Black Arts (Jane Yellowrock #7)

Black Arts (Jane Yellowrock #7) Page 56

I had never seen Katie do that for anyone. Katie’s blood was special, composed as it was now of the blood of eight clans, and I had to wonder why the old, cagey vamp would be so generous, until she turned her teal green eyes to me and asked, “Do you claim this one?”

I hesitated, knowing that either way I answered, I wouldn’t like the result. I nodded and Katie smiled, showing her fangs. I almost backed up a step at her expression but stopped myself in time. Katie said, “My master insisted that I offer apologies to you for the blood I forced.”

Instantly I was on the cold floor in the warehouse, Katie’s fangs buried in my flesh, pain like lightning shooting through me, hearing Big Evan’s niece slurping my landlady’s cold blood. I lifted my chin, waiting, knowing that she could hear my heartbeat suddenly racing.

“My blood is valuable,” she said, “far more than yours. We are now as blood equals, owing each other nothing.”

I thought about that, about agreeing with her, wondering if that meant I, and the people who looked to me for protection, would still be safe from her. I said, “I agree to . . . not kill or injure you or yours? And you agree to not kill or injure me or mine? And I get to keep the house.”

Katie narrowed her eyes before it hit me what I had just asked. I had meant that I would get to keep my rent-free status on the house, but it came out different. And it suggested that my blood was worth as much as her own. Maybe even more. Very carefully, I didn’t move as Katie’s eyes slowly bled to black. With her fangs down, she was fully vamped-out. However, when she spoke, her voice was even and without inflection. “Agreed. I will have the papers sent over to you via messenger. Taxes and insurance are due. Pay them.”

I gave a minuscule nod. I had just accidentally outbargained a powerful vamp for a house. And won. Go, me. But maybe it was smart to not acknowledge that win for fear it would sound gloating. Carefully I said, “We are even.”

As I spoke, Shiloh slid to the floor in a boneless glide that ended with a muted thump of her head on the thick rug. She was grinning and rosy-cheeked, a tiny drop of cherry red blood on her lips. Drunkenly, she licked it away. “I will keep the girl alive,” Katie said, “for three days. On the third day, if you have not ended the death spell that is draining her, she will die. I will also care for and respect the blood-servant tie between the Mithran you claim and her new blood-servants.” She looked at Bliss and Rachael. “I will not treat with them as traitors to my household but as former employees who have found a new master. You are released from my service.”

It was a better bargain than I expected, and it gave a place of safety and service to Bliss and Rachael. It also made me wonder about the value of my skinwalker blood, but I knew better than to ask. “Done. Eli, Evan, we need to go now.”

And then the doors blew off the house.

I leaped for the front entry. The windows smashed in, glass shattering everywhere. My ears popped as the pressure changed, midleap. Wind blew through, whirling and smashing things to the floor. Batting me out of the air like a fist to the gut as my leap took me clear across the entry to protect the humans and the vamps.

Magic ripped across me, scoring like knives, stinking of burned sage and scorched human hair. The lights went out. It was as dark as it had been in Shiloh’s lair, and as I watched through the open door, lights all down the street popped and went out. I knew, somehow, that Jack Shoffru’s magic interfered with electricity, which was how he cast such great don’t-see-me spells and charms while in Leo’s headquarters. A weird silence settled over the French Quarter as the lights continued to go dark. I stepped for the open door, the M4 in one hand, the stock between my elbow and my body, held close, a vamp-killer in the other hand.

Talons and fangs out, Katie raced past and I caught her with the shotgun, swinging her by the waist back toward the office. “Stay put,” I whispered. “Keep them safe.”

Wind ripped through the house without warning, battering me back into the office, as if the air itself knew where its prey was. I shouted over the roar as I rolled the sofa over the humans and bent my own body back to a crouch.

The wind stilled to nothing again. In the distance, I heard sirens. I drew on Beast’s night vision. The house looked silver, black, and gray, with hints of green. I didn’t see Molly’s niece anywhere. I smelled blood—human and vamp. And my own. Flying glass had ripped into me, right arm and thigh. Probably face. Worries for later. I said, “Eli?”

“At your two,” he said softly. I oriented him at my right to the side of the front door. “Company,” he said softly. “I count three. Two vamps, one human.” To know that, he was using his low-light monocular. Vamps moved faster than humans, often with a herky-jerky rhythm when they thought they were unseen, and it was easier than they thought to pick them out with modern technology.

I heard them, moving fast, knowing that it was one of my enemies. “Eenie, meenie, miney, mo,” I muttered, readjusting my grip on the vamp-killer.

On the wind, I smelled Molly’s magic, cued by fear and by addiction. My body tightened. “Evan. Play that disruptive melody. Now!”

