Unbound

by Jeaniene Frost

  With his aura of power carefully in check, new hair color, mask, and persona of being just another blood drinker strolling with his future meal, Bones was as disguised as he could be. Somewhere in this seething mass of people, the LaLauries could be hunting, choosing their next victim. Time for Becca to assist him.

  Bones drew her a few feet into the next alley they came across. Even above the raucous noise around them, he could hear her heartbeat speed up as he leaned down.

  Instead of kissing her, however, Bones brought his face close to hers, letting green spill out of his eyes while he spoke low and resonantly.

  “Remember the girl, Becca? The dark-haired one you saw that night walking with the murdered boy, can you see her face in your mind again?”

  Bones knew she could. Determining that Becca had seen Delphine with Eric was the first thing he’d done when he arrived at her house earlier. A few flashes of his eyes, some help regressing her to that evening, and Bones was sure Becca had gotten a clear view of the female ghoul. Now to focus Becca on Delphine’s image, so she’d recognize her on the spot if she saw her again.

  Becca nodded, transfixed by his gaze. Bones caressed her cheek.

  “If you see her again, you’ll tell me at once. If I’m not with you, you’ll ring me straightaway, but you will not go anywhere with her, ever.”

  “Ever,” Becca echoed.

  “You won’t remember this conversation, either; you’ll only remember to act as I’ve told you if you see her. And no matter the circumstances, you won’t notice my eyes being anything but brown, or my teeth being anything but normal, right?”

  Another nod. “Right.”

  “Good.” Bones smiled. The emerald light left his eyes. Once free of their entrapping glow, Becca blinked, her awareness returning. Her gaze flicked to his mouth, and she licked her lips.

  Bones closed the few inches between them, settling his mouth over hers in a firm, leisurely kiss. She tasted of wine and prime rib, and beneath that was her own taste. Sweet, like crushed flowers.

  A scraping sound from above made Bones yank to the side with a curse. Someone was up there.

  In the next moment, pain seared his back, just a few inches below his heart. As Bones spun around, he spotted a redheaded vampire perched on the roof on the other side of the alley.

  “Ralmiel,” Bones muttered, recognizing him. He jerked away in the next split second before another arrow was fired off. This time, it landed in the building instead of his flesh.

  “’Allo, mon ami,” the vampire called out genially. “Stand still so I can kill you.”

  “Oh my God,” Becca gasped.

  “Go into the parade now,” Bones ordered her, shoving her in that direction.

  Another arrow came at him, striking him in the arm he’d extended to push Becca safely away. Bones yanked the arrow out, spun to avoid another one, and propelled himself straight up in the air. Since he was in the alley, most bystanders wouldn’t see him, and the ones who did would be too drunk to remember it clearly, anyhow.

  Ralmiel gave an infuriating chuckle as he sprinted away, leaping over the roofs in gravity-defying strides. Bones chased him, drawing several knives from his sleeves. He flung them at the vampire’s back, but only one landed, and not in his heart. Bloke was fast.

  “You cannot catch me, mon ami!” Ralmiel laughed, darting across the next roof onto the steeple of St. Louis Cathedral.

  “Too right I can,” Bones growled, crossing the same distance in an aerial leap. He reached inside his sleeves, grasped two more knives, and rocketed them at the vampire.

  The knives landed in Ralmiel’s chest, but he’d jerked back in a life-saving microsecond that meant the difference between them piercing his heart and burying less harmfully into his sternum.

  “Sacre bleu,” Ralmiel swore, yanking them out and tossing them off the roof. Then he smiled at Bones. “Close, though, non?”

  Bones reached in his sleeves again—and came up empty. Right, he’d given his coat to Becca, and it held the rest of his knives.

  Ralmiel aimed his crossbow, then gave a snort as he saw that he, too, was out of silver.

  “Normally it takes no more than four arrows, mon ami. I wasn’t expecting you to be so quick. We’ll have to continue this another time.”

  Bones jumped onto the church’s roof. “We can settle this without weapons. Come on, mate, afraid to only use your hands in a death match?”

