soul until his master could arrive to eat it.'

I couldn't help it, my mind suddenly supplied a picture of a red-skinned, horned demon picking its teeth with a purple claw as a waiter cleared the dishes from its table.

'How was the soul?' the waiter asked.

'Not bad with butter and lemon,' the demon replied. 'In fact, I'd have to say it was finger lickin' good.'

I know, I know, not funny.

'Aside from the obvious biblical explanations,' I said, 'why would a demon eat souls?'

Cassandra shuddered. 'For the fun of it,' she suggested, 'or perhaps because it had been called to do so by a vengeance-minded human who was willing to pay the price.'

Great, that's what I need right now. It's not enough that I have to stop a mega-terrorist from spreading some godawful virus. Now I get to chase down a psychotic netherworlder with the munchies too.

'There is a third possibility,' Cassandra said.

'What is it?'

'Demons are not the only monsters who eat souls. My people tell a story of how, once, an evil emperor named Tequet Dirani made it his passion to rule, not only this world, but all the worlds beyond this one. He summoned a Kyron to help him.'

'What's a Kyron?' asked Cole.

Cassandra started to look ill as she described something that sounded more like a George Lucas creation than the real deal. 'It is a beast built for destruction. Its presence can herald a plague or a nuclear meltdown. And it can rip through the walls that divide universes like a wrecking ball.'

'Sure sounds like a demon to me,' Cole murmured.

'Not at all. It will destroy in any cause, good or evil. It is, like the djinn, at the mercy of its master's whim.'

'Only genies don't scarf down somebody's essence every morning for breakfast,' I pointed out. 'So how do you master something like that?' I wondered. 'How do you beat it?'