by Faith Hunter
Alex, sitting at the main comms station, said, “Dovic is legendary in vamp sword fights. He always fights to the death, no first-blood matches, no tourneys. He’s an all-or-nothing kinda guy.” He pointed overhead. “Watch.”
On the center overhead screen, I watched Dovic fight. Though there were multiple duels, watching them didn’t take long. Each ended with Dovic’s opponent beheaded in record time. The longest duel was forty seconds. His use and competency with a multitude of weapons was impressive, the fights I viewed involved: two flat Spanish dueling swords (one short, one long), three different weights of cutlasses, axes, hatchets, a dueling pistol and a sword brandished together, a ball-peen hammer and a switchblade, a dull pencil and a butcher knife, and a silver vamp-killer and fillet knife. No matter what weapon or combo of weapons was chosen by his opponent, he won. Even for a vamp, he was freaky fast.
Dovic was blond, blue-eyed, and scarred, including a deep, puckered scar from his right eye, across his cheek, to his chin, which meant he had fought when he was human too. As I watched the matches, I also watched Koun, sitting on the far side of the large conference table, a delicate cup of tea at his elbow, both hands slowly and lovingly cleaning his swords. They were the kind of dueling swords used in the Mithran version of the Spanish sword fighting method known as La Destreza Verdadera, also known as the Spanish Circle, or the cage of death.
I had seen Koun fight in the Mithran La Destreza technique. He was beautiful in motion. But Dovic was fast, intent, and purposeful. And his current master had an amulet that might make his scions even faster. I wanted to say, Stop this. You can’t do this. But there was no stopping it. And my fighting was sloppy at best, incompetent at my worst, and I was mortal. And my life meant the lives of too many others. So I couldn’t take over.
Koun wasn’t naked, the way he usually fought. And he wasn’t wearing the black armor I had seen him fight in. He was armored in the latest version of Dyneema, Kevlar, and a layer of anti-magic-spelled cloth to deflect spells and spelled weapons. His armor was nearly white, swirled with shimmering, crystalline blue in the same shapes as his blue Celtic tattoos, as brilliant as the pale crystal of his eyes. Magic moved through the tat shapes, powerful energies. He looked spectacular, frozen, like a glacier. Only his hands and his head from earlobes up were uncovered. His blond hair was pulled back into a fighting queue. As if he knew I was watching him, he smiled slightly.
Returning to the screen, I said, “Show me the La Destreza ones again. Quarter speed.”
Alex said, “Yes, My Queen.” The scenes moved across the screen, one at a time, the endings all the same. Death.
“Eighth speed,” I said.
Eli tapped his earbud, slipped away from his chair, and out the door. I watched him go and returned my attention to the overheads.
The scenes played out again, and this time I caught it. Dovic had a tell. Calmly I said, “The left elbow.”
“Your eye has improved. And yes. Always, My Queen,” Koun said. “Every single time. I tried to teach him better.”
I blinked. Better? “You were Dovic’s teacher?”
“For many years. He was an exemplary pupil, faster than any Mithran or Naturaleza I ever fought. Faster than I am by far.”
“So him being here, the two of you fighting. Is what,” I said, part question, part demand.
Without looking up, Koun said, “The sad end to Dovic’s hubris. I shall claim his swords and his land when I take his head. Fighting your battles has been profitable.” Koun lifted a square of chamois and polished his short blade. “Your kind gift of armor is much appreciated.”
I frowned and looked around the room. No one was looking at me. I had a feeling I had missed something. Then it hit me. When I was Leo’s Enforcer, my armor had been supplied to me as part of my payment. That meant that I was—or should have been—providing Koun, my chief strategist, with all the high-tech armor and weapons at my disposal. I said, “You’re my warrior. There’s more where that came from.”
The door behind me opened, and Eli entered. He dropped to one knee, holding up a small box, his eyes meeting mine, full of demand. “Forgive me, My Queen. I forgot to retrieve your favor. For your warrior.”
