by Marie Castle
Thoughts of injuries forced me to look around. The streets were packed. If there was going to be a fight, it needed to be elsewhere.
The bulkiest of the vampires removed his shades. I buried my urge to roll my eyes. Like people wouldn’t know he was Kin just because they didn’t see the glowing irises. Puleeze, the fact that he wasn’t breathing was a dead giveaway.
“Miss Delacy.” He opened the long car’s rear door. “Her Majesty requests your presence.”
The car’s crest belonged to Seth, NOLA’s Master Vamp, King of the Louisiana Vampires, and head of the Southern States. (Yeah, I know, he had way too many titles.) But when the Kin said “Her Majesty,” he wasn’t referring to Seth’s sister, Serena, who also happened to be my friend. Serena preferred to travel alone, in more low-key vehicles (to her brother’s continued ire). I ignored the waiting vampire, simply looking at my gray-eyed protector in question.
Jacq shook her head. “If you decide to go, I won’t hold you here.” She gripped my hand a fraction tighter, her actions belying her words. “It’s your decision.” Her voice, as whiskey-smooth as ever, was pitched low, though we both knew it offered only the illusion of privacy. The Kin, with their sharp ears, could’ve heard us from a block over, much less their position only a few feet away.
Jacq caressed my cheek. I closed my eyes briefly, savoring the hot magic trailing over my skin. But cutting off my sight also helped me focus on our mental bond. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was saying goodbye. I could almost hear the words I thought we’d have more time ringing through our ever-deepening connection. The silly woman had been dogging my steps for days, going so far as to sleep on my lumpy, too short couch. Why she thought tonight would be any different, me getting in that car without her, was beyond me.
I opened my eyes, searching Jacq’s face for clues as she continued, “Whatever you decide, do it without regrets. I don’t want anything to come between us.” She cut her eyes to the waiting car, her speech becoming more formal as an icy curtain fell over her expression, hiding her heart from everyone but me. “But if something must, I’d rather it be a distance I can travel or a wall I can climb, rather than a past I cannot undo.”
I looked from the vampire’s stoic face to the idling limo’s open door to Jacq. With the donning of her cold mask, I could feel Jacq gently but steadily pulling away from our emotional link. In my mind, I grabbed the bond, not forcing her to stay, but showing her I’d fight with power and determination to keep her there. As I wrestled with her internally, wielding hope and love like psychic chains to bind her tighter still, I rushed to add my words to the battle.
“There are a lot of things in life I regret.” I spoke softly, raising my hand to hold hers against my cheek, laying my fingers in the creases between hers, fitting our hands together. “But not this. Not now. Not you and me.”
I lifted my chin, meeting the eyes of the woman who’d become the living embodiment of my totem, my bright phoenix, and forged ahead. “But I live with the wrong choices, the paths untraveled, the lives lost, and I never hold those regrets against anyone but myself. So, if you have some reason that you think I’ll regret getting in that car or not getting in that car, then tell me. Because I won’t have anything between us, either.” My mind flashed to an hourglass, grains of sand trickling away, carrying my life with them. “At least, nothing that we can avoid…like the fear of unspoken words.”
I blinked once, keeping my eyes wide. This was not goodbye, damn it. And there was no way I was going to get all misty-eyed in front of a vampire wearing wingtips. No longer even pretending not to listen, the vamp looked from us to his watch. Don’t get me wrong. The undead could take a long walk off a short pier into a bright pool of sunshine for all I cared. I was not ashamed of what Jacq made me feel. But I’d never live it down if I started crying and it got back to Serena. That bloody Vampire Queen had a mind like a magical mousetrap. If she ever heard I’d so much as sniffled in public, she’d tease me until I was dead, reanimate my corpse, and do it all over again.
It was Jacq’s turn to close her eyes. I held my breath, feeling blind without that gray window into her thoughts. An infinitely long moment passed before she sighed and blinked. As her gaze once again locked with mine, something in her shifted, and I breathed deep. Her body relaxed, as if a decision had been made, and with it, a demon exorcised. The icy curtain lifted and she stopped fighting our bond, letting it flow back into place like the river of love it had become to the dry bed of my heart. Before her husky words even began, I wanted to kiss her. And kiss her I would. Soon. But not the kiss goodbye she expected. No, this would be a kiss hello. Because, little-by-little, this woman was showing me pieces of her soul. And, in that moment, I might have fallen in love with her all over again.
