by Faith Hunter
“All kinds of news,” Alex said. “I was able to get the four-star Regal Imperial Hotel in Asheville for the visiting fangheads, though after the last vamp stay, the general manager put up a fuss.” The last time fangheads had rented out the hotel, they pretty much trashed the place and I had killed a demon out front, an event that went viral, even if most people didn’t believe what they saw. “Money talked,” Alex added. “It was pricey. And even more pricey to give all their people time off. We paid vacation time for thirty-five full-time employees to keep them safe from the Flayer.”
“Good thinking. How pricey?” I asked.
“You don’t want to know, but not to worry. Rather than draining Clan Yellowrock’s funds, I used the Dark Queen’s accounts.”
“The DQ has accounts?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Alex laughed, the sound more like pain than amusement. “The DQ is loaded.”
“Good for her,” I said. “What else you got?”
“Shaddock looped in Sheriff Grizzard and the Asheville chief of police,” Alex said. “None are happy about the situation, not that they could do anything about it except call in PsyLED, ICE, and the state police. But the snowstorm’s going to inhibit and slow any official response. The bad guys will be here before the bureaucracies can decide what to do.”
“Before you begin to feel guilty, love,” Bruiser said, “there would have been problems no matter where Bar-Judas chose to approach you. He is here illegally. He will kill any human he chooses. You made the best decision you could.”
“They could evacuate the city,” I suggested.
“Impractical in this storm.”
“Put out an alert?”
“Likely to stir panic.”
“Surround the hotel?”
“Possible. But their choice, not ours. They have been informed of potential problems.”
Alex broke into Bruiser’s and my dialogue. “I confirmed which of our supposed allies in France sold Ed out. Clan Roquefort agreed to parley. Clan Fonteneau, one of Grégoire’s longtime allies, set Ed up at one of their houses about twenty miles from the agreed-upon parley site. Roquefort found out where they were staying and attacked that location. Looks like Roquefort, Shimon Bar-Judas, his people, and two other clans—Clan Andre and Clan Leclerc—were in on it. Clan Fonteneau fought back, defending the farmhouse, and they may well be extinct, dead to the last scion. Grégoire and his court are finding our people and making sure they have flights back to the U.S. or are safe in situ. He’s also taking names, tracking enemy combatants, and finding their lairs. I’m getting into their finances and forwarding him all the intel.”
Alex tilted his head down and around and met my eyes. “As of an hour past, Grégoire has announced an open call to arms for his new allies and an open blood feud against your enemies. His primos sent a note to the DQ and the empress of Europe with his intent to kill her enemies to the last drop of blood.”
Clan Roquefort and I had a history. They had sent vamps to swear to Leo and marry his heir. And betray the MOC. I had prevented that, and the traitors sent from the clan were dead. Leo had done nothing to the clan in retribution for the original betrayal or the subsequent ones. No, that was all on me. Clan Roquefort was a problem I needed to handle. “Let Blondie know everything we know. Keep him in the loop. Tell him the EuroVamp traitors are to be . . .” I stopped, thinking over my words before I spoke them. Making sure I was really willing to say them aloud. Thinking over the repercussions if I did say them. The repercussions if I said something else or remained silent. Seeing the possible futures and the altered pasts in raindrops had taught me some things. Think, at least a little, before speaking.
I turned to Bruiser but spoke to Alex. Softer, with all the formality I had learned and all the ceremonial words in my vocabulary, I said, “Tell Grégoire, ‘So speaks the Dark Queen. My dear old friend Grégoire of Arceneau. We are honored at the loyalty you have displayed. We would award your devotion and appoint you Warlord of the Dark Queen.’”
CHAPTER 5
I Had to Apologize to a Werewolf
Bruiser blinked, his eyes taking on a sheen of memory, as if he searched his past for references and could find none. A faint smiled turned up his lips and he gave me a nod of surprised approval.
