by Faith Hunter
“Entering this building has never been easy.”
“True.” He handed me a headset. Our men surrounded us, four in front at point, two behind at our six. The crotch rockets patrolling the streets moved in closer, the whine piercing.
Brute leaned against my leg, almost as if in comfort.
I put the headset on and heard Bruiser both beside me and through the earbuds, “Clear the building. Reconverge at the lower level.”
There were a series of “Roger that” and “Copy” comments as Bruiser punched in a code, and the door unlocked. Four of the unit moved into the dark, two wearing low-light / IR goggles, marking them as human, two vamped out. From the outside, more humans, Kojo, and Thema joined the crew, their low voices letting me know this had been planned, all without me, on the fly. I could console myself that I had helped design the protocols, but in reality, it just let me know how far behind I’d left my Enforcer duties. An unexpected sense of longing filled me about that.
I waited, listening, Bruiser on one side, tense and stiff, Brute on the other, probably getting white hairs all over my jeans. Beast lent me her vision, turning the world silvers and greens, allowing me to follow the action as the point men moved through the dark building. They repositioned with military precision, checking everything with goggles and vamp-eyes, giving reports as they advanced. I knew this building. It was imprinted on the back of my eyelids, the memories full of the dead, the long-chained children, the vamped, and all the horror that had been the Damours. Oddly, Beast wasn’t worried. Brute was pressed against my leg. Quint was at my back, covering our six. The security team gave quiet updates as they progressed, and with each statement, my worry increased, though everything they said should have lowered it.
“Hallway, clear.”
“Left room one, clear.”
“Right room one, clear.”
“Entering door at hallway end. Going silent.”
“Stairway, clear on this level. No bogeymen noted on first landing. Starting up. Going silent.”
I said, “In the Damours’ private quarters there was an entrance to a hidden stairway that ran from the top of the building to the garage, providing a secret passage for vamp slavers to move their human cargo. Entrance is in a closet or a wardrobe, if I remember right.”
Sweaty Bollock said, “Copy that. Voodoo and I’ll check it now.”
Thema said, “Checking garage. One interior door for entry to garage is unlocked.”
Kojo said, “Garage is clear. No vehicles. Garage exterior door is locked and secure.”
Koun said, “Outside fire escapes are clear. No doors or windows open. No movement. Leaving two outside guards and entering level-one door.”
Koun was here. Good.
From upstairs I heard, “Stairway clear. Second floor hallway clear.”
Sweaty said, “Found entrance to hidden stairway. Going silent.”
Then the guard who had entered the room at the end of the hallway said, “Room at end of first floor hallway, clear.”
I felt Bruiser relax at my side, and an answering relief washed through me. That room. That was where we had found the long-chained—the insane vampire children shackled to their cots . . .
I didn’t smell vamps, except the long-ago stink of the Damours and the Rousseaus. No fresh blood. The building was empty except for New Orleans’s ubiquitous roaches and rats, which I could smell, even with a human nose. Fast, the team took up firing positions at the landings, the door, the garage, on the roof, and outside.
Sweaty Bollock said, “Hidden stairway down, clear.”
Blue Voodoo said, “Stairway up to roof, clear.”
Thema stepped up close and scratched Brute’s ears. “The building is safe, My Queen.”
I was watching her hand on Brute’s head when the words “My Queen” penetrated. Slowly I raised my eyes to Thema. She never called me queen. Never offered me her loyalty. She was doing that now. A possibility entered my mind, and I quashed it, not because it was without merit but because now wasn’t the time. Yet the possibility was there, nonetheless.
She turned her gaze to Bruiser. “I am the Dark Queen’s personal security. You may have chosen another, but I will be the one who keeps her safe.” She turned her black eyes on me and her fangs clicked down. The silver piercings in her ears caught the light. “You will stay behind me, My Queen.”
It was not a request, but an order. Quint stepped in front of me, between us, weapons out. Beast bristled at the smells coming off the two women, but I held her down. Thema’s powerful, I thought to my other half. Let her lead.
