Dark Queen

by Faith Hunter

  “Jane?” Rick asked, his cat eyes glowing slightly green in his human face. “What am I supposed to do under were law? This is . . .” He stopped and swallowed, as if the words tasted bad. “A tamed cat is a slave.”

  Gently I said, “Kem has always wanted you dead. Me dead. I couldn’t save him when he was dying just now. You could, but that act left him your slave. That’s the way things are done in the werecat world according to the Merged Laws of the Cursed of Artemis. But there’s nothing in were law that prohibits slaves from being set free. No were law says you have to keep him or his possessions. No one says you have to kill Kem’s male kits or mate with female kits or be the same kind of evil they are.”

  Asad’s head came up in what looked like affront.

  Rick looked at Kem, the green in his eyes bleeding back to the Frenchy dark of his human self. He stroked the cat’s ears uncertainly. “I can set him free?”

  “Yeah. According to the Merged Laws, he’ll always be your blood beta. That’s part of a higher-ranking cat saving another cat’s life. But I’m pretty sure you can determine the direction of the relationship. Pretty sure you could give him back his wives and determine how he treats his wives and his young.”

  Asad said, sounding bored, “But if you set him free and send him home, he will be hunted and killed, and your new wives will be taken by the strongest male.” Asad glanced at me. “It would have been kinder to kill him.”

  Bruiser murmured to Rick, “You could make him your msimamizi.”

  Rick let out a breath and the tension he had been holding. He raked his clean hand through his hair and said, “Yeah. I could. Kemnebi, I make you my msimamizi.”

  To me, Bruiser said, “LaFleur has been studying African werecat law, or he’s been to Africa. Msimamizi is Swahili for administrator. Rick just gave Kem a job.”

  I studied my ex. He’d been traveling internationally. Had he been to Africa? Did that travel have something to do with his silvered hair?

  Rick stood, pushing Kem aside. The black leopard looked at him adoringly. “Go home to Gabon and be kind to your”—his lips turned down—“my wives and your children.”

  Asad snarled. Clearly this was not what he had expected to happen. Beast snorted in derision and I grinned, showing blunt human teeth to the werelion. Asad had been planning something disruptive and dangerous as he tried to steal the SOD, maybe that war I had thought about. He had put tiles on a world-sized playing board, all perfectly arranged to topple for a predetermined ending, no matter where they started to fall. And then—whatever his plan had been—I messed it all up. That was clear on his face. Go, me.

  The elevator opened to reveal more guards, which was my cue. Leaving the others and the mess of blood and interspecies politics, I slipped back up the hidden stairs, wondering where the werewolves had disappeared to. I freaking hated being out of my own Enforcer loop.

  I needed a few minutes with Leo. As I rounded the stairs on the main floor’s landing, I caught the fading stench of werewolf blood, then Ayatas’s faint scent, Leo’s scent overlapping both, but seemingly at different moments. Together, the fading scents went up the next set of stairs to Leo’s office. Great. Leo had come out of his office lair and met the werewolves. Then had come back out and greeted the special agent. Ayatas got a private meeting with the MOC while I dealt with were-creature politics. I dropped my headset off at the foyer security nook and dropped into a chair with a tired sigh.

  A low voice rumbled slyly, “Want me to rub your feet?”

  I chuckled up at Wrassler. “You big ol’ softie, you. Instead, let me see the security footage. Let’s start with sub-five. I want to know who was responsible for the FUBAR down there.”

  Wrassler frowned. His expression told me that he had already watched the footage and wasn’t happy about any part of it. The cameras mounted in the sub-five basement showed me most of what I needed to know, beginning with the elevator opening and a female vampire walking out. Pale hair and eyes, her face chiseled and cold, the stark beauty of a glacier in pink silk and ballerina shoes. Dominique. Grégoire’s clan heir. She stepped onto the clay floor of sub-five, the werecats and wolves behind her, the wolves carrying Antifreeze, his head lolling.

