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around it, but nobody was sure he’d be able to keep his foot. He’d also suffered gaping wounds across his chest where, after repeated hits, the reaver’s claws had sheared through his body armor.
    Adela shrugged. “They all need to be evacuated,” she told him. “The sooner, the better.” Her eyes darted to Vayl’s and then away so fast you’d have thought she had a crush on him. Until you saw the sign she made with her right hand.
    Since I was sitting beside him it was easy to lean against his shoulder, give him the sideways nod. See that?
    The slight raise of his chin signaled he had. It was an ancient gesture made popular recently by a bunch of girls who’d achieved CNN status by declaring that a coven of vampires had tried to bewitch them over to the dark side. They said they’d saved themselves by using the sign to ward off evil. Called mano cornuto, it’s a gesture originated in Italy where the index and pinky fingers of the left hand are raised while the others are curled into the palm. So apparently if you’re a Texas Longhorns fan, making this gesture gets you both loyalty and protection from evil.
    As soon as these teenyboppers opened their mouths I knew a couple of things for sure. The vampire community, the ones trying to blend, to live in peace with humans and other supernatural beings, were probably laughing their asses off at the girls’ choice of verbiage. Vamps don’t organize into covens. Nor do they do any bewitching. Hypnotizing, yeah, but not bewitching. And they probably agreed with me that the dark side is mainly reserved for people who need to replace their lightbulbs.
    I also knew life wasn’t going to improve for Vayl or others like him while people like Adela were running around forking their fingers at them. And that was just the mild stuff. Before we’d boarded our Learjet for Germany, FOX News had reported that a group of drunken rednecks had lynched a woman in Alabama. They’d accused her of practicing black magic, hexing one of their buddies so that he couldn’t perform in the bedroom. And who knows, maybe they were right. Problem was, although the hanging had been carried out in broad daylight on the courthouse lawn, nobody would step up and point out the perpetrators.
    It’s an old story, I guess. People get away with murder all the time. In the end it does matter who you know, how much money’s in your account, and who gives a crap about you. It shouldn’t. But it does.
    On this mission, it would help a ton if our team of backup ass kickers felt friendly toward us. But sentiment seemed to be leaning hard in the other direction as the wounded sat stoically, staring at the ceiling, trying not to cry out as their comrades patched them up.

    Bergman joined Cole, Vayl, and I at the far corner of the semi, closest to the doors. Cassandra moved toward us as well, lost her balance, and nearly fell. Dave half rose and caught her, his hands steadying her at the waist as she found her equilibrium. “You okay?” he asked kindly.
    She nodded, but her lips began to tremble, and moments later tears rolled down her cheeks. She hid her face, turned to go, but Dave pulled her into his arms. He rubbed her back tenderly. Whispered into her ear. She made some soft reply. I strained to hear, wishing my enhanced Sensitivity involved audio. It didn’t. I’d just have to worm the information out of Cassandra the old-fashioned way.
    I looked around the truck, gauging reactions to the chick flick. Most of the guys had decided to pretend it wasn’t happening. Adela flicked another warding gesture at Cassandra. How original. And Amazon Grace looked thunderously pissed. Only Cam and Natchez exchanged grins.
    Vayl bent toward me to murmur, “Amazing, is it not?”
    “What?”
    “How effortlessly some slip into love.”
    I snorted. “I’d hardly call it that,” I whispered, trying to keep the sibilance out of my voice. I didn’t want him to know his comment pissed me off. “They’ve