by Faith Hunter
We will go to Council Chambers, Beast thought. Beast looked out over levee and saw trucks that smelled of much food. Raw meat. Raw fish. Beast had not eaten after shift. Was hungry. Beast looked back at homeless man. Wondered if he would be stringy to eat.
Council chambers. Make it snappy, Jane thought. And no eating the humans.
Trucks smell of food. Can get inside belly of truck?
The farm-to-restaurant delivery trucks? No. Move it, you dang cat.
Will not run. Will ride truck. Jane was angry at wait, but Beast had done this before. Would be faster. Was like riding bison or cow to kill and eat. Beast sauntered through shadows at top of levee to wall looking down at street. When truck smelling of blood and much meat rolled past, Beast leaped from wall to top of truck. Claws out, skidded across metal, ribbed like chest of big cow. Claws caught on metal and Beast lay down, tail out, tip tapping on metal truck. Truck smelled of much meat. Beast hungered.
Two streets over, Beast leaped from top of truck to another. Soon wall and gate of HQ came into view. Beast gathered self, watching tall wall made of brick. Leaped high, over wall. Landed in front area, in grass near flat concrete. Caught self and sat on haunches, front legs straight and close together, ears high. Bright light came on. Looked away from light. When human spoke, ear tabs swiveled and folded, finding voices in night.
“Is that the queen?” a voice asked.
“You think there’s another of those cats in town?” a second voice asked.
Beast chuffed. Stood and walked slowly to steps to front door. Light followed Beast.
Beast is beautiful Puma concolor. Has golden pelt and sharp claws. Beast is best hunter. Beast is not prey.
Show-off, Jane thought.
At top of stairs, Beast stood, waiting. Derek appeared and entered airlock, but Derek did not open door. Derek stared at Beast. Was challenge look, eyes narrow, shoulders tight. If Derek had killing claws, would be showing them to Beast. Beast chuffed with amusement. Opened lips and showed killing teeth in snarl. Derek still did not open door. Beast turned around and prepared to show human that this was Beast space.
Door opened. “Don’t you dare spray on the windows.”
Beast chuffed. Turned and went through open door into airlock. Outer door closed. Inner door was still closed. Beast whirled and raised up on hind legs, front paws over Derek shoulder, claws out, holding Derek in place. Derek hand went for gun. Derek stopped breathing. Smelled of shock, uncertainty, some fear. Licked Derek neck and face with rough tongue.
Derek jerked away, Beast claws tearing Derek shirt.
Beast dropped and chuffed. Derek started to breathe again. Inner door opened. Beast strolled into big room to stairs. Vampires were everywhere. Security teams. One team was watching Beast. Silent. Hands on guns. Beast walked slowly upstairs. Paused halfway up and looked back at Derek. Derek was glaring. Beast chuffed, twitched long tail in amusement, and trotted up long stairs.
Far below, Derek cursed.
You really are a dang cat. Jane was not laughing.
At top of stairs, Wrassler stood, waiting. “Were you kissing Derek or tasting him?”
Beast did not answer and led way to Leo old bedroom. Could smell Bruiser inside. Put paw on door and looked at Wrassler. Big human with one skin leg and one not-skin leg sighed and knocked on door. Bruiser called, “Come.”
Was way Leo answered knocks sometimes. Wrassler opened door and Beast walked in. Bruiser was sitting at desk with computer and tapping with fingers. Was dressed in black. Looked like what Jane called “sex on a stick.”
“Jane?” Bruiser was surprised.
Beast stalked close and sniffed Bruiser, flehmen response, strong sucking sound, pulling air over tongue and over scent sacs in top of mouth. Bruiser smelled like Bruiser, not like stick. “Do you want a keyboard to talk to me?”
Beast shook head no. Padded around Leo’s old bedroom. Leo’s closet. Leo’s bathroom. Smelling for magic Leo left behind. Smelled nothing magic. Searched walls and floor with nose and paws. Beast found no hidden spaces for magic thing. Went to door. Waited.
“Do you want me to follow you?” Bruiser asked. Beast shook head no again and put paw on Wrassler leg.
