Black Arts

by Faith Hunter

  What if she thought I was mad at her for not calling before and thought the best way to get me over my hurt feelings was to show up on the doorstep? And what if someone was watching for her and took her as soon as she got to the city . . . ?

  But why? Why take her? Why take the girls? But Molly had gone back to her hotel room. Slept there. Or . . . someone had switched the pillows. Left the damp towel. Taken her things. Left a note Molly had been forced to write.

  “No . . .” The pillows on my first visit to the hotel had been blinding white. On the second visit they had been cream colored. The pillows had been full of Molly’s scent, but I hadn’t bothered to sniff the sheets. Someone had exchanged the pillowcases, and I had been so scent-involved I hadn’t noticed it until now.

  It all fit. And I was an idiot. I cursed under my breath.

  I turned back to Eli and Jodi. “And Leo was planning a swearing-in ceremony at his soiree, to welcome in all the new scions, but Adrianna caused a scene and someone got in through security, so he called that part off. What if—” I stopped and waved that thought away before it was fully formed. I had been about to ask what if Leo was in on it, but that made no sense and Leo always made sense even if it was only vamp sense.

  “What if Shiloh was one of the new scions?” I asked instead. “What if he didn’t know she was an Everhart? Her last name was Stone.” The pieces were there, but still suspended, hanging in space. Waiting for . . . something. But what? “Do you have a picture?” I asked Jodi. “A picture of Shiloh?”

  Jodi walked to the center whiteboard and removed the center photograph, one of three she had been studying the last time I had come to see her. Crap. She had been researching Shiloh, probably ever since I mentioned her. The girl in the faded photo was about fifteen, with long straight red hair and dark eyes. And a pointy, not quite perfect nose. I handed it to Alex and the Kid twirled his tablet so I could see the photo taken as the girls rode away from the party. The red hair and the nose were a good match for Shiloh. I pulled my cell and started to dial Del, but remembered that there was no reception in the bowels of NOPD’s woo-woo room. I didn’t ask permission as I picked up a landline and dialed Adelaide’s number.

  “Adelaide Mooney,” she answered.

  Fury whipped through me; unexpectedly, I felt pelt abrading my skin. “Primo,” I spat, trying to keep the threat out of my voice. “Tell me about Shiloh Everhart Stone.”

  Adelaide huffed a breath. “What are you? Psychic? I just put it together. We had her as Shiloh E. Stone. She wasn’t one of Leo’s scions, but just another rescued scion from a failed blood family.”

  All the domino/puzzle pieces shifted again and even before I asked, I saw the picture they all made, and I knew the answers. “It’s all my fault,” I said.

  I settled slowly to the floor, cradling the landline receiver to my cheek. Idiot, idiot, idiot. I should have put it together the moment Leo said Shoffru had come for the diamond.

  “The party at Guilbeau’s was hosted by one Bancym M’lareil,” Del said, “but we believe that being was an agent of, or an alias of, Jack Shoffru. We think he was after a lot of things, the Damours’ estate and real properties, the Damours’ scions, and when he tracked down the scions, that meant that he also had info on Shiloh. And who she was before she was turned.

  “And he brought, to the party at Guilbeau’s, Molly Everhart, as his guest. I just discovered that from one of the attendees.”

  My heart plummeted and thumped painfully before settling into a fast, irregular beat.

  “I’m. . . I’m so sorry, Jane. I should have looked into it earlier.”

  It all made sense. I closed my eyes. And it was all about the Damours’ estate—the most important and powerful part of the estate—the blood diamond. Except that Jack thought Molly had the black magic jewel because she had been there, on camera when Evangelina died. It never occurred to him that I had it until much later, after he had Molly, and had drunk from her often enough to learn most of her secrets. And because Jack hadn’t come directly for me already, Molly had somehow kept that from him for a long while.

  Earlier, I had considered the possibility that Shoffru had hired someone to search out something. There had been plenty of time for a good detective to put together the events the night the Damours died. A good investigator—maybe like Reach—would come up with my name in about two seconds of research. Was Reach working for someone else and giving them info on Molly? On me? I could end up hating Reach, if he was involved with this in any way.

