The outer doors locked behind us, securing us in what amounted to an airtight, see-through cage, with steel supports and structural armor in the ceiling and floor. We’d been bombed here once. We’d learned from our complacency.
Thema and Kojo, not knowing what to expect when the doors whooshed shut, tensed and crouched, hands on weapons. The scent of vamp, floral and herbal, rose from them on the air. Neither was breathing; neither was moving but for the flash of dark eyes. Not vamped out, but ready for anything.
I watched through the glass into the foyer, recognizing the security measures as Cowbird Protocol was carried out. Cowbird meant that we weren’t just worried about attackers from outside but were possibly in danger from bad guys already inside HQ, and I was bringing more unknowns in with me. Four security guys approached the airlock doors, forming a semicircle with small subguns drawn and pointed directly at the doors. Wrassler peered out from the secondary video and security control nook off the foyer and met my eyes, assessing not just expressions and weapons, but body language and those subtle indicators of trouble. I lifted a single finger to him, and he ducked back into the small room.
When he and the other guy watching the entrance on security cameras were satisfied that we were welcome, were present under our own wills and not compelled, the inner doors would open. If security wasn’t satisfied, we would be asked to remove all our weapons, empty out all pockets, lift our shirts, and remove our shoes. As it was, the doors swished open, and we were allowed to walk through high-tech metal detectors built into the walls. A silent alarm went off inside HQ, registering the total amassed weapons as we were each scanned.
Despite the alarm, Wrassler left the alcove, limping slightly on his prosthetic leg toward us. He was dressed in a dark charcoal suit and dress shoes, not the dove gray suit of Leo Pellissier’s blood-servants. He approached Thema and Kojo and said, “All guests wear trackers while in HQ.” He held out black silicone bands, each with a small crystal face. “Your left arms please.”
Someone must have warned them of the procedure because both of the guests extended left arms. Wrassler locked the tracking bands into place and moved back. Twelve feet away, he stopped and stood still as if waiting for something.
I started to move toward him, but Bruiser took my hand, stopping me. “Wait,” he whispered.
I took in the foyer, which was different now from before. There was still a lot of white and gray marble and ornate woodwork. But now, instead of the Pellissier crest inset in the gray marble floor, there was a simple six-foot-diameter brass circle with laurel leaves like my crown, an image of the Glob in quartz, a brown marble feather, and a puma fang in white marble. The emblems were the same as on my standard and said everything there was to know about me. My crown. My power. My city.Whoopie dang do.
The armed guards stepped backward into shadows. From all the open hallways in every direction, and down the curved stairway leading to the next floor, vamps and humans began to arrive, walking slowly in step, almost like some kind of dance. A dozen of them. More. And behind them even more. They gathered in the foyer, shuffling feet, clearing throats.
Vamp scent gathered with them, hanging on the air,spicy and hot like peppers and allspice and cloves mixed with the floral of funeral flowers. A top note of sex and blood rode above the scents, cloying yet bright and sharp. I saw my clan members, people I loved and trusted, and others I kept closer than friends because their trust was questionable. So many people, every single one in party gowns or tuxedoes or black suits, which made me clench up with something unexpected and unfamiliar—a sense of being woefully underdressed in my jeans.
Wearing dark red to match her hair was Shiloh Everhart Stone, a vampire witch and my BFF’s niece. Shiloh’s primo, Rachel, wore a matching shade. Jodi Richoux, Wrassler’s fiancée and her partner at NOPD, Sloan Rosen, wore NOPD dress uniforms and black dress clothes and stood beside Wrassler. Deon, Katie’s former cook, and now one of the Council Chambers chefs, wore a green spangled tux. He blew me a kiss when he entered. Katie’s former ladies from her vamp bordello entered: Christy, Tia, Ipsita, Rachel (with Shiloh), Indigo, Najla, and even Bliss—aka Ailis Rogan—who was learning how to be the witch she had always denied being. All of them were my scions, my clan members, and my friends to one extent or another. All of them were people I was sworn to protect.
Behind them pranced Gee DiMercy, my Enforcer, a less trusted confidant. He took a place at the far left. He was a glamoured Anzu, and he had Longfellow perched on his shoulder, the flying lizard’s striped tail wrapped around the man’s throat. Brute stood at Gee’s knee with a grindylow on his shoulder—Pea, or Bean, or maybe Sprout. They were impossible to tell apart.
Standing to the right of Gee were members of NOLA’s other clans, vamps and humans I knew. I totally had not expected this, whatever this was.
There was Bettina, the leader of Clan Laurent, a woman who exuded sexual attraction. With her were two of her scions and several humans. Innara and Jenna, theanamcharaBlood Masters of Clan Bouvier, were present with Roland, their heir, two scions I vaguely knew, and six humans. Brandon and Brian Robere, the Onorio B-twins, both wearing black tuxedoes, looking like sex on sticks, were clearly standing in for Grégoire, the master of ClanArceneau. Blondie was currently fighting duels in my name in Europe, but he’d be here soon. Entering last was Clan Master Ming Zhane, her black hair up in a braided ornate bun I could never hope to replicate, wearing a black-gold-and-scarlet robe. She was petite and delicate and beautiful. Ming had been declared true dead, had been found, rescued, and brought back to full health. Her clan had been reinstated by Leo and funded by me before I left. In vamp terms, that meant she owed me not just fealty but an ongoing boon, which in vamp terms meant anything I wanted or needed.
