True Dead Page 4

  Bruiser and another one of the vamps I sorta recognized stepped to my side, the vamp yanking Monique’s arms back. Bruiser was holding a pair of silver null cuffs, a device developed by law enforcement or the military or maybe witches working for both. The cuffs stopped witch prisoners from generating magical power, making them easy to transport or keep in prisons, and the latches were difficult to remove unless a prisoner could get hands up to them. The cuffs worked on were-creatures and other paras too, or so I heard. Bruiser slapped a pair on Monique’s wrists and twisted a second pair until they formed a headband. He locked them across Monique’s head and then secured her hands with regular handcuffs so she couldn’t get to the latches. She tried to bite the vamp who was restraining her, which for some reason, made me laugh out loud.

  I was still laughing when Thema, Kojo, and Koun escorted me to my SUV, put me in the back seat with Kojo, and Koun drove us away from the approaching sirens. I looked back and saw my banner in the front yard of the massacre scene brought by my enemies. A small voice inside murmured, This will be the legacy of your war. Betrayal. Ambush. Murder. Death. I hadn’t designed the banner, but it was fitting that the banner was a bloodred background centered with a gold laurel-leaf crown, a pale whitish Glob, a feather, and a puma fang.

  “Just freaking ducky,” I said aloud.

  Thema, riding shotgun, swiveled in her seat and stared at me, her black eyes glistening in the dim interior lights. “Your people left you at home in your bed sleeping and went to hunt without you. They did not tell you they were going. They did not allow you to share in the glory of battle. I would behead them for such insults.”

  His voice mild, Koun said, “The Consort explained to me that tonight was supposed to be a simple reconnoiter, to determine if rumors in the Mithran community were correct: that a small group of Melker’s followers had escaped the Dark Queen and were regrouping. The rumors suggested that Melker’s new heir was possibly on the premises. No combat was planned for tonight, solely reconnaissance, though of course, everyone came heavily armed and prepared for battle.”

  “Of course you did,” Thema said. There was a hint of snide in her tone, which made me smile.

  “Who is Melker?” I asked, the name familiar but not tied to a face.

  Koun glanced at me in the rearview. “You called him Legolas. Or Lego.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “Pretty hair. Super-duper dead.”

  Koun’s eyes returned to the road. “While you were changing and shifting, we learned that when your people arrived, they saw a Naturaleza draining and killing a human. Eli intervened. That resulted in combat.”

  “They left you at home,” Thema said to me again, her tone deliberately accusing. “It was an insult to a warrior.”

  Ah. Thema had been left behind too. A warrior not called upon. I squashed down on the anger that wanted to rise. I knew the real reason I hadn’t been invited. My body doing the uncontrolled flip-flop shape-shifting-change thing wasn’t well known. Thema wasn’t included in the small group that was privy to my little problem. The guys and Molly, my witch BFF, were all worried about what would happen if I changed shape in the middle of a battle and what would happen if I shifted too slowly and died. I could practically hear Eli’s pedantic, cool voice in my head. You haven’t died since you were healed. We don’t know what’s happening with your body or your power. You could get people killed trying to protect you.

  And on top of his mental voice came Bruiser’s. You are more than just a rogue-vampire hunter. When you killed the first Son of Darkness, the Flayer of Mithrans came to revenge him and kill you. When the Flayer died, others came to power. This is the way of life among Mithrans and Naturaleza. There is always an Heir. When you became the Dark Queen, you became the most valuable target in the world. You have political value and significance at this moment. You are the only thing keeping the Mithran world in balance. You need to stay alive so we can fight this war. He had laughed then. All that political reality aside, where you go, there I am, Jane. We can run away together and say to hell with all this, or you can stay, can choose war to protect all paranormals and humans. A war that will seldom allow you to fight. But you must choose.

  Eli and Bruiser were both right. I had rushed in to help, probably making things worse by triggering a trap set for Bruiser and me, one that might have ended early had I stayed away. But if I hadn’t come and the trap had been sprung anyway, my people would have been dead. “Well, crap,” I said.

