Cold Reign

by Faith Hunter

  “Yes,” Gee said, sounding miserable, looking up into the night clouds.

  I glanced back at the house. Flames were consuming the back, a raging inferno leaping for the windows. The wind, reacting to the heat, picked up. The blaze thrust, voracious, to the front door and the pure air that poured through it, feeding the fire. The kitchen and its bodies were a ruin. If I hadn’t used silver ammo no one would have known who had shot the humans. I’d be in an interrogation room as soon as the silver fléchette damage was discovered by the medical examiner. I wasn’t the only one who used the rounds but I was the best known.

  Gee said, “Adan Bouvier, in the mural that is no more, was . . . is . . . a water witch with strong air capabilities as well.”

  It was info I hadn’t asked for. When someone powerful gives me information for free, they usually wanted me to do their dirty work. I should have socked him and walked away. Should have. “I’m listening,” I said instead.

  Gee looked up into the clouds. “If he is still among the undead, he is capable of creating such a storm.”

  I remembered the black motes of power in the clouds, when the arcenciels were flying there, cavorting in real time. “Was Bouvier a friend of the Damours?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to Adan?” I asked. Adan was the fanghead who had owned Ka Nvista, a Cherokee slave with yellow eyes like me.

  “There was an ‘incident,’” Gee said, “and though Leo told others he was dead, there are those of us who know the truth. He went back to France.”

  “You think he’s the water witch causing this storm, either on shore with the others, or still aboard the invisible cruise ship.” I wanted Adan to be alive. I wanted it so much that my hands ached with the need. I wanted him alive so I could question him about Ka Nvista. About how she died. And more, about how she lived. And if there were more of us.

  That hope, that need, I shoved deep inside, not sure when it had gotten loose.

  “No,” Gee said, his dark eyes exploring the downtown skyline, then the uptown skyline, back toward the French Quarter and the river, then toward Lake Pontchartrain (downstream, upstream, river side, and lake side, in the parlance of the locals), as if scenting something only he could sense. He said, “I believe that he is on land. Here in the city. Any witch worth her salt can cast an obfuscation working over the ship and vanish in the storm. But creating a storm such as this, that takes a gift not seen on these shores in centuries. And not one practiced aboard ship, but with a witch circle, one drawn on the Earth.”

  Bruiser’s cell chirped. He tapped the screen and said, “Alex?”

  “I’m safe. Tell Jane her cell is off again.” His voice was manic, the way it sounded when he was overindulging on energy drinks. Eli and I had talked to him about the dangers of overdosing on them, but he was a geek teenager, ten feet tall and Kryptonite-proof.

  I fished around and found my cell. It was in pieces; the only thing still intact was the Kevlar cover. I didn’t remember picking it up at the house. I didn’t remember breaking it, but it must have happened in the firefight inside Arceneau Clan Home.

  “Did she bust another one?” Alex asked Bruiser.

  I muttered something less than ladylike under my breath and tossed it to the SUV floor.

  “Yes,” Bruiser said. “She did.”

  “Ha! I owe myself five bucks.” He continued, “I got three things: Vamps coming ashore in a rubber dinghy while the attention was focused on shore during the original altercation with the Feds and ICE. Brandon’s and Brian’s current whereabouts. And Grégoire’s attackers/kidnappers on camera after they left HQ.”

  I stood straight. “Yeah? Grégoire first.”

  “Timeline: The EV vamps carried Grégoire out through the side entrance of HQ and gave him to two humans. He was bound and bleeding and unconscious. The humans carried him down the street and put him in a car. I got a partial plate. Found the car on the way to Clan Arceneau. Not long after, I got a visual on the Roberes at the dock and leaving at a dead run. They got in one of Leo’s SUVs, but they deactivated the GPS on it and I lost them on the traffic cams. I reacquired the humans and Grégoire. They ditched the car on the Lafitte Greenway Trail and left on foot, where I lost them on St. Louis Street. Best guess is they got into one of the cars going past, but not sure which one. I’m backtracking through the footage to see where the Roberes ended up, but it’s taking time to acquire the private surveillance footage.”

  Which meant he was hacking right and left. I should tell him to stop, but lives depended on his illegal abilities. I kept my mouth shut.

