by Faith Hunter
Which made me feel better, but still . . . A vamp with three-inch fangs was no easy prey. Jude was more than six feet six, and his muscles had muscles. The ones on his chest started dancing beneath his thin-knit shirt. If he had been wearing pasties, they would be twirling. Beast hacked with amusement at the image, and suddenly I grinned. Eat his heart, eh? I thought.
My good humor seemed to surprise the big guy. He blinked and vamped out fast, his pupils going wide, sclera suffusing with blood. Jude didn’t have much control for an old vamp. If he didn’t overpower me and kill me in the first rush, I could use that against him. Maybe. If I was very, very lucky.
“This woman murdered our previous Enforcer,” de Allyon said. His expression didn’t change. It hadn’t changed the entire time he’d been in the room. But his scent changed, and I could tell he was not a happy fanghead.
“Point of information,” Bruiser said, his eyes on me. There was speculation in his gaze, and something else. Something like trust. I gave him a slight nod. He said to the gathered, “Personal defense is not murder. There were no witnesses, no challenge, and no resolution. All human police reports were sent to the Outclan Council and we await their ruling.” Which was news to me.
“Human police are of no interest to us,” de Allyon said.
“Maybe not in the past,” a voice said from behind me.
I whipped my head to the back of the room. Rick. The arm of the law. Beside him were the white wolf and the neon green grindy. To his side was Soul, looking like an escapee from a realm of succubae, dressed in layers of misty, shiny gauze that moved in the room’s air currents. I looked over at the chairs, and knew who the fourth chair in the proceedings had been set for. The Psychometry Law Enforcement Department of Homeland Security.
Why was PsyLED involving itself with a blood-feud? My heart started beating fast, too fast, and I took a breath to calm its racing. But the vamps were too focused on Rick to even notice me. Sabina’s face stretched into an unfamiliar, satisfied smile. I thought back to her words, “You drew the eyes of the legal apparatus of this nation with the debacle in Natchez.” Sabina had hatched plans of her own to end this war? Sabina had called PsyLED to the parley? If not her, who else? I looked around the room. No one else. Dang. Go, priestess.
Rick took his place in the vacant seat across from the priestess and said, “PsyLED is interested in these proceedings, and wishes to know how the Vampira Carta handles rogue, Naturaleza vampires.” De Allyon’s vamps bristled at the term “rogue” being applied to them. It was an insult. Rick knew better, which meant he had used the word deliberately. “We are also looking into numerous deaths and disappearances in the Atlanta area among the homeless, as well as the use of possible weapons of mass destruction in Sedona, Seattle, and Boston.”
Weapons of mass destruction? I thought. Oh yeah. Plague was considered a WMD. Now, that I did not consider.
De Allyon’s mouth curled down. “We are not humans, we are not cattle, to be brought beneath the hand of the human law and the human world.”
Sabina said to the gathering, “The Outclan Council has approved the presence of this nonhuman and his nonhuman creatures, and observation by the human law enforcement agency, at this parley.
“The human police have determined that the evidence,” she continued, “in the attack in the city of Asheville, is consistent with personal self-defense, not formal mortal combat, nor murder. The Outclan Council will rule shortly on the conclusion reached by the human law enforcement. For now, we must rule on this point of order.”
To de Allyon she said, “How say you? Do you accept the challenge of Pellissier’s Enforcer? If so, such combat will take place immediately, before the discussion on the agenda resumes.”
De Allyon’s lips drew down in the faintest of frowns. “We accept.”
My breath eased out between my lips. Oddly, though I now had to fight an old, powerful vamp, I relaxed. By his fighting me, the entire blood-feud could be averted and de Allyon would be back under the Vampira Carta and the rule of the Outclan Council. Whether I lived or died, others would survive the bloodbaths recounted in the histories.
Sabina said, “Combat is approved by the council. As Pellissier made the challenge, de Allyon has choice of weapons. Pellissier will have choice of location. De Allyon will decide the number of rounds, not to exceed ten, and no fewer than three. Combat will begin at my count. De Allyon? Weapons.”
