True Dead

by Faith Hunter

  On the recording, the Firestarter’s voice said, “All our aims have been met except taking the crown and the amulets. We have the outclan priestess. We will not fail.”

  My heart wrenched.

  There were gasps throughout the gym, even vamps taking a shocked breath.

  I hadn’t heard this part of the recording. There was no way they had Sabina. It was impossible. I had last seen her at the attack on the warehouse. My eyes found Bruiser’s, his shocked too. The timelines didn’t work unless they took Sabina the instant after I saw her. That . . . that was very possible. Damn.

  A different voice spoke, Ka saying, “The creature has humans digging at Sabina’s chapel. They will find the amulets and the icons, and we will take them.”

  Adan said, “The old way of life will return, under our control.”

  “Stop,” I said when I could finally speak. The recording went silent.

  I closed my eyes, fighting a paralyzing fury. I took three short breaths, rage like a wildfire in my blood. They had Sabina. Grandmother had Sabina.

  I inhaled deeply and blew out a hard breath, letting the smell of my rage breathe into the room. My fangs flashing, I snarled. Growled. The vibration was like a generator filling the room. Fearsome. Magnificent. My rage roared at the vamps, Choke on the very idea of me!

  I reined back on my anger and pulled on the power of le breloque and also on all the knowledge I had about vamps. This was a delicate negotiation, not a violent one. I didn’t look at Bruiser. “Consort. Onorio. I ask you a difficult thing. Knowing that the guilty Mithran traitors among us will be judged tonight, are you willing to partially drain and question them?”

  “You do not ask me to bind them, My Queen? You would leave them free to do you harm?”

  Bruiser stared at me, but I didn’t look back. I knew how he felt about binding anyone. He had been bound by Leo and had done things that still gave him nightmares, thinking they were good and perfect and Leo was good and perfect as well. But our enemies had Sabina. They had breached our defenses. Bruiser would use any gift to keep me safe.

  That said, vamps bound by Onorios were even less independent than humans bound by vamps. Vamps bound by Onorios were clingy and had to be cared for like pets. But . . . these vamps were traitors and murderers, and I was a new predator in a vamp kingdom. I was making a statement. So was he. And I needed to know where Sabina was.

  “Not by you, Consort. These are my enemies. They’re part of a war against this reign. They’re part of the group who attacked”—I paused as grief and fury welled up in me, emotions I had no time for right now—“and killed Derek and Storm. They will never be free to do me or mine harm.” After an uncomfortable silence, I looked at him and willed him to understand that I hated what I was doing.

  “Yes, My Queen,” he said, softly.

  I met his eyes. They were kind and vaguely amused. Yeah. He got it.

  “I am Onorio. I will drain and question the Mithrans who resist you. I will not bind them.”

  “Koun, my Executioner,” I said. “When my Consort has taken from the prisoners’ minds what he will, and should I deem death a reasonable judgment, you shall behead the guilty, here in this room, to be witnessed by all.” I forced the last of the heated fury away into a deep part of me where the frozen grief for Derek and Storm were stored, the fire and the ice coexisting inside me.

  “Yes, My Queen. It will be my joy.” Koun snapped his fingers and pointed to a blood-servant. “You. Bring my ax.” He returned his eyes to me. “To protect My Queen’s most precious floors, it will take two strokes of the ax. This will be infinitely more painful.”

  I didn’t agree or disagree. “Tonight, traitors will be weeded out.” I showed my fangs. “And dealt with. One. By. One.”

  Two other Mithrans bolted and were flipped and staked.

  Their blood scent filled the room. They smelled of Ka. They had drunk from her. Fed her.

  “Consort,” I said.

  “I am your servant.” He moved into position and paused, looking them over. “And their humans, My Queen?” he asked.

  “Where they end up is up to you, Consort.”

  “I am honored at My Queen’s trust.”

  I gave that regal nod again, remembering the white werewolf nodding, figuring I looked just as stupid.

