by Faith Hunter
Edmund slid his hand up my arms to my cradle my face. He bit his lip and said, “I can heal the bruising. If you’ll let me.”
I knew he meant kiss me, mixing his blood deeper with mine, sharing breath. I hesitated, and Ed shook his head, amused. “I am under orders not to attempt to bind you or seduce you.”
“Yeah, that’d be smart. Three’s a crowd,” Eli said, “and I got these. Two big silver ones.”
If I hadn’t been hurting, I’d have groaned at the double entendre. Instead I lifted my hand in acquiescence and Edmund bent his head, easing my face to the side and letting his chilly lips meet mine. Despite his promise, the heat of seduction was part of vampire blood sharing. His heat swirled into me, rushing from his cool mouth through my lips, down to my bruised hands and sore wrists, circling my ribs and tightening my breasts. Pooling in my middle. Moving down my body. Pain vanished where the heat reached. I sighed into his mouth and he took my life force into his lungs, our breath mixing, becoming one thing, one breath, one life—as much as undead can share life. When I breathed in, our commingled breath fed me. And suddenly the pain was gone. Just gone. And there was only the warmth of his lips, flesh to flesh. Nothing of passion or need. Just healing.
Edmund eased back. My lids lifted and I opened my eyes, as I whispered, “Thank you.”
“No.” His eyes, fully human, and a light, hickory-nut brown, held mine. “My thanks to you. I have never tasted blood such as yours.”
The sound track had moved to “Black Night,” the guitar licks complex and amazing. Edmund stood and stared down at me. “My master suggested you might enjoy a shower before joining him in his study. A maid will bring you a change of clothes and clean out a locker here for you, to use at any time you might wish.”
“A shower might be smart,” I said. “Walking around a vamp house smelling of blood and fighting sounds pretty stupid.” I stood, feeling stronger, though I knew I’d be stiff in the morning. Even my skinwalker metabolism wasn’t proof against a vamp beating.
“How’s Bruiser?” I asked, and then clarified, “George Dumas.”
“He is well. The priestess saw to his shoulder joint. His Onorio blood will do the rest.” Edmund’s mouth turned down and he looked grim. “Things are changing in New Orleans.” With that bland, vague warning, Edmund Hartley left the locker room.
• • •
While Eli stood guard outside the door, I showered, using guest-sized samples of soap. Afterward, I slathered some lime-scented cream on my wet skin and dried off on the towels Eli had found. By the time I was done, the maid had delivered a change of clothes and taken my sweaty, bloody ones off to be laundered. I pulled on the undies, finding it mildly unnerving that Leo had my sizes on hand. It made sense, however. He paid for my formal wear, the fancy duds created by a wizened virago of a blood-servant who terrified me, but who made me look good in clothes that were made for soldiers—people who wear and carry weapons. So he might keep stuff here for nights like tonight. Or he might be having nefarious thoughts. I was betting on nefarious.
Beside the undies was a stack of black clothing—slim pants and a body-hugging, black silk, knit sweater. The sweater had a long turtleneck, which I didn’t usually care for, but the neck on this one was wide and rolling and fell around my collarbones. The pants were just plain stupid. Who needed a zipper on the side? It was hard to get zipped and made me twist like a pretzel before I got the zipper up and the tiny inside buttons done. But when I looked in the mirror, I could see how long, lean, and dangerous the slacks made me look, and the turtleneck did things for my boobs that were surprising. Yeah. I was still going with nefarious.
The black socks and slippers were so comfortable I might never want to take them off, but they’d be impossible to fight in. Back in the center area of the locker room, I dried and rebraided my hair, twisted it up into a bun, and stuck my stakes in to hold it in place. I also strapped on my shin sheaths and wrist sheaths. The blade that went on my thigh looked good strapped a bit higher than I usually wore it. I checked myself again and wished for lipstick. I looked stark and pale in all the black. I pulled my gold nugget necklace to the front and nestled it, and the mountain lion tooth I’d wired to it, into the folds. The glint of gold added a hint of color and brought out the amber of my eyes.