“Bare hands,” the Enforcer said. “No defensive gear, no weapons except skill and muscle and what the combatants find in the field of battle.”
Ice flushed though me. That was not what I wanted to hear. Not when I was wearing such cool weapons and when Jude was such a hulk. Not when the field of battle was a bare floor and brick walls. If I shifted, would it be considered cheating? If I shifted, my secret would be out in a very real and dangerous and final way. Beast put a clawed paw on my brain and pressed down, the claws bringing both pain and relief. Unlike my opponent, I wasn’t alone.
Beast sent me an image, and I wondered what would happen if I just pulled a gun and shot the Big Guy. Though there was no guarantee that a bullet would actually pierce the wads of muscle. It might take an RPG. My grin widened, and the bag of muscle’s confidence slipped for a whole second. And then the perfect location for this little fight popped into my mind and I hoped Big Guy remembered that lapse when I killed him.
“Pellissier. Location?”
I was still smiling when I said, “Couturié Forest in the New Orleans City Park.” De Allyon’s Enforcer blinked at that one. So did Leo. Heads turned to me. Yeah, I’d kept something from them, a lot of somethings actually—like being a skinwalker—and if I was going to be outed as a supernat tonight, or killed saving Katie, then I was going to do it on my terms. Beast growled low in my mind, a warning, a challenge. Her strength flooded through me.
Sabina was the only one in the room to show no surprise, and she set her dark eyes on me in consideration. Her head tilted slightly, acknowledging much more than just my choice of location. Acknowledging what I was. “Number of rounds?” she asked de Allyon, while keeping her eyes on me.
“The full ten rounds. But if our people are in the park, how are we to know when a round is complete?” the old vamp asked.
Sabina considered me, the faintest of smiles on her pale, pale face. “Each round shall be one half hour long. If the combat is concluded with the death of one of the participants before the end of the specified number of bouts, or if a participant should surrender and concede the challenge prior to the termination, the bout will end.”
Concession sounded like a pretty great thing on the surface, but I’d learned that if I conceded, the referee—Sabina—would offer me the coup de grâce and kill me. Conceding was a way to ask for mercy when one opponent was totally beaten and the other guy was just playing with him. Like the way Beast played with her food while it was still alive. It was a mercy stroke, not a way to stay among the living.
“Point of clarification and . . . maybe point of privilege,” I said, trying to remember the Rules of Order for asking for something personal before the bout started. “Clarification—no weapons means we fight with the abilities and gifts nature gave us, right?” I didn’t want to be beheaded after the fact for drawing on Beast or shifting.
“That is correct,” Sabina said, her black eyes glinting. Except for Rick, Sabina knew more about what I was than any other supernat here. “And what is your point of privilege?” she asked.
“I would like to keep my personal jewelry with me.” I almost laughed at Leo’s expression, and I thought Bruiser was going to choke. It was such a girlie request. Even better, the bag-a-muscle Enforcer smirked, as if I’d just proven how easy I was going to be to dispatch. Might as well go with the helpless and dumb female act—it seemed to be working. “My gold necklace, and this.” I held up the lion’s tooth. “It’s like, uh, my lucky rabbit’s foot.”
Sabina smiled again, her face softening. It was such a rare thing that fo
r a moment I just stared. “Does de Allyon refuse or reject the personal point of privilege?”
“The woman may do as she wishes,” the vamp said, his tone both irritated and insulting.
“We will retire to the Peristyle, in the City Park, where stairs lead down to the edge of Bayou Metairie. There, the bout will begin upon my order.” Sabina turned to Leo. “Bring the carriages around.” Leo bowed again and Bruiser spoke into his mouthpiece. De Allyon’s people backed toward the door. Pellissier’s vamps followed Leo, leaving me alone in the center of the Nunnery.
Rick walked up to me, standing close. I knew it was him, without looking, and I could feel his concern. “Can you take him?” he whispered. “Bare hands and teeth?”
“Bare claws and fangs,” I said. I turned and met his black eyes with my own black ones, and felt him start, shock shooting through him.
And then he grinned. “I like the new look. So, what?” He glanced after de Allyon. “He knows?”
