Death's Rival (36 page)

Sabina said, “Any practicing Naturaleza who is tainted with
Sanguine pestis
will be held captive until such time as a cure is found. Any
Naturaleza not tainted with
Sanguine pestis
will put aside the evil and practice Fame Vexatum or suffer the penalty of the council
and my wrath. All of de Allyon’s scions and loyal subjects who still adhere to the
ways of the BloodCross will be accepted into Pellissier’s clans under his authority.
So do I rule, and so shall I be obeyed.”

The icy wind dropped and disappeared. I searched out Leo in the crowd. He was standing
with Koun, his back against a pillar at the edge of the Peristyle. At his feet were
three dead vamps, staked and bloody. He watched as I walked to him, holding the head
of my enemy out in front of me, his blood dribbling from the severed stump. The words
that came from my mouth were stilted and formal, and sounded nothing like me at all,
yet they were perhaps more like me than any words I had ever uttered. “Lucas de Allyon
killed my people. He killed the
Tsalagiyi
—the Cherokee.”
The people my kind had sworn to protect.
“He enslaved us, killed us, and drank us down. He destroyed us. Despite the fact
that you betrayed me and forced a binding, I am in your debt for the favor of his
death at my hands.”

Leo took the head by the hair, accepting the gift. “In recompense of your debt and
in honor of your service, you may choose a gift from among mine. Choose wisely,” he
said.

I shrugged my acceptance. The Peristyle was a bloody battleground. Five vamps were
lying dead, three of them Leo’s—Kabisa and Karimu, sworn to Grégoire and Clan Arceneau,
had died fighting back to back.
Koun was kneeling over the body of Hildebert, a German vamp whose name meant “bright
battle,” and who had died fighting, still wielding a blade as his head hit the floor.
Hildebert and Koun were the warriors of Clan Pellissier, and Koun bent his head low
over Hildebert’s chest, bloody tears dripping, to run across his friend’s body.

In the far shadows, Rick walked out of the wood, along the path I had taken during
my battle with the Enforcer and his human accomplice. I remembered the human Beast
had savaged; her claws and killing teeth had marked his flesh. I had some explaining
to do soon. I didn’t think it would be a pretty discussion.

I looked down at my hands, the blood drying and cold. It seemed I’d always had blood
on my hands, from the time my grandmother had given me my first blade. De Allyon’s
hair and blood were caught under my nails. The hair was coarse and black as the night
sky. I took a breath at the sight of them, the action of my chest erratic, the muscles
jerking and stabbing. Tears flooded my eyes. I curled my fingers under, the blood
tacky on my skin. A sob rose in my chest, gathering a scream with it, tangling into
some huge snarled pain, like roots twisting tight and choking. They were stuck, wedged
in place, blocked by some organic dam that kept the agony of my soul from finding
release. Tears gathered and settled inside, floating close to the surface, but obstructed,
unable to find freedom. I clenched my hands, the blood sticky.

Ahead of me, Eli pointed a rifle at Sneak Cheek, the Tequila Boy we had suspected
of being leak number two. During a debriefing, I’d have to ask what Eli had seen.
Later. Much later. I nodded to two Vodka Boys and three Tequila Boys, talking quietly
about getting good and drunk before dawn.

I passed El Diablo, standing by himself, and he gave me a small nod, touching his
combat helmet, like some old-time Western cowboy. I lifted a finger at him, and though
I didn’t manage a smile, I did manage to keep my sobs in.

When I passed the last marine, I took a breath, painful and coarse sounding, dropped
my hands, and walked to Bayou Metairie, sliding out of my flip-flops as I went. I
waded into the water, feeling Beast looking out through my eyes. She spotted the gator
in the distance, nostrils above the surface, but it wouldn’t bother me, not with vamp
blood on my skin. I looked up in the black sky and found the North Star, orienting
myself to face east. There was no ritual for my kind of Christian who had faced battle
and killed. Maybe the Roman Catholics had one. Absolution. Something. The Cherokee
would have one, and Aggie One Feather would guide me through it some morning soon.
But I needed something now, when the night and the blood of my enemies coated me,
their deaths pressing on me.