  Ralmiel had an odd grin. “I think I will let you live to-night and kill you tomorrow. Or the next day. I get paid the same either way.”

  Bones let out a short laugh. “Decided to take one of the many contracts out on me, did you? After I kill you, mate, I’ll be curious to see what your corpse is worth.”

  Ralmiel sketched a bow, squeezing something in his hand. “I think not.” Then he vanished in front of Bones’s eyes.

  Bones stared at the spot where Ralmiel had been. What kind of trick was this?

  Since they were in New Orleans, the heart of magic and voodoo, perhaps it was a sort of spell. The few other times Bones had run across Ralmiel, he damn sure didn’t have the power to dematerialize on his own. Bones didn’t figure he’d hide such an ability, either.

  Though that begged the question of why Marie would allow Ralmiel, a known hit man, in her city to hunt the hitter she’d hired. If Bones was dead, then he couldn’t take care of her problem with the LaLauries, could he? He’d have to inform Jelani of this. Perhaps Marie wasn’t aware of Ralmiel’s presence.

  But now to find Becca, and erase from her mind all the things she’d just witnessed.

  5

  The next day, Bones went out of the Quarter to a shop titled The Swamp Rat, noting with amusement the layer of ground brick sprinkled across the threshold of the door. It was a voodoo defense barrier, supposedly capable of keeping out anyone who meant the shop owner ill. Pity it didn’t work against people who didn’t believe in voodoo. Or vampires.

  As soon as he stepped inside, Bones flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED and locked the door behind him. A wizened little man behind the counter glanced up, blinked…and then, of all things, tried to run.

  Bones was across the room and over the counter in less time than it took the elderly shop owner to clear his seat. He chuckled as the man let out a spate of Creole that cursed Bones, his parentage, and several of his ancestors.

  “Remember, Jean-Pierre, I speak Creole, so anything you say can and will be held against you and all that rot.”

  “Debil,” Jean-Pierre said in English with a hiss. “I ’oped I’d seen the last of you years ago.”

  “Now, mate, you’ll hurt my feelings. Don’t know why you take such an aversion to me. Your grandfather and I got along splendidly, and I know I’m glad to still find you here.”

  Jean-Pierre’s eyes flicked around the shop, but it was empty of anyone but Bones and himself. No surprise there; the wares he had on his shelves were ugly, shoddy T-shirts and other miscellaneous gimmicky items, all in questionable condition and priced higher than most of his competitors.

  But Jean-Pierre’s real business was voodoo. The shops along the Quarter were for the tourists or the uneducated. Jean-Pierre supplied genuine ingredients for the practiced, discerning buyer, and his family had been in the business since almost the inception of the city. He was someone who knew many of the city’s darkest secrets. And because Jean-Pierre had inherited the family trait of being immune to vampire mind control, Bones couldn’t just use his gaze to glare information out of him, more’s the pity.

  “Now then, what did I want to ask you about? Ah, yes, redheaded bloke who goes by the name Ralmiel. Vampire, ’round my height, and has the most amazing new trick of disappearing into thin air. What do you know of him?”

  From the expression on Jean-Pierre’s face, he did know something about Ralmiel, but he didn’t want to share the information.

  Bones didn’t lose a fraction of his smile. “Need me to bash you about a bit before you answer? No trouble at all. Just
let me know which bone you’d like broken first and I’ll get to it straightaway.”

  “Debils,” Jean-Pierre hissed. “Nothin’ but grave walkers, the both of you, ’cept even the earth don’ want you.”

  Bones waved a hand. “Yes, right, we’re all wretched blokes forsaken by God and Mother Nature herself, now get on with it.”

  Bones really had no desire to start beating on the little man. That would take too long.

  “Redheaded debil, he come ’round every so often,” Jean-Pierre said, spitting out the words. “He have fetishes made for him, use magic.”

  “Vampires are forbidden from using magic. It’s one of the few laws Cain laid down for his people. I’m surprised Ralmiel uses it so blatantly.”

