Fire Baptized (11 page)

I nodded. “Tell me.”

“Ray was sacrificed to Obatala, since he was painted white.” He stood up from the bed. “I was wondering why there was so much sage in the hallway. Sage inspires wisdom and he’s the god of wisdom.”

“I don’t remember any sage.” I wrote down what he’d said.

“Probably because of the blood and corpse head.” He walked over to me and pulled the pen out of my hand. “Give these details to Zulu and then leave it alone. The rest of the week you stay in the apartment with me. We can do movie nights with Ben.”

“Maybe one night.”

“That wasn’t an option.” He leaned toward me as if I was supposed to cower in fear. “Every night, until this psycho is found. And you let me take you to my priest.”

“Don’t start that again. I don’t do religion.”

He blew out air, drew me into a hug. “You should believe in something. In times of need, who will you call?”

“I’ll call fire, and if that doesn’t work, then I’ll call you,” I said as he rested his chin on the top of my head.

Silence filled the air.

I left the comfort of his arms and checked my watch. Zulu would be here in a few minutes. Luckily, all I needed to do was put on my heels and maybe check my makeup again. The last time I wore it, I was going to the prom with MeShack. I hoped I’d done it right.

I thought about everything MeShack had said.
Sacrifices to the gods?
Is that why the murderer didn’t kill me? He was too set on fulfilling his mission?

“You’ll be with the Rebels all night?” MeShack asked.

“Yes.”

“And then you’ll come straight to my performance?”

“Yes.”

A knock came from my bedroom door.

“Come in,” I yelled.

“Miss Vesta?” One of the Rebels peeked his black, fur-covered face into my room. Leopard eyes peered at me. “Zulu born, mon. Him feet on your castle.”

“Thanks.”

The Rebel closed the door without another word.

“What the fuck did he just say?” MeShack rolled his eyes.

“Zulu is here and he’s downstairs.”

“Well then, sound the royal trumpets!” MeShack yelled.

I showed him my middle finger and strolled out the door.

The Blood Harvest Festival had just started. Scarlet light bathed us as we entered the ballroom. Thousands of spelled crystals encased with dragonfire hung over our heads. The sweet perfume of jasmine flowers assaulted my senses and floated from vases accented with rubies and full of the flowers.

I was glad Zulu had delivered the gown to me. Women wore diamond necklaces and evening dresses made from satins and silks. They sashayed around with an air of sophistication as an orchestra played smooth melodies.

Zulu stood on my right, messing with his necktie for the tenth time, clearly miserable in his tuxedo.

Poor boy.

But I had to admit he looked stunning. The tuxedo perfectly showcased his broad shoulders and muscular build. His dreadlocks were pulled back in a ponytail.

He looked at me as I slowly rocked my head to the violin’s melody. “Do you want to dance?”

I was surprised he’d asked. He’d been quiet the whole car ride to the festival, and barely uttered three words since we arrived. I knew he was mourning Ray, so I left him to his thoughts.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“I’m not sure of many things tonight, but holding you while we dance is one of them.” His lips curled at the corners of his mouth. He gently took my hand and guided me toward the dance floor. “You’ve been staring at those Mermaids for an hour now.”

I laughed, directing my attention to the fifty-foot aquarium at the center of the dance floor. I’d counted twenty Mermaids and four Mermen swimming around in the tank. We strolled toward them until we were a foot from the glass. Excitement bounced inside of me.
Mermaids!
I grinned so hard pain bit at my cheeks.

A brunette Mermaid waved her pale hand at me. Rubies covered her breasts. Her bluish-green tail slowly fluttered as she treaded water.

I waved back, wanting to jump in there, swim with her, and ask her a hundred questions. I’d never seen real Merfolk. None existed in Santeria.

Earlier, I’d heard a Vamp telling her date that the Bottelli family had borrowed the Merfolk from a Human Texas billionaire, who collected exotic pets. Disgust at the Human had spread all over me, thinking of the Merfolk confined, forever, to a glass cage in some Human’s mansion.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Zulu pulled me closer to him, his dark blue eyes piercing me and warming me to the core. We swayed with the orchestra’s seductive rhythm.

I put my hands on his shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. Sandalwood floated from his skin. I licked my lips, wishing I could bury my face in his neck.

A wide smile spread across his face as if he could sense my desire.

“How are you?” I asked. “I know it must be hard dealing with Ray’s death.”

