Broken Soul: A Jane Yellowrock Novel Read online

  Praise for the Jane Yellowrock Novels

  Black Arts

  “[A] perfect balance of action, relationships, magic, and healing, fans will love it, and new readers will get sucked in.”

  —All Things Urban Fantasy

  “An action packed thriller. . . . Betrayal, deception, and heartbreak all lead the way in this roller-coaster ride of infinite proportions that will keep readers twisting and turning until the very last page.”

  —Smexy Books

  “Hunter’s mastery for writing suspense-filled chapters that keep the reader on pins and needles turning pages shines through. She manages to juggle multiple story lines, letting them touch just enough to give hints of what’s to follow until the story reaches its breathtaking conclusion.”

  —SF Site

  Blood Trade

  “Faith Hunter’s Jane Yellowrock series is a high-octane urban fantasy that follows its own rules and keeps you guessing until the very end.”

  —Smexy Books

  “There is nothing as satisfying as the first time reading a Jane Yellowrock novel.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “With a new twist on vampires and action-packed suspense, Blood Trade takes readers on an exciting ride!”

  —RT Book Reviews

  Death’s Rival

  “Hunter has done it again, delivering a thrilling combination of mystery and romance that will delight her fans.”

  —SF Site

  “A thrilling mystery with epic action scenes and a kick-ass heroine with claws and fangs.”

  —All Things Urban Fantasy

  “Holy moly, this was an amazing read! Jane is the best urban fantasy heroine around. Death’s Rival catapulted this series to the top of my must-buy list.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  “A wild, danger-filled adventure. The world building includes a perfect blend of seductive romance, nail-biting action, intriguing characters, and betrayal from all sides.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  Raven Cursed

  “A lot of series seek to emulate Hunter’s work, but few come close to capturing the essence of urban fantasy: the perfect blend of intriguing heroine, suspense, [and] fantasy with just enough romance.”

  —SF Site

  “Hunter doesn’t disappoint. . . . I say you can’t get enough of one of my favorite kick-ass heroines, so if you are new to the series, give yourself the gift of books one through three. You won’t regret it.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  Mercy Blade

  “Has all the complexity, twists, and surprises readers have come to expect . . . a thrill ride from start to finish. . . . Hunter has an amazing talent for capturing mood.”

  —SF Site

  “There was something about the Jane Yellowrock series that drew me in from the very beginning. . . . Mercy Blade is top-notch, a five-star book!”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  “Faith Hunter has created one of my favorite characters, ever. Jane Yellowrock is full of contradictions . . . highly recommended.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  Blood Cross

  “Readers eager for the next book in Patricia Briggs’s Mercy Thompson series may want to give Faith Hunter a try.”

  —Library Journal

  “In a genre flooded with strong, sexy females, Jane Yellowrock is unique. . . . Her bold first-person narrative shows that she’s one tough cookie but with a likable vulnerability . . . a pulse-pounding, page-turning adventure.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  Skinwalker

  “Seriously. Best urban fantasy I’ve read in years, possibly ever.”

  —C. E. Murphy, author of Truthseeker

  “A fantastic start to the Jane Yellowrock series. Mixing fantasy with a strong mystery story line and a touch of romance, it ticks all the right urban fantasy boxes.”

  —LoveVampires

  “Stunning. . . . Plot and descriptions so vivid, they might as well be pictures or videos. Hunter captures the reader’s attention from the first page and doesn’t let go.”

  —SF Site

  “A fabulous tale with a heroine who clearly has the strength to stand on her own . . . a wonderfully detailed and fast-moving adventure that fills the pages with murder, mystery, and fascinating characters.”

  —Darque Reviews

  More Praise for the Novels of Faith Hunter

  “With fast-paced action and the possibility of more romance, this is an enjoyable read with an alluring magical touch.”

  —Darque Reviews

  “The world [Hunter] has created is unique and bleak . . . [an] exciting science-fiction thriller.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Entertaining . . . outstanding supporting characters. . . . The strong cliff-hanger of an ending bodes well for future adventures.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Hunter’s distinctive future vision offers a fresh though dark glimpse into a newly made postapocalyptic world. Bold and imaginative in approach, with appealing characters and a suspense-filled story, this belongs in most fantasy collections.”

  —Library Journal

  “It’s a pleasure to read this engaging tale about characters connected by strong bonds of friendship and family. Mixes romance, high fantasy, apocalyptic and postapocalyptic adventure to good effect.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Hunter’s very professionally executed, tasty blend of dark fantasy, mystery, and romance should please fans of all three genres.”

  —Booklist

  ALSO BY FAITH HUNTER

  The Jane Yellowrock Novels

  Skinwalker

  Blood Cross

  Mercy Blade

  Cat Tales (a short-story compilation)

  Raven Cursed

  Have Stakes Will Travel (a short-story compilation)

  Death’s Rival

  Blood Trade

  Black Arts

  Black Water (a short story compilation)

  The Rogue Mage Novels

  Bloodring

  Seraphs

  Host

  ROC

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, USA

  USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

  penguin.com

  A Penguin Random House Company

  First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC

  Copyright © Faith Hunter, 2014

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  ISBN 978-1-101-63619-0

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  Contents

  Praise

  Also by FAITH HUNTER

  Title page

  Copyright page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER 1: Half-Dressed Vamp Gave a Come-Hither, Toothy Smile

  CHAPTER 2: It Is Done . . . Factum E
st. Consummatum.

