by Faith Hunter
“Ah,” Leo said. “You will need that bigger clan home.” He was teasing me.
“Yeah, whatever. I’ll take any of Katie’s girls who want to stay in New Orleans as long as they understand that they have to go to school, sign on with a vamp as personal blood-servant, or get a job. A real job, not a pay-for-sex job. And I’ll accept résumés from people wanting in.”
“Will you, now?” Leo asked. “Résumés.”
“Yeah. Pieces of paper with job histories—”
“I know what a résumé is.” Dry, wry, amused.
“Right. Sloan Rosen and his family.” At Leo’s confusion, I said, “He’s NOPD. He has a price on his head by gangbangers.”
“I see.” But it was clear that Leo didn’t see.
“Deon, Katie’s chef, if he wants to stay in New Orleans rather than travel to Atlanta. Up to Katie and Deon, but I’m interested. And Wrassler. He’s honest, capable, and my friend.” And he’d been injured because I hadn’t done enough to keep HQ safe. But I didn’t say that. “And lastly, I want Bruiser. George Dumas. I know he can’t swear to me any more than the Roberes can swear to Clan Arceneau and Grégoire. But he’s mine. Not yours.”
Leo’s eyes flashed; his scent flashed too, taking on the acrid stink of scorched parchment. I thought for a moment he was going to vamp out and that I’d have to stake him too. But Leo managed a breath and said softly, “George Dumas. How do you swear?”
Bruiser moved around the table and up to us, his footsteps silent, his scent heated and calming. “I have signed a legal contract with the Master of the City of New Orleans. If the Master of the City will release me from said contract, I will swear to the Dark Queen and to Clan Yellowrock. To the Master of the City of New Orleans through the Dark Queen. And to New Orleans through her.”
Leo was good at hiding his emotions, but even I could see the pain in his expression. “Your loyalties have changed, one who was once my primo.”
Very precisely, speaking slowly, as if he too had seen Leo’s reactions, Bruiser said, “I am Onorio, Dominantem Civitati—Leonard Pellissier, Master of the City and Hunting Territories of New Orleans and the Greater Southeast. I am Onorio. I am loyal.” But he didn’t say to whom he was most loyal and that seemed to tick Leo off.
“If there is war?” Leo asked, his voice silky and far too soft.
“So long as my position as Onorio does not prohibit me, I will fight beside Jane Yellowrock and Leo Pellissier, for the city of New Orleans and her Mithrans and her cattle.”
“And if my territory alters?”
“Then we will decide what to do, my dearest, best friend.”
Leo tilted his head. “Friend?”
“I will always, for as long as the sun rises and sets, so long as I live, be your friend.” Bruiser held out his hands to Leo, his arms open. Expressions flooded across Leo’s face, emotions that ranged from surprise to fury to grief to hope to some things I couldn’t name. Leo looked at Bruiser’s open hands and arms and looked up into Bruiser’s face. Carefully, slowly, Leo stepped toward his former primo. Bruiser’s arms closed around Leo, Bruiser a good nine inches taller, broader, more muscular than the slight frame of his former master. They stood that way, the positions awkward, stiff, as if they had never hugged before as equals.
And then Leo exhaled and dropped his head against Bruiser’s chest and relaxed. “I have always been your . . . friend, my George.” The odd pause before Leo said the word indicated its human peculiarity. Vamps had associates and sex buddies and servants and slaves and scions and drinking pals, but did they ever have friends?
“I know,” Bruiser said. “Relationships change, Leo. Ours did. But that relationship is still bloody strong and faithful.”
“I am uncertain how to have a . . . friend. My last friend was my brother, El Mago. He turned against me and I killed him. Twice. I do not grieve for my brother, George, but I would grieve for you.”
“Then I must make certain that you never need to kill me, my friend.” There was laughter in Bruiser’s voice, the kind of laughter that was also full of tears. “Will you release me from my contract?”
“I will have papers drawn up and sent out today, releasing you from service one day after the end of the Sangre Duello.”
“Thank you,” Bruiser said softly. “You honor me with your trust and your love.”
Their arms dropped. Leo stepped back and away from Bruiser’s embrace. His black hair had come loose and fell around his face in dark wisps. He looked at me, his eyes more human than I had ever seen them, tears pooling in the Frenchy-black depths. “You will keep my George alive. You will protect my friend.”
