by Faith Hunter
I wanted to feed the earth. Soulwood was awake and needing.
“Huuunger,” Yummy said.
Huuuunger, I thought.
“Shaddock’s on the way,” Rick said. “He’s dropping off his people at the house and coming directly to your twenty. How badly is she injured?”
I swallowed down my hunger. “Bloody with open wounds. And vamped out.”
“Feed me,” she whispered, leaning toward Occam. Reaching.
“Can you contain her,” Rick said. It wasn’t exactly a question. Contain. Not kill.
I drew a stake. I had never staked a vampire. I’d been taught how at Spook School, but training and combat are very different things. I placed the stake in Occam’s lap and opened my car door. Shoved the low-light/IR headgear off. Raced around Occam’s car, knees bent, my service weapon at the ready. It was loaded with silver rounds. Yummy wasn’t very old. Silver rounds might kill her. But regular rounds would only make her mad. Yummy was a friend. I might have to kill her.
She was focused on Occam, her pupils black and wide, the whites the color of blood. “Cat,” she whispered. “I have missed the taste of your blood.”
My hunger focused on the bloody vampire. “Hey, Yummy,” I shouted. Her head whipped to me. Need ached through me. “You control yourself or you’ll wish you had,” I whispered.
“Maggot,” she hissed.
“Yeah. I’ll consume your dead flesh,” I whispered, barely a breath of sound.
Yummy laughed, the laughter the devil might make while he tortured lost souls. She leaped. At Occam.
ELEVEN
My finger began to squeeze the trigger.
She was illuminated, leaping through the air. A pop of displaced air sounded. And she was gone. Just disappeared. Something thumped on the ground to my side in the dark.
The shock stole my need away. I released the trigger and whipped around, spotting a rolling, hissing, moaning something in the darkness. “What just happened?” I asked the empty space in front of us.
“Lincoln Shaddock happened,” Occam said. “He tackled Yummy into the weeds. Saved our butts.”
I sat down on the ground hard. And just breathed. Mosquitoes buzzed around me. If they had been here before, I hadn’t noticed. I finally holstered my weapon, fighting tears and bloodlust. Occam squatted near me, his knees spread, his hands dangling between them. I could see officers in the dark staring at his scars, but he just looked like Occam to me. He handed me my stake and tapped off his mic. “Good move, Nell, sugar. You okay?”
“I’m just fine and dandy,” I said. The dregs of my bloodlust wriggled deep inside.
“Liar.”
“I am. I totally am.” And I could deal with the comment about Yummy missing the taste of Occam’s blood later. “We need to get into the house and render assistance.”
“Yes, we do.” He offered me a hand and I let him raise me to my feet. “Before I met you,” Occam said to me. “Not since.”
A mishmash of relief and happiness filled my chest and I grinned at my cat-man, who had read my mind. “Good.” Together, we got in his car and sped up the street to Ming’s battleground. Weapons ready to fire, held in two-hand grips, we jogged into the well-lit yard and drive at Ming’s.
There were two pale humans lying, unmoving, on Ming’s lawn. I provided cover while Occam checked pulse points on both victims. They were bloody and maimed, their throats and wrists and upper arms showing holes from multiple feedings. Naturaleza vampires drank from any pulse point on their cattle and I didn’t want to know what other sites had been bitten as the humans were drained.
I started shaking, my fingers tingling. I was hyperventilating. I fought to slow my breathing, wishing I could touch the ground with a single fingertip. Wishing I could call on Soulwood, reaching through the earth to find calm. But the blood on the ground would be construed as sacrifice. I couldn’t claim the victims and the earth for my own. Secrets. I had secrets to protect.
“Nell?” Occam asked.
“I’m good. Probie nerves,” I lied and Occam knew it.
The front door was open, throwing a wedge of light into the darker yard. A familiar form stood there, slight, Asian. Composed as if he had gunfights on his property all the time. Cai, Ming’s primo. He was wearing a headset and he bowed to us. It was a slight bow, but it was there just the same. I faltered, and followed Occam’s return bow, my head not dipping quite as low as Cai’s had.