A blast hit the house again. It wasn’t the magic of an air witch. It was something else, something darker and bloodier, icy air and heated magic, smelling of sage and burned hair. Candles in the office lit, brightening the room. So did the gas logs in the parlor, a whoosh before everything went dark again. Eli cursed and I knew he had lost his low-light vision in the burst of light. The air went still. Evan began to play.

I heard the sound of footsteps. They were inside. This was not good.

I said, as conversationally as I could manage, “The Enforcer of New Orleans is on the premises.” Which was so not scary. “Withdraw. Or suffer the consequences,” I added. Could I do a hot C-grade movie line or what?

In the office the melody became discordant, a flute played by an air witch with a gift for undoing spells.

The next seconds were overlaid, like images seen beneath fireworks, broken and disjointed. From the doorway, a burst of magic hit, lighting everything—smelling of burned hair. Out of the bright, a form leaped at me through the doorway, vamp-fast, a flash of bright scarlet red. Diving at my throat. I fired a single round. Silver shot. Caught her midbelly. A split instant later, to keep from shooting off my own hand, I lifted the vamp-killer. Brought the weapon in hard. Dark fell again, taking my vision with it.

I was body-slammed. I smelled Adrianna as she rode me down. I kicked out and up, catching her abdomen, my foot sinking into the shotgun wound there, flipping her over me. She held on, knocking us into a back somersault. Momentum pulled at me. I flipped her over me into the wall. Rolled to my knees. Not fast enough. She tackled me, knocking me to the floor. I tried to roll up, but she crawled up my body, vamp-fast. I smelled burning vamp flesh and boiling vamp blood from the silver shot as fangs tore into my right shoulder, going for maximum damage, tearing. I lost the M4, heard it clatter to the floor, my arm instantly numb. No pain yet, just hot blood. With my left arm, I stabbed up. Feeling the rubbery resistance of flesh. She screamed, the ululating wail of vamps dying, heard even over the deafness from the shotgun blast. I dug up with the blade, buried to the hilt. Cold blood flooded over my hand, across my body. Mixing with my own.

A burst of the light-magic lit the room, the burned hair smell gagging. Adrianna yanked her fangs out of my shoulder. Her eyes were vamped-out, lips snarling back from extended fangs.

Adrianna was supposed to be in custody with Gee DiMercy.

My blade was buried in her gut, and I angled it higher, aiming for the heart. Her blood was slippery, almost oily, and the hilt slid in my grasp.

“Stop or he is dead.”

The lamps came back on, bright after the black-night fighting. I blinked against the glare. Jack Shoffru stood in the opening to Katie’s Ladies, Eli against his chest. Blood was everywhere, cascading over my partner. Not arterial. But too much. Shoffru’s fingers were around Eli’s neck, the talons buried in the flesh. Eli was human. He would die. And there would be no bringing him back. Images flashed through me of Eli dead, flesh pasty white. Of Eli in a coffin.

I released the hilt of the blade buried in Adrianna.

She hissed, bloody mouth open like a cat. Lifted herself off me and stumbled into the corner, against the wall. Away from the office and the sofa that hid Bliss and Rachael. I was happy to see my blade still buried in her, the hilt in her right side, where her liver had been when she was human. The point tented her clothes on her left side, poking through between her ribs, under her arm. I had missed her heart, the thrust too low, but I smelled scorching blood, the silver on the blade burning her. Poisoning her. Though not fast enough. I remembered my words to her at the gather. “Hello, dead woman. I’ll have your blood on my hands soon.” I’d been right.

I reached across my body and lifted my own hand. Pulled my damaged arm to me, feeling/hearing broken bones grate against each other. My breath was fast and shallow, my heart sprinting. But no blood spurted. It just ran down my arm and off my fingertips. The pain was already starting, a throbbing, distant gong echoing through me, like a great bell of pain, gathering and building, but still distant. I set my face in emotionless lines as I tucked the numb hand into my waistband. It was cold and bloody. I needed to shift. Beast? I asked. She didn’t answer, but I felt the skin beneath my fingers ripple and bristle. Pelt was forming on my numb hand. Intense pain flashed through my arm, lightning hot. My eyesight tunneled down, black at the edges. I was close to passing out.

It’s never smart to show weakness to a vamp, and fainting from blood loss probably fell into the category. I huffed a laugh at the thought. With a foot, I flipped up a stool that had found its way into the foyer from elsewhere. I sat a hip on it. My eyesight widened. I managed a single deep breath and my field of view widened again.

At his side, Eli’s hand was pointing. In his other hand, hidden in the shadows, he held a fragmentation grenade. I clamped my teeth against a pained breath and huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that’d do it, but it’s sorta overkill, dontcha think?”