Kemnebi has hunted in Beast territory. Kem left spoor. Challenged Beast. Beast must kill.
I thought how to explain the danger her plans presented.To kill Kemnebi outside of self-defense means Ricky-Bo would have to fight Beast. And Rick is PsyLED.
Beast stopped ripping flesh. Swallowed a large gobbet of meat from tail.Rick would fight Beast? Rick could become alpha over Jane? Put Beast in cage?
Technically yes.
Beast will kill Kem-cat where Ricky-Bo cannot find kill. Or in what Jane calls self-defense.Beast tore more food, thinking.What is self-defense?
If Kem attacked Beast in cat form, for no reason, and Beast killed Kem, that would be self-defense.
Beast licked her jaws. Flipped the tip of her own tail at the buzzards to show them alligator food was still Beast’s.Will think on self-defense. But will kill Kemnebi if Kem-cat comes onto Beast territory to hunt again.
I figured it was the best I was going to get.Okay.
Want to go home. Home to mountains.
I had nothing to say to that.
• • •
At dusk, I woke up in human form in a decent place, no mud, not lying in the middle of a dead gator, which I had halfway expected, and close to my SUV. That part was fortunate because Beast had spent so much time rolling in mud that the gobag was muddied through and through, including my clothes, which had somehow come out of the plastic zip bag. I had more clothes in the SUV.
Standing in the falling light, I dressed in the chill of early evening, feeling the familiar gnawing pangs of hunger. I could have gone back to the extra pair of flops in the mud, but I could also get them next time. Hunger helpedme decide on not going back into the swamp after the flops, though the thought that I was littering on my hunting grounds bothered me.
Dressed, warmer, I got in the cab, feeling pensive. There was a protein bar in the glove box. Three, actually. I ate them all without tasting them, which was likely a good thing. I could have bought Popeyes and now be eating cold fried chicken, but I hadn’t. Not poor planning, just... I hadn’t wanted to stop.
The drive back to the city was silent, the radio off, no music through the system. Thoughtful. Worried, just a little. About Beast. About Ayatas. About tonight and my schedule. It was full and it was all going to be difficult.
When I got home, I found a parking spot a half block down the street and walked to my door in the early dark, barefooted, carrying my muddy gear. Sniffing for the scent of lemons, the smell of werewolves. But the scents were the same as ever: food, urine, dust, mold, water on the muggy breeze. Because I was so close to Beast, I smelled him even before I got to my door. The floral scent of Ayatas.
He was still in my house.
Moving silently, I keyed open the door and slipped inside. The lights hadn’t been turned on in the foyer and there were enough shadows to hide in. I smelled Ayatas, Eli, Alex, Edmund, and Gee, pretty much the main members of my vampire clan and my maybe-brother. And the garlicky smell of Bodat. Their voices came from the kitchen and the living room. I moved into my room and showered off the remaining mud. Dressed in a long black skirt and jacket and a starched white shirt. I made up my face, going for dramatic, with black eyeliner and lots of mascara though it made my eyelids feel heavy. Scarlet lipstick. Working clothes.
I pulled on a thigh rig weapon harness and weaponed up, adding the Mughal Empire dagger Bruiser had given to me, on a small harness on my hip. The hilt was gem-set jade; the scabbard was velvet-covered wood. The knife had been made in the 1700s, in India, with a slightly curved blade, a central ridge, and double grooves. It hada gold-overlaid palmette and cartouche at the forte. I had made it my ceremonial blade, wearing it when I wanted to make a statement. The blade was watered steel and it was said that it had magic, being charged with a spell of life force, to give the wielder the ability to block any opponent’s death cut. Bruiser had said about the spell, “Pure balderdash, but it makes a nice tale.” Still. Sometimes a history and reputation were magic of themselves.
Barefooted, I walked silently into the living room. Alex and Bodat didn’t even look up. They were bent over several tablets and laptop screens, with the big-screen TV in front of them divided into various views. It was all security video of HQ. I didn’t bother to study anything. Pulling on Beast’s stealth and ability to move unseen, I stepped into the opening of the kitchen and stood there. Watching. Listening.
Gee was at the table, sitting in my place. Edmund was standing near the sink, opening a bottle of wine. Eli was taking a huge chicken pot pie out of the oven. I knew the menu by the mouthwatering aroma. Ayatas was standing with his back to the side door, at an angle where he could see all the others but couldn’t see me, wouldn’t see me unless he turned his head or smelled me and searched me out. I was counting on the chicken pot pie—which smelled heavenly—to cover my scent. Ayatas would have a skinwalker’s scent glands, mostly human, whereas Beast had taken in the genetics of a dog’s scent glands and the part of the brain that analyzed and remembered the scents, from when we shifted to bloodhound. She was way better than any old skinwalker.
Littermate,she thought. There was a sound of longing and wonder in the single word.
Ayatas said, “You were telling me about the video footage.”
“No. I wasn’t,” Eli said.
“I could bring you in for questioning.”
“You could. You won’t.” He set the Dutch oven on the table, on a wood rack I hadn’t seen before. My stomach cramped. I hadn’t eaten much after the shift and I was starving.
“And why wouldn’t I?” Ayatas asked.
“Because Leo has his talons in every law enforcement agency and politico in the state and a good many in D.C. Because you want Janie on your side. Taking me in, Alex in, Jane in, is not the way to build good relations. It’s a way to burn bridges you haven’t decided to burn yet. Bridges with Leo. Bridges with Jane. Bridges with Soul.” Eli took a long-handled spoon and cut into the pot pie’s crust, releasing steam and chickeny goodness. I pressed a hand to my middle. “You’re a smart guy,” Eli said. “But you’re also stupid.”
On the surface, Ayatas didn’t react with offense, but his scent changed. A faint spike of anger. Insulted.
“Here’s what I think happened. You came here in your capacity as PsyLED to oversee the Sangre Duello. Smart. Necessary even.” Eli looked at Ayatas to make sure he was listening and back to his pot-pie work. “You had heard about Jane Yellowrock. Seen some YouTube video. I figure you had researched through PsyLED databases and questioned your family about the long-lost sister. And then Soul came into the picture and gave you more info, more than you found in the databases. The Europeans came. Things heated up here. You decided to apply for a job transfer, with the opportunity to meet Leo, and, on the side, to see if Jane is that sister. Combining two purposes into one trip isn’t stupid by and of itself. But that made Jane an afterthought.” He looked at Ayatas again. “Just a note of caution, counsel, whatever—Jane Yellowrock is never an afterthought.”
