“Yes,” she said.
“Damn.”
“Why should that matter? This is a neutral place. We have all agreed to that.”
I shook my head. “For tonight you’re safe, but anything that Elizabeth knew, the Master of Beasts knows. By tomorrow this may not be a safe haven.”
“Do you know that for sure?” she asked.
“No, but I don’t know for sure that you will be safe either.”
She nodded. “Very well. Take Sylvie with you, then, but Rafael must stay here at least for one night. I will make plans to move him by tomorrow.” She looked around at all the medical equipment. “We can’t take it all, but we’ll do what we can. Now go talk to our king.” She left the room.
I was suddenly alone in the hush of the basement. I looked at Rafael. They’d arranged a sort of tent of a sheet over his body, covered but not touching. The naked skin was covered in salve but no bandages. Anything they could put on it would hurt worse than nothing. They were treating it sort of like a burn. I didn’t know everything they’d done to treat him because I’d been off getting my hand stitched up part of the time.
I walked around the table so that Rafael wouldn’t have to move his head to look at me. Moving was bad. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was fast and ragged. He wasn’t asleep.
“Lillian said you wanted to talk to me.”
He blinked and looked at me. His eyes rolled at an awkward angle. He tried to move his head, and a sound came from low in his chest. I’d never heard a sound quite like it. I didn’t want to hear it again.
“Don’t move, please.” I found a little stool with wheels on it and brought it over. With me sitting, we were nearly the same height. “You should let her pump you full of drugs. You need to sleep if you can.”
“First,” he said, “I must know how you freed me.” He took a deeper breath, and the pain passed over his face in a flinching wave.
I looked away, then back. No flinching. “I bargained for you.”
“What…” His hands spasmed, and he closed his full lips into a tight-pressed line. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, more careful, as if even a normal speaking voice hurt. “What did you give up for me?”
“Nothing.”
“He would not…have given me up so easily.” Rafael stared at me, his dark eyes willing me to tell him the truth. He thought I was lying, that was why he couldn’t rest. He thought I’d done something noble and awful to save him.
I sighed and told him a very abbreviated version of the night. It was the easiest way to explain. “See, it didn’t cost any extra to throw you in.”
He almost smiled. “The wererats will remember what you did tonight, Anita. I will remember.”
“Maybe we don’t go shopping together or even out to the shooting range, but you are my friend, Rafael. I know that if I called you for help, you’d come.”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I would.”
I smiled at him. “I’ll go get Lillian now, okay?”
He closed his eyes and some piece of tension flowed out of him. It was almost as if now he could finally give himself over to the pain. “Yes, yes.”
I sent Lillian into him and went to find Sylvie. She was in a small room where Lillian had hoped she could get some sleep. Sylvie had been joined by her lady friend, significant other, lover, whatever. Jason had called her. I hadn’t known she existed. Gwen’s voice came very clearly down the hallway. “You have to tell her, Sylvie, you have to.”
I couldn’t hear Sylvie’s answer, but then the high heels weren’t quiet. They knew I was coming. I stepped in through the open door to find Gwen looking at me, and Sylvie decidedly not. The white pillow framed her very short, very curly brown hair. She was three inches taller than me but managed to look fragile in the small bed.
Gwen sat in a straight-backed chair beside the bed, holding Sylvie’s hand in both of her own. Gwen had long softly waving blond hair and big brown eyes in a delicate face. Everything about her was dainty, feminine, like a pale, finely made doll. But the intensity in her face, the intelligence in her eyes, was a vibrating thing. Gwen was a psychologist. She would have been a compelling person even without the trickle of lycanthropic energy that trailed around her like perfume.
“What do you need to tell me?” I said.
“How do you know I was referring to you?” Gwen said.
“Call it a hunch.”
She patted Sylvie’s hand. “Tell her.”