Beast wasn’t staring through my eyes now. No golden glow. She had hidden away since the fight. But she and I were gonna have a little talk later about how I was able to make use of Leo’s binding on her. Something was hinky here.
I composed my face and pushed out into the hallway. Eli was no longer alone. Wrassler stood with him, face expressionless, leaning against the wall; both guys seeming relaxed. “Are you here to throw me out or take me to Leo?” I asked. “Because I need to chat with the chief fanghead.”
“Yeah. He’s all excited about that,” Wrassler said, deadpan, pointing, indicating we should go to the elevator.
“Should I be worried?” I asked as we moved down the hallway.
Wrassler’s forehead lifted up into little rolls. “About what? You just wiped the floor with the second or third best fighter the Mithrans in the Americas have.”
“Who’s better?” Eli asked.
“Grégoire for sure. Maybe a couple others could beat Leo in a purely physical fight. But not if he drew on the power of the clans. Then only Grégoire would win. Maybe.”
I had felt Leo draw on the power of the clans before, the night Adrianna attacked me in the bathroom at a vamp party. It had been terrifying. Leo hadn’t done that tonight, so yeah, I had beat him, but really, if he’d used all his metaphysical weapons or his weapons of war, like if he had challenged me to a duel with swords or flintlock pistols, I probably wouldn’t have. Of course, if I’d brought my silver blades, and maybe a rocket launcher, Leo would have lost no matter what psycho mystical crap he might have pulled. It was all a matter of spin and possibilities and stuff that hadn’t happened. But physically? Hand to hand? I’d beat the MOC to the ground. Oh yeah. Satisfaction flitted through me mixed with delight. I wondered if Leo had been surprised about ending up on the floor, and looked forward to finding out.
The elevator closed on us. “How’s Bruiser?” I asked, wanting to confirm Edmund’s information.
“Healing,” Wrassler said shortly. His tone told me that he didn’t want to talk about it, but from the stiffness of his shoulders, I knew he wasn’t happy about something. “How often does Leo put on a show and beat up his people?” I asked.
Wrassler’s mouth thinned. “I’ve been here for years. Never saw or heard of it till tonight.”
“I see.” But I didn’t. Not really. Unless the show hadn’t been intended for me. Unless it was for someone else. Not Bruiser. He could have beaten up Bruiser anytime. So . . . someone else. Someone in the stands. Watching. And since he hadn’t drawn on the massed clan power, he had wanted that special someone to see his primo get beaten and then see him fight a skinwalker, win or lose. Even if he lost, it could work to his benefit. All without drawing on the power of the clans. He wanted someone to think he was a weaker master than he was. Maybe he also wanted that someone to think that Bruiser was out of favor. So he beat up his primo as part of some kind of vamp game? Interesting. Sick, but interesting.
Vamps had layers of plans piled up like sheets of snow and ice, some in the works for centuries. So maybe I was seeing one or two layers in the fight tonight. I just didn’t know the context. Or why. Or who. Or what was to come next.
Eli and I entered Leo’s office, walking through the wide entrance, Eli taking in everything. His shoulders tightened ever so slightly and I knew he wanted to look behind the tapestries on the walls, to make sure no one was hiding there. But even he seemed to know that might be kinda rude, because he forced his shoulders back down.
Looking awfully good for a guy who had just been beaten to a pulp, Leo was studying a printout while another page clattered in a printer in the open armoire. The rest of the armoire was filled with files, papers, and she
aves, and it smelled of parchment and ink, a lot like Leo himself. Inside me, Beast yawned and stretched, watching Leo through my eyes, like a well-fed and satisfied cat, lazy and taking no action. Moving slowly, Leo pulled the printed page, added it to the ones in his stack, and turned them facedown. He shut the armoire door and spun his modern chair to face us. “Sit, please,” he said. We sat in two of the three chairs in front of the desk, and he said, “Report.”
I gave him an update on the security status of vamp HQ, in preparation of the gather, and finished with “We still have to go over the changes to parking area security, and we have two choices. We can let the limos drive to the front door and let off their passengers, then park on the street, or we can let them drive in back, park, and get out there and walk in. Parking on the street is safer for us and can be arranged with NOPD, but that means no privacy from the press and telescopic camera lenses. The second is way less formal and parking in the back means we could have a car bomb or other device in the backyard.”