I took the box, which was lightweight wood, carved all over in geometric designs. I opened it to see a lace-edged scrap from my closet upstairs. My first thought was that he’d brought me a pair of the fancy panties, but I held in my nervous, shocked laugh and lifted it out. Eli looked from my face to the hanky, kissed his own fingers, and looked at Koun. I put it all together. Fights and tourneys, ancient ways, and the favor bestowed on a warrior who was fighting for his queen. Right. Crap. I had forgotten that I was supposed to be using all the formal vamp war etiquette too. Koun wasn’t a modern-day European, but he had fought through all the centuries since he was turned. He would understand and expect this kind of stuff, and I never remembered to do it.
Drawing on all my fancy vamp court talk, figuring what I might say, I stood and walked around the table to Koun. “My warrior and executioner.” I stuck a hand into my pocket and pulled out one of the small throwing blades strapped to my thigh. I pricked my finger with its tip and a tiny bead of blood rose to the surface of my skin.
Koun went still, his hands cradling the polishing cloth and sword.
I wiped the blood onto the pale pink hanky, staining it permanently. “In you I am well pleased,” I said. I kissed the hanky and extended it.
Koun breathed in the scent of my blood. Raised his eyes from the hanky, meeting mine. He slid from the chair to both knees, head bowed. The chamois had vanished, and his hand was bare as he raised an empty palm. “My Queen.”
I placed the hanky into his palm. “Be safe. I’ll pray for you.” I stopped. “And I’ll pray for your soul.”
His eyes jerked to mine. His entire body shuddered. “My Queen?”
“I don’t believe your soul is gone. No matter what you may have seen once upon a time.” No. It wasn’t gone. It was stored somewhere. Like in a pocket universe, the kind the Glob stored energy in.
Tears filled Koun’s pale eyes, making them glisten. He whispered, “My Queen.” He kissed the hanky and tucked it inside his armor over his heart.
Behind us, both doors opened, creating a wide gap. Eli pulled two weapons and aimed there. Leo stood in the opening, unarmed, dressed in black, his hands clasped in front of him. Brute, the white werewolf stood at his leg. Something like joy passed through me but was quickly gone. Replaced by a frisson of fear. Was he here to challenge me for his city?
“Hold your positions,” Eli said to the security teams on comms. The room went silent. “Alex?”
Alex said softly into his mic, “No sign until now.”
That meant Leo had gotten inside without anyone knowing. I had a feeling that Brute had brought him, timewalking.
Alex added, “No weapons. No scions. Not here to take over.”
Leo said, “I do not wish to retake this city. Such responsibilities are no longer mine. I am here to say one thing.”
Slowly, Eli lowered his weapons, but he didn’t holster them.
Koun studied the former master of the city but made no move to go to Leo or to bow to him. He didn’t lift his sword either. He just waited, breathing in Leo’s scent as if it told him something important.
Leo looked at me. “I am not here to take part in or interfere in the events that may unfold tonight. Such is not my place. But if you need me, you may call. Well done, Jane Yellowrock. Well done.”
He placed one hand on the werewolf’s head. Light, brilliant, in the shape of a cat’s eye, burst out. And they were gone.
“Ooookaaay,” I said slowly. “Brute is Leo’s . . . transporter.”
“No sign of them anywhere,” Alex said. “No alarms, no monitors triggered.”
Eli holstered two weapons. He was armored, which I hadn’t noted until now. He glance
d at Alex. “If you got that on vid, send it out on the V-web.”
I didn’t know what that was, but I could wait for info later. “Join me for tea?” I asked Eli. “We need to go over the security for the duello.”
“I am honored,” Eli said, his dark eyes twinkling. “Thank you. My Queen.” Together we left the room. As the door closed, I thunked his head. His laughter echoing down the hallway was the best thing I’d heard all day. “Babe,” he said, “Leo didn’t kill us. And he’s right. You did good.”
