Authors: Faith Hunter
Before dark, Alex sent me an e-mail with an attachment, and stood over me with a half-proud,
half-sheepish grin as I opened the document he’d sent. As I studied the file, he fidgeted,
sitting down, standing up, roaming around and around the room. Without looking up,
I said, “Stop. Light somewhere. Explain this to me.”
“It’s how Lucas Vazquez de Allyon is making some vamps sick when they to go Blood-Call
for a date, without letting his Typhoid Mary out of his sight.”
I felt lighter, as if someone had just taken a lead overcoat off me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Proof that Blood-Call has everything to do with the sick master vamps.”
I leaned back in my chair and said, “Okay. Shoot. Convince me.”
An hour later, I realized that the Kid had hacked into another government agency and
found something in the CDC’s employee files that might help lead us to someone who
could heal all the sick vamps in the nation—proof of what the plague really was, and
how it had been developed—because it wasn’t something that had appeared naturally.
Alex was grinning like a trained monkey, and I smiled back. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
“So, do I rate a Big Mac?”
“Nope. The lady had to tell you to shower,” Eli said from the opening to the safe
room. “But you did good, kid. Real good. I’m proud of you.” Eli turned back without
waiting to see what effect his words had on Alex. The Kid glowed pink from his palms
to his ear tips. I managed not to grin, which might have spoiled it for him, and nodded
instead, my eyes on the screen. “What he said. Good work.”
“Okay. Okay, then.” Alex stood, bristling with energy, with purpose, with poorly concealed
delight. “I’ll have a cup of coffee. You want one, Eli? Jane, you want tea?”
“Sure,” we both said at the same time. Eli tipped his head around the door just enough
to see his brother go into the kitchen. When the Kid was gone, Eli tilted his head
at me in thanks. And I realized that, maybe, we had just become a team. Turning away,
I called a high-level parley at Katie’s.
* * *
Alex, showing his nerves by the way one knee jerked spasmodically, stood in front
of a specially picked small group of vamps and humans. I stood over to the side, where
I had a good view of every person in the group. Leo, who I wanted to stake on sight
or curl up at his feet, sat front and center in a padded chair that looked like a
throne. Katie, his heir, Grégoire, his second heir should Katie predecease him, Troll,
Grégoire’s B-twins, Brandon and Brian, all the clan heads still alive after the battle,
and a smattering of humans and servants sat or stood around the walls. The room was
crowded, even with the silver cages removed and the furniture back in place, and over
it all rode the half-muted tingle of power and the scent of Leo Pellissier, peppery
parchment, still tainted with the faint, fermented hint of too much blood. It made
me grind my teeth, and I had to breathe slowly to keep my heart rate from speeding
and betraying my emotional state. The MOC didn’t look my way, to see if I was okay,
or still hurt from his attack.
The room fell silent for long, awkward seconds and finally Leo turned his head and
met my eyes, his own guileless and superior. Even though my brain said to ram a silver
stake through his black heart, I still wanted to fulfill his wishes, the result of
the dregs of the binding that still trapped me. I wondered fleetingly how bad it would
be if I had no way to resist, if the binding was permanent, and not something that
Beast and I could destroy eventually. I didn’t want to think about what a person would
do or become if she had no will at all. Rather than do what I wanted most, I broke
the master’s gaze and nodded to Alex.
He cleared his throat. “Hi. I’m Alex.” He wiped his sweating palms on his pants. “Okay.
Well. Yeah. Okay.” He took a breath and launched into his spiel. “The disease is from
a mutated strain of the
Filoviridae ebola
virus, one that can be safely carried by humans,” Alex said, opening with a bang.
It was clear from Leo’s reaction that even old vamps knew of the Ebola virus. The
MOC sat back in his chair slowly, as if putting distance between himself and Alex.
The other vamps took a collective half step back.
“The only human known to have contracted the virus,” Alex said, oblivious of the vamps’
reactions, “was one Tanya Petrov, a virologist who worked at Greyson Labs. Two weeks
after she contracted the virus, the lab was purchased by de Allyon’s company, and
the victim vanished from a level-four containment facility, while under lockdown,
something that was not supposed to be able to happen. Subsequent electronic forensics
showed the disappearance took place between four a.m. and four-ten a.m., when there
was a disruption in the digital security system.
“A few years earlier, a boutique pharmaceutical company called DeAli, owned by our
head evil dude, announced trials for a new drug that was supposed to help an existing
cancer chemotherapy drug locate and penetrate cancer cells with the help of a deactivated
virus. This drug was never released to the general market, though it went through
all the trials with excellent results and has been in production for months in small
batches. The drug never got a market name, and goes by the moniker VR1389. For the
purposes of this discussion, we’ll call it VR.” Alex grinned when he looked up, seeing
all the vamps concentrated on him. To me it looked like a pride of African lions fixated
on prey, but the Kid seemed immune to that imagery.