  Jean-Pierre’s mouth curled. “Cain. God should have killed him for murdering Abel, not made him into a vampire as punishment instead. As for Ralmiel, those who see ’im use magic don’t live long enough to tell about it, I think.”

  That would keep word from spreading, true enough. But a few people had to know aside from Jean-Pierre. “This magic Ralmiel uses, who makes it?”

  “Don’ know.”

  Bones gave Jean-Pierre a measured stare. “I won’t enjoy it, but I’ll either beat the answer out of you, or I’ll take you with me and keep feeding off your no doubt dreadful-tasting blood until you tire of being my snack and you tell me then.”

  “Hope she curdles your blood to dust,” Jean-Pierre spat, but gave Bones a name. And her location.

  “You ring me if you see Ralmiel again,” Bones instructed Jean-Pierre, writing his number on the back of one of the sloganed coasters for sale on the counter. This one had a tagline of “It won’t lick itself!” Quite true, that.

  “And don’t make me end my long, friendly association with your family by doing something foolish,” Bones added, letting green flash in his eyes as he handed him the coaster.

  Jean-Pierre took it. “I don’t cross debils. Too much bad juju afterward.”

  Bones just nodded as he left. Quite true, that, as well.

  It was Bones’s fourth day in the city when another murder was discovered. As before, Bones went to the scene to see what, if anything, he could use from it to track the LaLauries.

  Jelani spoke with the detective assigned to the case. From their muted conversation, Bones picked up that the detective thought Jelani was an associate of one of the city’s biggest donors, and that Bones was a private investigator.

  Bones made Jelani empty out the flat before he went inside, ignoring the rubbish the detective sputtered about him contaminating the scene. He’d leave the scene a sight less muddled than those blokes.

  Once alone, he walked through the flat, breathing deeply every few moments. Same male and female scent from the other flat. Spent less time here, though, and made a grand mess of things in their haste. Those blood spatters are from an arterial spray, arced wide enough that the girl would have been running when they tore open her throat. Not the same girl they finished off in the kitchen, though. She’s the poor lass who owned the other flat, and she didn’t have any legs left to run on.

  The boy was watching. His blood’s fresher than theirs, and the stench from his fear is smeared all over both rooms. From the shallowness of his wounds, he was likely still alive when they ate his arms…

  Bones felt the shift in the air right before Ralmiel appeared behind him. He spun, his knife flashing out, but the other vampire wasn’t pointing any weapons at him this time. No, Ralmiel was staring almost sadly around the carnage of the room.

  “Mon Dieu,” he breathed, then gave a censuring glance at the knife in Bones’s hand. “Put that away. There’s been enough death in this room, oui?”

  Under normal circumstances, Bones would have disagreed, and then proceeded to stab the hell out of Ralmiel. But the scents, sight, and aura of despairing horror in the flat also made him loath to add to it. Bones lowered his knife, but didn’t let it out of his hand. He wasn’t so affected that he’d lost his wits.

  “Why are you here, if not to attempt to kill me again?”

  Ralmiel walked around the room, inhaling just as frequently as Bones had. He held another small, dark satchel in his grip. Ah yes, that would be Ralmiel’s voodoo version of a teleporter.

  “This was not done by human hands. It is one thing to kill such as you or I”—Ralmiel’s dismissive wave encompassed their mutual lack of worth—“but these are innocents. It is not right.”

  Bones almost rolled his eyes. A hitter with a conscience. If Ralmiel wasn’t out to kill him, he’d buy him a drink and they could talk shop.

  “You didn’t hear about the other murders? You should pay more attention, mate.”

  “I heard about the last one, but didn’t know our kind was responsible. New Orleans is my city. It has its darkness, but not like this. You know who’s doing this?”

  Bones met the other man’s green gaze. “Yeah, I do.”

  Ralmiel waited. Bones said nothing else. Finally, Ralmiel gave Bones an assessing glance.

  “But you are here to kill them, non? You are not too bright if you think Marie will thank you afterward for stealing her vengeance.”

  Bones shrugged. “I’m doing it regardless. Call it a slow business week.”