  With a measured step, Bruiser walked to the closest staked vamp, the woman who had tried to run first. Bruiser knelt beside her and put his hand on her forehead. A guard pulled out the stake with the soft sucking sound of wood on flesh. The vamp screamed. She lifted a hand. Dropped it and went eerily still. Bruiser’s eyebrows drew together over his Roman nose; a puzzled look crossed his face. Then a lot of nothing happened. It felt as if it was taking too long, but no one moved.

  My anger was contained in the dark crevasses of my soul. Breathing was easier. I hadn’t noticed how hard it had been to take in air since Derek and Storm died. I hadn’t noticed how high my heart rate had been. Now I was doing something. Vengeful Cat. The I/we of Beast. Inside me, Beast panted softly, her energy gathered close, ready for attack.

  After an eternity, Bruiser stood, his face still faintly puzzled, telling me he got something from her mind that left him confused. “She will answer your questions, My Queen.”

  “Who is your Blood Master?” I asked her.

  The female vamp said, “My master is Shaun MacLaughlinn, the wearer of the Snake of Snakes.”

  No surprise. “Why Shaun? Why did you swear to him?”

  “He is food for no master,” she said with pride. “He drinks from the Heir of the Sons of Darkness.”

  That caught my attention and Bruiser’s too. He frowned hard, his eyes going distant as he did a mental search for such a person.

  In my ear, Alex murmured, “On it.”

  The vamp said, “The Heir gave unto him the amulet called the Snake of Snakes, and from it he acquires great power. He feeds from the Heir, and when the Heir comes, all the world will be restored.”

  The Sons of Darkness, the creators of vamps were dead. True dead. Deader than dead. And this was the first time I’d heard about an heir. Lucky me. I let my voice become a growl. “The name of the heir, this master that Shaun feeds from?”

  “Mainet Pellissier.”

  I had seen that name recently. Something dark and icy stabbed through me as I recalled where I had seen the name Mainet. Once long ago in the vamp bloodlines, and recently, handwritten in Immanuel’s journal, on the front page. Immanuel Justinus Henri Mainet Pellissier, in the year of our Lord, Seventeen Ninety.

  Immanuel, the u’tlun’ta, and Leo’s son and heir, had been named after him.

  She sat up, suddenly, and reached for Bruiser. I’d seen that expression on a vamp’s face before. It was the beginning of Onorio binding.

  “This is all that I can do without binding her, My Queen,” Bruiser said.

  “Stake her,” I said to the blood-servant who still held the dripping stake. The wood floors were going to be hard to clean with all this dried blood on them. To Bruiser, I added, “Drain that one,” and pointed at the next in line.

  It took four vamps before we found another one Bruiser could drain deeply enough to control without binding him. From that one, we learned that this Mainet fanghead was still in Europe. A problem for another day, no matter what he had planned.

  I had always wondered who had fed the real Immanuel to a nutso skinwalker u’tlun’ta and then put that imposter in place. Who had pulled all the strings? The black magic would have given Immanuel’s u’tlun’ta memories but not muscle memory, not physical skills, not body movements and emotions. Not handwriting. Who had taught that imposter the minutiae he needed to walk among vamps. Who had provided the teachers?

  A freaking dang Pellissier, of course. Why the hell not?

  However. Shaun was our problem right now, and he had the fancy snake amul
et that gave him some kind of magical power or protection. Snake armbands were common amulet forms, because they could be worn under or over clothes, could be filled with multiple magical workings, and could double as jewelry, which allowed hands-free fighting. I sometimes wore empty snake armband amulets as part of my ceremonial gear.

  I asked more questions. Got a lot of jibber jabber gobbledygook.

  I looked at Koun. “Stake these vamps. Toss them all into the sub-five basement. Put guards all around them armed with silver blades and shotguns loaded with the special silver-lead fléchette rounds. If one of the vamps so much as twitches, kill the vamp true dead and put the body in the sun. Separate their humans. Secure them in the breakroom The humans will go to new masters for incorporation into any clans willing to accept them. That means throughout the entire U.S.”

  In the crowd, several humans panicked, and Bruiser’s eyes tracked them. “Yes, My Queen,” he said.

  Loudly Koun said, “Let it be recorded. The Dark Queen has shown mercy to her enemies. My blade shall not be fed. For now.”