“He’s in the Fairy realm now.” Zulu shrugged. “I’m content.”

“You believe that?”

“There are only two ways for Fairies to return to the realm. Death is one of them.” He flashed a gorgeous smile that made me bite my lip. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s a fact. You know I’m not a believer in myths.”

“Well then, it’s good that Ray is home,” I replied, hoping Zulu was correct and that one day, Ray’s little girl would be reunited with her daddy. Maybe I would even meet my mom. “Well, if you ever need to talk, I’m here. You seemed on edge tonight. I worry about you.”

He avoided my eyes, glancing at the aquarium. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Have you and MeShack gotten back together?”

I jerked back in surprise.
Why would he think that?

Shaking my head, I said, “No.”

“He marked you. His scent is all over your hair and skin.”

Damn it, MeShack.
The smell wouldn’t fade for several weeks. His claws had been extended when I was getting dressed. He must have taken that opportunity to rub the Shifter oil all over my hair.

I shouldn’t have even been surprised. MeShack was possessive and considered me his exclusive property. I needed to sit down and talk to MeShack and set more boundaries between us. Clearly, last night’s events had given him the impression that he had another chance.

Bad move, Lanore.
There’d be no more kissing or anything else in the future.

“Why did he mark you?” Zulu asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“The killer is a Shifter. MeShack smelled it on Ray.”

Zulu nodded. “The Rebels reported the same thing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I pulled back a little.

“Because I want you as far away from this sick bastard as possible,” he insisted. The flecks of blue in his eyes lightened.

Wanting to change the subject, I smirked. “So, you can smell MeShack on me. Which means you’re half Fairy and half Shifter? Am I right?”

He rolled his eyes and nodded.

When Shifters marked someone, it told other Shifters to
Beware or Be Killed
. Only a Shifter could sense the mark.

“You’ve solved the great mystery,” Zulu snorted.

I thought about last night and the large black being he’d become. My mouth dropped open in shock. “That was your beast form, last night?”

“Yes.” His body stiffened under me. He stopped dancing. “Let’s grab something to eat. I have a feeling you’re going to assault me with questions for the next hour.”

We strolled to the closest balcony, stepping out on it.

The moonlight peeked through the habitat’s ceiling and beamed down on us. A cool breeze brushed against my skin. Supes talked and ate hors d’oeuvres. Ice sculptures of Santeria gods sat in fountains of blood. I could still hear the orchestra as the scent of jasmine wafted out into the night air.

A redheaded Mixie wearing a crimson leotard held a tray. She glanced at us, looked at our brands, and then flashed us a huge smile as she came our way. “Would you like to try a torpedo?”

“Thank you.” I picked up the small black ball from the tray and popped it into my mouth. Chocolate and brandy exploded on my tongue.
A perfect mixture.
I grabbed two more.

The Mixie giggled, looked around, and then leaned in. “These Vamps sure know how to party, right?”

“Definitely,” I said and then noticed the copper collar around her pale neck.

A small letter B hung from the center. She was Vamp-owned. The B was probably for the Bottelli family.
How many years will she be their all-purpose slave
? The atmosphere’s dreamy vibe disappeared.

With Purebloods filling most jobs and the lack of access to resources, being Vamp-owned was a path more Mixies were taking. It was voluntary slavery. A Mixie signed up for a certain amount of years of service to a Vamp family, and then at the end of service, they received a lump sum. The problem was, most Mixies never made it to the end.

She observed me staring at her collar and shrugged. “It’s not that bad. Three meals a day, room and board, plus I get Sundays off to do whatever I want.”

“How many years do you have to serve them?” Zulu asked.

“Twenty,” she muttered under her breath.

She would be free in twenty years.

If she even lived that long.

The last torpedo went down my throat like a hard rock. It took all of my energy to not burn that collar off her neck and help her escape. I looked her straight in the eyes. “If you ever need anything—money, food, a friend, or even help to escape—contact me.”

I glanced back at Zulu. “Do you have
MFE
’s card?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” She giggled. “I know how to get in touch. After all, hope is in the air.”

“It sure is,” Zulu said.

She winked and strolled away before I could stop her.

“What the hell did that mean?” I asked.

Ignoring me, he put his hands in his pockets. “My beast form is a Prime. The animal only exists in the Fairy realm.”

“What?” I said, wondering if he was intentionally trying to change the subject.

“My father was a Fairy prince. He used to boast that he was fifty seats from inheriting the throne.”