“The council chambers of Ming of Glass, Master of the City of Knoxville, are secured,” Cai said. “We have taken two living enemy Mithrans captive to learn what they know, but the human SWAT team will not allow us to interrogate the parasites.”
“Not a problem,” Occam said. “Does PsyLED have permission from the Master of the City to enter and to parley with the SWAT team? This must not be construed as opening diplomatic relations, as I don’t have the authority for that.”
Cai tilted his head slightly. “Your words negate permanent contact and communication between sovereign countries, parley that your Congress has not agreed upon between the United States of America and Mithrans. This is parley for emergency circumstances. Is this correct?”
“Correct,” Rick said into my earbud.
Into the same earbud, FireWind said, “Let me speak to him.”
“Call me on my cell,” I said to my up-line bosses. To Cai, I said, “Ayatas FireWind, PsyLED special agent in charge of the eastern seaboard, is calling you on my cell phone. He is able to parley with you.” My cell rang and I answered, “Ingram here.”
“No,” Cai said. “We will not speak to this wind of fire. Ming will parley at this time only with humans and creatures we know.”
I felt Occam stiffen. In my earbud, Rick muttered. I figured he was talking to FireWind on a private channel. Silence stretched and I was pretty sure that Cai’s face tightened, as if he was ready to hit us or to bolt. We needed him. And we couldn’t wait on an off-site political decision.
“Fine,” I said, speaking into my mic. “Everything is unofficial, then, to be handled only on a local level, with nothing of national or international consequence.”
FireWind said, “Ingram!” He didn’t sound happy. But he wasn’t here, watching Cai.
“Such is acceptable to Ming of Glass and those who serve her,” Cai said instantly.
“Does that put us in charge?” Occam asked.
“Yes. In the future,” FireWind said, his words clipped, “probationary agents are to be seen, not heard.”
I started to tell FireWind that he sounded like a churchman talking to one of his womenfolk, but Occam put a hand on my arm and mouthed, Later.
“Fine,” I said to the boss’s boss. To Cai I said, “We’ll talk to SWAT and to Ming. I mean, my senior partner will talk.”
Occam chuckled silently, cat chuffing. I narrowed my eyes at him and he smothered the soundless laughter. I ended the call without saying good-bye, holstered my weapon, and we followed Cai inside, into the light and frozen air of an overworked air-conditioning system. My sweat chilled and I shivered.
There were three bodies and pools of blood in the foyer. All human. All dead. Weapons at their sides. They had died fighting. I followed Occam past without looking. Much. Not seeing the difference between the blood of a threat and the blood of a victim, my land wanted the bodies. Wanted the blood.
No, I thought. No.
My stomach churned. I clenched my teeth and said nothing as we entered the main room. Medic raced in and started attending to the humans on the floor, checking for vitals. In a corner, two vampires were secured with silver cuffs, back to back. The reek of burning vampire flesh soured the air, coming from the silver wire wrapped around them. Both were bleeding and vamped out, struggling, burning. I wanted to draw my weapon and shoot them, I wanted to take their blood for the land, but I resisted. Everyone had vest cams.
&nbs
p; I heard a soft pop of sound and flinched. Lincoln was standing beside me. Once again, he had moved with vamp speed, displacing air. Shaddock was long legged, a little rough around the edges, his shoulder-length dark hair swinging around his craggy face. He was wearing work boots, jeans, and a cotton button-down shirt splattered with a fine spray of blood. And he was carrying a single-bladed ax. Not what I expected in a vampire rescuer. More like a lumberjack on holiday. The tall, spare man nodded at me and at Occam and Cai, three small bobs of his head, in what felt like an old-timey greeting. Cai bowed back, a deep obeisance, before leading the way to the captive vampires and the SWAT team leader. Gonzales was standing in front of the prisoners, his weapon at the ready.
I stared around the room as the three men and Occam chatted about what was going to happen next, the administrative transfer of the premises, the occupants, and a lot of other legal stuff I needed to hear and would have found fascinating, if I hadn’t been holding down my bloodlust. It wanted to feed the land. It needed . . .