  The Kid continued, “Sending you coordinates of the abandoned car. I’ll call back when I have more.” The connection ended and Alex’s face disappeared from the screen.

  I reloaded as Bruiser drove, glancing several times to check on the vamp in the backseat. She was vamp-sleeping, the breathless, dead look of the undead uncorpse. I said, “You drained her power, didn’t you?” He didn’t answer, just turned his wipers on higher as the rain became harder. “That’s the Onorio secret power, or one of them. To be able to steal the magic of the undead. And that’s why the vamps want Brandon and Brian. Because they’re Onorios. Now, because one of the humans got away, they know about you being Onorio.” Again he said nothing. “You’re glowing. Full of power, like a Naturaleza vamp looks, after it’s drained a human.”

  He glanced at me quickly and away, saying, “Do I repulse you?”

  I pointed at my fangs. “Do I repulse you? Did I repulse you when I killed five humans back there?”

  Bruiser smiled, his lips quirking up, eyes crinkling. “There is nothing you can do and nothing you might look like that would repulse me, Jane Yellowrock.”

  I snapped the nine-mil into its holster and looked at my hands. I wasn’t sure if I could blush in this form or if it would show if I did. “Ditto,” I said. “Not repulsed. Just glad you weren’t necking with the vamp back there while I saved your ass.”

  “Not necking. And if it’s ass you want . . .”

  I looked out the window, hiding my pleasure. An arch in my voice, I said, “I’m willing to accept thanks taken out in trade.”

  Bruiser chuckled in the manly way they do when they’re thinking about sex. He drove with one hand and took mine with the other. We drove the rest of the way to the greenway holding hands, not looking at each other, me with a silly little smile on my fangy mouth.

  The car Grégoire had been taken away in was a black, four-door Lincoln, and it had been pulled off St. Louis Street and onto the greenway grass before it was abandoned. Bruiser slammed the SUV into park and we rushed to the vehicle through the rain. I grabbed Bruiser’s arm as he reached to open the door. “Possible explosives,” I said. “The bomb squad is going to make overtime today.”

  “I’ll call it in,” Bruiser said, and called NOPD. While he talked to dispatch and was put through to three other departments, telling the same tale each time, I walked around the Lincoln and sniffed things out. I caught the bloody spoor of Grégoire; he had been carried away. I started the muddy slog on the Lafitte Greenway, which wasn’t as pretty as that might have sounded, being a treeless stretch of grass and not much else. However, their trail ended at tire tracks in the mud. They had switched cars. My shoulders slumped, though I followed the tire tracks for a dozen blocks, the vehicle heading lakeside, until the mud no longer left a trail. I had lost Blondie.

  Back at the SUV, the bomb squad hadn’t yet made an appearance, and the storm had gotten much worse, like an out-of-season hurricane, but with sleet and frozen rain. Even in half-Beast form I was shivering and miserable. Bruiser held my door for me, as if I were wearing a ballroom dress and not the soaked leathers. I was so getting some nonleather armor.

  We had to find the witch who was bringing in the storm—hopefully Adan Bouvier. And locate Grégoire. And the vamps and humans who took him. And we had to stop all
of them and then stop the boat offshore. At some point, I had read a text update from Alex that the Coast Guard was patrolling the waters watching for vamps and humans who might want to make it ashore, but in the rain and wind, humans would surely miss a lot. Clearly there were more than just two European vamps in town. Maybe the entire EuroVamp contingent was coming ashore in twos and threes, ready to do that whole preemptive strike on Leo. My heart rate increased as a spurt of adrenaline shot through my bloodstream. Alex had said something about vamps coming ashore in a rubber dinghy while the attention was focused on shore. Too much was going on and I was confused and hungry and tired.

  Using the SUV’s onboard computer, I got Internet access, texted Alex, and got a fast answer. At the same time we were watching ICE and the feds and baiting Rick, a motorized dinghy carrying six passengers had come ashore, at least two of them vamps. Alex was working to identify them all now, and when he sent me some stills, I was able to assure him that two of the vamps were out of commission, one dead at the burned-out Arceneau Clan Home and one in the back of the SUV. The humans were DBs too. Considering the storm and the distance from their insertion point, I could likely account for all the hours between landfall and torture/arson.

