Blood Cross jy-2

by Faith Hunter

  “Not one,” I said, lying and telling the truth all at once. I had more than one, so “not one” was the truth. Sorta. I was going to have to get down on my knees and confess a whole lotta half sins, nearly sins, and wanted-to sins. Guilt wriggled under my skin.

  “And crosses?” he asked dryly.

  Not willing to lie outright, I said, “One tiny one you nearly dislodged in the limo.”

  Bruiser glanced at the plunging neckline of my new dress and his mouth did that little twitch of a quirk. “It’s well secured, then. Keep it that way.”

  I looked at the shattered plate and salmon at our feet. “Sorry about that.”

  “It let us see who flinched.”

  I grinned. “It did, didn’t it?”

  CHAPTER 9

  Fast cars and money lead back to dames

  “George Dumas, first blood-servant to Pellissier.” The soft words floated from down the hallway, bouncing off the old brick, a female vamped-out voice, the inflection asking Bruiser to join her. I glanced at him and without a word we swiveled, our bodies moving as if we had trained together for years.

  A little vamp stood just inside an open cubicle with a door, the space lit with bright electric lights. She beckoned; we moved toward her. The room behind her was a big pantry, three shelf-lined walls organized with cans and boxes, with household appliances on a side wall, including a washer and dryer. We were at the back of the warehouse; I could smell the Mississippi River strong on the air. I hesitated in the dim hallway, scent-searching on a quick breath, taking her in.

  She was short, model-slender, with streaked blond hair and the bluest eyes I’d seen on anyone, human or not. A diamond necklace big enough to qualify as a collar circled her neck, and diamond and blue topaz drops the size of walnuts dangled from her ears. “In here,” she whispered. I didn’t know her and wasn’t inclined to follow. Bruiser, however, stepped closer, which brought us even. Vamp-fast, she snatched my right arm and Bruiser’s left, her tiny hand like a steel cuff, cold and cutting. And strong.

  Faster than thought, I reached for a stake. She yanked. Hurled me off my feet. Tossed me inside. I hit the back shelves. Stake in hand, I pushed off. Looked back. Without effort, she threw Bruiser at me. With him in midair, the pantry door slammed. I got a quick look at it—three inches of hardwood reinforced with iron straps. A trap.

  I caught Bruiser one handed. We impacted with pained grunts, the shelves ramming into my unprotected back. The lock clicked home. Using his own momentum, I shoved Bruiser aside. He hit the floor in a controlled roll on hands and knees, and got up to his feet at nearly vamp speed.

  A stake in each hand, I rushed her. She was fast. The vamp caught me again and whirled me into a corner in a dance-step-smooth martial art move. She scuttled away from us. Her back against the door, hands out, placating. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she said as I found my footing.

  Not caring what she claimed, I pulled my tiny blade and reversed it in my grip, street fighting position. Beast hissed but stayed down, watching, her claws in my mind like steel points, her energy pouring into me. My breath was hard and swift and I flashed the blade in the too-bright lights so she would see it was silver-plated—poisonous to her kind if I cut her. I wished the blade was bigger but I felt better with weapons drawn.

  Bruiser was on his feet, his hands out in a mimic of vamp grace as we evaluated the female vamp. She didn’t look at the blade, but watched us, eyes darting back and forth, her feet balanced and her body posture claiming she was familiar with fighting and willing to demonstrate. And she was blocking the door.

  She was also hungry, her skin pallid, but her eyes weren’t vamp-black and bloody; instead, they were controlled and collected. From the remembered strength of her grip, she was an old one, powerful, and despite her small frame, I might have a hard time beating her with just the two weapons and no protective gear.

  Yet she’d said she wouldn’t hurt us. And she wasn’t dressed for wet work. Her dress had the dragon-lady-seamstress’s signature lines, looking long, lean, and elegant, even on her tiny form, midnight blue shot with silver thread, which had to be a vamp joke. And she wore spike heels in blue-black ostrich leather, little feathers on the buckles. She looked totally out of place standing in the pantry. “I won’t hurt you. At least not right now. Truce.”

  I lowered my hands a fraction to show I’d listen. Bruiser dropped his and said, “Innara of Clan Bouvier. How may I serve you?”