Zulu was finally telling me his secrets. I let the Mixie’s comment about hope go, and directed my attention to him.

Another Mixie covered in a white body leotard approached us, holding a tray full of champagne. I grabbed one.

Zulu didn’t drink alcohol, so he waved her away. “My mother is Fiona Price.”

I spat the champagne out. Drops fell on my chest and the gown. The Mixie with the champagne dabbed my wet cleavage with napkins.

“Oh, no. I got it.” I tried to stop her. “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble,” she said. “You both are my heroes. Hope is in the air.”

“Yes, it is,” Zulu said.

“Excuse me, why did you say that?” I asked, but she walked away. I focused on Zulu. “Okay, what’s going on?”

He scrunched his face up in mock confusion.

“Zulu, don’t pretend like you don’t know what they’re saying.”

“You’re just volunteering your time with
MFE
, right? If you want more information, then be my number two.”

“Whatever.” I gave up and thought back to what he’d said to make me spit out my champagne.

His mother was Fiona Price, a Were-tiger. When her husband, the mayor, won his race, she’d been asked about Mixie rights and replied, “I firmly believe that the best thing a pregnant Mixie can do for the world is get an abortion.”

“So, Mrs. Mixie Basher is your mom, and she was with your dad before she married Mayor Price?”

“Yes. Ray said my parents were in love.” He stopped a Mixie carrying a tray of lobster tails rolled in bacon, grabbed two, and handed one to me. “When she was pregnant, they assumed I would be a Mixie with some strength, nothing too serious. They didn’t understand how Fairy blood worked.”

He paused for a second, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to go on. “On my birthday, I clawed my way out of her womb, in beast form. She almost died. The midwife didn’t know what animal I was. My mom was scared and told her to kill me, but my father stopped the midwife. It all went downhill from there.”

“So . . . where is your dad?”

“In the Fairy realm.” Zulu lifted his head and gazed toward the habitat’s ceiling. “I killed my first Supe when I was five. I just shifted and ate my classmate, a little girl. By then, my mother had left us.”

“I’m so sorry.” I placed my hand on his arm.

“I had no control. The Prime would shift at his will. The day after I killed, my father homeschooled me and spent the next five years researching possible solutions.” Zulu pulled up one sleeve on his tuxedo jacket, exposing the multicolored cords sewed into his arm. “This was the answer—a complex spell that kept my beast inside and gave me the power to control him when I decided to shift.”

I touched the cords. They pulsed under my fingertips as if each one had a heartbeat. I slid my hand up a yellow cord, and it glowed. “I always thought they were just for show.”

“That’s what everybody thinks. It’s why I opened up The Inked Guerilla tattoo shop, to keep that image going.” He gazed at me. “The spell required a high amount of essence. My dad sacrificed his life for me.”

Sadness seeped into my heart.

“Ray helped him do the spell,” Zulu said. “My father died, and then the cords and my jeweled wings appeared.”

He stopped talking and stared at something behind me.

I turned and saw a tall Vamp heading our way. I’d seen his face before, on
TV
and in magazines.
Dante Bottelli.
He was the head of the Bottelli Family, and the top suspect in hundreds of unsolved cases during the Pre-Habitat years.

Dante had a tan complexion, chestnut brown curls, and pale green eyes. He was the typical sexy Vamp. But what made his face noteworthy was the large, black scar that covered his left eye and shaped in a cross. It began at his forehead and ended at his cheek, giving him an exotic twist.

No one knew the origin of the scars, but there were different stories all over the habitat. Even Humans had written books about his scar, discussing various theories.

Dante was only a few feet away. He slowly walked toward us and flashed me a smile, revealing two large fangs enclosed in gold.

“Welcome. I’m glad you both accepted my invitation.
MFE
is definitely an organization to watch,” he said, his voice humming with sex. “It was reported last week that there are five Mixbreeds to each Pureblood in Santeria.”

“Interesting.” Zulu stepped to my side and placed his arm around my back.

“With those numbers, Purebloods should tread more carefully when dealing with Mixbreeds.” Dante gazed at me. “Don’t you think?”

“Yes.” I forced a smile, unsure of how to proceed with him.

“And what are the Vampires’ positions on Mixie rights?” Zulu asked.

Dante continued to stare at me. “I don’t know about all Vampires, but the Bottelli Family wants
MFE
to accomplish its goals, as long as they’re willing to fight for ours.”