Black Arts (Jane Yellowrock #7)

Black Arts (Jane Yellowrock #7) Page 40

“Copy,” I said.

Escorting her was the mystery man, Shoffru. He was swarthy-skinned for a vamp, his dark hair loose and shoulder length, curling toward his chin, like the finger of beard that defined his jaw. He was wearing a tuxedo, the suit, shirt, and cummerbund all midnight black, and his tie and shirt were both undone and hanging loose to reveal his chest and the thick black hair matted there. He was strong, athletic, and walked with a hip-rolling swagger that looked like trouble. He also looked as if he’d been drinking, and maybe he had been, vamp-style, on lots of blood. His dossier hadn’t said anything about his lifestyle in the last hundred years, but he acted like a Naturaleza, well muscled and aggressive. And he was wearing gold earrings, thick, inch-diameter hoops that looked old and heavy, like booty he might have taken from a plundered ship. Last, and really weird, was the lizard on his shoulder. It was a bright green with darker green stripes down its sides, and its snout was up, tongue flicking as it took in the room. I had read about the lizard, named Longfellow, but hadn’t expected to see it at a formal occasion.

Shoffru stopped in the entrance, taking in the room as if measuring it for carpet. Or as if imagining himself as owner. Proprietary. That was Jack. Oh yeah. Trouble in a Tux, with lizard. Should be a drink name.

Fanning out around the couple were vamps and humans. Lots of vamps and humans, including a woman who looked like a pirate herself, her face and ears studded and beringed, a sword hanging low on her hips. Why was she carrying a sword? No one but Pellissier security had been allowed weapons. But the thought evaporated. The woman was Jack’s heir, I deduced, from her position beside him. I blinked and the vision of the woman drifted to the side. Something seemed important about her, but I couldn’t figure what. She slid from my mind as insignificant, irrelevant. Shoffru had brought in maybe thirty of his people, all of them wearing black, encircling Adrianna like a rose delivered in a black velvet box.

I remembered the buses, chartered in Galveston, and had a mental image of pale faces peering out the windows at New Orleans, like fanghead tourists. The reek of unknown vamp filled the room, sharp and biting, and I bit my cheek to keep from sneezing at the commingled, acrid stench. When I could talk, I said, “So the invitation got them all through security, and the invite means we can’t shoot or stake them here.” Gee made a little “Mmmm” of agreement, and I tapped my mic, giving me a private line to Angel Tit. “You seeing this?”

“Yeah. You want it broadcast?”

“Yes.” I tapped again and said, “Everyone check your cells. The woman with the pirate-looking dude is Adrianna, the vamp Leo is hunting. For now, she has what amounts to diplomatic immunity and is to be treated with absolute deference, unless she starts trouble.” I thought for a moment, working it through. “With all the backup Shoffru brought, things could get dicey if she vamps out, especially with so many humans around, so everyone keep cool. In the event of trouble, hold fire, I repeat, hold fire, unless I give the word, and even then make sure you have only vamps in your sights.

“Wrassler, make sure Leo is informed of all this. Derek, send three more of your people into the hallway. Switch to infrared or low-light opticals as needed, should the lights go out,” I said. The instructions on tactics were totally unnecessary—Derek’s guys knew their business—but the human blood-servants who were working security might not be as well trained. Plus, I wanted it on tape, recorded, just in case the poop hit the prop. “Those with no low-light gear, hit the deck if the lights go out so the line of fire is free.” That got me some insulted looks from the regular HQ security staff, but I ignored them.

“Copy,” Wrassler said into my earpiece. “Copy,” Derek echoed.

I tapped off my mic, not wanting what I had to say next to be heard. “Gee. Nothing says we can’t follow them when they leave and take them then.”

“True. If opportunity presents itself, I will follow them. They bear watching.”

“I have a feeling they bear killing, but staking Shoffru isn’t my call.”

From across the room, Jodi strode toward me, her gait strong, her skirt trapped between her legs, the outfit not made for a determined stride. “Jane, why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Jodi asked, reaching my side.

“Because you’re a cop and this has problem written all over it?” I asked.

She slid a hand into a slit in her skirt and I knew she was readying her service weapon. “Yeah, well, when the dust settles, remind me that we need to chat. You can buy me that beer.”

I nodded, and Gee said, “Our PsyLED guest may be less wise than you, Detective.”

Rick was walking directly toward the couple who still stood framed in the decorative doorway, and moving with his cat’s grace, he swept three champagne flutes off a waiter’s tray. Jodi cursed. Without appearing to hurry, Rick quickly reached the arched opening and presented the couple with two of the glasses. They chatted, Rick’s body language seeming jovial and introductory, and he lifted his glass, almost appearing to toast them. They responded in kind, all sipping, all smiles. And I had to wonder what game Ricky Bo was playing. But the tension the two newcomers were radiating did seem to decrease.