I went on. “Our enemies will be made an example. Mithran traitors and betrayers, Naturaleza, killers of humans, and murderers of my people are to be given no quarter. The clan homes of our enemies are to become scorched earth. Any who do not swear to you in my name, any enemy clan Blood Masters and all their master Mithrans, no matter their status, will die. The only quarter given will be to the youngest scions still in chains, the prisoners of our enemies, and the human blood-servants and blood-slaves, provided that they agree to be bled, read, and bound. Those are yours to judge.” I closed my eyes, knowing I had just sentenced dozens and dozens of vamps to death. No wonder Blondie hated to rule. This sucked. “These are the words of the Empress of Europe and the Dark Queen. If you accept, proclamations will go out . . . posthaste.”
Bruiser’s eyes were intensely sad and deeply focused on mine. “As the Dark Queen commands.” He glanced at Alex. “Send the electronic message to Grégoire of Clan Arceneau and associated titles. If he agrees, you’ll need to draw up the papers and have them approved by the Robere brothers.”
The Roberes were both Onorios and one was a lawyer, making them dispassionate judges of vamp protocol. They were also Grégoire’s people. It was a good safety measure. I nodded to Bruiser.
“The proclamations will then need to be transcribed to vellum, signed, and go out by messenger as soon as a courier can get through. And this time,” Bruiser said to us all, “there will be no doubt. Multiple copies will be sent to every Blood Master and MOC in the Americas, Europe, and Asia.”
Alex muttered, “It sounds like war.”
His voice so soft I could hear the crackle of flames from the fireplace over his words, Bruiser said, “It is war. Jane’s proclamation may decrease the numbers of casualties, and it gives those currently nonaligned a political and diplomatic pathway to peace with the Dark Queen.” He lifted my hand and brushed his lips over my knuckles. “It’s brilliant, my love.”
“This sucks,” Alex said. “Not the paperwork. War in general.”
I glanced at the small clock on the mantel. It was far past midnight. “I’m going to shift to Beast,” I said, “but I’d like to sleep inside.”
Bruiser smiled wider, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. “I’ll pull the queen’s doggy bed onto the mattress.”
Alex made a snorting sound at the doggy-bed comment. I ignored it. “Alex, please wake me when Shaddock’s people turn into the drive. I’d like to—” receive them properly. I was still thinking and talking like the DQ. “I’d like to have feet instead of paws when they get here.”
“Got it. Night, Janie.”
In our bedroom, I folded my comfy clothes and shifted to Beast. Strength and energy flooded through us. Because my human form was skinny, my Beast form was skinny too, all muscle and no body fat, no reservoirs for between meals or between shifts. I was ravenous. After a meal of raw bison liver and bison loin provided by Bruiser, I/we sprang to the bed, which sported an extra layer of memory foam on my side, one with a washable cover. Beast yawned and stretched, upward-facing cat, downward-facing cat (not dog; never dog), and lay down, jaw on Bruiser’s hand. He scratched under our chin.
Beast thought, Mate. Good mate. Brought dead bison and grooms Beast.
Yeah, I thought back. He’s coolio.
Onorio body is hot like Beast body. Do not understand coolio.
I smiled and didn’t contradict her. We fell asleep knowing we were safe and loved.
* * *
* * *
I slept until the smell of pancake batter and cooking bacon woke Beast and we slipped from the bed, leaving Bruiser sleeping. It was w
ell before dawn and he was tired and sad and the circles beneath his eyes said he needed more sleep than he’d been getting.
We padded down the stairs, into the kitchen, where Beast proved that she could open the refrigerator when she really wanted. Ignoring Eli’s comments about her paw dexterity and the cost of cow when she could hunt deer, Beast sank her fangs into a five-pound roast, wrapped in plastic on a disposable tray, and carried it out the front door, into the dark of predawn and the new, snow-covered world. I stepped back from Beast’s control, thinking thoughts of war, and let Beast have full range of her body to eat, play, hunt, or whatever.
* * *
* * *
Took in world through eyes and nose and ears. Air was still. Wind had blown far away. Without wind to knock drifts off, snow stood more than five inches high on every branch, stem, and twig, rested on top of trellis and fence posts in nearby vineyard. Snow was brilliant, heavy white blanket, soft and sparkling in meager light. Snow had fallen many inches overnight. Many-more-than-five inches.
