“Maaaineeet.” She laughed at the name. “The Heir thought to change history to his own desires. I let him think he would win. But we three—Ka, you, and I, granddaughter—together we have the power and the amulets and the place where true power is chained. Only we know where it is.”
More crazy talk. Or more angel talk.Crap.
“Ka’s caught and bound and brought to nothing. And so are your plans,” I said.
“We can take Shaun’s place and together we can defeat the Heir to the Sons of Darkness.”
“Not working with you, old woman. You have no honor.”
Grandmother screamed again. Her body writhed and shifted, bones cracking and splitting, partial shapes resolving and sliding away. Somehow the men kept hold of her.
Bruiser, his face white from the strain of trying to control a mad skinwalker, let her go and hunched his body away from Grandmother. Skinwalkers can’t be bound—or even controlled—easily, and Grandmother, perhaps, not at all.
Aya stared down at the woman who had raised him. There was pain and horror and a grieving misery in his eyes.
Grandmother shifted to Sabina, who looked at me. “Protect the amulets from the invaders. Keep our kind and your kind and the witches, as well, safe from the place of binding and shape-changing and freedom.”
“Where is it?” I asked.
“You will find it,” the priestess said. “But you cannot let the one who ate me live. Kill her now. Take and protect the amulets. Save the place of power and the being who is chained there.”
Aya said, “Her death is the duty of her clan and her children. But—” He looked at me, his expression shifting through indecision to something harder. “Her trial before the elders will take time to arrange. I am an officer of the law as well as an elder of theTsalagi. I have a duty. May I borrow a vehicle to take them to the witch null prison?”
He couldn’t kill her. I got that. It might be a horrible decision to leave her alive, but... Gramma was Aya’s responsibility. Not the Dark Queen’s. I blew out a breath, knowing I was putting off the inevitable. “Yeah.”
I addressed the vamp I trusted more than anyone knew. “Koun, will you arrange a security team to help. Eli and I will be... ummm...” I smiled weakly, “tied up here.”
“Yes, My Queen.”
CHAPTER 18
Who Knew with Suckheads?
Crap started again at dusk. I rolled over, finding myself in Leo’s old bedroom. Mine now. There were people shouting in the hallway and over my earbuds, which were laying on the bedside table. No gunshots, no announcements about being attacked, so that was good.
I was fully human, still with about twenty-five extra pounds of muscle, my head on Bruiser’s pillow beside the crown, which had come off again as I slept and changed shape. He was gone of course, because he needed less sleep than I did. I was sweating and miserable and threw off the covers so the AC could cool me. Outside the door, something thumped. Loud.
I hadn’t missed all this at the inn, in the mountains, in my place of peace: the constant violence, ornery vamps, and a heat wave in midfall. According to the weather app on my cell, temps had reached ninety during the day and were still in the eighties.
And then I remembered. I flopped over, the horror flashing through me.
Storm and Derek dead in the street. Raisin dead. Adandead. Bruiser reading vamps, trying not to bind them, his face showing nothing. Nothing at all of the misery he had been feeling at taking on the burden of such a terrible act. Monique headless-dead. Gramma and Ka being loaded into the SUV and taken to the witch null prison, where they were now, under guard. I had a bad feeling about them, but despite the evil they had done, they weren’t mine to sentence. They were the problems of Panther Clan Elders. They were Aya’s responsibility, unless they got free and killed witches or humans in my city. So far as I could prove, they hadn’t, and until they did, my hands were bound. Once they killed the people I was sworn to protect, all bets were off. I’d take their heads. Kill. Again.
I rolled out of bed, showered, and did the girly things I needed to do in this shape.
Wearing a plush bathrobe, I padded barefoot out of the bath to find my bed had been made while I was in the shower, and my weapons had been laid out on the spread. I figured Quint had been involved, though in this form, I couldn’t really differentiate her scent her over the blood and vamp aromas carried on the air system.
The noise in the hallway had decreased as vamps and their dinners paired off, or tripled off, or multipled off for blood sharing. My stomach growled, and I thought about walking barefoot and robed down to the kitchen, but I didn’t want to appear to be presenting myself as a potential dinner to any vamps. I threw open the closet doors, and the first thing I saw was a brand-new set of armor in a gorgeous gold, which hadn’t been here before. I no longer knew how many suits of armor I owned. I knew what one set cost. The Dark Queen’s fashion and defensive wardrobe expenditures had to be astronomical. I shoved the gold suit aside on its hanger.
Fortunately the clothing in the closet had been replaced and was all stuff I liked—no weird colors, just black, gold, and red—so I could mix and match. I wasn’t good with fashion, but I figured even I couldn’t mess up with the minimal color choices. The pants and skirts were all black, except the one scarlet dancing skirt that had to be a full circle of the lightest flowing silk. Everything in the closet had slides at the waist with decorative or hidden buttons to giveme inches where I needed them. The pockets were mostly faux, so I could always carry concealed. The necklines of the tops were loose and flowing or skintight stretchy stuff. Two shirts had crossover necklines to be worn over a tank or camisole. Each piece had been made with shape-shifting and weapons in mind.
It should be easy to decide what to wear. I started with the narrow cabinets to the sides of the closet and pulled open drawers that held undies and bras in my size, most way too fancy. But I found a few things tucked away that were more useful than lace, satin, and silk, as if someone other than Madame Melisende had snuck them in. Go Quint. I pulled on cotton undies, a Lycra jogging bra, and a body-hugging T-shirt. I had more boobs again, which was nice, but I needed padding to protect my more delicate bits from weapon harnesses. Satisfied with the start, I studied the clothing.
Tonight was the scheduled duello between my executioner and the warrior chosen by the latest invader, Shaun MacLaughlinn, assuming he showed up after breaking parley and attacking us. It was also the date of the execution of the vamps in the basement, which Shaun surely knew, and so he might show up at HQ to attack again and to try and get his people back. Who knew with suckheads? Knowing he had been working with Monique, Granny, and Ka, and that his cohorts were now dead or imprisoned, he might be planning most anything tonight. It was what any self-respecting vamp would do—promise to be on best behavior, cheat, promise again, and then cheat again. I should wear the armor. So maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as I had hoped.
A soft knock sounded on the door, and I heard a voice say, “It’s Quint.”
Despite only having a human nose, under the door, I smelled seafood and only one person. “Come,” I said, unlocking the door, drawing on the robe and palming a throwing knife. Just in case.
