I felt movement nearer to me, and turned, but I was slow. I think Peter wasn’t the only one in shock. Cisco was pulling Peter to his feet by the collar of his jacket. Cisco was shouting something. I couldn’t see what the problem was—there was nothing but Soledad’s body. Then I looked at the body and realized that she was still in tiger form. Her body hadn’t reverted to human form. Dead shapeshifters always revert to human form. I raised my gun and had it aimed, when the “body” sprang up and threw itself at Peter and Cisco.
32
CISCO FOULED PETER’S shot by throwing his body in the way of the claws. I got off two shots before the faceless body brought them to the floor. And I was suddenly having the same problem they’d just had, trying to find a place to fire into that fur that wouldn’t hit the two boys underneath it. They had saved my life and I still thought, Boys.
Claudia and Remus got there first, because you just can’t outrun a shapeshifter. Edward and Olaf were close behind, but they didn’t get there first. It was Claudia and Remus who joined me around the struggling pile. A gun fired up through the tiger’s chest. Claudia actually pushed me out of the way hard enough that I fell against the wall. Too many guns in too small a space; friendly fire was as dangerous to us as Soledad.
Whoever was shooting was trying to make a hole through her chest. Her body jerked and jumped with the power of it. She staggered to her feet. I swear that I could see the hallway through the hole in her lower chest. But even as I watched, the muscle began to flow like water, healing. Shit. It was Peter who had shot a hole through her. Cisco was trying to breathe through a throat that wasn’t there anymore.
Edward and Olaf were beside each other, firing into Soledad’s body like they were on a shooting range. So cool, so professional, so accurate. It was a little hard to miss her at this range.
Some of the guards had gone to their knees around Edward, Olaf, Remus, and Claudia, some standing, some kneeling so they wouldn’t get in each other’s way, a very organized slaughter. The tiger’s body jumped and danced with the bullets like some sort of spasming puppet. But she didn’t go down. I fired from the wall where Claudia had thrown me. I emptied my clip into Soledad and watched her body and fur flow over the wounds. It was fucking silver and she was treating it like it was ordinary bullets. I’d never seen a shapeshifter able to do that. Even fairies, once you opened a hole in them that big, didn’t heal like this. I emptied my clip and did almost exactly what Peter had done earlier, except that my extra clip was attached to my belt. She wasn’t acting like a wereanything. She was acting like a rotting vampire, that special kind of undead that were rare in the United States. Of course, her master wasn’t from around here.
My hearing was coming back in my left ear, because I could hear screaming, distantly, as if they weren’t all standing right next to me. My right ear was still a buzzing silence. I yelled, “Fire, we need to set her on fire!” I must have yelled it too loud because they all looked at me. I yelled, “Burn her!”
Olaf took off running back down the corridor. Seeing him run away actually distracted me enough that I jumped when the guns started firing again. I turned back to the action, and found the body up and moving again. The face had grown back, but the chest was a gaping wound. Her lungs had to be gone, but she moved; she jumped at me in one of those long arcs that made her body a golden smear of light. I fired at that blur until my gun clicked empty. I dropped the empty gun and went for a blade, and knew I’d never make it.
A second blur was in front of me, and we were crashing back into the wall, hard enough that I saw stars before I realized that the second blur was Claudia. She’d thrown her body in the way, and was slugging it out hand to claw. She must have been out of ammo, too. Those claws sliced up her chest, and she went into a defensive crouch, protecting herself as well as she could. The tiger screamed, or roared at us, and then turned and ran the other way. It was almost funny, because for a breath we all just stood there. Then almost as a mass we ran after her. My stomach didn’t so much hurt as twinge, as if the muscles weren’t working quite right. It made me stumble, then I found my feet, and I ran. If I could run, I couldn’t be that hurt, right? I could feel blood flowing down the front of me, soaking into my jeans. If Soledad got out, she might move the vamps, or warn someone, or set up an ambush. We had to stop her, had to. But we couldn’t run like the shapeshifters ran. Remus and the others passed Edward and me as if we were standing still.
