by Faith Hunter
“Registered with who?”
“With She Who Claims the Rift.”
She Who Claims the Rift was Soul. “Yeah. Aren’t you sweet.” I wondered if Storm had been on earth long enough to understand sarcasm.
“I have no sweetness,” she said. “I taste of saltness.”
I looked up to see her sitting in the tree in human form, her gauzy gown all shades of gray and lavender, her hair lavender too. She was a shape-shifter, a being of pure energy, who could achieve a state of matter and any form she wanted. Many with big teeth and claws. She was also immature, unsure of her place or her boundaries, yet full of opinions, and aggressively sullen. Like I had been as a teenager.
I had never been able to resist yanking her chain. “Salty. Good to know. In case I get hungry.”
Storm reared back as if insulted. I laughed and glanced upstream for any last sign of Ayatas. He was gone, so I headed back to the sweathouse. I double-checked the fire and picked up the plastic bin containing the undyed gown Grandmother had been wearing. In it I tossed the bloody cloth from my pocket. I wondered if Grandmother knew what could be done with DNA these days.
After I showered, towel-dried my pelt, and redressed, I put my own shift into a separate bin, Monique’s scorched bloody cloth went into a zippy, and I carried them inside the inn, heading to Alex’s domain. On the way, I grabbed leftover quiche from the fridge and munched it down. It hadn’t been there long and was still warm from the oven. I bit in and chewed. Heaven. Next slice would be shrimp.
Alex was sitting at his desk, yawning, a cup of espresso at his elbow.
“Alex, will you send all these to Leo’s lab in Texas for DNA testing? Three samples.”
“Your lab,” he said. “Leo’s dead.”
“Fine. The one with the scorched blood is Monique Giovanni’s. The unscorched one with the blood is to be listed, ‘Unknown.’ It’s Gramma’s.”
He looked up, startled. “Hayalasti Sixmankiller? That gramma?”
“The one and only.” I tapped the one on top, adding, “This one is mine.”
Alex met my gaze, speculation in his. “You sure you want to do that, Janie?”
“No. But we need a comparison, and my brother didn’t leave his loincloth behind.”
“Not a problem.” He pushed my bin back to me. “Wash that. We have your DNA and Ayatas FireWind’s DNA already.” He turned back to the screen.
Carefully, in my best Christian children’s home manners, I swallowed and said, “I beg your pardon?”
Alex ducked his head, his eyes on the screens. His fingers shifting between three of five keyboards. His dark skin carried a greenish tint from the screens, and his spiral curls bounced into his eyes.
“Alex?”
His fingers faltered. “So fuuu . . . reaking not fair.” He blew out an exasperated sigh. “You remember the first day Ayatas showed up? After you coldcocked him, and once he was able to breathe again, we ate a meal?” He stopped.
“I’m listening.”
“I collected your spoon and Ayatas’s fork, and . . . Well. We sent them to this doc at Leo’s lab. He ran both of them. So we have a record of you both already.”
“And you didn’t think that sharing this with me was important?”
“It wasn’t urgent. We didn’t tell Dr. Northern whose it was. So he just put them in with the others, and the tech ran them with the next batch. It took a while. And then you had the Sangre Duello and the cancer and . . . ummm.” He blew out a breath, and the little spiral curls fluttered. “And we got the results. But they didn’t tell us anything we didn’t know. Ayatas is your biological brother, and you both have fuc—messed-up DNA.”
I knew for a fact he had just dumbed down the report for me. “I’ve been in the Rift. Run mine again and get them to run a comparison between my new and my old, as well as against Gramma’s and Ayatas’s.” I slapped the back of his head, and he resisted the grin that wanted to pop out. “No cussing. And this time I want to read the comparison report.”
“Yes, Mooom,” he said, drawling out the word as if it was an insult. “Just so you know, it will take weeks to do a comparison unless we send it as urgent or send it to a specialist genetics lab.”
“Call it urgent. Keep it in-house. And stop treating me like I’m dying.”
“Hard habit to break. You had us terrified.”
“I love you too, bro. I’m grabbing some more leftovers and getting a nap in. See you in a bit.”
