Death's Rival

a happy fanghead.

“Point of information,” Bruiser said, his eyes on me. There was speculation in his gaze, and something else. Something like trust. I gave him a slight nod. He said to the gathered, “Personal defense is not murder. There were no witnesses, no challenge, and no resolution. All human police reports were sent to the Outclan Council and we await their ruling.” Which was news to me.

“Human police are of no interest to us,” de Allyon said.

“Maybe not in the past,” a voice said from behind me.

I whipped my head to the back of the room. Rick. The arm of the law. Beside him were the white wolf and the neon green grindy. To his side was Soul, looking like an escapee from a realm of succubae, dressed in layers of misty, shiny gauze that moved in the room’s air currents. I looked over at the chairs, and knew who the fourth chair in the proceedings had been set for. The Psychometry Law Enforcement Department of Homeland Security.

Why was PsyLED involving itself with a blood-feud? My heart started beating fast, too fast, and I took a breath to calm its racing. But the vamps were too focused on Rick to even notice me. Sabina’s face stretched into an unfamiliar, satisfied smile. I thought back to her words, “You drew the eyes of the legal apparatus of this nation with the debacle in Natchez.” Sabina had hatched plans of her own to end this war? Sabina had called PsyLED to the parley? If not her, who else? I looked around the room. No one else. Dang. Go, priestess.

Rick took his place in the vacant seat across from the priestess and said, “PsyLED is interested in these proceedings, and wishes to know how the Vampira Carta handles rogue, Naturaleza vampires.” De Allyon’s vamps bristled at the term “rogue” being applied to them. It was an insult. Rick knew better, which meant he had used the word deliberately. “We are also looking into numerous deaths and disappearances in the Atlanta area among the homeless, as well as the use of possible weapons of mass destruction in Sedona, Seattle, and Boston.”

Weapons of mass destruction? I thought. Oh yeah. Plague was considered a WMD. Now, that I did not consider.

De Allyon’s mouth curled down. “We are not humans, we are not cattle, to be brought beneath the hand of the human law and the human world.”

Sabina said to the gathering, “The Outclan Council has approved the presence of this nonhuman and his nonhuman creatures, and observation by the human law enforcement agency, at this parley.

“The human police have determined that the evidence,” she continued, “in the attack in the city of Asheville, is consistent with personal self-defense, not formal mortal combat, nor murder. The Outclan Council will rule shortly on the conclusion reached by the human law enforcement. For now, we must rule on this point of order.”

To de Allyon she said, “How say you? Do you accept the challenge of Pellissier’s Enforcer? If so, such combat will take place immediately, before the discussion on the agenda resumes.”

De Allyon’s lips drew down in the faintest of frowns. “We accept.”

My breath eased out between my lips. Oddly, though I now had to fight an old, powerful vamp, I relaxed. By his fighting me, the entire blood-feud could be averted and de Allyon would be back under the Vampira Carta and the rule of the Outclan Council. Whether I lived or died, others would survive the bloodbaths recounted in the histories.

Sabina said, “Combat is approved by the council. As Pellissier made the challenge, de Allyon has choice of weapons. Pellissier will have choice of location. De Allyon will decide the number of rounds, not to exceed ten, and no fewer than three. Combat will begin at my count. De Allyon? Weapons.”

“Bare hands,” the Enforcer said. “No defensive gear, no weapons except skill and muscle and what the combatants find in the field of battle.”

Ice flushed though me. That was not what I wanted to hear. Not when I was wearing such cool weapons and when Jude was such a hulk. Not when the field of battle was a bare floor and brick walls. If I shifted, would it be considered cheating? If I shifted, my secret would be out in a very real and dangerous and final way. Beast put a clawed paw on my brain and pressed down, the claws bringing both pain and relief. Unlike my opponent, I wasn’t alone.

Beast sent me an image, and I wondered what would happen if I just pulled a gun and shot the Big Guy. Though there was no guarantee that a bullet would actually pierce the wads of muscle. It might take an RPG. My grin widened, and the bag of muscle’s confidence slipped for a whole second. And then the perfect location for this little fight popped into my mind and I hoped Big Guy remembered that lapse when I killed him.

“Pellissier. Location?”

I was still smiling when I said, “Couturié Forest in the New Orleans City Park.” De Allyon’s Enforcer blinked at that one. So did Leo. Heads turned to me. Yeah, I’d kept something from them, a lot of somethings actually—like being a skinwalker—and if I was going to be outed as a supernat tonight, or killed saving Katie, then I was going to do it on my terms. Beast growled low in my mind, a warning, a challenge. Her strength flooded through me.

Sabina was the only one in the room to show no surprise, and she set her dark eyes on me in consideration. Her head tilted slightly, acknowledging much more than just my choice of location. Acknowledging what I was. “Number of rounds?” she asked de Allyon, while keeping her eyes on me.

“The full ten rounds. But if our people are in the park, how are we to know when a round is complete?” the old vamp asked.

Sabina considered me, the faintest of smiles on her pale, pale face. “Each round shall be one half hour long. If the combat is concluded with the death of one of the participants before the end of the specified number of bouts, or if a participant should surrender and concede the challenge prior to the termination, the bout will end.”

Concession sounded like a pretty great thing on the surface, but I’d learned that if I conceded, the referee— Sabina—would offer me the coup de grâce and kill me. Conceding was a way to ask for mercy when one opponent was totally beaten and the other guy was just playing with him. Like the way Beast played with her food while it was still alive. It was a mercy stroke, not a way to stay among the living.

“Point of clarification and . . . maybe point of privilege,” I said, trying to remember the Rules of Order for asking for something personal before the bout started. “Clarification—no weapons means we fight with the abilities and gifts nature gave us, right?” I didn’t want to be beheaded after the fact for drawing on Beast or shifting.

“That is correct,” Sabina said, her black eyes glinting. Except for Rick, Sabina knew more about what I was than any other supernat here. “And what is your point of privilege?” she asked.

“I would like to keep my personal jewelry with me.” I almost laughed at Leo’s expression, and I thought Bruiser was going to choke. It was such a girlie request. Even better, the bag-a-muscle Enforcer smirked, as if I’d just proven how easy I was going to be to dispatch. Might as well go with the helpless and dumb female act—it seemed to be working. “My gold necklace, and this.” I held up the lion’s tooth. “It’s like, uh, my lucky rabbit’s foot.”

Sabina smiled again, her face softening. It was such a rare thing that for a moment I just stared. “Does de Allyon refuse or reject the personal point of privilege?”

“The woman may do as she wishes,” the vamp said, his tone both irritated and insulting.

“We will retire to the Peristyle, in the City Park, where stairs lead down to the edge of Bayou Metairie. There, the bout will begin upon my order.” Sabina turned to Leo. “Bring the carriages around.” Leo bowed again and Bruiser spoke into his mouthpiece. De Allyon’s people backed toward the door. Pellissier’s vamps followed Leo, leaving me alone in the center of the Nunnery.

Rick walked up to me, standing close. I knew it was him, without looking, and I could feel his concern. “Can you take him?” he whispered. “Bare hands and teeth?”

“Bare claws and fangs,” I said. I turned and met his black eyes with my own black ones, and felt him start, shock shooting through him.

And then he grinned. “I like the new look. So, what?” He glanced after de Allyon. “He knows?”

“He killed my people. Drank their blood. It’s in a history book Leo has.”

“Beautiful woman, undercover, with guns and knives and things that explode. I’m in love.”

I laughed, the sound filling the quiet warehouse. The remaining vamps turned to look, hearing my laughter. “Great lotta good it’s doing me.”

“Being in love or the weapons?” Rick asked.