“You want me to come?”
Beast nodded and left room, Wrassler following. Big blood-servant smelled of confusion. Was good. Cats must always confuse humans. Confusion was why humans loved cats.
Beast went to small cage called ele-va-tor. Raised up on hind legs and pushed button for down. When elevator came, Beast padded inside and turned puma eyes to big man. Waited. Wrassler got in elevator and put card in special slot to make elevator go. Beast pushed button for subbasement four. Beast knows numbers one, two, three, four, five, and more than five. Is enough numbers. Elevator dropped to sub-four. Beast walked out of small cage and to partially hidden scion room, place where vampires who were not old enough to be sane were kept hidden away. Jane did not keep scions here. Kept prisoners here.
Wrassler opened door. Beast walked in. Walked to cage for Onorio Monique Giovanni. Jane was silent in brain. Watching. Beast pressed nose to cage. Breathed. Listened. Onorio did not smell alive. Did not smell dead either. Onorio heart beat once, pulse in neck moving. Onorio took one very slow, shallow breath. Did not breathe again. Onorio was not dead.
I remember another creature who just freaking would not die, Jane thought. I finally beheaded her. Leo was right. I’ll need to take this one’s head too. But . . . maybe I’ll try to read her first.
Beast ate vampires. Good strong vampire blood. Beast hungers. Could eat Onorio.
Let’s hold off on eating people and go visit Deon in the kitchen. I’ll bet he’ll give you some steak or salmon.
Beast likes Deon.
You like anyone who feeds you, gives you rides in cars, or gives you catnip.
Yes.
* * *
* * *
After Beast and I ate, Beast told me about Leo. I was still getting used to the idea that he was alive and relatively sane for a thrice-born, twice-risen, and trying to process what it all meant.
When Beast found Leo on levee, vampire did not smell same, Beast thought. Always smelled dead. Now smells different. Smells much like Monique, but with blood and burned paper and burned flowers. Is not same dead smell but is close to same dead smell. Beast gave a mental equivalent of a cat shrug. But still is dead.
Does anyone else know?
Beast cannot talk human talk. Humans are too stupid to speak / hear cat talk.
Beast scratched on a door, and I paid attention to our surroundings. Wrassler opened the door, and Beast walked in, stopped, and barred the way from Wrassler. The big man stopped and backed out, closing the door. And we’re in Leo’s old office, why?
We hunt for magic thing Leo hid here.
We walked down the small hallway into Leo’s office. The office was different. There were no more rugs, no draperies, no tapestries hanging on the walls. The drinking/dinner/sex couches were gone. The low table that Leo had used for tea and drinks was gone, as were all the chairs. It was even more barren than Leo’s near-empty bedroom. His desk was still there, the pretty, carved, elegant table desk. The armoire behind the desk was still there, doors shut.
So what are we looking for? I asked
Magic thing. Leo hid it here.
I thought about making suggestions, but Beast was intent—in hunting mode. I had been present when she hunted prey, but this felt different. This felt almost logical, rational. Fascinated, I sat back in our shared mind and watched.
Beast started back at the door, sniffing the walls, beginning at the floor and stretching as high as she could reach, standing up on her hind legs. Wrassler’s scent moved faintly beneath the door. Guarding. Watching.
Beast moved on. She stopped at the once-hidden opening to the next office and the once-secret elevator there. No one had passed to or from the empty room. There were no fresh scents at that entrance. She moved on to the far wall. There was nothing except vario
us weak scents from fast-moving blood-servants who removed the tapestries and the rugs. Then the scent of blood-servants having sex against the wall.
Ick, I thought.
Mating. Not ick. Mating is good. Mating was between strong blood-servants.
Ick, I repeated.
Beast didn’t reply, just kept working the room. Have scent, Beast thought.
Beast had been through the entire room, all the nooks and crannies and hidden openings, including two I hadn’t known about. Beast tightened her muscles and leaped, landing on top of Leo’s desk, her nose against the desktop.
Ugly dog. Good nose, she thought. It sounded unenthusiastic, half-hearted.
