Free Bite Marks by Jennifer Rardin Page A

keeping score. Other creatures might push them around, but demons couldn’t seem to solve the gnomes’ code. A lot of people had studied their defenses and weaponry trying to figure out why, including yours truly. My theory—faith.
    Gnomes believed . Even the fanatics—who performed appalling actions in the name of a god whose name translated as “peace”—even they remained demon-immune. I figured this had to be due to their unshakable convictions. And that makes for slim pickings when you have to fill a monthly quota. So the last place Kyphas would look for Cassandra would be in an Ufranite warren.
    A thought hit me. I tucked it away before Brude could see it.
    “Are we in agreement then?” Vayl asked.
    I nodded. “Maybe the prisoners have heard something that could help us identify all the carriers,” I said for Brude’s benefit.
    “We have other means,” Vayl reminded me.
    “Yeah, but this way we get to… you know.” I smiled. So did he.
    Bergman held up a finger. “Hang on, you just made a big leap there. What did I miss?” I clapped him on the back. “Probably better for you just to find out as you go.” I turned back to Vayl, who was studying the brilliantly disguised gnome door.
    “You’re not thinking of diving in or anything, are you?” Bergman asked. He gestured at the fake wall.
    “We don’t even know what’s on the other side.”
    Ignoring Bergman’s observation, Vayl said, “Jasmine, tell me. If you had built an access door, the better to reach Odeam’s traitor, why would you choose this particular location?” I shrugged. “Lots of fake concrete just going to waste in the corner?” He blew his breath out his nose. “Hardly. Where is your mind today?”
    “Seriously? After flying forever, fighting a demon, not to mention the Domytr snapping up my synapses, you have to ask?”
    “You could at least try.”
    Shit. I looked around. “I don’t know, okay? The basement door is the only way in where they wouldn’t be seen, and it’s obviously solid as a—” I kicked at the door as I said, “brick.” But my heel didn’t contact wood, sending a shiver up the bone of my leg as expected. Instead it shoved completely through.
    Because the gnomes had pulled off another illusion.
    The original door had been removed and replaced by Paint plants. Those wizards of horticulture had created this ivy sometime in the sixteenth century. And since then all they’d done was improve it to the point that it came in every known color, its needlelike leaves laying so flat they were easily confused with the grain of wood. As shown by the door, it could be grown quickly and trained into any position, so even up close it resembled whatever the gardener desired.
    I pulled my foot out. Big, noticeable dent, though I could already see leaves unbending. Funky.

    “You know, someday you’re going to throw a kick like that and something’s going to bite your foot off,” Bergman said.
    “Could be,” I replied. “Or maybe I’ll knock something out before it has a chance to eat my face off.”
    “Save the debate for later,” Vayl said. “They should have left a panel for ingress and egress. Jasmine, please check.”
    “Sure.” I let loose with another kick, this one at about knee height. A door big enough for Jack to jump through popped open. I looked over my shoulder at Vayl.
    “You guard the rear,” he said. “We must keep Cassandra and Bergman between us at all times.” So that if one of us is wounded , his eyes added, they will at least stand a chance of escaping.
    I nodded and drew my Walther PPK. As always, Bergman smiled when he saw it. He was the one who’d engineered it to transform into a crossbow, so I understood the pride in his eyes. But when the quick grin disappeared, I knew he’d just realized why I might need it.
    Our reconnaissance took ten minutes. The basement had been emptied when the school was closed, and the Space Station hadn’t yet filled it. Up top, the