  Inside me, Beast growled low, odd tones in her voice, vibrating through my own chest.

  Dominique, a two-hundred-year-old, powerful vamp, aimed a flat device like a television remote control at the camera. The screen went black. Then the other cameras went black.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “We don’t know how she did it,” Wrassler said, “but she shut off the cameras on sub-five with that thing. The entire system covering the lower floor went black. Alex is trying to isolate the security loophole on his integrated system and we’re going over the cam footage of people on stairs and elevators before the outage and after. But so far we have zip.”

  My fault, I thought. The SOD had ripped out Dominique’s throat and I hadn’t taken her head. The memory of her dead body at my feet was bright and clear as the vision of her on the screen before me. Leo and Grégoire had brought her back and restored her, hoping she would lead them to her coconspirators. Instead, she had pledged fresh loyalty and given them nothing until now. “Where is she now?” I asked.

  “Gone. I told Grégoire that his heir attacked HQ, leading our enemies to the Son of Darkness. He’s in a rage. He had begun to trust her. Foolishly.”

  I let a soft breath go. “Crap.” Vamps, especially old vamps like Grégoire, needed their closest allies to be faithful unto true-death. Betrayal cut deep. I checked my cell. There was a text from Eli, telling me he and Ayatas were with Leo. There was also one from Alex that said, Spotted an oddity on sub-five lasers before cameras went out. Call. It took a moment before I remembered. Alex had done laser upgrades on the security at the entrances and in the gym, the rec room, and sub-five, places where we’d been attacked in the past.

  I punched his number and Alex spoke fast. “Anomaly from the lasers in sub-five. The presence of a witch under an obfuscation spell.”

  “And? Tell me you caught the witch.”

  Wrassler whipped his head to me at the words.

  “No. The witch left with Dominique. But the same anomaly was in the gym earlier too, unmoving. I tracked the anomaly back and discovered that it—she—came in the front door with Dominique and some were-creatures and left with her.”

  “Any way to alter the system to track this anomaly and see it before it gets in?”

  Alex hesitated. “I don’t know how the magic works. I could talk to Molly.”

  I thought about that possibility for half a second. “I’ll call her. I’m heading home in a bit.” I hit end and told Wrassler what Alex had discovered. He frowned and sat in front of the system, punching buttons to see the anomaly for himself.

  A familiar face appeared in the doorway, Shemmy, my sometimes driver. “May I drive you home, Miz Yellowrock?”

  My security measures had failed. I was suddenly tired beyond bearing, my legs feeling leaden and my shoulders drooping. I had lost my scarf in the fight and couldn’t make myself go look for it. I did something I seldom ever did. I accepted when a security blood-servant offered to drive me home. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  As we walked through the doors together, a car swept in, and a vampire visitor emerged. She passed us on the front stairs, carrying a package addressed to Leo, the name clearly visible. The packaging looked vaguely familiar in terms of vampire business, but I couldn’t remember where I saw the kind before or why. I stopped the vamp with an upheld hand and took the package. It was from Leo’s biomedical lab in Texas. Not my business. I waved her on and slid into the backseat of the armored SUV and closed my eyes.

  I didn’t move again until I was back home, when Shemmy opened the door for me and wished the Enforcer a good rest and happy dreams. And then I looked up. And groaned.

  I wouldn’t b
e given a chance to sleep. The windows upstairs were open, the cold breeze blowing the curtains back and forth in the night. I thought about telling Shemmy to take me to a local bar. I couldn’t get drunk, it wasn’t in my physiology, but I could nurse a Coke and people-watch. Instead I said, “Thank you. Drive safely back to HQ.” I blew out a breath and went inside, where I was met with the sound of electric saws running, nail guns thumping, hammers banging, Latin music playing, and men laughing. The cacophony echoed through the house. In my room, I took off the dancing shoes, pulled off the clothes, the sports bra, and the weapons, leaving them all on the bed, and dressed in a soft tee, a ratty sweatshirt, and leggings.

