Jane Yellowrock 14 - True Dead

by Faith Hunter

  The memories of his death slammed into me as we drove up. Memories of his body—scorched by lightning, his throat torn out, lying on the street—cut my soul. Silent, I left the vehicle and entered the front door.

  Walking into the house was painful. Even though it had been totally redecorated in white and grays and looked nothing like the original, I could still see Derek fall. My fault. Just like his death. He had been healed that first time and healed all the times after, but not this last. His funeral was in two days. Being my friend was deadly.

  “You weren’t responsible for his death,” Eli said softly, reading my mind.

  From behind me, Thema said, “The long-lived lose our people one by one. Grief burrows and plows into our souls until there is nothing within us except that anguish.”

  I turned from the place where Derek had fallen and looked at her. Really looked at her. She was tall and whip thin, with very black skin for an old vamp. Tonight she wore silver in her ears, around her wrists, and on her fingers, a show of power few vamps could match. Her hair was cut close to her skull, and she was wearing white armor, two steel swords, and a number of modern weapons holstered here and there. She looked deadly. She also looked full of sorrow. Kojo stood behind her dressed in all black, his eyes on me.

  “That’s why you don’t want blood-servants of your own, isn’t it?” I asked them, the certainty creeping through me. “Even the longest-lived servants are dead at three hundred years.”

  “Yes,” Thema said softly. “Our blood is potent. We easily bind humans. They do not wish to ever be far from us. It is difficult to be a Blood Master to such dependent beings.”

  “You and Kojo can stay as long as you like, without taking blood-servants. But you have to contribute. This offer is contingent upon you working with Florence, in her position as Infermieri, to heal all grievously injured humans and vampires sworn to me and to mine. If you agree, I’ll make certain that blood meals are provided for you without you having to make them blood-servants.”

  Thema turned vamp-black eyes to me. “You are always a surprise, My Queen.”

  “Flying by the seat of my pants kinda does that. Is that a yes?”

  Kojo looked at Thema, who nodded. “Yes,” she said. Kojo looked away. I wasn’t sure if he agreed or not, and didn’t really care right now.

  I glanced at Eli. “We’ll be getting some heavily bound and isolated humans soon. They cared for some crazy vamps in isolation for way too long, and they smoked way too much weed. Once they’ve been dried out and reintroduced to modern life, make sure they feed a few times from Kojo and Thema and Florence.” I looked at the vamps. “The damaged blood-servants and vamps can be test cases.”

  “Thank you, My Queen,” Thema said.

  Eli dropped his chin a fraction of an inch in what counted as agreement for him.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s tour the house.”

  It was very different. The decor was now shades of white, shades of gray, and dull gold, with brushed brass pulls on cabinets and doorknobs, brushed brass light fixtures. Thankfully the brass had been used sparingly, because I hated it on sight. Too glitzy. But as a place for events, it would do. I got the grand tour, from the formal rooms and the dueling site on the ground floor to the bedrooms on the upper floor and in the attic. It was functional, if a little cold feeling. And empty. The few vamps who had been living here had found other places to be tonight. I couldn’t say I blamed them.

  The bedroom that was set aside for me was much more to my taste, done up in shades of warm gray and hints of green. I checked the closets, and sure enough, I had clothes hanging there. Madame Melisende and Quint had been busy. More importantly, there was a set of armor here too. This set was basic black cloth, not leather covered, and it had gold layering around the waist, wrists, and neckline. It looked like something I might wear for formal occasions. It was dang spiffy. I pulled it out and ran my hand over the fabric.

  “You would look good in that,” Eli said, “especially walking down the stairs after our guests arrive, nice and slow, weaponed up like you intend to go to war. Want to change? Quint is here somewhere, checking out the security measures, determining the potential points of egress should she need to remove you. She can help.”

  I held the armor up to me and turned, spotting a mirror on a stand in the corner. I walked over and looked at myself with the armor. Yeah. I’d look fantastic in this. Especially if I was half-form. I had been human for over six hours, so I should be able to shift easily and soon. “You like Quint?” I asked Eli.