“He killed my people. Drank their blood. It’s in a history book Leo has.”
“Beautiful woman, undercover, with guns and knives and things that explode. I’m in love.”
I laughed, the sound filling the quiet warehouse. The remaining vamps turned to look, hearing my laughter. “Great lotta good it’s doing me.”
“Being in love or the weapons?” Rick asked.
“Yeah. Both.”
Rick lifted a hand and stroked my jaw. I closed my eyes and leaned into his caress. “Are you going with us to City Park?” I asked.
“I’ll be there. We’ll follow in our vehicle. Don’t get yourself killed, Jane.”
“I’ll do my best.” I opened my eyes and met his. “I may have to break some rules.”
“Like I said. My kinda girl. Just don’t kill any humans and eat their livers, not even with fava beans and a good Chianti.”
“Not planning on either.”
Moments later, we were on the way.
* * *
I was silent on the drive, looking away from the others in the limo, staring into the night. The new moon was in two days’ time, and the final challenge between the masters, de Allyon and Leo, would take place then, assuming I died tonight or failed in some other way.
I had planned as well as I could for this fight, but I had planned to fight a human, not a vamp with three-inch fangs. I needed something to create an edge for myself so I could survive the night. I needed something deadly. Some game-changer. Something to defeat a vamp warrior. But my mind was blank.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Beast Saw Gorilla on TV
The Peristyle was a fancy neoclassical arena—not a building exactly, because it had no walls, only a roof with large Greek-style columns. One of City Park’s oldest structures, it was built in 1907 as a dancing pavilion, and I had seen the place from a distance when roaming as Beast, but I had never been inside it.
Now, as the limo pulled up, the four concrete lions that guarded the open-air structure felt like an omen—that I might survive this coming bout—even if they were African lions and not Puma concolor. Real ducks, geese, and swans were nesting on the banks, sleeping, most with heads under their wings, and as the vamps and I emerged from our vehicles, some of the water birds stirred, wings shifted uneasily. Wind rustled the leaves overhead. A security guard bent to the limo’s window and verified who we were before scampering away into safety. Not that there was any safety here tonight. The Naturaleza were here and they’d guzzle down the plump guard like a cheap beer if they wanted to.
I wandered to the edge of the bayou and looked out over the water. Beast saw an alligator resting near shore, nostrils the only part of it that was above the surface. Small gator. Big birds. Good hunting.
Big Vamp Guy is your prey tonight, I thought at her.
I will be hungry after shift. I will eat big vampire?
No. But you can have all the Canada geese you can catch.
Beast hacked with delight. Good hunt. Hunt and kill Big Prey. Eat flying birds.
Sabina called out, “Gather.” An icy wind came out of nowhere and blasted through my clothes to chill my skin. Leaves swirled down in a dense cloud, sounding like the uneasy souls of the recently dead. The call to gather was as old as the Mithrans themselves, and among the most powerful of their obligations and rituals, and everyone knew that ritual was almost as powerful as magic itself. At that, a thought occurred to me, and I smiled. Yes. I had found my edge—if I could call it that. Edges were for pain and cutting, edges were blades for battle. What I was planning was more like sleight of hand—the art of the stage. If I could pull it off.
The vampire priestess’ magic was cold, like the grave, heavy and cloying. It smelled of old, spoiled blood and despair and ancient pain. I’d felt it before and the weight of it made de Allyon’s power feel minor, like the sting of static electricity when measured against being struck by a lightning bolt. Nothing by comparison. I rubbed my upper arms. I walked from the bayou bank to the covered area, seeing Bruiser and Rick standing close together talking. Seeing the drivers, all human, standing at the cars and trucks. The Tequila Boys, looking vigilant.
I found Wrassler’s eyes on me and I lifted a hand, palm up, questioning. He shook his head. Nothing yet. Katie was still a prisoner; Alex and the Vodka Boys were still searching. He tossed me my go-bag from the car, and I caught it one handed.