  I loathed that gem. It was cursed.

  Almost as bad, there were other magical toys from the time of the Damours and the blood magic they practiced on Saint Domingue, and later in Louisiana, like the charms used on the two humans who attacked my house. And maybe someone had even more of them and was using them, just as the vamps had used them in Natchez. Maybe they were using something that helped mask the killer inside vamp HQ when he killed Hawk Head.

  It all made sense if Molly knew that Shiloh was alive—undead—when . . . What? Jack, maybe, called her in Asheville, and told her, and maybe told her he already had the girl, even though he didn’t. Yeah. It all made sense if Molly had come to save her niece from him. And with Molly his captive, Jack had gotten Shiloh, taken her—after the party.

  “Talk to me, Del,” I said. “I think Shiloh and Molly and Bliss and Rachael may all be in Shoffru’s hands.”

  Adelaide hesitated for a moment as if weighing the wisdom of giving me more info, and then she swore softly. “I got most of this secondhand. But after the Damours were brought to the sun,” which was vamp for killed true-dead, and this by my hand, “Leo found the Damours’ lairs and confiscated all their chained scions. The long-chained ones were taken care of by Gee DiMercy.” Which meant the ones who had been insane for more than twenty years had been killed. I thrust out my jaw, trying to decide if the Mercy Blade was really merciful or just another killer like me.

  “The others, well, when you finished with the problems and the hoopla in Asheville, Lincoln sent a first-generation Shaddock Mithran home with Leo. They’ve been using that Mithran’s blood to bring some of the witches caught in the devoveo to health and sanity. Leo wanted to make sure it worked before he announced it, and then he wanted to make a big production of it as a way to impress the European Council,” she said. “As a way to keep them from coming. But the timing didn’t work.”

  “Holy crap,” I breathed. “The night of the Guilbeau’s party, Shoffru already had Molly under his control. He was tailing Molly’s niece, the blood-child of the Damours, who, according to vamp law, was part of their estate, and who he probably knew was a witch, and who shouldn’t be sane yet because of that. If he was in with, or at least talking to, the Damours before I killed them true-dead, he probably also knew her history and her full name. But either way, he knew who she was—he had to—and therefore who she was related to—Molly.”

  “And so, he wants Molly, why?” Del asked, sounding confused.

  And there it was. I took a slow breath and said, “Leo drank it out of Shoffru. I guess he didn’t tell you. I have a piece of the Damour estate. I have the blood diamond, a black magic artifact, powered for centuries by the souls of sacrificed witch children.” I heard a hiss in the doorway and opened my eyes, looking up from the floor to see Jodi standing there, shock forming on her face.

  “Is it in a safe location?” Del asked, her voice cutting, lawyer-sharp.

  “Yeah. It’s safe.” I stared into Jodi’s eyes, seeing the betrayal, the fury starting to form. Yet, inside me, the pieces continued falling into place, and I almost saw the picture they made . . . if . . . “Del? How many people knew about the young Damours vamps being brought out of the devoveo?”

  “Everyone,” she whispered. “Everyone.”

  I closed my eyes. The last of the uncertainty and anger filtered out of me, leaving an empty hole in the center of my gut. Everyone knew. Everyone but me. Because I had been out of the loop, hiding away from Leo b
ecause he had hurt me and I was bound to him. And now Molly and Shiloh were in danger because of it. And somehow, possibly, though I couldn’t see how now, the vamps-into-dust problem could be—had to be?—related. Because Shoffru had been part of the Damour clan? Yeah. So he probably had some black magic mojo artifacts himself. Like something to make the magical blips on the security cameras in Leo’s HQ during the party. I dropped my head and cussed again, softly, under my breath.

  I heard shoes tapping quietly on the floor and Jodi appeared at my side, her dancing shoes in my field of vision. She reached down and put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly. My face must have been a mess for her to do the whole pat-pat, there-there thing, especially after I kept info from her. Jodi didn’t do girlie any better than I did most times. And it must really be bad for her to be kind when she was so angry.