Your dog-nose genes found something?
Beast kept ugly dog nose. Magic is hiding in desk. Space small as pocket.
She dropped off the table desk to the floor and padded to the door. She bumped it with her nose three times and stepped back. The door opened. Beast stared at Wrassler. Predator eyes.
Stop that, I demanded.
Wrassler likes to play, Beast thought back.
No, I thought at her.
Beast sniffed, turned, padded back to the table desk, and leaped on top. Wrassler followed, standing in the end of the short hallway. Beast tapped three times on the spot on the desk where she had smelled magic. Tapped again three times. When Wrassler said nothing, Beast chuffed, stared at the spot, and tapped again. It was cat talk for There’s something here.
“Something’s there? Hidden in the desk? Or do you just want me to get down on my knee so you can pounce on me?”
Beast dropped elegantly to the floor and stuck her nose on the table lip, right where she had been tapping, and sniffed. Wrassler walked over and pressed his thigh against Beast to move her. He bent and stared at the damp nose print, running his hand over the desk, feeling for cracks, tapping on the top, the lip, the apron, and the underside for hollow sounds. When he stood, he was frowning and pulled his cell phone. Bruiser answered. “Consort, please come to the queen’s office. Her cat has found something.”
Queen’s office? Oh. Right. Leo’s office would now be mine. Except . . . maybe not.
“On the way.”
Wrassler retreated to the doorway, and Beast continued sniffing on the floorboards, where she found two more hidden spaces. There was no magic scent there, but she was curious. She was always curious. She was a cat. Bruiser arrived. His butt looked amazing, and the black clothes made his dark beard and hair look even darker. He looks scrumptious.
Bruiser is best mate, Beast thought back.
“Jane?” Bruiser asked me.
Beast nodded.
“You found something?”
I/we tapped the desk in the correct spot again.
“Hidden inside?” he asked, his hands mimicking Wrassler’s hands as he searched it.
I/we nodded.
“It sounds hollow, Consort,” Wrassler said, “but I don’t feel any buttons, springs, levers, or anything else that might allow it to open.”
“Me neither. Jane. Does it smell like magic?”
Nod.
“Like Leo?”
Beast thought. And gave a small nod.
“So Leo hid something magical in here. How did you know to come look?”
Beast and I stared at Bruiser, our shoulders high, head lowered. A predator stare.
“Something happened.”
Nod.
“Someone told you something.”
This time our nod was slow, our gaze penetrating.
“Sabina?”
We did nothing, holding the position and the stare.
Whispering, Bruiser said, “Was . . .” His voice went rough and silent. He took a slow breath, as if to calm any reaction he might have. “Was it Leo?”
I/we nodded.
Wrassler cursed. The room filled with the scents of shock, excitement, horror.
“Leo told you, in words, in English, to come here and find this?”
I/we nodded. The fact that Leo hadn’t killed and eaten us was an indication that Leo was not a revenant. He was, more or less, sane.
Without turning his eyes from me, Bruiser said to Wrassler. “We do not speak of this. Not until we know more. I need a woodworker, an antiques repairer. Can you locate someone and get them here immediately? Send a car.”
“Yes, Consort,” Wrassler said. He was holding his cell phone and left the room, moving fast.
“Jane, can you shift to human?”
Beast and I considered one another. It was close to dawn; maybe after dawn. Except for a very, very few times, shifting from Beast to human in daylight had always been impossible. But I didn’t know if Beast had been holding out on me all along, using the difficulty to maintain control, or if the sunlight actually was a problem. Beast? I thought.
She blinked. Sat. Held my mind in her predator’s claws. I was poaching on her hunting grounds to ask this.
Is hard. Will need much meat and grain for Jane. Jane will hurt.
Is it going to hurt because the daytime process is so difficult or because you make it difficult?
Beast didn’t answer, which I figured was an answer all on its own.
I looked at Bruiser and forced our head down and back up. I/we padded from the office and back along the hallways to Leo’s old room. Bruiser didn’t follow, but a guard met us there and opened the door, standing back as if we were a wild animal who might attack for no reason. He closed the door behind us.