“You, cher, are a curiously honest woman. You keep secrets. Yet, you hide nothing of yourself. But the things that you don’t know about yourself, the secrets that have been kept from you, tear at your heart. I can feel it in here.” She brought our joined hands to rest over her breast. “And your pain is mine.”
I blinked again, restraining that dreaded sniffle. A public corner in the heart of the city beneath the sea, with more than one nosy eavesdropper, was not the place for this talk. But there was no way in hell I was going to stop her now.
Jacq continued, “And maybe there’s a good reason for that hurt. There’s so much you don’t know, probably won’t ever know.” She swallowed, her voice unnaturally calm as she added, “unless you go now.” In my heart, I knew what she was saying: I don’t want you to go, but I can’t ask you to stay.
The truth was evident in her eyes. Jacq believed the answers she spoke of would decide my decision. And maybe she was right. Maybe the answers I’d been seeking were waiting inside that limo. My gut seemed to think so. And part of me wondered if it wasn’t that possibility, more than the aura of powerful magic rolling out of the car, pushing through my shields, that had my demon-half clawing the walls to be released from its cage—before it was forced to reveal itself in the full moon’s light.
Questions. Answers. Power. Demons and Blood. All should matter. But they didn’t. Not as much as this moment. Not as much as what I felt for Jacq. Not as much as what she felt for me in return.
I raised our joined hands to cup her face before pulling her down for a brief but no less passionate kiss—my previous reticence to public displays of affection having been thrown out the proverbial window…along with my sanity. I held her face close to mine as I said, “There’s only one answer I’m interested in right now: Would you go with me? Because if not, we’ll both walk away.” I smiled, adding sweetly for the benefit of the oh-so-serious suits surrounding the car, “And whoever’s in the over-polished tin can can go find another runner to dig them out of whatever hole they’ve landed themselves into.”
Jacq’s eyes registered shock then pleasure before she laughed quietly. Her warm breath brushed my still tingling lips. Her arm wrapped around my waist for a tight hug. Up until now I’d been a loner, so I could understand why she’d think I’d go it alone. But a little understanding and her current half-smile’s delectable dimple wouldn’t get her out of a lecture later.
The happiness quickly faded from her eyes. “If I’m right about who’s waiting, then I won’t be welcome, and my presence might do more harm than good.”
Meaning I might not get my answers.
I didn’t have to think about it. But I did, looking at Jacq, seeing her. Her loveliness. Her courage. Her strong, selfless heart. And I answered with the honest surety garnered from a lifetime of gauging people by their actions. “My question still stands.”
She nodded just once, her smile returning. “As my lady commands.” At my arched brow, she added, “It’s your show, darlin’.”
I bit my lip, hiding a smile. I found it irresistibly cute when her badass immortal self tried to talk all modern. But from the twinkle in her eye I knew that she knew…and that she was going to milk my reaction for all
it was worth.
I turned to face the vampire. Leaning back against Jacq, I wrapped her hands around my waist. My statement was clear, even before I said, “Where I go, she goes. And I’ll have your blood oath upon your loyalty to your Master that we won’t be harmed—in any way.”
He started to flash his fangs in a practiced smile but stopped as I added, “And that includes mind and magic games, along with the usual physical promises of good health.” My look was pointed. At the vampire’s scowl, I felt Jacq’s silent laughter against my back. There was a quick conference as he murmured into his headset before opening the door further with a bow.
The Kin’s eyes flickered red before resuming their normal, nearly black stare. In a tone surprisingly mellow for such a broad-chested man, he said, “You have my vow. More notably, you have the Queen’s.” I started to move forward. He raised his hand. “But a warning, little witch. Seth is my Master, but Serena’s my friend. And the friend of my friend is my own.”