* * *
* * *
The original form of La Destreza was different from the vamp version. Vamps had added from other longsword fighting systems, calling it the cage of death. They used two swords, usually one long, one shorter; their armor, when they used it, was no longer the original stuff worn in Spain but was updated. And in real combat, they never covered their faces. Matches took place in a fighting circle, and the goal of this one was to wound one’s opponent so horribly that taking a head was an easy feat. But I didn’t want my enemies inside HQ, so the parley had determined the duello would take place elsewhere, and no one had told me the final location. Which was Yellowrock Clan Home.
I hadn’t been to the official clan residence in ages. I was pretty sure that the last time I was there was the day I shot Derek. Who was now dead.
The memories of his death slammed into me as we drove up. Memories of his body—scorched by lightning, his throat torn out, lying on the street—cut my soul. Silent, I left the vehicle and entered the front door.
Walking into the house was painful. Even though it had been totally redecorated in white and grays and looked nothing like the original, I could still see Derek fall. My fault. Just like his death. He had been healed that first time and healed all the times after, but not this last. His funeral was in two days. Being my friend was deadly.
“You weren’t responsible for his death,” Eli said softly, reading my mind.
From behind me, Thema said, “The long-lived lose our people one by one. Grief burrows and plows into our souls until there is nothing within us except that anguish.”
I turned from the place where Derek had fallen and looked at her. Really looked at her. She was tall and whip thin, with very black skin for an old vamp. Tonight she wore silver in her ears, around her wrists, and on her fingers, a show of power few vamps could match. Her hair was cut close to her skull, and she was wearing white armor, two steel swords, and a number of modern weapons holstered here and there. She looked deadly. She also looked full of sorrow. Kojo stood behind her dressed in all black, his eyes on me.
“That’s why you don’t want blood-servants of your own, isn’t it?” I asked them, the certainty creeping through me. “Even the longest-lived servants are dead at three hundred years.”
“Yes,” Thema said softly. “Our blood is potent. We easily bind humans. They do not wish to ever be far from us. It is difficult to be a Blood Master to such dependent beings.”
“You and Kojo can stay as long as you like, without taking blood-servants. But you have to contribute. This offer is contingent upon you working with Florence, in her position as Infermieri, to heal all grievously injured humans and vampires sworn to me and to mine. If you agree, I’ll make certain that blood meals are provided for you without you having to make them blood-servants.”
Thema turned vamp-black eyes to me. “You are always a surprise, My Queen.”
“Flying by the seat of my pants kinda does that. Is that a yes?”
Kojo looked at Thema, who nodded. “Yes,” she said. Kojo looked away. I wasn’t sure if he agreed or not, and didn’t really care right now.
I glanced at Eli. “We’ll be getting some heavily bound and isolated humans soon. They cared for some crazy vamps in isolation for way too long, and they smoked way too much weed. Once they’ve been dried out and reintroduced to modern life, make sure they feed a few times from Kojo and Thema and Florence.” I looked at the vamps. “The damaged blood-servants and vamps can be test cases.”
“Thank you, My Queen,” Thema said.
Eli dropped his chin a fraction of an inch in what counted as agreement for him.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s tour the house.”
It was very different. The decor was now shades of white, shades of gray, and dull gold, with brushed brass pulls on cabinets and doorknobs, brushed brass light fixtures. Thankfully the brass had been used sparingly, because I hated it on sight. Too glitzy. But as a place for events, it would do. I got the grand tour, from the formal rooms and the dueling site on the ground floor to the bedrooms on the upper floor and in the attic. It was functional, if a little cold feeling. And empty. The few vamps who had been living here had found other places to be tonight. I couldn’t say I blamed them.
The bedroom that was set aside for me was much more to my taste, done up in shades of warm gray and hints of green. I checked the closets, and sure enough, I had clothes hanging there. Madame Melisende and Quint had been busy. More importantly, there was a set of armor here too. This set was basic black cloth, not leather covered, and it had gold layering around the waist, wrists, and neckline. It looked like something I might wear for formal occasions. It was dang spiffy. I pulled it out and ran my hand over the fabric.
