Black Arts

CHAPTER 11 Decide. Now.

I walked out the door, into the hallway, Eli on my heels. The door shut behind us as Bonamassa sang the line “I’ll be coming home.” My second stayed silent until we reached the women’s locker room. He pushed open the door and followed me inside. The room was long and narrow, with lockers down both walls and plain wood benches down the middle. Showers and toilets were on the far end. The music played here too, sultry and painful, but soft enough that we could talk. When the door shut I asked, “You think you should be in here?”

“I don’t give a rat’s aaa . . . ear for what the sign on the door says. Sit.” He pointed. I sat. Eli laid out all my weapons on the bench beside me and checked out the room. I checked out my hands and feet. Human again. Mine. Satisfied with our privacy, Eli brought bath cloths and towels from a set of metal shelves in the back, one of which he wet in the sink and wrung out. “We’re alone. Lemme see.”

He pressed gently on my ribs, which hurt, but nothing was broken. He raised my arms, one by one, inspecting shoulders, elbows, wrists, hands. “Face,” he said. I lifted my head. With the damp cloth, he wiped up the worst of the blood and tossed the cloth aside. He pressed a clean, dry one gently against my lips, blotting the blood on the outside and giving the still-flowing blood a place to clot. The pressure increased, and he placed a palm on the back of my head to give my neck a rest. I huffed out a breath and leaned into him, letting him hold my weight.

“Leo can heal this,” he said. “I’ll get him if you want.”

“I’d rather die,” I mumbled against the cloth. Eli chuckled, the sound sympathetic. The blood throbbed in my mouth. I was feeling that same throb of misery work through my whole body as the adrenaline stopped pumping and the fight-or-flight chemicals began to break down, making me nauseated. The door opened. I nearly fell as Eli moved. He was holding a weapon in each hand, both mine, grabbed up from the bench.

Edmund entered. He stood to the side of the door, his hands clasped before him as the door closed, his posture one of submission. “My master suggested that your wounds might need attention. I am to offer myself.”

I caught the cloth as it fell away from my lips. “Tell me, Ed. Would you offer yourself if Leo hadn’t sent you?”

The former blood-master smiled, the movement of his lips slow and measured. “Oh yes. As just reward for that.” He cocked his head toward the sparring room. “It was a thing of beauty to behold.”

“Especially the part where she beat the shit outta Leo?” Eli challenged.

“Especially that,” Ed said, “though not quite so crudely phrased.”

I laughed but stopped as the movement of my lips shocked me with pain. Fresh blood welled and fell down my chin. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks,” I said.

Edmund sat beside me, one finger pressing one of Eli’s naked blades away, and deliberately nicking his finger on the tip. Blood brimmed on the fingertip, and Ed touched it to my lips. The pain was instantly gone and I shivered with relief. He moved the finger across my lips, gently, rubbing slowly. Vamp blood merged with mine, and the healing moved lower down, warming me, making me want, as vamp blood always did. I opened my eyes and stared into Edmund’s. He was watching me intently, his pupils wide, his own lips parted as his finger traced my lips. The vamp wasn’t inhumanly beautiful. He had been an average-looking Joe in his human life, his best feature his hair, which he had worn pulled back in a tail the first time I saw him. Now it fell around his face and shoulders, an ash brown so fine it looked luminous.

Overhead the music changed to “Sloe Gin,” the guitar grinding sad, the kind of drunk-in-a-hotel-with-a-bottle-of-whisky-and-a-gun sad. Someone liked Bonamassa.

Edmund slid his hand up my arms to my cradle my face. He bit his lip and said, “I can heal the bruising. If you’ll let me.”

I knew he meant kiss me, mixing his blood deeper with mine, sharing breath. I hesitated, and Ed shook his head, amused. “I am under orders not to attempt to bind you or seduce you.”

“Yeah, that’d be smart. Three’s a crowd,” Eli said, “and I got these. Two big silver ones.”

