He looked hard at me, trying to decipher my expression. "Okay, I'll go. As soon as you give me your number." I started to argue but, like a magician sliding an ace out of his sleeve, Vayl pulled out our business card and handed it to him.
Cole read it aloud. "Robinson-Bhane Antiquities—Specializing in 18th Century Rarities." He looked at Vayl. "I guess you can do that when you've had first-hand experience." Vayl didn't even raise an eyebrow. I'd begun to think nothing surprised him, not even being outed as a vamp by a P.I. who looked like he'd just jumped off his surfboard.
"Call us when you have made arrangements with Amanda Assan," Vayl said.
"I will," Cole replied, giving me an I-will-return look.
I nodded, hoping he'd pocket the card, forget where he'd put it and wash it along with his pants. Then all he'd have left of me would be a wad of crumpled paper with some blurry writing on it.
Before I realized what he was doing, Cole leaned in and stole another kiss. "I'll see you," he said, then he turned and left.
"I hope not," I murmured as I watched him walk out the door.
"Jasmine…" Vayl's voice had dropped and softened to the point where I barely recognized it.
"Vayl?" He looked like he'd woken up to find some vital body part missing.
He shook his head. "Is the vampire still with us?"
"Yep."
"Let us take a walk then, shall we?"
"Okay." We headed back to the table, taking the long way around the restaurant. As we walked, Vayl spoke in a voice that only just reached my ears.
"Perhaps you should get out as well."
It took every bit of focus I possessed not to keel over right then and there. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Your life, Jasmine. Your short, beautiful life." I recognized Vayl's expression. It said, If you're going to break my heart, make it quick. The last guy who'd shown it to me had been my high school sweetheart the night I left him behind. Though I could tell he didn't want to, Vayl kept talking, "You wish to protect Cole from the very thing that defines your existence. What does that say to you?"
"I define my existence," I told him through clenched teeth. "I choose to be here, now. Cole didn't have that choice. He just fell into it. That's a good way to drown." And he's already done that one too many times. Vayl let it go.
We made it back to our seats with no extra-sensory alarm going off in my head. "The vamp must be in the bar," I said as we sat, hoping my businesslike tone would calm us both. "Move in, or wait?" I itched to deliver some old-school violence to Charlie's killer's table. Action, that's what I needed. All this thinking was driving me nuts. But I knew what Vayl would say.
"Wait."
We waited. We made small talk. We ate. It's all part of the job, in the end, and we try to do the job well.
Now that I knew the vamp's scent, I could differentiate it from Vayl's much better than I had at first. It stayed in one place for another thirty minutes. Then it moved. We'd already paid the check, so we moved too. Still we almost blew it. Like most vamps, this one came with an entourage, and the last of the group was stepping into a glistening black limo when we reached the parking lot.
One of the first lessons I learned at the absence of my father's knee was that life isn't fair. Sometimes innocent little kids get stuck with dads who keep leaving and moms who hand out far too many whippings. And sometimes those are the very kids who grow up to learn that everybody leaves sooner or later, by chance or by death, and it's never fair. So, though it wasn't fair at all, it was still true that the one guy still standing outside the limo possessed the ability to spot federal agents at a distance of 50 yards. Apparently he also possessed the ability to deal with them, because he motioned for his three buddies to leave their seats and join him. They headed our way, the four of them stopping with about 15 paces left between us—what I like to refer to as dueling distance.
It felt like the O.K. Corral on steroids. There they stood, making a formidable first impression even without the Tech-9s they held casually at their sides. I felt my skin tighten in alarm at the ease with which they carried those deadly weapons. These were guys who would shoot first and ask questions never. Why was I ever scared of the monsters I thought were under my bed? I wondered. These are the real bogeymen.
Despite the crisp January breeze, the goon who'd spotted us wore a sleeveless gray T-shirt, exposing massive tattooed biceps. Beside him stood a tall, red-headed man whose mustache grew down either side of his lips to his neck and further south until it disappeared into his chest hair. He had that look in his eye that said, I've hilled things with shovels and enjoyed it.
A bright red scar split the third man's right cheek into halves, the knife that had caused it also leaving behind one milky white eye to remind its owner to dodge a little sooner next time. The fourth man had Chinese eyes, a Russian weightlifter's physique and an American biker's goatee. He grinned, revealing a couple of gold teeth, and pointed a long, sheath-covered fingernail at my chest.
"You got a problem?" he drawled, obviously expecting me to pee my pants before falling to the ground and groveling like an unworthy subject of the Emperor. And that was all it took. A new, screw-you attitude took precedence, trampling my fear under its boots. A highly dangerous approach, I still found it much easier to bear.
"Well it all goes back to my childhood…" I began, but the emergence from the limo of a black, high-heeled pump attached to a shapely, stockinged leg interrupted me.
"I don't like the looks of this," I murmured to Vayl.
He just grunted. He centered on the show now as a second leg joined the first. Silver sequins glittered as moonlight hit the hem of her knee-length dress. One elegant hand came out to grasp tattooed dude's paw and the rest of her finally appeared.
"Hey, look Vayl," I murmured, "it's vampire Barbie."
From her waist-length platinum hair to her surgically enhanced boobs, she looked like she'd been plucked from some Hollywood director's fantasy. The neckline of her dress plunged so deeply I hoped she'd used the extra-strength lingerie tape. Her huge violet eyes slanted just slightly, enough to give her the exotic look of some Sheik's plaything.
"Get a load of this," I said, "perfect makeup, perfect nails, perfect figure—it makes me want to shove her head-first into a steaming pile of horse crap. Why is it you can never find a mounted policeman when you need one?"
Vayl had no answers for me. At all. He'd gone still as a billboard photo.
"Do you know this woman?" I asked him. When he didn't answer, I shook him. He looked at me, his eyes blank. Dead.
"Who is she?"
"Liliana. My late wife."
Chapter Ten
Not a day goes by that I don't miss my Granny May. Mom, well to be honest, I'm kind of relieved she's gone. But her mother's passing still gets to me, even after three years. Sometimes I want to see her so badly it's a physical pain. Now I just wished she was here to prop me up, because damned if I didn't feel dizzy.
I watched Vayl watch Liliana approach us and totally failed to figure out how he felt about it. I, on the other hand, felt very clearly that the world had just begun to spin in the opposite direction. "Your… late… wife?" I whispered.
Vayl nodded, just a slight jerk of his head. "She died. Then she killed me. Ergo… late wife."
That song started going through my head, the only words I remembered being the most pertinent at the moment. How bizarre, how bizarre.