blood 03 - blood chosen (19 page)

Reagan didn't know Julia's thought process and continued, “Suddenly,” she clapped her hands together and Julia jumped out of her skin. “I needed to become a scholar on the histories.”

“Whose?” Julia asked, leaning forward, putting her chin on her knees, scooping cooling sand between her fingers and letting it slowly trail out.

Reagan stood, stretching. “Yours, mine... the drinkers.”

Julia stood as well, wiping the granules away like dark sugar. “William is a vampire.”

“Drinker” was a negative term for vampires and Julia found herself offended, though her people had burned them in the flames of a war that had spilled into Region One. William had taught her they were not all alike.

“Yes.” Reagan waited for Julia to elaborate. But she didn't. Reagan's eyes narrowed. “What's his story?”

“Well,” Julia began, looking at her hands instead of the woman in front of her, “He was tortured so Merlin's people could get to me, then he massacred the Southeastern kiss and is now their leader.”

Reagan gave a low whistle. “He gets after it, doesn't he?”

Julia just looked at her. “You have no idea. William can be savage when he's been tested- when we've been tested.”

“He has Singer blood?”

“Yeah. And he can shift to a raven.”

“Well... that's very interesting.” Reagan put her hands behind her back again, thinking. “That is rare even for a Singer?”

“Yes. But a lot of vamps who have Singer ancestry can do some... unusual stuff.”

“I bet,” Reagan said. “Makes the whole lot of them more dangerous.”

“Kinda,” Julia said and blew a hair out of her face, “depends on who you ask. William is a different guy... sophisticated... deliberate.”

“How old is he?”

“Three hundred years give or take.” Julia laughed at how ridiculous it sounded. “That sounds so weird,” she said out loud.

“It's normal to me but for you... you weren't raised as a Singer?”

“No,” Julia said. “In fact, I didn't even know what I was until I was taken.”

“What a disaster. But being a Rare One is random. You must have manifested late.”

Julia nodded. “I did. I've 'become',” Julia said, her fingers making little airquotes. “And now I have all this crap I have to instantly decide. Because, let's hear it for all kinds of life experience to lead people. Nope. I just have to because I got stuck with the perfect blood.” Julia began to walk beside Reagan and they made their way back to the house.

“It wouldn't be so bad if all the guys just... I don't know, made it simpler.”

“And they say women are complicated,” Reagan commented with a snort.

“Who the hell are 'they'?”

“Somebody that doesn't have to be in this situation.”

“Exactly,” Julia said.

A noise caused Reagan to tense and then she saw him coming.

Slash.

Reagan released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Julia watched each of the Combatant bleed out of the woods.

What was happening now?
Julia wondered, stress sinking its familiar claws deep.

“She's arrived,” Slash said, his chest heaving from the sprint.

“Who?” Reagan asked, a furrow creasing between her brows.

“Delilah,” Julia breathed.

They turned to her.

“Yes,” Slash looked at her curiously. “How did you know?”

Julia tapped her head. “Telepath.” She had to only search and that new signature bleeped on her radar.

“Ah,” Slash said. Then he gave Julia a look that might have been sympathetic.

Paul could only soften so much of the thoughts of other people's minds.

But not hers.

Julia heard Delilah like a summons and it was Julia who led the three of them to the house.

The Combatant followed, pacing the Rare One.

*

Julia heard the arguing even as far away as she was from the huge mansion and hesitated. Her life was so filled with strife already, she didn't know if she wanted another entanglement.

There was no decision about it though, as once she heard Scott her insides tightened painfully, his emotional signature overlapping onto hers and she waded into the fray of emotions. She didn't have to be a telepath to feel the snarled mess of his thoughts.

Scott was angry... and- he was afraid.

Julia came at a jog, Reagan easily matching her stride with a fighter's gait.

“You knew this entire time and didn't tell anyone!” Scott's voice exploded into the night. “You thought you'd what- kill Julia, take over the Regions, one by one, then secure your little lackey and rule with ultimate power.”

“She must have the blessing of those who would support her,” Reagan said as she walked into the yelling match without pausing and Julia looked from a screaming Scott to a smug Jacqueline. Then her eyes came to a young woman with looks so much like Scott's it made Julia's step falter.