“I so swear,” I said, knowing that if I got Bruiser killed, my own life was forfeit. Of course, if I got Bruiser killed I’d want to be dead anyway.
Leo said, “Bring me a cell phone and dial the Everhart-Truebloods. I will accept a verbal swearing for now should they decide to join Clan Yellowrock.” He held out a hand and a blood-servant placed a cell phone in it. It was on speaker and it was ringing.
“Hey, Unca Leo!” Angie said, delight and happiness in her greeting.
Leo’s brows, both of them this time, shot to the ceiling. Then his eyes went wide as shock morphed into something else. Something like wonder.
“This is Angelina. Mama!” she screamed. “It’s Unca Leo!”
I smothered a grin. Uncle Leo. Holy crap, that child was brilliant.
“Unca Weo!” Little Evan shouted in the background. “Unca Weo! Unca Weo!”
“Dear, Blessed Mother of God,” Leo whispered. He sounded horrified.
“This is Molly Everhart Trueblood,” Molly said, sounding wry. “I take it this is Leo Pellissier of New Orleans.”
After a pause that went on too long, Leo said, “It is.”
“Jane said we were being adopted into a vampire clan. Her clan. This call is about that?”
“Daddy! It’s Unca Leo! We’re being adopted by Aunt Jane!” Angie Baby shouted in the background.
I managed not to laugh at the expression on Leo’s face, but it was a near thing.
“Evan, this is Leo,” Molly said. “We need to swear to Jane.”
“I always swear when the head bloodsucker calls,” Big Evan said.
“Shush. Be nice.” We could hear feet stomping in the background, as of children jumping up and down. Together the older Truebloods said in unison, “We agree to adoption into Clan Yellowrock. We swear fealty with the use of magic, and loyalty and love from our hearts, our minds, and our spirits, to Jane Yellowrock. We will work to keep her and all her people safe.”
I jerked. That wasn’t what they were supposed to say. By this adoption, I was supposed to keep them safe. But the words were spoken. I said, “I pledge, undertake, and guarantee that I will keep you safe unto the giving of my life.”
Leo said softly, “Your vows are hereby recorded.”
“‘Bye, Unca Leo!” Angie Baby shouted. “Hey, my Edmund! I love you!”
Leo flinched again, as if something in her words told him things he hadn’t known. Leo ended the call and turned to Edmund, who stood just behind me, still as an undead statue. Something passed between them but was gone before I could understand it.
Gee said quietly, into the silence, “The Dark Queen has changed us. Has changed us all.”
“Thank you,” Leo said. “You are dismissed. I’ll be along in a bit. The werelions and black wereleopard are in the gym, sparring with my Mithrans. I needs must check in with them.” He slid his eyes to me. “I shall inform Kemnebi that you have claimed him for your clan.”
I made a sound of disgust. I’d asked that Kemmie be included so that I could keep an eye on him. Keep my enemies close, to use Leo’s wisdom.
Leo nodded to us and ducked out the back door of the Council Chambers. Sabina, her throat healed but marked with a thin red line, opened t
he first of a stack of papers. “Your signature, Master of Clan Yellowrock.”
“How many siggies?” I asked.
“Forty-seven,” Sabina said.
I huffed an irritated breath and took up the pen. Started signing. It took a while.
When I was done, I checked with Alex. His head was bent over his tablet. “Update on Dominique and the shielded witch?”
He shook his head, curls bouncing, and stood. “Male driver. Facial rec program in progress. Dominique in the passenger seat. Others in the car, faces unrecognizable. Wove through the streets and got on I-10, headed east. I’ll update when I find them again.”
“Good.”
“Plate issued to Mithran Council Chambers,” he said. “I’m running a search for anyone who might be missing. Someone let them into the chambers and into the library.” What he didn’t add was that it had to be someone from inside, likely a member of the security team. Crap.
Gee held out his arm the way a game show model would and I walked toward him, aware of the others behind me, following in a single line as we left the Mithran Council Chambers and headed down the hall toward the elevator, silent. I was deeply, profoundly aware of the people at my back. Of the names I had spoken when I created my clan. Of the weirdness of it all. I had walked out of the mountain woods when I was twelve years old, naked, scarred, scared, with no language, no social skills, a wildling, with nothing at all except a gold nugget clasped in my hand.