  Koun’s cell phone buzzed. He answered and put the cell to his ear. “Koun.”

  Bruiser’s voice said, “Shaddock bled and read two human blood-servants. There’s another house also being used as a nest, and the important Mithrans are there. Tonight was supposed to be an ambush that drew out and killed the Consort and the MOC of Asheville. And if they were very lucky, also the Dark Queen. With or without you, we would have been attacked by the second wave.”

  In an instant, I put it together. When I became Dark Queen, I promoted Shaddock to master of the city status, and most vamps—any who had never seen him in action—would think that meant the recently upgraded MOC was an easy mark, his territory easy pickings. Shaddock was more than he appeared, but had they succeeded in taking him and Bruiser out . . . that might have destroyed me. The trap was an excellent political ploy for them, a win-win. And then of course, I raced to the scene, giving our enemies all the eggs in one basket. Crap.

  “Someone set this trap,” Koun said, still talking to Bruiser, “and made certain that the intel got back to our people. We have a double agent or spy in our midst.”

  “When don’t we?” I leaned forward and plucked the cell from Koun’s fingers. “Send us the address of the other nest. Send us fighters. We’ll make sure this ends tonight.”

  Bruiser said, “Local law enforcement received a call from the governor of North Carolina, and they ceded control of this site to the Mithrans, pending a state court ruling on Friday. We may not remove any of the dead humans. We may not remove any Mithrans. The State Department has not returned my calls. It appears that the long-expected but hoped-against clash of the United States and the Dark Queen’s Court of Mithrans has begun.”

  I hated politics. And I sucked at the sneaky finesse they required. “Call the governor back and remind them that vamps burn up in daylight, and they’ll take all the other bodies, and the premises, with them. Tell the powers that be to stop being stupid, or I’ll kick their collective asses. Except. More polite.”

  Koun’s shoulders relaxed and my honeybunch chuckled. I’d been fighting political battles from afar for months. Having taken part in a real battle and having the love of my life still with me was the best thing to happen in all that time.

  “I shall endeavor to remind all law enforcement and political powers,” Bruiser said, “that My Queen is most generous with her financial support in all elections and that she has also been generous with Mithran blood to heal their children and their families.”

  “Way more polite,” I said. “Don’t forget the address.” I ended the call. The address popped up on Koun’s screen with the words “Keep her safe.” Good. They were going to let me play, this time without an argument, which meant they probably already knew it was safe, but I could pretend that wasn’t the case. I still needed to hit something.

  Unfortunately when we arrived, there were no vehicles in the drive or the carport. The doors to the house were open to the summer night. Lights blazed through the windows.

  When our party of ten stormed the house, no vamps were present. There was nothing to hit. Just a ransacked house that stank of vamps and old blood.

  Still, we cleared the house carefully and discovered five humans in a back suite. I watched as Koun questioned the one who seemed the most mentally coherent and discovered that they had been unwillingly taken, bled repeatedly, and blood-bound. They were blood-slaves. They knew nothing. All they wanted was a vamp to drink from
. My fists clenched. I needed to punch something. Or someone. Making human blood-slaves was one of many things about vamps that brought me nearly to rage. Most vamps called them cattle. Food. Toys. Under my rule as DQ, humans couldn’t be treated as cattle. Making new blood-slaves was no longer permitted, and though (according to the Vampira Carta of the Americas) I couldn’t outlaw it, I could tax it, and making blood-slaves was now a big financial drain on suckheads.

  A lot of vamps who had sworn to me probably hated that, and if they had made slaves, they hid it well around me and members of my court. Blood-servants were fine. They could contract for and make all the servants they could take care of. Slavery? Nope. No more.

  A few vamp pharma businesses, including Leo’s lab in Texas, had been researching treatments for humans who had been blood-bound, with some success but also with some failures. For now, these slaves could opt for the experimental treatment or be brought over to blood-servant status if a vamp was willing, had the funds to care for them, and could find a job for them.

