This Side of the Grave nh-5

by Jeaniene Frost

  “She will be here in twenty minutes,” Jacques announced, coming back over to us. Bones let out a snort.

  “I should think so, after the trouble we’ve gone through to speak with her.”

  Jacques didn’t reply to that. He hadn’t been much of a talker the last time I’d met him, either. After waiting the stated amount of time, Jacques opened the gates to the cemetery and I went inside, knowing where we were headed but willing to let him take the lead. The ghoul started to close the gate after me, but Bones’s hand shot out to stop him.

  “I’m going with her.”

  He frowned. “Majestic said she will meet with the Reaper first and you afterward.”

  Bones smiled, an easy stretch of his mouth that made his features even more startlingly gorgeous, but his voice didn’t match his playboy good looks.

  “Perhaps you misheard me. I’m going with her, and if you think to stop me, I’ll soon be decorating one of these gate spikes with your head.”

  Jacques was at least twice the width of Bones and just as tall, so to an onlooker, if they fought, it would be a no-brainer who’d win. But the ghoul couldn’t match the power seething off Bones as he dropped his shields. It poured from him and fanned out to encompass the cemetery, making the sentient ghosts give him a more interested glance as it brushed across them.

  “This way,” Jacques said at last, turning his back on us.

  We picked our way around the crumbling crypts and refurbished tombs as Jacques led us toward Marie Laveau’s vault. I knew this cemetery was a popular tourist attraction, but I didn’t see myself coming here just for fun. The air was thicker with all the residual energy from the ghosts, making me feel like I walked through invisible cobwebs with every step. The cemetery might not be large, but because of New Orleans’s history of extremely high mortality rates in comparison to their burial space, each crypt we passed housed the remains of dozens if not hundreds of residents—some of whom watched us as we passed by.

  It also had a different vibe than the time capsule feel of the French Quarter. There, in the backdrop of streets suited for horses instead of cars and gas lanterns illuminating the sidewalks, it somehow didn’t seem odd to see a transparent person adorned in clothes from a different century mingling among the living residents. Here, however, melancholy hung in almost palpable waves, making me imagine that every crypt I passed or foot of ground I trod upon sighed in regret over a life never to be experienced again.

  Jacques stopped by the white oblong crypt bearing Marie Laveau’s name, date of supposed death, and a faint inscription in French that I couldn’t read. He said something in what sounded like Creole, and at the base where several offerings were left to the voodoo queen, a grating noise emanated. Then a few of the old, decrepit-looking stones slid smoothly back to reveal a dark hole within.

  Marie might be calculating and meticulous, but she also had a sense of humor, making people travel under her crypt for meetings with her.

  Jacques jumped down into the hole without hesitation. Bones flashed a look at me before doing the same. I followed after a second or two, giving him time to move so I didn’t land on him, and squished down into an inch of brackish-smelling water. Impressive mechanical hideaway, yes, but nothing stayed totally dry underground in New Orleans, and this area was flooded most of the time. Marie must have a better pump system down here than the Army Corps of Engineers.

  Above us, the slabs creaked again as they closed, plunging the tunnel into what would have been complete blackness to anyone without supernatural vision. Bones and I both had that, so I wasn’t worried about something jumping out at us unseen. We also both had boots on, so disgusting things squishing through my toes as we followed down the tunnel wasn’t a concern as well. Still, when I glanced at the tight walls around us, I was unable to suppress a shiver. I’d seen what Marie had installed for a booby trap in this tunnel, and let’s just say it involved enough blades to turn anyone trespassing into red-splattered coleslaw.

  After about forty yards, Jacques opened the metal door at the end that revealed a narrow flight of stairs. Again Bones went up first, me following behind him. At the top of the stairs was a small, windowless room that might be located in a nearby home, or we might possibly be inside one of the larger national crypts in the cemetery. I had no idea, and I was sure that was how Marie wanted it.

  “Majestic,” Bones greeted the woman seated on a plush recliner chair, nodding his head respectfully.

