“Ah,” Leo said. “You will need that bigger clan home.” He was teasing me.
“Yeah, whatever. I’ll take any of Katie’s girls who want to stay in New Orleans as long as they understand that they have to go to school, sign on with a vamp as personal blood-servant, or get a job. A real job, not a pay-for-sex job. And I’ll accept résumés from people wanting in.”
“Will you, now?” Leo asked. “Résumés.”
“Yeah. Pieces of paper with job histories—”
“I know what a résumé is.” Dry, wry, amused.
“Right. Sloan Rosen and his family.” At Leo’s confusion, I said, “He’s NOPD. He has a price on his head by gangbangers.”
“I see.” But it was clear that Leo didn’t see.
“Deon, Katie’s chef, if he wants to stay in New Orleans rather than travel to Atlanta. Up to Katie and Deon, but I’m interested. And Wrassler. He’s honest, capable, and my friend.” And he’d been injured because I hadn’t doneenough to keep HQ safe. But I didn’t say that. “And lastly, I want Bruiser. George Dumas. I know he can’t swear to me any more than the Roberes can swear to Clan Arceneau and Grégoire. But he’s mine. Not yours.”
Leo’s eyes flashed; his scent flashed too, taking on the acrid stink of scorched parchment. I thought for a moment he was going to vamp out and that I’d have to stake him too. But Leo managed a breath and said softly, “George Dumas. How do you swear?”
Bruiser moved around the table and up to us, his footsteps silent, his scent heated and calming. “I have signed a legal contract with the Master of the City of New Orleans. If the Master of the City will release me from said contract, I will swear to the Dark Queen and to Clan Yellowrock. To the Master of the City of New Orleans through the Dark Queen. And to New Orleans through her.”
Leo was good at hiding his emotions, but even I could see the pain in his expression. “Your loyalties have changed, one who was once my primo.”
Very precisely, speaking slowly, as if he too had seen Leo’s reactions, Bruiser said, “I am Onorio, Dominantem Civitati—Leonard Pellissier, Master of the City and Hunting Territories of New Orleans and the Greater Southeast. I am Onorio. I am loyal.” But he didn’t say to whom he was most loyal and that seemed to tick Leo off.
“If there is war?” Leo asked, his voice silky and far too soft.
“So long as my position as Onorio does not prohibit me, I will fight beside Jane Yellowrock and Leo Pellissier, for the city of New Orleans and her Mithrans and her cattle.”
“And if my territory alters?”
“Then we will decide what to do, my dearest, best friend.”
Leo tilted his head. “Friend?”
“I will always, for as long as the sun rises and sets, so long as I live, be your friend.” Bruiser held out his hands to Leo, his arms open. Expressions flooded across Leo’s face, emotions that ranged from surprise to fury to grief to hope to some things I couldn’t name. Leo looked atBruiser’s open hands and arms and looked up into Bruiser’s face. Carefully, slowly, Leo stepped toward his former primo. Bruiser’s arms closed around Leo, Bruiser a good nine inches taller, broader, more muscular than the slight frame of his former master. They stood that way, the positions awkward, stiff, as if they had never hugged before as equals.
And then Leo exhaled and dropped his head against Bruiser’s chest and relaxed. “I have always been your... friend, my George.” The odd pause before Leo said the word indicated its human peculiarity. Vamps had associates and sex buddies and servants and slaves and scions and drinking pals, but did they ever have friends?
“I know,” Bruiser said. “Relationships change, Leo. Ours did. But that relationship is still bloody strong and faithful.”
“I am uncertain how to have a... friend. My last friend was my brother, El Mago. He turned against me and I killed him. Twice. I do not grieve for my brother, George, but I would grieve for you.”
“Then I must make certain that you never need to kill me, my friend.” There was laughter in Bruiser’s voice, the kind of laughter that was also full of tears. “Will you release me from my contract?”
“I will have papers drawn up and sent out today, releasing you from service one day after the end of the Sangre Duello.”
“Thank you,” Bruiser said softly. “You honor me with your trust and your love.”
Their arms dropped. Leo stepped back and away from Bruiser’s embrace. His black hair had come loose and fell around his face in dark wisps. He looked at me, his eyes more human than I had ever seen them, tears pooling in the Frenchy-black depths. “You will keep my George alive. You will protect my friend.”
“I so swear,” I said, knowing that if I got Bruiser killed, my own life was forfeit. Of course, if I got Bruiser killed I’d want to be dead anyway.
Leo said, “Bring me a cell phone and dial the Everhart-Truebloods. I will accept a verbal swearing for nowshould they decide to join Clan Yellowrock.” He held out a hand and a blood-servant placed a cell phone in it. It was on speaker and it was ringing.
“Hey, Unca Leo!” Angie said, delight and happiness in her greeting.
Leo’s brows, both of them this time, shot to the ceiling. Then his eyes went wide as shock morphed into something else. Something like wonder.
“This is Angelina. Mama!” she screamed. “It’s Unca Leo!”