  “No. But she’s never broken a contract. She has a reputation to uphold and a contract for five years. Protecting the Dark Queen, keeping you alive, means she can offer her services to anyone at any price she wants when her contract is over. And Quesnel lives at HQ. If Quint is capable of loving anyone, it’s him. They play chess and cards, and to all appearances, she dotes on him.”

  “Mmm. Send Quint and food up in about fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, I’ll try to shift into half-form. And send someone back to the house for my black combat boots. And make sure that Quesnel knows he can order anything he wants for his cellars. Let’s keep him happy.”

  “Covering your bases.” Eli touched his headset and called for food, Quint, and my weapons as he went out the door, closing it behind him. I stripped and removed the few weapons I had planned to carry. I’d want everything I had for this to work.

  * * *

  * * *

  Nearly an hour later, I looked in the slim mirror at my half-form in uniform. This armor took badassery to entirely new heights. The red-gripped nine-mils in the black shoulder holster were reminders of blood. The gold on the armor matched the gold gorget. And the crown of silver stakes would glimmer perfectly above the gold of le breloque.

  Quint handed me a headset and said, “I approve. Your guests have arrived. The duello will take place at midnight.”

  I put on the headset and adjusted the weapons. Quint made more adjustments until everything was prefect.

  “When will Shaun MacLaughlinn arrive?”

  “Oddly, he will not be present.”

  I looked across the room, not really seeing it. Shaun not coming made no sense. This whole duello had been orchestrated by him to take over my clan and my city. Of course, the original backstabbing plan had included Ka, Monique, and Granny as part of the attack at HQ and at my house, and maybe an attack during the Sangre Duello, in total violation of parley agreements. Maybe Shaun was backpedaling to Plan B. I tapped the headset to the private channel and said, “Alex. Eli. Shaun MacLaughlinn isn’t coming?”

  “Negative,” they both said. Eli added, “Odds are he’ll show up late and make a scene, but since no one has spotted him in NOLA in the last few nights, we aren’t taking chances.”

  Meaning that Shaun might have lured us here and kept us busy while he attacked us on other fronts. It was a very vampy thing to do. “Precautions?”

  “Your people are as safe as we can make them. Ayatas is working in a semiofficial PsyLED capacity with the Roberes, going over the legal papers, and dealing with the governor and the local law enforcement. Earlier today, I sent a team to gather the Everharts into a safehouse and provide protection in the mountains. Liz assures me they have a hedge of thorns up around their location and that Shaddock has guards around the perimeter. All security features are up and running at the inn and grounds, and a team is covering it. HQ is locked down with arcenciels patrolling. They seem to be having fun tossing a rotting head in the backyard like a ball game. We have a team patrolling the block around the witches’ null prison. All the clan leaders have their lairs heavily guarded. I also sent a squad to the vamp cemetery. The excavation team found some interesting amulets, and they needed protection getting them back to HQ. Our house is under lockdown.”

  As he talked, I broke out into a cold sweat. That was a lot of places and people who were depending on me to survive the night and kill the Big Bad. But so far, Shaun MacLaughlinn hadn’t shown up to his ow
n challenge. He was doing something else, and my people had already figured that out, but they were stretched thin. My friends were in danger again. “Okay. Thanks.”

  Eli said, “Dovic has arrived. His people are inspecting the arena.”

  The arena was the main room at the bottom of the stairs. The furniture had been moved against the walls, and a rubberized fighting mat had already been in place when I took the house tour. I also remembered a huge TV screen on one wall. Ugly thing. Big enough to watch films on.

  “How many?”

  “Twelve, including Dovic. The highest-ranking member of the clan currently on-site appears to be a three-hundred-year-old Russian Naturaleza female named Zariyah. She’s wearing a silver earring, the clip-on kind. Thema is staring at her and smiling. If vamps could sweat, Zariyah would be sweating bullets. But the parley was for twenty-four on each side, so I’m not ruling anything out.”