  I sat on the bed, crossed my legs guru fashion, and made a call.

  “Hey, Aunt Jane,” Angie said, answering.

  “How’s my sweet girl?” I asked.

  “I made a big butterfly. Mama punished me. I’m in trouble.” But she sounded proud of herself for the entire episode, even the being-in-trouble part.

  “How big did you make the butterfly?”

  “Big as my feet.”

  My eyebrows went up. “That’s a big butterfly.”

  “Yup. Mama was mad ’cause she couldn’t see where I got the mass from.”

  My eyebrows went up higher. “You know what mass is?”

  “Yup. Energy equals mass times the speed of light squared,” she quoted. “Which means that magic and electricity and sunlight, which are energy, are the same stuff as things I can touch, which is mass or matter. And I can innerchange ’em ’cause they’re just different forms of the same thing. But I didn’t innerchange ’em.”

  My entire body had gone cold as she spoke. I was pretty sure my heart had stopped beating. “Okay,” I managed. “So what did you do to make the butterfly grow big?”

  “I didn’t make one grow big. I jus’ made a big one come to me. From one of the other places.”

  I breathed through my mouth in the beginnings of panic. “What other places?”

  “There’s bunches of other places. One has big butterflies with pink wings and purple eyes and blue bodies and feet. I just pulled it over. Mama’s mad at me,” she said again, with pride.

  “Give me that phone, young lady,” Molly said in the background. “Go back to your room. And take that dog with you.”

  In the background I heard Angie calling her dog and trying to whistle. Into the phone, Molly said, “She told you?”

  “About what sounded like she pulled a butterfly from an alternate universe into ours? Yeah.”

  “She’s going to be the death of me.” Molly sighed. “That butterfly was a foot wide and had a stinger the size of my little finger. I had to blast it with death magic to stop it.”

  “You okay?” My BFF Molly Meagan Everhart Trueblood had a problem with the evolution of her magic and had lost herself to death magic once or twice. That was way scarier than pulling butterflies from alternate universes.

  “I’m good. I play a lot of Evan’s music these days and I keep that dang cat close.” The dang cat was Molly’s familiar, though witches didn’t have familiars. Ever. It was too cliché for real life. “What’s up?”

  “Two things. First, we had a witch under an obfuscation spell enter through the sensors. The lasers picked up the anomaly, but we only spotted it after the fact. It was too small a change to see it in real time. I’m wondering if there’s a way to rig a ward or a magical something to alert us when someone comes in the door.”

  Molly was quiet and I could almost see her pursing her lips and squinting her eyes as she thought. “The entrances have the metal detectors and the X-ray scanners, like at airports, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And all the security setup is close by, with cameras?”

  My heart thudded down. Right. Magic and electronics. Too much of either in the same place, and something was likely to go bang. Molly’s next words confirmed that thought.

  “Anything I might send would fritz out in short order. Someone could set up a hedge outside, but it needs to be hands-on with that many people coming and going. I could call Lachish Dutillet to set one up, but she’d have to stay there.” Her voice sounded amused. Lachish was the head of the NOLA coven and she didn’t like me much. Lachish didn’t like vamps much either. So, no way would she provide security for us against another witch.

  “Yeah. No thanks,” I said. “Second, I’m pretty sure we’re looking at the formation of Clan Yellowrock in the fanghead manner in the next few days. You still up for that? Being part of a vamp clan will give you and Big Evan power and protection from other vamps. It’ll help to keep you all safe. Keep the kids safe.” Keep Eli and Alex and all my people safe. But I didn’t need to add that part.

  “Janie, I’d suck vamp blood myself if it kept my children safe from the Europeans. Remember, I’m ready to come if and when you need me.”

  “This can be handled over an electronic connection. You stay where you are and take care of my next godchild. Understand?”

  “I do. I love you, big-cat.”

  “I love you too, Moll.”

