He must’ve sensed my intent, because he answered quickly. “It assures the survival of our young, as some Makers have been known to abandon their—?Excuse me. Are you going to be sick?” He reached out.
Don’t. Touch me. “Are they . . . were Vayl and Disa bonded? Bound?”
Oddly, Niall glanced at his watch. “Actually, yes. About thirty minutes ago.”
“WHAT?”
He shrugged. “It makes no sense to me either. She sent the news to us through one of her guards. That was why we were trying to put the dining room to rights so quickly. She wants to have another feast tomorrow to celebrate her invocation of the binding.”
“Invocation. Binding.” The words seemed to sear themselves into the air as I released them. “What exactly does that mean?”
“Vayl has no choice. Despite the fact that he left the Trust, he is still her Maker. And so, for the length of time she requires, they are tied to one another. Like a married couple.”
“Like a married couple,” I parroted. My lips had gone numb.
Niall nodded. “Except without the option of divorce.”
I felt like I was speaking from behind my eyeballs and seeing from the top of my head. I recognized the tactic. Had used it before almost every hit of my career. “And how long . . . ”
“Fifty years.”
I looked down to make sure I hadn’t floated out of the chair. Nope, still sitting there, still breathing, even though I felt like I’d just been stabbed to death. Why is it that the deepest wounds never show?
“Oh.” I stood. Glanced at my knees, slightly surprised they were holding me up. “Oh,” I said again. I looked at Niall. “Will you excuse me, please?”
I went out the hallway door. Checked my bearings. Raised Cirilai to eye level. Since the ruby and diamond ring Vayl had given me connected us in all kinds of ways, one of which would bring him running if he sensed I was in danger, I blasted that message now as I strode away from our quarters. Soon I could sense them coming. Not just him. The whole bunch of them, just as I’d expected. Because if you were smart, you didn’t give the Tolic free rein of his old stomping grounds.
Rounding a corner I found them, Vayl in the lead, eyes narrowed, lips tight, the way they get when he’s worried. Dave followed close behind. And at their heels, Disa, Sibley, Marcon, and the sumo guards, unhappily stuck in the back because they were too big, the hallway too narrow for them to flank anyone. Brushing past Vayl, I walked up to Disa, raised the crossbow I held in my right hand, pressed it against her chest, and . . .
In that split second, when everything slows down before a killing, I saw and heard everything.
The fancy wallpaper, yellowed and peeling.
Dave, his bloodshot eyes bulging with shock, yelling, “What the hell are you doing?”
Vayl reaching out to grab me, bellowing, “Stop!”
Marcon’s eyes widening as he saw the advantages of a dead Disa in his Trust.
Sibley’s screech of dismay as her hands flew to cover her own chest.
The sumos’ desperate efforts to plow through the unmoving vamps in front of them.
Disa’s moment of paralysis, stemming from the conviction that, of all people, Vayl’s wimpy little avhar would never attempt such a thing.
I pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. I hadn’t released the safety after I’d left the bedroom. Never thought to do it in the hallway, because I’d assumed it was already done. And that mistake saved my life.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Disa demanded, her voice so close to high C my eardrums shivered. Part of me noticed something strange going on at her throat that even repeated swallowing couldn’t explain. But that observation got filed away with the rest under Who gives a shit?
“Vayl is my sverhamin,” I said, standing my ground despite the fact that the guards had made excellent headway and could almost reach me now. “He’s also my boss, my partner, and my . . .” I let that one drop. Too hard to speak from that point. “If I’d been there when the Wizard enslaved my brother I’d have shot the bastard right between the eyes. I wasn’t. But I’m here now. Nobody traps anybody who belongs to me. Not now. Not ever.”
When your gun fails, words can make for powerful mojo. But not as bad as a Vampere bond. I turned my back before Disa could see I knew that.
Chapter Ten
I stalked away from the shocked and gaping group. Within minutes I’d returned to the suite. I dropped onto the bed and lay there for a full thirty seconds before I realized it should’ve been full of werewolf. I bolted upright. “What the hell?” A rushed search of the room followed. Why I looked under the pillows and behind the painting I have no idea. My guess—too many hours spent watching Abbott & Costello marathons. I finally found the note where it had fallen on the floor beside the door.
Jasmine,
Trayton will be safer in my room. I have access to the outside in case we need a quick getaway. He says you’ll be worried, so please stop by soonest. I’m two doors down from Admes. You’ll know it by the warhorse carving.
Niall
I wadded up the note and fell back onto the bed. Trayton. The ultimate annoyance. Not so much because his move had scared the crap out of me. But because he’d known it would.
Suddenly the room smelled too much of him. I strode into the sitting area and slumped into a chair. Studied the floor. Interesting pattern in the growth of the wood that had gone into its making. Lovely lines and whorls all combining to form a nice hard place to rest my feet. Which were tapping like mini machine guns. That would be a satisfying way to take Disa out. Just shoot her in the head until it disintegrates. I jumped up and began to pace.
Each step seemed to click off the names of the people thrashing through my mind. Disa. Vayl. Dave. Trayton. Samos. Images of me pulling that trigger. Vayl, running his fingers through his hair, his eyes dark and fathomless. Dave looking horrified and slightly hungover. The blood vision. Trayton’s trusting gaze. Over and over again my mind ran that loop until I clenched my teeth, pissed that my brain had fallen right back into the torturous track it had built sixteen months before when I’d lost my love—my friends—and yeah, maybe a little bit of my sanity.
My phone rang. I looked at it. Not Vayl. Or Dave. Okay, I could talk to anyone else. “Yeah?”
“Jasmine.” Cassandra’s soft, low voice made me stop. One of the few Trayton had sensed on the inside of my heart, Cassandra had wanted to accompany me on this mission just like she had on the last two. But I’d reminded her and Bergman both that they had businesses to run and they’d better, by damn, pay some attention to them for a while. Thank God they’d listened to me. To have them here in the middle of all this—unbearable.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re barking.”
Instant guilt. Goddamn that Were. “I’m sorry, I just—you wouldn’t believe what I just did.” I paused. “Actually, you probably would.”
“I wonder if it was related to the vision I just had?”
“What did you See?”
“This is a pivotal time for you. If you kill anyone for the wrong reason, someone close to you will die as well. I didn’t see his face. Just yours, covered in tears, dark with despair.”
“Well, that’s pretty straightforward. Any more great advice before I pack Grief in mothballs?”
She ignored my sarcasm. “Only this. The woman I Saw must not die by your hand, or you will never be joined to Vayl.”