Still moving slowly, Leo put his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers, tapping his lips with them as he thought. And I realized he was moving, not just slowly, but stiffly. I smiled, feeling my lips pull up in wicked glee. Leo was sore. Go, me.
“Can you get access to a bomb-sniffing dog?” Leo asked.
Still smiling, I narrowed my eyes and Leo inclined his head. I had suggested a bomb-sniffing dog once already and been denied. “I am sure one can be borrowed from the Federal Aviation Administration or NOPD or some other local law enforcement.”
“Excellent. Then we will direct all vehicles to the back until the lot there is full. Any latecomers drive through, let off passengers, and then park elsewhere. Security from the other clans can patrol the outlying areas, freeing Derek and his crew and my own clan security crew to patrol inside the council house. There will be no need to involve NOPD.”
Behind him and to the side, the door opened and Adelaide entered, carrying a tray with a teapot, a coffee carafe, and cups. Del, a lawyer, doing waitress service? And then I saw the marks on her neck, tiny, nearly hidden by the high collar of her shirt, but there. I took a slow breath, and over the vamp scent of Leo and the strong odors of the beverages, I smelled human blood. My hands clenched. Leo had fed from her and was now, likely, breaking her in.
I stood and took the tray from Del and set it down, and as I rose, I took her wrist, stopping her from pulling away. She stared at my hand on her arm for a long moment before meeting my gaze. “I’m fine,” she said, no emotion in her voice.
“Reading my mind?”
“No. I know you. You’re worried about me. You’re worried about Leo using me.” Her eyes were a cornflower blue in the lamplight, matching the tiny flowers in her shirt. But she didn’t look worried or afraid or sad or abused. She looked . . . shuttered. Closed. Detached. Determined. I couldn’t read anything more specific. “Leo and I have come to an agreement,” she said.
“What kind of agreement?”
She looked pointedly at my hand and I released her wrist, sitting on the edge of my chair. “He has tasted me. He knows I don’t have an agenda regarding him. He knows his home, his office, and his body are safe from me. He is satisfied. And he will not demand a sexual relationship with me.”
“What makes you so special?” I asked. Leo always demanded to sleep with his people. He considered it a vamp perk.
“I threatened to sue,” she said in the same emotionless tone. She smoothed her skirt, giving me a chance to swallow my shock and the bark of laughter, which would probably have ticked Leo off. “After some discussion, he considered it likely that I would win,” Del went on, “and that such a lawsuit would bring unwanted attention.”
Leo raised a single imperious eyebrow at us, probably for talking about him as if he were not in the room.
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”
A slight smile, one that would have done Eli proud for its minimalist style, found her lips. “We are now discussing the end of his demands on his female servants and scions. He was unaware that such practices are antiquated”—she glanced at Leo and her smile widened—“and against the law.”
“Enough,” Leo said. He pointed to the other chair. “Sit.”
“Of course,” Del said. And suddenly I got it. I beat Leo on the workout floor, but it was really Adelaide Mooney who was beating him senseless. Who’da thunk it? And go, Adelaide!
“I now will accept questions,” Leo said.
I blinked in surprise. He would? “Uhhh . . . ,” I said. Great rejoinder.
Eli said, “Why did you beat your primo to a pulp? Just for starters.”
Leo held the Ranger with his eyes. “My primo has been acting contrary to my needs. He has placed another’s needs before my own.”
“And?” I asked, feeling that there had to be more to it.
“Onorios cannot be bound,” Leo said simply.
It hit me hard and fast. Bruiser had told me he was free of Leo. Bruiser had told me a lot, but I hadn’t put it all together. Onorios were rare, nearly impossible to make, and were considered free agents, as well as highly valued. They could stay with a master, but they couldn’t be forced to do or be anything. And their master had a dickens of a time reading their minds. Which meant that Leo would be looking for a new primo and a new Enforcer. And I realized that Enforcer likely meant me. “No.”
“I was not thinking of you, mon petit chaton avec les griffes, though I will have you assist in his training when he is chosen.”