If I hadn’t been hurting, I’d have groaned at the double entendre. Instead I lifted my hand in acquiescence and Edmund bent his head, easing my face to the side and letting his chilly lips meet mine. Despite his promise, the heat of seduction was part of vampire blood sharing. His heat swirled into me, rushing from his cool mouth through my lips, down to my bruised hands and sore wrists, circling my ribs and tightening my breasts. Pooling in my middle. Moving down my body. Pain vanished where the heat reached. I sighed into his mouth and he took my life force into his lungs, our breath mixing, becoming one thing, one breath, one life—as much as undead can share life. When I breathed in, our commingled breath fed me. And suddenly the pain was gone. Just gone. And there was only the warmth of his lips, flesh to flesh. Nothing of passion or need. Just healing.

Edmund eased back. My lids lifted and I opened my eyes, as I whispered, “Thank you.”

“No.” His eyes, fully human, and a light, hickory-nut brown, held mine. “My thanks to you. I have never tasted blood such as yours.”

The sound track had moved to “Black Night,” the guitar licks complex and amazing. Edmund stood and stared down at me. “My master suggested you might enjoy a shower before joining him in his study. A maid will bring you a change of clothes and clean out a locker here for you, to use at any time you might wish.”

“A shower might be smart,” I said. “Walking around a vamp house smelling of blood and fighting sounds pretty stupid.” I stood, feeling stronger, though I knew I’d be stiff in the morning. Even my skinwalker metabolism wasn’t proof against a vamp beating.

“How’s Bruiser?” I asked, and then clarified, “George Dumas.”

“He is well. The priestess saw to his shoulder joint. His Onorio blood will do the rest.” Edmund’s mouth turned down and he looked grim. “Things are changing in New Orleans.” With that bland, vague warning, Edmund Hartley left the locker room.

• • •

While Eli stood guard outside the door, I showered, using guest-sized samples of soap. Afterward, I slathered some lime-scented cream on my wet skin and dried off on the towels Eli had found. By the time I was done, the maid had delivered a change of clothes and taken my sweaty, bloody ones off to be laundered. I pulled on the undies, finding it mildly unnerving that Leo had my sizes on hand. It made sense, however. He paid for my formal wear, the fancy duds created by a wizened virago of a blood-servant who terrified me, but who made me look good in clothes that were made for soldiers—people who wear and carry weapons. So he might keep stuff here for nights like tonight. Or he might be having nefarious thoughts. I was betting on nefarious.

Beside the undies was a stack of black clothing—slim pants and a body-hugging, black silk, knit sweater. The sweater had a long turtleneck, which I didn’t usually care for, but the neck on this one was wide and rolling and fell around my collarbones. The pants were just plain stupid. Who needed a zipper on the side? It was hard to get zipped and made me twist like a pretzel before I got the zipper up and the tiny inside buttons done. But when I looked in the mirror, I could see how long, lean, and dangerous the slacks made me look, and the turtleneck did things for my boobs that were surprising. Yeah. I was still going with nefarious.

The black socks and slippers were so comfortable I might never want to take them off, but they’d be impossible to fight in. Back in the center area of the locker room, I dried and rebraided my hair, twisted it up into a bun, and stuck my stakes in to hold it in place. I also strapped on my shin sheaths and wrist sheaths. The blade that went on my thigh looked good strapped a bit higher than I usually wore it. I checked myself again and wished for lipstick. I looked stark and pale in all the black. I pulled my gold nugget necklace to the front and nestled it, and the mountain lion tooth I’d wired to it, into the folds. The glint of gold added a hint of color and brought out the amber of my eyes.

Beast wasn’t staring through my eyes now. No golden glow. She had hidden away since the fight. But she and I were gonna have a little talk later about how I was able to make use of Leo’s binding on her. Something was hinky here.

I composed my face and pushed out into the hallway. Eli was no longer alone. Wrassler stood with him, face expressionless, leaning against the wall; both guys seeming relaxed. “Are you here to throw me out or take me to Leo?” I asked. “Because I need to chat with the chief fanghead.”

“Yeah. He’s all excited about that,” Wrassler said, deadpan, pointing, indicating we should go to the elevator.

“Should I be worried?” I asked as we moved down the hallway.

Wrassler’s forehead lifted up into little rolls. “About what? You just wiped the floor with the second or third best fighter the Mithrans in the Americas have.”

“Who’s better?” Eli asked.

“Grégoire for sure. Maybe a couple others could beat Leo in a purely physical fight. But not if he drew on the power of the clans. Then only Grégoire would win. Maybe.”

