True Dead

by Faith Hunter

  “Ah, man,” I murmured. Two amulets constructed with arcenciel blood in NOLA at the same time. Coincidence wasn’t possible.

  Alex turned just his head and looked at me from under his too-long spiraling curls. “Yeah, right? Continuing the timeline, fitting the Firestarter into it.”

  He pointed at the final screen and a bit of security footage, froze it, and pointed at the still shot on the screen. I recognized the brick wall at the side of HQ. Once upon a time, there was a not-so-secret access point in the brick that led to Leo’s office. It was now sealed from the inside, but the small group of people shown gathered there hadn’t known that.

  “During the attack on HQ, Shaun”—he touched the screen, showing me the vamp—“who is running around not wearing a shirt, presumably to show off the amulet on his arm, was trying to get inside. I’m guessing that this”—he pointed to the other vamps—“is his primo or secondo, and his best fighters. And here”—he pressed a button, and another view took its place—“is where the Firestarter finished her attack in back and joined up with Shaun.”

  “The Firestarter hates vamps,” I said, remembering the bound beings in Monique’s soul home. I searched the screen. Ka wasn’t there.

  “The enemy of my enemy is my short-term friend?” Alex asked. “They seem to be working together, for now, since she was part of the attack that had been intended to draw off your forces front and back while he gained access from inside.”

  “Well, that sucks,” I said.

  “Good Lord, woman,” a female voice said from the door. “You look like death warmed over and twice as furry.”

  I looked from the screen to the door and smiled, happiness filling me all over. “Jodi.”

  “Don’t you go getting all nice-nice on me. I hear you let my wedding site get blown to smithereens.”

  “Sorry,” I said, seeing by her expression that she wasn’t really mad at me. Well, she was, but it was a different version of mad from all my male subjects’ mad. “I need to use the ladies,” I said. “All you menfolk, go down to security and update the crews. Jodi, will you stay?”

  “Stay and what? Help you pee? God help me, the things I get stuck doing for you. Out,” she said to the vamps and humans and Onorio. “Get out.” When no one moved she said, “I may be wearing exercise clothes, but I am never unarmed. Don’t make me shoot you. The lady needs a little privacy.”

  “The lady,” Tex said, pointedly, “was just shot to hell and back, ma’am. If you spot bleeding, we’d be appreciative of you bringing one of her Mithrans back in to finish up healing her. Koun and I’ll be outside the door.” He wasn’t wearing a hat indoors, but he touched his forehead as if tipping one anyway. I could feel Bruiser’s and Eli’s eyes on me, but I took refuge in Jodi and pretended not to know they were still really peeved.

  When it was just Jodi and me and the door was shut on menfolk, she yanked the sheets off of me and shoved me to my feet. Pain shot through me, and I was suddenly too weak to care that I was naked. I nearly fell, and short, rounded Jodi caught me. I was also too exhausted to care that she got dried blood all over her exercise clothes. By the smell: sweaty exercise clothes. She hadn’t been working at the cop shop when she got called in. That was probably my fault. She started me walking toward the en suite.

  “You do know that the fire department and the eighth district all got called out because of gunfire and fire-fire tonight, right?”

  “I’m not surprised,” I whispered.

  “And we’re still all out there, waiting on a stand-down order, which no one will give us because of the political ramifications if this turns out to be important on a State Department level.”

  “Sorry,” I breathed, wondering why I could apologize to Jodi and not my people.

  “Are you the only one dead?” she asked.

  I tried to laugh, but it hurt too much as she eased me down onto the closed toilet lid. “No. We were attacked, and there are a number of attacking humans and vamps dead.”

  “Any of your people?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Dread drenched me like a cold flood.

  “How many attacked?”

  “One in back.” I started to tell her about the Firestarter but changed my mind. “With an incendiary device. I think six in front.”

  “How many were humans?”

  I realized that Jodi had been interrogating me, which made me tired and a little sad. “Stop asking questions, Jodi. Pretty sure this is Dark Queen stuff. If there’s questioning to be done, the State Department can send someone to do it.”

