Black Arts

by Faith Hunter

  Strength returned to Shiloh, and her head moved upright, her fingers grew steady. But Shiloh’s eyes began to vamp out, and I knew she needed blood. Eli must have known as well. He said, “Bliss is sick. How about Rachael?” I closed my eyes and slumped in my chair, breathing deeply, scenting, trusting Eli to keep me safe while I was busy. Beneath the smell of vamp and the sting of magic, there was a scent on the air, like sweat on sickbed sheets. The girls had been here. They still were here. “Bliss? Rachael?” I called. “Come in, please.”

  The door to the kitchen opened, revealing the two girls standing in the dark. “Hey, Jane,” Bliss said as she and Rachael walked into the living room. They looked horrible, as if they’d had the flu for days, but Bliss went straight to Shiloh and held out her wrist.

  “You don’t have to,” Shiloh said, sounding stronger, but staring at the proffered flesh.

  “Drink. You have magic help now, so I don’t think you’ll lose control,” the little witch said.

  My brow crinkled with confusion as Shiloh bit down and sucked, greedily and hard, ravenous. Bliss flinched at the pain before the pleasure in the vamp saliva made it bearable. Shiloh still had stuff to learn about being a vamp and making her dinners happy. But the witch part, she was getting pretty well. In front of her body, her fingers kept working, braiding her own magic with Evan’s that sounded from the cell.

  “Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

  Rachael said, “We were stupid. We went to a party at Guilbeau’s, looking for a little fun on the side. And we saw Molly standing with this guy. He looked like our type—rich and vampy. She looked drunk.”

  “We went over to say hi,” Bliss said. “You know, because Molly was nice to us when she stayed with you and high-class ladies don’t usually treat people like us as”—her hand made a waffling motion—“people. Anyway, we don’t know what happened.” She cupped Shiloh’s head with her free hand, a grimace of pain on her face, and her voice showed strain. “Everything seemed great. The guy seemed hot, like Mr. Wonderful, great in bed and with wads of money. And he introduced us to Shiloh.”

  “And next thing we knew, we woke up here,” Rachael said. “Chained to the beds upstairs and a newly risen fanghead loose in the house.”

  “Hungry,” Bliss added. “Which kinda sucked, pun intended. Okay now,” she said to Shiloh. “Greenwitch. That’s enough. Remember what we said. Greenwitch. It’s time to stop.” Shiloh’s fangs slid from Bliss’ wrist and she licked the wound to close it. Or to get the last drop. Or both. To me, Bliss said, “Greenwitch is our safe word. So far it’s keeping her need in check.”

  Shiloh looked less ill, as if there was more flesh cushioning between bone and skin, and she looked more in control. She clicked her fangs back into her mouth. “Aunt Molly-Lolly said I probably need more blood than the average Mithran. I had been talking to two blood-slaves, Devin and a guy named Ozzie, and two of their pals at the party. But then I saw Aunt Molly-Lolly and Bliss and Rachael. And then I don’t remember anything else.”

  “Jack has a bottle of wine,” Bliss said.

  Rachael said, “Honey wine. And if you drink it, you get, well, let’s say you get real suggestible, real fast.”

  “Molly said it was probably the bottle that was spelled, because he would pour wine into it, cheap stuff, and it would turn into honey wine. And the spell transferred to the wine and then to the drinker. And according to him, it works on every species.”

  “Enough,” I said. “Let’s get you three back to Katie’s house.”

  “You’re going to bring a hungry fanghead and the two”—Eli hesitated a bare second—“ladies back into the city?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Into the cell, I said, “You hear that, Evan? Make sure things are safe at Katie’s. Make sure she knows what happened so she doesn’t kill her girls or Shiloh.” The young vamp’s eyes went wide at that, but really, what else could I say?

  CHAPTER 21

  Went to the Dark Side

  The ride back to Katie’s was anticlimactic. The blood had given Shiloh strength, and Evan’s magic had given her something to use to keep the black magics at bay. And contrary to what I expected, when Katie saw her, the older vamp invited the younger into Katie’s Ladies instantly. Katie was changing, and so far, the changes seemed positive—barring that possessive streak and the quick temper.