Beast tossed cow meat, jumped from covered front porch into deep fluff of snow, and rolled to back, looking at sky. It was still cloudy, but thinning haze said there would be no snow for a few hours. Turkey smell came on wind. Sound of hawk calling meant rabbits were out in snow, feeding. Was good time to be Beast. Rolled over and found roast. Tore through plastic and gripped cow meat with claws. Bit dead cow meat with killing teeth and ripped through flesh. Ate. Was good cow meat. Beast was happy.
Went into trees on south side of property to do morning business, spraying, leaving scat. Smelled Brute. Dog stink. Curled nose and chuffed. My place. Left scat on top of Brute scat. Was Beast hunting ground, not Brute hunting ground, and Brute scat and scent were everywhere under trees. Beast took much time to mark every place and to scratch into bark on many more than five trees, sharpening claws and claiming territory.
Then Beast raced around big space, throwing snow with paws. Rolled and scrunched and shoved and scooted in snow, grooming privates. Lay again in snow fluff, paws up, belly up and unprotected. Looked at gray sky. Wolf smell came on wind. Brute snuffled into snow next to Beast. Dropped heavy body and rolled. Lay in snow near Beast, panting, stupid dog tongue hanging out of mouth to side like dead thing. Wanted to bat at tongue with claws, but Brute was more than dog. Brute might be making trap, to catch Beast paw in wolf teeth. Beast was smart ambush hunter. Did not fall for stupid dog trick. Rolled to paws, shaking fluff away. Coat moved on skinny, muscular body, loose and warm.
Brute stood too, panting. Made downward dog to play. Beast leaped over Brute. Swiped at Brute tail and raced to porch. Brute followed. Beast raced through cat door and into house, to kitchen where bacon was cooking and Eli stood in front of stove. Eli was dressed as hunter, as warrior, with armor, killing claws, and white-man weapons. Was dressed in black with a white cloth called apron tied around waist.
Beast brushed by Eli. Eli said, “Hey. I saw you steal that roast. Out of the kitchen. Git!”
Beast ran to big, empty room like cave with tall ceiling, at door to front of house. Brute hip-butted Beast. Both tumbled and fell on slick floor. Wolf gave fake growl and batted Beast. Battle! Battle with Brute! Paws swatted. Fangs grazed through pelt. Grindylow jumped into play fight, steel claws hidden. Beast claws hidden. Brute claws not sharp, but dull and blunt. Grindy biting at snouts and chittering. Played and batted and growled and tumbled across floor as more bacon sizzled and eggs cooked and air smelled of best food ever.
Deep in mind, felt something. Felt . . . Edmund. Edmund pain rushed through Beast body. Heard panting. Smell of blood in mind. Pain, pain, pain, like pain of shift, filled Beast. Saw Edmund in corner. Saw through Edmund eyes. Saw thing with many teeth. Shadow thing. Creature thing with teeth.
Thing in Ed mind turned to see Beast. Was dangerous. Predator.
Ed? Jane shouted inside. Edmund? Panic like prey must feel in Jane heart. Panic like prey in Beast heart. Creature thing lunged at Beast.
Beast leaped away. Creature scored Beast-rump with claws. Beast swiped with claws and raced into dark.
Beast woke. Was standing four-paw-straddled, head down, shoulders raised, pelt standing on end. Was growling.
Stopped growling. Was safe. Creature thing was not here. Mock fight had stopped.
Kitchen had fallen silent. Was confused. Jane? What was predator?
* * *
* * *
Furious, I took over Beast’s body and turned for the stairs, catching sight of Brute. I skidded to a stop. His white jaw was bloody in the spacing of the points matching Beast’s claws. Eli was racing to clean up the were-tainted blood and apply pressure to Brute’s jaw. Pea was snarling. At me. Her steel claws out and shining in the kitchen lights. Crap.
But the thoughts I had found . . .
It was dawn. I had to shift to human form now or be stuck as Beast all day. I raced for the stairs. For once Beast agreed.
Shift. Now! Beast demanded. No more inside Beast head.
I felt Beast open the Gray Between as I raced for the stairs. I didn’t make it.