She was vampire, but she was also something more.

Delilah turned cool eyes to Julia and she fought to remain impartial, though she knew that the advisors were now complete. The triumvirate.

Jacqueline laughed, her hands now free. “I am still royal.”

“Your attempt on Julia's life will not be without consequence, Jacqueline. Your lies of lineage have been uncovered. You shall not rule here,” Marcus announced. “Anywhere,” he finished.

Julia stepped forward and Jacqueline's hawkish eyes trained on her with unerring accuracy, no light needed, though the moon lent plenty.

“No,” Reagan said, “allow me.” Reagan circled the older woman warily. “You have no honor. I would never follow where you lead. There is no contest.”

“You would be brought to heel like the dog you are,” Jacqueline replied easily.

“I am many things but 'dog' is not one, Singer bitch.” Reagan let the barest of growls slip out from between her teeth.

“Stop. You're right, Reagan, you won't follow her because she won't be in a position to lead,” Alan Greene said and Reagan gave a hard look at her uncle. He had been glaringly absent, attending to Lacey as soon as they'd arrived at Region One.

“You're so wrong,” Jacqueline said and Julia began to worry when a smile as venomous as the poison Jacqueline had used overtook her face. She never took her eyes off Julia and called out, “Anthony.”

Julia watched the energy swirl around the Were before he was illuminated. A veil of red, like a halo of blood, began to radiate all around him. Julia stumbled back and she felt Scott come from behind her, wrapping his arms around her. “What is it?”

“He's red... he's all red.”

Delilah smiled at Julia. “Aura reader,” she said and hissed with her delicate fangs peeking out. The Combatant swarmed around her and William said, “Leave her, she will not fight you all,” he indicated, swinging an elegant hand in her direction.

“Not yet,” she replied, nodding in his direction.

“Delilah, my delicate flower,” Jacqueline began and Delilah gave her scathing eyes, interrupting her, “I am no one's flower.”

“You will be.”

“You are a master at self-delusion, Jacqueline.”

Tony stepped up beside Jacqueline and the color that burst around her body was like a flame that's come back to life, a bright violet, almost black.

“Do you see colors around them?” Scott asked in quiet confirmation.

Julia nodded slowly, it was like fireworks had just gone off, a pure sensory overload as colors swirled and whipped around each supernaturals’ body.

Marcus came forward. “You see their life's colors?”

“I guess... I think so,” Julia replied, her throat suddenly dry.

“She does,” Delilah said.

“How do you know, Delilah?” Slash asked, hands folded as he cautiously studied the newcomer.

“For I am as well,” Delilah said with a smile. “I have Singer blood, thanks to the blood whore who stands in our midst.”

Julia watched all the purple bleed out of Jacqueline's aura, leaving it like ink.

They all looked at Delilah, then Jacqueline.

“What color am I?” Julia asked her as a pale blue like the distant Alaskan fjords moved with her body as she came closer to Julia, like icy mist.

“Why white, of course, Rare One- white.”

“No,” Jacqueline breathed.

“Yes,” Delilah answered.

Jacqueline's face became a mask of rage and she clasped her hand around Tony's. Julia looked between the two of them and was suddenly afraid down to her toes.

“You cannot punish the sire of the Moon Warrior... or- his mate,” Jacqueline announced and Julia thought she sounded entirely too happy about it.

Julia felt the silence rather than heard it. It was a great absence of sound like a black hole had opened, in this moment rather than some distant point in space.

“Jacqueline, don't do this,” Marcus warned.

“Do not?” she railed. “I will... I must.”

It was interesting how the force of her personality stole her beauty, leeching it from every plane of her face. “What's happening?” Julia asked.

“I am protecting what's most important,” Jacqueline said.

“What?” Julia asked.

“Me,” she replied.

Julia looked from a healing Tony to Jacqueline.

It was like a stone of portentous understanding fell, without ever landing.

But it would land, of that, Julia had no doubt.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Karl

Truman looked around him and surveyed the supes with a passive-aggressive grunt. He loved his new body. It no longer lumbered along. He'd been big before, the former athleticism of his youth propelling him through his middle-aged years without too much trouble, but aches and pains had begun to awake in him and he'd known his time on the job was limited.