  Eli and I filed in after her, and I was doubly surprised to see Amy Lynn Brown sitting on the couch in Katie’s office, next to Big Evan. The young vamp and devoveo prodigy didn’t even stand, she just lifted her wrist. Shiloh fell at her feet and drank. When the young vamp had taken all she safely could, Katie offered the girl her own wrist.

  I had never seen Katie do that for anyone. Katie’s blood was special, composed as it was now of the blood of eight clans, and I had to wonder why the old, cagey vamp would be so generous, until she turned her teal green eyes to me and asked, “Do you claim this one?”

  I hesitated, knowing that either way I answered, I wouldn’t like the result. I nodded and Katie smiled, showing her fangs. I almost backed up a step at her expression but stopped myself in time. Katie said, “My master insisted that I offer apologies to you for the blood I forced.”

  Instantly I was on the cold floor in the warehouse, Katie’s fangs buried in my flesh, pain like lightning shooting through me, hearing Big Evan’s niece slurping my landlady’s cold blood. I lifted my chin, waiting, knowing that she could hear my heartbeat suddenly racing.

  “My blood is valuable,” she said, “far more than yours. We are now as blood equals, owing each other nothing.”

  I thought about that, about agreeing with her, wondering if that meant I, and the people who looked to me for protection, would still be safe from her. I said, “I agree to . . . not kill or injure you or yours? And you agree to not kill or injure me or mine? And I get to keep the house.”

  Katie narrowed her eyes before it hit me what I had just asked. I had meant that I would get to keep my rent-free status on the house, but it came out different. And it suggested that my blood was worth as much as her own. Maybe even more. Very carefully, I didn’t move as Katie’s eyes slowly bled to black. With her fangs down, she was fully vamped-out. However, when she spoke, her voice was even and without inflection. “Agreed. I will have the papers sent over to you via messenger. Taxes and insurance are due. Pay them.”

  I gave a minuscule nod. I had just accidentally outbargained a powerful vamp for a house. And won. Go, me. But maybe it was smart to not acknowledge that win for fear it would sound gloating. Carefully I said, “We are even.”

  As I spoke, Shiloh slid to the floor in a boneless glide that ended with a muted thump of her head on the thick rug. She was grinning and rosy-cheeked, a tiny drop of cherry red blood on her lips. Drunkenly, she licked it away. “I will keep the girl alive,” Katie said, “for three days. On the third day, if you have not ended the death spell that is draining her, she will die. I will also care for and respect the blood-servant tie between the Mithran you claim and her new blood-servants.” She looked at Bliss and Rachael. “I will not treat with them as traitors to my household but as former employees who have found a new master. You are released from my service.”

  It was a better bargain than I expected, and it gave a place of safety and service to Bliss and Rachael. It also made me wonder about the value of my skinwalker blood, but I knew better than to ask. “Done. Eli, Evan, we need to go now.”

  And then the doors blew off the house.

  I leaped for the front entry. The windows smashed in, glass shattering everywhere. My ears popped as the pressure changed, midleap. Wind blew through, whirling and smashing things to the floor. Batting me out of the air like a fist to the gut as my leap took me clear across the entry to protect the humans and the vamps.

  Magic ripped across me, scoring like knives, stinking of burned sage and scorched human hair. The lights went out. It was as dark as it had been in Shiloh’s lair, and as I watched through the op
en door, lights all down the street popped and went out. I knew, somehow, that Jack Shoffru’s magic interfered with electricity, which was how he cast such great don’t-see-me spells and charms while in Leo’s headquarters. A weird silence settled over the French Quarter as the lights continued to go dark. I stepped for the open door, the M4 in one hand, the stock between my elbow and my body, held close, a vamp-killer in the other hand.

  Talons and fangs out, Katie raced past and I caught her with the shotgun, swinging her by the waist back toward the office. “Stay put,” I whispered. “Keep them safe.”

  Wind ripped through the house without warning, battering me back into the office, as if the air itself knew where its prey was. I shouted over the roar as I rolled the sofa over the humans and bent my own body back to a crouch.

  The wind stilled to nothing again. In the distance, I heard sirens. I drew on Beast’s night vision. The house looked silver, black, and gray, with hints of green. I didn’t see Molly’s niece anywhere. I smelled blood—human and vamp. And my own. Flying glass had ripped into me, right arm and thigh. Probably face. Worries for later. I said, “Eli?”