  Alex also sent me pics of the vamps and humans who had gone after Grégoire. My heart clenched and the blood froze in my veins, even though there was no surprise in his identity. One of the vamps was Le Bâtard. Grégoire’s sire.

  Bruiser’s cell chirped again. He answered and listened. When he ended the call he said, “Let’s go. We’re needed at the Council Chambers, and the Mithran in the back will cook if left out in the sun too long.”

  I looked up at the sky and said, “Sun?”

  Bruiser didn’t even laugh. Seeing me shiver, he turned the heater to high and also ran the air-conditioner, trying to get some of the moisture out of the vehicle. In our short absence, it had grown colder and wetter and the windows were fogged. I hated New Orleans winters. And summers. The weather here nine or ten months out of the year. Hated it.

  My honeybunch whipped the wheel and gunned the motor.

  “You gonna tell me about the call?” I asked when Bruiser sped through a yellow light, turning over to red. Bruiser seldom ran lights, probably habits left over from the days when vamps and their servants ran under the radar and did everything possible to avoid the attention of law enforcement. Not today.

  “You asked about the new cages in the scion prison. One was not coated in silver. Adrianna is missing.”

  “You are freaking kidding me.” Though with my fangs it came out, U r fek’g kiddick ee.

  “Sadly not. She was set free during the storm. There were security problems from two lightning strikes into the grounds themselves. It’s dawn now, so she’s gone to lair, but we need to—”

  “Alex,” I whispered, dragging at my burner cell, punching in the number. Alex was at the house, still terrified. Drunk on energy drinks. “Take me home! Take me home right now! She knows I took her bracelet.” My voice shuddered in my throat and froze up entirely. Bruiser’s foot hit the floorboard and the heavy vehicle plowed through the standing water. Alex’s number rang. And rang. I texted him. And e-mailed him. Stared at the cell willing it to respond, but the blasted thing did nothing. Edmund was with him. But it was after dawn. Derek’s security team was with him, but Adrianna was a powerful vamp, older than Ed. She might still be active in the daylight, as dim as the storm had left it. Adrianna was a bedbug-crazy vamp.

  Bruiser tossed me a towel and I wiped off the windows and the windshield. Condensation gathered right back. The SUV became mired in early-morning traffic, many vehicles detouring around flooded parts of town. I called Alex again. Direct to voice mail. I called Edmund and Gee and left messages. I called Leo and left another one. And Derek. And Eli, the call I had least wanted to make, all going to voice mail. But not one of them called back to say they were on the way. I had to consider the reality that humans were expendable to vamps, even a valuable human like Alex and Derek’s team. And maybe because of the storm, Eli and Derek were out of cell coverage.

  I could shift. Run back through the cold to the house. Get inside through Brute’s wolfie door. Shift back. Fight Adrianna bare-assed naked. I would die but it would buy Alex time. I dropped down in the seat and reached for the Gray Between. And reached. And nothing. It was closed to me.

  A scream rose in my chest. Frustration and fear. Erupted into the SUV. My right fist came down. Crushed the dashboard. It cracked from the impact site to the floor. The glove box banged open, hitting my knee. My fist was buried in plastic, wedged in place. I yanked it out, tearing skin, too mad to feel the pain that had to be there. “I hate fangheads,” I growled. Wisely, Bruiser said nothing.

  Behind the clouds, dawn was a gray smudge in the east, brightening the world just enough to make driving in the rain even worse. The vamp in the back cooked slightly as day dawned, the stink of burned undead tinging the air. Bruiser tore through the streets, his bow wave throwing street water up on every car nearby. Horns blew and we heard cursing in our wake. Neither of us cared.

  Bruiser yanked the vehicle hard left and slammed his foot back to the floor as we entered my street. The vehicle was still moving as I ripped open the SUV door and leaped, using the vehicle’s momentum and Beast-strength. Up over the door and the hood, into the air, faster than the vehicle was traveling, and into the street. Pulled two vamp-killers. I drew on Beast-speed and tore for the house. Two bodies were on the small front porch. Derek’s men, nearly dead. The door was cracked open. The stink of gunfire and vamp filtered out. The stink of Adrianna. She was here.