Beast is not kit to be led. Beast is not prey. Beast does not like where Jane’s thoughts go.
Too freaking bad. We’re neck deep in quicksand.
Beast does not understand sand that moves fast.
Yeah? You’re keeping secrets about our lives. You share all the secrets, and I’ll explain quicksand.
Jane is mean.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.
Bruiser said, “Quint, take our six. Thema, take point.”
Instantly Quint backed up. No reaction this time. No scent change.
We moved forward. Inside, into the dark.
I saw the room as it had been and as it was now, the present overlaid with the past. The windowless room was fifty by forty, give or take, with a fifteen-foot-tall ceiling. The walls were still painted soft coral, but there were no rugs, no leather furniture, no tables or lamps scattered in small groups, as if for playing cards or chatting or drinking tea. The far corner was empty too, where the concrete floor sloped gently to a drain. The ten blackened steel cots that had once held the shackled long-chained vampire children were gone. The room was empty.
There was nothing left to hide any part of the wide concrete floor.
Beneath the spot where the rugs had lain was a black marble square with three concentric circles that touched, like a witch circle made of three parts. The outer ring was twenty feet in diameter, made of wood, the middle was iron, the inner was also wood, sandwiching the iron. The circle was marked along the outer perimeter with symbols that resembled runes, and these were made of stone. The Glob remained inert, not pulling energy into itself, which was a good sign. But Brute went rigid, his body vibrating with a fine tremor, so tight I could feel it through the spot where we touched. He growled low, the sound rumbling, so dangerous that even the vampires went still as statues.
A grindylow popped into view, landing on Brute’s neck, chattering. Its steel claws were out. Not a good sign.
“What is it, Brute?” I asked.
And then I remembered another ring in another floor, in the basement of a witch’s home, where she had called and trapped a demon. That demon had been eating the two sacrifices. One of the chewed sacrifices had been Brute.
I knelt beside the white werewolf and said softly, “It’s okay Brute. You’re safe. We’re here.”
Brute tuned pale eyes to me. He growled low, the rumble like a freight train coming closer.
The grindy put its claws against Brute’s neck. It no longer looked like a neon green kitten. It looked like what it was—the executioner of were-creatures who passed along the were-taint.
Inside, Beast tensed. Madness in Brute brain. Like rabies.
No. It’s fear, I thought back. “Is it a demon circle? Smell it. Do you smell brimstone?”
Brute turned his gaze from me back to the ring. He snarled, his lips curling to show his fangs before he huffed, sniffed three times, and sneezed.
I scratched Brute thoroughly under the chin, our noses nearly touching, breathing in and out, sharing breath. Brute’s smelled of grilled steak, which was interesting. I wondered who had been feeding him. “It’s okay. We’re here. You’re not alone. You can leave at any time if you need fresh air.”
He began to relax. Brute sat and met my eyes, shaking h
is head no, in the human way. The grindy sheathed its steel claws, chittered at me, and vanished. Like poof. I gave the white werewolf a last scratch behind his ears before standing.
The vamps and humans and my Consort were staring at me. “What?”
“You used to hate that wolf,” Bruiser said.
“I used to do a lot of things,” I replied. “I’d like everyone to stand back while I check out the circle in case there’s some residual power, or maybe a latent working that’s only triggered by other magic.” Holding the Glob out in front of me, I walked slowly toward the marble square and the circle. I hadn’t expected Brute to follow, but he did, sticking tight to my jeans on my left side, which allowed me free access to my weapon on the right. Not that a nine-mil would help much if a demon attacked or a spell went active. I switched the Glob to my dominant hand. It was the better weapon for now.