“The contestants will remove their weapons,” Sabina said. It was a command, and I felt the urge, the need, to comply. I’d gone to a lot of trouble to look like this; it was a shame to ruin it. But I stepped to a table at the far side of the pavilion and unstrapped the harness for the M4, laying it on the surface. Started to pull guns, ejecting the magazines and the rounds in the chambers, and laying them beside the shotgun. The long knives followed, while I thought about the gun in my hair. I could get it out, but I’d rather no one know it was ever there, so timing was important. When Jude pulled out a knife with a jewel-encrusted handle, attracting the attention of the vamps, I lifted the braid and eased the tiny gun out, setting it with the .38 from my boot. The short-bladed throwing knives followed, then the stakes. My protective collars. My crosses in the tiny lead-lined pouch that was sewn into my pants. Rather than causing an incident, I ripped the pouch out. Leo’s designer would be livid, and if I survived, I’d suffer for this one.
Across the way, the Big Guy was now weaponless—except for the muscles, teeth, talons, and his skills, which I expected were enough all on their own—and was wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt, boots, and a happy, fanged grin. I had the feeling that if he caught me first, he was going to play with me for a while before killing me. And that play wouldn’t involve kiddie games and coloring books.
I unbuttoned the tight vest, placed it by the guns, and pulled the tee over my head, the boots off my feet. My skin pebbled in the icy air. I slid a pair of flip-flops onto my feet, leaving the go-bag on the table. When I was done, I was wearing only pants, undies, jogging bra, flip-flops, my necklace, and the contact lenses. The vamps were all looking at me now, taking in the bare skin, my coppery coloring bleached out by the night and the park lights, my scent whipped away by the wind. My edge, I thought. Time to see if I can do this.
I reached up and started to unbraid my hair, moving slowly, letting them look. I took measured steps, circling the Peristyle with slow precision. When I reached a stone lion, I let my hands flow across the mane, the stone cool and rough on my fingers. I bent my body across the lion and scraped with my gold nugget so I could find my way back to this spot, even if I lost myself in Beast.
I lifted my hands back to my hair, and it danced in the breeze like Medusa’s snakes as I unbraided it, whirling and whipping in the wind. My black eyes stared the vamps down, calm and dispassionate. My half-bound hair whipped across the lion, and I could feel the power of the vamps’ combined gazes, watching me. I had no magic of my own except to shift form, but if I survived, I wanted these vamps to remember me, maybe with something like fear. That was
a magic all its own.
Sabina said, “Time?”
De Allyon’s heir said, “Ten twenty-five.”
Sabina looked back and forth between the contestants as I worked on my hair and watched the Big Guy Vamp I was going to have to kill. I didn’t want to. I really had no desire to kill him. But I would have no choice. Literally, it was him or me. My hair whipped in the rising breeze, flowing like black snakes in a slow current. Big Guy was watching me, staring at the hair-handle I was providing him, confident to the point of stupidity, which I wanted to encourage. I grinned at him and shook out my hair, timing it perfectly. “Catch me, catch me, if you can,” I sang out, “you big, bumbling buffoon.”
“Begin,” Sabina said.
Before the word was half-formed, Beast slammed her speed into me and I took off, racing like the anxious wind, into the night. Beast’s sight took over, turning the world bright and silvery. I was into the shadows before anyone saw me move. I ripped off the bra, the pants and panties, running between trees, the concrete path bruising my soles through the flip-flops.
I couldn’t hear the Big Guy behind me. Vamps are silent predators, even at full speed. I was betting everything on him wanting to play cat and mouse with me, hunt me slowly, thinking to wear me out physically and then drain me painfully, not attack and kill fast. I turned sharply left and raced along a rabbit path, moving hard crosswind now, hoping the cold breeze would carry my scent away from the pursuing vamp.
I reached up and wrapped one fist around the mountain lion tooth. I’m gonna need a fast shift, Beast.
Will hurt.
Yeah. It will. Do it anyway. As I ran, I let my mind drop into the gray place of the change, the place where skinwalker magics rested. The place of the snake that rests at the heart of all beings. I rounded into another narrow path and dove into the brush, dropped to my belly, and crawled deep into the scrub. Now, I thought.