I had felt Leo draw on the power of the clans before, the night Adrianna attacked me in the bathroom at a vamp party. It had been terrifying. Leo hadn’t done that tonight, so yeah, I had beat him, but really, if he’d used all his metaphysical weapons or his weapons of war, like if he had challenged me to a duel with swords or flintlock pistols, I probably wouldn’t have. Of course, if I’d brought my silver blades, and maybe a rocket launcher, Leo would have lost no matter what psycho mystical crap he might have pulled. It was all a matter of spin and possibilities and stuff that hadn’t happened. But physically? Hand to hand? I’d beat the MOC to the ground. Oh yeah. Satisfaction flitted through me mixed with delight. I wondered if Leo had been surprised about ending up on the floor, and looked forward to finding out.

The elevator closed on us. “How’s Bruiser?” I asked, wanting to confirm Edmund’s information.

“Healing,” Wrassler said shortly. His tone told me that he didn’t want to talk about it, but from the stiffness of his shoulders, I knew he wasn’t happy about something. “How often does Leo put on a show and beat up his people?” I asked.

Wrassler’s mouth thinned. “I’ve been here for years. Never saw or heard of it till tonight.”

“I see.” But I didn’t. Not really. Unless the show hadn’t been intended for me. Unless it was for someone else. Not Bruiser. He could have beaten up Bruiser anytime. So . . . someone else. Someone in the stands. Watching. And since he hadn’t drawn on the massed clan power, he had wanted that special someone to see his primo get beaten and then see him fight a skinwalker, win or lose. Even if he lost, it could work to his benefit. All without drawing on the power of the clans. He wanted someone to think he was a weaker master than he was. Maybe he also wanted that someone to think that Bruiser was out of favor. So he beat up his primo as part of some kind of vamp game? Interesting. Sick, but interesting.

Vamps had layers of plans piled up like sheets of snow and ice, some in the works for centuries. So maybe I was seeing one or two layers in the fight tonight. I just didn’t know the context. Or why. Or who. Or what was to come next.

Eli and I entered Leo’s office, walking through the wide entrance, Eli taking in everything. His shoulders tightened ever so slightly and I knew he wanted to look behind the tapestries on the walls, to make sure no one was hiding there. But even he seemed to know that might be kinda rude, because he forced his shoulders back down.

Looking awfully good for a guy who had just been beaten to a pulp, Leo was studying a printout while another page clattered in a printer in the open armoire. The rest of the armoire was filled with files, papers, and sheaves, and it smelled of parchment and ink, a lot like Leo himself. Inside me, Beast yawned and stretched, watching Leo through my eyes, like a well-fed and satisfied cat, lazy and taking no action. Moving slowly, Leo pulled the printed page, added it to the ones in his stack, and turned them facedown. He shut the armoire door and spun his modern chair to face us. “Sit, please,” he said. We sat in two of the three chairs in front of the desk, and he said, “Report.”

I gave him an update on the security status of vamp HQ, in preparation of the gather, and finished with “We still have to go over the changes to parking area security, and we have two choices. We can let the limos drive to the front door and let off their passengers, then park on the street, or we can let them drive in back, park, and get out there and walk in. Parking on the street is safer for us and can be arranged with NOPD, but that means no privacy from the press and telescopic camera lenses. The second is way less formal and parking in the back means we could have a car bomb or other device in the backyard.”

Still moving slowly, Leo put his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers, tapping his lips with them as he thought. And I realized he was moving, not just slowly, but stiffly. I smiled, feeling my lips pull up in wicked glee. Leo was sore. Go, me.

“Can you get access to a bomb-sniffing dog?” Leo asked.

Still smiling, I narrowed my eyes and Leo inclined his head. I had suggested a bomb-sniffing dog once already and been denied. “I am sure one can be borrowed from the Federal Aviation Administration or NOPD or some other local law enforcement.”

“Excellent. Then we will direct all vehicles to the back until the lot there is full. Any latecomers drive through, let off passengers, and then park elsewhere. Security from the other clans can patrol the outlying areas, freeing Derek and his crew and my own clan security crew to patrol inside the council house. There will be no need to involve NOPD.”