  “I have a message from my master.”

  Bruiser blinked. With that careful blandness I was coming to appreciate, he said, “You could have called.” I laughed through my nose.

  “I could not. My master has determined that many of the Mithrans’ cellular communications are being monitored.” Innara’s tiny hands opened in the universal gesture of peace, fingers splayed. “Servant of the Blood Master of New Orleans and the one they call the Rogue Hunter, hear me.”

  I could tell I was added on only because I happened to be near, but what the heck, I’d stay to listen. Especially as a thick door stood between me and freedom.

  Her voice took on a cant that said she was repeating a memorized statement. “The alliance of Mithrans is in grave danger, as is the safety of this city. Mearkanis and Rousseau have formed a new coalition, leaving the weaker clans Arceneau and Desmarais unprotected. They have allied with St. Martin, who has broken faith with Pellissier.”

  Bruiser cursed and went pale. I tried to figure out what it all meant. And then Innara told me. “There are now three leagues of Mithrans rather than the former two, and the new association leaves Pellissier’s alliance with Bouvier and Laurent no longer in a position of strength. Pellissier’s enemies plot war. Rafael has come clandestinely to Clan Bouvier to propose we join him in revolt against Pellissier. My master has agreed to formal talks, to consider this, as a ruse to gain his trust. It is said that Rafael has contacted one of the Sons of Darkness for his blessing, though this is only rumor.”

  Bruiser went nearly vamp-still in shock. I wondered what the sons were and why they made the blood slowly drain from his face. The Sons of Darkness . . . They had been part of something I had read recently.

  Innara stepped close and took Bruiser’s hands in hers. “The new union believes in the old ways. The Naturaleza has been reintroduced to the newly fledged and many yearn for a way of life the old ones among us have renounced. Rafael of Mearkanis feeds this desire with fiery rhetoric and hopes the change in balance of power will allow him to challenge for master of the city. Be assured. To protect against the new alliance, my master will again blood-oath Clan Bouvier to Leo.”

  I felt Bruiser’s relief like a blow to my side. He’d been braced for something else. “Pellissier is honored.”

  “Naturaleza?” I asked, picking out that nugget for clarification.

  Bruiser ignored my question. “There have been indications that Rafael was seeking power.”

  “Traditionally,” Innara said to me, “the strength of Pellissier held us in balance and allowed us to blend harmoniously with humans. Now that is changing.” She pressed Bruiser’s hands. “Leo must act.”

  Leo was whacked-out with grief and might not be able to act. But I didn’t say it.

  Bruiser said, “The recent alignment between Pellissier and Arceneau is advantageous to restoring that peace.”

  “Arceneau has sworn itself to Leo?” Innara asked, her face taking on a fierce joy.

  Bruiser nodded. It was news to me. I asked them, “Will Arceneau give Leo enough power to defeat the new coalition?”

  “No,” Innara said, “but if Desmarais swears to Leo, and if Leo acts quickly, then we have a chance.”

  I redrew the balance of power in my mind, the new alliance of vamp clans. On the one hand was Rafael of Mearkanis, with Rousseau and St. Martin pledged to him. And maybe these sons, whatever they were. Then there was Leo of Pellissier, with Laurent, Bouvier, and now Arceneau. Desmarais lingered by its lonesome. So if a new vamp war started, it would b
e a battle between Rafael and Leo. I didn’t know enough about clan strengths to know if it would be a fair match.

  Satisfied that the Bouvier vamp didn’t mean us harm, I lowered my weapons. Tension I hadn’t noted in her slight frame relaxed. Instantly, she looked like a child playing dress-up in her mommy’s clothes and jewels, innocent and sweet and fully human, not like the killer she was. I hated how they could do that. “Leo must put aside the Dolore and take up the reins of his power,” she said.

  Bruiser took a step back, his face closing in. Before I could ask what a dolore was, she went on, her tone fierce, her hands fisting, trying to convince Bruiser. “You must tell Leo that if he hopes to keep the peace, he must break the new alliance quickly or there will be war—violent, bloody, and decisive. Our masters will die. We will not be able to protect our young in devoveo while they regain themselves—they will be left to run mad. Our humans will not survive. The city will be torn asunder.” To me she said, “Rafael believes in the Naturaleza, the old ways, that humans are here only for our pleasure and to feed us—and that all other supernatural beings must be wiped from the earth.”

