Escape also came in the form of two corner-built gazebos hung with raspberry-colored curtains that could be closed for extra privacy. Inside, Monique had placed two couches framed in metal that was bent to reflect the shovel-shaped arches that showed up in so much of Marrakech’s architecture. The burgundy cushions topped with enough pil ows to satisfy an entire legion of interior decorators cozified them.
I’d been admiring those gazebos for days, thinking about what Vayl and I might have gotten away with behind their thick curtains if he hadn’t been brain-fried. Now I their thick curtains if he hadn’t been brain-fried. Now I shared them with my crew, watching the sky darken, waiting for the moment when—there. Cirilai sent a shot of warmth into the palm of my hand. The ring Vayl’s grandfather had made to protect his soul had warned me he was waking.
Which meant it was time to prepare the troops.
I looked at Bergman, sitting with his hands in his lap.
Across a glass-topped table framed in exotical y carved wood and covered with flickering candles sat Kyphas. I kept my eyes on her couch because, honestly? I could stil barely look at her without reaching for the gun strapped to my shoulder. So what if she’d promised Cole to stop trying to corrupt souls for the Great Taker. My reaction?
Sure, and my belly ring’s set with moon rocks.
What I hoped was that she’d keep her paws off Cassandra now that we’d promised her Brude and a shot at the Oversight Committee in our psychic’s place. Four souls for one? Come on, that’s like a damn clearance sale, even if the soul you’re giving up had promised herself to you over five hundred years before. In return she’d agreed to help us find the Rocenz, which, because it had been demon-crafted, was more likely to be rediscovered by a demon. She’d even signed on to helping us carve Brude’s name onto hel ’s gates. What a gal.
The problem was, Kyphas didn’t believe in generosity.
In fact, greed tended to ooze out of her like hangover sweat. Cole might not recognize the stench. But he tended to get distracted as soon as boobs starting bouncing within his line of sight. I knew that for Kyphas, the more souls she took back to hel with her when this was al over, the higher she’d rise up the hierarchy, so she’d be looking for any loophole she could find in her contract with us. No Cassandra? Okay. Cole’s soul probably looked as juicy as a medium rare T-bone to her.
And she did look like she could gobble him whole as she eyed him from under her lashes. Which caused me to growl a little louder than I’d intended to when I said, “We can’t put Vayl off any longer. He keeps asking for a girl named Helena. We think that must be you, Kyphas. Play the part or—”
“Or what?” The demon’s perfectly pink lips quirked in amusement. “Go ahead, threaten me some more, Jaz.”
“He cal s me Madame Berggia. You should too,” I snapped, reaching for Grief.
“You know, Kyphas, you are probably the most beautiful woman I have ever fantasized about,” Cole said as he laid his arm across my shoulders. She sat forward, giving him ful access to her halter-topped, tight-jeaned magazine-cover bod. He took his time with the view. Then he said,
“Why do you have to be such a bitch al the time?” She sat up straight, crossing her arms as he went on, almost casual y, like he was discussing the price of lawn mowers this season. “I’ve kil ed snakes that were cuddlier than you. Wel ”—he glanced at me—“those inland taipans you offed during that Scidairan witch mission were pretty gnarly. But I remember this pygmy rattlesnake I had to shoot during a case in Miami when I was stil a PI. It was actual y pretty—”
“Al right!” Kyphas slapped her hand against the armrest. “I’l cooperate!” She glared at Bergman. “Am I that bad?”
He shook his head, but the shake slowly turned to a nod. The motion made his hair bounce, which activated Cole’s AGR (automatic giggle response). Because, despite my daily suggestions to dye it back to brown, Bergman insisted that if he modeled his look after Cole’s he might have the same luck with women. So far he’d gotten two imaginary cel numbers and an outright, “Are you kidding me?” Personal y I thought his head was too big and his frame too skeletal to pul it off. He needed a girl who was into unwrapped mummies.
Or, maybe, one who enjoyed feeding people. Monique had come out with a tray ful of cookies and tea just in time to say to Cole, “Lord Brâncoveanu is cal ing for you.” She smiled sympathetical y, stil buying our loony-but-lovable uncle story. Which is why nice people are always getting suckered.
I reminded myself to leave her a big tip as I fol owed Cole out of the courtyard, motioning for the others, especial y Kyphas/Helena, to fol ow us to Vayl’s door.
Where we waited while Cole went in to do valet crap. Ten minutes later he invited us into the suite.
I felt a familiar pang of regret as I glanced at Vayl’s bed, its white spread resembling a cast-off wedding dress.
Except the mesh canopy that draped overhead and tied at each corner of its black metal support was a rich chocolaty brown. And the black-domed sleeping tent perched underneath that veil seemed less like a vampire’s shield from stray rays of light than a tunnel into another universe.
Cole said, “He’s changing. Thank God I talked him out of needing assistance with that yesterday! Have a seat.” Bergman and Kyphas moved into the conversation area, which contained a fireplace, a couch, and matching armchairs upholstered in bright green satin. I took the round white ottoman that stood between them, ignoring the couch because, frankly, I needed Bergman’s moral support.
Vayl swung open the bathroom door and strode out, the deep line between his red-rimmed eyes announcing his hunger. He wore a black button-down shirt with purple pin stripes and tailored slacks that kissed the tops of his shiny black boots. Cole handed him his duster and he shrugged it on as if he was chil y. In fact, he’d informed “Berggia” that he felt naked without it.
Bergman leaned next to my ear, since nothing had happened to injure Vayl’s hearing, and whispered, “How happened to injure Vayl’s hearing, and whispered, “How does he pul that off? It’s hot enough for shirtsleeves but I guarantee you nobody wil harass him about his outfit. I’d probably get the crap kicked out of me if I tried to pul that off. But he’s so manly strangers wil probably stop him on the street to ask where they can tour his castle.” I sighed. Vayl’s vibe was working on me, as wel , but in more of an oh-baby-let’s-play-doctor kind of way. Before I could pul myself together, Vayl held out his arms. His smile, while it kept the fang-reveal to a minimum, was so gentle that for a second I thought he’d come back to himself. My heart jumped, making an utter fool of itself, when he fol owed the gesture by saying, “Madame Berggia. You have brought my little Helena to see me. What a fine way to greet the new day!”