They bayed her at the double glass doors. They bayed her within sight of the parking lot, in sight of freedom. Remus was cut up now, too. They formed a circle around her, double thick in front of the doors. She crouched in the center of that circle, snarling at them. She was all gold and white, and even after everything I could still see that she was beautiful. Graceful in that way that the cat lycanthropes seemed to be. Her tail twitched, tight and angry.
Edward popped a fresh magazine home. He pulled the slide back and put one in the chamber. The sound echoed around the circle. Not everyone had more clips; some, like me, were out, but enough of them did that it was eerie and businesslike.
Soledad snarled with her tiger fangs. “My death will not stop the Harlequin from killing you. My mistress’s death will not protect you from the wild hunt that is coming.”
“You didn’t give us a black mask,” I said.
Her orange-yellow eyes turned to me. She made a noise that was between a growl and a purr. The sound of it raised the hairs on the back of my neck. “You will die.”
“The vampire council is all about rules, Soledad. It’s against your own laws to kill us when you’ve only given us white masks, something about fair play and all that.”
I wasn’t great at reading even people I knew in animal form, but I thought she looked afraid. “If you kill us, the rest of them will hunt you down, Anita. It is against vampire law to slay the Harlequin.”
“I’m not killing you as Jean-Claude’s vampire servant. I’m killing you and your mistress as a federal marshal and a legal vampire executioner.”
“I know your laws, Anita. You have no warrant for us.”
“I have two warrants for two vampires that look a damned sight like your Mercia and your mistress.”
Again there was that flinching through her alien eyes. I was just getting better at reading furry faces. Bully for me.
“The warrants list names of church members,” Soledad purred.
“But the warrant is worded sort of vaguely. It states that I can kill the vampire responsible for the death of the victim, and that I can, at my discretion, kill anyone who assisted in that death. It also allows me to kill anyone who tries to impede me in carrying out my court-appointed duty.” I looked into that strangely beautiful face. “Which means you.”
Olaf was beside Edward. He had a can of WD-40 in his hand and a torch made of rags bound to what looked like the end of a metal mop handle. There was a sharp oily smell from it all. He said in that deep voice, “I was going to go for the ordnance in the car, but the janitor’s closet was closer.”
I almost asked what he meant by ordnance, but was probably glad I didn’t know. Though maybe what they had in their car would have been quicker than what we were about to do to her. Olaf had Edward light the torch. Apparently he’d soaked it in something, because it burned clear and bright.
Claudia told the people on the far side of the room to clear a space. They parted like a curtain and left Soledad in a clear kill space. The guards formed two lines, one kneeling and one standing. They took their stances, and Edward joined them.
Claudia yelled, “Head or heart!”
Soledad leapt, not toward the double line of doors and freedom, or the firing squad, but the thinner line that led back down the hall. The guns all seemed to sound at once. That liquid leap of gold and silver crumbled to the floor. She could heal, but the initial injury was real. They fired into her until she twitched, but didn’t try to rise again.
Olaf turned so I could see the gun tucked in the back of his belt. “
Cover me.”
I kept expecting my wound to catch up with me, but the adrenaline was carrying me. I’d pay for it later, but right now I felt fine. I wrapped my hand around the gun and pulled it free of the inner pants holster. I’d expected Olaf to go for something big, but it wasn’t. It was an H & K USP Compact. I’d looked at one before I settled on the Kahr. I clasped it in a two-handed grip and aimed it at the fallen weretiger. “Ready when you are,” I said.
Olaf glided into the circle with his torch and his squeezy can of accelerant. I didn’t glide, I just walked, but I was at his side when he got to her. I was at his side when he sprayed accelerant over her ruined face and chest. The world suddenly smelled thick and oily. She reacted to the liquid or the smell, reaching out at us. I shot her in the face. The gun jumped in my hands, so it was pointed at the ceiling before it came back down to point at her.