When they had everything settled to their respective satisfactions, Cai knelt in front of the captive vamps, holding the gaze of the female. She was the older of the two, her fangs a good three inches long, curved, and thicker than most. And . . . she had upper and lower fangs, which I’d heard was common in one bloodline of European vampires. Cai held her gaze. I knew how hard that was. Nearly impossible for a human.
Occam touched my arm and we stepped to the side. Ming of Glass appeared and took our place. Her power filled the room and ached on my bare skin. I wanted to claw it off me, but that might be construed as an insult.
Shaddock dropped his head a bit lower to Ming than he had to the rest of us. “My old friend. I wish we had been here sooner. We will stay and heal your people.”
Ming dropped her head, equally low, to Shaddock. “You are the balm of Gilead to me, my old friend. My companion in arms.”
I blinked at the balm of Gilead comment. The balm was a medicinal perfume mentioned in the Bible, maybe from a camphor-smelling plant or the terebinth tree. That Ming would mention it was unexpected and jarring. Maybe for vampires, the balm was blood, or loyalty, or a combination of the two.
“We will fight together,” Shaddock said, his voice soft and leisurely, an almost-familiar hill country accent. “I offer you my strength and my power to determine our mutual enemies.”
Shaddock held out a hand and Ming took it. Holding it, she turned to the female captive. “The name of your master,” she said softly, “or I shall drink you down and claim you as my own.”
“You do not have the power to claim me,” the female vampire said. “Even with the help of that bumpkin.” The female had a foreign accent, one I couldn’t place except that it wasn’t from around here. Maybe someplace in Europe.
“I have far more power than your pitiful master ever imagined,” Ming said. “Together, the Master of the City of Asheville and I are a force to be reckoned with.” She lunged at the vampire. Grabbed her behind the head. Sank her teeth in at the female’s neck.
I flinched, taking two steps back before I could stop myself. Ming lifted the other vamp and they settled to an ottoman. At her side, still holding her free hand, Lincoln withdrew a small blade from his boot and pricked Ming’s pinkie finger. He put it in his mouth and sucked.
I frowned in confusion. Occam was watching the vampires, his attention on the bound male. “Don’t try it,” Occam advised. He raised his service weapon, aimed at the vampire. “I got silver rounds and no mores against using them to shoot out your knees. You’ll limp forever.”
Weapons ratcheted behind us. Occam turned slightly and raised his voice. “PsyLED! We got this.”
“Don’t look like you got shit, dude. Fangheads sucking on each other? You should let us take them in.”
“You have jails that’ll hold them?” Occam asked. “Lined in silver and secured from daylight? Something to feed them so they stay sane? No? Then let us do our job.”
I heard feet shuffle away.
Occam said, “Ming of Glass, we are under local rules of parley. I surely do hope you plan to share whatever you learn. Oh. And don’t kill the li’l vampire lady, okay? That might get my butt in a heap of trouble.”
Her teeth still buried in the vampire’s flesh, Ming shifted her eyes to him and smiled.
* * *
• • •
Twenty minutes later, Ming of Glass pushed away from the vampires she had been drinking down. She was flushed, full of blood, and healthy. Lincoln dropped her pinkie finger and hauled her to her feet, an arm around her waist. There was something sexual and passionate in the action and I felt my body react. Cai guided them both to a sofa, where the two master vampires sank down gracefully. I pretended not to notice that Ming ended up in Shaddock’s lap and his arms closed about her. If I had to guess, the two had been lovers in the past. Maybe still were.
Ming said, “We have learned all they know about our attackers. And we have a name.” She looked at me. “Maggoty. Have you or your people ever heard of Godfrey of Bouillon? In French, he is called Godefroi de Bouillon.”
I started searching on my cell, texting that name with possible spellings to JoJo and Rick. As I worked, Ming kept talking. “There is a vast power vacuum in the world of Mithran and Naturaleza politics since the two strongest of us—Titus, the emperor of Europe and Leo Pellissier of the United States—are dead and the Dark Queen has gone to ground. Many attempt to fill those voids. Godfrey is here to claim my city and all its cattle as his own.”