In two steps, the water rose up my thighs. Without looking, I knew that Rick was standing
on the bank, watching me, Leo and Bruiser and Eli behind him. Rick’s wolf and his
Soul stood beside him. Something like pain cut through me, a steel blade of misery
and grief, sharp and burning cold. But nothing in life was set in stone and nothing
in life is promised us. Not happiness, not joy, not love. Everything was variable
and mutable and inconstant. Perhaps Rick and I still could be together. Someday. But
I couldn’t count on that. I couldn’t count on anything except God, death, and myself,
and sometimes not even myself.

I looked up into the eastern sky. “I call on the Almighty, the Elohim, who are eternal.
Hear me. See me.” I knelt, dropping slowly below the muddy surface, the cold water
closing over my head, washing away the blood of my enemies. I stood just as slowly,
letting the water run through my clothes and hair and over the drying blood on my
skin.

The water trickled off me, into silence. Nothing moved now that Sabina’s magics had
died away, the trees of the park motionless. Even the vamps had stopped moving, standing,
all of them, friends and enemies alike, watching me.

I turned to my right, facing north, and whispered, knowing that the vamps and weres
would hear, and not caring. “I call upon my
Tsalagiyi
ancestors, and upon the grandmother and father of my kind. Hear me.” I knelt and
dropped below the surface of the water. When I rose, my skin felt cleaner, my soul
less soiled. Cold prickles lifted my flesh and water ran from me, cleansing.

I blinked against it. When the water draining down my face cleared, I caught a glimpse
of humans in night camo standing in the crowd of enemies over de Allyon’s clan, guns
at the ready. The Tequila Boys. One stood beside de Allyon’s heir, now the clan leader.
Another stood beside his
secundo
scion. Guarding. If we had enemies among our own, that was finished now. They were
free of obligation and coercion. Leo was safe now.

I turned west. “I call upon my guardian angel, Hayyel. Hear me.” I heard the wings
of a night bird on the far bank, but resisted the urge to look behind me. My human
and vamp watchers were not alone. Not anymore. I knelt, letting the water close over
me, cleansing me. Purifying me. When I gained my feet, the water pulled through my
hair and it lay on the surface like a veil.

I faced south. “I call upon the Great One, God who creates.” A predawn breeze blew
along the length of the bayou, growing harder, stronger, smelling of wet and leafless
trees and water birds and the soil of the earth. I dropped once again below the surface,
and as the water closed over me, it took the last of the blood with it, leaving me
clean. Leaving me at peace. I stayed that way, kneeling in the mud, under the water,
waiting, feeling the unaccustomed cleanliness of my unconventional baptism.

I stood, the water cascading from me, and turned right, facing east again. I felt
the current swirl around me, and I knew the alligator was swimming close for a look,
tasting the flavor of water and the strange blood in it. But I was still unafraid
of the creature.

“I call upon the Trinity, the sacred number of three.” Beast growled low in my mind,
the sound a rumble as I dropped below the water. I rose and said softly, looking at
the night sky, “I call upon the Redeemer, the blood sacrifice, for peace and for forgiveness.
I seek wisdom and strength, purity of heart and mind and soul.” In the distance an
owl called, loud and long, the hooting echoing. Nearby another answered, three plaintive
notes.

I had survived the vamp blood-feud, alive and unhurt. I had turned that feud on my
enemy and taken his head. Though the vamps now had better confirmation that I wasn’t
human, they weren’t much closer to knowing what I was than they had been. I smiled
up at the nearly new moon.

Rick stepped into the water, approaching me slowly, and I looked away from the night
sky to watch him come. His face was hard, his eyes dark. Suddenly I remembered his
words, lightly spoken on the bank of the Mississippi. I remembered the human with
his side torn open by killing teeth. And I remembered his words.
“Don’t make me have to kill you. Shoot you with silver.”

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him that I hadn’t eaten the human. Rick’s hand
came up. The night exploded. Pain hit me in the chest, left side, up high. The world
went dark. I fell back. Black water closed over my head, filled my mouth, my nose.
But I wasn’t breathing. I had no desire to. I could see under the water, Beast’s vision
taking over, but the world was telescoping down into darkness. Rick, the cop, had
done his duty, thinking I had gone
U’tlun’ta,
had become the liver eater, the evil of my kind.

Beast shoved at me, hard, her pelt abrading my skin, her claws tearing at my fingertips.

My heart isn’t beating.

Heart shot.

Shift!
she screamed.

No time to shift.

