Death's Rival (Jane Yellowrock #5)

Death's Rival (Jane Yellowrock #5) Page 18

One Punch with a Set of Brass Knucks

I refused the chair. I was feeling stubborn and ornery. I sat, bloody and exhausted, on the floor of the first level, my back to the wall, watching the cleanup. My involvement here was done. The battle between Leo and de Allyon had resulted in the death of humans, attacked by diseased vamps. Two of Derek's men had sustained life-threatening injuries, Vodka Martini and Vodka Lime Rickey. Even with a good supply of vamp-blood to heal them, they might not make it. Vampira Carta had been bypassed, we had a vamp war on our hands, and I had no idea where de Allyon was. I hated to think that things couldn't get much worse - because they always could. They always did.

A congressional committee had been looking at the supernatural problem as it related to law enforcement for ages, trying to come up with a way to apply human law to supernatural creatures. So far, they had not been successful, but scuttlebutt in the vamp hunting community said that PsyLED had been granted sweeping powers to deal with it. With us.

The human police agencies were now involved in this situation, and PsyLED, with Rick acting as OIC and PI, the officer in charge and principal investigator. It was his first big case, and he was coming up with a laundry list of legal charges against the enemy vamps still alive. Rick had called in the crime scene investigators from PsyLED HQ. He had also informed us that the witch circle in the middle of the cinder-block room had been a portal to a cell holding hungry vamps. Like, how was I supposed to know that? And how did he?

Soul followed Rick around like one of his pets, observing and evaluating, agreeing with everything Rick said. Rick was her prized pupil. My arm throbbed. My skin burned. Jealousy skulked through me on pointy little claws.

Close to midnight, Rick finally circled back to me. He knelt near me and said, "You look like hell. You need to shift."

"You say the sweetest things."

He chuckled, looking over his crime scene, and went suddenly silent. His wolf was sitting beside Soul, and the werewolf had dropped his head. His hackles rose. He stood and prowled across the room toward us slowly, lifting his paws one at a time, as if he'd just sighted prey. And the prey was me. I watched the huge white wolf, not moving, freezing like a rabbit in the grass. The wolf wasn't a real wolf, but a werewolf who had been zapped with angel power and was now stuck in wolf form. Pea rode his back, the green catlike grindylow's claws caught in the beautiful fur. The wolf sped up, almost trotting, his eyes on me, and Pea hissed in warning, tightening her grip.

"Brute, hold," Rick commanded. The wolf stopped, but his growl went up in volume. Soul studied us across the room, surprised. Pea chattered and yanked on the wolf's fur, agitated. Rick said, "What's gotten into him?"

"Me, I think." To the were, I said, "I took you down once. I can take you down again. And your pet Pea will slit your throat if you bite me. You better think about that before you try to get back at me."

"You took him down?" Rick asked.

"Yeah. When he was in human form. One punch with a set of brass knucks. I think I broke his jaw."

Brute, which was a good name for the werewolf, growled deep in his throat, more a vibration than a sound. His silver-blue eyes bored into me. Pea hissed and dug in with her claws; the scent of werewolf blood flooded out. I started laughing, which was probably not the smartest thing I could have done, but I was so tired I couldn't hold it in.

Rick stepped to the pair and put his hand on Brute's side. The vibration stopped. Brute lowered his head in threat, but it was a future threat, not one he'd fulfill right now. He snarled, his eyes not leaving mine. The wolf huffed in disgust and dropped to his stomach, putting his head on his paws. Pea mewled and petted the were, grooming his white fur. Rick shook his head. "I have the weirdest life," he muttered, and he walked off.

A moment later he was back, holding a key. He pointed it at his animal unit. "Stay with Soul, guys." He lowered his other hand to me for a hand up. "Come on. We're going for a ride." I let him pull me to my feet, feeling the new power in his body as he lifted me effortlessly. I followed him outside, my body aching and exhausted.

We ducked under the crime scene tape and went directly to Gregoire's limo, where Rick pushed me into the passenger seat and drove us out of the city, stopping at a Piggly Wiggly grocery store. Without a word he went inside, and I lay back in the seat and closed my eyes. I had gotten a nap, but my arm was throbbing, and my skin was burning where the vamp-blood had landed. I must have fallen asleep, because he was back in five seconds with three hams, a box of protein bars, and a ham sandwich. He expected me to shift and heal myself. Rick restarted the limo and took my hand as he pulled out of the lot.

Holding hands, silent, he drove down through Natchez Under the Hill, into the dark, the town's lights throwing dark shadows into the car. He parked next to the river, the limo engine silent. He stared out over the black water. It was moving fast, eddies and swirls and little fluffs of foam here and there.

"The docks and warehouses and old homes here were all built on the backs of slave labor. Just like New Orleans," he said. "Now, a century and a half after the fall of slavery, it's beautiful and awful all at once."