Sylvie turned her head but still wouldn’t meet my eyes. I leaned against the wall and waited. The machine gun pressed into the small of my back, forcing me to lean mostly shoulders against the cinderblock wall. Why hadn’t I taken some of the weapons off? Lay a gun down somewhere, and that’s when you’ll need it most. I trusted the Traveler to keep his word, but not enough to bet my life on it.
Silence spilled into the small room until the whirr of the air conditioner was as loud as the blood in your own ears. Sylvie finally looked at me. “The Master of Beasts ordered Stephen’s brother to rape me.” She looked down, then up again, anger spilling into her eyes. “Gregory refused.”
I didn’t bother to hide the surprise on my face. “I thought Gregory was one of the stars of Raina’s porno films.”
“He was,” Sylvie said softly.
What I wanted to ask was, when did he get to be squeamish? but that seemed crude. “Did he suddenly grow a conscience?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She was staring at the sheet, holding on to Gwen’s hands like there was worse to come. “He refused to help torture me. The Master of Beasts said he’d punish him. Gregory still refused. He said that Zane had told him that Anita was their new alpha. That all bargains made through Elizabeth weren’t binding. That he needed to deal with you for them.”
Sylvie withdrew her hand from Gwen’s and stared up at me. Her brown eyes were furious, but it wasn’t me she was angry with. “You can’t be their leader and our lupa. You can’t be both. He was lying.”
I sighed. “Afraid not.”
“But, how…”
“Look, it’s late, and we’re all tired. Let’s just do the short version. I killed Gabriel, technically that makes me the wereleopards’ leader. Zane acknowledged me after I put a couple of non-silver bullets in him.”
“Why didn’t you kill him?” Sylvie asked.
“It’s sort of my fault. I didn’t understand what leaving them without a leader would mean. Someone should have told me that they were meat for anybody without a leader.”
“I wanted them to suffer,” Sylvie said.
“I was told you wanted them all dead, that if you had your way, the pack would have hunted them down and killed them all.”
“Yes,” she said, “yes. I want them all dead.”
“I know they helped punish you and other pack members.”
She shook her head, hands in front of her eyes. It took me a second to realize she was crying. “You don’t understand. There’s a film of me out there. A film of the leopards raping me.” She brought her hands down and stared at me with tear-filled eyes. The rage and pain in her face was raw. “I was outspoken against Raina and Marcus. It was my punishment. Raina wanted to make an example of me for the others. It worked, too. Everyone was scared after that.”
I opened my mouth, closed it, then said, “I didn’t realize.”
“Now do you see why I want them dead?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Gregory had raped me once. Why wouldn’t he do it again? Why did he refuse to hurt me tonight?”
“If he really believes that I’m his leader, then he knows what I’d do to him.”
“Did you mean it in the room? Did you mean it about us killing them all?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, “I meant it.”
“Then Gregory was right.”
I frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
“He said you were their léoparde lionné, their rampant leopard.”
“I don’t know the term,�
� I said.
Gwen answered. “Léoparde lionné is a term from French heraldry. It’s a leopard, or even a lion, rampant in action on a crest. It symbolizes brave and generous warriors having done some brave deed. In this case it means a protector, even an avenger. Gabriel was a lion passant, a sleeping lion. He led but did not protect. In effect, Gregory did not merely refuse to harm Sylvie, he also told the Master of Beasts that if he was harmed, you would save him.”
“How can I be their léoparde what-you-call-it if I’m not a leopard?”
“Léoparde lionné,” Slyvie said. “How can you be lupa and neither be wolf nor our Ulfric’s lover?”
She had me there.
Fresh tears streamed down Sylvie’s face. “Padma tried to get Vivian, his personal pet while he’s here, to do things to me. Said I liked women, and maybe that would loosen my tongue. She refused, and she gave the same reason that Gregory did.”
I remembered Vivian staring at me, her frightened eyes pleading for me to help her. “Shit, you mean she really expected me to rescue her tonight.”
Sylvie just nodded. Gwen said, “Yes.”