  “Are you calling diplomatic immunity on this? ’Cause if you do, that makes it a lot easier on us.”

  So maybe she wanted an excuse to not ask me stuff? That hadn’t occurred to me. “They called you in tonight to ask me that?”

  “Yes,” she said sourly. “Thanks to you, I’m the official liaison to the fangheads in this city. I got a promotion and a raise and everything.” The last sentence was even more sour, nearly bitter. I figured that was because she had gotten the promotion not by skill but because she knew me. That had to rankle. She turned away and started the shower on hot.

  “In you go,” she said, pulling me to my feet. Which hurt a lot. But there was a seat in the shower, and I managed to get onto it before I passed out. Leo had a very swanky bathroom with a huge tub in the far corner big enough to fit three or four, which I remember very well from the one time I walked in on Leo, Katie, and Blondie lounging in it.

  Jodi placed a bottle of water into my knobby, long-fingered hand, and said, “Drink. I’m getting you something to wear from that enormous closet. Don’t die while I’m not in here babying you.”

  Babying me. Right. I slumped against the tile. Which was heated. Holy crap, that felt good. Water pounded, trickled, and steamed. I started to feel warm again and tilted up the bottle of water, draining it before my eyes could close. Because no way was I not following Jodi’s orders. Jodi had always kinda scared me, if I was honest with myself.

  Bottle empty, I looked down at the white Carrara marble and saw that fresh blood was dribbling slowly out of my abdomen. Something had opened up. That couldn’t be good.

  “Jodi,” I whispered. “Help.”

  CHAPTER 11

  I’m Not Fond of the Pelt. It Itches.

  I had no idea Jodi had such good hearing, but she was in the shower with me before the plea for help finished echoing around the vast bathroom. I also hadn’t known she could be the motherly type, as she turned off the water, wrapped me in a towel, and shouted for Tex and Koun. My two vamps placed me on the floor of the shower and joined me there, healing me, which involved a lot more furry and bare skin than I wanted to show and me drinking a lot more of Koun’s meaty blood.

  Jodi waited on the guys to finish healing me and then shooed them back out. She helped me shower, helped me into silk undies and a tunic and leggings created by Madame Melisende, a casual outfit that was soft and slightly brushed for warmth on the inside and sleek on the outside. And because it was handmade for my multiple body shapes, it adjusted to fit like a glove. In the drawer of Leo’s bathroom—my bathroom now, I guessed—was a tube of red lipstick in one of my usual bloodred shades. I dabbed a little onto my pale cheeks and smeared it around, then lined my lips. Jodi combed out my hair, which had gotten terribly tangled.

  “You want me to braid it?” She asked.

  “No, thank you,” I said. “I’ll take care of it later.”

  “Are you going to fix my wedding site?”

  “If it can’t be fixed, I happen to own a mansion you can use. Will that do?”

  “Yellowrock Clan Home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’ll do. But I have new rules.” She put the lipstick and the comb away. “No uninvited vampires crashing the wedding or the reception. No undead mayhem. No hot and cold running revenants. No were-creatures at all, w
ith the exception of Brute and Rick, if he can get away from the case he’s working on, which doesn’t look likely.” Rick, her old partner and my former boyfriend, had been invited. “I’ll be annoyed if you paranormal psychos ruin my wedding. And you don’t want me annoyed.”

  I met her eyes in the mirror over the sinks and realized that this had to be a new addition since Leo died. Vamps never had mirrors. In the reflection, I could see how happy and afraid Jodi was.

  Sudden tears gathered in her blue eyes, and she said, “Some people are only ever allowed one chance at happiness. And Homer will die working for you. He’ll stand up and take a bullet. And die. For you.”

  Softly I said, “Wrassler doesn’t know it, but he’s about to be promoted to administrator of security at HQ. Eli already has the paperwork done. It’s a desk job, Jodi, with an increase in salary and lots of power and pomp and circumstance. It was going to be my wedding present to y’all.” Among other things. I’d had it all planned out. It was to be a surprise, but I didn’t mind telling her. She needed it now.