* * *
* * *
I didn’t nap well, and I didn’t need much rest in this form, though I did hope falling asleep might allow my body to shift back into my human form. No such luck. Late afternoon, I woke and was still in half-form, but the uncomfortable crown had come off, so that was good. Bruiser’s scent was on the air, letting me know he had checked on me while I slept. A peaceful warmth spread through me. “Coolio,” I murmured, rolling out of bed. I wasn’t used to being loved or having people to care about. I was still practicing all that and experiencing the joy of family.
I had showered at the sweathouse, so I was fast, brushing my fangs, pulling on clean yoga pants and a long-sleeved tee in a washed denim blue color. Makeup, even lipstick, was impossible with a partially pelted face, and I still sucked at putting the stuff on. I checked myself out in the mirror. I still had pawed feet, so shoes were a waste of time. I shrugged at my reflection. “Good to go,” I said to myself.
Beast is good to go. Where are I/we going? Hunting? Beast wants to hunt! Have never hunted in this form. Claws are short. Jane has kit-fangs. Jane should take white man’s gun and knife. Can shoot and cut flesh from prey and eat. Jane will like raw meat.
Erp. No hunting. No raw flesh. “Good to go” is just a saying.
I got the feeling that Beast was disgusted by my response, but she didn’t reply. As I padded down the steps to the main level, I heard Alex saying, “Texted George and Eli. Texting Janie now. Hang on.” My cell in my thigh pocket buzzed just as Eli strode in the back door, pocketing his cell. His body mechanics were all battlefield alert and ready for action. Bruiser entered through the front, also pocketing his cell. This couldn’t be good.
I reached the office first.
“Hey, Janie. Where’s—never mind.” He tapped a button. “Gang’s all here, Wrassler.” To us he added, “HQ security is on FaceTime. You need to see.”
The guys stood behind and to my sides. On the screen, a pixelated image began to form, flickering pale cream and black with a splotch of green in one corner. The video cleared and stabilized, revealing a cemetery, New Orleans style, with mausoleums situated along a white shell drive. The frame scanned around slowly, revealing the vamp graveyard, easily identifiable because all the mausoleums had been scorched in the fire that burned Sabina, the outclan priestess, and sent her into hiding, and also because I had studied this scene often over the last months. The warrior statues on top of each small building had become brittle and fractured, missing arms and hands and one without a head, the base metal of their swords and adornments melted. The videographer paused at the chapel or, rather, where the chapel had once been. It was gone now, just a foundation, blocks blackened and cracked. No one in New Orleans had heard from Sabina. Her last words had suggested that she was burned so badly as to be true dead, even though she was extremely powerful and very advanced in age.
I leaned into Bruiser. He smelled of the winery, the sweetness of grapes he had harvested, pressed, and mixed with other kinds of grapes from other mountain vineyards and now were fermenting in huge stainless steel vats. By the sweetness of new wine on his breath, I deduced that he and Josue had been tasting the red, Bruiser giving the younger man instructions. Bruiser’s arm went around my middle, and he hugged me close. Even after all this time, it was still odd to be close to a man taller than me.
On the screen, the view changed, sweeping slowly back to one mausoleum, the Pellissier crypt, blackened and so heat-damaged the stone was cracked and fragile-looking.
; Wrassler said, “This is why I contacted you, Queenie.” The screen changed as he walked around the small building to the side that was hidden from the road and the chapel. The wall had a hole in it, one not caused by fire. He walked closer, focusing on the damage, and said, “It’s about three feet by two. It appears it was knocked down from outside, maybe with a short battering ram.”
“Why not use the door?” I asked.
“The fire sealed it. The flames were so hot they heated differing materials and fused them together. The result means the door is stronger than the walls.”
I thought, Someone busted in. No one clawed out of the caskets inside and got away. Leo wasn’t alive. Not that I hoped he would rise from the dead again. That was where revenants came from, and they were dangerous as rabid wolves and had to be put down by rogue-vampire hunters. Like what I used to be before I got stuck with the Dark Queen gig. “When?”
“The guard makes a round every six hours. It was like this at noon and she called me. I wanted to check it out before I notified you.”