  I rammed the door with my shoulder. In an instant I saw Alex on the floor in a puddle of blood. Shotgun beside him, broken open. Shells scattered in his blood. I was too late. This time I was too late. Rage shoved through me like lava, incinerating everything in its path. Two of the security team were on the floor in my bedroom, at Adrianna’s feet.

  Her hair was piled up on her head. She was wearing gold jewelry on both upper arms. An indigo dress, wet to the skin. The closet was open. The front door was still moving. It banged into the wall behind it.

  Adrianna spun to me. Already vamped out.

  In a single leap, I covered the distance to her, swords out to my sides.

  She raised her hands. Magics the color of blood coiled around her. Like snakes, I thought.

  I was still in the air when I brought the silvered blades down. And cut off her arms. The cuts so hard, so perfectly placed, I scarcely felt the jar as they passed through flesh and bones, just below the elbows.

  She screamed. The ululation a piercing wail. The peal of a vamp in mortal danger. Dying. Her magics faltered. I landed behind her. On my bed. Whirled. With a single, perfectly placed swing, I took her head.

  Blood gouged high, hitting the ceiling. She collapsed. I caught her head by the luxurious red hair. Blood scattered crimson across the room. Bruiser paused in the doorway, taking in Adrianna. Me. Holding her head by the hair, the head dropping slowly and spinning as her French twist came undone. The elegant hairstyle had never been intended to be worn this way.

  Bruiser left the doorway and knelt by Alex. “Breathing,” he said. “Barely.” I nearly fell, the relief was so intense.

  “Move, Onorio,” Edmund said, appearing with a soft pop of air and more of the stink of burned vamp-skin. “And close the door if you can remove the knob from the wall in which it is embedded. My mistress does not know her own strength, and I do not choose to walk into the sun this day.” Edmund. Snarky. Stinking of sunburn from a run.

  Bruiser stood to the side and Edmund dropped to one knee. I cleaned the vamp-killers on my linens, sheathed them, and stumbled off the bed, the head still dangling. I’d caught her head. I went to work on the knob. Which was really stuck.

  “The door!” Edmund roared.

  I took a two-hand grip, Adrianna’s head banging on the
painted wood, blood splattering, and heaved the knob free. Closed the door. Bruiser rushed outside and brought in the female vamp he had drained. She was smoking hot. Like, literally. Bruiser carried her to the kitchen and dumped her onto the table.

  “Where were you?” I whispered to Ed.

  “At the Mithran Council Chambers dealing with problems there.” Edmund sliced his wrist and the fingers of the other hand with a small steel blade. He placed the wrist at Alex’s mouth, dripping in enough that Alex coughed weakly before swallowing. At the same time he stuck his fingers into Alex’s neck. Deep into his neck. Where Adrianna had cut him. I looked back at her body. She was wearing a golden knife at her waist, the blade aged, made of many-times-folded steel. Damascene steel, they had once called it. I had such a blade of my own, though mine was curved and delicate, while hers was straight and covered with blood. Alex’s blood.

  “You’re dripping,” Edmund said distinctly, “blood and rainwater. Go away. Put that head somewhere. Check the injured humans. Clean up the mess. Make yourself useful.” His tone was commanding, the cutting edge of a master vampire to his minion. In a more conciliatory tone, he added, “Mistress.”

  “Uh-huh.” I didn’t need the kind of smarmy obsequiousness that many masters demanded. I didn’t even want it. But the tone reminded me that Edmund had lost his clan and his mastership over it to one less than deserving. He had given up power on purpose and I didn’t know why. And he had attached himself to me, sworn loyalty to me and to my friends when he could have avoided it. He still had secrets, and secrets could be dangerous to me and to mine. Perhaps he was mine under false pretenses. But he had run through the French Quarter at vamp speed after dawn to help Alex. The only other vamp I knew who was capable of that was Leo. I shook my head, my black hair pulling at my wet leathers. We’d have to have a little talk about all this. Alex groaned; his lips, which had looked slightly blue, were pinker.

  I looked at the head. I’d caught this one. Laughter burbled up inside me, inappropriate and hysterical. I swallowed it down.