CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Returning to Vayl’s battle felt like watching an überlong chase scene. Oh look! The cars are a little more dented and I’m pretty sure that tire is going to go flying off the rim before it’s over, but they’re still driving!
As I caught Cole’s eyes and gave him a reassuring nod, I tried to swal ow that Vayl’s-enjoying-the-shit-kicking-way-too-much feeling and concentrate on what to do next.
But I couldn’t. It was the fact that even Marrakech has authorities, who I didn’t want to piss with if I didn’t have to.
And though our whole operation hadn’t taken more than a few minutes, they were certainly on their way by now. Plus, blood was every-damn-where. Vayl’s worst wound seemed to be on his calf. Hard to assess from where I stood, spinning his cane in my hand, debating my next move.
Except that I could tel he was favoring it, and every step he took left a bloody imprint on the street.
I went to stand by Sterling, who had Ahmed by the arm.
Kyphas held the other. She’d been studying the mage like a biologist dissects a frog. She noted my presence with a shrug of one shoulder and went back to her thoughts. I reminded myself not to leave her alone with the Wielder. My life could depend on it.
Sterling glanced away from the snarling Were with its blood-streaked fur and shrieking rider battling a scarily silent vampire to ask, “How’s the genius?”
“He’l be okay.” I didn’t think I could say more without bawling, so I stopped.
“You’re hurt,” he said, his eyes acknowledging the gashes on my arms.
I shrugged. “I’l heal. But we’ve gotta get Ahmed outta here before we get shredded by whatever remains of this pack. Any ideas?”
Cole drew his PSG1 out from under his coat. “Yup.” The people standing closest to him gasped and drew away as he took careful aim at the snarling fighters. He went so stil that for a few moments he seemed to have left his own body. No sparkle in his eyes. No breath.
Vayl slashed at the Luureken, causing it and its Were to rear back.
Cole squeezed the trigger.
Vayl’s opponent roared with pain as chunks of its chest blew away. The bul et traveled through its back and into the Luureken’s bel y, throwing it from its mount.
“That’l work,” I said.
Cole restashed his rifle and moved forward, grabbing Vayl by the elbow. “Helena’s in trouble,” he said. “The only way to save her is to get the mage out of here now.” He jerked his head backward at Ahmed, whose lips had begun to tremble. “Come on.”
More than anything, Vayl’s decision to cooperate was based on his trust in his valet. At least that’s what I decided as we double-timed it down the street, leaving the crowd behind us in chaos. He didn’t question Cole’s sources or wonder aloud how a servant could generate a rescue plan.
He just came along.
Our plan had been to haul Ahmed back to the riad and force a reversal spel from him. But that was before we found out about his shaggy friends, none of which did we want within scenting distance of Monique. We couldn’t go to the city’s safe house, because we weren’t on official business. Which left another hotel—also putting innocents at risk—or Ahmed’s place.
I picked the mage’s pocket with a sweet little move I’d learned from a prostitute in Thailand, one that Sterling found so disturbing he pul ed his own wal et out and stuffed it down the front of his pants.
“Like I’d try anything like that with you,” I said as I checked out Ahmed’s ID.
“You won’t now,” he said defiantly.
“That’s for sure.” I flipped the long black case closed and slipped it back into the mage’s pocket. “Turn right at the end of the block,” I said. “He owns a music shop about five minutes from here.”
The knowledge would drive me a little crazy if I dwel ed on it. I’d probably passed the place twice during my scouting trips around Marrakech, never realizing who owned it or what he was doing to Vayl. I turned to my partner, looking for the kind of comfort he hadn’t given me in days. “You look pretty toasty,” I told him.
Vayl swept a lily-white hanky from his breast pocket and dabbed at his face. I couldn’t decide if I was more floored by the fact that it had total y missed being spattered by blood in the first place, or that he even had a pocket left after that melee. “If, by that, you mean I am nearly done in, you may be right. This life has left me soft, just when I most need battle hardening.”
“Wel , sir, most vamps I’ve met would’ve been smoke within a couple of seconds of meeting those Weres back there.”
He glanced down at me, the bite on his face already completely healed. “I could have finished them quickly,” he said. Not bragging. Just tel ing it like it was. “At first I did not because I knew the best way to infuriate Roldan would be to kil them slowly. But then I began to think that I should only kil for the right reasons. And the very idea confused me. In fact, it infuriated me. Why would I think such a thing?” I hid a triumphant smile. “Maybe you’re changing.” He pounded himself on the chest. “I am eternal!” I laughed. “You’re such a goril a.”
“I am no such thing. Why do you persist in—” I cut him off with a wave toward his leg. “Your pants are so bloody they’re sticking to your skin. Do we need to bandage it right away?”
He wrinkled his nose. “The Luureken bit me.”
“How… doesn’t matter. Come on, we’ve got a lot to do before the rest of the Weres regroup, and first aid for you is at the top of the list.”
We entered a neighborhood that was, once again, fil ed with stores whose roofs had been used as anchors for swaths of sun-shading material. None of the souks were open for business at this hour, but the signs above the doors showed even the il iterate what to expect inside.
Pottery. Rugs. Jewelry. Musical instruments so numerous you could barely see the wal s beneath them. When it was open. Tonight the door was locked, making it resemble a dark brown Hitler mustache against the pink skin of the building’s outer wal . Which went straight up, as if it had been built to imprison whoever wandered inside.
Sterling glanced over his shoulder. “Look, Chil , it’s like a third-world band closet. What do you say we go shopping for that guitar?”
I didn’t ask Sterling how he knew the address matched our mage’s ID. Sooner or later I’d figure it out, and it wouldn’t do to look ignorant in front of the captive. So I said,
“Sounds like a plan,” and watched him pul Ahmed toward the shop, his hips and shoulders moving to that internal rhythm that marked him as surely as a tattoo. At the mage’s other shoulder, Kyphas seemed more like an attachment, built for the ride, but not committed to it.
She was, however, wil ing to hold on to the mage while Sterling dealt with the Wielder’s lock. In fact, she seemed fascinated by Sterling’s amulet, watching with the greed of a jewel thief as he pul ed it out from beneath his shirt and a jewel thief as he pul ed it out from beneath his shirt and held it between his cupped hands. When his fingers began to glow red, I shouldn’t have been surprised at my own reaction. My Sensitivity had jumped a few notches since I’d last rubbed against Sterling’s powers. But this was eerie.
Like breathing air from a hot oven.
I glanced at Cole, but he didn’t seem to be as bothered by the warlock’s rising powers as I was. He’d pul ed his Beretta and was watching Kyphas do her tahruyt-to-sword trick. So I unleashed Grief and said to Vayl, “This could get hairy. Here.” I handed him the cane. “If you twist the blue jewel at the top, the sheath wil shoot away from the sword that’s hidden inside.”