  Tears spilled out over her lids, and I realized she had panicked when she’d heard about gunfire at HQ. “So who will be taking care of you when you’re here?”

  “Derek will be head of my various security details, including protection at the clan home, my personal home, and all my NOLA traveling. Eli and Alex will continue to be my personal security elsewhere, as well as my partners in everything else. Koun and Tex will take over bodyguard detail. It’s been planned for weeks.”

  She threw her arms around me. The top of her head came to my shoulder. Awkwardly, I patted her back with one hand. I so sucked at hugs.

  “I hate you,” she said.

  “For making you cry?”

  “For not telling me sooner.” She sniffed, shoved her bobbed hair back, and wiped her eyes. The tears made them even bluer. “And for having all those gorgeous clothes. There must be twenty creations in your walk-in closet.”

  “You know I prefer jeans and a tee or a sweater, right?”

  She laughed through her tears. “And you look fabulous in everything. Except for the fur.” She touched the pelt where my neck and shoulder met. “That would make me nuts.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m not fond of the pelt. It itches.”

  She laughed some more, the teary kind of laughter. “And probably attracts fleas.”

  “Don’t be mean,” I said, a smile on my face and in my voice.

  “I’m too sweet to be mean,” she lied. “Let me call this in, and we can take a look at my wedding site.”

  I remembered seeing the fireball crashing through. And the sprinkler system coming on. It had to be horrible. “Do we hafta?”

  “Yeah. Come on. “She hooked her arm through mine and led me into the hallway and through the line of assembled humans and vamps, all of whom looked unhappy, sad, or angry, and all staring at me. “And by the way,” she said when we had passed the last one, “why were your people so bitchy when I got here?”

  “Oh. That. Ummm. The blood in the shower? I got shot and sorta nearly died. I’m not supposed to die. I’m supposed to shift before I die.”

  Something hit me, hard and fast. My father had died. Midshift, he had died. Maybe all skinwalkers can die if they don’t shift in time. Maybe, when I was healed in the rift, I lost my special ability to shift back faster than death could take me. That would suck. And since my DNA had been affected, it would make total sense. If vamps hadn’t been close by, I’d be dead right now. Silent, I followed Jodi through HQ to the ballroom. She walked slowly, which was good, because dying can take a lot out of a girl. I was quickly winded.

  The ballroom looked worse than I expected. The stained glass had been shoved to the side in a wet, multicolored pile. There were scorch marks on all the columns and a big scorched area on the floor. The row of tables were burned, leaving only metal frames, the tops blackened crisps. The ballroom stank like chemicals and smoke and, oddly, burned hair.

  Jodi said nothing. She put her hands on her hips, shoving back the exercise jacket, thrusting her boobs forward. Jodi was one of the most hourglass-shaped women I knew, but when she assumed what I thought of as her cop stance, she didn’t look petite or rounded or bosomy. She just looked mean. But at least she was dry-eyed and not teary anymore.

  There were four uniformed staff with shop vacs and rug cleaners drawing up the black water. More staff were stripping off the unburned linens from most of the chairs to send them out for cleaning. Others were removing the ruined tables and carrying them outside into the night.

  I looked up, expecting to see the worst, yet the ceiling wasn’t as bad as I had assumed. Only one of the arches had been broken in, only one of the stained glass “windows” had been busted. Still. There was no way to repair the roof by the time of the wedding.

  Wrassler entered behind us and wrapped Jodi in his arms. Size-wise, they looked like a silverback gorilla hugging a baby chimp. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he murmured into her hair.

  “We’re moving the ceremony and party to the Yellowrock Clan Home,” she said, steely voiced and way too calm. “We need someone to contact all the guests and let them know.”

  “My people can do that,” I said.