“Yeah.” He’d called me that in the fight, and I had no idea what he was talking about, but I also wasn’t going to ask. “Right. Okay. My turn. Adrianna attacked my house. What do you know about that?”
Leo’s head went to the side. “Really?” He drew out the word into multiple syllables. He hadn’t known, which gave me all sorts of relief. “The enemies of my Enforcer sew dissidence in my ranks. I will deal with this.” He nodded at Adelaide. An electronic tablet appeared from a pocket as if she were some kind of prestidigitator, and she made notes.
“My friend Molly Everhart is in town and is missing,” I said. “I left you a voice mail. You didn’t answer. Do you know where she is?”
“The witch,” Leo said, sounding bored.
“Molly was taken from her hotel room by three vamps I didn’t recognize.”
“You saw these Mithrans?” He looked interested.
“No,” I said flatly. “I smelled them.”
Leo nodded. “Scent is much more difficult to distort and hide. The witch is of no concern to me unless she encroaches upon what is mine. And no. I do not know where she is.” Since Molly couldn’t do anything to Leo, that seemed to eliminate her from the MOC’s threat list, but I had hoped for a proactive approach. On to other topics while I had the MOC’s attention. “Adrianna attacked my house. And two of Katie’s girls are missing—Bliss and Rachael. They disappeared after a vamp party at Guilbeau’s, on their way to a party at Arceneau Clan Home. Did you know all that?” Leo’s head lifted, his eyes intent on me. I had a feeling I had surprised him again. “They left with two others, in a chartered black cab limo, and one was a redheaded female. Behind them, tailing them, was a personal limo, with a male in back. He had a narrow beard.” I drew it again on my jaw. “And what might be a gold earring.”
Leo’s eyes went unfocused, but I had a feeling a lot was going on behind them. “Shoffru,” he said.
“Could be, yeah. Jack Shoffru.”
Suddenly I was in Leo’s sights. It was a little like having a couple of blazing torches pointed at my eyeballs. Not comfy. “What do you know of Jack Shoffru?” he asked, his voice curious, silky with threat.
“Not much.” I filled him in on the little I knew, and ended with “He knew Lafitte. And since he hung out in New Orleans in the seventeen and eighteen hundreds, you probably knew him.”
Leo’s face took on an expression of mild disdain. “We did not travel in the same social circles.”
A pirate w
as beneath the Pellissiers. Got it. “So far as I know, his sire and original clan are unknown.”
“Few mongrels know their sires.”
I grinned, but before I could say anything snarky back, Leo said, “Research his ships. As I remember it, Shoffru and his partner captained two of Lafitte’s fleet, the Ring Leader and the Lady’s Virtue.”
Oddly enough, something about the names of the ships were familiar, but I couldn’t place them.
Leo nodded slowly, thinking, his face creased in concern, an expression he seldom showed to the world. “It is difficult to know how to treat with Adrianna. When I first knew her, she was a vivacious beauty.”
“When I first knew her, she had been working black magic with the Damours,” I said.
Leo didn’t flinch, nothing so human, but something crossed his face. Maybe longing, maybe remorse. He said, “I was powerless to stop them, the Damours. My uncle had signed a . . . a treaty of sorts with them, to leave them alone as long as they left him and his alone. After he found true-death, I was still bound by that contract. Until you came and freed us of it.”
I sat back. Thinking. Blinking in the light that suddenly felt too bright. “So you didn’t go after the Damours because you couldn’t—” I stopped. Leo had used me to break the treaty with the Damours and kill them for their crimes. I hadn’t been his Enforcer back then, which had given me opportunity he hadn’t had. “You sneaky bastard,” I muttered.
Leo inclined his head, a small smile easing the pain on his face. He looked, in that moment, nearly human. “I have been called that. And worse. Though I assure you, I was legitimately conceived and born.”
I waved away the comment. “Okay,” I said, knowing I’d need time to digest all the knowledge he had just given me—freely—which meant there was a hidden cost somewhere, because vamps did nothing without a price tag attached. There was a lot of info I didn’t have yet, but I decided to address this again later when I had my questions in line, and changed the subject from the past to the present. “And the girls missing? And Adrianna?”