Behind him and to the side, the door opened and Adelaide entered, carrying a tray with a teapot, a coffee carafe, and cups. Del, a lawyer, doing waitress service? And then I saw the marks on her neck, tiny, nearly hidden by the high collar of her shirt, but there. I took a slow breath, and over the vamp scent of Leo and the strong odors of the beverages, I smelled human blood. My hands clenched. Leo had fed from her and was now, likely, breaking her in.

I stood and took the tray from Del and set it down, and as I rose, I took her wrist, stopping her from pulling away. She stared at my hand on her arm for a long moment before meeting my gaze. “I’m fine,” she said, no emotion in her voice.

“Reading my mind?”

“No. I know you. You’re worried about me. You’re worried about Leo using me.” Her eyes were a cornflower blue in the lamplight, matching the tiny flowers in her shirt. But she didn’t look worried or afraid or sad or abused. She looked . . . shuttered. Closed. Detached. Determined. I couldn’t read anything more specific. “Leo and I have come to an agreement,” she said.

“What kind of agreement?”

She looked pointedly at my hand and I released her wrist, sitting on the edge of my chair. “He has tasted me. He knows I don’t have an agenda regarding him. He knows his home, his office, and his body are safe from me. He is satisfied. And he will not demand a sexual relationship with me.”

“What makes you so special?” I asked. Leo always demanded to sleep with his people. He considered it a vamp perk.

“I threatened to sue,” she said in the same emotionless tone. She smoothed her skirt, giving me a chance to swallow my shock and the bark of laughter, which would probably have ticked Leo off. “After some discussion, he considered it likely that I would win,” Del went on, “and that such a lawsuit would bring unwanted attention.”

Leo raised a single imperious eyebrow at us, probably for talking about him as if he were not in the room.

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”

A slight smile, one that would have done Eli proud for its minimalist style, found her lips. “We are now discussing the end of his demands on his female servants and scions. He was unaware that such practices are antiquated”—she glanced at Leo and her smile widened—“and against the law.”

“Enough,” Leo said. He pointed to the other chair. “Sit.”

“Of course,” Del said. And suddenly I got it. I beat Leo on the workout floor, but it was really Adelaide Mooney who was beating him senseless. Who’da thunk it? And go, Adelaide!

“I now will accept questions,” Leo said.

I blinked in surprise. He would? “Uhhh . . . ,” I said. Great rejoinder.

Eli said, “Why did you beat your primo to a pulp? Just for starters.”

Leo held the Ranger with his eyes. “My primo has been acting contrary to my needs. He has placed another’s needs before my own.”

“And?” I asked, feeling that there had to be more to it.

“Onorios cannot be bound,” Leo said simply.

It hit me hard and fast. Bruiser had told me he was free of Leo. Bruiser had told me a lot, but I hadn’t put it all together. Onorios were rare, nearly impossible to make, and were considered free agents, as well as highly valued. They could stay with a master, but they couldn’t be forced to do or be anything. And their master had a dickens of a time reading their minds. Which meant that Leo would be looking for a new primo and a new Enforcer. And I realized that Enforcer likely meant me. “No.”

“I was not thinking of you, mon petit chaton avec les griffes, though I will have you assist in his training when he is chosen.”

“Yeah.” He’d called me that in the fight, and I had no idea what he was talking about, but I also wasn’t going to ask. “Right. Okay. My turn. Adrianna attacked my house. What do you know about that?”

Leo’s head went to the side. “Really?” He drew out the word into multiple syllables. He hadn’t known, which gave me all sorts of relief. “The enemies of my Enforcer sew dissidence in my ranks. I will deal with this.” He nodded at Adelaide. An electronic tablet appeared from a pocket as if she were some kind of prestidigitator, and she made notes.

“My friend Molly Everhart is in town and is missing,” I said. “I left you a voice mail. You didn’t answer. Do you know where she is?”

“The witch,” Leo said, sounding bored.

“Molly was taken from her hotel room by three vamps I didn’t recognize.”

“You saw these Mithrans?” He looked interested.

“No,” I said flatly. “I smelled them.”

