"Got it!" shouted Aidyn. "Now get her off me!"
It's time. I know it's time. Why am I so reluctant to reenter my body? I looked up, imagining the stars twinkling in the night sky, with my guide driving a black Jeep Cherokee between them, singing his own, special rendition of "When You Wish Upon A Star." A big part of me yearned for that sort of freedom. Someday, I promised myself, I'll have that. When the price isn't so high.
Letting go of my hesitation, I slid back into myself, trying to be gentle, unobtrusive even. Still, the rejoining hurt like a full-body charlie horse. I woke screaming, startling my captors so much that they screamed as well. Aidyn lurched to his feet, sending me tumbling into a pile of boxes. I laid there a second, stunned and sore, until Assan grabbed my arms and yanked me to my feet, the sword he wore banging into my shins. Sword? I thought. Weird. And then, Holy crap, he means to carve me with runes!
"Bitch!" he squealed, spraying my cheeks with a fine mist as his eyes blazed. "What did you do? What did you do?!"
I wiped my face and straightened my clothing. "I kept my word," I said, feeling too depressed, too bereft to even consider belting him. I'd gotten my body back, for cripe's sake, why this sense of loss? It overrode everything, even the anger I should be feeling at being chastised by this rotten little man with his pruny little soul. And then there was Aidyn, who made me understand exactly how Vayl had felt when he found his sons dead. I wanted him to die, oh yeah, but slowly and oh-so-painfully. Didn't I? Even that rage could not seem to overcome this terrible grief. I hoped I hadn't left it behind. I'd wanted so badly to release it, and now I wondered if I'd be able to muster it in time to ensure our survival tonight. If I couldn't, I hoped it became a little black rain cloud that hovered over these two dirtbags the rest of their days, sending out hailstones and lightning bolts at inopportune moments.
Assan shoved me toward the door and I stumbled. Aidyn caught me, kept me from falling. "Enough!" he snapped, glaring at his colleague, "we do not need her to break her neck on the eve of our triumph."
What did you say?
I jerked myself out of his grasp, my momentary grief burned away by the heat of a fury so sudden and searing I could barely breathe past it.
"Jasmine!" Vayl's voice buzzed distant in my ear, "What is wrong? I have never sensed such anger in you!"
"How many people have you bled out, Aidyn?" I demanded, my self-control beginning to shear away beneath the force of my feelings. "How many necks have you broken? Don't play gentleman with me. I know better."
"What?"
"Jasmine, God Jasmine, get hold of yourself!" Vayl's advice held no more impact than a whisper. But I did hear him.
"Oh yeah, I'll get hold of something." I grabbed Aidyn by the lapels of his Armani jacket. Whatever he saw on my face made his eyes go wide and scared. Assan grabbed my left arm, but I knew I could take them. A simple twist and push would put my hand at Assan's throat, leaving the other free to tear Aidyn's head off, after which I would punt it against the wall. Repeatedly.
Not yet. It wasn't a voice in my head, not really. Just a silvery bolt of reason that started at Cirilai and shot straight into my brain. I dropped my hands as the door flew open and a couple of Assan's goons trooped in.
"What are you doing here?" snapped Aidyn. "You're supposed to be policing the exits. We'll be sealing them any minute now."
One man, whose hair was the color and consistency of motor oil, spoke up. "Liliana has been watching the monitors. She told us you needed help."
Assan snorted and let go of my arm. "Hardly."
Aidyn ran both hands through his hair. "Stick to the plan, people! You two," he jabbed two fingers at Motor Oil and his smaller, greasier pal, "back to the exits. Liliana, Derek," he addressed a vent in the wall which apparently hid a camera, "you should have been downstairs with the Senator twenty minutes ago. Now, move!"
The goons scurried to obey as, I imagined, did Liliana and Derek.
"That goes for you too," Aidyn told me, his entire demeanor a Kodak moment in badly disguised wariness.
"Sure." I gave him a Lucille Robinson shrug, knowing that Jaz must be bottled right along with her rage if we were going to pull this off. Knowing also that when the lid came off, payback would be a bitch.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The scene in the monster pit had changed somewhat during my brief absence. I had a better view for one thing. Aidyn and Assan made sure of that. They escorted me straight to the front row while the faithful, with the addition of Bozcowski, Vayl's ex and Derek "Doomsday" Steele, chanted words in a language I didn't understand, but which my ears heard as, "Over llama catcha fur." The Tor-al-Degan swayed to the rhythm of the chant, her eyes half-closed as if in a trance. I should've cared more, but my proximity to Derek had doubled me over, and I was close to adding my own mound of puke to the nasty puddles of glop on the floor.
While I leaned against a column, trying to regroup, Bozcowski turned to face his audience, holding up his hands for silence. "Today, victory is ours!" he said, baring his shiny fangs as they applauded. "No longer must we watch our goddess hover between worlds, frustrated and impotent. We have found our willing sacrifice!" He presented me to the clapping crowd, a farmer proudly displaying his prize heifer.
I panicked briefly as they surged toward me, but they stopped short, staying at arm's length, well beyond reach of the Tor-al-Degan's grasp. The noise they made swept over me though, their whoops of joy pounding through my head like an ethanol-powered knitting needle. The monster behind me squealed, her high-pitched response making my eyes water.
Assan strode to the back of the pit, taking three large acolytes with him, while Bozcowski continued with the pep rally. I watched Assan's group return carrying the buffet table. They deposited it in front of the Tor and then knelt respectfully.
"No."
Bozcowski interrupted his speech to look at me, his scowl creasing his face like an origami sculpture. "What did you say?"
"No," I repeated, "as in no altar, no pagan sacrifice, no me laying down for it."
"But… you agreed."
"Yes, I agreed to die tonight. But I didn't agree how." Why did I agree to anything? I am, without a doubt, the stupidest woman on earth!
Assan and his cohorts had risen from their soggy knees to hear our conversation. Now Assan's bottom lip jutted out and his glassy black eyes narrowed to slits. "You have to use the altar. I brought the sacred sword and everything." As if I could've forgotten about the weapon that had cracked against my calves all the way down the back stairs and then nearly threw me head-first through the trap-door of the wine cellar when it had gotten tangled up between my ankles.
"Is that the same sword you used to leave little carvings in your brother-in-law's chest?" I asked it in a whisper. My churning gut wouldn't allow anything louder.
"Yes. But we won't need the runes for you. Just a clean, quick execution."
"Oh?" Weren't we being so polite? I could hardly stand it.
"We have no need to hold your soul in stasis because the Tor-al-Degan is already here, prepared to eat it. At least, most of her is here. The rest will arrive soon."
"I'm confused. She looks like she's all here. You can't see through her or anything."
"Looks can be deceiving." I thought about my recent trip outside Physicality and decided not to argue the point. But Vayl had told me to stall, so I reached over the nausea, past the dawning migraine, and plucked out a subject they wouldn't be able to resist.