Skinwalker (Jane Yellowrock #1)

Skinwalker (Jane Yellowrock #1) Page 25

“I don’t know for sure. But the smell of blood usually draws out any in hiding. Especially the young ones.” I cradled my arm to my waist. Adrenaline faded; I was hurting. Throbbing. Bad. “I haven’t decapitated the girl,” I said. “You want to do the honors?” I picked my vamp-killer up from the dirt and handed it to him hilt first. I could have done it myself. I had done it before. But this was his turf. His true-kill, if he wanted it.

He took the hilt, reached into a pocket with his other hand, pulling out a small, vibrating cell phone. Glancing at the display, he flipped it open. “Mr. Pellissier.” He sounded exactly like a Marine reporting to headquarters. Beast perked up, listening. Derek strolled away, but not far enough to give him privacy. Unlike a human, I could hear both sides of the conversation.

“Two encom down,” he said softly. “One of my men wounded and needing assistance, life threatening if he doesn’t get to a hospital or get an infusion from one of you, sir.”

I understood that Leo or one of his family could and would heal the injured man. Interesting. I knew vamp blood could heal, but had never seen it happen, the vamp-on-vamp scene between Katie and Leo notwithstanding. I heard Leo say, “And Miss Yellowrock?”

“The girl’s injured. It’s non-life threatening but she’s lost blood and use of one arm, sir. She needs a surgeon or one of you. She took one vampire down single-handedly. She’s a good soldier, sir.” I felt like I was being recommended for a medal, which might make me one of Derek’s men. Funny idea.

“Keep the girl there. I wish to speak with her.”

“Yes, sir. How far out are you, sir?” Derek asked.

“Ten minutes.” The connection ended and Derek put the phone in his pocket. He looked at me. I sat down heavily on a curb, trying to look weak, light-headed. Not difficult under the circumstances. I put a hand to my head and then to my wounded arm.

Derek said, “You okay?”

“Not really,” I said. “I feel kinda sick to my stomach. I think I might throw up.” Beast sent me an image of a big cat with her tail flipping, amused.

“Normal reaction. Combat hits some guys that way. Just take a break. I’ll finish off your vamp for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, sounding frail and feminine. Beast hacked a cough and gathered herself for flight. Right. I would not sit here waiting for Leo, no matter what he’d ordered. Moments later Derek walked back, his booted feet agile, his tread soft on the dry ground. He handed my knife back. Though he had cleaned it, I could smell vamp blood on the silver, corrosive, like sulfur and nitric acid or something equally caustic. I hadn’t paid much attention to chemistry in school. Now I wish I had. If I ever went to college, I wanted a Chemistry 101 class.

I sheathed the knife. “Thank you.” When he didn’t answer, I tilted my head up and studied his face. It was hard, closed. “You knew her, too, didn’t you?”

He nodded once, the action crisp as a weapon snapping shut. “Jerome’s sister.” He bit off the words. “She was twelve. I saw her last Saturday.” I heard a car engine in the distance. “Seven days . . .” His voice trailed off. “Seven damn days. And she’s a vamp.” He looked into the distance. “The other one we took down, he made her?” I nodded. “So who made him?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t—” Smell another vamp on him. Right. I substituted for that, “Leo might be able to tell.”

“I’m goin’ after whatever made him.” The words were low and hard: a vow. I had heard a few in my time, and knew the tone. His eyes were bleak. “No matter what Mr. Pellissier say.”

Well. That was interesting. I’d love to dissect the relationship between the Marine and the vamp leader, but I wanted out of here before Leo got close. I didn’t want to be beholden to the city’s head bloodsucker for healing my wound, and I didn’t want him to know that I could heal from something this bad on my own. And I wanted to take the girl vamp’s head; my blood was on her mouth, and I wasn’t keen on Leo smelling my blood for reasons that had everything to do with his dark right of kings. I had no intention of making myself look interesting to him. I shifted my feet under me, prepared for the moment when Derek’s head was turned. I needed only a second, but I hesitated. “Just a suggestion,” I said, gesturing at my clothes. “Vamp hunting’s dangerous. Dress the part.”

Derek laughed shortly under his breath. “I’d take you with me if I could. But I can’t wait till you’re a hundred percent.”

I accepted the compliment with a small nod. “Leo has my number if you need anything. And hey. If there’s a bounty on these two, it’s yours.”

He accepted and turned. The car engine was growing closer. A powerful motor, finely tuned, sounding heavy on the night air, as if the vehicle it powered was massive. I pushed my feet under me and stood, let myself sway in the night. Derek caught my good hand to steady me. The pain from the other arm pounded through my veins. Beast had better resistance to pain; I drew on her reserves. But I knew my arm was bad. Real bad. “Thank you,” I said. “For coming out here tonight. I’d be dead, or close to it, if you had stayed inside where it’s safe.”