“Pellissier on the move,” came through my ear wire. Leo was on his way down. Through Beast’s binding, I felt the MOC’s fury and his speed.

“Oh, crap,” I said to Wrassler in the mic. He grunted. Beside me, Gee put his hand to his hip, and I realized he was holding the hilt of a long sword, one I hadn’t noticed until now. I hated it when the people around me used magic to hide stuff. It seemed like cheating and the little girl in me wanted to shout, No fair! I evaluated the sword in an eyeblink. The blade was plain, a deep blued steel, but the quillon, écusson, and guard were etched sterling over steel in fleur-de-lis, leaves, and vines, and the pommel was a silver-gray stone that flashed blue with the light. The sword had a sheen of magic about it, as if it had special powers or something. A magical sword in the hands of a glamoured bird-creature. My life was so freaking weird.

As if they had heard that Leo was heading down—and maybe Shoffru’s ears were that good, what did I know?—the pirate and Adrianna moved from the doorway into the ballroom, Rick keeping pace. My boyfriend-of-sorts glanced at me once and then back to Shoffru, his body moving like that of a cat intent on interesting prey.

Gee eased the fancy blade out partway and leaned in, sniffing as the vamp scent grew. Softly, for my ears only, he whispered, “Fee-fi-fo-fum. I smell the blood of a witchy one. Dark magics. Blood magics. Black arts all.”

CHAPTER 15

Toss the Dress Away

He was right. Buried beneath the scent of vamp and human and blood-meals was the prickly odor of witch magic, indicative of a witch using magic or of a magical implement—a device charmed by a witch—being drawn upon. I thought about the blurring magic of a charm meant to elude a camera, and of V. Sunrise down, and I drew on Beast. She padded forward, peering through my eyes, lending me her vision. A bright mist seemed to cover the two vamps, a dark rose fog of a magical keep-away field. The energies didn’t look or smell familiar to me, shaped by an unknown witch. But I did get a hint of cedar and sharp green, so maybe a vamp carried a charm made by an earth practitioner who had drawn on her own blood for a spell, and then added the blood of something else, maybe a small rabbit or large rodent. It felt vaguely like a keep-away spell, but with a dark, magical twist that made me feel itchy all over. There were hints of other magics in the room, other charms, but only the charms on these two seemed important.

To my left, Leo appeared in the house entrance with dual micropops in the air. Katie, his heir, stood behind him, her dark teal skirts billowing in the wind of their vamp-fast passage. Every person in the room turned to them, assessing the two in light of the many across the way. A tingle of Leo’s power spread through the room, Leo’s alone, not the power he could draw from the gathered, and Jack smiled, his lips closed, and slid his arm around Adrianna. The two looked cozy. If they were aligned, and especially if they were sharing blood and sleeping together, then Adrianna would have told him everything she knew about Leo, including Leo’s ability to draw from the clans, making our little beat-the-crap-out-of-Leo scene an interesting but futile exhibition. And if she had switched alliances, then where did that leave Clan Arceneau? In the hands of the shaking panicked vamp standing in the corner, struggling to not vamp out, staring at her superior in stunned horror, surrounded by silent blood-servants. I saw someone I recognized, but couldn’t place, move up beside the shaking fanghead and slide a solicitous arm around her. Brown hair. Familiar. Nothing dangerous about her. I looked back at the action.

The overhead speakers announced the arrival. “Leonard Eugène Zacharie Pellissier, blood-master of the southeastern United States, possessor of all territories and keeper of the hunting license of every Mithran below the Mason-Dixon Line, from the eastern border of Texas at the Sabine River, east to the Atlantic and south to the Gulf, with the exception of Florida. And on his arm, heir to Clan Pellissier, Katherine Louisa Dupre.”

Leo’s power rose higher, and I understood that by appearing as only two, Leo and Katie were giving a show of force of their own, all vamp power, and not just all vamp bodies, as Shoffru had done. The impression was that the two of them could take on the whole room, if they cared to do so. Leo’s and Katie’s blended scents seemed to whisper as they wove together and filled the space, and Shoffru’s smile went stiff. Beast felt the pull on the binding, and my insides tightened.

Behind Leo, and late, stepped two humans—only two—Del and Troll, their primos. The humans looked cool, calm, and collected, though they must have dashed like mad to get here so fast.

Katie placed her fingertips on Leo’s arm, and the Pellissier four moved across the room, so perfectly in sync it could have been choreographed. Through Beast’s binding, I felt Leo directing his escort, and felt an urge to join them, to make my footsteps fall into rhythm with theirs.