  “If people would just tell me things,” I whispered. Louder, my voice sounding tired, I said, “I need any and all addresses for the Damours’ estate property. Send them to my cell. And tell Leo that he was right. Shoffru is after the blood diamond and he now knows everything Leo knows about it. He lured Molly here to get it only to discover that she didn’t have it. And he knew about Shiloh and he took her after the party at Guilbeau’s. At some point, he and Adrianna got together and shared blood, and went to work together. By now Shoffru may know I have it. I’m surprised he hasn’t contacted me to demand it in exchange for Molly and Shiloh.”

  Though I had to think that Leo had put all that together already and was using me to get rid of Shoffru for him. I shook that thought away and went on. “Shoffru is using the people closest to me to get the diamond.” I closed my eyes. “Del? Wake Leo up. Tell him that I’ll give Shoffru anything he wants to keep them safe. Understand?”

  “Not really,” Del said, sounding all prim, proper, and lawyerly again, “but I think from your tone that Leo will understand perfectly. I don’t have the Damours’ estate addresses at my fingertips. I’m still trying to get settled here and learn my way around. But I’ll send you the addresses and coordinates of the lairs the moment I get them, along with the addresses of any locales where Jack Shoffru has been seen or might lair.”

  It could be too little too late, but it was a start to making sense of the vamp-into-dust problem, the missing Bliss and Rachael problem, and finding Molly. I forced a smile, my lips feeling stiff and thin as I focused on Jodi. “Thanks. I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Yeah. You better,” she said. “And if humans are in danger in my city, you let me in on the action. Understood?”

  I nodded. I understood perfectly. And I had no intention of obeying her. I wouldn’t be calling in any law enforcement until I had done what needed doing, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I was learning to control my big mouth.

  I hung up the phone and looked at my pals. The Kid’s head was still bowed over the tablet, a smear of black and gold visible on the screen, oddly familiar. I pushed myself to my feet and said to Jodi and Eli, “I need to talk to Bruiser and Big Evan. And then we’re going to find and rescue Molly and Shiloh Everhart Stone, the newest vamp in New Orleans. And probably Bliss and Rachael too.”

  I had finally understood what was going on. But more important, I had finally understood what I was, who I was. I was War Woman. And this was my fight.

  CHAPTER 19

  Beast’s Angel Tolded Me So

  My bike was on the back porch, bent, busted, and twisted. Paint was scored off to reveal asphalt-scraped metal beneath, like the worst case of road rash in Harley history. The front wheel was a goner. It looked as if I had hit the curb head-on. The body was bent, as if I’d wrapped it around a light pole. Oil and gas dripped with a silent splat, leaking out like blood, to pool on the cardboard someone had placed beneath, like a blood-soaked mattress on a death bed. My bike smelled like petroleum products and burned rubber and defeat.

  The Kid patted my shoulder and went inside, leaving Eli behind with me, his thumbs in his jeans pockets. Silent.

  I squatted and placed a hand on her gas tank. Her once-smooth skin felt rough under my fingertips, cold. The mountain lion claws painted on the gas tank were mangled. The bike was . . . broken. “Oh, Bitsa. I am so sorry,” I whispered.

  “We can ship her to North Carolina and get the original mechanic to work on her,” Eli said softly behind me. “You told me he’s a genius.”

  “He’s like a Zen Harley master,” I said, hearing the grief and acceptance in my voice. “Nobody works with bikes like him. Yeah, he can fix her. Eventually. If I get you his address, can you handle the shipping?”

  “Yep.”

  I stood. “Okay.” I looked from my broken bike to Eli and felt some of the heaviness lift off me. “You’re awfully nice for a big bad fighting machine.”

  “Let’s keep that between us, okay, Legs?” He gave the twitch of a smile that was his version of a belly laugh. “I got a rep to maintain with Uncle Sam’s second finest.”

  I figured he meant Derek and his Marines cohorts. “Deal. Thanks.”

  “Your fancy new boots are already back at vamp HQ. Adelaide is returning them to the company for repair or replacement. Your ruined clothes are in your room. And it’s no wonder you’re single. No lace, no black silk. I gotta tell you. I was terribly disappointed.”

  “That breaks my heart. Not.” I shrugged. “I’m kinda hard on clothes,” I admitted.