  I thought that was a little too poetic and hopeful, but I didn’t say so.

  * * *

  * * *

  It was an hour before dawn when my team and I left HQ via the front door. Beast lent me her night vision, turning the world silver and gray and vibrant green.

  Jane did not let I/we/us drink vampire blood, Beast thought at me. Jane wasted good strong vampire blood.

  Maybe next time we’re in Beast form, I thought back.

  We were halfway down the long steps when the Glob grew suddenly, blisteringly hot in my pocket. “Attack,” I shouted, warning. I leaped from the stairs, out of the way. Midair, Beast-fast, I yanked the Glob from its padded pocket, pulled open another pocket, and wrapped the Glob in the hanky I kept there so I could hold it. Raising the weapon high over my head, I landed in the parking area on toe pads and one knobby hand, protected at my back by the building. A familiar place. I’d try not to die this time. Eli and Bruiser dropped to either side of me. Koun and Thema in front of me. Lightning flashed from the sky and exploded in the center of the parking area. Blinding. I blinked against the retinal burn to see a faint glow in the center of the parking area.

  Ka stood there.

  Grandmother was standing at one side, Monique, her head leaking, was propped at her other side.

  “Nice magic trick,” I muttered.

  Thema laughed.

  But the Glob went so hot it burned through the cloth in my hand. The stench of scorched cotton and u’tlun’ta sweat filled the air. I had grabbed from the wrong pocket. The cloth wasn’t a clean hanky. I had grabbed the scrap of Grandmother’s cloth shift from the sweathouse.

  Hayalasti Sixmankiller threw back her head in a wordless scream. Her back arched. Her polluted skinwalker magic rushed out of her, toward the heating Glob and her sweat. She started to shift, changing shape. Grandmother’s hair lit with flames that shot high. Aya leaped at her, the two forms tumbling into the darkness.

  Ka took a step toward me. Her body wavered, shimmered. Shifted. Aurelia took the next step forward. She wavered. Again she was Ka, and her eyes were wild, like a rabid fox, trying to hold her thoughts together. But she was full of arcenciel blood. “I miscalculated,” she said, as magic coiled and swirled around her, and once again she was Aurelia.

  The Firestarter was more sane, and this one’s magic was untouched by the Glob, but I could see it, a thick mist of black and scarlet buzzing with motes of orange power. The mist of energies was heavy, held protected by a thin layer of foul green. “I need another host to stabilize my forms,” she said.

  Grandmother stepped in from the dark, looking just fine.

  Where was Aya?

  “She is mine,” Grandmother said.

  Ka reappeared. “I need the locket,” Ka said. “Join me, sister.”

  Sister . . . Shock scorched through me. Turn of phrase? Or some kind of horrible reality?

  “Join us,” Ka said.

  “No way under heaven,” I said.

  Everything happened fastfastfast.

  Fire swirled around Ka/Aurelia’s hand as she raised it high. The fire formed into a ball of power so bright it blinded. She whipped back her arm to throw it.

  Eli fired. Ka took five shots midcenter.

  “Nooo,” I whispered, the sound lost beneath the gunfire.

  Ka/Aurelia staggered. Healed in Ka shape. She morphed back into the Firestarter. Faster than I could follow, she curled her hands. That waiting magic gathered in her palms. She threw two fireballs. Dead center at us. The fireballs scarcely left her palms when they sputtered and died.

  Pearl and Opal dove at Aurelia, who was holding an iron blade.

  “Iron!” I shouted.

  The two dragons vanished. Eli fired again. And again. He changed out mags. Kept firing. Ka laughed, changing forms over and over. She flung a hand at Eli. A different magic slithered toward him, snaky and twisted.

  Opal reemerged for a second and shouted.

  Eli’s weapon misfired.

  Opal’s magic batted Ka’s away and she disappeared again.

  My heart stuck in my throat.

  Eli was okay.

  Ka walked toward me, closing the space between us.

  Opal and Pearl reappeared, their inner light flashing, blinding. Opal thrashed her barbed tail at Ka.

  Ka jumped out of the way. Slipped past the barbs and continued toward me, dancing past the tail.