  “At your two,” he said softly. I oriented him at my right to the side of the front door. “Company,” he said softly. “I count three. Two vamps, one human.” To know that, he was using his low-light monocular. Vamps moved faster than humans, often with a herky-jerky rhythm when they thought they were unseen, and it was easier than they thought to pick them out with modern technology.

  I heard them, moving fast, knowing that it was one of my enemies. “Eenie, meenie, miney, mo,” I muttered, readjusting my grip on the vamp-killer.

  On the wind, I smelled Molly’s magic, cued by fear and by addiction. My body tightened. “Evan. Play that disruptive melody. Now!”

  A blast hit the house again. It wasn’t the magic of an air witch. It was something else, something darker and bloodier, icy air and heated magic, smelling of sage and burned hair. Candles in the office lit, brightening the room. So did the gas logs in the parlor, a whoosh before everything went dark again. Eli cursed and I knew he had lost his low-light vision in the burst of light. The air went still. Evan began to play.

  I heard the sound of footsteps. They were inside. This was not good.

  I said, as conversationally as I could manage, “The Enforcer of New Orleans is on the premises.” Which was so not scary. “Withdraw. Or suffer the consequences,” I added. Could I do a hot C-grade movie line or what?

  In the office the melody became discordant, a flute played by an air witch with a gift for undoing spells.

  The next seconds were overlaid, like images seen beneath fireworks, broken and disjointed. From the doorway, a burst of magic hit, lighting everything—smelling of burned hair. Out of the bright, a form leaped at me through the doorway, vamp-fast, a flash of bright scarlet red. Diving at my throat. I fired a single round. Silver shot. Caught her midbelly. A split instant later, to keep from shooting off my own hand, I lifted the vamp-killer. Brought the weapon in hard. Dark fell again, taking my vision with it.

  I was body-slammed. I smelled Adrianna as she rode me down. I kicked out and up, catching her abdomen, my foot sinking into the shotgun wound there, flipping her over me. She held on, knocking us into a back somersault. Momentum pulled at me. I flipped her over me into the wall. Rolled to my knees. Not fast enough. She tackled me, knocking me to the floor. I tried to roll up, but she crawled up my body, vamp-fast. I smelled burning vamp flesh and boiling vamp blood from the silver shot as fangs tore into my right shoulder, going for maximum damage, tearing. I lost the M4, heard it clatter to the floor, my arm instantly numb. No pain yet, just hot blood. With my left arm, I stabbed up. Feeling the rubbery resistance of flesh. She screamed, the ululating wail of vamps dying, heard even over the deafness from the shotgun blast. I dug up with the blade, buried to the hilt. Cold blood flooded over my hand, across my body. Mixing with my own.

  A burst of the light-magic lit the room, the burned hair smell gagging. Adrianna yanked her fangs out of my shoulder. Her eyes were vamped-out, lips snarling back from extended fangs.

  Adrianna was supposed to be in custody with Gee DiMercy.

  My blade was buried in her gut, and I angled it higher, aiming for the heart. Her blood was slippery, almost oily, and the hilt slid in my grasp.

  “Stop or he is dead.”

  The lamps came back on, bright after the black-night fighting. I blinked against the glare. Jack Shoffru stood in the opening to Katie’s Ladies, Eli against his chest. Blood was everywhere, cascading over my partner. Not arterial. But too much. Shoffru’s fingers were around Eli’s neck, the talons buried in the flesh. Eli was human. He would die. And there would be no bringing him back. Images flashed through me of Eli dead, flesh pasty white. Of Eli in a coffin.

  I released the hilt of the blade buried in Adrianna.

  She hissed, bloody mouth open like a cat. Lifted herself off me and stumbled into the corner, against the wall. Away from the office and the sofa that hid Bliss and Rachael. I was happy to see my blade still buried in her, the hilt in her right side, where her liver had been when she was human. The point tented her clothes on her left side, poking through between her ribs, under her arm. I had missed her heart, the thrust too low, but I smelled scorching blood, the silver on the blade burning her. Poisoning her. Though not fast enough. I remembered my words to her at the gather. “Hello, dead woman. I’ll have your blood on my hands soon.” I’d been right.