“Shit.”
“I honestly didn’t think of it until after we were in the Jeep. I swear I didn’t think of it sooner,” Sylvie said. “But I didn’t say anything, because I wanted them to suffer. I can’t stop hating them just like that. Do you understand?”
I did. “Sylvie, you and I have one thing in common. We are both vindictive as hell. So, yeah, I understand, but we can’t leave them there like that, not if they were expecting to be saved.”
She wiped at the tears. “You can’t go up against them tonight. We can’t do any more tonight.”
“I’m not planning to fight anymore tonight, Sylvie.”
“But you’re planning something.” She sounded worried.
I smiled. “Yeah.”
Gwen stood. “Don’t be foolish, Anita.”
I shook my head. “Foolish. I’m way past foolish.” I stopped in the doorway and turned back. “By the way, Sylvie, don’t challenge Richard, ever.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I’ll kill you if you kill him.”
“It would be a fair fight.”
“I don’t care.”
“You haven’t seen him, Anita. He’s on the edge. You can forbid me from challenging him, but there are others, and they won’t be nearly as good for the pack as I am.”
“Then make it carte blanche,” I said. “If anyone kills Richard, I’ll execute them. No challenge, no fair fight, I’ll just take them out.”
“You can’t do that,” Sylvie said.
“Oh, I think I can. I’m lupa, remember.”
“If you forbid fights of succession,” Gwen said, “you’re undermining Richard. You’re saying in effect that you don’t believe he can really lead the pack.”
“I’ve been told by two pack members today that Richard is out of control, damn near suicidal. That he’s pulled his self-hatred, his loathing of his beast, and my rejection, down around his ears. I won’t let him die because I chose someone else. In a few months when he’s healthier, then I’ll step down. I’ll let him take care of himself, but not right now.”
“I’ll pass the word,” Gwen said.
“You do that.”
“You’re going to try and bring out the leopards tonight, aren’t you?” Sylvie said.
I kept seeing the bruises on Vivian’s body. The pleading in her eyes. “They expected me to save them, and I didn’t.”
“You didn’t know,” Gwen said.
“I know now,” I said.
“You can’t save everyone,” Sylvie said.
“Everyone needs a hobby.” I started to walk out again, but Gwen called me back.
I turned in the doorway.
“Tell her the rest,” Gwen said softly.
Sylvie wouldn’t look at me. She spoke staring down at the sheet. “When Vivian refused to hurt me, they called in Liv.” She looked up, tears glittering in her eyes. “She used things on me. Did things to me.” Sylvie covered her face with her hands and rolled onto her side, crying.
Gwen met my eyes. The look on her face was frightening in its hatred. “You need to know who to kill.”
I nodded. “She won’t leave St. Louis alive.”
“And the other one? The council member’s son?” Gwen asked.
“Him either,” I said.
“Promise it,” she said.
“I already have,” I said. I walked out then, searching for a phone. I wanted to talk to Jean-Claude before I did anything. Jean-Claude had taken everyone else to my house. They were boarding up the basement windows so that the vamps could be tucked safely away before dawn. The Traveler had refused to let them take their coffins. Besides, have you ever tried to rent a truck on a weekend after midnight?
What was I going to do about the wereleopards? Damned if I knew.
22
JEAN- CLAUDE’S VOICE FLOATED over the phone, my phone, my house. He’d never been there before. “What has happened, ma petite? Jason made it sound urgent.”
I told him about the wereleopards.
He was quiet for so long, I had to say something. “Talk to me, Jean-Claude.”
“Are you actually thinking of endangering us all for the sake of two people, one of whom you have never met before, and the other who you once described as a waste of skin?”
“I can’t leave them there if they expected me to help them.”
“Ma petite, ma petite, you have a sense of noblesse oblige that does you credit. But we cannot save them. Tomorrow evening the council will come for us, and we may not even be able to save ourselves.”