“Ooh rah,” he said, and shrugged.

“Semper fi,” I said, wondering how many medals he had in his junk drawer.

He laughed, the sound derisive and harsh.

CHAPTER 11

We sa . . . Bobcat

I still didn’t know for sure what Leo was driving because I was three blocks away by the time he pulled down the street. The vehicle lights were high off the ground. I figured it was a Hummer. The older, heavier, military model, not the newer, lighter, better mileage version.

I slipped away, taking the girl’s head with me, carrying it by its soft curls. I’d dunk it in a nearby pond or swamp to remove my blood, and leave it where Leo could return it to her family for proper burial. Vamp spit had kept my pain down, but was wearing off. Walking hurt.Cradling my injured arm at my waist, I was out of the hood pretty quickly, but I stuck to the shadows, dangling the head. I figured even the most jaded and cynical inhabitant might report a bloody girl in a party dress carrying a severed head by its hair.

Two things about New Orleans: There is always water nearby, and the very rich live within walking distance of the very poor. In less than a mile, I found a fenced yard with the scent of koi pond. I scanned the area, didn’t spot any cameras, didn’t smell any dogs on the other side, and hopped the fence. Not trusting my quick scan, I knelt in the heavy shrubbery and surveyed the place. The pond was huge, complete with a miniature waterfall and green plants. The house beyond it was a monster, with arches and lots of screened porch space. It was dark, soundless. I figured it was near two in the morning, so any inhabitants were sleeping.

Concealed behind an elephant-ear plant, I set the head to the side and untied my bandage so I could scoop pond water over my arm, washing off the blood. It was dried and cracking, and had started to burn. I don’t know what pH vamp blood is, but it has to be acidic. More chemistry. Maybe a class in Vamp Physiology 101 would be better.

When I had washed off most of the blood, I stripped and rinsed my dance clothes, wrung them out, and put them back on wet. It didn’t help the pain, but being clean—well, more clean—helped me in some way I couldn’t have explained. The clothes were cool on my skin and smelled sorta fishy. Beast was hungry and informed me she wasn’t averse to fish for dinner. “Later,” I murmured, keeping an eye on the house as I dunked the head into the pool. Dried blood, fresh blood, and bits of vamp floated free. Attracted by the smell or maybe by all my movement, koi swam close and watched, golden, pink, black-and-white, in tabby cat- blotched patterns. One nibbled on a bit of vamp flesh and spat it out in a puff of water. “Smart fishy,” I murmured. I hoped vamp blood wasn’t toxic to oversized goldfish.

When the head was as clean as I could get it without bleach and a stiff brush, I turned it in the water and studied it. She was a light-skinned black girl, delicate of bone structure, with loose curls. Her gray eyes stared at me from the water, still wearing the confusion of death. I reached between her lips and eased her vamp teeth down from the roof of her mouth. They were hinged, like a snake’s, the bony structure growing in behind her human teeth. I let them contract back. With her dead, the motion was slow, as if the small joints were frozen. Rigor mortis, vamp style, maybe. As I studied the head in the pool of water, the surface stilled, reflecting back the security lights. Reflecting back my face beside hers. Cheekbones prominent, hair a riot of braids falling over my shoulders. Yellow eyes next to the gray ones.

I didn’t know her name, only that she was Jerome’s sister. And that she had been twelve. I had just killed a twelve-year-old killer. Did that make it okay? Worse than an adult killer?

If I had waited, would Leo have been able to trap her, chain her in his basement, or the New Orleans equivalent, until she developed self- and appetite control? If I hadn’t gone behind the abandoned house, would she have waited, hiding while her maker was killed? Would she have not attacked me? Crap. I hated morning-after regrets of any kind, especially the ones that arrived before morning. I didn’t know what to feel. Sorrow. Shame. Something.

Beast was silent. She felt no shame, didn’t understand the emotion, considering it a waste of time. Reaching into the still water, scattering my reflection, I closed the vamp’s eyes.

I stood, still hidden by the huge leaves, and spotted a towel draped over a chair, on a short deck. I stole the towel, wrapping the head, awkward because of my arm. Which was now hurting like a misery—a pounding, pulsing pain that, even with Beast’s help, was making me nauseous. I rewrapped the turban around my wounds and loped to the fence, tossed the head over, grabbed the fence top with my good hand, and pulled myself after it. Feeling exhaustion in every muscle, breathing too hard for the exertion, I headed home.

If the U.S. Congress ever passed laws giving vamps complete civil rights, making them something more than monsters, I would have to find another way to make a living. I could go to jail for staking them. Beast showed me a vision of the children’s home I lived in for six years. Beast’s idea of jail. I’d have to show her a real prison someday. Or a zoo. Beast hissed at me.