My expression remained neutral. He’d said a warning, and his tone implied it. But heck if I knew what it was. Still, if it delayed climbing in the limo, I’d listen.
He smiled again, this time fully, showing a set of glistening white fangs before continuing in a much deeper, more serious voice. “But a vampire’s loyalties always lie first with his Master. As they say, so the blood flows, so the Kin goes.” He slipped his shades back on and moved to stand behind the door, opening it further. He continued, more drolly. “I’d suggest you hurry. Once you reach a certain point, patience often decreases with age.”
Though it seemed he was referring to the car’s occupants, I had a feeling that the vamp’s warning had everything to do with someone else. Someone who wouldn’t tell me himself that he was running out of patience.
I stared into the shadowy interior, trying to pierce the darkness. That extra sense—the one that sometimes felt like an Alpine skier, skis half-hanging off the edge of a steep cliff, anticipating and fearing the plunge—said that this was one of those moments that would define my life. Did I stay or go?
With little to lose and much to gain (or so I hoped), I chose the latter. Just before I ducked to enter the car’s doorway, I saw our reflection in the limo’s windows. Jacq looked the same, but the mirrored Cate’s eyes held an eagerness I didn’t feel. Keeping my hand in Jacq’s, I moved into the car, sliding across the cool, light-tan leather. Not that I thought my detective would back out. But for all my attitude with the vamp, I was still nervous. Her touch and the increased clarity of her mind in mine that it afforded soothed me. We were barely settled before the car started moving. Jupiter’s trumpet trilled as a clock somewhere began to chime.
Midnight. The witching hour. How appropriate.
As the car moved forward, I couldn’t help but wonder if our coach would turn into a pumpkin. Although, considering my once black, now a more faded dark-blue jeans and similarly faded dark-blue shirt, perhaps I was the scruffy mouse and they would hitch me up to pull the damn thing. Jacq didn’t say a word, but I could feel her amusement in my head. She had obviously caught something of my thoughts. Maybe my elegant warrior liked the scruffy look. But that was an experiment for later. Much later.
We sat there, unspeaking. Behind tinted windows the sights of New Orleans slowly passed. Like the dim glow of a flickering bulb, streetlights flashed in and out, painting Jacq and me in a wash of shadows. The ever-changing light made it impossible for my eyes to adjust. Facing us, two figures sat just outside the light’s reach. No doubt the Kin, with their heightened senses, had no need for the light and had disengaged the bulb. I was certain that Jacq, with her own enhanced eyesight, could see our hosts, but her thoughts were unworried. She was waiting for me to speak. And I was waiting on our hosts, not ready to announce my limitations, though they likely already knew or would remember soon.
So I relaxed, letting my magic do what my eyes could not. For anything else, I’d have to wait until we reached an area where the light didn’t constantly shift. Or until some courteous soul remembered how shortsighted we mortals be and sent up a flare. Although with a magical wake flowing behind us big enough to swamp a double-decker full of Japanese tourists, anyone in NOLA with an ounce of magic would know where we were without the additional help.
I began the process of lowering my magical shielding and felt the almost undetectable touch of a power-probe as the car’s other occupants, too, took our measure. Offended, my demon-half rattled its cage, testing the bars. Until I eased my protections, I couldn’t return the favor, having shielded tightly all night, not wanting anything, including the jumble of magic flowing through the city’s epicenter, to distract me from the woman now seated beside me.
Jacq squeezed my hand. Though it went against her nature, she was hanging back, letting me take the lead. She’d said it was my show and was honoring her word. I flashed her a small, tight smile. She winked at me. Jacqueline Slone was racking up some major brownie points, and she darn well knew it.
There was a smile on my face as I peeked past my shields, careful to keep my fire leashed and the beast that was my demon-half confined. But I didn’t have far to look as my search stopped short, striking a wall of breath-stealing power. It permeated the air, pressing into every available crack. Holy shit. Or was that unholy shit? I didn’t know who, but I knew what they were.
Demons.
The word echoed in my head, even as Jacq stiffened, her grip tightening. I knew without asking that she’d suspected as much. But thinking and knowing were often two very different things.
