The Luureken, whose shoulder stil slumped from the slug Cole had shot through it, hadn’t escaped the sharp edge of Vayl’s weapon, a butcher’s cleaver he must have stolen from Chef Henri. Because he’d sliced four spikes off the Luureken’s head, leaving behind freely bleeding stumps.
I cal ed from the front of the crowd, “Lord Brâncoveanu, it’s us. We need to get moving. We have Ahmed.” He ignored me. I understood. This was his battle now. It should’ve been over a lot sooner. Except Vayl was…
savoring… the violence. His eyes bright red with bloodlust, he repeatedly wounded when he could’ve kil ed. And al I could do was admire him. Because no one had forced him to become the vampire Pete had partnered me with. The quiet, control ed creature who never hunted, and kil ed only for his adopted country. He’d pul ed himself out of the mire without help. That took guts. And strength. And honesty. I couldn’t remember when I loved him more.
But there was such a thing as overkil . And the longer we waited, the more likely it would be that the other two Luureken-mounted Weres would show up to swing the odds.
I murmured, “Keep a sharp eye out. The other guards could be—”
A scream and a thump on the back stopped me. I turned around, raising Vayl’s cane like a club. What I saw was Bergman being dragged away, gaping members of the crowd leaning in to get a good look and maybe a camera-phone shot of whatever had hooked him through his side.
“Miles!” I bolted after him, shouldering past muttering bystanders who’d only now begun to realize that they weren’t watching a performance set up just for them. In my favor was the fact that the wolf was slowed by the crowd as wel . Plus he had a rider and dead weight to drag. I caught up with them less than a minute later when he tried to swing around orange juice cart number twenty-seven and col ided with a red-robed water sel er, sending the man, his enormous tasseled hat, and al five of his shiny golden cups crashing to the ground.
I threw myself at the Luureken, so keyed on vengeance for Bergman that no amount of cute could veer me off, not even the lumpy-headed-pup look this one wore. I brought the rider off its mount, our impact making it drop the raes and sending Vayl’s sheath flying. Bergman screamed again as the hook jarred inside him.
“Miles! The bolo! For chrissake, use it!” I yel ed.
Losing its rider had staggered the wolf. But it recovered fast. And its chest wound wouldn’t keep it from turning on my friend. I prayed that he wasn’t too deep in shock to react as I jammed the sword into the Luureken’s neck, felt muscle give, and then bone. It fel to the street like an abandoned dol .
A scream, more animal than human, and yet I wasn’t sure whose mouth it came from until I saw Bergman trying to shove the limp Were off his chest. I ran over to help, and together we slid it aside, stil breathing, but not for much longer.
Bergman gazed up at me, his face so bloodless I’ve seen pinker corpses. “How bad is it?” he gasped.
My eyes did not want to drop to that wound, to take in the torn and bleeding flesh. But we both needed to know. I froze my face into an unreadable mask. Leaned over him and pul ed up his shirt.
My relief put me on my ass.
“What is it?”
I looked up at him, smiled at his bravery. My good Miles, not even crying like he would’ve been only a few months ago. “I don’t know how you did it. Probably al those hours you spent sitting in front of computer screens. But your limited amount of body fat has al commuted to your love handles. And that’s what the Were snagged. It’s going to hurt like a muther for a long time. And we stil have to worry about infection. But I think you’re going to make it.” We grinned at each other. I’d have hugged him, but I figured he’d had enough shocks for one day. Then his smile vanished. “What about Ahmed?”
“The others can take care of him.”
“Not with the rest of the wolves on the loose!”
“Dude. I’m not leaving you bleeding on the ground in freaking Marrakech! Besides, there’s only one or two left that we real y have to worry about, and they’ve both been shot—”
He shook his head. “You’re not thinking straight. Vayl might never come back to you if you’re not there tonight.
Monique gave me her number. I’l cal her. She’l help me get to a hospital.”
I couldn’t speak. Miles had been around before Vayl.
Before Matt, even. I suddenly realized he’d been the first person after Dave and Evie to real y be there, day after day. Even later, somehow he’d remained a presence. And now, with a goddamn claw shoved through his side, he wanted me to leave?
He reached up and squeezed my hand. “I stil want you to be my partner. You and Vayl both. But how can that happen if he spends the rest of our lives in a history book?
Go get him back. Please. ” He tightened his fingers until it hurt. For once, the shutters that closed off every mystery behind his eyes opened wide, and I could see how much this meant to him.
But my father had been a Marine. I knew what he’d say if I left a man behind. I knew what I’d think of myself. I sat on my heels, so torn by this decision I couldn’t bear to look at him. Then it hit me.
I glared into the gathering crowd and shouted, “Yousef! I know you’re out there, you mangy little perve! Yousef!
Where—that’s better!” I said as my stalker squeezed himself between a couple of Japanese tourists and knelt down beside me.
“You arrrre—”
“I know, I’m pretty. Is Kamal with you?”
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. A beat later the boy worked his way into our circle, apologizing to the people he’d had to displace as he went. As soon as he saw Miles he did one of those girlie screams that made you wonder if his voice real y had changed, and his eyes began to rol up in their sockets. I slapped him hard on the thigh, which got a giggle from Yousef.
“Kamal! Don’t pass out, dammit, I need you to speak for me!”
He turned around, holding his hand behind his back as if I needed to be fended off. “Don’t make me look!”
“For chrissake, Kamal, just tel Yousef I need him to stay with my friend, here, until the woman who owns our riad shows. Her name’s Monique Landry. I’m betting she’l be here in less than three minutes, four if she decides to cal in a rescue helicopter.”
Kamal translated. Yousef shook his head.
Kamal said, “He wants to go with you. To fol ow. Always to fol ow.”
I grabbed Yousef by the col ar and twisted until his face began to turn red. “You tel this son of a bitch if he doesn’t watch over my friend I wil never, ever choke the shit out of him again. You got that?”
Kamal talked. Fast. Yousef’s vigorous nod was al I needed to see. I slapped him across the face. Twice. He kissed my hand. Can I pick ’em, or what?