Jaz Parks 5 - One More Bite

“Again,” I breathed.

“Soon.”

Before I could truly see straight I found myself standing in the hallway, my hands braced against the wall because my legs still weren’t teaming up, listening to my heart pound against my ribs as Vayl’s door opened and closed just feet from my buzzing ears.

“Holy crap, I think I have just lassoed a comet.”

Chapter Twelve

As I hiked upstairs I pulled a thin silver case out of my back pocket. It held the communications device that would allow me to talk to the guys from a distance of at least two miles. Cole had decided we needed a cool name for it, something catchy like walkie-talkie, only much less lame. After trying out and rejecting possibilities that included chattie-splattie and speak’n freak, he’d settled on the party line.

The microphones resembled beauty marks. Mine rested beside my lip. The receivers, just slivers of clear-coated wire that used a dangly gold earring as an anchor, wound around and into the ear. When we’d tried them in the airport, Cole had commented that his hoop made him resemble a pirate. If he’d have slid on an eye patch and blackened a few teeth I might have agreed. But Vayl pulled his off the best. Maybe it was his Rom ancestry or Bergman’s sunscreen, but I thought he looked freaking hot. Kinda like Jake Gyllenhaal with fangs and a shudder-to-think-of-it past. Especially when he slapped on the transmitter, a barbed-wire tattoo that emphasized the bulge of his right bicep.

I grabbed the rail. Holy crap, are my knees spazzing out under me? I thought that only happened in Victorian romance novels! Geez, the next thing you know I’ll be having the vapors just when I need a steady aim!

Resolutely redirecting my thoughts to matters more supportive to my muscles—like whether I really believed Bergman’s wrist-launched Mongoose-juice was gonna work against Bea’s head fulla snakes—I made it to the fourth floor without once falling on my butt. When I reached the landing I noted the wall on my right, which led to Floraidh’s room, had been covered with peach-tinted paper featuring tiny white flowers with yellow centers.

Photos of the Scidairan and various women smiling as they posed in woodsy settings hung between the two doors to my left. I peeked in the first, surprised at how deep the linen closet ran. These old houses might not provide much storage space, but by damn when they built one, that sucker offered up some shelving. I didn’t try the knob to the next room, my senses telling me a run-in with Dormal would be the result. And since I didn’t have to play brave at the moment, I could freely admit she scared me a little. Walking close to her felt like sidling up to a pissed-off silverback.

With that in mind, I snapped the band of my way-cool watch, which had been storing up my kinetic energy for just such a moment. As I sneaked past the doors it helped shield the sound of my movements. With that and Tolly’s bracelet to protect me, I felt pretty confident that neither Scidairan could detect me.

As I passed Floraidh’s room, I noticed a unique symbo Vfonl inked on the upper-left-hand corner of the door. It resembled an upside-down Celtic cross. I didn’t stop to study it, but it looked as if a real diamond had been set in its center. A glance at Dormal’s door confirmed the same design.

Assuming Floraidh wouldn’t allow a camera up here, Cole had only asked if he could set up an ectoplasm sensor at the far end of the hall. It perched on a round, cloth-covered table, nestled against a silk flower arrangement like an electronic tumor. It resembled a pair of mini binoculars held upright by a small tripod. On top of the binoculars sat a rectangular scanner whose marquee lights blinked red, green, and yellow in quick succession. Bergman had disguised all the equipment so beautifully it could’ve convinced an avid fan of the Ghostbusters movies. I stuck my tongue out at the double lenses as I returned to the stairs to wait.

I took a seat a couple of steps below the landing, just out of sight of the hallway. My noodly legs thanked me for the break, encouraging me to review the events that had led to their less-than-stellar function. And I’d like nothing better than to lose myself in the memory of the past few minutes. My whole body tingled, like I’d taken a bath in hot peppers. I had a wild urge to run back to Vayl’s room, where I’d demand some sort of exotic striptease before shoving him onto his bed, after which—

Concentrate, Jaz. If Floraidh dies because you were fantasizing about the hunka-hunka-burning- love in the room next to yours, you will never, ever forgive yourself. Even if she is a certified scuz.

Within a couple of minutes I heard a door open. Then a knock. I eased to my feet. “Floraidh?” Dormal murmured.

Another click. “I’m ready.”

“You look worried.”

A pause. Small thump, as if Floraidh had let herself fall against the wall. “He came to me just now. Rose right out of Oengus’s skull. Just a vision, of course, but Lucifer! I could have had a heart attack, it happened so sudden!”

Dormal sounded shaken herself when she said, “What did he want?”

“We have to do it sooner. He said tonight. Tomorrow at the latest.”

“But  .  .  .  we’re not ready! We need a thousand more—”

“We have to find a way! That young stud and his chic boss gave me five hundred just now to set up their useless equipment. If we do well at the convention, we might make enough to force him to sell—”

“We can’t press the spell that hard and you know it! Manipulations like these must be finessed, or they’ll be discovered. Especially by a man with as tight a fist as that Haigh fellow. Scidair’s wig, Floraidh, this scheme of yours is going to get us burned!”

“Or make us the most powerful coven ever to walk the earth! Think what we could accomplish if we succeed!”

“Are you sure this isn’t personal?” Huh, I’d have expected worry in her tone still. But that almost sounds like jealousy.

“We’ve been over this!”