I bent close to study the construction of the rings. It looked as if the circle had been cut from the marble, the wooden rings put in place, and molten iron had been poured inside them. The wood was heavily charred where it touched the iron. Outside the circle, the cardinal points were etched in the black marble, with north indicated by an arrow. It was an old witch circle, from the times when witches and vamps in New Orleans had worked together. It was far older than the demon circle in Evangelina’s house, though like that one, this still carried an old stink of sacrifice. Side by side, we walked around the circle once, widdershins. I paused at each stone rune, but the Glob was nonreactive, and Brute didn’t seem to smell an active working.
When we reached our starting point, Brute moved ahead of me and stuck his nose against the floor to sniff, moving closer to the circle, working his way in. He made little snuffling and snorting sounds, his lips pulling away from his fangs, his tail sagging slowly. I stayed close to him but out of his way.
Ugly wolf, good nose, Beast thought at me. Would chase wolf tail if in Beast form.
Uh-huh. No.
I touched Brute’s head, and he stopped snuffling long enough for me to get down on the floor with him again. I stretched out my arm and placed the Glob on the floor, almost touching the outer ring. With one finger, I slowly pushed the Glob closer, until it was lying directly on top of the iron. Nothing happened. I shoved the Glob across and inside the ring. Zilch.
“Okay, Brute. Go for it. What do you smell?”
Brute began snuffling again, and reached the iron ring. His scenting sounds were much more elegant than the sounds bloodhounds make, which are slobbery, lippy snuffling. Brute began to follow the circle, stopping and smelling as he moved.
Ugly wolf, good nose, Beast thought again.
This was the circle I had seen in Sabina’s vision. Down here, on the floor, I was close enough to see that the thin cracks between the black marble and the rings were caked with residue. It stank of magic and old blood. “Brute. The stuff in the cracks. Is it blood?”
Brute turned and padded to Kojo, sitting at the vampire’s feet, looking over his shoulder at me.
“Vampire?” When Brute didn’t react, I asked, “Vampire of African descent?”
Brute nodded and went to a human security guy. Except she was a woman.
“Female, Caucasian, human?”
Brute nodded, came to me, and sat.
“Were you smelling sacrifices?”
Brute nodded.
“Were children, witch children, sacrificed here?”
Brute nodded. He tapped my booted foot. It took me a moment. Then softly I said, “Blood, like mine? Skinwalker blood?”
Brute nodded.
“Is it old? Like over a hundred years?”
Brute nodded again.
Ka. Ka’s blood was still here, soaked into the floor, so much of it that it still had a scent to Brute’s wolf nose, even after all these years.
CHAPTER 16
It Was Stupid to Use a Handgun as a Club
It was an hour from dawn when we left the warehouse. Bruiser had collected a sample of Ka’s blood from the black magic circle, though it was likely contaminated with other blood and unusable. We had walked through the building from top to bottom for anything I missed on prior visits. As we stepped outside, Storm appeared, sitting on top of an SUV. She was wearing armor like I had worn at the wedding and bristled with weapons. All of our weapons were instantly centered on her. Thema stepped in front of me, protecting me with her body. Quint tried to shove me down to stand over me.
I activated my mic and said, “Stand down.” The weapons—except for Thema’s—were repositioned, but I could smell the intense reactions of my security team. I touched Thema and Quint, each with a single finger, and they stepped aside, their aim never wavering.
Storm’s armor was dark amethyst and matched her purple-, lavender-, and grape-colored hair. It was the first time I had seen her wearing anything non-light-dragony. The security lights limned her with a silver glow, though the light may also have come from inside the rainbow dragon, shining through armor that was less physical and more energy-based than mine. Who knew?
I said, “The Warrior who seeks Peace welcomes Storm.”
“This is a bad place,” Storm said. “Why do the beings enter and leave? Why do they not destroy it?”
“We may,” I said, thinking that a null working over the iron circle, topped by a layer of concrete might suffice.
“Why does the Dark Queen allow the fire thrower, the eaters of souls, the burned one, and all her enemies to watch? They are full of malice.”
Bruiser spoke into my earbuds, “Get her out of here.”