Behind the clan Blood Masters stood Ernestine—Raisin—who ran HQ finances. She shuffled in, looking irritated and sour as always. The ancient blood-servant was so wrinkled she looked a bit like a mummified Shar-Pei puppy. Behind her came the working staff that kept the chambers running: cooks and cleaning crew, security guards, IT guys, the eight remaining Tequila and Vodka Boys, Derek Lee’s security teams recruited directly from the military. There was Larry, Leo’s former valet, and Quesnel, Leo’s wine steward and sommelier. There were people from housekeeping, groundskeepers, kitchen help. Humans who had been sworn to Leo and who had stayed on here after he died, keeping the place running until the city had a new MOC who wanted to do business out of NOLA again.
Dozens of my people walked into the large foyer, slowly assembling. Thema and Kojo faded behind us off to the side. My first thought was that they were cowards. And then the energy of the crowd rose, biting and sizzling, sharp as frozen knives. My skin crawled and jumped, muscles quivering. I had felt this before. It was...Holy crap. This was agather,and not one a Blood Master had created. I had no freaking idea what to do. Bruiser’s hand was the only thing that held me in place. The wordcowardwasn’t lost on me. I glanced at him, and his face was solemn, made more so by the dark beard.
Except for Wrassler and Bruiser (and Kojo and Thema edging to the back of the foyer) all the people crowded into the huge foyer looked at me. They bowed their heads and knelt, dropping in waves. Koun and Eli dropped the bloodybody bag and knelt. Brute, the werewolf, stretched out on the cool marble. Gee gave an elaborate court bow, his head nearly at the floor. The sounds fell away, apart from the shush of fabric and the breath of humans. Silence spread through a space that had always felt too large and drafty and now felt entirely too small and claustrophobic. This was why the foyer was so dang big. It was also a greeting room. Agatheringroom.
When he was sure I wouldn’t bolt, Bruiser released my hand and accepted a small gobag from Eli. From it, Bruiser pulled outle breloqueand placed it on my head. Instantly it did that snap-into-place thing, but this time it was so tight and hot against my skin that it was close to blistering me. Bruiser handed me the gobag, and inside I felt the energies of the Glob. He may not have expected this, or planned for this possibility, but he had my gear with him and he knew the proper protocols. He knelt at my side, and I pulled the magical weapon from the bag. It was vibrating in a way it never had before.
Inside me, Beast purred with delight at thegather.
Wrassler was still standing. He said, “Blood Master of the City of New Orleans, Dark Queen of the Mithrans. Welcome to the Mithran Council Chambers. We are yours to command.”
Crap in a bucket with toe jam.
All the confidence about me being able to do this fled. I thought I might hurl. My palms were sweating. And then Derek stepped out of the security nook. He didn’t kneel, and his face wore an expression that said he’d shoot me before he knelt to me. I didn’t blame him, not one bit. And that look helped to steady me.
I could try for vamp formal, but I’d fail. So I would be myself, probably breaking some long-standing vamp protocol. I was best at being a little offensive. “Holy moly, y’all. Stand up. Really. Stand up. I want us to see each other.”
Totally confused, they stood. Wrassler looked across the gathered, and I realized he had probably been making them practice the etiquette of thegatherfor weeks, knowing I was coming back. As usual, I had messed up the planning committee’s arrangements. Ming of Mearkanis lifted a black, well-shaped eyebrow as she stood. Beneath thewhite face paint, she might have been smiling ever so slightly.
“Okay, here’s the thing,” I said. “Grégoire or Katie or Edmund Hartley should have been your MOC. One of themwouldbe if this hadn’t happened so fast, if there hadn’t been war in Europe, if EuroVamps hadn’t come here to fight, and if Katie hadn’t been sent to rule Atlanta. So you’re stuck with me until Eddie, the emperor of Europe, makes up his mind about being the ruler of NOLA as well as emperor. Between now and then, I’m honored to be the DQ and the MOC. But”—I took a deep breath, feeling oxygen deprived—“as you know, I got no idea what I’m doing.”
Everyone laughed as if in agreement. My reputation of hitting first and talking later was well known. With the laughter, the energies rose and the Glob was suddenly so hot I had to shift it to my other hand, back and forth.
“I’m just Jane Yellowrock. The same person I’ve always been. I’ll be depending on each of you to do your best job and to handle problems according to procedures already established. If you have problems, you know who to take them to. If you need something, you know who to ask. So just go on like you always have. I...” I stopped and looked around at the earnest faces, male and female, all races, and all united by blood that I couldn’t share with them. Of them all, I was the outsider. And then Ming smiled, a human smile, small and...holy crap. Kind. Tears pricked at my eyes. “I thank you for the energy, the power you have shared tonight. I am energized and full of hope. I honor your faith in me. I honor each of you and the job you do keeping NOLA up and running and vamp central open and safe.”
Someone snickered. I had saidvamp central, not the proper title. And meanwhile, the Glob was even hotter, absorbing the energy in the room. Bruiser held up the hanky he always carried, and I wrapped the Glob into it like a potholder.
I had a rep to uphold. I should get back to that one.
“We all have jobs to do until Edmund and Grégoire get back home for the coronation. Until some vamp becomes the new fanghead MOC.” I grinned at them and said,“Until then, if anyone needs their butts beat, we’ll be sparring in the gym at some point in the near future. I may not be a vamp, but I’m fast, I’m sneaky, and I’m powerful. And I always win.” I let them think on that one for a while as I met eyes and watched people react.