That was a very un-Rick-like comment. I looked out over the massive waterway, weeping willows and fall-painted trees on its verdant banks. Downstream, where a stream joined the river, there was a small rookery of white egrets, looking like a cloud caught in the branches of dead trees. Rick studied the water, and I turned to him, wondering how much the were-taint, and all he'd been through, had changed him. Was still changing him. I finally broke the silence. "You're healed," I said.

He shrugged. "I heal fast now."

I thought about that. "How was the last full moon?" I asked.

"I did okay." He shrugged again. "Solved a crime. Got a badge." After a moment, he said, "Lost my girl."

Beast rose in me, watching him, intent as if he was prey. Mine, she murmured. "I haven't gone anywhere," I said.

"I can't have sex. If I have sex with you, Pea will kill me. Then she'll kill you."

Unexpected tears blurred my vision. I tightened my grip on his hand. He returned the pressure, his gaze still on the river. "There's more to love than sex," I said.

He didn't look at me. "Do you love me, Jane?"

I swallowed past the sudden pain in my throat. "Yeah. Do you love me?"

"Yeah." He smiled then. "We're so damn romantic."

I laughed, fighting down tears. We were holding hands so tightly we'd have broken the bones of a normal human. "We'll find a way through this eventually," I said. "Both of our species are long-lived, barring fatal accidents like getting eaten." Rick's brows went up at that one, but he still didn't turn to me. "Just because we can't be together today doesn't mean we won't be able to be together tomorrow."

"Our jobs, you for the vamps, me with PsyLED, put us at odds." He had said that earlier and the repetition made me listen more closely. "I haven't told anyone what you are, but you're a skinwalker and I'm a cop." He stared hard into the night, and I got a bad feeling about what Rick might say next. "If you went renegade and, say, ate someone's liver - "

"U'tlun'ta," I said. The Cherokee word was pronounced "hut luna," and was what one of my species became when we got old, went crazy, and started eating humans.

Rick let the ghost of a smile cross his mouth and said, "Yeah. That. We studied American tribal mythology as part of our training." He stared out over the Mississippi, her waters a muted susurration and a deep thrum, like the heartbeat of the world. "Don't make me have to kill you. Shoot you with silver."

I thought about that while the river ran past and my arm throbbed. "If I started killing humans, I'd want you to shoot me."

After a longer moment, he said, "Glad we got that straight. Like I said. Romantic. But we can't be together." It was half a question, and I shook my head in a silent no. We couldn't be together because sex would infect me with black were-leopard blood-taint. At the thought, tears gathered in my eyes.

Rick made a ruminating sound, halfway between a thoughtful hmmm and a grunt. "So, in the meantime we . . . what? Date others?"

Mine, Beast thought.

I wondered if his dating others included the witch, Soul. My heart hurt when I said, "Seems only fair. See each other when we can."

Rick turned to me then, his cat rising in his eyes. "Play when we can?" He meant play in bed, which we'd done once and which had been pretty close to fantastic. Okay, had been totally fantastic.

My heart lightened and my lips curved up slightly. "Play. Yeah. Play."

"I can smell your blood," he said. "I can smell that you've lost a lot, too much, and you're still bleeding. You need to shift." He opened his door and pulled me across the seat and out. I felt faint-headed from standing so quickly, and leaned against the car as Rick grabbed the groceries, a blanket, and slid an arm around my waist to support me, which felt all kinds of weird. I wasn't used to being supported. In any way. But Rick was inhumanly strong now, my weight almost nothing on him. He led me down, toward the river, away from the lights of the city on the bluff and from the noise of Natchez Under the Hill, and into the shadows. The night was chill, with a faint wind. I could smell the water and the egrets and the hams. I had never fed Beast ham, especially not cooked ham, and I wondered how she would like the sugar-crusted honey-baked one and the bacon-wrapped one. My mouth started watering just thinking of the meat. Yeah. I needed to shift.

In a secluded spot Rick spread out the blanket, put the hams on the grass, and ripped them open. He lay down on the blanket. "Strip," he commanded.

I spluttered, thinking, So much for any thoughts of romance.

"I dare you." He lay back on the blanket with his hands behind his head.

"I've always thought taking dares was stupid."

"I've always thought you naked was wonderful."

Which put a totally different characteristic on his command. I felt in my pocket and found the lion's tooth I used when I needed to shift in an unexpected place or time. My arm was throbbing. I had lost a lot of blood. I sighed and started dropping blades. They made an impressive pile. Next to them I dropped the utility belt and the lightweight Kevlar vest, followed by the holsters and weapons. Then I pulled off combat boots and socks. The grass prickled my bare soles. When I unbuttoned the camo pants, Rick's eyes started a soft yellow-green glow. I could smell his cat, musky and hot-blooded.