Now I had a clan of people who had sworn to me, people I needed to protect. And there would be more. Maybe lots more. A cold chill skittered down my spine at the thought of keeping them all safe and cared for. Gee stopped and asked Eli for his headset. I leaned my back against the wall so I could see up and down it, the cold chills growing worse. Eli leaned against the other side, pulling his brother to his left, into the safest place, though the Kid was tapping into his cell, head down, oblivious. Eli’s hands went to his weapons, his face taking on that still, expressionless mask of the warrior, watching me for clues that might explain my foreboding. I searched up and down, sniffing. I couldn’t see a reason for Eli’s disquiet, for my feeling that something wasn’t right. Trying to keep the scree of sound silent, I sucked the air in through my mouth and over my tongue but detected nothing out of the ordinary.
The elevator door opened and though it was going down before we could go up, we filed in. Gee said, “I have sent word to the people who were invited into Clan Yellowrock. We expect replies and vows soon.”
Or not. I heard the unspoken words. I knew most of my potential clan members wouldn’t be able to swear face-to-face due to distance and time constraints, but I figured most would become my people. Holy crap. My people. The biggest part of me wanted to go back to bed and pull the covers over my eyes. The smallest part told me to pull up my big-girl panties and act like a war woman. Not that war women traditionally wore panties.
The elevator door closed and dropped. Came to a stop. And began to open.
Screams clawed down the hallway, high-pitched squeals and low-voiced growling.
My hands shot out and rammed the doors open. I dashed into the hallway. Catching a glimpse of Eli and Gee pulling weapons, racing after me. The scent of the gym hallway was mold and old sweat and traces of old blood, some of it mine, shampoo and deodorant and locker rooms. I blew through the gym doors.
The stench of wrongness hit me just as Leo himself caught me around the waist. Time stuttered. Leo grabbed me again. Time stuttered. Leo grabbed me again. Leo, holding me. Together we fluttered in and out of time.
Time went flat and still. Returned to normal. My momentum nearly threw us both to the floor, but his vamp strength twisted us until we swung around one last time. He caught our balance and stopped us, like an ungainly dance move as my feet touched down. “My Jane?” Leo breathed. “What was that?”
“I don’t know. Magic?” I lied. But I did know. Time had done something funky. My head spiked with pain, so bad I wanted to close my eyes.
Larry, Leo’s personal manservant, looked at us oddly.
I stopped. Took my own weight and pushed away from Leo. Shifted to the side. Eli and the others stopped too, studying the room, securing weapons. I swept my eyes around the gym.
Three werecats were fighting vamps. A sparring match. Bodies were flying, falling, rolling, and leaping back to the bare-handed/bare-pawed/bare-clawed fight. I caught my breath, watching as they sparred.
The door behind us opened. The smell of lemons swept in, but no one was there. The anomaly. The witch was here.
Before I could shout a warning, a werelion in half-form looked Leo’s way, Asad in half-form. He roared. It was a chuffing, reverberating thunder that stole all other sound from the air. The hairs on my arms and back of my neck stood up in some primal horror that said I was about to die horribly. To Eli I said, “Lemons.”
“I smell them. Searching.”
“Ditto,” Alex said, fingers dancing over his tablet.
The stench of lemons increased and the burn of magic boiled into the wide room. The werelion chuffed, twisted his head on his thick neck, and shook himself. Magic, familiar, somehow. Asad turned. Picked up a vamp. And threw her across the room. She screamed in surprise, hit, bounced, rolled, and lay still. Blood pooled beneath her head. Leo tensed.
The werelion roared again, clawed paw-hands in the air. Asad whipped his whole body to the doorway, his nasal folds opening and closing with each breath. He hadn’t seen me when he looked this way, his eyes on Leo then. This time he saw me. Our gazes met and stuck together like glue.
He threw back his head and roared, this time in unquestioned challenge, fangs white and massive. Beast ripped into the front of my brain. Predator! By instinct, my muscles bunched and my hand found a vamp-killer strapped to my thigh. I pulled it free of its hidden sheath. I was still in half-form. Fighting form. Beast snarled, showing killing teeth.
Kem was closer to our group than the other weres. Pulled a blade that was strapped to his human thigh, screaming a leopard cry. Kem was supposed to be tamed. What had happened to him? Magic . . . Growing heavy, hard to breathe. A staged sparring match had suddenly become real. Kemnebi screamed a challenge.