  “The second string arrived first,” I said.

  “Except for Dovic. Which means the first string is busy elsewhere or waiting to make an entrance. We have lookouts on the roof and two drones flying, one directly overhead and another one in a wider circle that covers the downtown side of the Garden District. There are spotters at each hotel where our uninvited guests are staying, and we have shooters for three blocks around the clan home.”

  “Mr. Prepared.”

  “Always, babe.”

  “When do you want me to make an entrance?”

  “Why don’t you be fashionably late. I’ll send up tea and a laptop for you to watch the security cameras.”

  I brightened. “Ducky. And something else to eat? I finished off the burgers, so maybe cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches?”

  “You don’t eat cucumber sandwiches,” Eli said distinctly.

  “I do tonight. And though I needed the burgers to shift into half-form, I’m pretty tired of protein.”

  Eli’s silence was telling. Because I was never tired of protein.

  * * *

  * * *

  Tea and cucumber sandwiches were the reason I was sitting in my swanky bedroom at Yellowrock Clan Home when Shaun MacLaughlinn and his small army showed up.

  CHAPTER 19

  Yada Yada Blah Blah

  Thanks to the drones and the spotters, we had plenty of warning, and I even had time to brush my fangs before the action began. Shaun MacLaughlinn’s people came racing through the city in Jeeps with no doors, all heavily armed. The police had reports of “armed gang activity” from the time the vamps left Marigny and hit the streets, heading uptown. Thanks to the lines of communication between local and state officials, roadblocks were ready and went up everywhere to keep the city’s usual revelers from danger. Cops gave chase from a safe distance, SWAT was already in position in the outer perimeter around the clan home, and Bruiser joined Aya on conference calls to the chief of police—Chief Walker, who owed his life to me—to coordinate the defense of the public.

  By the time Shaun reached the Garden District, the invading vamps and their toy soldiers were locked down from a military standpoint, and by the time they pulled up in front of the clan home, they were surrounded, laser targeting sights on all of them. Comms was a screaming chaos, SWAT and Eli’s teams were everywhere, working together because they had to. There was more than the number of attackers we had planned on, far more than the additional twelve vamps Shaun had agreed to. He had brought a ragtag army of humans and forty vampires. Not that the vamps fully understood what the targeting lasers meant. Powerful vamps always had blind spots where modern machinery, electronics, and military equipment were concerned.

  But the humans with the invading vamps were a different matter. Mercenaries, accustomed to attacking unarmed foes for pay and walking away unharmed, knew what the tiny targeting lights meant. They simply put down their weapons, locked their hands behind their necks, and sat on the street as cops surrounded them at close range, weapons trained on them. I hoped the mercenary group had already cashed their check, because replacing the weapons was going to be pretty pricy. NOLA law enforcement would surely confiscate the high-powered weapons.

  That left the vamps who had broken parley and then shown up with armed soldiers to break it again. None of the vamps put up a fight either. Within sixty seconds of the mercenaries quitting, most of them voluntarily disarmed and were lying on the ground under Eli’s guard. That was the thing about making a clan out of the remains of disbanded clans and rogue vamps. No loyalty. It wasn’t lost on me that I had done exactly the same thing.

  When the scene was secured, local cops were allowed to take the mercenaries away, and Bruiser had his team bring all the vamps to the porte cochere, where drones couldn’t hover overhead and watch him work. He and his crew went through the vamps, staking the ones not on the invitation list. We couldn’t simply behead them in sight of the cops and the neighbors. The uninvited extras would be moved off site, read and bled, and either claimed by a stronger vamp or . . . dispatched. For now, we had a row of staked vamps on the property, which no one liked, because a staked vamp could be unstaked and put back to fight quickly, but it was the best we could do.

  Quint laughed at the sight of staked vamps on my computer screen. It was a weird sound, a kind of laughter I both liked and hated at the same time. My feelings about Quint were all over the place. I hoped they settled into something stable soon.