  The words “supernatural beings must be wiped from the earth” reverberated in the small room. That meant Molly and her kids. And every other witch in the city. And me. Crap. Crap, crap, crap. And then I heard the word “devoveo.” What the heck was that? I’d never heard the term before, but it sounded as though it was related to the madness of young rogues. Maybe worth investigating.

  “Make Leo listen,” she demanded of Bruiser. Her head cocked, rocking on the stem of her neck into an angle not common to humans, like a bird with a broken neck. It was just . . . so weird. She seemed to be listening to something or someone I couldn’t hear. Her pupils widened, vamping out.

  “My anamchara tells me that Rafael is coming. I must . . .” Her eyes landed on me, and the sclera bled scarlet. Fear pheromones skittered into the small room, brittle and prickly, and all hers. Innara took a breath, the sound loud with panic. “He will catch me. With you. He will know that my master has accepted his offer to parley, in deception.”

  And if Leo loses the vamp war, then a victorious Rafael will kill his enemies, I thought. Gotcha. Innara was self-serving, playing both sides just like her master. The vamp could tear a human apart with her bare hands, but she looked so helpless, even with the bloody eyes. I sooo did not want to get involved in this, but I was already neck deep and sinking. Tucking the stake and knife back in their hidey spots, I let the words drag out of me. “No, he won’t.” Her face split with joy. If there was also a lot of cunning behind the purer emotion, well, she was a vamp.

  Motioning her away from the door, I held my hand out to Bruiser and snapped the lock. The door cracked open and we stepped through the slit. A shadow darkened the hallway entrance as someone approached. There wasn’t time to explain. I stepped into Bruiser, pulling the door shut behind us, and yanked him close. And picked up where we’d left off in the limo. He grunted once, hesitated a fraction of a second as if analyzing, and seemed to understand.

  His arms went around me, his mouth hard, and one hand slid down my side to cup my bottom. The other slid up, brushing the side of my breast before wrapping around my nape. I had a moment to note that he tasted of champagne and smelled of Leo, which I hadn’t paid attention to on the floor of the limo. He lifted me and pressed me against the closed door, took my thigh, and wrapped it around his waist.

  In only a moment, lust pheromones wafted from him, his mouth softened, and I repositioned my mouth under his, glancing up the hallway. Through slit lids, I saw Rafael, heir to Mearkanis, stop in the far end. And watch. He sniffed, and I knew he’d detect no lust from me. Crap. Crap, crap, crap, and more freaking crap! I closed my eyes and tried to relax. But I couldn’t. Not with Rafael watching. And from the faint scuffle of shoes on the floor, others as well.

  With a low growl in my mind, Beast took over. And I let her. Mate, she thought at me. Soon. My limbs softened. Flesh heated. This one is strong. Worthy of us.

  Responding to the not-so-subtle signals, Bruiser slid his tongue between my lips in a delicate brush and swirl. I/Beast sighed into his mouth and he chuckled under his breath, masculine and possessive. He pulled me closer. His arousal pressed into the center of me, demanding. He’d been holding back, waiting on me, and now he leaned me hard into the door, the iron bands cutting into my spine. The pain was sharp and I arched into him. His lips left my mouth and trailed down my neck. Licking.

  Oh . . . my. My breath deepened. “Yes,” I whispered. “Like that.” I rolled my head back, giving him access. Letting Beast take over. My body responded, breasts aching, wanting. My hands clenched, bunching his tux coat tightly. A moment later, the shuffling at the hallway end disappeared. A long moment after that, Bruiser paused, his lips buried in the deep V of my neckline. “Are they gone?” he murmured, his mouth brushing against delicate flesh, his voice vibrating between us.

  I didn’t want to answer, and my own hesitation brought a titter of laughter to my lips, my chest bones bumping his mouth. I pushed Beast back down and she went, but with a catty, satisfied purr. “Yes. They’re gone.” I felt his smile against my skin.