“What the fuck is in this?” I asked.
He shoved the torch into the wound I’d made, and she started to scream. The smell of burning hair was strong and bitter. It began to overwhelm the scent of the accelerant. He set her afire. He covered her in the thick oily liquid and burned her. She was too hurt to do much, but she could scream, and writhe. It looked like it hurt. It smelled like burning hair, and finally, when she stopped moving, it smelled like burning meat, and oil. She made a high-pitched keening noise for a very, very long time.
Edward had moved up beside me to aim his gun with the one Olaf had loaned me. The three of us stood there while Soledad died by pieces. When she stopped moving, stopped making noise, I said, “Get an axe.” I think I actually said it in a normal voice. I could hear out of one ear at least. The one that Peter had shot beside was still out for the count. It made sound echo oddly in my head.
“What?” Edward asked.
“She heals like one of the vampires that descends from the Lover of Death.”
“I do not know this name,” Olaf said.
“Rotting vampires, she heals like one of the rotting vamps. Even sunlight isn’t a sure thing. I need an axe, and a knife, a big, sharp one.”
“You will take her head,” Olaf asked.
“Yeah, you can do the heart, if you want.”
He looked down at the body. She was human now, lying on her back, legs spread. Most of her face was gone, and her lower chest; one breast was burned and blasted away, but the other one was still pale and perky. One side of her hair, the yellow of her tiger fur, was still there. There was no face, no eyes to stare up at us. I might have been grateful for that except that staring into the blackened, peeling ruin of her face wasn’t really an improvement.
I swallowed hard enough that it hurt. My throat burned as if breakfast might be trying to come back up. I tried a deep breath, but the smell of burnt flesh also wasn’t an improvement. I ended up breathing shallow and trying not to think too hard.
“I will find her heart for you,” Olaf said, and I was glad my hearing wasn’t quite working right. It made his voice sound flat and lose a lot of the inflection. If I’d heard all the longing in his voice that I saw on his face I might have shot him. I was betting his special ammo would have made a really big hole in a human body. I thought about it, I really did, but in the end I gave him back his gun. He extinguished his torch. Someone brought us an axe and a freshly sharpened knife. I was really missing my vampire kit, but it was at home, no, at the Circus.
Her spine was brittle from the fire, easiest decapitation I’d ever done. Olaf was having to dig in her chest to find the pieces of burnt and bloody heart. We’d made a mess of her. I kicked the head a little ways from the body. Yeah, I wanted to burn the head and heart and scatter the ashes over moving water, but she was dead. I kicked the head again, so that it skittered across the floor, too burned to bleed.
My knees wouldn’t hold me anymore. I collapsed where I was standing with the axe still in my hands.
Edward knelt beside me. He touched the front of my shirt. His hand came away crimson like he’d dipped it in red paint. He ripped my shirt open to my chest. The claw marks looked like angry, jagged mouths. There was something pink and bloody and shiny bulging out of one of the mouths like a swollen tongue.
“Shit,” I said.
“Does it hurt yet?” he asked.
“No,” and my voice sounded amazingly calm. Shock was a wonderful thing.
“We need to get you to a doctor before that changes,” he said, and his voice was calm, too. He wrapped his arms around me and stood, cradling me. He started back the way we’d come at a fast walk. “Does that hurt?” he asked.
“No,” I said again, my voice distant and too calm. Even I knew I was too calm, but I felt sort of distant and unreal. Let’s hear it for shock.
He started running down the hallway with me in his arms. “Does it hurt now?” he asked.
“No.”
He ran faster.
33
EDWARD HIT THE door to the main trauma room with his shoulder. We were inside, but there was no one to pay attention to me. There was a white wall of doctors and nurses, and some of them in civilian clothes, but they were all around one gurney. Their voices held that frantic calm that you never want to hear when you’re on your back looking up at doctors.