Like a thousand pounds of water forcing its way through a cracked dam, the demon magic pounded into me, threatening to wash away my shields and drown my mind in the process. I should have expected this. Even when fully shielded on Bourbon Street’s sidewalk, I’d sensed this power’s outer edges. I’d been confident that I could handle whatever they were packing. I was wrong. I hadn’t expected the magic to be so invasive…so aggressive. Now I was in the middle of it, and there was an ever-widening opening in my protection. The wolves were at the door, and I’d just opened it, saying, “Oh, do please come in an’ sit a spell.” And in case you need a translation, let me say it again in simpler words. I was completely. And utterly. Screwed.
I threw everything I had into shoring up my shields, temporarily patching the hole, leaning a great deal of magic against it to hold the alien force at bay. Jacq squeezed my hand, and I felt her concern and added strength in my mind. Her hot magic pooled between our palms, a reserve offered to help me, but I resisted drawing on it. Something within me said this was a challenge, one I had to resist on my own.
The worst part was that the demons didn’t even seem aware of the harm their magic had done. In fact, the magic became more concentrated. It was like a man with halitosis not understanding why the room had suddenly cleared.
Or maybe they only played the fool. The latter seemed more likely as one of the figures leaned forward. With a barely audible electric buzz, a set of muted lights popped to life. Still softly panting from the magical gauntlet I’d just run, I blinked several times, forcing my eyes to adjust faster.
“There, that’s better. We can’t have you frying your brain simply to get a quick peek, now can we?”
The cheerful tenor with no noticeable accent came from the man seated directly across from Jacq. His black hair, streaked like JJ’s with a white forelock, and dark charcoal Armani suit could’ve belonged to anyone. (Well, anyone with a big enough roll of C-notes.) But the blue eyes were shockingly familiar, as were the matching eyes of the silver-haired woman seated at his side. Unlike my Nana, whose hair was more salt and pepper, this woman’s short, elegant do was so silver it was nearly white. The color implied extreme age, but the face was wrinkled in a minimal, graceful manner that attested to either amazing genes or the world’s best plastic surgeon.
My gaze met amused eyes. Caught staring, I blushed but didn’t look away. The silver-haired woman said, “You flatter me, Miss Delacy. I hope you’
ll believe me when I say, it must be as you say ‘good genes,’ since this face has been altered only by time.”
I didn’t care if Serena or Jacq took an occasional rummage around my mind, but I didn’t appreciate a stranger’s intrusion. As if synchronized, my shields went into place as Jacq battened down her own hatches. All that was left open was the mental bond connecting us.
The silver-haired woman turned, shrewdly eyeing my elegant warrior, whose hand was still in mine. “Genes, I like this human word. Apt, considering the circumstances. What do you think, Miss Delacy?”
The silence lengthened as the car slowed, waiting for the vampires, who were keeping pace outside, to lower the barricades. Distracted by the magic still pushing against my mind, I realized, belatedly, that they awaited my response. I watched the two demons, trying to focus on anything but the magic buzzing in my ears, singing to my blood, calling forth something in me that I didn’t presently want to deal with. “Honestly,” I said, “I don’t have a friggin’ clue.” I cut my eyes from the demoness’s eerily familiar light blue ones to her companion, who was trying, unsuccessfully, to strangle a laugh. I shifted closer to Jacq, letting my thigh rest against hers.
Waving my hand, I tried again, hoping to hide my weariness with politeness. “Please, excuse me. My patience with all this cloak and dagger sh…stuff has worn thin this week. I’m certain you didn’t invite us here to expand your vocabulary, so maybe you could explain what it is that I can do for you—” I searched for a proper title, finally saying, “Ma’am.” She wasn’t my majesty. Heck, I didn’t even know what she was Queen of. But since she was a demon, I had a sinking suspicion she wasn’t something as benign as the Queen of Hearts looking for her tarts. It didn’t seem right to call a woman wearing a nearly white silk top and skirt that probably cost more than my Jeep, “Miss.” And I didn’t think she would appreciate my impression of Jerry Lee Lewis’s, “Hey laaay-deeeee.” So, ma’am it was.