He'd been a good cop, and now he was a werewolf. And, according to David, his Packmaster, he was now one of the count-on-one-hand Reds. Truman took another long drag on his cig and blew a smoke ring into the night sky while the supes argued and screamed at each other.
Let them have at it,
Truman decided easily. His quarry had been found, the riddle solved- the girls, and Caldwell, safe.

“That'll kill ya,” Cynthia Adams said from behind him. He knew it was her- couldn't stop the sniffer for his life.

“Not anymore,” he remarked, scraping the butt of the cig on the sole of his boot and stuffing it in his pocket. His hand moved to the pocket of his shirt and found half a pack had survived the last thirty hours of his life. It was a beautiful thing.

Cynthia shrugged. “So...” she began, looking over at Julia, Jacqueline and the newcomer, Delilah. “What do you think of all this?”

Truman looked at the girl. “I think I'm out of a job and I'm in the middle of something that doesn't have a place for me.”

Cynthia nodded. “Yeah, I hear that.” Then she smiled, sweeping a palm toward him. “I guess you got the good end of the stick. Nobody would recognize you.”

“Not true. I'm so goddamned old that there's a few people who would remember me this way.”

“Did you...” Even though the light was dim on the porch, Karl could see her blush.

He felt himself frowning. “Spit it out.”

“Did you really look this good back then?”

It was Truman's turn to feel the heat rise on his face. “I don't know, what kind of a dumb ass question is that?” Christ, he had to get out of here. Grab a walk, some space, whatever it took. Watching the drama of Julia Caldwell unfold from thirty feet away was too close for Truman.

“Shit- sorry. Don't take it personally,” Cynthia said, rolling her bottom lip into her mouth and nibbling it with small white teeth.

“Okay, listen,” Truman said, raking fingers through his hair then realizing he had hair to rake. Disconcerted, he let his hand drop. “You've had a couple of years to get used to this weirdness. Me,” he jabbed a thumb in his chest, “I was a cop a couple of days ago, minding my business, doing the job and – bam!” He threw his fists together in a collision of flesh and Cynthia gave a startled yelp. Karl didn't know what to do with that so he ignored it. “Some ancient werewolf... a
werewolf
for cripe's sake, takes a bite out of me and now I'm... one of them.”

Cynthia approached him, her hair a strange color between silver and gold, the illumination of the porch light and the moonlight at the edges of the deck fighting with each other. “Seems to me that it beats being a human. Seems to me that you found Julia and me. And Jason.” She threw up her palms and narrowed her eyes on him. “Don't pity yourself, Detective Truman.”

“No, Miss Adams. I'm not some pansy who needs false sympathy from people to get off. I mean, I don't have anything to identify with. I was a cop, and now I'm some kind of mythical creature that I didn't know existed until last week. Coming to terms and all that happy ho-ho shit.” He watched her face pale at the revelation and lit up again. Felt good to be back to smoking. Too bad the damn Singers weren't smokers. He'd have to figure that out. His one vice was back to stay.

“What about the politics? Do you see what's happening here?” Cynthia asked, her eyes searching his face and not liking what she saw there.

Truman shrugged. “Not my problem anymore. They've got a whole boatload of guys poised to take out the first person who harms Julia. I'm an accessory. I'm not needed. And believe me,” his eyes drilled hers, “I'm low man on the totem pole. They made that crap clear from the get go. Pudwackers,” Truman added in a mutter.

Truman's nostrils flared and he straightened, Cynthia looked at his face and turned, automatically stepping back from where he stared into the blackness just off the porch.

“Truman,” Jason greeted and beside him Emmanuel nodded to the newer Were.

Truman faced them, his back to the porch deck that intersected the wall. He didn't want anyone having access to his back. His eyes flicked to the Adam's girl, as he thought of her. Actually, he noticed that she was a woman now. She was watching the Were from the other pack...

“Truman,” Manny acknowledged.

“Hey....” Truman didn't bother to feign not remembering, he dug his third cigarette out of the pack and lit it, the red glow springing to life like a firefly in the gloom. “Manny,” he supplied. His dark eyes never left Truman. Who now understood that was dominant eye contact. Karl didn't drop his gaze. Instead he nodded as neutrally as possible. “Thanks, I'm not great with names.”