Beast moved. Fastfastfast. Grabbed Alex left-handed and spun-tossed him out of harm’s way. He was still in the air when an object flew through the window. I/we leaped. Beast and Jane in perfect concert. Caught it. Let it swing me around and in the same motion, threw it out a different window. Heard odd popping sounds. Identified the device only after it left my/our hand. Hand grenade. Just outside the window, it exploded. Debris peppered inside the room.
My hand went numb. Spelled? I thought. Alex landed, rolled down the stairs. Shouting. More popping. Gunfire. Bambi/Mike dropped to the floor for cover.
I/we rushed window the grenade came through. Soared out the opening, into the night. And saw Marco dropping toward the roof of the porch below.
Beast is fast. She took over. Twisted in the air, away from the light in the window.
Marco landed on the tin roof. Turned, fast as a blood-servant. A blur in the darkness. He raised a weapon. Fired at the window we’d just left.
Beast landed beside him. Fisted hand. Hit Marco on jaw. Uppercut. All weight and might behind single blow.
Marco snapped back. Fell from roof. To land on sand below. Beast is best hunter!
I/we whipped back. Caught edge of porch roofing. Metal and wood. Extended claws. Caught weight. Swung inside to porch, landing on railing. Man standing there squeaked. Everyone was down on floor. Taking cover.
Thanks, I thought to Beast as she gave me back my body.
I jumped the final distance to the sand and knelt beside the limp form of Marco. He was breathing. I grabbed his arm and rolled him over. Knee at his back. I tried to trap his arms, but my hand didn’t work.
I heard the individual, particular percussion of Eli’s feet on the steps, flat-out run, three stairs at a time. Smelled Eli. A nine-mil and handful of zip strips entered my field of vision.
“Can’t,” I breathed. Holding up my hand and arm.
Marco came back to consciousness and shook himself like a dog. Started fighting again, or trying to. Eli took over and strapped Marco’s wrists together. Not as easy to do as it sounded, with a screaming, punching, crazy blood-servant, one with broken legs from his fall, beneath him. One-handed, I banged his head on the ground, maybe harder than was necessary, to subdue him. Eli strapped his ankles together above his boots with heavy-duty zip strips.
When he was restrained, I removed Marco’s weapons. Everything. Down to the silver stake strapped to his calf.
I sat on Marco, breathing hard. Lip dripping. Blood all over my casual clothes, dang it. “How did he get free? How did he get up to the third floor?”
“My fault,” Derek said, stumbling out of the darkness, the stink of his blood on the air. “I thought we had him contained at the LZ. Son of a bitch got free. Pulled a move I haven’t seen since the military, and faster than shit. Hit me over the head. My guys are down too. Alive, but out.” He sat down hard on the sand, as if he was dizzy. Blood dripped from his nose and the back of his head, and curdled into his collar. With my good hand, I pulled him forward and inspected the wound. “Ow,” he said, jerking away, only to grab his head again, the stink of his nausea acrid on the air.
“Concussion,” I said. A human would have needed stitches and a dark room and concussion protocol. Derek had been drinking powerful vamp blood. He’d likely be fine.
He said, “There are fire escape ladders built in beneath some of the windows. He must have used those. I’ll make sure they come out first thing in the morning.” He cursed, held his head a moment, and lifted a hand to the house and the workers congregated on the porch. “We need lights in the LZ, now!”
In the distance, the sound of rotor blades cut the air. The helicopter was closing in on the unlit landing site. I felt more than saw people rushing out to the landing area. Lights came on. A generator roared, concealing the sound of the helo. Bright lights sliced the night, illuminating the landing site. LZ. Landing zone. Right.
“Alex. You okay?” Eli called.
“Jane broke my tablets,” Alex said from the front door. “And maybe my nose.”
Eli glanced up at his brother. “No, she didn’t.”
“No. But she could have,” he said sulkily as he clunked down the stairs to us. “Jane wasn’t playing nice when she threw me down the steps.”
“Big-cats do not play nice,” Beast said through my mouth, her voice growly.
Both Youngers went still as stone.
I swallowed Beast back. “Sorry. But my arm is broken. I grabbed the grenade he threw in the window and then I hit Marco with the same arm. I think the grenade was spelled.” I held up my arm. My lower arm bent to one side then the other.