“You got that, JoJo?” I muttered into my mic.
“Got it. Searching databases. Good guess on the spelling, Ingram.”
Ming went on, “His people have attacked your lands tonight, my friend, Lincoln. He has claimed your clan home as his own. We do not know that the Dark Queen will fight him for this.”
“We don’t need her, Zhane,” Shaddock said in a local accent. “We defeated his people here. As soon as things are secure here, we can take back my lands. We will exact revenge, my love.”
“Yessss,” Ming said. “And now we know where they laired the last nights. In this neighborhood, among my neighbors, draining them. This too will be avenged.” Ming looked at me and then at Occam. “How long will this local parley last? Will PsyLED Unit Eighteen fight beside the Mithrans of Knoxville, or will you allow the city to fall into the hands of the Naturaleza of Europe, Godefroi de Bouillon?”
My cell rang, and the area code and number were both unfamiliar. I answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Give the cell to Ming of Glass,” FireWind said.
I handed my cell to Ming. “It’s my boss, Ayatas FireWind. He wants to parley with you.”
“I do not know this name,” Ming said, still refusing again to talk to people she didn’t know.
“If he lies, you can take it out of my hide,” I said quickly, stepping back, leaving the cell in her hands.
Ming took the cell and said into the microphone, “If you treat with us without honor, we will take the life of your Maggot.”
Across the distance, I heard the voice of my newest boss say, “I always speak with honor and honesty, Ming of Glass.”
Take the life of your Maggot . . . Ming had just threatened my life. Which meant she would kill me and also kill my family if it suited her. She thought I was important, of value, but powerless. Well. She was wrong on both counts. I had a feeling that I’d have to show Ming of Glass I wasn’t someone to be trifled with, and soon. Shotguns wouldn’t scare her. But Soulwood would.
* * *
• • •
Around four a.m., the moon hidden by trees or the hills ringing the plateau, the killing battleground had become a crime scene, with all the dead being carried off for postmortems and the living either healed or sent to area hospitals. Occam and I left the site of the battle between Ming of Glass and Godefroi de Bouillon, and went back to HQ t
o file reports. Rick gave Occam another assignment, leaving me on my own. By five twenty, I was on my way to God’s Cloud of Glory Church to pick up my sister and to talk about child care. My bloodlust had gone unsatisfied but had at least quieted.
* * *
• • •
I sat in the truck for a bit, reading through my messages to see an update on Larry Aden. He was in jail, awaiting a bond hearing and a psych eval. That was good. I didn’t want to have to shoot him this morning. It was Sunday and I was here for one of the sermons I had agreed to attend as part of getting custody of Mud, not murder.
I didn’t knock, just slipped from the truck cab and in the door of the Nicholson house. No one noticed I had arrived and it gave me time to watch everything and everyone.
Sam, his heavily pregnant wife, SaraBell, my sister Esther and her husband, Jedidiah Whisnut, and Mud were all there, gathered around Daddy’s rocker, chatting with him as the patriarch drank the first of what would be many cups of coffee today. Esther was my true sib, and I remembered her touching her hairline like I did. I studied her from my hidden position and thought her hair looked more red, like mine. Over the din I heard talk about greenhouses.
There were ten or twelve young’uns—some of them neighbor kids, I was certain—running around yelling some church song about Noah and the ark and the animals that came to him to be saved from the flood. If there was a tune, I couldn’t discern it. I wasn’t sure where they had heard about SpongeBob SquarePants, but I was pretty sure he hadn’t been on the ark and I had no idea how he had been worked into the song.
A group of teens and preteens were sitting around a small table, sipping coffee and talking politics. It was boys on one side and many more girls on the other, but there was still some interplay between the disparate groups. Four older boys sat in the far corner, alone, with their heads together. They were dressed for outdoor work and had likely just finished chores. I knew Zeke, Harry, and Rudolph, my half brothers, and one who was not a Nicholson boy. All four looked troubled. Resentful.