  But when I came out from behind him and saw Marie more clearly, my polite hello vanished under a burst of laughter. On the floor right next to her smart little heels was a pale container of plastic-wrapped poultry, and I didn’t have to look at the label to guess what kind.

  “A headless chicken,” I said once I’d gotten my laughter under control. “Very cool.”

  Bones arched a brow at me, not knowing that upon first meeting the ghoul queen of New Orleans, I’d commented that I was sure she’d be holding a headless chicken considering her fearsome voodoo reputation. Apparently, she’d remembered that, yet another example of the sly humor lurking underneath her whole Queen of the Damned demeanor.

  “It was the best I could do under short notice,” Marie replied with an elegant shrug. Her voice was like acoustical caramel, that Southern Creole accent sweetening each word. Her shawl shifted as she sat up, inky curls brushing her shoulders with the movement. Then her eyes narrowed as she fixed her gaze on Bones.

  “Did Jacques not relay my instructions for you to wait while I met with Cat alone first?”

  Bones didn’t lose any of his easy posture, but I felt tension that wasn’t my own brush over my emotions.

  “I’m certain you heard of the incident at the Ritz yesterday, and I’m also certain you know the attack was aimed at her. So you’ll forgive me, Majestic, if I’m overprotective of my wife’s safety at present.”

  “Yes, I heard.” Not a hint of emotion flickered across her features. “I can assume the bodies recovered from the hotel were those of your attackers?”

  “All but one,” Bones replied. “We took him with us when we left.”

  Now we had Marie’s full attention. She leaned forward, her dark gaze intense. “Tell me you brought this person with you.”

  “Sorry, he’s dead now,” Bones stated impassively.

  “You killed him?” Marie didn’t look pleased, and I didn’t think it was because she’d wished a long, happy life on the other ghoul. In fact, if the man were still alive, he might be grateful that Vlad spared him whatever Marie had in store. From her reputation, she was hell on anyone who violated her safe-passage rules.

  “Vlad did,” I said before Bones could answer. “He didn’t know all the details.” Partly true, anyway.

  “I’ll speak with him about that later,” Marie murmured, almost to herself.

  I gave the single empty chair across from her a glance. “You mind?”

  She waved a hand. “Please.”

  “Bones?” I inquired, assuming I’d just sit on his lap.

  “I’ll stand, Kitten.”

  I settled myself in the chair. So far, things were going better than I expected. Marie hadn’t pitched a fit about Bones being here or the ghoul being dead. Maybe she thought Apollyon was as much of a threat as we did.

  “You may remain, but you will stay silent while I speak with Cat, or I will remove you,” Marie said to Bones in a tone that dared him to argue.

  My hopes plummeted with that single sentence. Bones folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wall, looking for all the world like he was completely relaxed. I couldn’t feel his emotions—he’d locked them down tight upon entering the tunnel—but I bet his little half smile concealed a slew of uncharitable thoughts toward Marie. I couldn’t help but admire his blasé performance. I could never fake nonchalance that well when I was pissed.

  I cleared my throat in the sudden uneasy silence. “So . . . how ’bout them Saints, huh?”

  Marie’s sharp gaze didn’t l
eave mine. “The last time I saw you, you were still a half-breed. Tell me, Cat, how do you find being a full vampire?”

  “It’s great,” I said, knowing she had something up her sleeve with this, but pretending it was a casual question. “I haven’t missed getting my period even once, and hey, no more counting calories. What’s not to love, right?”

  She smiled at me, revealing pretty white teeth that contrasted nicely with her matte red lipstick. “You forgot to mention your ability to kill your first husband with a fireball.”

  My answering smile froze on my face. I’d expected us to talk about Apollyon, not Gregor. He’d been the vampire whose blood was combined with a ghoul’s heart to raise Marie from the dead almost a hundred and fifty years ago, but Marie had wanted him dead, too, so I didn’t anticipate recriminations from her for killing him.

  Marie’s a valuable ally, don’t lose your temper and give her an excuse to side with Apollyon, I reminded myself. Look at Bones. He almost seems bored even though he’s got to be as ticked as you over Marie bringing up Gregor.