“This part is guesswork, but what I think happened is that de Allyon—whose base is
the same city as the CDC, by the way—wooed some top people from them. A virologist,
a microbiologist, and a couple of people who specialize in genetic recombinant studies
left within the last couple of years.” He looked at me quickly and back to the room
before adding, “They all disappeared, like totally, literally.” He wiped his hands
down his pants again. “I think that one of de Allyon’s pet virologists or microbiologists
discovered that the new cancer drug, VR, worked like cocaine on vamps, making them
all mellow and buzzed. I think that after he got all his medical team together, they
discovered that it also would bond with the new strain of Ebola. De Allyon kidnapped
Tanya Petrov, injected her with VR, and made a vamp . . . ire,” he added, “drink from
her.
“The combo of the virus and the drug seem to work like a highly addictive narcotic
on vampires. They are both sick and stoned. They need more of the drug, which is available
only in a virus combo cocktail. And they eventually die. Meanwhile, it looks like
de Allyon discovered that a very few of his humans, who had been dinner to vampires
infected with the VR combo, were able to pass along the disease
and
the addiction for several days before falling really sick themselves and developing
antibodies to the virus. If what I think is true, de Allyon now had a disease
and
a treatment. If the sick vampires drank from these humans, and no longer drank from
a recently infected host, the vampire would survive.”
It was a lot to take in, and I had heard it already once. The small crowd in Katie’s
sat in silence. A lot of what Alex had pitched to the vamps had started out as thinly
supported conjecture on our part, but Reach had contacted a researcher at CDC and
managed to confirm most of it. This scenario was the only thing that explained why
the Seattle humans had gotten sick, then better, and then been taken away. It also
explained why the new MOC had left only one human antibiotic factory in Sedona for
Ro to drink from.
Alex looked at me for his cue. We had planned the timing of this part of the lecture
carefully, to allow the vamps and humans time to take it all in without panic, and
for me to study them all while they did. When I thought there had been enough time,
I lifted a finger to Alex.
“There is also a new nationwide corporation called Blood-Call,” he said. The attention
of several vamps sharpened at the name. “VR,” Alex said, “may be administered to unsuspecting
vampires on a Blood-Call appointment. A vampire drinks from a Blood-Call lady or man
of the evening, one who is freshly injected with the drug and virus combo. The vampires
who drink from the infected humans get a feeling of euphoria, driving them back again
and again. After a few visits, they begin to bleed internally. They need more drug
and
they need the treatment, and they’ll give anything to get it.”
I figured that VR was the metallic scent I had detected early on, in victims of the
disease, but saw no point in saying so. I could identify the drug by its smell. Not
that it would ever do me any good.
A vamp raised his hand, and I covered a snort with a fake cough at the sight of an
elegant undead requesting permission to speak, like a kid in class. Grégoire asked,
“Are all of the blood-meals offered by Blood-Call infected?”
“No. Most of the humans are healthy,” Alex said. “I’ve traced indications that special
transportation is arranged to the city of choice when de Allyon is ready to make a
move on it. He uses a charter company based in Atlanta, and flies his infected humans
into the city for dinner.”
Grégoire, Leo’s
secundo
and heirs’ heir, nodded, one finger in the air. “So, perhaps we can trace the location
of the next attack by the movements of this special charter service,
oui
?”
“Good idea,” Alex said, typing into his little electronic tablet thingy. “I’ll see
if I can get into the system and trace down the accounting. That way we can tell when
a flight is being activated by de Allyon. In fact, I can take a look-see and find
out how many have been sent here.” The silence in the room was intense at that, as
the vamps all considered who they had sipped from recently who might not be in their
own personal menagerie.
Into the worried silence, Katie said, “Leo owns two small research laboratories, one
in Arizona, one in Houston. They are currently working on a cure to the disease and
an antidote to this drug. We have Sabina and Bethany, two of very few priestesses
in his land, both of whom have the power to heal, even to cure this disease. Few masters
of the city have such outclan at their disposal. We also have the Mercy Blade, with
the power to heal. This new information will accelerate the process of finding a cure.
Our people need not worry, should any become ill with this plague. We will care for
our own.”
Alex looked up from his keying. “Sorry. Okay. So. How does the virus work? The vampire
immune system is attacked by the Ebola variant and VR combo, and other bacteria quickly
take over,” Alex went on, “the same way that bacteria would break down any dead body.”