  I stood in the open garage and dialed Bruiser.

  “My Queen,” he said, a caress and a warning in his voice. Others could still hear us.

  I took a deep breath and blew out my fury and frustration. I breathed in the calm of night and gave him a down-and-dirty debrief.

  Bruiser listened with the intense concentration that had made him the best primo in Mithran lands and the best Consort I could ever have. When I finished, he said, “We’ve learned that the remaining vampires from this nest are among the last powerful vampires from Europe.”

  Formal words and tone. So maybe the chief of police or the sheriff was standing there listening, and he was informing them as much as me. Bruiser continued. “From the information gathered in the bleed-and-read, their plan was to ambush and kill us all, and if they failed in that, to kill as many of your followers as they could, leaving you crippled. Then they would kill and disable local law enforcement, travel to New Orleans, and take over there, while the Dark Queen was rebuilding her court.”

  And grieving my Consort, my brother, and Shaddock. Yeah. Those deaths might have brought me down all by themselves.

  I heard Shaddock’s voice in the background. “My Queen, your position is under threat, about to be usurped.”

  “Yeah, I got it. Those powerful vamps are on the way to New Orleans.”

  “One presumes,” Bruiser said.

  “Just in time to screw up Jodi and Wrassler’s wedding. For which Jodi will kill me.”

  I heard Shaddock laughing as I ended that call to dial the Council Chambers of NOLA. Thankfully Wrassler himself didn’t answer, but one of the original Tequila Boys, the security team put together when I first took over vamp protection there, did.

  “Antifreeze,” I said. “This is Jane.”

  “Yo. Legs. How high you kickin’?”

  “Nobody lets me kick lately,” I complained. Except for tonight. Maybe they knew I needed the release.

  “Yeah, being rich and powerful must suck. Hang on while I curtsy.”

  I had missed this kind of insulting banter. Dear heavens, I had missed it so much. “You guys are rich, dude. I made sure you got an increase in pay. You even got dental and visual plans.”

  “Legs, there’s comfortable with purdy teeth and nice specs, and then there’s rich rich.” Before I could reply, he shouted off the cell. “Hey guys! It’s her majesty, Legs.”

  “Legs!” another guy shouted in the background. I was pretty sure it was Sweaty Bollock. The Tequila Boys were named after tequila cocktails. I had never asked what the ingredients were in a Sweaty Bollock, for fear they might tell me. “When you coming home, girl?” he yelled. “I have a deep and abidin’ need to spar with a royal.”

  I glanced up and spotted Thema watching me, standing in the shadows, vamp-still, silent as the grave. Haha. “I might hurt you,” I said to Antifreeze and Sweaty. “Send you to the hospital for weeks. You’d be out of work, lose your house and car.”

  Antifreeze said, “Come to think of it, we need a long-term care package with an ‘injured on the job’ clause.”

  “Yeah, yeah, take it up with Raisin,” I said, referring to Ernestine, Leo’s very elderly human accountant. “Meantime, we got some big bads on the way.”

  “Girl, when do we not?”

  “Initiate Cowbird Protocol at HQ and all the clan homes.”

  “Roger that, Legs. Hold on.”

  I heard typing and clicking in the background as he activated the security measures based on the real cowbird, which meant a traitor on premises. I said, “Antifreeze, I want additional cameras integrated into the system, even places formerly off-limits. Cameras outside the bedroom doors, cameras showing the entrances to public restrooms. And would you mind letting my housekeeping service know I’ll be home sooner than expected? I’d like to get my house and Yellowrock Clan Home ready for visitors, ASAP.”

  “Already done, Fang Queen. Report: HQ is on high alert with two special units gearing up to roam the halls and grounds. No one has been allowed out alone without a hall pass, just like high school. Other units will be deployed to back up each of the clan homes and outlying properties, including the currently sparsely occupied NOLA Yellowrock Clan Home and your private residence. I’ve sent a message to Wrassler notifying him of your orders, and so he may call you and tell you not to fu—ah, mess up his wedding.”

