Well, sort of human,I thought. My cell dinged and I answered, puzzled. “Yummy? What can I—”
“We need help! We’re under attack!”
I hit the speaker button and the sound of gunfire was amplified into the room. “We’ve called 911!” Yummy shoutedinto the cell, her voice high-pitched and panicked. “The police say we aren’t in their jurisdiction. They refuse to send SWAT! The governor’s not answering our calls!”
“Copy,” I said. “You’re on speaker. SAC LaFleur is here.”
Rick pointed at Margot and she left the room for the hallway, where she started making calls, her voice toneless, steady, too low to hear.
Rick said to Yummy, “We need info. For starters, how many enemy attackers? Are they vamps or human? What weapons?”
More gunfire came over my cell. The sounds of shouting and screaming. Yummy didn’t answer, but the background noise changed as if she was moving.
Rick said to Jo, “Get FireWind on the line, I don’t care if he’s neck deep in vampire guts at a crime scene. The rest of you grab your gear and get back here to gear up.”
I raced to my cubicle, grabbed my two gobags, my weapon, and sped back. I dumped everything on the table and started checking my weapon. The others slammed their gear down too.
Rick said. “The vampire isn’t responding. We don’t have the training or the equipment to take on an armed attack without the backup of SWAT.”
Over my cell, I could pick out semiautomatic weapon fire in three-burst patterns. The boom of what sounded like a shotgun. Or maybe even a small-bore cannon. More screams, human and the high-pitched screams of vampires, echoed.
The ambient noise of the cell changed again and we heard, “I can see maybe ten humans and pick out three Naturaleza by the scent patterns.” Yummy’s voice had steadied. She was breathing in a slow, regular rhythm, like a human who had taken control of herself. Yummy hadn’t been a vampire for long. Under stress, she sometimes fell back into human reactions. Clicks and metallic sounds came over the speaker. She, or someone close by, was reloading. “There may be more coming in from downwind.”
“Any magic like the summoning attack?” Rick asked.
The sound of a single shot overwhelmed the cell’s mic and Yummy came back on in midsentence. “—that two. One down. Trying to avoid hitting the attacking humans. No magic.” She cursed, hard, succinct. “They’ve put their own humans infront of them. They’re using their cattle as shields.” She cursed again, inventive and sexually explicit.
JoJo whispered, “Locals are calling 911. Multiple calls reporting gunfire.”
To Yummy, Rick said, “Blood-servants are still counted as human in the current political climate. Using them as shields guarantees armed response, but it might be slow.”
“We don’t have time for slow! Our people are dying!” Two more shots followed.
I remembered the other vamps Ming had discussed. “How far out are Lincoln Shaddock and his crew?” I asked Yummy when I thought she could hear me.
“They’re not answering our calls.” Yummy fired again. Again. The cell went silent, as if I’d lost the signal. I strapped my vest in place, the Velcro loud in the tense silence. The vest was dark with the wordPsyLEDon the front and back in stark white, marking me as law enforcement, either someone to listen to or a target, depending on their intent.
“We’re all geared up. Why aren’t we on the way?” I demanded.
“When Ming became Master of the City and created a council chambers,” Rick said, “she effectively created an ambassadorial residence under the auspices of the new European emperor and the Mithran Dark Queen. According to the current arrangements with the secretary of state, the diplomatic corps, and other agencies within the federal government, only federal agencies can respond to calls for assistance on the grounds, not local police unless there’s a direct danger to the local populace.” His voice was toneless, shut down, void of emotional entonations, yet his eyes were glowing green. He’d had a bad night and exhaustion had brought his cat close. “Access to vamp grounds is limited except by invitation of the MOC. Law enforcement response and presence, therefore, has to come from us or the FBI and I don’t have the people to order armed response onto the grounds in the face of multiple armed attackers. We need SWAT.”
JoJo added, “Only if a vamp is attacking humans away from council chambers can local law provide armed response.”
“That’s stupid,” I said. And if I cussed, I’d be saying awful things right now.
When the mic began to work again, Yummy was screaming, the piercing ululation of the dying vampire. “I’m hit,” she said. “Oh shit. I’m... hit...” The cell call ended.
Rick answered his cell, saying crisply, “Soul. We got problems.”
I tuned him out and dialed Jane Yellowrock. The Dark Queen of the vampires had to have some authority over what was happening here. It went to voice mail. I dialed her business partners in New Orleans. Voice mail. I called the personal cell of Alex Younger. Voice mail. It was almost as if they were avoiding me. I dialed the Mithran Council Chambers of New Orleans. Voice mail. I left the same message on every line: “The MOC of Knoxville is under attack by unknown vampires. Please advise.” But I was getting madder and madder, and I could feel leaves tickling at my neck as my anger made them grow and unfurl. I lugged the agency landline phone to me and dialed the NOLA number. When it went to voice mail, I knew that it wasn’t just me who was currently persona non grata, it was PsyLED. Or they were under attack too. That seemed a stretch, but it wasn’t impossible. Jane pretty much lived at war.
“Margot,” Rick called out. “Soul gave us the go-ahead. Tell me you got armed response.”
Margot stuck her head in the door. “I’ve got SWAT on the way,” she said, “along with a small group of FBI under the command of the Knoxville acting SAC. Local cops will set up perimeters half a mile on either end of the road. Medic is on the way to their locations. But I gotta tell you, SWAT isn’t overly motivated. There was chatter about letting them kill each other off.”
“There always is,” Rick snarled. “Vests and headsets, silver and standard ammo, flashbangs and smoke grenades. Occam, assault rifle. Let’s go, people.”
“On it, boss,” Occam shouted from the weapons locker. Unit Eighteen had only one assault rifle and Occam was the only one qualified.