  “Well, damn. I guess we have to stop, then.”

  I laughed again, louder this time, and eased him away, my hands on his arms, my leg dropping from his waist. “Maybe later,” I said before I could stop myself.

  “Count on it,” he said, and set me down, his hands sliding slowly along my bottom.

  The door opened behind us and little Innara peeked out, looking up and down the hallway. Finding Rafael gone, she turned her attention to us and breathed deeply, taking in the pheromones and responding to them. A little smile gave her a gamine look, a bit teasing. “My anamchara says I can return now. If you two would care to join us? We would be pleased to leave this party and find a more private place. To share blood and body with you both.”

  I started to say, “No freaking way,” but Bruiser spoke first, smoothly. “A gracious invitation. Another time, perhaps, lovely lady.” He bowed over her hand and kissed it. It didn’t even look weird when he did it, which was weird in itself. I shut my mouth with a click of teeth.

  “We certainly hope so.” Holding on to his hand, effectively pulling the three of us together, Innara leaned in to me, showing fang when she said, “This one smells . . . tasty.” She was looking at me as if she was both hungry and aroused. Double ick.

  “She is the Rogue Hunter, contracted by the council,” Bruiser said. There was that phrase and tone again, that title. I needed to ask about that sometime.

  Innara said, “We hope she lives long enough to fulfill her contract.” She dropped our hands and slithered down the hallway and out of sight. Leaving us alone.

  Suddenly reticent, I adjusted my dress, watching Bruiser from the corner of my eye. He leaned against the brick, still clearly happy to see me, amusement playing across his features, the expression saying that he knew what I was looking at. His hair had fallen forward and a quick glance showed me red lipstick on his mouth. I wondered if he’d smeared it on Innara’s hand. “Wipe your mouth?” I suggested.

  One handed, he pulled a hanky and wiped his lips, passing it to me. “Yours too.”

  “Oh.” I took the handkerchief. It was the same one with Leo’s blood on it, but it was a little late to worry about scent-marking. I dabbed my mouth on a clean corner and held out the soiled cloth. Bruiser took my hand instead of the handkerchief. Slowly, he pulled me to him. I felt stupid jerking away or holding back, seeing a mental image of me stretched across the hallway, balanced on one foot. I smiled at it and when my chest once again touched his, he wrapped a steely arm around me and said, “We are going to do this. Soon.”

  I gulped. Beast purred. And Bruiser leaned in. Paused with his lips only a fraction of an inch from mine. “We are.” His smile was teasing, a flash of very white teeth. He whispered, “Say it. We are.”

  “Oh. Um. Well. I may be dead tomorrow, you know?�
�� When his arm loosened in surprise, I ducked away with a little dance step and said, “What’s an anamchara?”

  Bruiser held his position a moment longer. When he stood straight, the amused smile was still in place, reminding me a bit of Beast when she played with her dinner. While it was still alive. I thought for a moment that Bruiser would push the issue, but he didn’t. Instead, he took my arm and curled it through his, leading me down the hallway toward the party.

  “Anamchara has had many meanings throughout history, but for Mithrans, anamchara are soul bonded. Or mind bonded, if you prefer. It’s a state sometimes entered into by vampires, an everlasting joining, an eternal mating. They share thoughts, emotions, everything in their lives, from moment to moment. It is a difficult arrangement, and one not sought by most, even after long years together.” He tilted his eyes at me, his amusement growing, his words dropping lower, provocative. “They share . . . everything. The relationship is said to be best experienced by them in sexual and feeding encounters. At the same time if possible.”

  I couldn’t help looking down at the proof of his interest in me, and blushed furiously. Well, hell. Bruiser laughed again, a low sound that had Beast rolling over, her pelt rubbing against my skin. But we stepped into the open area and it took his attention as it did mine, our security training automatic. We had worked our way back to the front of the warehouse, the area with pillows and rugs. There were groups of vamps and groups of humans, but separate groups, with almost no intermixing. Soft music played from hidden speakers.

  “It does have drawbacks, of course,” he said, and I brought my attention back to the subject. “There can be no lies between anamchara. And it is said that if one dies, the other goes insane.”