“Without messing up the debris,” I said, “can you hold the phone inside and let us see the caskets?”
There was some fumbling as someone else turned on a cell flashlight and both cells were held inside the hole. Inside, the caskets were all blackened by heat that had penetrated the walls from outside. Based on the wreckage, there had been five superheated cement vaults, the caskets inside pulled out and dumped onto the floor. The vaults had been busted into chunks and dust; the caskets were ruined, blackened, pitted charcoal, and most were open, empty. There were bits of vamp remains here and there, not much more than pieces of charred skeletons. I’d have expected the bodies to be less intact. Vamps burned easily.
As the cells scanned around, Bruiser’s hold on me had tensed. In the carefully controlled tone of Leo’s primo, Bruiser asked, “Is there any way to tell which one was Leo’s?”
“His was on top,” Wrassler said. “The caskets on bottom were less burned than the ones higher up. So this one,” a finger entered the field of view, “or that one. I can go in and be sure.” He meant be sure that Leo was burned, not taken.
“Don’t go in,” I said before I thought. “We’ll be there before morning.” I didn’t want Wrassler to touch anything. I wanted to see for myself.
Still in the same tone, Bruiser said, “We’ll be there two days early. Make certain that Yellowrock Clan Home is clean and aired out and Jane’s personal residence is also prepared, including the new rooms upstairs.”
“Yes, Consort. Sending teams to prepare.”
“Put two full-time guards on-site at the cemetery, silver ammo, wood stakes, silvered blades, and a silvered cage,” Bruiser said. “They have orders to shoot and stake any Mithran who might approach them, burned or not. Should that occur, they are to toss the body into the cage and contact me directly with photos of the Mithran. I will give orders. Those orders might include a beheading. Make certain the guards understand that.”
“Even if—”
“My master is dead. But even if that isn’t true, he was beheaded. He would rise a revenant. We will not dishonor him by allowing him to continue in that state.”
“Yes, Consort. If a trespasser is human?”
“If it’s the Firestarter, execute her. For any others, the guards may use their own discretion. Make certain they’re also armed with nonlethal weapons that might disable humans.”
“Yes, Consort.”
The video ended and Bruiser stepped away from me. “My Queen, I will finish the packing and have your jet prepped for flight.”
Packing. All the suitcases piled on the floor for Wrassler and Jodi’s wedding in just a few days. Right. And I hadn’t said a word to Wrassler about the wedding. I’m an idiot. “Yeah. Sure. Thanks.”
Without looking back, Bruiser walked from the room, his footsteps tapping up the stairs.
Eli was watching me. I could feel his eyes. When I didn’t look his way he said, “He called Leo my master.”
“I heard,” I said, staring at the screen where, only a moment ago, there had been a view of Leo’s desecrated tomb.
Eli said, “Grief is a peculiar thing. It can hit out of nowhere and knock you off your feet. Take you back to another time and place. Another part of yourself.”
I nodded but didn’t reply to his wisdom, instead changing the subject. “I read the Onorio’s mind. Monique’s, not Bruiser’s.”
Eli tilted his head the barest fraction, visible in my extreme peripheral vision. “How?”
“I rubbed a little of her blood into the Glob and onto my crown, and I touched her.”
“Guesswork? What if she had taken you over?”
I shrugged and said, “I’d have broken her neck.”
“Good answer. Still. That was stupid.”
“Yeah. Next time I’ll make sure you’re there. But she was secured with null cuffs that I duct-taped in place. And I got info.”
“I’m listening.”
I turned to face Eli and told him what I had learned from our prisoner. With a battle-worthy smile, he said, “We should take Monique Giovanni with us. She might be enough of a lure to bring out the Firestarter.”
I chuckled, and though it sounded tired and worn, I managed to add, “Make it so, number one. Oh. You may need a stretcher. I think I broke her.”
Eli gave me that rare, full grin, flashing pearly white teeth. “Good. We got this, babe. It’ll be fine.”
I didn’t believe it. Not with the words my master falling so easily from Bruiser’s lips. Silently, I climbed the stairs and entered our suite. Bruiser wasn’t packing. He was staring out the windows at the hills, arms crossed over his middle. I stood in the doorway, watching him, the tightness of his shoulders, the angle of his head, looking out and down.