  I smiled. Tequila Boys were all former military, and their jargon was always military-oriented. And they all knew how I felt about cussing.

  “Perfect. Thank you, Antifreeze. Remind me that I need to include Christmas bonuses come time.”

  “You da best, Legs. Later, woman.” He ended the call.

  Legs. Woman. Fang Queen. Wonderful snark. I had missed it so much.

  Thema was still watching me when I pocketed my cell, the moonlight shining on her dark skin, her eyes narrow with . . . suspicion? Curiosity?

  “What?” I demanded.

  “You have servants to make such calls, yet you make them yourself. You did not demand respect from your underlings. They called you names about your legs.”

  “So?”

  “You are a strange ruler. People with power most often spend their days trying to take more power. They have nothing without the mantle of royalty.”

  “I kinda suck at royalty. And I have my own mantle.” With an index finger, I drew a circle in the air around my furry face.

  “I see this. I could teach you how to be decorous and genteel and royal, but I will not. The lack of propriety suits you. And it makes me laugh.”

  “Yuck it up. Poop will hit the prop soon enough, and no one will be laughing. At least that’s been my experience.”

  “What is this poop prop?”

  I laughed and walked off. I kinda suck at royalty. No kidding.

  * * *

  * * *

  It was nearly dawn when Lincoln Shaddock arrived with three vehicles. His people escorted blood-slaves into two cars and let them snuggle down with vamps. They would share blood, and that would calm the humans’ anxieties, at least for a while. As the sun began to gray the sky, Shaddock took up a position near the front of his own vamp-mobile. They all had super dark tinted windows and heavy armor, toys he needed for the MOC position. He drew two swords and pulled on his power as master of the city. I felt the energies shiver through the ground, a cold wave of danger. “Thema! Kojo!” he shouted. “Attend me!” The power rolled out. A summons.

  The two vamps raced in, popping into place directly in front of him. They both looked shocked to be summoned and compelled, and instantly they drew dueling swords. The two were facing Shaddock, swords up, in a stance that meant impending combat.

  Shaddock vamped out. Fully. Black pupils in scarlet sclera, fangs too long for his actual vamp-age. He was seriously ticked off, his power a frozen sizzle on my exposed skin, like nothin
g I had felt from him before. Thema and Kojo vamped out too. Fast, that immediate instinct-vamping that meant their human selves were lost beneath bloodlust and violence. Both of them were wearing silver earrings, a show of power that they hadn’t paraded since they first came to Asheville.

  “Crap,” I said. I wasn’t a vamp but I could move. I pulled on Beast’s speed and my own skinwalker gifts, and skidded to a stop between the three, my weapons sheathed, arms out to the sides, feet and head moving to keep them all in sight. They spread out around me. No matter how I maneuvered, I had two vamps mostly behind me. Adrenaline shot through me. They began to circle me. Crap. What was going on here? “Easy. Easy there, boys and girls.”

  The smell of vamp was astringent and floral and heated. They stared at one another. No one looked at me. Which was strange enough to prick my predator warning system. Something was about to happen between the three vamps.

  “Get in the cars. Care for the cattle,” Shaddock said to the two vamps. Cattle. I hated that term for humans.

  “We will not,” Thema said.

  Softly, speaking slowly, I said, “I don’t know what this is, but no blood challenges. Not here, not now. And Linc, especially no duels with your guests.” Or whatever they were. They hadn’t sworn to Shaddock, and I didn’t know why. And I hadn’t cared. Until now.

  The master of the city slowly took his predator gaze off his guests and put it on me.

  Koun popped in from the dark. Barreled into the two vamps behind me, sending them flying. He stood at my back, swords drawn. Thema and Kojo dashed back to us, their swords out at Koun. “Do not make me kill you all,” Koun said calmly, as if the possibility of him dying wasn’t on the challenge table. Idiot man would get himself killed fighting against multiple powerful vamps.