  CHAPTER 3: Boo Stuff

  CHAPTER 4: An Offer to Dish

  CHAPTER 5: I Needed That Head Slap

  CHAPTER 6: Carrying a Vamp Head

  CHAPTER 7: LSD . . . Psilocybin Mushrooms and . . . Tequila

  CHAPTER 8: You Want Me to . . . Wash Your Back?

  CHAPTER 9: It Was a Girly Scream

  CHAPTER 10: HOT Spelled Out Across His Rump

  CHAPTER 11: Testicle Stretchers

  CHAPTER 12: I Haven’t Slept with You Yet

  CHAPTER 13: Who Was That Masked Man?

  CHAPTER 14: Talk to Big Bird

  CHAPTER 15: If Vamps Could Wet Their Pants

  CHAPTER 16: The Plink of Blood Slowed and Stopped

  CHAPTER 17: Deadish Leo on My Floor

  CHAPTER 18: Werewolf Laughter

  CHAPTER 19: Someone Fired. They Fought Back.

  CHAPTER 20: Dance with the Devil

  CHAPTER 21: A Bucket Full of Snakes

  CHAPTER 22: I Am a Far Worse Devil

  CHAPTER 23: The Keeper of the Iron Spike

  CHAPTER 24: I Probably Shouldn’t Trust Me Either

  EPILOGUE: Bound by Oaths of Loyalty

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Bloodring

  To the Hubs, my Renaissance Man,

  for everything you do and are, that makes my life a joy.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Mindy Mymudes for beta reading. For being a font of knowledge. For being a great friend.

  Lee Williams Watts for being the best travel companion and assistant a girl can have!

  Beast Claws! Street Team extraordinaire!

  Jason Gilbert for introducing me to Michael Edgecomb with Summerwood Fencing Academy of Rock Hill, South Carolina.

  Michael Edgecomb for the fencing lesson and introduction to the garb of fencing. (Which I changed some . . . But, hey, it’s for vamps.)

  Mike Prater for all the little questions you answered.

  My mom, Joyce H. Wright, and Lynn Hornsby for being my own personal fan club.

  Let’s Talk Promotions at www.ltpromos.com, for getting me where I am today.

  Lucienne Diver of the Knight Agency. There are not words enough to say in thanks for guiding my career, being an ear when I need advice, and working your fingers to the bone. Thank you so much for everything!

  Isabel Farhi of Ace/Roc for keeping me on time through the copy edits.

  Valle Hansen for wonderful help (and polite queries) on the CE of Broken Soul.

  Cliff Nielsen for all the work and talent that goes into the covers. I have to say—this is the BEST one yet.

  Jessica Wade of Penguin/Roc. The best editor I could have. You make me into a much better writer than I ever would have been alone. I don’t know how you keep the high quality up, book after book, especially now, with the Kicker kicking things around. Thank you.

  CHAPTER 1

  Half-Dressed Vamp Gave a Come-Hither, Toothy Smile

  Visiting the Master of the City of New Orleans was always challenging, but it was worse when he was in a mood. Leo Pellissier’s Clan Home and personal residence had burned to the ground not so very long ago, and the rebuilding was taking longer than he thought he should have to wait. Combined with the accidental media release of the upcoming arrival of a delegation of the European Mithrans—fangheads of state to the rest of us—and making the arrangements to house and feed his unwanted guests according to their usual kingly standards, his patience was wearing thin. Any equanimity he might have feigned to was long gone.

  His Regal Grumpiness had demanded my presence. Yeah. I had called him that—from a safe distance, on my official, military-grade, bullet-resistant cell phone. I’m brave and all, but I’m not stupid.

  I parked the SUV I had been driving lately—one of the MOC’s, a heavily armored gas guzzler fitted with laminated polycarbonate glass, the stuff often called bulletproof glass—in front of the Mithran Council Chambers and ascended the stairs, checking over the changes in the building’s security arrangements. The razor wire on the brick fence around the property in the French Quarter had caused quite a stir, various injunctions, and political posturing, but New Orleans’ Vieux Carré Commission had caved when it was pointed out to them that Leo was currently, technically, something like a head of state or maybe a Mithran ambassador, and the property was, therefore, currently, technically, not quite U.S. territory. The political relationships between the Secret Service, the Treasury Department, the United States legal system, and the vamps were murky. Congress was still debating fanghead status and whether to declare them citizens or something else. I was betting on something else as the most likely outcome. It would be cheaper than rewriting the laws to include penalties for human blood-drinking; nearly immortal vampires, who were deathly allergic to sunlight, were strong enough to tear out iron bars, fast enough to be difficult to spot on standard security cameras, and had the ability to use their stalking compulsion and their blood to enslave humans and make them want to do stuff. Like let them walk free one night from any high-security prison. It was cheaper to consider them some form of noncitizen and therefore not subject to all U.S. laws.