Eli looked it over. “Dang, Janie. Now, that’s a broken arm. Comminuted fracture of both bones. Hey, you”—he pointed to a man on the porch—“go get my gobag.” The guy took off. “I’ll splint it,” Eli said.
“As happy as I am to provide a medical lesson in orthopedics,” I whispered beneath the sound of the helo and generator, breathless, “I’m about to pass out from the pain. I have to shift. I need privacy and I also need to check on Bambi/Mike.”
“Soon as we stabilize that arm we can get you back to the third floor to shift, killing two birds. Broken hand too,” he continued as he tucked my fingers into the waistband of my jeans to give it some support. “Stay put.” Eli bowled Marco up into his arms and over his shoulder in a rolling/rising, all-in-one move I’d seen him do before. He pointed to my swollen hand. “I’ll be right back to splint that. I mean it, Janie. Stay put.” Eli carried the attacker toward the landing zone, Alex on his heels, carrying one of Eli’s nine-mils.
“Stay put? I’m not your puppy dog.” Eli was too far away to hear me.
Derek chuckled and then retched, throwing up onto the packed sand.
The smell nearly did me in. No way could I stay put. I jutted my chin to the retching Derek and said to a passing carpenter, “Bring him in. Put some ice on his head.”
I cradled my arm and hand and crawled to my feet. I climbed the stairs to the porch, breathless, aching, passing the workers, trying not to hurl or pass out, as that would ruin my badass image. Right. I made my pained way up to the third floor, ready to shift into Beast and heal my broken arm, the big room last seen as I leaped out the window. Halfway up the last steps, the smell of blood met me.
“Eli!” I screamed. “To me!”
Bambi/Mike was on the floor, her blood in a wide pool. I knelt at her side. She was still breathing, but there couldn’t be enough blood left in her to keep her alive for long.
Eli tore up the stairs, took in the scene at a glance, and began shouting orders. “Hold the helo. Get Leo on the helo’s comms system. I need a med kit, now!” He went to work trying to stabilize Bambi/Mike with nothing except his bare hands, the stuff in his pockets, and pressure.
Alex repeated the orders, shouting. People boiled into the third-floor space.
A man landed beside Eli, placing an oversized red case on the floor and opening the latches with sharp snaps of metal and plastic. It was the T-shirted potbellied man from earlier, and he had a massive emergency kit. “I’m an EMT,” he said, already tearing packages. “Cut her clothes open. Tampons.” He handed Eli a handful of packages. “Leave the tail hanging out. Then Gelfoam. Don’t put the foam inside. There may be intravascular compartments. We don’t want to risk embolism.”
Eli didn’t bother to tell the guy he had field medical training and had used the products before to stop bleeding on the battlefield. He just ripped Bambi’s clothes and found three entrance holes, on her torso, lower abdomen, and left arm. He stuck a tampon in each. Rolled her over and shoved three tampons in each exit hole on the back. Pulled open the Gelfoam pads and placed them over the wounds. Sanitary napkins followed. He wrapped them in place with heavy sticky tape. The other guy tied a tourniquet on her arm and started an IV. Fast. I had EMT training too and recognized Ringer’s lactate, a plasma expander. It wouldn’t replace blood, but it would slow shock. Outside, the helo landed.
I settled to the floor. My pain unnoticed. Watching.
“Call for a medical chopper?” the potbellied guy asked. “They carry blood.”
“No time. Let’s get her to the helo. You can call it in on the way. You’re going with her.”
Two workers placed a door on the floor as backboard and they loaded Bambi/Mike onto it. Someone tossed a sleeping bag at them and they tucked it around the pale-as-death woman. And then I realized she was awake. Silent. Her eyes on Eli.
“I gotcha, Mike,” he said. “You’re gonna be fine.”
“Dying,” she whispered.
“No way. Leo himself will meet you onshore. His blood will heal you. I guarantee it. All you have to do is stay alive to the mainland. Got it?”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all. Piece a cake. Let’s get her to the LZ, boys,” he said.
Together they lifted the door and carried her down. And I was alone. I heard them race down and down and down the stairs and outside. Heard the helo’s rotors speed up.