I’m dead
.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I Was Alpha. I Was Big-Cat. Wanted to Eat Gator

I woke to the taste of blood in my mouth, hot, spicy blood. My heart thumped once,
sounding wrong, sounding mushy. My vision cleared to see Leo over me, his black eyes
fierce, his wrist slashed and bleeding. Into my mouth.

“Vous devez boire, mon amour. Boire, et vivre.”

I had no idea what that meant, but I swallowed. Heat slammed through me. My heart
beat again, sounding strange, broken. But its movement sent that heat into my veins,
into my arteries. I took a breath and could hear the wheeze of blood in my lungs.
I drank. My heart beat again. And again. And picked up speed. I dropped inside my
own mind, into the dark, into the cavernlike place where I took my spirit journeys.
It was . . . different.

And I drank.

The small dark cloud in my soul, the place where Leo had bound me, took strength from
the blood. It rose from its place in my mind, as if alive. As if scenting.

My heart beat. I breathed. The black form of the binding seemed to breathe too. It
solidified, smelling of old papyrus, black pepper, and metal. In the deeps of my mind,
I reached out and touched the black form. It was frozen iron, so cold my fingers burned.
It was solid.
This is not good,
I thought. It opened its eyes and stared at me. This thing was Leo.

I leaped back, away. Landing on the far side of the cavern of my mind.

From the binding, a black chain slithered across the floor of my soul, reaching for
me. The links sounded like scales.

We are not prey!
Beast thought at me. She smashed into me, through my mind, through my heart and lungs,
and into my cells. Her pelt ground against me as if she rolled around inside my skin.
Her claws pierced through my fingertips. “No!” In the real world, I pushed Leo’s wrist
away. I caught sight of my hand. Golden-furred fingers, plump, with knobby knuckles
and extruded claws at the tips.

I rolled away, landing on the floor of Grégoire’s limo. I fell into the gray place
of the change. “No, no, no, no, no—”

The iron chain snapped hard, the sound echoing.

Far into the change, Beast did . . . something. The chain warmed. Silvered. And I
was lost.

* * *

I pawed away from Leo and Bruiser and Rick.
Clawed at them, at the leather of the car. I leaped. Twisted in midair, kicking free
of Jane clothes. Landed. Looked back and met Rick’s eyes. His were golden green. Big-cat
eyes. I snarled at him. At the woman beside him, her eyes wide. Not-human woman named
Soul. Rick’s Soul.

I growled at Bruiser, his mouth open in shock. Hissed at Leo, who was staring, his
fangs down. Good strong predator. Would take him as mate one day. To show my interest,
I swiped at him, drawing blood. Then thrust from them, spiraling in midair, claws
out. Landed in brush. Raced into night.

Hunger tore at me. Side ached, place where Rick gun bit me. Place that nearly killed
me/us. Raced along bayou, scattering geese. Caught one. Crushed neck with snap of
jaws. Dropped it. Caught another. Crushed neck. Leaped out over water, thick tail
spiraling, front claws reaching. Caught neck of flying goose and broke it with single
sling of big-cat claws. Landed in muddy water. Paddled in circle and swam to shore,
carrying goose in killing teeth.
Have three geese. I hunger! Will eat.

I dropped goose and shook pelt, slinging water. Settled to muddy bank and tore into
dead bird. Good greasy bird, crunching bones, swallowing feathers and ugly webbed
feet. Ate entire bird and bit into goose two. Ate it all. And goose three. Lay on
muddy bank, panting. Belly full. Chest aching.

I yawned and licked bloody jaws and thought about Jane. She was not awake, but slept
in mind. Thought about binding of Leo. It slept too, black form curled in corner of
Jane spirit. The form looked like monkey. Monkey-cat. Ugly thing. Had metal chain
that trailed across floor to Jane, asleep on floor of den place in mind. But chain
to Jane was broken. Chain was lying on the floor of mind-den, not touching Jane. Chain
also trailed across floor to Beast.

I snarled. Saw cuff on back leg. Sniffed at cuff. Ugly silver metal. Ugly smell of
Leo and shackling. I growled. I had tried to stop binding during shift to Big-Cat.
Used angel Hayyel power, but was not angel. Was big-cat. But did not work like I expected.
Needed to think about cuff. Needed to think about binding. Long thoughts. Jane thoughts.
Could not understand metal-cuff-binding in spirit den. Not now.