I almost groaned. He had just called some of the most powerful vamps in the nation
dead. Which they were, but still. I glanced around, gratified that none of them seemed
to be taking offense. I’d hate to have to stake someone for hurting Stinky, and I
was already in enough trouble with the vamps.
“It makes the victims look like plague victims. The important thing to remember is
that the vamps are addicted
and
sick. That’s why the masters of the city in Sedona, Seattle, and Boston gave up without
a fight. De Allyon owns them undead body and soul.”
I spoke up. “And do we know who from Asheville, um . . .
dated
a Blood-Call escort?” All the vamps in the room turned as one to me and stared.
Finally Leo said, his voice all Frenchy and stilted, “An internal investigation will
take place. Those who need to be notified of the results will be informed. Please
continue, young man.”
Ah,
I thought
. As in “not me.” Gotcha.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Vampires Are Like Boars. And Like Kits
An hour into the meeting, my phone vibrated in my jeans pocket. I stood to slip out
of the room. So did Bruiser, holding his own cell. We met in the hallway and both
of us took the calls.
“Jane. Derek here. I just got word that Sabina is sick. The crazy nutso priestess,
the one with loose marbles, that Bethany chick, wants to go to her, but I’m not risking
one of my men to take her.”
“Wait, wait. Sick? How sick?”
“She woke up this evening and she was bleeding. She called in, but my men are
not
driving Bethany. And Leo’s cars all got torched along with the house.”
“Bleeding,” I whispered. Sabina had healed the once-sick vamp Callan. Now she was
sick. “I’ll make sure that Bethany is taken to Sabina. Thanks.”
“Copy.” The call-ended light appeared on my cell.
Bruiser was hanging up too. “Bethany wants a ride to the Mithran graveyard,” he said.
“Yeah. Sabina is sick.” My mouth turned down. “She probably has the illness she healed
Callan from, and if Bethany sips from her while trying to heal her, Bethany will be
sick too.”
“Understood,” Bruiser said. “I’ll handle it.” But he didn’t hurry away, instead, standing
apart from me in the narrow hall, watching me, giving me space. Giving me time.
I remembered the way Bethany had healed Bruiser from the dead. She had been more than
half naked, sitting on top of him in Katie’s office, giving him her blood, her essence,
to bring him back from the dead. I wanted to be angry at him for his subsequent betrayal—okay,
I wanted to hit him so hard my fist would pop out his back—but I knew what vamp blood,
especially large amounts of vamp blood, could do to a human. “You know, if the vamps
and their pals would tell me what was going on and I didn’t have to fly by the seat
of my pants all the time, I’d make fewer mistakes. Like maybe I’d have carried the
Enforcer I shot into Grégoire’s room and made him heal him. Instead, he’s dead.”
“Had Grégoire’s blood-servants known the man you shot was going to die, and had we
known he was a valuable blood-servant, and had we known his master was going to attack
so many other masters, the man would still be alive.” Bruiser’s face softened and
something odd sifted through me. He was being kind. “You did the best you could with
the information you had, Jane. So did we. No one knew that you had hit an artery with
your second shot. No one knew he would bleed internally. None of us could read the
future or delve into the heart of an enemy. Don’t carry guilt that isn’t yours.”
I stared up into his eyes as he spoke, trying to remember to be angry at him, unsettled
by his kindness. But after all the events and memories of my own, that was hard. Instead
I just felt . . . more empty, if that was possible. Bruiser cocked his head at me,
as if trying to read my thoughts. He looked younger, leaner than only a few days past,
and his skin glowed with health. The amount of vamp blood he had ingested had given
him back ten years. I wanted to smooth my hand along his cheek, just to see if his
skin really was as velvety as it looked. I also still wanted to belt him a good one.
I curled my fingers around my cell and shook my head. “None of you ever leads a normal
life, do you?”
“I bloody well hope not,” Bruiser chuckled, his British tones leaking through. “Normal
is short, painful, and boring.”
“But if you were normal—” I stopped, having almost said,
If you were normal you wouldn’t have had to watch me being forcefully fed on
. But I had been normal once, and I’d watched my father killed and my mother raped.
Being normal was no proof against horror.
Bruiser reached out a hand and touched my face. “If I were normal, I’d be dead by
now, love. I’d likely have never lived to see a moon landing or an intercontinental
flight, never had the chance to see the Russian ballet, or hear Pavarotti in his prime,
never lived to see the advent of the electronic age. I’d trade normal for that any
day.” His smile widened. “And even if I’d lived as a
normal
man, I’d have been very, very old by now, and you’d have thought I was cheeky at
best, not charming and debonair.” I raised my brows as if challenging his self-description.