Alone, I lay flat on the old flooring and cradled my arm. I tried to sink into the Gray Between, but it wasn’t happening. So much for anything Zen in my life. Beast. I need help.
Beast pressed down on my pain receptors and sent something like endorphins into my bloodstream, muting the pain. I’d never get all my clothes off. I’d have to shift clothed and I’d ruin the boots. What had I been thinking when I pulled them on? Boots at the beach?
I heard footsteps clattering back up the stairs, Eli being deliberately noisy, but stopping before his head rose above floor level. “You still human?”
“Sadly yes.”
“You need help getting your clothes loose?” he asked.
“Boots?” I asked.
Eli came all the way up and knelt at my side, studying my injuries. He had washed his hands, but he still had blood smears on his wrists. He shifted position and eased my boots off one by one, without shaking me and my broken bones. “I’m not a good second,” he said, as he removed the stakes and the knives in my boot sheaths and set them to the side.
I tried to smile. “You’re a great second. I could have just shifted, but I’d have ruined the boots. I like this pair.”
“You’re rough on the girly stuff. You’re rough on fighting leathers. I can’t think of a single piece of clothing you’re not rough on.”
“Lucchese boots,” I said promptly, waggling my toes at him.
Eli huffed in amusement. “Can you move your arm? Let me get to your waistband?” I supported and lifted the broken arm and hand. Methodically, he loosened my clothes. He said, “You can shift and your legs will slip out of the pants, but the shirt and jacket are pretty thick.”
“Cut ’em off me. I’ll try not to weep at the loss of my wardrobe.”
Gruffly, sarcasm in the tone, he said, “Good. I hate it when you whine.” Eli slid his arms around my back and shoulders and sat me upright. I gagged with the pain. He pulled a blade that looked sharp enough to shave with. “Good arm first.” He cut up the sleeves of the uninjured arm and across to the neck opening, though he left the lapel in place. He eased the jacket and shirt off the shoulder and peeled it toward my back. He started at the lapel on the injured side and cut through to the shoulder, before he pulled all the slashed cloth forward and created a modified sling with the cut clothes, placing them under my broken arm as support. He secured the messy sling with knots and zip ties.
“Ingenious,” I said. I was glad I’d worn ugly, heavy sports underwear for the weather.
“Of course.”
“You unhappy that you and Mike won’t be hooking up?”
“Oh, we’ll be hooking up, just not the way I planned. Though I may wait a bit. Hospital dates are awkward.”
I tried to grin at his small joke and winced.
“I heard you on the helo’s comms system. Brief me.”
“Leo’s pissed. He’s on the way to the mainland LZ. He has two helos shuttling now. Someone will read Marco tonight. Leo will heal Bambi. Del is sending an armed team to check on the CEO of Madderson Construction—armed in case they were colluding or are in trouble. HQ is taking no chances.” Eli stood and walked back to the stairs, his feet silent on the old floors. Partway down, he stopped and his voice floated back into the vaulted room. “Edmund’s on the way too.” I hurt too much to respond. “Babe. Alex says you threw him down the stairs, out of harm’s way. He’s pissed at not getting in on the fight.” I said nothing. Softer, Eli added, “Thanks for protecting him.”
“My pleasure. Scoot.”
He went on down the stairs. And once again I sought the Gray Between. It was cool there, the lights silvery gray with darker gray motes shooting through. My own magics, the ones now moving in a star pattern inside me, expanded.
The shift started. Pain slammed through my arm. Claws ripping my skin. Nails being driven into my broken bones. Painpainpain . . .
Woke up tangled in Jane clothes. Pants and inside pants and cut shirt and stupid tight inside shirt. Stupid human clothes. Scratched off cloth tied around front leg. Claws tangled in cloth. Snarled. Ripped off pants and inside pants. But could not get off inside shirt. Shirt Jane called jog and bra. Was stuck. Growled. Calling Eli. Eli did not come. Growled louder. Eli did not come.
Whistled kit call. Eli! Eli! Eli!
Eli did not come. Eli did not know kit call. Screamed kit call. Eli! Eli! Eli!
Eli called, “Jane? Beast?” Sounded afraid.