A spike of fear got through the shock—Peter. It had to be Peter. The adrenaline rush of it stabbed through my stomach like a fresh blow. Edward turned, and I could see more of the room. It wasn’t Peter. He was lying on a different gurney, not that far away from the one that had everyone’s interest. Who the fuck was it? We didn’t have any more humans on our side.
The only person with Peter was Nathaniel. He was holding the boy’s free hand. The other hand was hooked up to an IV. Nathaniel looked at me, and his face showed fear. Enough that Peter fought to turn and see what was coming through the door.
Nathaniel touched his chest, held him down. “It’s Anita and your…Edward.” I think he’d been about to say your dad.
I heard Peter’s voice as we got closer. “Your face, what’s wrong with them?”
Nathaniel said, “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with my face.” He tried to make a joke of it, but the noises from the other side of the room made humor sort of hard.
I couldn’t see past all the white coats. “Who is it?” I asked.
Nathaniel answered, “It’s Cisco.”
Cisco. He wasn’t hurt that badly. I’d seen shapeshifters heal throat wounds that bad. Were there more bad guys in here with us? “How did he get hurt?” I asked.
Peter actually tried to sit up, and Nathaniel kept him down with that hand on his chest, as if he’d been having to pin Peter to the gurney for a while. “Anita,” Peter said.
Edward put me on the nearest empty gurney, and the movement didn’t so much hurt as let me know that it was going to hurt. It was as if things shifted around that I shouldn’t have been able to feel. I had a moment of nausea and knew that that was just me thinking too hard, or hoped it was. Edward moved me so Peter could see me without moving. It meant that I could see Peter. His jacket and shirt were gone, but bulky bandages were taped across his stomach; more of them were on his left shoulder and upper arm. His weapons and jacket and the remains of his bloody shirt were on the floor under his gurney. It’d be my turn next.
“What happened to Cisco?” I asked.
Peter said, “You’re both hurt.”
“I’m fine,” Edward said, “it’s not my blood.”
Peter looked at me, his eyes too wide, face sickly pale. “He got his throat torn out.”
“I remember, but he should be able to heal that,” I said.
“Not all of us are that good at healing, Anita,” Nathaniel said.
I looked at him now. The fact that I hadn’t truly looked at him said clearly how much I was hurt. He was wearing one of his pairs of jogging shorts that left very little to the imagination. His hair was back in a tight braid. I met his eyes, and I still loved him, but for once my body didn’t react to the sight of him.
Edwa
rd came to stand by Peter, and Nathaniel came to me, an exchange of emotional prisoners. Nathaniel took my hand and gave me as chaste a kiss as we’d ever exchanged. His lavender eyes held the worry that he’d been hiding from Peter, or trying to hide from him. He leaned over my body, and I heard him draw in a big breath of air. “Nothing’s perforated,” he whispered.
Until he said it, I hadn’t thought about it. My intestines could have been perforated, or hell, my stomach. If I’d had to get clawed up, it wasn’t a bad place for it. It wasn’t a fatal hit, not right away, not if things weren’t spilling out of me. They were bulging out, not spilling. There was a difference.
“Is Peter…”
“Not perforated either, you were both lucky.”
I knew he was right, but…The voices had risen in pitch across the room. When the doctors start sounding that panicked, things are very bad. Cisco, shit.
It was Cherry who peeled away from the crowd around him and came to me. She had thrown a white coat over the usual black Goth outfit. Her heavy eyeliner had run down her face like black tears. She touched Peter’s shoulder as she went past, and said, “Let the drugs work, Peter. You can’t help him by fighting to stay awake.”
“She was trying for me,” he said. “She was reaching for me. He put himself in her way. He saved me.”
She patted his shoulder and checked the IV almost automatically, but she also adjusted the little knobby thing on it. The liquid began to drip a little faster. She patted him again and came to the other side of the gurney so that she could look at Nathaniel across me, or maybe so she could keep an eye on what was happening to Cisco. There were so many people around him that it looked like they were getting in each other’s way.
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