Skinwalker (Jane Yellowrock #1)

Skinwalker (Jane Yellowrock #1) Page 62

Sudden nerves grabbed me and I wanted to giggle. Wanted to say, “What? No title for me? Like, famed vamp killer?” But I didn’t. And I stifled the titter in the back of my throat. Me? Nervous about speaking to one of the most powerful vamp councils in the United States? Oh yeah.

The door closed behind us with a swish of air, a soundproofed thump, and a final click. Two muscle-bound bouncers took their places in front of the door, motions choreographed, eyes on us. Armed to the teeth and not trying to hide it. Unhappy at being locked in with vamps, sane or not, Beast rose and studied the scene, muscles bunched and breath hot in my mind.

The vamps were seated in carved black chairs on a dais, at a narrow, curved, half-round table that was probably ebony, a black rug under their feet. They were dressed in black, the men in tuxedoes, the women in floor-length gowns. It was a lot of black. Playing to the stereotype? There were little brass plaques on the table’s front edge, engraved with clan names. This wasn’t a full council, apparently, but an executive session, with only clan heads present. I identified the blood-masters or heirs of Clans Mearkanis, Rousseau, Desmarais, Laurent, St. Martin, and Bouvier. The chairs for Clan Pellissier and Clan Arceneau were vacant, but I figured they had a quorum. If vamp councils needed a quorum. The titter tried to rise again, but I wrestled it down, and studied the woman at the center of the table, Sabina Delgado y Aguilera, the priestess—a vamp I was not supposed to know, I reminded myself.

Jodi and I stood two steps down from the dais, shoulder to shoulder. I felt like a kid standing in the principal’s office. My near-hysterical titter made a third bid for freedom. The vamps turned to us, nostrils flaring, scenting.

Rafael Torrez, scion and heir of Clan Mearkanis, leaned forward, his black eyes on my face. He got in the first sally. “You were hired to kill the rogue vampire, yet we understand that the creature you killed tonight was not one of us. Why should we pay you?”

Anger zinged through me. These creeps were going to try to cheat me. The world slowed down into distinct images of survival and death. Beast rose into my eyes. Growled low in my throat. A threat.

Instantly, the whites of Rafael’s eyes and his face blazed with blood flush. His pupils widened to black. It was a young-vamp loss of control.

The other council members drew back in shock at his gaffe. But Rafael didn’t back down. His fangs snapped down with a soft click. Pheromones of violence filled the room. Vamp menace has a smell, sharp and spiky. Intense in a room full of them. Beside me, Jodi froze. Two other vamps fought their own reactions to Rafael’s scents. Jodi stepped away, her hand going for her gun, which she no longer had. Her fear spiked. Human prey smell. As one, the vamps turned to her. Predator eyes. For a moment, danger churned in the air like poison.

The vamp priestess, sitting beside Rafael, placed a hand on his arm. “Be still,” she said, her voice infused with power. It was almost witchy in its strength. But her eyes were on me. Hawk eyes, seeing too much.

I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh. The vamps all turned to me, swiveling their heads in unison like a circus act. The scents changed to outrage and insult, violence of a different kind. I extended a hand in apology, as if waving away my amused eruption. The vamps simply stared. Jodi took a breath, the sound shaky.

When I got my laughter under control, I said, “The thing that took over Immanuel had been living among you for years and you never guessed. Never knew. Not till he went nuts and started killing off and feeding on humans and his vamp friends. You trying to tell me he didn’t smell like a vamp? Feed like a vamp? As far as the world is concerned, he was a vamp who was morphing into something else. Something even worse.” I saw several eyes blaze at the insult. Well, tough. Beside me, Jodi’s fear increased, her body tensed in indecision.

“My contract specifies that I was to ‘dispatch the rogue who is terrorizing New Orleans.’ I did that, within the ten days allotted me for the bonus. Which I want. The fact that he had eaten a vamp and assumed his identity is not my problem.” Their chins went up in a collective reaction, and I realized I had called them vamps several times. How rude of me.

“I’ve already uploaded the photos of the dead rogue. One is a good, clear shot of his teeth, which has a caption of ‘sabertooth vamp.’ They’re on my Web site with details of the kill. You’ll pay or I’ll bombard the Internet with the fact that the New Orleans vamp council is not to be trusted in contractual matters. I’ll post the contract on my Web site right next to the shot of his teeth. Let the world decide if I fulfilled my contract.”