  Knowing he would hear even over any gunfire deafness, I whispered, “Koun.”

  Koun rotated around us all, his body in a graceful, deadly spin, splendid in the night.

  Eli pulled two more weapons, but he didn’t try to fire, his eyes tracking between Ka and me.

  Koun’s executioner ax stretched out behind him, a longsword in his other hand. In a perfect cut, his sword took Ka’s right hand. His body spinning, his ax took Monique’s head. Opal and Pearl swooped down and caught the head. The two arcenciels flipped again, tails in graceful arcs, throwing rainbow lights against the stairs and the outer walls. The arcenciels vanished. Taking the head with them, like a trophy.

  Ka lifted her stump and stared at it. It pulsed blood. A lot of blood.

  Monique didn’t bleed much. Her body simply folded down into a heap. She was gone.

  Koun tripped Ka, slammed his sword hilt across her jaw hard enough to stun her, and watched her head bounce on the concrete. He knelt beside her and applied a tourniquet to her stump. Ka shook her head but didn’t fight. She held her stump to her horrified face, the blood still oozing out. With her other hand, she reached over and picked up her severed hand. Koun snapped multiple null cuffs onto her head and each arm. She shimmered and tried to shift, but she had waited too long, the null cuffs doing their job. There was no way she could change shape in the hope of reattaching her hand. Koun used silver plated zip strips to secure Ka’s elbows together behind her back, and her ankles together.

  From down the street, tires squealed. The stink of vamp rose on the air before weakening as cars pulled away. I knew this smell. Some of the makeshift clan we had fought in Asheville had been waiting for phase two of an attack that hadn’t started well. The backup troops were now abandoning ship. Shaun MacLaughlinn and his clan of misfits and psychopath fangheads had been part of the assault. Shaun and I were on a collision course. The day he no longer had a head couldn’t come soon enough.

  Aya reappeared from the darkness.

  Relief scoured through me. My brother was alive.

  Grandmother was draped over his shoulder. I smelled Aya’s blood. She had wounded him again. He had not killed her. Again. But this time Grandmother was wrapped in null cuffs, six sets of the new cuffs created by the Seattle coven for the military and PsyLED, shackles that stopped all magical activity. The null cuffs were duct tapped in place. Yet, even boun
d, Granny shimmered and changed shape. Her magic was stronger by far than Ka’s. She formed from Hayalasti Sixmankiller into a white female with gray hair. Into a young blond woman. And then she shifted again and again, back to back, so fast I almost missed it. She was . . .

  Sabina.

  She had killed and eaten Sabina.

  I had seen Sabina when we left the warehouse after the attack there. Grandmother had been in the air at that time, a huge bird. She had to have taken Sabina between then and the last conversation in Raisin’s office . . . and eaten the priestess. I hadn’t kept the outclan priestess protected. The ancient vampire hadn’t been safe here in my own city.

  Grandmother screamed when she saw me. “You! You are the cause of all of this!” She writhed in Aya’s arms. Aya nearly fell back, struggling to hold her. “Kill her, my son!” she screamed.

  “No. I renounce you,” Aya said, his voice thick and full of history and pain.

  Ka began to moan, weeping softly.

  Bruiser knelt beside Grandmother in the parking area and wrapped his long fingers around her head. “Shhhh,” he whispered. “Shhhh. All is well.”

  Grandmother whimpered and shook. She became Sabina again. Sabina looked at me. I knew in that moment that Sabina was, in some form, in some manner, still fully conscious within Grandmother, just as Beast was alive in me. Or . . . perhaps just as I was alive in Beast. That was a scary thought.

  “I was a fool. I thought I could reason with her as I did so long ago. I let her take me,” Sabina said.

  “All is well,” Bruiser whispered, his lips close to Sabina / Grandmother’s forehead, his hands gripping there.

  She writhed and shifted again into Grandmother. “All is not well,” Grandmother gasped, breathing fast. Her entire body was quivering. “All has not been well since that one”—she looked at me—“killed Tsu Tsu Inoli.” She looked at Aya, “He was mine. He was in place. Ka and I were ready to return the world to its rightful form.” She screeched, “She killed my son!”