  I was in the middle of upgrading the security of the council house from an embassy-security precaution level to White House–security precaution level to provide super-duper protection during the EVs’ upcoming shindig. Hence the razor wire; the increased number of dynamic cameras all over, with low-light and infrared capability; the new, top-of-the-line automatic backup generators in case of power failure; the new automatic muted lighting that was being installed along all the hallways inside; the replacement of the decorative iron-barred gate in the brick fence with an ugly, layered-iron gate that weighed a ton and could resist a dump truck filled with explosives. Just for starters. The measures I had instituted were not Draconian but they were more stringent than the historical society liked on the outside and that the vamps themselves liked on the inside. All this for the visitation that no one wanted but no one could refuse. Not even the American vamps themselves.

  A lot of ordinary humans in the U.S. were unhappy about the planned—but as yet unscheduled—visit by European vampires too, and there had been death threats made against the undead, mostly by extreme right-wing religious hate groups, neo-Nazis, fascist groups, one ultraliberal group, and several homegrown jihadist groups. No one was surprised at the reactions, but security preps had to include explosive, bacterial, and chemical attacks—as in weapons of mass destruction—and electronic attack. Even the State Department was getting in on it all.

  But maybe odder than anything was the question that my team at Yellowrock Securities were all asking. Why did the European vamps want to come here anyway?

  As the head of YS and one of Leo’s current part-time Enforcers, it was my job to see that the Mithran Council Chambers—aka vamp HQ, aka vamp central—was secure. Go, me. His Enforcer-in-training, Derek Lee, was helping and learning the ropes, even as he was trying to adjust to being an occasional dinner for Leo. Submitting didn’t come easy to any former active-duty marine, but several things had persuaded Derek: money; he’d get to kill vamps; he’d get to play with all the toys Uncle Sam and Sam’s R & D department came up with; his men would have constant employment. But there was something bigger too. Derek’s mother had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer, and Leo had agreed to feed her his blood to help her heal. Family was more important than pride to Derek. More important than anything else.

  It was an uneasy alliance just yet, made worse when Derek’s men had razzed him about the new job as Enforcer requiring him to provide blood-meals for Leo. But the men were settling in as semipermanent security, and most of them had found a vamp to feed. Vamps were hard to resist when they turned on the charm and the compulsion, and even marines had their limits when a gorgeous, half-dressed vamp gave a come-hither, toothy smile.

  I went through the security precautions at the council house door, relinquished my weapons, and was led through
the building by Wrassler to Leo, who was clearly not in his office, since we went down the elevator, not up the stairs. I’d known Wrassler long enough to expect an honest answer when I asked, “How’s Leo?”

  Wrassler—nicknamed so because he would make a professional wrestler look puny—rubbed a hand over his pate. It needed a shave, and his palm made a rasping sound on the bristles. “He broke a lamp after you hung up on him.” I laughed and Wrassler added, his tone mild, “An original Tiffany worth over thirty thousand dollars.”

  I stopped laughing. “Ouch.”

  “Mmmm. His Mercy Blade was out of touch for an hour, and Leo needed to blow off some steam without killing anybody, so I invited Brian and Brandon to spar with him. Thanks to them, you’ll get to sit this one out and watch, rather than fight him when he’s annoyed.” Wrassler looked down at me from his several inches of additional height and said, “It ain’t pretty.”

  And it wasn’t. The hot smell of sweat and blood hit me when I entered the small gymnasium with its fighting rings, and my Beast perked up at the scent, interested. Brian and Brandon were Onorios, two of three in the entire U.S. They were faster than humans, had better healing abilities than humans, and probably had other mad skills and abilities that I didn’t know about yet. The rarity meant that few people knew what they were truly capable of or what their full abilities were. But it sure wasn’t besting a ticked-off master vamp in full-on kill mode.

  Leo was barefooted, wearing black gi pants of a style I’d seen him fight in before, his upper body bare and smeared with blood that hid most of his white scars, his black hair plaited flat to his head except for loose strands flying as he moved. He was vamped out, his three-inch-long fangs clicked down and his pupils black in scarlet sclera. Despite the vampy-ness, he looked in control. Barely. Drawing on my skinwalker abilities, I took a sniff to determine the pheromone level of his anger and aggression.

  One of the twins was out, lying off the fighting mat, his chest rising and falling, so still alive. The other twin was in play, but his face looked like it’d been used as a punching bag. Which it had been. There was blood all over his white gi, the cloth hiding bruises and torn flesh between the fang rents. The sounds of thuds and slaps and grunts resounded on the air, echoing brightly through the open space. The standing twin spun away and hit the wall. I felt the impact through the floor and my Lucchese boot soles. He slid down the wall, leaving a bloody smear on the painted cement block.