  I reached across my body and lifted my own hand. Pulled my damaged arm to me, feeling/hearing broken bones grate against each other. My breath was fast and shallow, my heart sprinting. But no blood spurted. It just ran down my arm and off my fingertips. The pain was already starting, a throbbing, distant gong echoing through me, like a great bell of pain, gathering and building, but still distant. I set my face in emotionless lines as I tucked the numb hand into my waistband. It was cold and bloody. I needed to shift. Beast? I asked. She didn’t answer, but I felt the skin beneath my fingers ripple and bristle. Pelt was forming on my numb hand. Intense pain flashed through my arm, lightning hot. My eyesight tunneled down, black at the edges. I was close to passing out.

  It’s never smart to show weakness to a vamp, and fainting from blood loss probably fell into the category. I huffed a laugh at the thought. With a foot, I flipped up a stool that had found its way into the foyer from elsewhere. I sat a hip on it. My eyesight widened. I managed a single deep breath and my field of view widened again.

  At his side, Eli’s hand was pointing. In his other hand, hidden in the shadows, he held a fragmentation grenade. I clamped my teeth against a pained breath and huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that’d do it, but it’s sorta overkill, dontcha think?”

  Shoffru looked confused and then dismissed my comments. “Give me the blood diamond.”

  “Let him go, heal him, and we’ll chat.” Eli, trusting me to get him out of this, tucked the grenade back in a pocket.

  “You have nothing with which to bargain,” Shoffu said.

  “He dies, and neither do you,” I said.

  Evan stepped up to me, his music playing. In Beast’s vision, I could see Evan’s magic pushing back on the directed death-magic. Molly’s magic. And I knew the moment he realized that the magic was familiar. Was his wife’s. His music nearly died as he breathed it in, but he played on, with only that single hitch in the melody. His scent changed, though, and I smelled the panic flooding through his body. Fight or flight. And with Big Evan that always meant fight.

  “I have your friend.”

  “Not with you, you don’t. See, I’m not human, and while I smell her magic, I don’t smell Molly. You have her somewhere safe. But not here.” My words were spoken to Shoffru, but were meant for Evan, to keep him from doing anything stupid.

  To my side, Adrianna slid to the floor, leaving a long smear of blood on the wall. Sitting, she gripped the blade and pulled. It dragged from her body with an awful sound. She moaned softly, like a child in
pain, holding the knife out. Her blood poured from both sides, bubbling and dark as the silver poisoned her. She had started the night dressed in white. Now she looked like death served cold. Her arm slowly dropped, until the blade touched the floor. Her fingers went limp and released the hilt. She took a breath, released it, and went still. She wasn’t exactly true-dead. She could be brought back if a master vamp was in the mood to save her. Or she could rise as a revenant if no one took her head. But for now, she was no danger to anyone. At most she was a bargaining chip, though I had little reason to suspect that Shoffru cared for her.

  Through the busted windows I heard more sirens far off, growing closer. Someone had figured out where the problems were. Big Evan played on. He knew we were in trouble, big trouble, and he wanted me to know he wasn’t going to fly off the handle, that he understood that Molly wasn’t here. Wasn’t just outside, in need of his help. I turned my attention back to Shoffru. Eli was pale and sweaty in his grip. His black camo was wet and even blacker, drenched with blood. “I’ll let you take Adrianna. In return, you let Eli go.”

  “I bargain for only one thing. The blood diamond.”

  Eli’s eyes rolled back in his head. He wasn’t breathing. His knees turned to water as he went limp. I wasn’t sure Shoffru even noted the extra weight as the Ranger passed out. Panic shocked through me and I saw Shoffru sniff as my fear pheromones charged the air. I had to keep Shoffru from killing him. I had to keep the people in the house safe. I had to find Molly and save her. The goals could not be merged. “It’s not like I carry it around with me,” I snarled as Eli’s dark skin went ashy gray.

  “Pity,” the pirate said. “It seems our rapiers are locked.”

  I made sense of that metaphor. He was talking about dueling with swords. “Yeah, life sucks that way sometimes.” I jutted my chin to the nearly dead vamp on the floor to my side. Using the gesture to hide my other action, I palmed a throwing knife. “So what about your girlfriend?”