“You would look good in that,” Eli said, “especially walking down the stairs after our guests arrive, nice and slow, weaponed up like you intend to go to war. Want to change? Quint is here somewhere, checking out the security measures, determining the potential points of egress should she need to remove you. She can help.”
I held the armor up to me and turned, spotting a mirror on a stand in the corner. I walked over and looked at myself with the armor. Yeah. I’d look fantastic in this. Especially if I was half-form. I had been human for over six hours, so I should be able to shift easily and soon. “You like Quint?” I asked Eli.
“No. But she’s never broken a contract. She has a reputation to uphold and a contract for five years. Protecting the Dark Queen, keeping you alive, means she can offer her services to anyone at any price she wants when her contract is over. And Quesnel lives at HQ. If Quint is capable of loving anyone, it’s him. They play chess and cards, and to all appearances, she dotes on him.”
“Mmm. Send Quint and food up in about fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, I’ll try to shift into half-form. And send someone back to the house for my black combat boots. And make sure that Quesnel knows he can order anything he wants for his cellars. Let’s keep him happy.”
“Covering your bases.” Eli touched his headset and called for food, Quint, and my weapons as he went out the door, closing it behind him. I stripped and removed the few weapons I had planned to carry. I’d want everything I had for this to work.
* * *
* * *
Nearly an hour later, I looked in the slim mirror at my half-form in uniform. This armor took badassery to entirely new heights. The red-gripped nine-mils in the black shoulder holster were reminders of blood. The gold on the armor matched the gold gorget. And the crown of silver stakes would glimmer perfectly above the gold of le breloque.
Quint handed me a headset and said, “I approve. Your guests have arrived. The duello will take place at midnight.”
I put on the headset and adjusted the weapons. Quint made more adjustments until everything was prefect.
“When will Shaun MacLaughlinn arrive?”
“Oddly, he will not be present.”
I looked across the room, not really seeing it. Shaun not coming made no sense. This whole duello had been orchestrated by him to take over my clan and my city. Of course, the original backstabbing plan had included Ka, Monique, and Granny as part of the attack at HQ and at my house, and maybe an attack during the Sangre Duello, in total violation of parley agreements. Maybe Shaun was backpedaling to Plan B. I tapped the headset to the private channel and said, “Alex. Eli. Shaun MacLaughlinn isn’t coming?�
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“Negative,” they both said. Eli added, “Odds are he’ll show up late and make a scene, but since no one has spotted him in NOLA in the last few nights, we aren’t taking chances.”
Meaning that Shaun might have lured us here and kept us busy while he attacked us on other fronts. It was a very vampy thing to do. “Precautions?”
“Your people are as safe as we can make them. Ayatas is working in a semiofficial PsyLED capacity with the Roberes, going over the legal papers, and dealing with the governor and the local law enforcement. Earlier today, I sent a team to gather the Everharts into a safehouse and provide protection in the mountains. Liz assures me they have a hedge of thorns up around their location and that Shaddock has guards around the perimeter. All security features are up and running at the inn and grounds, and a team is covering it. HQ is locked down with arcenciels patrolling. They seem to be having fun tossing a rotting head in the backyard like a ball game. We have a team patrolling the block around the witches’ null prison. All the clan leaders have their lairs heavily guarded. I also sent a squad to the vamp cemetery. The excavation team found some interesting amulets, and they needed protection getting them back to HQ. Our house is under lockdown.”
As he talked, I broke out into a cold sweat. That was a lot of places and people who were depending on me to survive the night and kill the Big Bad. But so far, Shaun MacLaughlinn hadn’t shown up to his own challenge. He was doing something else, and my people had already figured that out, but they were stretched thin. My friends were in danger again. “Okay. Thanks.”
Eli said, “Dovic has arrived. His people are inspecting the arena.”
The arena was the main room at the bottom of the stairs. The furniture had been moved against the walls, and a rubberized fighting mat had already been in place when I took the house tour. I also remembered a huge TV screen on one wall. Ugly thing. Big enough to watch films on.
“How many?”