  Ralmiel laughed, but it had a harsh edge. “Tell me who is behind this, so when I kill you, you can go to your rest knowing I will prevent it from happening again. You have my word.”

  “Thanks ever so, but I’ll take my chances,” Bones replied, green glittering in his eyes.

  Ralmiel didn’t know it, but those magic pouches of his were numbered. Bones had paid a visit to Georgette yesterday, the maker of Ralmiel’s fancy exits, and had persuaded her to switch the ingredients for Ralmiel’s new batch. It barely required any threatening at all. Georgette knew using magic was against vampire law, and as the provider of the product, she was guilty by association. Once Ralmiel ran out of the real fetishes, Bones would have him right where he wanted him. Forced to fight—and die.

  Ralmiel bowed. “As you wish.” Then he squeezed his pouch and vanished from where he’d been standing.

  Bones looked at the empty spot and smiled. Two more down, mate. I suspect your genie impersonation will soon be coming to an end.

  6

  Becca chewed her lower lip. “You’re quiet tonight.”

  Bones glanced up. “Sorry, luv, I’m just a bit preoccupied.”

  She pushed her plate back. At least, three dates later, she’d quit pretending that a bowl of lettuce was all she wanted for a meal.

  “Problems with your client?”

  Becca thought he was a consultant for a corporation looking to save finances by downsizing its nonessential employee positions. It was close to the truth, in a twisted sort of way.

  “Something like that.”

  The real problem was, Bones still wasn’t any closer to finding the LaLauries. They didn’t appear to have their own residence, but just moved from flat to flat of the people they murdered.

  And despite his walking Becca up and down every street in the Quarter the past three nights, she’d caught no glimpse of Delphine LaLaurie. Bones had come across several ghouls on those jaunts, but they were having a bit of harmless fun. Not looking to savage the first person thick enough to follow them inside a building.

  Becca reached out, touching his hand. “Do you know where you’re going to be next, after this job? And, ah, will you be leaving right away when it’s done?”

  He knew what she was really asking him. “I’ll be leaving straightaway when I’m finished. My work takes me all over the world, and leaves precious little time for anything else.” I’m not what you’re looking for, Becca.

  Hurt flashed on her face for a moment, quickly masked behind a false smile. “Sounds exciting.”

  Does it? In point of fact, it can be bloody lonely.

  “You know,” Becca said as the silence stretched, “I’d understand if you just want to drop me home after dinner…”

&nb
sp; “No,” Bones said at once, softening his tone when she blinked at how emphatic he sounded. “I’m sorry, I’ve been a right glum fellow, but I do want to spend more time with you tonight. If you’re willing.”

  He almost hoped she’d say she wasn’t. If the circumstances weren’t so dire, Bones would drop Becca at her house and compel her not to set foot in the city until this was over.

  But he couldn’t stand over the next freshly chewed body and know he might have been able to prevent it. Bones couldn’t sniff them out, not with the river of humanity thronging the streets, but he could have Becca give a good look at any female ghoul he found. One of these times, it would be Delphine.

  “I’d really like to spend more time with you, while I’m here,” Bones said, giving Becca a smile filled with possibilities.

  She smiled back, her scent of unease melting away from her.

  “I’d like that, too.”

  Rotten bastard you are, Bones thought. He didn’t let any of that show on his face, however. Instead, he signaled for the check.

  Power raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Bones turned, muttering a curse when he spied a familiar face headed their way.

  “Excuse me,” he ground out to Becca, rising.

  “’Allo,” Ralmiel called out, sliding into the seat opposite Bones’s. He gave a charming smile to Becca. “Who might you be, ma belle chérie?”

  “No one that concerns you,” Bones said curtly.

  Becca’s mouth dropped. Ralmiel looked offended. “As if you would need to protect such a lovely flower from me. My business is with you, mon ami. Not with people who happen to be around you.”

  Ralmiel didn’t have a reputation for harming innocent bystanders, but Bones wasn’t pleased at Becca being exposed to him. This whole situation was putting her at more risk than he’d intended. He’d have to change his plans for tomorrow night. But first things first.