I held his eyes as I slid the pants off, my body hidden by shadows and the long tails of the black shirt. The cold November night air hit my legs. Chill bumps rose on my skin. My body tightened all over.

I unbuttoned the shirt cuffs, exposing my wrists. Started on the buttons down the front of the shirt. Rick's eyes glowed greener. His cat scent filled the night, merging with the powerful water-fish-pollution stench of the enormous river. I slowed, a heaviness filling me. His eyes holding me.

Slowly, I pushed the shirt off my shoulders. Let it fall to the grass. It caught at my wound, the dried blood like glue. I felt fresh trickles across my skin. The cut was pounding, aching beneath the bandage. Ignored. My breath came fast. I unbuckled the black bra. Let it fall. The night caressed my stomach and across my breasts. Rick's eyes seemed to follow the wind. My nipples tightened and a turgid warmth settled low in my belly.

I hooked my fingers in my panties and slid them down. When I stood, Rick was watching me, his eyes a bright, sharp green-gold glow. The scent of our cats caught up on the slow breeze and played lazily in the small clearing.

Mine, Beast thought. And she slammed down through me. I knelt on the grass and bent over Rick, purring. I rubbed my cheek to his, his rough nighttime beard scratching. I scraped my jaw along his, scent-marking him. He was purring now too, the twin vibrations filling the air.

His hands clenched, as if to keep from grabbing me. "Shift," he said, his voice tight. "Or we're gonna be in trouble. You smell too good."

I laughed, my voice deeper than my own, and sat back on my heels. His eyes traveled over me as I arched back and wrapped my fingers around the tooth. Beast was so close to the surface that the transition started instantly. My spine whipped back, hard. Pelt sprouted. I entered the gray place of the change.* * *

I came to, on the grass beside blanket. Ricky Bo was there, green cat eyes watching me. I panted, smelling his lust and Jane's on the air. Watched him. Liked the smell of the cat inside him. Different from smell of Beast-cat, but fertile and young and full of strength. I pulled paws under me and stretched, arching back, stretching out front legs and chest and spine. Yawned, showing killing teeth. I padded across blanket. Rick's body went still. Smelled his scent change. I huffed. No need to fear. I leaned over him, sniffing, sucking air in through mouth, over scent sacs in mouth. Liked his scent.

"Jane?" Rick asked, his voice tight. "Are you there?"

I licked his face, rough tongue on his pelt and skin. I rubbed my jaw over him, depositing scent. He did not move. He stayed still, not sure if he was prey or mate. I draped legs across him and lay on him, belly to belly. Licked again. Stared him in face, in eyes. Mine. Always mine.

Rick raised hand. Stroked along Beast side. Scratched under jaw and up near ears. I huffed and laid head on his chest. Heard his heartbeat grow steady. I closed eyes. Let Rick groom me.

Later, I opened eyes and rose, moving slowly. I turned to dead pig and settled to eat, belly to ground. Ate old watery pig meat. Rick relaxed beside me, scent signature changing again. He opened his pig meat and bread food and ate. He started laughing. I turned eyes to him.

"This is the weirdest damn picnic I ever had."

I chuffed with laughter. Licked pig juices from ground. Was not so good as boar killed with Beast claws, but was tasty.* * *

I dressed while Rick watched. His eyes were human again, black as the night, Frenchy black and beautiful. Finally I said, "What did Beast do?" At his puzzled look, I said, "She held me down. Sometimes I don't have access to the world through her." Which just sounded all weird, since I hadn't told Rick about the second soul living inside me, or how she got there.

Rick grinned slowly. "She scent-marked me."

My brows went up.

"Then she draped herself across me and licked me. I figured she wanted to be petted, so I did. Then she ate her dinner and I ate my sandwich. And she shifted back. I think she was claiming me."

"Yeah," I said, uncomfortable with the subject of Beast's feelings for Rick. "She was." I buttoned the shirt and tucked it back into the pants. The blood was stiff and dried. I left the boots off. "So, what now?"

"Now we go back to town and finish the crime scene."

One of the phones vibrated on the grass. It was the official cell given to me by Leo. I picked it up, and Leo's picture was on the front. "Yellowrock," I said.

Bruiser growled, "Katie was attacked at sunset. Natchez may have started out as our foray, but once our forces were split, they used it to their advantage. We need to get back to New Orleans now."

"On the way," I said. Rick was already picking up the blanket and our stuff. I grabbed up my gear and we raced back to the limo. It was gonna be a long night, and for some reason, I was feeling all mellow and peaceful and easy. I smiled as we ran.

We left our luggage for later pickup in the house we had rented and damaged, and tore back toward New Orleans. I was in Gregoire's limo with Alex, Bruiser, Derek, and Eli. The limo had taken some hits during the fight with the blood-servants, and I wasn't looking forward to telling Gregoire that his ride was now damaged. Derek's other men, the injured and the healthy, were in the truck that had brought our gear and in the rented limo that Leo and Gregoire had arrived in. Leo had commandeered his own helo and he and Gregoire were already halfway back to New Orleans.