Thema picked me up and raced me toward a second SUV. Like a sack of potatoes. Or a baby. Before I had time to even speak, she had thrown me into the back seat of the SUV. Quint took shotgun. Silent. Weapons out. I rolled to the side. Opened the door. Held out a hand.
“Storm. Join me.”
Instantly the arcenciel was sitting at my side.
Okay that was weird. A security guy slammed my door, and Thema started the engine, wheeling the armored SUV out of the lot.
“My bike!” I shouted, spotting Bitsa in the dark.
“My mate will bring it to your home,” Thema said, gunning the motor, turning into traffic, and then off, slamming me into Storm and back against the door. I pulled off the spine holster that had bruised my back on the turn and buckled in. Thema whirled us again.
“Holy moly, woman. Where did you learn to drive?” I asked.
Thema didn’t answer. She just spun the wheel, making a hard left across traffic. This time I was holding on.
Storm was laughing like a kid on a roller coaster.
I replayed what she had said. “Storm, where are the watchers?”
“The burned one is there,” she pointed.
To my left I saw Sabina, standing in the shadows. For a bare moment, our eyes met. I somehow had expected Leo. Didn’t know which was worse. I caught a glimpse of Brute racing toward Sabina, out of sync with my reality. The SUV swerved again. I could hear Thema talking into her mic, advising the team.
“Where is the Firestarter?” I asked Storm.
“She is preparing to throw fire at the bad place.”
I looked over my shoulder. “Dang.”
“Do you wish my sisters to put out her fires?”
“Yes.” Behind us, I saw a flash of fire. Another. Another. But the spots went dark instantly.
Storm laughed, the sound like bells and wind instruments. “Pearl and Opal enjoy this game. The creature thinks you have found new magic and have stopped her. We will not tell her the error of her ways or show who we are unless she attacks again.”
“Okay. Where is the eater of souls?”
Storm tilted her head, frowning. I could have sworn the lights in her hair twinkled. “One is at the bad place.” She hesitated. “One is above us, on the air. She is angry.”
; I craned my head up, seeing a cloudy, dark gray sky. It was nearly dawn. A vamp was driving the SUV. That might not end well. We needed to be undercover soon. And then it hit me. Eaters of souls. One at the warehouse, one above us. Grandmother? As an owl?
I fished my cell out of my pocket and dialed Ayatas.
“FireWind.”
“The Firestarter is at or in the warehouse. Gramma is a bird flying over my SUV.”
Aya cursed and disconnected.
“You have bad cell phone habits,” I said to my dark screen.
Thema spun the wheel, maneuvering the vehicle down one-way streets the wrong way. I held on as she took an alley, knocking over big plastic garbage bins, nearly hitting an Uber vehicle, taking back ways I knew from riding Bitsa and roaming as Beast.
She braked hard in front of the freebie house. The SUV rocked. Steel shutters I hadn’t even noticed had been cranked shut over the house windows.
Aya was standing on the second-story porch, buck naked except for a thong around his neck strung with tiny bones. He was staring at the sky, a nimbus of skinwalker magic over his body. Already halfway to a shift. Holding his power still. Waiting.
Two guards ripped open the driver’s side doors, one grabbing each of us. Thema and me. Jerking us from the vehicle, standing us on the sidewalk. In a fast exchange, they took off in the SUV. Quint sped to my side.
A light glimmered. Storm, who had been on the passenger side of the vehicle, was standing beside me.
Other guards grabbed us to sweep us inside.
I smelled liver-eater. Heard the flap of wings overhead. Aya leaped into the air, shifting as he did. The sidewalk a story beneath him, only feet from us, cracked and broke, throwing shards into the air as he shed mass. Thema hissed in pain as concrete flew. I smelled her blood. She had stepped in front of me.
I stared. Aya had shifted in middrop. That wasn’t even possible. He was a huge bird, a nine-foot wingspan sweeping the sidewalk as he took flight. Not a Bubo bubo, but maybe a condor of some kind.