Eli should be afraid. Beast is best hunter. But Eli would laugh human laugh at sight of Beast in Jane bra. Growled softer. Thought about jumping out of window. Was hungry. Wanted to hunt fish in curling water, what Jane called gulf water. Water did not run one way like river water, but rolled everywhere, and to land. Was strange. But. Wanted bra off. Was too tight on Beast chest. Did not know why Jane wanted to wear bra. Growled again, uncertain.
“You planning on eating me if I come up? I have a raw steak.”
Beast’s ear tabs perked up. Eli has dead cow?
Beast padded to stairs, pawpawpaw. Smelled blood of dead cow on air. Warm meat. Stuck head around stair wall and saw Eli, sitting on stair with plate and small slab of meat. Alex sat on bottom stair with white-man gun and tablets, working. Guarding Beast’s den. Good kits. Good guard.
Humans with hammers made loud noises. Hurt Beast’s ears. Loud scream of saw hurt too. Snarled, showing killing teeth.
Eli went stiff. “Jane?”
Am Beast! Am not Jane!
“Beast? Okay. Beast. What’s wrong? Is it your arm? Didn’t it heal right?” Eli smelled of worry like mother big-cat to kits. “Can I look?”
Snarled again, but backed away. Eli would laugh. Beast would swipe him with paw, claws sheathed, and knock him down. And then eat steak.
“Oh.” Eli stood on floor, looking at Beast. Did not smell human laughter. Did not hear human laughter. Did not see human laughter on Eli face. Eli had warrior face on. No expression. Was good face. Eli set plate of raw meat on floor and pulled steel claw. “Want me to cut off the bra?”
Beast snarled harder. But Eli did not laugh. Beast padded closer. Sat, front legs straight, head high. Mouth open. Panting softly. Killing teeth showing through open mouth.
Eli stepped close, steel claw sharp. Eli put knees on floor. Started cutting through bra. “I’m sorry. I should have thought to cut the bra. My bad.”
Turned head and looked at Eli. Dark skin was shining. Black clothes were good for night hunting. Should take Eli hunting one night. Eli sawed. Bra came loose and Eli peeled bra down Beast legs. Bra was dead. Jane should kill bras.
Beast padded around Eli to plate and tore into food. Lay on wood floor and pulled cow part between cat feet and claws and ripped and chewed and swallowed. Was cow with water-blood, the way humans like meat, instead of fresh meat with thick blood. But was good. Beast finished cow meat and licked water-blood off of plate and off of paws, tongue cleaning pelt. Jane said Beast tongue was like paper made of sand. Beast had never seen paper made of sand.
Eli was sitting, watching. Beast butted Eli with head. Eli fell over. Beast chuffed with laughter. Beast rubbed head and jaw over Eli head. Made Eli smell like cow and like Beast. Was good smell. Eli made blowing sounds. “I’d say thanks for the love, but since there isn’t a shower on the island yet, maybe not.”
Beast chuffed. Trotted to open window. Stood with front paws on ledge and looked out. Moon was high. Not one-day moon. Not pregnant moon, big with young. But bright enough to see beach and water that curled like Beast’s tongue. Looked back at Eli. Chuffed. Looked out at night. Back at Eli. Eli did not move. Stupid Eli. Looked out and back and chuffed.
Eli’s face scrunched. “You want me to go with you?”
Beast made small sound of pleasure, like when kits first walk. Leaped out window and down. Landed with thump on porch roof. Looked back up. Eli was at window.
“Gimme a minute. I’ll be right there.”
Beast made happy sound again. Stupid humans did not understand different chuffs but understood other sounds. Beast leaped to ground, paws stretching out and landing in deep sand, front paws first, then back paws. Padded through shadows to beach. Smelled salt. Dead fish. Salty water. Could see far up both sides from house. Beast liked beach. Sat and waited for Eli. Could see many small fish in edge of water, near small dock. Could see bird floating on water, sleeping. More birds under low trees onshore. Bigger fish in deeper water? Looked at house. Eli was racing down steps into night.
“Jane?”
Chuffed. Am Beast. Not Jane. Eli is stupid kit. But Eli was kit for Beast to take care of. Did not know if Eli could swim. Beast did not like water, but Beast could swim. Could catch fishes.
