and set claws to metal. Holding on. Truck was like bison, big and fast and stupid. But truck had no blood and bones. Truck was alive and not alive, like vampires were alive and not alive. Did not understand truck or vampires. But truck was moving toward city lights, toward place of Jane-den. Stupid truck turned away soon, and Beast jumped down to ground. Prowled on before finding other truck heading toward Jane-den. Changed trucks three more times. Less than five. Was good number.
In French Quarter, truck stopped at place of sleeping and eating. Hotel, Jane called it. Jumped from back of truck to street and padded into shadows. I moved through French Quarter place smelling of many more than five humans and man-food and man-spices and gasoline and many more than five vampires. Went to Katie’s place. Place where enemy of Jane had hunted Katie and taken Katie.
Could smell Katie and Derek and other humans inside. Derek had hunted Katie and brought her back to her den. Derek was good hunter. Wondered if Derek and Katie were mated now. Katie needed strong mate. But smelled blood. Much blood. Katie was wounded and drinking from more-than-five humans. Heard sound of pain from Katie- den.
I chuffed. Did not like smell of human blood. Did not like taste of human flesh. Remembered taste from fight. Jane was right. Should never eat humans. Did not understand vampires—good hunters who ate humans. I turned and trotted into night.
I woke in a stinking alley behind a restaurant, lying on the pavement. Next to a wino so drunk he smelled like a brewery. I crawled to my feet and met his eyes.
“You’re naked, you know.”
“I noticed.”
“I got a blanket I’ll sell you.”
“It isn’t like I have any money on me.”
His eyes gleamed and he showed me broken, brown teeth as he looked me over.
I chuckled softly. “How about this? You loan me your blanket, and I’ll come back with fifty dollars and a brand-new blanket.”
He thought about that for a good half minute while I shivered. “And a pillow. And a waterproof tent. A tiny one I can drape over things when it rains.”
I was standing buck naked in an alley at dawn, bargaining with a wino for his flea-infested blanket. Which was stupid on so many levels. “Whatever it takes to get me the blanket.” The wino scratched himself and I didn’t look at where or at the sight of his black fingernails.
“Done.”
“How about I give you a hundred and let you live?” a soft voice said.
I froze. Rick. Who had just shot me. I turned my body at an angle, making a narrower target. But his hands were empty. His white wolf sat at his side, panting.
Rick saw my reaction and he opened his mouth, breathing in. He went dead-still for a moment, not breathing now, not doing anything, reading me like a cat might. His voice went dead, no tonal shifts or flex. “You think I
I held the coat in front of me, one hand gripping the pocket that held the gun. I could feel it, warm from his body heat, and it did feel like a nine-mil. I held the coat in front of me like a shield, but of course if he had another gun and really wanted me dead, now was the time to fire. He didn’t.
“You told me you had orders to shoot me if I killed a human. I killed a human. Your hand came up. I was shot. Soooo.”
Rick’s face twisted with some emotion I couldn’t name. “You really think I shot you.” He lowered his lids and dropped his head to keep me from seeing what might be on his face. “You killed him in self-defense, not a blood- magic spell or a killing frenzy.” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “I’m a cop. I’m trained to notice little things like that.”
“Who shot me?”
“You call him Diablo.”
I let my mind wander back over the last moments of my life, putting two and two together, and hopefully reaching four. I remembered the humans guarding the remains of de Allyon’s clan. The Tequila Boys. I remembered Diablo, pounding a downed vamp in the pasture after the battle, the night that Leo’s clan home burned to the ground. Had he been putting on a show? Had he agreed to snitch later, in return for something? Drugs? Women? A place in a vamp’s household and the increased life span that offered? Money? Money always talks, and most of the time it talks too much.
“Oh,” I said. Sounding totally lame. “Crap.”
Even I—with my limited social skills—knew I had hurt Rick. I could smell the anger and misery rushing through his veins. See it in his body language, in his expression, in his eyes that were fading from golden green back to black.
“You really thought I’d shoot you,” he said, the sound raw.
“What about my money?” the wino asked.
Rick tossed him a handful of bills without looking, turned on his heel, and walked back down the alley. I slid into the coat, warm from his body.
“Star-crossed lovers, is what you two are,” the wino said. “Or maybe he’s right and you really are a crazy bitch.”
“Yeah,” I said, blowing out a breath. “Right now I’m going with door number two.”
The wolf huffed with what sounded like disgust and showed me his teeth before turning in a sharp circle and lifting a leg on a Dumpster. He huffed again to make sure I knew he would rather be peeing on me. He dropped his leg and padded back down the alley. If a wolf could show disdain, he just had.
“Well, crap,” I muttered.
The rest of my day just got worse. Bruiser needed me to find and corral the humans de Allyon’s death had left running around without a master. De Allyon had used a lot of compulsion on his servants, and when that control disappeared suddenly, there were a lot of displaced, panicked humans running around, most with some version of PTSD from being in his service.
Someone had to deal with the CDC about the vamp plague. They had joined in with Leo’s private lab, working on finding a true cure. Again, me, since PsyLED was a police agency, not a government health agency. Meanwhile, Rick wrapped up his case and left New Orleans without a word—Rick, his unit of nonhumans, and his Soul. I watched him drive off in a new SUV—the kind that looks like a station wagon. It had rental plates, and somehow it looked . . . domestic. I didn’t let tears pool in my eyes until the rental pulled around the corner. Then I blinked them away and went back to work. What else could I do? I worked around the clock with Wrassler and Bruiser and then, all at once, it was all done. Finished. My job was done.
It was midnight, on the night of the new moon. And I was alone.
I got a job offer two weeks later. It was from the elusive Hieronymus, the Master of the City of Natchez. Seemed he had a problem with the remnants of de Allyon’s ungovernable Naturaleza running amok in his city and the nearby hunting territory. He was estimating there were at least twenty vamps hunting humans, and he wanted them removed. The council of Mithrans had offered thirty thousand a head—literally—to take them down. I was thinking about it. A change of scenery sounded like a good idea, and if I took the Younger boys, it would be a good way to test out this partnership idea. Frankly, I was surprised that he’d want one of the people who had shot up his town and left it in disarray to come back, but maybe he felt I needed to clean up my own mess.
I hadn’t heard from Bruiser. Hadn’t heard from Rick, despite the numerous apologies I’d left on his voice mail. Either I’d hurt him so badly with my accusation and lack of trust that he’d just walked away—maybe forever—or he was already in the field again and hadn’t checked voice mail. I could hope it was something simple, though the more time passed, the less likely it was a voice mail problem. I had told him I loved him and then accused him of shooting me. Go, me.
My life was sublimely uncomplicated right now. Which could be a good thing. But was probably not.