The reek of enraged vamp pheromones saturated the air, sharp as pepper and vodka. Three of the clan heads were gripping the table, their eyes vamped. Jodi’s breath and heart rate were fast. Fight or flight. Prey response. Not very smart of her. The head of Clan Desmarais, calmer than most, opened a thin laptop and tapped some keys. “She speaks the truth,” he said, his eyes on the screen. Desmarais glanced at me. “The composition of the shots is quite unprofessional. And what are the shadows on the corners of the photographs?”

“My blood,” I said, bluntly.

He leaned toward me and drew in a breath through his nose. “You are not bleeding now. I smell no open wounds at all.”

“Lucky me.” Let them wonder why and how.

“I told you she would not allow us to renege based on such flimsy wording,” Bettina, blood-master of Clan Rousseau, said. I had met Bettina at Leo’s soiree. She was beautiful, and knew it. She had asked me to visit her and I hadn’t gotten the idea that it was for a platonic chat or tea. Even now, her eyes warmed when they touched me. She liked me way more than I wanted, like for dinner and bed, me providing both. “She is a creature of her time,” Bettina said. Beast thought that was funny and I let her humor shine through my eyes.

“Pay her, and be done with it,” Laurent said.

“If she takes down the photographs,” Desmarais demanded.

Though my knees quaked at refusing, I couldn’t negotiate away the pics. “No deal.”

Jodi edged away, toward the door and the bouncers stationed there, her eyes going from me to the dais and back. She wet her lips with her tongue and one hand made a little twitch again, reaching for the missing gun. To keep the vamps’ attention off her, I said, “I make my living killing rogue vamps. The ownership and use of the photos weren’t covered in the contract.” I wondered how far I could push, and decided to go for broke. They could only drain me once, right? “They make good advertising. They stay on the Web site.”

“Enough,” the priestess said. “I saw the creature when it attacked me. I inhaled its scent. It was not of our blood, and yet it was. I was unable to identify the species of the creature, but it intended to kill me. And now it is dead. The spirit of the contract has been fulfilled. Pay her.”

The table fell silent, that total could-have-been-statues vamp stillness. Seconds ticked by. There were no other objections. Eventually Desmarais opened a thin file on the table in front of him and removed an envelope. He slid it across the table. “Your payment and bonus. Certified check, as per the contract.”

I kept the victory off my face, took the check, folded it over, and slid it into the waistband of my jeans. The priestess said, “Jane Yellowrock, it is hoped you will remain in New Orleans for a time.” My mouth opened in surprise and I halted in mid-money-stuff.

Rousseau took over the invitation. “Perhaps for several weeks, until Katherine is recovered and returned to us. We have an additional problem that needs your”—she paused, as if picking her words carefully—“your talents.”

Ungraciously, Desmarais said, “Some low-level Mithran is making scions and leaving them at the untender mercies of the human world.”

I remembered the two young vamps killed in the public housing area. To me, it had looked more like the human world had been left at the merciless fangs of untender vamps. I didn’t say it aloud, however. I figured I had pushed the limits of the council’s own untender mercies as far as I could. Besides, I needed another job. Might as well be here. “I’ll consider it.”

“You will be contacted with details and our offer, after the funeral for Pellissier’s heir,” Bettina Rousseau said. She focused on Jodi before I could reply. “You are commended,” she said. “Your subordinate and undercover officer did well. Richard LaFleur was not detected until a blood-servant at the hospital informed us. We will reimburse the city for his medical bills.”

Jodi blanched at hearing her officer outed. I looked at the toes of my boots and hid a grin. Vamps were sneak attackers.

Desmarais took up from Bettina. “In appreciation for his services and yours, we have placed official commendations in your files, and arranged for the psychometer on loan to your department to become your equipment permanently.”

Jodi looked like she would rather chew through shoe leather than accept the compliment or the device from the people outing Rick, but she knew it was a coup, and logic overrode pique. She managed a simple, “Thank you.”

“You are dismissed,” Desmarais said.

At the dismissal, Jodi looked like she wanted to choke, but I just turned and went to the door. A bouncer unlocked and opened it with an ear-popping change of air pressure and a little swish of air. Airtight, soundproofed. If they had wanted to snack on us, no one would ever have known. I went out, my knees releasing the clench I’d held to keep them from knocking. The relieved breath that whooshed out was more noisy than I’d have liked, but Jodi didn’t comment as she followed. Silently, we traipsed through the house to the front door, followed and led by the bouncers, our muscle-bound escorts. We didn’t see Bruiser.

Outside, the air was moist and heavy from the storm. I blinked at the cloudy sky, seeing a sudden overlay of the death of the liver-eater and Antoine. My breath went unsteady. For the first time I let myself react to the fact that it could have been me on Leo’s floor, dead. Or me on the floor of the vamp council, dead. I’d come close to being dead several times tonight. Real close, real dead.