  “Yeah. They can. And they better.” She transferred those sweet blue eyes to me, and I nearly took a step back. “And the clan home better look like a million dollars. And the fangheads are reimbursing the caterer and the bridal supply shop for everything the fire destroyed.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  “Or,” Wrassler said, “we can get the hole covered with a piece of plywood and get the NOLA coven to glamour the missing stained glass.”

  “Oh,” Jodi said. She looked up at the ceiling and frowned. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  She should have thought of it right away, because Jodi came from a witch family.

  “That’s perfect,” she said. “And Jane can pay for it.”

  “I can do that,” I said. To Wrassler, I added, “Spare no expense, and get every caterer and flower shop in town working to get the place up to speed. It needs to be perfect.” I turned to Jodi and said, “Whatever the coven charges. Ernestine will write a blank check.”

  “Done,” Jodi said. She made a snorting sound and turned in Wrassler’s arms. They stood there for what felt like hours but was likely only half a minute. Then Jodi patted his big arm to let him know he could let go, and she walked from the room. Over her shoulder she said, “I’ll tell the officials this is now a diplomatic situation. Get the Robere’s on it.” With that, she was gone.

  Fortunately, Brandon and Brian were now in town for the wedding, and though I hated to ruin what was supposed to be a festive vacation, Jodi was right. They were the best men for the job. I blew out a breath that sorta whistled.

  Wrassler chuckled, but it was a sad sound, as he looked around the room. He shook his head. “You have subjects you need to meet.”

  Subjects. I hated that word, now equating it with blood-servants, people who owed me something and who I had to protect. I wanted to say no, but I figured this fiasco was totally my fault, so I just nodded and let him lead the way back to a main-floor tea room, my big paw-feet silent on the flooring. “Any news from the vamp graveyard? Any sightings of Sabina or revenants or whatever?”

  “No, My Queen,” Wrassler said softly. “No reports of drained humans. No reports of Mithrans being attacked.”

  “Okay. Keep me informed, please.”

  “I will.”

  The room we stopped at was a tiny reception room, the table in the center set for tea for four. Wrassler sent me in alone. The room was empty, so was the teapot, and I was starving. Bummer. I wondered if the tea service had been set there for show, and if so, why? I had no idea how formal this meeting was, so I took the chair I would have taken had I been greeting dangerous enemies, my spine to the corner, facing
the door. When I sat, my hands were shaking with fatigue. The room was small, I didn’t have a weapon, I was backed into a corner, and I was hungry enough to make me grumpy.

  Beast thought at me, Is like cage. Do not like cages.

  Yeah, I thought back, trying to relax in the fluffy floral chair. Unfortunately the fabric of the clothes, the chair, and my pelt started to work against each other and ride up. And itch. Sometimes I hated my pelt.

  There was a discreet knock, and the door opened, admitting two men and two women, Wrassler behind them. He closed the door and stood there, clearly my security. The other four seemed at a loss until Wrassler cleared his throat and said, “Dark Queen of the Mithrans. May I introduce Dr. Pierre Paquet, who has taken over the vampire funeral home. He and his wife, also Dr. Paquet, became doctors in France in 1939. I will arrange an introduction with Dr. Solange Paquet at a later time.”

  I didn’t offer my hand to the doctor, but I did give a slight, regal head bow. He returned a fast up-and-down nod, but his eyes stayed glued to my cat ears, pointed atop my head. Yeah. I’m a cat. And your queen. I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Your majesty,” he managed, sounding as if he might faint. He dropped to his knees, which made me want to laugh, but no way was I giving in to this hilarity.

  “My Queen, this gentleman”—Wrassler continued to the next man—“is a blood-servant in security, second in line to Ming’s Cai. They call him Long-Knife. He has been sent to us on loan from the Master of the City of Knoxville as assistance to track the Firestarter.” There was something in his tone that said the man was more or less than just a gift. Either a prize or a troublemaker. Knowing Ming, I figured she had sent me a troublemaker. He had long dark hair, a wiry build, and eyes that might have come from the Steppes of Russia. He was also trying to hide a bad case of belligerence, which I decided to poke a bit.