  “Yeah. I noticed. Go see George. He was in pretty bad shape too, maybe worse than your plain cotton undies, but I think he’ll survive.” Eli opened the door and held it for me, grinning enough to actually show some teeth. “For next Christmas, I’m buying you some decent underwear.”

  “You mean indecent underwear.”

  “You know me so well,” Eli chuckled, the sound filling the yard with amusement. I left him on the porch and entered the house.

  • • •

  I stood, looking down at Bruiser, sleeping on my couch. He was scarred, pale, and looked like death warmed over, but he was alive, breathing evenly, his eyes moving in REM sleep, Angie Baby sitting next to him, holding his hand. “He’s gonna be okay, Aunt Jane,” she said, her face solemn and encouraging, nodding like an adult health-care worker, trying to assure a family that a loved one was healing. “He’s hurt but he’s gettin’ better. Daddy played his flute for him, and I’m helpin’ make him better too. Can you see?”

  She took my hand and instantly I could. I could see healing energies moving like a stream reflecting back a starry black sky, from Angie’s fingers into Bruiser. The stream was magic, Angelina’s magic. Magic she shouldn’t even have yet, let alone be able to use. “Angie,” I asked, “does your daddy know you’re healing Bruiser?”

  “No, ma’am.” She shook her head, red-blond curls swinging. “Don’t tell him, okay? Him and Mommy’s both scared of my magic.”

  Ohhh. This isn’t good. I let myself slide to the floor beside Angie. “They’re not scared of you, Angie. They’re not scared of your magic. They just want you to grow up some before you use it, so you don’t make mistakes and get hurt or hurt someone else.”

  “And so the special policemen don’t come and take me away,” she added solemnly. “I heard them talking a bunch a times. The policemen will take me away from them if they find out I got my magic before I’m all growed up. But Uncle Ricky Bo knows and he isn’t taking me away.”

  “Oh . . . Angie.” I took her free hand in mine and scooted closer on the floor. How was I going to fix this? “It’s just not fair for you to have to deal with all this when you are so little. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not little anymore, Aunt Jane. I’m seven years old now. I had a birthday party and everything, but you didn’t come to it. Why didn’t you come to my birthday party?”

  I laughed through my nose, silently, knowing I was wrapped around Angie Baby’s finger and she was using that to her advantage. “Your mama was still mad at me. I bought you a present, though. I sent it to you.”

  “Ka Nvista’s new dress
.” She nodded. “It was pretty. I left it at home. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Baby. Not a thing. But for now, I want you to stop trying to heal Bruiser, okay? And stop using your magic when you don’t absolutely have to.”

  Angie tilted her in perplexity, her eyebrows drawing together. “But people need me, Aunt Jane. I’m supposed to help. It’s why I’m here. Beast’s angel tolded me so.”

  Beast’s angel? Hayyel? That interaction between the angel and the people gathered in the room in Evangelina’s house, not long before I killed the witch, had lasted all of five heartbeats. A single moment of bright light and darkest chaos, the sound of swords clashing, and the scream of darkest evil fighting a blinding, killing light. But in that single moment, the angel had done a lot of things, and I was nowhere near figuring out what all he had done or how to undo any of it.

  I wanted to say, Angie, do you know what the word inscrutable means? ’Cause God is inscrutable. He gave us life with no promises. And that life sometimes just slaps us silly for no reason, out of the blue, and leaves us to deal with the problems. Sink or swim. But Angie wasn’t ready to hear all that. And how did you tell a kid that the angel who talked to her might have his own agenda and that what the angel wanted might not be the best thing for the nonangelic?

  I was getting in too deep with this. I was floundering. “Ummm, the angel didn’t mean you had to do it all now,” I said softly. Yeah. That sounded good. “Aaaaand . . . um . . . the angel wants you to grow up a lot more first.”

  Angie straightened her head and grinned at me. “You’re funny, Aunt Jane.” But she let go of Bruiser’s hand and the black motes of dazzling magic vanished. Relief shuddered through me like a jackhammer. Angie went on. “Mommy’s hurt. She was okay, but she’s not okay now. You gotta go help her.”

  My heart crawled up my throat on pounding feet. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with her?” I asked.