* * *
* * *
I woke stretched out on the stairs, the treads pressing into my ribs and thighs. I was shaking, sick, and naked, and Bruiser was there beside me, folding me in an afghan, one I recognized from the house in New Orleans. It was soft and fuzzy and familiar as it covered me and wrapped around me. He lifted me from the stairs. Carried me to our room. Closed the door behind us. He placed me on the bed and raised the head of the bed upright. It was the fanciest bed I’d ever slept in. Bruiser had picked it out for us, a special cooling memory-foam mattress, the bed itself with all the bells and whistles. I pulled the sheets and blankets over me, making a cocoon for myself, and Bruiser found and turned on an electric blanket, instant warmth pulsing into the weave of the afghan.
He sat beside me. “Eli is bringing you a high-protein hot chocolate.”
I didn’t reply, the shock of the encounter a steady tremor within me. Because it had been an encounter, not a vision or a memory. It had been real. My connection to Edmund was severed. But Beast’s . . . Beast’s might be partially intact, like a frayed wire that sometimes still carried a current.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Bruiser asked.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, staring at the far corner of the room. I asked, “What did you see?”
“I was going to the kitchen and saw you playing with Brute and the grindy in the main room. Then you clawed him. He didn’t bite you, by the way, so you’re safe from were-taint.” There was no censure in his voice. He was self-contained and composed, a rock I could lean on. Which was peculiar. To think of leaning on someone. To need someone.
And other people needed me. Like Molly. Like Eli and Alex. Like my godchildren. Like Brute and Bruiser . . . Dang. Bruiser needed me too.
“Yeah. I need to apologize.” How bizarre was my life now, that I had to apologize to a werewolf and thank him for not biting me? I focused away from the shadowy corner of the room to Bruiser’s face. Reached up and rubbed my knuckles over his scruff. “I really like the beard.”
He caught my hand and kissed my knuckles. “This is the definition of diversion.”
“More like prevarication.”
“Why did you—or Beast?—lose control?”
“Ummm. Waiting for Eli?”
“What do you—”
A knock came at the door. I nodded to Bruiser’s unspoken question and he called for Eli to come in. My partner stopped and eyeballed us, suspicious at whatever he saw on my face. “What?”
“You need to hear this too.” I patted the mattress on my other side.
“No way am I getting into bed with you and George. Too kinky for me.”
I raised my brows at him, thinking of all the things I could have teased him with. And didn’t.
“I’ll pull up a chair.”
He gave Bruiser the tall mug of chocolate, lifted the tufted, fringed, upholstered barrel chair, and set it near me. Sat. Crossed one ankle over his knee. Rested his arms out to the sides across the curved back. The former ranger made even the delicate chair look manly. His natural machismo made his entire world look masculine.
As he got situated, I drank down a good portion of the supersweet treat. I needed the calories to replace what I always used when I shifted. “Okay,” I said when we were all ready. “I’ve always known that Beast keeps things from me, but this was a surprise because Beast didn’t know it either. My tie with Ed was ripped away when the SOD Two took him and bled him empty. But Beast’s connection is still active off and on. Or was reattached when I was in the witch circle. Or something. Maybe.”
“Interesting,” Bruiser said softly. He scratched his beard slowly, a new gesture since he’d stopped shaving, one that indicated deep thought. Or an itchy face. Or both.
“While Beast played with Brute, her mind was open and I—we—saw Ed. He was being tortured by the shadow I saw before, but I got a better look at the torturer. It was a creature with shark teeth and huge eyes.”
Eli said, “Drink your cocoa.”
I did as ordered and drained the last of the drink, the sugar hitting my system with an instant high. Eli exchanged the mug for the blue Anzu feather, and the pain that had become so much a part of me that I tended to overlook it vanished when I shoved the feather against my belly and took a deep breath. “Thanks.” I watched my business partner and best friend in the world, all relaxed and comfy in his pretty chair, and knew he was lying by body language to me. He was too slender, too hard, and too twitchy under the skin, evidenced by the tightness of the flesh around his eyes and the utter stillness with which he held himself. Eli needed to go do something with that energy. He needed a job, a battle to fight, a cause to fight for, and he needed it now, right this second. It was too hard, sitting in a pretty chair, waiting for the vamp infestation to show up and give him the chance to do battle.