Heard vampires in distance. Pulled away from mind-den, away from dark place in thoughts.
Looked-listened-scented at world outside mind-den. Vampires and werewolf were hunting
Beast. I stood and stretched body, pulling at muscles and sinews. Stretched hard along
spine and chest. Chest should not still hurt. Needed more shifting.

Would think about chain. Later.

I was alpha. I was big-cat. Wanted to eat gator. Wanted to hunt.

Looked out into darkness of night. Was near tree where Beast had ambush-hunted and
killed human and big vampire. Could smell dead human and dead big prey on cool wind.
Dead and dead again. Did not understand twice-dead things. Did not understand things
that were alive and dead. Like Bitsa. Like vampires.

Could smell vampires on wind, hear vampires. Vampires were hunting Beast. Wanted to
go far away from hunters. Wanted to think. I huffed and padded into dark.

At road, I climbed tree and lay on limb hanging over road. Jumped from limb over road
to top of small truck and set claws to metal. Holding on. Truck was like bison, big
and fast and stupid. But truck had no blood and bones. Truck was alive and not alive,
like vampires were alive and not alive. Did not understand truck or vampires. But
truck was moving toward city lights, toward place of Jane-den. Stupid truck turned
away soon, and Beast jumped down to ground. Prowled on before finding other truck
heading toward Jane-den. Changed trucks three more times. Less than five. Was good
number.

In French Quarter, truck stopped at place of sleeping and eating. Hotel, Jane called
it. Jumped from back of truck to street and padded into shadows. I moved through French
Quarter place smelling of many more than five humans and man-food and man-spices and
gasoline and many more than five vampires. Went to Katie’s place. Place where enemy
of Jane had hunted Katie and taken Katie.

Could smell Katie and Derek and other humans inside. Derek had hunted Katie and brought
her back to her den. Derek was good hunter. Wondered if Derek and Katie were mated
now. Katie needed strong mate. But smelled blood. Much blood. Katie was wounded and
drinking from more-than-five humans. Heard sound of pain from Katie-den.

I chuffed. Did not like smell of human blood. Did not like taste of human flesh. Remembered
taste from fight. Jane was right. Should never eat humans. Did not understand vampires—good
hunters who ate humans. I turned and trotted into night.

* * *

I woke in a stinking alley behind a restaurant, lying on the pavement. Next to a wino
so drunk he smelled like a brewery. I crawled to my feet and met his eyes.

“You’re naked, you know.”

“I noticed.”

“I got a blanket I’ll sell you.”

“It isn’t like I have any money on me.”

His eyes gleamed and he showed me broken, brown teeth as he looked me over.

I chuckled softly. “How about this? You loan me your blanket, and I’ll come back with
fifty dollars and a brand-new blanket.”

He thought about that for a good half minute while I shivered. “And a pillow. And
a waterproof tent. A tiny one I can drape over things when it rains.”

I was standing buck naked in an alley at dawn, bargaining with a wino for his flea-infested
blanket. Which was stupid on so many levels. “Whatever it takes to get me the blanket.”
The wino scratched himself and I didn’t look at where or at the sight of his black
fingernails.

“Done.”

“How about I give you a hundred and let you live?” a soft voice said.

I froze. Rick. Who had just shot me. I turned my body at an angle, making a narrower
target. But his hands were empty. His white wolf sat at his side, panting.

Rick saw my reaction and he opened his mouth, breathing in. He went dead-still for
a moment, not breathing now, not doing anything, reading me like a cat might. His
voice went dead, no tonal shifts or flex. “You think I
shot you
? You think
I
shot you?” he exploded. “I’ve been hunting you all night. Thinking that he had killed
you, that you shifted too late and only Beast was left.” Rick ripped his coat off
and threw it at me. I caught it, something heavy banging into my kneecap. “There is
a nine-mil in the right pocket. Take it and shoot me, you crazy bitch.”

I held the coat in front of me, one hand gripping the pocket that held the gun. I
could feel it, warm from his body heat, and it did feel like a nine-mil. I held the
coat in front of me like a shield, but of course if he had another gun and really
wanted me dead, now was the time to fire. He didn’t.

“You told me you had orders to shoot me if I killed a human. I killed a human. Your
hand came up. I was shot. Soooo.”