“Are they here to kill us?”
“Padma would kill us if he could. He is the weakest of the council, and I think he fears us.”
“The Traveler’s the one we have to convince,” I said.
“No, ma petite, the council are seven in number, always an odd number so that a vote may settle a question. Padma and the Traveler will vote against one another, this is true. It has been true for centuries. But Yvette is here to vote in the place of her lord, Morte d’Amour. She hates Padma but she may hate me more. For that matter, Balthasar could persuade the Traveler against us, and we are lost.”
“What about everybody else? Do they represent anybody?”
“Asher speaks for Belle Morte, Beautiful Death. It is her line that I am descended from, as is he.”
“He hates your guts,” I said. “We are sunk.”
“I believe the choice of four was very deliberate. They wish me to take a council seat, so I am the fifth vote.”
“If the Traveler votes with you, and Yvette hates Padma more than she hates you…”
“Ma petite, if I act as a voting member of the council, then they will expect me to return to France and take my place on the council.”
“France?” I said.
He laughed, and it slithered over the phone like a warm touch. “It is not leaving our fair city that frightens me, ma petite. It is holding the seat. If the triumvirate were fully formed perhaps, perhaps, it would be possible to appear frightening enough to force would-be challengers to choose another.”
“Are you saying without the fourth mark, the triumvirate is useless?”
Silence on his end, so long and deep, that I said, “Jean-Claude?”
“I am here, ma petite. The fourth mark will not make our triumvirate functional unless Richard heals himself.”
“You mean his hatred of me.”
“His jealousy of us together, yes, that is a problem, but not the only one, ma petite. His loathing of his beast is so intense, it weakens him. Weaken any link in a chain and it may snap.”
“Did you know about what’s been happening in the pack?”
“Richard has forbidden any of the wolves to tell me anything without his permission. I believe you are under the same restriction. It is, and I quot
e, none of my damn business.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t force Jason to tell you anyway.”
“Have you seen Richard within the last month?”
“No.”
“I have. He is on the edge, ma petite. I did not need Jason to tell me. It is plain for all to see. His torment will be viewed as a weakness among the pack. Weakness attracts them like blood to a…vampire. They will challenge him eventually.”
“I’ve had two lukoi tell me that they don’t think Richard will fight. That he’ll just let someone kill him. Do you believe that?”
“Suicide by simply not defending himself hard enough. Hmm.” He was quiet again, then finally said, “I had not thought of such a thing. If I had, ma petite, I would have told you of my concerns. I do not wish Richard harm.”
“Yeah, right.”
“He is our third, ma petite. It is in my own interest to make him healthy and happy. I need him.”
“Like you need me,” I said.
He laughed low and deep, and even over the phone I could feel it tickling along my body. “Oui, ma petite. Richard must not die. But to cure his despair he must embrace his beast. I cannot help him do that. I have tried and he will not hear me. He takes what limited help he needs to keep himself from invading your dreams, or you his, but beyond that he wants nothing from us. Nothing he will admit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“It is your tender mercies that he needs, ma petite, not mine.”
“Tender mercies?” I made it a question.
“If you could accept his beast, completely, it would mean something to him.”
“I can’t, Jean-Claude. I wish I could, but I can’t. I saw him eat Marcus. I…” I’d only seen Richard shapeshift once. He’d been injured from the fight with Marcus. He half-collapsed with me underneath him. I’d been trapped under him while fur flowed, muscles formed and shifted, bones broke and reknit. Clear liquid had gushed from his power, pouring over me in a near-scalding wave. Maybe if I’d just been watching, it would have been different. But trapped under him, feeling his body do things on top of me that bodies were never meant to do…it had been too much. If Richard had handled it differently, if I had seen him change in a nice calm way from a distance, then built up to the whole ride, maybe, maybe. But it had happened, and I couldn’t forget it. I could still close my eyes and see his man-wolf shape gulping down a red, bloody piece of Marcus.
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