“You might have seen an old photograph of me and thought, ‘He was a good-looking chap
when he was young.’ But you’d never have let me kiss you, which I full well intend
to do again, just as soon as we get past this.
“But for now, I have work to do.” He kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them
to my cheek. “Later, love.” Bruiser turned and moved away from me, tapping on his
cell as he moved. I watched him go, my eyes moving down his body. He had a very nice
body and a perfect butt. It was one of his best attributes. And he was right: he wouldn’t
have been even slightly attractive to me if he was wearing dentures, a lifetime of
wrinkled skin, adult diapers, and was perched on an adjustable bed. He’d have been
a horny old man at best.
Love. He’d called me love. Twice. And then there was Eli, perfectly human and perfectly
delightful, with a nature that matched mine, and a set of abs that would make the
Madonna—the original Madonna—lust. And Rick. My heart twisted at that thought. Yeah.
Rick. I was so screwed up.
* * *
Leaving the guys to work and the vamps to worry, I climbed on Bitsa and headed across
the river and into the woods and wetlands. I pulled the bike off the road and hid
her in the brush. Bending over the front tire, I raked the gold nugget necklace across
the sidewall in lieu of a rock, and hoped it would work as well as a homing beacon
in case I got lost. I stripped, folded my clothes on the bike seat, grabbed my large
winter go-bag, my emergency mountain lion tooth, which I used to make shifting easier
and less painful, and walked into the woods a short ways, the soles of my feet protesting.
Shifting in the sudden cool spell meant more clothes to leave with the bike and more
clothes to carry with me, but I needed to get into my Beast. I was feeling uncertain
and edgy and Beast, well, Beast never had those feelings. She was all about hunting
and eating and sleeping. As long as there was food, she was happy. I needed some of
that simplicity, even if it was a bloody simplicity.
I sat on a log at the edge of a bayou, with my go-bag on my neck, adjusted to allow
for Beast’s neck girth. I was shivering, my skin pebbled, and my breath was blowing
white clouds. The waning moon was reflected in the black water.
I gripped the fetish tooth with both hands, and tried to find some sort of peaceful
mind-set. I usually needed to meditate to have a less painful shift, though lately
I wasn’t as picky. In fact, I’d shifted in some really unusual places and emotional
states.
Holding the tooth, I closed my eyes. Listened to the plink of water moving across
the earth, the susurration of the wind, the beat of my own heart. Beast panted inside
me, ready, eager to hunt, more eager than she had been since she came into contact
with an angel. I still didn’t know the outcome of that encounter and from her reticence
about the subject, might never know. Beast wasn’t talkative at the best of times,
and had become downright closemouthed about Hayyel and what changes the angel had
wrought in her.
I slowed my heart rate and let my muscles relax. I stretched out on the log, shivering.
I sank deep inside, my consciousness falling away, remembering only the fetish tooth.
The notes of a wood flute, soothing and mellow, like the one on the CD player in Aggie’s
sweathouse, filled my memory. I smelled the cleansing herbs of a smudge stick, and
I dropped deeper, into the dark within. The place of the change within me seemed bigger
inside than I remembered, more hollow, a large cavern branching off into other dark
places. It had a sense of far-flung echoes and the resonant plink of distant water.
As I had been taught so long ago, I sought the inner snake lying inside the tooth’s
root, the coiled, curled snake deep in the cells, in the remains of the marrow, the
DNA peculiar to all animals on earth. For my people, for skinwalkers, it had always
simply been the inner snake.
I dropped down into it, like water flowing through the bayou, like gators swimming
in long, swirling water-glides. Grayness enveloped me, sparkling and cold; the world
fell away.
My breathing deepened. My bones slid. Skin rippled. Pain, like a scalpel, slid between
muscle and bone. My spine bowed hard.
* * *
My nostrils widened, drawing deep. I gathered paws under me, ear tabs flicking, listening,
scenting. World was bright with greens and grays and silvers, the colors of night
to big-cat eyes. Clear and sharp. I yawned widely and chuffed. Jane had left steaks
back at dead, not-dead Bitsa. Jane was tricky. Wanted me to take tooth back.
I stood and stretched through belly and spine, back legs and front legs, paws flexing
into old wood of log. I shook, pelt moving over body, loose. Predators had sunk claws
into pelt, and found no vital organs beneath, pelt sliding across instead. Beast had
killed other predators who thought they would win. Foolish predators.
Pack hunters
.