  The cameras shifted to inside as Shaun MacLaughlinn and his allowable additional twelve vamps were permitted to enter the house. Following them, I switched the security view to the inside cams.

  Even with Shaun wearing his Snake of Snakes armband over a silk shirt the color of fresh blood, it was an ignominious entrance, and the vamps who had been waiting inside looked frustrated and angry, possibly because they had seen their army taken down without a shot fired or a single instance of personal combat. The big ugly video screen had carried it all live. I guessed they would move to plan C now, because no way did they have only one plan for tonight. But until they started something our people could kill them for, everything rested on the outcome of the duel. The futures of the entire city, and probably the entire U.S. Mithran organization, rested on Koun and Dovic. Except . . . They had broken parley. I opened the parley agreement and saw that one type of ammo wasn’t among the list of proscribed weapons, an omission—probably accidental—which gave us an advantage.

  A smile stretched my face. Quint watched me the way a mouser cat watched a mouse.

  I asked Eli over comms, “Were our enemies carrying silver-lead hollowpoint shredders?”

  “No My Queen,” he said.

  Into my mic and to Quint I said, “They broke parley multiple times. If everything goes to crap, silver-lead hollowpoint shredder rounds are not proscribed. No mercy.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Quint said, her eyes lighting with glee.

  “On it,” Eli said. “I’m also having your Infermieri, Florence, brought here. Things could go bad in a heartbeat.”

  I could hear Quint changing out mags. Snap, slap, click. Four times. Eli was giving orders. On the laptop, I studied each face as my enemies entered the main room, watched the body language, and concentrated on Shaun as he walked up the few steps to the landing on the staircase. He started an irate monologue about the rights of vamps to command, hunt, and own humans. About how no Mithran or Naturaleza should ever allow a foul creature to rule them and how the only way that anyone would pledge loyalty to that beast was if they were weak or if some great magic was forcing them. Yada yada blah blah.

  Except the great magic he was talking about was the Glob and le breloque. The old stories suggested that the corona gave the wearer the ability to force vamps to comply. The stories were right, but only for a limited time and to a very limited extent, at least for this Dark Queen. Those same stories said that the vamps had risen up against the last Dark Queen and killed her, probably because she tried to rule with an iron fist and could only control a few of them at a time. Me running amok and treating them like puppets was not
a happy-happy-joy-joy thought being planted in my loyal vamps’ heads. By their expressions, it wasn’t taking, at least not for now.

  When Shaun wound down, Bruiser let a silence build before he walked the four steps up to the small landing to stand beside Shaun. He introduced himself, beginning with his previous title as primo and ending with “and I am now honored to be the Consort of the Dark Queen of all Mithrans.” My heart melted.

  Shaun sneered.

  Politely, Bruiser suggested that Shaun’s herald provide the introductions and announcements of titles, but he didn’t cede the dais to the herald, which left the enemy’s ceremonial vamp standing on the first step, his back to Bruiser, which I could tell Shaun hated. The herald had an amazing voice, deep and sonorous, but since Shaun had no land and no city—which had been turned over to Grégoire when Shaun’s anamchara Dominique was executed—the intro didn’t take long. The herald had little to work with.

  Dovic’s intro took quite a bit longer, as his intro included all the vamps he had beheaded in battle, personal combat, and duello. It was an impressive list, except it was clear at the end that he had avoided a duel with Edmund and Grégoire, which meant he had been in hiding during the takeover of Europe. The entire time the herald called out his kills, Dovic stared at Koun. His body was positioned so that I couldn’t see his face from any camera, but his hatred of Koun was evident in every line of his body.

  Koun, on the other hand, looked bored. When the long list of kills was done, the herald turned back to Bruiser and said, “And your warrior?”

  Koun raised his eyebrows, stared at his rival, and said matter-of-factly, “I am Koun. No past kills have value tonight, only the kill I shall register moments from now. This night, I shall be known as the executioner of Dovic, the Arrogant Fool.”

  Dovic didn’t like that. His head came up, and he vamped out, fast.