Leo’s swords swept up. He shouted, “You dare!”
I smelled the bloodlust on Kem-cat. “Predator!” Beast screamed again, this time from my/our throat. Beast gathered control of my body, taking over. She stepped to the side of Leo, protecting her alpha from Kem’s attack. I scrabbled for control as she screamed a cat challenge.
Kemnebi screamed, mouth open wide, snout back in snarl, fangs white. Shifting fast, into a partial half-form. Raced to Jane/Beast. Raised steel claw.
Beast shoved down on Jane.
Ducked under Kemnebi blade. Fell to floor. Stabbed up, into Kem belly. Tore up and side to side. Kem’s belly opened. Blood sprayed. Beast rolled beyond wounded cat. Up to back paws. Standing like Jane. But Kem, wounded, turned on Leo, reaching with leopard claws. Fully cat. Larry jumped in front of Master of the City. Protecting him.
Jane/Beast stabbed Kem in back. Kem dropped to floor. Trying to shift back from leopard form to human, to heal. But blade that struck him had been silvered and had sliced into spine. Kem was trapped in cat form. Was dying.
Larry was on floor. Bleeding. Most of throat gone. Leo was bending over Larry, cutting own fingers to heal human. Thought at Jane, Do not understand.
Thoughts raced through Jane’s mind. Betrayal. Magic, Jane thought. No grindylow anywhere. And Larry tried to save Leo. He might have were-taint.
Beast screamed challenge. Hate pack hunters! Kill pack hunters!
Jane pushed Beast back from control. Fought for alpha position. Beast screamed, Will not be beta to Jane alpha!
Stop! Jane thought. Stop fighting me. I don’t know what’s happening, but this isn’t over. I’m a better fighter with a sword.
Beast let
Jane take over. Pushed power into half-Beast/half-Jane form. Screamed challenge. Asad and Nantale, in half-lion fighting form, attacked, each of them spinning two swords. Eli stepped in front of me, raised a gun, and shot Nantale. She dropped and writhed on the floor. I smelled silver and were blood.
Asad roared, grief and fury in his tone. And the smell of lemons flared brighter. Asad, golden eyes gleaming, attacked. Eli fired. Edmund and I moved around him and engaged the werelion. Asad, king of the Fulani, an alpha male and experienced fighter, took us both on. Edmund ripped him to shreds in seconds. I sliced Asad’s throat. Asad slowed. Blinked. Looked down at his swords as if puzzled. The leader of the Party of African Weres tripped, stumbled, slid to the floor. And died.
Leo stood as Gee and Larry—Lawrence Hefner, not Larry; he hated Larry—were carried off the floor. Gee’s arms and legs were wrapped around the man, Gee’s Anzu magic a sapphire and indigo haze, already healing. Leo slanted his eyes to me. They were vamped out, scarlet sclera and wide, black pupils. Silkily, his accent more French than usual, he asked, “Why did the werecats attack us? We welcomed them into our chambers. We had signed accords.” He was using the royal we, which was always scary. It meant he was royally ticked off.
“I smell lemons. Smelled lemons. The scent is fading. As to why they attacked, ask Nantale about Clan Des Citrons,” I said. Now that the battle was over, my adrenaline began to break down and the pain in my head spiked again. Nausea rose like a hurricane tide and I swallowed it down desperately. I would not hurl in front of these people.
Alex cursed softly to himself. “I can’t figure out how to find the witch. Nothing’s working.” Leo strode to the half-shifted African lion and knelt over her. He lifted her head in his hand and stared into her eyes. “Why have you attacked my people?”
Nantale swallowed and swiveled her eyes to find her husband dead on the floor. Tears leaked from her eyes. “Asad and Kemnebi and Raymond Micheika, our supreme cat, signed a pact with the emperor Titus Flavius Vespasianus for the were-creatures of Africa and Asia. We were given into the claws of a vampire as her tools. I had no choice and no say, but my husband was foolish. And now I am dying.” She swallowed again, and this time there was blood on her lips, bubbling with her breath. Her lungs were compromised. “Micheika will take my kits and kill or enslave them. Swear to me that you will protect my kits and I will tell you where the papers of parley are. And you will know your enemies.”