“I want him to be dead,” Bruiser said, his voice laced with the softness of grief that Eli had mentioned. “I want Leo to be dead because if he is not, and if he has risen as a revenant, I will have to find him and kill him.”
It was much the same thoughts I’d had about Grandmother. But I wasn’t sure why Bruiser had the “kill Leo job.” That was my job.
I crossed the room to him, standing with my shoulder touching his. Together we looked out over the quiet, peaceful vineyard and the hills beyond. I didn’t know much about the way love turned to hate in people, but I had seen it often enough. I let him talk.
“His death as a revenant would fall to me as his former primo. That responsibility was assigned to me when I accepted the position and was part of my contract with him.”
“And if he rose sane?” I asked.
“If Leo is twice risen, thrice born, and if he rose in his right mind, he would have gone directly to the Mithran Council Chambers, where he would likely have challenged you to take back his city.” Bruiser let go of himself, turned, and pulled me slowly into his arms. “Yet he has done nothing. He has not appeared. There are no reports of feeding massacres. He has not shown up at the place of his power in the city.” His arms tightened around me.
“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do. He was my friend.” He massaged his temples with one hand for a moment, as if he had a headache, before he put his arm around me again and dropped his head to mine. “I loved him once, but that was a long time ago. I will end him if I think he is trying to harm you. I will drain my former master into my slave. And that might . . .” He took a breath that quivered softly. “That will either break me or make me just like him.”
I hugged him tightly.
CHAPTER 6
Whoopie Dang Do
An hour before sunset, Bruiser and Eli loaded the luggage into a suburban, readying clothes and gear to be taken to the airport. As they sweated and grunted, I watched and twiddled my thumbs and ground my teeth. I really hated the Dark Queen’s official jobs and lack of real jobs. I wanted to be hauling luggage. Which was stupid.
I realized I was bored. And that made me grind my teeth even more. I was the DQ. I sh
ould be able to do what I wanted. But I couldn’t. I watched them drive away to the airport, leaving me safely in my quarters. Frustrated, I decided to eat a snack. A dozen eggs and big bowl of oatmeal sounded good. I needed the protein and complex carbs. Maybe I’d put a pile of sugar on the oatmeal.
* * *
* * *
They were back at the inn by the time the vamps woke at sunset, and we loaded everyone into SUVs and headed to the airport. There were hungry vamps in the two leading Suburbans—Kojo and Thema, Koun, Tex, and their human breakfasts. I still had to deal with the whole “Kojo and Thema drinking but not sharing blood for healing” thing. In the middle SUV were Bruiser, the Younger brothers, and me, all of us heavily armed in case we were attacked on the way to Asheville. Monique Giovanni, still unconscious and securely shackled, and her guards rode in the fourth vehicle. In the last vehicle was the remaining luggage, things everyone forgot to pack and just had to have. The five-vehicle caravan wove down the hilly roads. It would be a miracle if the Learjet didn’t fall out of the sky with the weight of us and all the stuff.
Except we didn’t board the Lear. When we stopped, it was in front of a bigger aircraft.
Bruiser said, “It is a PC-24, Pilatus charter jet. It’s big enough to carry us and all of our luggage. And it is almost as fancy inside as your Lear,” he added. “Go on. Check it out. We’ll wait.”
I climbed the outside flight stairs and stepped inside the hatch. A human met me there and flinched only a little when he saw my furred and muscular self, all broad shoulders and knobby knuckles. And all the weapons. I did look kinda scary, so I didn’t fault him for it.
“Dave Hines,” the man said, bowing his head slightly—probably in lieu of a handshake with weird-looking me. “I’ll be your captain on this flight.” He was about five eight, with straight black hair all of an inch long, dark skin, and almond-shaped eyes with epicanthic folds, likely of a mixed ethnicity. I liked his self-contained calm. He seemed like someone who would handle himself well in an emergency, which was a good thing. Pilots on my jets tended to meet danger in firefights. “I’ll introduce the flight crew to you when you are all assembled.”