  “Because he cheated in his duel with Bones, the Guardian Council of Vampires cleared me of any wrongdoing,” I said, proud that my voice was very calm.

  Marie leaned back in her chair, idly stroking the fabric. Part of me wondered where the secret door was in this room. That chair wasn’t a permanent fixture or it would be mildewed from the damp air, not to mention I didn’t believe Marie would leave herself without an alternate means of escape.

  “Cheating, that doesn’t surprise me,” she commented. “Gregor’s arrogance always was his Achilles’ heel. Like bringing you to Paris when you were sixteen. I told him to come here instead. That his hometown would be the first place anyone would look for him, should his actions be discovered, but he didn’t listen.”

  Everything in me froze. I didn’t dare glance at Bones again. The flash of rage that skipped across my subconscious before he recloaked his emotions told me he was thisclose to losing it at this revelation.

  “So.” I couldn’t keep the edge from my tone if my life depended on it. “Gregor told you about his kidnapping plans for me back then?”

  She continued to stroke her armrest, as though the tension in the room hadn’t become thick enough to cut. “Gregor told me many things. He trusted my loyalty to him as my only living sire. I don’t betray those I’ve sworn loyalty to. This shouldn’t surprise you. I told you last year that if Gregor’s claims of marriage to you were proved, I’d back his side.”

  “You also told me a neat story about how you murdered your husband when he pushed you too far,” I replied sharply. “Well, I’d say tricking me into marrying him as a teenager, murdering my friend, forcibly changing my mother into a vampire, and trying to murder Bones by cheating in their duel all fell under the ‘too far’ category for me. Too bad for Gregor the vision he had of me when I was sixteen didn’t show the part about me using all those neat powers he wanted to control to kill him.”

  “Underestimating you was Gregor’s mistake.” Marie didn’t move a muscle, but all of a sudden, I felt like a mouse staring at a hungry owl. “It won’t be mine. But”—a shrug—“no one can hide from death forever. No one, not even our kind. Death travels the world and passes through even the thickest walls we protect ourselves with. You should remember that.”

  Was that a threat? “Not to be rude, Majestic, but it sounds like you’re telling me to watch my back with you.”

  Marie grunted. “When you truly understand what it means, you’ll know how to defeat Apollyon.”

  At last, we were getting on topic. I’d already figured out that I’d need to kill the ghoul to stop him, but if Marie wanted to feel like she was being all cool and cryptic with the advice, I’d play along.

  “Okay. I’ll remember that.”

  She smiled, genial and somehow terrifying at the same time. “You should. If you don’t, he’ll win.”

  “You could always just spell it out and save us all some time,” I said, unable to keep all the exasperation out of my voice. Did being dead for over a century turn everyone into riddle masters instead of people who could just say what they meant?

  “I won’t join your cause against Apollyon. Last year, my sire could have ordered me to, but with Gregor dead, my loyalty is to my people alone.”

  Anger rose in me. “Even at the expense of countless thousands dying over reasons as stupid as who has fangs versus flat teeth?” I gave her café-latte skin a pointed look. “I would think you’d be smarter than to side with a senseless bigot.”

  “It has nothing to do with bigotry,” she replied sharply. “But Apollyon’s reach has grown. If I openly oppose him, I will be seen as a betrayer of my race. Even ghouls who disagree with Apollyon may side with him out of species loyalty. It will be civil war. During this, am I to believe the vampire nation will not swoop in to crush us while we are weak from infighting?” Marie gave me a thin smile. “I am not so trusting.”

  “Oh come on,” I huffed. “Vampires have no dreams of subjugating ghouls. You know that’s just a smoke screen Apollyon’s using.”

  “There are some among your race who would take advantage of ghouls just as ruthlessly as Apollyon is seeking to do with vampires. If you’re not smart enough to heed my words and outwit him on your own, then you deserve to lose,” she replied with brutal bluntness before leaning forward and reaching behind her chair.