So much was left undone. We had never met or confronted the master of the city, the vamp whose name I couldn't pronounce, Big H. It was a serious breach of vamp protocol to enter an MOC's city without going the first night to say howdy. Of course, it was a worse breach to go in and shoot up and behead his guests, so maybe I was overthinking things. Or maybe I'd just made another fanghead enemy. Go, me.

In the limo, Alex was intent on something on his electronic gear, shoving in little finger-sized drives, saving, adding other files, oblivious of us. He had a plastic Coke bottle with a tall straw in the drink holder meant for crystal champagne flutes. Eli and Bruiser were discussing tactics and strategy for securing the humans and vamps, and on the phone to Leo and Gregoire and once to NOPD. Laying out plans.

Bruiser was in charge of this gig, not me; I was just muscle, a shooter, and I was stretched out on the rear seat, letting the events of the night flit through my brain like bats in candlelight, small things illuminated for a moment before darting away. I was aware of everything. The smell of dried blood and sweat on all of us, the stench of sick and dead vamp, tired humans, blood-servant, and the smell of cat caught in my clothes. The limo engine purred. The softer sounds of Alex's electronics whirred and clicked. The night, like black velvet, pressed against the windows. The men glanced back at me often, their puzzlement a faint tinge of scent on the air. The road bucked constantly beneath us, the expansion joints making the car rock.

I knew that Rick was in a car somewhere behind us. I could feel him. His concentration. His intensity. I guessed he was driving and talking and giving orders. Cop stuff. I knew that his inhuman unit and Soul were with him, but I was no longer jealous. I could feel his relationship with Soul and it was nothing like what he felt for me. She was his mentor, friend, and teacher. He honestly just liked her. I wasn't sure that knowing what Rick was feeling and doing was a good thing, and though it was nice on one level, I hoped it would fade soon. It was distracting.

And I could feel something else, like a disconnect in the fabric of the world. That was a little poetic, especially for me, but there it was. Something was wrong. We were under attack. We had caught one traitor, so . . . how had de Allyon known we were in Natchez? Was there another traitor in the close-knit group, maybe someone near the top of the vamp-chain? Not someone at the top of Leo's group, because a master vamp knew the heart and mind of everyone he drank from. That left the lower-level vamps and Derek and his men. Again. I scrubbed my face with my palms and pressed them against my eyes. We had lost the opportunity to use Angel Tit to feed our enemy info when we captured his assassin. Was there a way to use that?

I pulled my cell and sent a text to Alex. "Is Cheek Sneak our bad guy?"

He texted back "Still looking." Which was no help at all. With Eli taking his cell, he knew we were onto him. If he was the bad guy, he wasn't likely to make another mistake.

"How about the others?" I texted again. "Anyone likely?"

Alex looked up at me a moment later and nodded, a scant movement of his head, and sent me a text back. I read it, closed my cell, and put it away. So. Alex agreed with me. It was one of six people, with Cheek Sneak at the top of the list He was probably dirty. Not definitively. Which was no help at all, really. I remembered thinking recently that once a list of suspects rose above five, things got complicated. Like now. And the Kid had some new info for me, stuff he'd downloaded off the computers at de Allyon's before Rick took over. I remembered the green and red computer or battery-backup lights in the room where I'd fought the first vamp. The Kid had gotten in there and downloaded all the PCs. He was freaky smart. He was gonna be a huge help to me, even though he did need a shower again something bad. Stinky little fart.

The limo was breaking every traffic law there was. We passed no cops, lucky us, thanks to someone's interference, maybe Leo's. Maybe he had called in a few favors. Or Bruiser had. Operations involving vamps meant that the system worked differently - that whole "Some pigs are more equal than others" deal. I just rested through it all, letting the world pass me by for once. Not fighting for once.

When New Orleans' bright lights lit up the horizon, Bruiser's cell rang. "George Dumas," he said. He got a funny look on his face. His eyes slanted up and met mine. His accent went all British and snooty as it did when he was under stress or worried or really, really angry. Based on the way his eyes went dead, I was betting on anger this time. "Yes. I know who Lucas Vazquez de Allyon is. If you harm Katie, your blood, and the blood of your people, will run in the streets."

I sat up slowly.

"We are," Bruiser said. His eyes bored into mine. "Have you replaced your dead Enforcer? Yes. Jane Yellowrock is with us." A cold smile lifted his lips. "Good. We accept."

I had a bad feeling that the "we" part, of the "We accept," actually meant me.

That cold little smile stayed in place as Bruiser hit END and speed-dialed another number. I was more shocked than anyone when Sabina answered.