Inside, alone, Beast stepped onto the bed and scratched all the covers and pillows together, making a nest, her claws pricking and pulling the fabric. She lay down in the nest and scrunched around. Jane will hurt, she thought. She extended the claws on her dominant paw and hooked them into her pelt at her chest. It was the exact place my wesa claws had torn Beast’s puma flesh when I accidently performed black magic and stole her body and her soul so very long ago.
She ripped her own flesh. Skinwalker energies shot out, gray mist and black motes.
The pain was electric. Spiraling. Piercing. Burning, icy, slicing. I was being flayed alive. My bones popped and my spine snapped back. I screamed.
CHAPTER 13
It’s Better Than Being Shot At
I woke in human form. There was blood all over the sheets. I was shivering, panting, and my muscles felt as if I had been Tased.
Bruiser eased down onto the bed and gathered me and all the bloody linens in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t know it would be this bad. I’m so sorry.”
“Beast did it,” I said. It came out a croak. “She shifted, and I think she made it hurt. Dang cat.” I breathed for a while and tried to force my muscles to relax. When that didn’t work and the muscle twitches became spasms, Bruiser carried me, sheets and all, to the shower and put me on the small, tiled seat. He stripped fast and sat on the floor, pulling me into his arms. He turned on the water as hot as we could stand it. I shivered, my teeth chattered, and I cussed Beast up one side and down the next as hard as I could. Bruiser chuckled silently at my cussing, mostly because the stuttering, chattering cussing came out all wrong.
Half an hour later, my muscles were much looser, and Bruiser and I were busy doing other things. I felt much better after that. When we were both dry and dressed and trying to make our hair and his beard look less like we had been doing what we had been doing, I asked, “Did you get a woodworker to open Leo’s desk?”
“Yes, just before I came here. He charged an outrageous price, but he found a small locket sealed inside a well-glued wooden niche.”
“And?”
“Within it are two miniatures. Tiny paintings: Ka N’vsita on one side and Adan Bouvier on the other. I have no idea what it can do, but it reeks of magic. I have had it messengered to our house.”
“Okay. You want to know about Leo?”
“Yes. If you feel up to it.”
“I’m hungry as a starving cat, but yeah. You need to know.” Beast had let me access her memories, so I described the way
Leo avoided all the security at our house, tapping on our bedroom window. I described how he looked, how he smelled. Carefully I repeated Leo’s words.
Bruiser watched my face as I talked. “He was sane?”
“Yeah. He had been drinking from a lot of homeless people, but so far as Beast could smell, all were still alive. He said someone was coming, someone he couldn’t defeat. He said that because I killed Immanuel, and then the Sons of Darkness, this ‘my master’ had come to power. And he was more powerful than Leo was now.”
Bruiser shook his head. “Monique mentioned Leo’s master. I’ve looked into Leo’s bloodlines, Amaury’s scion lines, and the list of still undead ancient Mithrans and Naturaleza. I could find no one worthy of the title of master who is still known to be undead. He was not speaking of Ka or Monique or the Firestarter?”
“No.”
“He wasn’t speaking of Shaun MacLaughlinn?”
“No. I got the impression that Shaun is here to soften us up.”
“Mmmm. I wonder if Shaun knows that. Ofttimes the older Mithrans use tools who are not aware of their low status and utter lack of value.” His face thoughtful, Bruiser dressed in the clothing he had tossed into the corner. They were wrinkled, but they fit so tightly the wrinkles were stretched out and invisible. He looked so good in clothes. And out of clothes. And all the time.
In the bedroom, I pulled out another of Madame Melisende’s outfits and dressed. This one was a sort of old-blood brown. I hated it instantly, but it was warm and soft, and it fit perfectly. There was a pink one next to it. I yanked that one off the rack and balled it up.
“Problem, my love?” Bruiser asked, all innocent, his worry momentarily gone.
I held up the ball of fabric and shook it at him a little. He knew I hated this color.
“I think that is a lovely shade of pink,” he said blandly.
Laughing, I threw it at him. “I’m sure you’ll look gorgeous in it.”