Leo nodded. “Scent is much more difficult to distort and hide. The witch is of no concern to me unless she encroaches upon what is mine. And no. I do not know where she is.” Since Molly couldn’t do anything to Leo, that seemed to eliminate her from the MOC’s threat list, but I had hoped for a proactive approach. On to other topics while I had the MOC’s attention. “Adrianna attacked my house. And two of Katie’s girls are missing—Bliss and Rachael. They disappeared after a vamp party at Guilbeau’s, on their way to a party at Arceneau Clan Home. Did you know all that?” Leo’s head lifted, his eyes intent on me. I had a feeling I had surprised him again. “They left with two others, in a chartered black cab limo, and one was a redheaded female. Behind them, tailing them, was a personal limo, with a male in back. He had a narrow beard.” I drew it again on my jaw. “And what might be a gold earring.”

Leo’s eyes went unfocused, but I had a feeling a lot was going on behind them. “Shoffru,” he said.

“Could be, yeah. Jack Shoffru.”

Suddenly I was in Leo’s sights. It was a little like having a couple of blazing torches pointed at my eyeballs. Not comfy. “What do you know of Jack Shoffru?” he asked, his voice curious, silky with threat.

“Not much.” I filled him in on the little I knew, and ended with “He knew Lafitte. And since he hung out in New Orleans in the seventeen and eighteen hundreds, you probably knew him.”

Leo’s face took on an expression of mild disdain. “We did not travel in the same social circles.”

A pirate was beneath the Pellissiers. Got it. “So far as I know, his sire and original clan are unknown.”

“Few mongrels know their sires.”

I grinned, but before I could say anything snarky back, Leo said, “Research his ships. As I remember it, Shoffru and his partner captained two of Lafitte’s fleet, the Ring Leader and the Lady’s Virtue.”

Oddly enough, something about the names of the ships were familiar, but I couldn’t place them.

Leo nodded slowly, thinking, his face creased in concern, an expression he seldom showed to the world. “It is difficult to know how to treat with Adrianna. When I first knew her, she was a vivacious beauty.”

“When I first knew her, she had been working black magic with the Damours,” I said.

Leo didn’t flinch, nothing so human, but something crossed his face. Maybe longing, maybe remorse. He said, “I was powerless to stop them, the Damours. My uncle had signed a . . . a treaty of sorts with them, to leave them alone as long as they left him and his alone. After he found true-death, I was still bound by that contract. Until you came and freed us of it.”

I sat back. Thinking. Blinking in the light that suddenly felt too bright. “So you didn’t go after the Damours because you couldn’t—” I stopped. Leo had used me to break the treaty with the Damours and kill them for their crimes. I hadn’t been his Enforcer back then, which had given me opportunity he hadn’t had. “You sneaky bastard,” I muttered.

Leo inclined his head, a small smile easing the pain on his face. He looked, in that moment, nearly human. “I have been called that. And worse. Though I assure you, I was legitimately conceived and born.”

I waved away the comment. “Okay,” I said, knowing I’d need time to digest all the knowledge he had just given me—freely—which meant there was a hidden cost somewhere, because vamps did nothing without a price tag attached. There was a lot of info I didn’t have yet, but I decided to address this again later when I had my questions in line, and changed the subject from the past to the present. “And the girls missing? And Adrianna?”

Leo shook his head slowly, but I could tell he wasn’t happy with the conclusions he was drawing. “Adrianna is declared outlaw. None may assist her, none may shelter her. Her blood-master has agreed that she is to stand trial when she is located, and will be given to the sun should she be found guilty.”

I let that settle into me, not feeling anything. I probably should have felt something. Sorrow for her loss of undead life. Satisfaction that an enemy would be gone. Something. But I didn’t feel anything, and that bothered me. I’d have to think about that later, along with all the other things I was stuffing into the dark inside me. I went back to the problem at hand. “So, if Jackie Boy’s a Mexican MOC, why is he here, in your territory?”

Leo leaned back in his chair, his elbows on the padded leather arms, his fingers again steepled in front of his mouth. I could smell the leather as he moved, rich and earthy with tannins; I bet he paid a thousand bucks for the chair. “Shoffru is to be presented at the gather. Tomorrow night.” I sat forward. It was nice to get some specifics. “Among others, he has applied for sanctuary in New Orleans. He claims that the drug cartels have placed his clans in danger and he wishes to relocate. What would you think if a Mithran requested such a thing?”

“I’d wonder if he was relocating here so he could have a base of operations to expand a drug cartel of his own,” Eli said. “And maybe wanting access to a nearby U.S. military base. If he has delusions of grandeur.”

