Over the vehicle’s coms, Alex said, “Patching Wrassler through.”
“Wrassler to the Enforcer,” a raspy voice said. “Do you copy?”
Dread filled me and I remembered the sound of splintering wood. “Wrassler? Copy. Go ahead.”
“Katie and Bethany are gone. They fought us. They took Leo.”
The scent of shock and fear filled the SUV. “Casualties?” Eli asked.
“Four... four wounded.” Wrassler cleared his throat and I realized he had to be injured. “We have them with masters. Two might make it.”
Gently, in a New Orleans’ cant, Eli said, “Are you one who will survive, my brother?”
“It was touch and go. But I should survive.”
“We’ll find them,” Eli said. “We’ll bring Leo back.” He was promising what he couldn’t. Until I realized he hadn’t said Leo would still have his head when we brought him back.
“Thank you,” Wrassler said. “Out.” The connection ended.
Over coms, Alex said, “I haven’t found the group of EVs or Leo, but I have a visual of Brute staring at a surveillance camera outside Pat O’Brien’s near the corner of St. Peter and Bourbon Streets.”
“Staring at the camera?” I asked as I climbed over the seat and shoved Edmund across the center, behind Eli, stealing his position behind Bruiser. Ed gave a long-suffering sigh that also sounded amused. I just grinned, my oversized canines pulling at my lips.
“Directly at it,” Alex said. “Wait. He moved. Okay, I got him again on a traffic cam, trotting down toward Royal Street, toward the river. Now staring at a camera near an antique shop. Water’s up to his ankles. The river is over its banks, flooding over the railroad tracks. The storm is stalled north of us, dropping more rain, and temps are rising, melting all the sleet, which means runoff is higher. The drainage system is diverting it, but not fast enough.”
“Best route?” Eli asked, punching in a street map and navigation of the city on the SUV’s computer system.
“Traffic is minimal with the rain. Recommend you stay on St. Louis, to Chartres, and right onto St. Peter. Brute is speeding up. Dead run through the water, up past Jax to the top of the levee. Lost him.”
Eli gunned the motor and the heavy vehicle shoved water out of the way as we sped downtown, river side. All of us checking weapons, silent but for theclickandschnickandclackof guns. Edmund passed water to each of us and we hydrated. I pulled the Benelli and reloaded with silver fléchette rounds. Loaded the holder attached to the barrel.
Eli spun the wheel right and onto St. Peter Street. Muddy water from the river rushed down the street, flooding the lower level of buildings in the old Jax brewery. There were no lights in this part of town, the storm having unleashed its fury on the electrical grid. The night was thick and wet and threatening. Rain shattered through the darkness and pounded on the SUV like thousands of frenzied fists. We bumped over the railroad tracks and up across the grass to the top of the levee. Without waiting for the vehicle to stop, I shoved open the door and stepped into the rushing water, icy, above my ankles. My claws extended and pressed into the mushy, eroding soil. I pulled on Beast’s night vision and spotted Brute, downstream, fighting the debris-filled current. Someone in his jaws. Another form stood over him, ahandgun extended, firing at him. The gunfire was muted in the roar of pounding rain, rushing water, screams. Even in the darkness, it was clear the werewolf was badly wounded.
Close in, the mud-brown water was white-capped and boiling. I caught sight of a tree, moving in the current, faster than I could run, only a few feet out. It was bigger around than a whiskey barrel, its limbs broken and sharp. I raced through the overflowing river, slipping twice, knowing that if I fell in, I might be swept away.
About thirty feet out in the dangerous current, a small boat fought upstream. A familiar man was at the motor at the back, steering, muscling the boat against the current. Vamped out. Trying to get to shore but spinning in the flooded river. This was their getaway plan. Dumbasses.
The shooter aimed carefully at Brute’s head. I gathered myself and leaped. Twisted in the air and shoved forward with my feet, back with my body. The shooter fired a last shot at Brute. The werewolf staggered and fell on top of the person in his teeth. I landed on the shooter with both paws. Screaming. Took him down. Removed his head with a single cut of the vamp-killer, seeing only afterward that I’d killed a human. One of the Cardonas, Macario or Gualterio.
I fell to the water, rolled up from my hip, and engaged his brother, slashing with pure, instinctive strength, no finesse. Cut off his hand, his sword and fist dropping into the Mississippi. Swept beneath the waves. Took his head too, his body falling.
Behind me, someone fired. In front of me, people fell. I took a shot to my upper arm. Eli was gonna be pissed off when he discovered he’d shot me.
Beast shut off the pain receptors and I engaged a vamp, the man from the still shots who had brought Madam Spy to shore in a dinghy. I felt two cuts, midchest, the force and the cutting power decreased by the leathers. He was good. His arms were long and his reach with the flat swords was longer. I was sneaky, which beat perfect form anytime. I threw a vamp-killer. The hilt slammed into his face before the blade spun into the night. I followed it up with a slash across his throat. And then I was inside his reach. Pulled asilver stake and shoved it between his ribs and into his heart. He fell. I went after another vamp. And another. None I knew.
I sliced the wigged-out woman’s face, and she backpedaled into the river, where she fell beneath the muddy water. Where was Katie’s sister? Where was Katie? And Leo?
And then I saw him. Unconscious or true-dead. I fought toward Leo, Bruiser at my side. I blocked a sword, ducking a second strike. Falling against my honeybunch. Bruiser pushed me back upright and took on two vamps. I kicked out. Struck a knee. Felt the bones snap. Saw my opponent fall away. Saw Leo’s hand clench.
“Get Leo!” I shouted. “I’ll cover!”
Bruiser ducked under two swords striking and rolled to Leo. I pulled the Benelli and fired twice. Point-blank. Two vamps dropped into the mud. I fired twice more as Bruiser hefted Leo to his shoulder and raced from the battle, into the night.
I spun, seeing forms moving in the dark and the rain. I took two steps toward them.
Bethany leaped onto my back, wrapped her arms around me, and said, distinctly, “You are mine, Skinwalker.” She sank her huge fangs into my throat. I smelled Leo’s blood on her breath. Her fangs ripped through my flesh. I fell. Toward the water. Toward a long limb that spun in a mini whirlpool.
Inside me, I heard Bethany’s voice.You are mine. I claimed you before my Leo did. I claimed you before the angel did. I claimed you long before the Cherokee woman showed you the place you call your soul home. I claimed you before my George chose you in my place. You are mine.
