Bergman said, “I just got done talking to Monique. She says Sister Hafeza Ghoumari lives just off the Rue El Koutoubia. I can guide you most of the way just watching Vayl’s blip. But when you need the right door, you’l be able to find it easily. She says it’s real y distinct, with dots like brown rivets in a flowery pattern at the top, and then more dots going down the front that are in more of a triangular pattern. Also the doorframe is set with a mosaic of white and yel ow tile.”
“Okay. I’m entering the Djemaa el Fna right now.
Where’s Vayl?”
“He’s on the north edge. Looks like he’s just leaving.
Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“He’s moving kind of slow. Like he does when he’s hunting. You’d better hurry, Jaz. I think he means to get a bite to eat before he visits the Sister.” Shit!
At night the Djemaa el Fna is like a city unto itself. And negotiating the crowds without getting your pocket picked or punching a butt-groper in the face was a feat unto itself. I skirted audiences gaping at the amazing feats of Tazeroualti acrobats and ordered myself not to get caught up in the wonder of their twisting, leaping tricks. I strode past circles of men roaring at the rambling tales of storytel ers whose nimble fingers mixed herbs and fire to make moving il ustrations in the air above their handwoven baskets. I shouldered past tourists bartering over silver jewelry or standing in line to have their fortunes told. And al the time I talked to the ring on my finger. Out loud. Like a crazy woman.
“Tel him,” I whispered. “Tel him I’m coming. He doesn’t need to do this. He doesn’t want to do this. Deep down, he knows it’s wrong. Don’t let him tear up his own soul… or…
whatever it is that makes him so… Vayl.”
As if in response to my pleas, Cirilai warmed my hand.
But it wasn’t much of a comfort. I could feel him, just beyond my reach, his powers rising like a winter storm. And in my own pounding head, an echo to the pain drumming through my brain, Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!
“Bergman! I’m through. I’m on the Rue El Koutoubia now.”
“Okay, turn left. Do you see the police station?” I looked at the building. Funny. No matter where you are in the world, you can tel cops work inside the place just from the way it holds itself. No fril s. With just enough bars and cement in the picture to bring prison to the minds of those who walked through its doors. But I read the sign to make sure. COMMISSARIAT DE POLICE. “I’m in the right place,” I told him.
“Vayl’s about two blocks past that. And Sister Hafeza is another couple of blocks west. Got it?”
“Yeah.” I pocketed my Party Line. No sense in Bergman hearing what I was about to say. And I real y didn’t want him to know what I was planning.
As soon as I left sight of the police station I broke into a run. Cirilai and my Sensitivity took me straight to Vayl. He was stil on the street, his attention whol y focused on a man who’d stopped halfway up the block to talk to a group of three friends. They al wore light gray jel abas and mustaches so heavy that their lips had given up the attempt to dig out from the avalanche.
“Lord Brâncoveanu! Whew, you’re a fast walker. I thought I’d never catch up to you!”
Vayl whirled, so pissed to be interrupted that he was actual y snarling. Oddly, that put me in a great mood. I shook my finger at him and grinned. “You went off without your supper. And here I’d prepared something especial y luscious for you.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You did?”
“Absolutely!” I strode up to him and slapped him on the back. “Big fel a like you needs his nourishment, right? We can’t have you staggering around Marrakech like one of those forty-day fasters, now, can we?” I linked my arm through his and drew him into a side street. “Here, let me take you to the feast, okay?”
Halfway down the block he stopped. “I am nearly at my destination. To backtrack now would waste time I do not have. Sister Hafeza—”
“Can wait a damn minute,” I growled. “Look. You promised yourself to stop hunting.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Not at al .”
“Vasil, you made a solemn vow—”
“Poppycock.”
I stared up at him. “Oh. My. God. You’re a pompous dick and an asshole. You’re a pockhole!” His nostrils flared so wide I’d have sworn he’d just gotten a good whiff of Yousef and Kamal. “Your services are no longer necessary. Gather your things and—” I waved him off. “Even in your current state you know I’m good for you. In fact, I’m probably the only thing standing between you and a permanent gig in Vampere hel . So listen up. I know you. I know what you’re going to do to yourself if you start hunting again, and I promised myself to help you. Which is why Berggia and I arranged wil ing donors for you these last three days who agreed to make it look like they were victims. But today I overslept, and obviously Berggia got sidetracked too.” Probably by the demon bitch. I can see this whole mess being one of her underhanded schemes. I went on. “I can see you’re hungry.”
Red flared in his eyes. “Starving.”
“So do me.”
We stood in a wide street lined with pink and brown buildings, some of which had rickety awnings attached above their tal doorways. These displayed smal lights that did little more than beam down, laserlike, on their museum-quality doors. The buildings were souks whose owners, during the day, would set out huge plaid bags ful of herbs and spices, or hang hand-spun skeins of wool from long white poles. Pleasant shopping even at noon, because swaths of material had been stretched across the street from roof to roof to cut the glare so that people could stand and haggle. At night, however, that meant deep shadows fil ed the al eyways.
Vayl pul ed me into the darkest spot, where part of a wal had crumbled away and no one had bothered to repair it. I don’t know why I thought he’d argue against my plan. He wasn’t the vampire I knew. He was a prequel. Like the Statue of Liberty must’ve looked when we first got her. Kind of obnoxious and brassy until she developed that eye-pleasing veneer that only the pounding of the elements and surviving to a ripe old age wil get you.
Stil , when he wrapped one arm around my waist, when my hands flattened against his chest, I couldn’t help the anticipation. And when his fangs sank into my throat, my gasp wasn’t purely pain. I closed my eyes and held him, fal ing into the rush of emotion like I’d just come off a water slide. Except when I surfaced I only had a second to gasp for air. Because it was already time for another ride.
Just like I had on the tower in Australia, I reached for Vayl through Cirilai. But this time, understanding the power he’d given me then to walk in his past, I visualized the specific time I needed to relive. And as my blood and Vayl’s powers danced, I opened my eyes. Over my sverhamin’s shoulder I focused on a window, its bars as black as the snakes that had once kil ed his beloved dog.
No, I don’t want to go to his childhood. Take me to 1777. Show me why Vayl really left England.
Yeah, I’d mostly bought his story that he’d taken Helena away for her own safety. Except for the part of me that didn’t buy the idea of Vayl running. From anybody.