“Oh. Hey, cat. Water looks good and cold. I’m for a dip if you are.”
Beast chuffed. Yes. Cat. Beast. Not Jane. Eli pulled off outside clothes and raced into water, two legs splashing loud. Made sound like owl, like hoooo, at cold water. He dived. Started swimming with head in water. Looking for fishes! But scaring off fishes with arms in air, splashing down onto water. Beast padded into water that curled and rolled and curled again and went nowhere. Slid deep, spread paw pads and swam into water after Eli. Water was cold. Felt good on Beast coat.
Eli dove deep to catch fishes and missed. He came up out of water with many splashes. “That’s either freezing or refreshing,” he shouted.
Beast was close by. Eli did not need to shout. Fishes were all gone. Eli was noisy kit. Would not eat fish today. Beast snorted through nose and licked jaw and muzzle. Eli splashed water at Beast and laughed. Beast chuffed. Silly kit. Swam to Eli and put paw on shoulder. Pushed down. Eli went under. Made laughing noises under water and swam away. Came up on Beast’s other side. Splashed Beast again. Dove. Eli was playing with Beast!
Played for long time with Eli, splashing and ducking and dunking. Then swam to shore and shook water from pelt. Eli was cold. Left Beast lying onshore to put on human clothes. And to watch new helo-copter-bird that was landing. “I gotta take care of business, Beast. Talk to you later.” Eli went to nesting spot for metal bird.
Beast crept, belly to sand, pawpawpaw, to sleeping birds beneath trees. Gathered paws close. And leaped! Grabbed two birds in paws. Feathers flew. Birds squawked death sounds. Other birds flew, screaming warnings, “Danger! Danger! Beast is here!”
Beast bit through necks of birds. Carried dead birds to edge of water to eat. Beast was best ambush hunter.
Sun had made sky brighter, and helo had flown away again, when Eli came back with clothes for Jane. Eli placed clothes under bushes, on soft sand. Beast wanted to make Jane wake up under bushes with spiky leaves. But Eli looked at Beast and said, “No playing games with Jane. She was hurting when she shifted.” Beast looked away. Eli was not cat. Eli was not good fish-hunter. Eli made splashes when he swam and scared off fishes. But Beast would do what Eli wanted. Sometimes Eli was kit. Sometimes Eli was littermate. Humans were confusing.
Beast stretched on sand and thought about Jane. Looked into snake at center of all Earth creatures. Jane’s snake was tangled like ball of yarn that housecats played with. Jane was sick from walking through time. Jane would die soon if Jane’s heart-snake did not heal. Beast would think on this. Beast closed eyes and let Jane become Jane.
I came to facing the sun, lying on sand, a chilly breeze blowing in off the water. I shivered. Except for the cold, my waking place was, for once, comfy instead of on prickly pine needles or lying in mud or staring into the maw of a hungry alligator. Beast’s sense of humor was peculiar sometimes. I figured I hadn’t been Beast long, since I hadn’t been awake inside her body. Or Beast had been doing something catty and evil that she didn’t want me to know about, and so kept me asleep. It was a peculiar part of our relationship that she could keep me unaware of her activities when we were in cat form, but I had almost no control over her when in human form. I figured it was because of the decades we spent as cat, Beast in total charge of us, when I first accidentally did black magic and stole her body and soul. I shoved my hair out of the way in a sleek shush of sound, rolled to my knees, and brushed sand off me, checking out my arm and hand for bone placement. They looked okay, healed nicely. Pain all gone.
Someone had left a pile of neatly folded clothes on a towel. Thoughtful. Eli for sure. I dressed in sweatpants and shirt and slid my feet into flops, folded the towel, and slung my hair back. Trudged to the house. I passed yawning men and women, some carrying hard hats, some not, all looking tired, all carrying travel mugs and slurping down coffee as if it was the nectar of life. I smelled bacon and eggs and maple syrup and honey and grape jelly and I found myself racing up the stairs and into the house.