  Everything in me tensed, ready to spring for the knives in my boots, but all she did was pull out an empty wineglass. That previous tension began to ebb. Jacques had served us drinks last time I was here, even though for the life of me I didn’t know how he’d managed to procure a cold gin and tonic in this dank underground area. But instead of calling out to him, Marie set the glass on the armrest of her chair without a word. Then she flicked open a ring on her finger, revealing that it hid a tiny sharp point, and sliced it across her wrist before holding the wineglass underneath the cut.

  Oh fuck no, I thought, keeping myself from bolting out of my chair with every last bit of willpower in me.

  Her gaze drilled into mine as dark purplish liquid began to fill the glass.

  “Reaper,” she said coolly. “Won’t you have something to drink?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Once more, I couldn’t even risk glancing at Bones to see if he looked as appalled as I felt. Play it cool, she could be bluffing, I chanted to myself, managing not to flinch when she held out that half-full glass to me.

  “What an unusual offer, but you know I prefer gin and tonic,” I said, praying my heart didn’t start beating out of sheer panic. If she did know about my twisted feeding habits, who would have told her? And did that person somehow screw it up and report back that I drank ghoul blood for nourishment instead of vampire?

  “Over a dozen years ago, Gregor told me of his vision about a young half-breed who would one day wield the power of pyrokinesis,” Marie said. “After his sire, Tenoch, perished, only one other vampire existed who could manifest fire and bend it to his will, and as you know, Vlad Tepesh was no ally of Gregor’s. Gregor assumed you’d come into this power about a century after you’d been changed into a vampire, and he intended to have you under his control long before that. Yet you killed him using fire within a month of your turning.”

  I didn’t move, afraid that my slightest gesture would betray me. “Everyone knows that,” I said as calmly as I could. “Beginner’s luck.”

  A sharp laugh came from her. “Then, curiously, you weren’t reported to use fire again, even when you were in dire circumstances. You were reported to have used telekinesis against a group of vampires in Monaco a few months ago. So that’s two incredible powers, all manifested less than a year after your changing. More beginner’s luck?”

  “I’m a lucky girl,” I said, thinking if I were still part human, I’d be puking from stress right now.

  Marie glanced at the glass of blood in her hand before meeting my gaze. “Let’s find out,” she said, her Southern accent chan
ging until it sounded like hundreds of voices suddenly spoke through her, and none of them friendly.

  Bones moved at the same time I did, but an icy blast of power knocked me back into my seat hard enough to topple me over. I came up with knives in both hands, only to have them ripped from my grasp by what felt like razor-sharp claws. In disbelief I saw Bones suspended in midair, shadows swirling around him, his mouth open in a roar that still didn’t drown out the horrible keening noises that filled the room.

  Marie hadn’t moved from her position, that glass of blood still resting on the side of her chair. I started toward her again, only to be met by a wall of ghosts that shot up from the ground, their features indistinct due to their sheer numbers. When I tried to push past them, it felt like they slashed my body with thousands of razors, but worse than that, my energy drained away as abruptly as it had at dawn when I was first changed. Pain radiated in me from my boots to my eyebrows. I looked down, expecting to be covered in blood, but only a faint smudge of dirt marred my front even though I felt like I’d pass out.

  “Stop,” I gasped to Marie.

  She shrugged. “Make me. Call forth fire, or knock this drink from my hand with your mind, and I will.”

  Bitch! Rage filled me as Bones was flung against the wall by those malevolent shadows. He wasn’t shouting anymore. He looked, frighteningly, like he was trying to speak but couldn’t. His features twisted as he struggled, more searing pain flashing through me, but not mine this time. How could these ghosts be able to inflict so much damage? Fabian couldn’t even poltergeist up a limp version of a handshake!

  My gaze narrowed as I looked at Marie. It had to be her power enabling the ghosts to do this, what with how her voice sounded like a microphone to the grave and the icy, vibrating waves pouring off her. Even though I hadn’t manifested as much as a spark recently, I still tried to turn my anger into flames, picturing Marie, that fluffy chair, and even the package of chicken by her feet bursting into a fiery inferno. Burn. Burn.