Leo gave an approving flutter of his fingers. “That possibility has been under consideration. Upon the basis of that argument I have requested an investigation by the human authorities—undercover, of course—into his finances, plans, and his current situation in Mexico.” Leo looked at me. “I believe that he intends to make my lands a permanent base of operations.”

Oh, crap. “You think he might challenge you,” I said.

“Of a certainty. Eventually. First, he will apply for sanctuary and offer me fealty. Should the Drug Enforcement Agency and the Federal Bureau of Investigation and other law enforcement agencies not discover reasons to the contrary, I will accept. Once he is ensconced here, he will apply for blood-master of the Shoffru clan. I can hold that off for a time, but eventually I must accept. At some point thereafter he will challenge me.” Leo shrugged. “Or I can kill him now and avoid all the wretchedness.”

“Ah,” I said. I sat back too, keeping my frustration off my face by an act of will, but knowing Leo would smell it on my skin next time he took a breath.

Eli looked back and forth between us. “What?” he demanded.

Better to meet it head-on, rather than let Leo think I didn’t know. “Shoffru,” I said to Leo, “is the reason I got to beat the crap out of you tonight. Which, by the way, was immensely satisfying.”

“As well as somewhat unexpected, mon petit chaton.”

I wanted to ask what the pet names meant, but that was a game I couldn’t win. If I asked once, he might just talk French more often to get a rise out of me. I grunted instead. “Shoffru was in the audience, wasn’t he?” I accused. Leo smiled, and I said, “I figured. You coulda beaten me to a bloody pulp if you’d drawn on all the clan members, but you didn’t want him to see you doing that.”

Adelaide nearly dropped her tablet, staring at Leo. And Leo looked totally nonplussed. “What? What’d I say?”

“You can draw on the clan members who swear to you?” Adelaide asked. Leo looked away, thinking. “All of them?” she persisted.

“What?” I asked. “Can’t all MOCs?”

“Some can draw on their own clan members,” Del said. “Some can draw on the clan blood-masters sworn to them. Not too many can draw power from all the members of all the clans in a territory.” Adelaide stared a hole through Leo. “Good Lord. That’s why George became an Onorio instead of dying or turning—because he’d been sipping your blood for a century. No wonder the European Council is so interested in you. Is there a distance limit on how far you can draw? How many you can draw from at once?”

Leo pursed his lips and shot me a narrow-eyed glance. Obviously I’d spilled some beans, and he looked irritated. Flying by the seat of my pants had, just like always, put my feet into it when I landed. And this time it was vamp politics and Leo’s secret that I didn’t know was a secret. I remembered the night he’d drawn on all the gathered. Power had prickled in the air like lightning, harsh and painful, rippling across my flesh like sharp teeth. And he’d not drawn all he could. And maybe not everyone there had understood what was happening. Maybe Leo’s power was—had been—partially unknown. “Oops?” I said, by way of apology. Eli breathed out hard, a huff that sounded amused, but said nothing. “So, that night you saved my life, and punished Adrianna for attacking me, you drew only what you needed to control them,” I said. “You could have drained them into true-death.”

The MOC held up his hand like a traffic cop, stopping me. To Adelaide he said, “Decide. Now.”

“I accept.”

I had no idea what had just happened, but Leo inclined his head and pressed a button on his desk. A tinny voice said over an intercom, “Yes, Mr. Pellissier?”

“Four glasses, and a bottle of the Chapoutier Cote Rotie La Mordoree 1990, please. And see that Quesnel allows it to breathe.” From the way Adelaide’s face went soft, I gathered it was an expensive wine, but I still didn’t understand what was happening. Leo smiled at her expression. “Are you familiar with wines, my primo?”

I nearly choked. Primo?

Adelaide said, “The 1990 has a saturated dark ruby-purple color, an amazing nose with copious quantities of sweet black fruits, warm new oak, flowers, and smoky bacon fat. To the mouth it has a superb concentration of flavors, a sweet, expansive texture, like butter on the tongue, and a . . . mind-boggling”—she paused, and licked her lips as if tasting it already—“long”—she smiled, her lips lifting slowly—“finish. I tasted it when it was young. I am honored that you open a bottle now.”

“What about Bruiser?” I asked, feeling the floor shift beneath me. I had known things were changing, but, this was . . . official. Too much, too soon.