I lifted tooth in teeth and trotted back through pine trees to road and bushes where
Jane had hidden Bitsa from any
thieves of Bitsa
. Did not know why thieves would steal Bitsa. Could not eat Bitsa. No blood, no bone.
I did not understand. I dropped Jane’s tooth on top of the pile of clothes and sank
to ground beside cow meat. Sniffed. Meat smelled old and watery, not hot with blood
and fresh with chase. I ate anyway. Cleaned up all blood with tongue and lay, belly
to ground. Groomed mouth and paws, satisfied, listening to night. I heard something.
Tilted ears. Felt through ground on belly, heard through air. Stampstampstamp. Knew
that sound. Stood slowly. Opened mouth and pulled in air over scent sacs in mouth,
with long, soft
screeeee
of sound. Smell came on wind, strong. Big prey. Much good meat.
Beast?
Jane said, waking in mind.
I didn’t answer. I padded into wind, testing, tasting, feeling vibrations with paw
pads on ground. Big prey. I found good place to watch and leaped to tree limb hanging
over narrow path to water. Good place to hunt.
Ambush
.
Stampstampstamp, fastfastfast. Running, trotting, big prey. Only one. But big.
Waited for prey to come, paws tight under belly. Eyes on path. Small hooves got closer.
What is that thing?
Jane thought.
Huge black creature trotted into view. Boar. Big boar. Big teeth curling up from mouth.
It raced under limb.
Ambush!
Oh, crap,
Jane thought
. That thing has tusks. It has to weigh nearly a hundred pounds. You are
not
going t—
I leaped. Landed on boar’s back, claws gripping through coarse hair of stubby mane.
Killing teeth biting down at base of skull. Found only hard fat and muscle. Boar stumbled
with force of Beast, but did not fall. Screamed, pig scream. Started running. Raced
through scrub, Beast on back. Branches hit Beast.
Beast bit down again and again, shaking hard, tearing flesh. Spurt of blood. Hot.
Tasty. Boar bucked like horse, jumped high and twisted body. Beast held tight with
claws in boar haunches and shoulders. Bit down again. Boar ran, fastfastfast through
woods, screaming.
Boar ran under downed tree, resting across path. Log hit Beast in head. Ripped Beast
off boar. I fell. Boar spun. Squeal changed to sound of anger. Boar attacked. Shaking
head, Beast raced back along path and leaped high to stump of broken tree. Boar jumped.
Teeth and tusks ripped at Beast’s paws and legs. Boar was too close. Beast was not
able to leap or fall onto boar.
Boar stood up on hind legs and jumped high, tusks stabbing. Beast spun in midair,
long stubby tail spinning. Killing teeth caught boar under chin. Deep in blood-rich
flesh. Blood spurted over Beast. Hothothot.
Good
. Beast clamped down with jaws. Shook prey. Boar stopped squealing. Beast had boar’s
air pipe in killing teeth. Crushed down. Crushing. Crushing. Boar could not breathe.
Fell to knees. Hard. Pulled Beast off stump to ground. Beast stood over boar, could
see tusks near face. Smell of old blood and old vegetable. Rotting human food from
waste pile, grubs, and fungus. Pig food. Boar fell back, belly to sky. Beast followed,
holding, killing teeth clamped tight. Claws hooked in boar belly. Time passed. Beast
shook boar many times. Boar died.
Son of a . . .
Jane breathed hard in back of mind, thoughts full of fear.
You do know that if it ate you, there would be no way of coming back. I mean, it would
have killed both of us.
Beast did not reply. Beast tore into boar stomach and ate. Good tasty bloody hot meat.
Good pig-boar.
Beast is good hunter
.
* * *
Later, Beast cleaned boar blood off pelt and out of claws with rough tongue.
Vampires are like boars. And like kits,
I thought.
Yeah? How’s that?
Jane thought, her fear gone, her thinking calm.
Bad vampires need to be killed. Have much blood. But vampires who are good are like
kits. Need Jane.
Jane said nothing.
I stood and walked back to water, full belly heavy with meat. I drank at water’s edge
and stared at water, holding night sky in surface. I thought about Jane. Thought about
Leo.
I see leash in den in mind. I see chain. Leash put onto Jane by Leo. Leash is not
on Beast. I can break it.
Can you?
Jane sounded happy.
I walked to dark thing that was Leo’s cage inside Jane. Extended claws. And swiped
at chain of binding.
* * *
I found myself awake near the water, the sun’s rays just peeking over the horizon.
I felt . . . incredible. Leo’s compulsion was nearly gone. I could still feel it,
like a hard nut cocooned with spiderwebs in the back of my brain, but it was smaller,
more compact, less diffuse. A couple more shifts, and it would be totally gone.