Chapter Fourteen
I thought about Disa getting her way like some spoiled brat who’s managed to cruise through life on Mommy’s looks and Daddy’s Visa. And the more I considered, the hotter I got. She thinks she’s got us all right where she wants us, huh? It’s too bad somebody didn’t rip her face off when—my thoughts halted as somewhere in the house an alarm went off.
STOP STARTING FIRES! The voice of my Spirit Guide, booming at me across the planes of our existences like a mountain with a megaphone, sounded disgusted. Like I was some kind of arsonist or something!
It’s not me, Raoul!
YES, IT IS.
Even if I thought I was capable, which I don’t, why would I be doing that?
YOU TELL ME.
I thought about how I’d been feeling before the alarms went off. And about my overall mood lately. Well, I suppose I have been a little . . . wound up . . . recently. I’ve got a stressful job, don’t I? And now that I don’t have cards as an outlet. Or sex. Or drinking, drugs, gambling . . . You know what? How about you just leave me the hell alone? If I could set stuff on fire with my mind, I should be allowed to burn down the whole damn villa if I feel like it!
Amusement in his tone now. YOU DON’T MEAN THAT.
Why was it that everybody knew me better than I knew myself? Un-freaking-fair.
Okay, maybe not. Inner sigh. So what are you saying? I’ve developed some sort of mental Aim ’n’ Flame? And it just goes off arbitrarily?
NOTHING RANDOM ABOUT YOUR TINDER.
I recalled that both times the fires had started I’d been mad as hell. But apparently instead of steam coming out my ears, I’d caused flames to pop up in my least favorite stomping grounds.
What am I supposed to do? I asked Raoul in utter frustration.
CONTROL YOURSELF.
That was easy for him to say. If he didn’t have to fight creeping evil every time he turned around, he’d probably be a saint by now. However, since he could probably fry my brain just by clearing his throat, I decided to cooperate. Self-control would be a cinch if Disa was dead, so I tried to calm myself with an imaginary montage starring both of us. Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could do a little Cartoon Network scene where I blew her up with TNT, dropped her off a mountain, ran her over with a steamroller, and catapulted her into the side of Rockefeller Center, after which she would get up, stumble around groggily for a few seconds, shake it off, and then impale herself on my lance-sized stake? Ahh, if life was only like television. I’d certainly feel better. In fact, just fantasizing about it elevated my mood.
THAT’S BETTER, said Raoul. REMEMBER YOUR POKER FIXATION AS WELL.
His voice had such finality to it that I felt a surge of panic. No, wait, don’t leave yet! I’ll practice shifting the chips, I promise. But I have to know what to do about the firebug trait I’ve suddenly developed. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m in a major predicament with this Disa mess. Couldn’t you—
ON THE FIRST ISSUE—PRACTICE. I’M OUT ON THE SECOND.
Why?
NOT MY FIELD OF EXPERTISE. I wished we had video to go along with the words in my head. Because I was sure it would’ve confirmed the deceit I heard in his voice. It wasn’t that he couldn’t help. He simply wouldn’t. Which was when I realized my Spirit Guide didn’t approve of my sverhamin. I wasn’t overly surprised. On paper they seemed to fall on opposite philosophic poles. But we were all working toward the same goal here. Which made me feel like Raoul was being somewhat narrow-minded. I wondered if it was a personal deal, or if he was acting on orders from Above.
Either way, we were SOL. Judging by the stubborn set of Vayl’s jaw, he wouldn’t have accepted outside help on this anyway. He spoke to Dave since I obviously had nothing useful to say. “I wonder if perhaps Disa is still smarting from the humiliation I brought down on her when she was still human. She hates to lose. Perhaps she has found a way to exact her revenge upon me after all these years.”
“I could drop a boulder on her head,” I murmured.
“Excuse me?” said Vayl.
I looked at my watch. “Wow, three a.m. Where has the time gone? Are we squared away on the dognapping?”
Dave nodded. “Just what I was going to ask. I understand our cover. But not how we’re supposed to get this mutt’s attention.”
“Bergman has provided us with the tools we need,” said Vayl. He turned to me. “Jasmine?”
Since I’d packed the goodies, it came to me to run into the bedroom and unearth the plain silver aerosol cans that contained Bergman’s invention. Barely resisting the urge to cover my brother in doggy-sniff mist, I tossed him one can and gave the other to Vayl. As I resumed my seat I said, “When I told Bergman we needed to take temporary custody of a large canine, he sent me these. He said to treat them like bug spray.”
“You mean, they’re a repellent?” asked Dave.
“Just the opposite. As soon as he gets a whiff of us, he’ll want to be friends for life. He’ll go anywhere with us, no problem. By the way, the dog’s name is Ziel.”
“What’re we going to smell like to him?” Dave asked. “Steak?”
“That’s what I asked. No, Bergman says he won’t think we’re dinner. It’s more a let’s-play kind of scent. Like we’re just a couple of other malamutes.”
“Is this a prototype?”
“Nope. He invented it about five years ago. Tried and true.”
“So we are set,” Vayl pronounced. “You two will use Bergman’s spray to aid in your mission tomorrow. Samos is staying at a hotel called the Olympia. David already has the address because he is going to place cameras outside the entrances at his earliest convenience.” He rubbed his hands together like he was about to dig into a big old piece of apple pie. But I knew better. He just didn’t know what else to do with them. Which was when I realized what had been missing from the overall picture.
“What happened to your cane?” I asked.
He opened his empty hands, stared at them as if he’d just seen them for the first time today. When his eyes rose to meet mine, they were nearly black with fury. “I cannot remember. But I can imagine.”
“Disa,” we both said at the same time. We looked at Dave.
“Exactly what happened in that meeting?” I demanded. “Describe everything. Any detail could make the difference.”
“What are you saying?” asked Dave. “What’s the cane got to do with the meeting?”
“Maybe nothing,” I told him, shooting Vayl a comforting look. “Maybe you just left it under your chair when it was time to go.”
“But I have never forgotten it,” Vayl said, rubbing the heel of his hand across his forehead. “It has been my constant companion for over two hundred years.”
I nodded. “Which means it’s become a part of you. Objects like that can be dangerous when they fall into the wrong hands. So”—I turned back to my brother—“details.”
Dave scratched his cheeks, the sandpaper scrape of his nails against the new growth of his beard the only sound in the room. “We went to Disa’s private quarters. There’s a stone balcony built off her bedroom with a wall that curves out and a stairway that leads to the ground floor. That’s where the talk happened. There weren’t many chairs, so most of us stood. In fact, I think the only people who sat were Vayl and Disa.”