Bergman lurched off the couch, went to Vayl and grabbed his shoulder, which he quickly released when Vayl shot him his don't-touch-me look. But he didn't back down completely. 'If she goes, I go,' he said, jabbing a finger towards Cassandra.
'Fine.'
Bergman blinked a couple of times, surprised at his success.
'You're not leaving me here while Jaz is sitting on that bomb,' said Cole. We all looked at him. Despite the fact that he resembled a plane crash survivor, no one ventured an argument as to why he should stay. Finally Vayl said, 'All right, if that is what you want.'
'It is.'
Another moment of silence passed out of respect for Cole's determination and, on my part at least, an attempt to balance myself against a staggering wave of concern. How were we supposed to keep them all safe? I wasn't sure it was possible, but I could tell none of them would entertain my arguments. As I fought a feeling of impending doom, Bergman launched himself into a packing frenzy that Cassandra quickly copied. For the next five minutes my little gang looked like they were preparing a full-scale evacuation. All except for Cole, who glared at the drapes so hard I was kind of surprised they didn't catch fire. And I was pretty sure that wasn't Visine I saw glittering in his eyes.
Vayl drove toward Club Undead like a drag racer. Every time he had to stop for a light or a sign, his next move was a flat-pedal takeoff. The first couple of o-to-6os left me so unprepared, I found myself hovering outside the van watching its taillights rush off into the night. When I resumed my place between him and Cassandra for the third time, he sent me an apologetic look. 'Sorry about that.'
'That's all right,' said Cassandra, overriding my objections without realizing I wanted to voice them. 'So can I tell you what I have learned about the key?' We both nodded. 'It acts as a controller. Remember I told you the Tor-al-Degan can perform good or evil acts? Whoever owns the key can tell it what to do.'
'So if they summon the beast before we get there, all we have to do is tell it to go back to where it came from,' said Vayl.
'I'm not so sure. In fact, I think the Tor-al-Degan is already here. You said it ate the soul of Amanda's brother. And Cole said the torso they found bore the same markings.'
'True. But Jaz said
'Yes. According to my research, the Tor-al-Degan cannot be completely released from its bonds until it receives a willing sacrifice. It can, however, exist in more than one realm at once. Which is why I think it is already here. Most of it, anyway.'
'Why would they only bring it partway into the world?' asked Bergman.
'I suppose they didn't know any better. They seem to be working from a partial text, or perhaps a copy of a copy of a translation that has left out vital information.'
Vayl clutched the steering wheel hard and shifted anxiously in his seat. 'We have to get there.
'Geezer,' I corrected him.
He glared at me. 'Never leave your body again!' He jerked us back into our lane just in time to keep us from getting flattened by a street sweet Hummer. He tried twice more, nearly colliding with a red Mustang and a dark blue Camry before he finally succeeded in leaving the old fart to stew in his prunes.
'Would you quit driving like a maniac if I went back to my body?' I asked. I'd never seen him so unnerved.
'Yes!' Vayl practically shouted. He took a breath, visibly pulled himself together. 'We need to know if you are still unharmed, whether they have moved you, what they are planning. Report back as soon as you discover anything at all.'
'Gladly,' I agreed. 'Your driving is making me nauseous and I don't even have a stomach!' I floated through the roof of the van and looked around. All my golden cords still stretched in their various directions. Was it me, or did they seem slightly dimmer than before? I didn't spend much time pondering, I was too busy looking for the light that connected the separate parts of me. I played the cords one by one, as if they were the strings of a gigantic harp, and delighted to hear one of them sing my own tune back to me. It wasn't as pure as Evie's or as powerful as Vayl's, but I liked it all the same. Especially when it led me straight back to my body.
There I sat, breathing, blinking, looking as blank as the porcelain dolls Evie collected. I shook my ethereal head.
No longer interested in standing at my own side, I moved out, through the door into the control booth, now manned by a bald black man who looked fit enough to break world sprint records. He played with the sound board, tweaking the music that pounded through the teeming rooms beyond.
Floating out the window and over the humans and vamps who danced shoulder to shoulder, I imagined the devastation that would occur if I jumped back into my body and rose from the chair. Hundreds would die.
'Help me out here, would you?' I asked, hoping the owner of the thunderous voice hadn't taken a nap. 'I've got to find the three stooges.' Intuition told me I could sniff out evil now that I'd seen and accepted my transformation, but that ability didn't help much here, with my nose in the attic.
The answer rolled across me like an avalanche, reverberating through me, making me glad I didn't currently possess teeth that might well have shattered against each other in the aftermath. 'UNDERGROUND!' I fought a perverse urge to do just the opposite, float back into the atmosphere, chase down the source of that overwhelming voice and discuss with it the benefits of the whisper. But something told me once I went hunting for my guide, I might never be able to return.
So I dropped from my lofty perch near the catwalk, past the dancers' mask-like faces and through the floor beneath their feet. The wine cellar I entered looked like it belonged under a medieval castle. Dusty bottles lined row after row of custom-made shelves that filled more than half the space. A gorgeous cherry table with four matching