  We ended the call. I stared at the cell face for a while, remembering why I was doing everything in my life—to protect my godchildren. To keep them safe from bloodsuckers who killed or turned every witch they could find and who would take Angie Baby and Little Evan and Molly’s unborn daughter and . . . I stopped the visions that wanted to swarm through me. I didn’t have time for them or for the fear that rode me every time I thought about the danger the children were in. Brick by mental brick, I blocked away the images and the panic.

  Pulling out a notepad, I wrote a note to Alex to check on the injured guards and Tequila Antifreeze. I left it on his desk in the living room.

  Barefooted, I traipsed up the stairs to the second floor and stopped at the landing. The hardwood-floored landing ran the length of the house from front to back, a wide hallway separating the four bedrooms into two on the left and two on the right, with old-fashioned bathrooms on each side. From the bathroom Eli used, I caught the faintest hint of lemon, before it vanished on the air currents rushing through the house.

  Paper had been taped over the hardwood and there was a load of lumber on top of it. A table saw sat in the middle of the room, three ladders of various styles were propped here and there, a skill saw lay on its side, and hammers, measuring tapes, pencils, cola cans, and fast-food wrappers were everywhere. A boom box played from somewhere out of sight.

  Three men stood on the second floor with me and two on rafters above, where a hole had been cut in the ceiling to the attic, what would soon be the third floor, though in NOLA-speak it would be the atelier. But the hole was a lot bigger than I expected, covering the entire area from wall to wall. Way more demo than I had anticipated. I thought about weeping at the lack of sleep, but . . . I could survive being sleepy. I took in the smells: fresh pine wood with an underlay of garlic, beer, a little weed, hot peppers, and chili, from the men I didn’t know. Even less obvious was the scent of vamp from the one man I did know.

  Two beams sawn with right-angled cutouts for risers and treads were lying on the floor and the far wall was covered with penciled lines and scuff marks to create a narrow stairwell next to the stairs from the first floor.

  I waved at the hole overhead. “Can I see up there?”

  Edmund looked at me, and at the hole, and knelt near me, his fingers laced together and his hands cupped for my foot.

  “I expected to climb a ladder,” I said, my tone wry.

  “It is an old house. The ceilings are twelve feet high and the ladders were not quite tall enough,” Ed said. “We had to stand them on the stack of drywall and plywood to cut the hole overhead, and those stacks are now upstairs. Longer ladders are on the way. Until then, the men are pulling each other up. Please allow me to boost you.”

  I was tired. Vamps were strong. Beast was really good at
catching us. I shrugged and stepped back, took a running start, and raced to Edmund.

  My primo accepted and collected my weight without a bobble, tossing me high. I caught the rafters overhead and let momentum and Beast pull me into the attic. I heard the muttered comments of the crew as I landed, probably looking as if I’d flown up here.

  “Bruja?” The men backed away, slowly, not turning their backs.

  “Bebedor de sangre?” All the men crossed themselves. Several said, “Madre de Dios,” in tones of fear.

  “Vampira.” Pointing to me, not Ed, who was coming up behind me. Which was funny.

  “Noooo,” I said.

  “Sí.” More crossing.

  “Noooo,” I said back. “No vampira. No bruja. Just strong.” I made a muscle.

  “Black Widow? From Marvel?” a guy with a droopy paunch asked. It came out Black Weedow?

  The other guy said, “Natasha Romanova,” and shaped an hourglass figure in the air with his hands.

  “Sorta kinda.”

  Being a superhero was way better than scaring the humans with the truth. They elbowed each other in approval, saying, “Sí. La Araña Viuda. Sí. Sí. Sí.”

  The space up here was amazing. There were dormers along one side of the roof system and the windows had been removed, leaving openings to the night. A new window rested below each opening, ready for insertion. Two-by-fours were up to indicate where the soundproofed walls would go, three smaller rooms on the back side of the house, with a minuscule bathroom and a large workout area on the front part.