Eli held up a platter full of food and indicated a sofa with a low table in front of it. I hated to sit on the moldy sofa, but I wanted the food. I sat and dug in. And it was delicious. A platter of bacon, a dozen eggs, and a stack of pancakes later, I sat back and accepted a mug of tea from Eli. He was watching me with amused affection.
“What?”
“Beast and I went swimming last night.”
“Beast hates the water.”
“She played ‘dunk the human’ with me. She swims pretty good.”
“Hmmm.” A playful Beast was a rarity. Or maybe she was cat-spiteful only with me. “Okeydokey, then. Where is Alex?”
“Busy with his tablets, talking to Bodat on the mainland. They have communications, if only between the two of them.”
I nodded. “Update.”
“Painting will begin around ten on the third floor, soon as they can get the place tented to keep the overspray off the beams and rafters and floor. Second-level bathrooms are being tiled from floor to ceiling and the fixtures will go in this afternoon. Shower on the lower level will be ready by dark and the workers have drawn straws for the order of testing out all three showers.”
I leaned back on the smelly sofa and stretched out my legs, crossed my feet at the ankles. I’d eaten so much my belly looked like I’d hidden a soccer ball under my shirt. I patted it. And burped softly. “Who’s the cook?”
“Leo sent us Deon last night.”
“Deon? As in Katie’s Deon? As in wears spangles and glitter and way better makeup than I do?”
Eli’s lips twitched as he sat on a wooden rocker across from me. “He’s managed to proposition every other man on the job site. Some of them are uncomfortable, but since he’s feeding them they aren’t griping. Much.”
“Okay. But if any of them try to hurt Deon there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Noted and already passed along. The walls on the second level that are ready for paint will be sprayed this afternoon in an eggshell color. The ones that have to be redone later due to insufficient curing time for the joint compound will be sprayed in a medium charcoal shade to minimize obvious wet and to make them easy to find when the fighting is over.”
“Good thinking.”
“We have about half of the cameras in place. Alex and two hardware specialists are creating a satellite and Wi-Fi network across the island that will be linked to George’s boat. Or to a satellite. They’re arguing. Don’t ask me details. I didn’t understand one word in three.”
“Don’t worry. And spare me the technical stuff.”
“A barge with supplies and carrying furniture to replace the old shabby stuff is on the way. George’s boat will arrive this afternoon late and will be anchored offshore, with a johnboat ferry.”
I said nothing and Eli grinned. And waited. I scowled. “Fine. I’ll ask. Is Bruiser coming ashore then?”
“Yes, Bruiser is coming ashore then.”
“What about Marco?”
“One of Leo’s people drank him down. Julietta Tempeste sent him and his Blood Master to the home of the CEO of Madderson Construction. The next day Marco was hired. Old man Madderson, whose construction company has done business with Leo for fifty years or more, is upset that he let Leo down, and also horrified that a vamp had access to his mind and will to that extent.”
“Bambi/Mike?”
Eli’s lips twisted down, just a fraction of a fraction, and I knew it wasn’t good news. “She didn’t make it. They were doing CPR on her when the helo landed. Leo turned her, according to her wishes in her sign-on papers.”
I looked away. If she survived the devoveo, the years of madness that a vamp went through after being turned, Bambi would wake up two or ten or twenty years from now, with a savage desire to drink down every human she saw. “Okay. What do I do?”
“Rest. Sleep as much as you can. Starting tonight we go on fanghead hours. As soon as the upstairs paint is dry enough, we work out. Practice swords,” he added when I looked puzzled. “You’re gonna Zen. I’m gonna beat your ass.”
“You can try.”
We fought and practiced and fought again all day, making plans to keep ourselves alive. We ate great food and lounged on the porch, we mounted cameras and tested them, and we even managed to nap. If there hadn’t been the Sangre Duello and our deaths hanging over us, it would have been fantastic.
Night breezes were blowing in through the open windows, carrying out the stench of paint and floor cleaners and other toxic stuff. I was stretched out on a leather upholstered bench, faceup, staring at the tongue-and-groove ceiling. My arms were out to allow my chest to move more freely as I was trying to remember how to breathe and I tried to suck in air to keep from asphyxiating. The padded wooden practice swords I had used to defend myself were by my sides on the floor. Sweat had pooled under me and ran off the leather seat to puddle beside them.