Rick’s face twisted with some emotion I couldn’t name. “You really think I shot you.”
He lowered his lids and dropped his head to keep me from seeing what might be on his
face. “You killed him in self-defense, not a blood-magic spell or a killing frenzy.”
When I didn’t say anything, he added, “I’m a cop. I’m trained to notice little things
like that.”

“Who shot me?”

“You call him Diablo.”

I let my mind wander back over the last moments of my life, putting two and two together,
and hopefully reaching four. I remembered the humans guarding the remains of de Allyon’s
clan. The Tequila Boys. I remembered Diablo, pounding a downed vamp in the pasture
after the battle, the night that Leo’s clan home burned to the ground. Had he been
putting on a show? Had he agreed to snitch later, in return for something? Drugs?
Women? A place in a vamp’s household and the increased life span that offered? Money?
Money always talks, and most of the time it talks too much.

“Oh,” I said. Sounding totally lame. “Crap.”

Even I—with my limited social skills—knew I had hurt Rick. I could smell the anger
and misery rushing through his veins. See it in his body language, in his expression,
in his eyes that were fading from golden green back to black.

“You really thought I’d shoot you,” he said, the sound raw.

“What about my money?” the wino asked.

Rick tossed him a handful of bills without looking, turned on his heel, and walked
back down the alley. I slid into the coat, warm from his body.

“Star-crossed lovers, is what you two are,” the wino said. “Or maybe he’s right and
you really are a crazy bitch.”

“Yeah,” I said, blowing out a breath. “Right now I’m going with door number two.”

The wolf huffed with what sounded like disgust and showed me his teeth before turning
in a sharp circle and lifting a leg on a Dumpster. He huffed again to make sure I
knew he would rather be peeing on me. He dropped his leg and padded back down the
alley. If a wolf could show disdain, he just had.

“Well, crap,” I muttered.

* * *

The rest of my day just got worse. Bruiser needed me to find and corral the humans
de Allyon’s death had left running around without a master. De Allyon had used a lot
of compulsion on his servants, and when that control disappeared suddenly, there were
a lot of displaced, panicked humans running around, most with some version of PTSD
from being in his service.

Someone had to deal with the CDC about the vamp plague. They had joined in with Leo’s
private lab, working on finding a true cure. Again, me, since PsyLED was a police
agency, not a government health agency. Meanwhile, Rick wrapped up his case and left
New Orleans without a word—Rick, his unit of nonhumans, and his Soul. I watched him
drive off in a new SUV—the kind that looks like a station wagon. It had rental plates,
and somehow it looked . . . domestic. I didn’t let tears pool in my eyes until the
rental pulled around the corner. Then I blinked them away and went back to work. What
else could I do? I worked around the clock with Wrassler and Bruiser and then, all
at once, it was all done. Finished. My job was done.

It was midnight, on the night of the new moon. And I was alone.

I got a job offer two weeks later. It was from the elusive Hieronymus, the Master
of the City of Natchez. Seemed he had a problem with the remnants of de Allyon’s ungovernable
Naturaleza running amok in his city and the nearby hunting territory. He was estimating
there were at least twenty vamps hunting humans, and he wanted them removed. The council
of Mithrans had offered thirty thousand a head—literally—to take them down. I was
thinking about it. A change of scenery sounded like a good idea, and if I took the
Younger boys, it would be a good way to test out this partnership idea. Frankly, I
was surprised that he’d want one of the people who had shot up his town and left it
in disarray to come back, but maybe he felt I needed to clean up my own mess.

I hadn’t heard from Bruiser. Hadn’t heard from Rick, despite the numerous apologies
I’d left on his voice mail. Either I’d hurt him so badly with my accusation and lack
of trust that he’d just walked away—maybe forever—or he was already in the field again
and hadn’t checked voice mail. I could hope it was something simple, though the more
time passed, the less likely it was a voice mail problem. I had told him I loved him
and then accused him of shooting me. Go, me.

My life was sublimely uncomplicated right now. Which could be a good thing. But was
probably not.

I went that night to hunt, deep in bayou country. In the middle of the shift, as the
place of the change took me over, and gray light sparkled with the energies of my
magics, I discovered Beast’s secret. I found the chain that ran from Beast, across
the floor of my soul house to the sleeping form of Leo in the corner of my mind.