“George is no longer suitable as the primo of the master of a city,” Leo said languidly, watching Adelaide. “He has made other choices and, as Onorio, has other duties.”

Adelaide was watching Leo back, her attention totally ensnared. And willing. And then I heard her description of the wine, as if it echoed from the tapestried walls. Crap. She was talking about a whole lot more than wine. So she would refuse his sexual attention while she was just sworn to him, one of the hoi polloi, but if she got the perks, she would add sex into the deal? Or maybe as long as it was her choice and not part of a contract, she was willing? Human women had always been confusing to me, even back in the children’s home. Del just took that confusion to new heights.

“You have other questions, my Enforcer?” Leo asked, not looking at me.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice too loud. “You knew about the witches disappearing in New Orleans, didn’t you?” I had Leo’s attention again and it wasn’t the hot and sultry look Del had been receiving. For me, his eyes were bleeding black, and his sclera were taking on a faint tinge of pink. Not that I cared. Fury for Bruiser and anger at all the freaking vamp games burned hot through my veins. I stood and leaned in to his stare. “And I bet you knew about the witches in Natchez and the way the vamps were rising as revenants—a different kind of revenant.”

I could see the truth on Leo’s face. He had known everything. He had known it all. And he had never done a single blessed thing to stop it or warn me or fix it or . . . I stepped from my chair. “And instead of warning me, you let me go to Natchez, unprepared, to deal with it.” A possible conclusion settled around my brain like a tourniquet. A headache started over my eyes and Beast hissed deep inside. Now I had the whole picture. “You were trying to find a way to keep from taking the problem to the European Council. You and your uncle before you were trying to keep the Council out of this situation and out of your territory for two hundred years. And to accomplish that, you signed and kept a contract with the Damours, let witches die by the dozens for centuries, and let Naturaleza in Atlanta and later in Natchez put witches into a circle and drain them slowly dry. You let them run a slave breeding ground in Chattanooga. You knew all about it. Everything.

“And”—I closed my eyes, letting the final picture come into focus—“you brought Adrianna back to life after I staked her because you thought she might know things you wanted to know. You kept her alive even though she was a ticking time bomb because she did know things.” I opened my eyes and met Leo’s. “And you let all that happen because you knew there were magical artifacts on these shores and you wanted them.”

Leo sat back in his chair. His power rose in the room, a slow, coiling draft of energy, familiar and spicy, like black pepper on my tongue, this time mixed with blackberries and anise, a strange combination that signaled anger to the hind reaches of my brain. I backed two steps and my knees touched the chair, but I stayed standing.

“The witches are my affair. You are not my adviser, nor my priestess; you are my Enforcer. It is a position of power and honor, which you claimed, and which I allowed even though, like George, you are not one to be bound. Within the confines of that position, you will not work against my policies, my strategy, or my needs. And I will have respect from you, Jane.”

I flinched and sank into the chair. He didn’t know that Beast was bound. From Leo’s viewpoint, everything I’d done, everything that had been done to me, had been a decision on my part or had led from a decision or choice I made. A court of vamp law might suggest that even the involuntary feeding and binding had resulted directly from the moment I had claimed to be Leo’s Enforcer. By claiming the position, I had tacitly agreed to be fed upon and bound. The Mithran version of a forced Vulcan mind meld had been the result. It had been an intimate violation. Not my fault. Not my fault, some small logical part of me stated.

It wasn’t my fault. It also wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t legal in a human court of law. But to a fanghead it was all that and more.

A memory flared through me, my body, flat on my back, held in place by the vampire priestess and Bruiser as Leo bowed over me, fangs extended. The pain as he ripped into me.

Not my fault. Not my fault. But that knowledge was not much help at the moment.

I had been such an idiot, and Leo had used my idiocy to his benefit. Though it might not be my fault, I hadn’t looked before I jumped, flying by the seat of my pants.

Adelaide reached over and took my hand. The contact was a shock, my hands like ice. “She doesn’t know, Leo. She doesn’t understand about the council and the witches.”

Which wasn’t what I was reacting to, but I wasn’t going to share my thoughts. Leo considered me, his eyes narrowed, his face still a thunderstorm. He took a breath he didn’t need and blew it out hard. “That is not a topic to be discussed tonight,” he said to Adelaide. “We have more immediate issues to resolve.”