There were fifty of the benches, in ten different colors of leather, placed all around the third-floor walls. They had been offloaded from the barge as part of the staging furnishings. They were hard and stiff, but I might have to sleep here because I might never be able to move again. My hands and feet were tingling. I was pretty sure I was dying.
Eli fell to a bench beside me, stinking of sweat, trying to recover. Bruiser and the B-twins had worked us to exhaustion. My honeybunch moved to stand over us, sweating and blowing, trying to get his breath back. “You’ve improved vastly. And fortunately,” Bruiser said, “as challenged, you get to choose weapons.”
“Also, your second or your primo or your Enforcer may fight for you, and your primo is in great need of exercise,” a bored voice said. “He also has the ambition, and some say the skill, to best Grégoire as the finest swordsman in the Americas.” Edmund stepped from behind a roof support. “This,” he said with a delighted grin, “will be an epic battle.”
I managed a grin too, and then concentrated on surviving. Lying there, staring at the ceiling, I decided I wasn’t going to die. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not at this Sangre Duello at all. I had to stay alive. For my friends.
I was sitting on the sand as the sun rose, watching clouds roll in, dark and angry and filling up the horizon from the distant water to the vault of the sky. The waves had changed from soft and lapping to a high surf that sprayed me with salt and wet down my clothes and my braid. I was alone, resting, after studying the fight list, looking for weaknesses in the opponents and their fighting styles. It was what Beast called tracking, hunting prey, following spoor, finding tall limb over water. Ambush!
“It’s Fight Club,” I’d said to them all, “but with swords and knives. And we can cheat. Got it.” Except that, even with discussing the fighting weaknesses of Titus’s strongest vamps, I felt a creeping panic beneath my skin. I knew that people I loved were gonna die. People fighting challenges that were intended for me. And if Leo lost the final battle with Titus, and if I didn’t win my own fights, the witches in the United States would take on the EVs. They might win, but they’d more likely be killed in a massive paranormal genocide. My godchildren would die. At some point the military would take on the vamps, but likely not in time to keep the vamps from coming ashore. I had tried not to think about this. Tried not to emote about this. But the Sangre Duello was dire. This was the final battle against the EVs. The biggest, baddest uglies on the face of the earth, landing to kill us.
So I’d stomped off, to sit on the sand and stare at the dawn storm rolling in. In twelve hours the vamps would be here. Leo and his people first. Then Titus. And whatever vamps would try to kill us all.
Maybe at first my Enforcer, Gee DiMercy, or my primo, Edmund Hartley, would take my matches and defeat my enemies. And like the coward I am, I’d let them. And maybe they would win for a match or two or seven. But eventually, at some match with an older, better fighter, they would lose. One, or the other, or both, would be maimed or die. Because I let them fight for me. Eli had tried to explain rank to me. Had tried to tell me I wasn’t a grunt anymore, not frontline troops. The pep talk hadn’t helped.
Because after the best of the sword fighters were down, Eli would try to fight for me. He was looking forward to it, to facing battle again. So I’d disable him to keep him back. And then, while he cursed me for taking him out, I’d fight. And because we had worked our way up the lists, this would be the best fighter of them all.
Beast is best hunter. Beast is best ambush hunter.
I stared at the coming storm as the sky went darker instead of lighter with the dawn. Rain splattered on me and dimpled the sand. And Beast sent me a vision of tall branches and soaring rock faces, wet with rain, trees lashed by wind.
Beast whispered inside me, Half-form teeth and fangs and claws. And Beast will drink the blood of her enemies and eat their hearts. Beast is big-cat. Beast will rip out throats of her enemies.
And lead me further down the path of blood and death, I thought. Because I can’t figure out how to get off that path or how to change direction.
Or maybe the angel Hayyel will pop in and save me.
Right. Sure. Not.
Beast chuffed with amusement.
“Jane,” Alex shouted from the house. “See if you have a cell signal. If so, call someone onshore and see if you get through.”
I rolled over and dialed the number of Gee DiMercy. The call went through. And I gave my Enforcer directions, instructions, and, when he argued, orders. I’d developed the belief that Titus would betray the agreements whether he won or lost. And I had an idea how to defeat that.