At his feet, Mainet’s true-dead fingers twitched. Aya stepped back fast.
Before I could give the order, Fawn and Carmine dragged Mainet’s headless body outside into the dawn. Then they found a few two-by-fours and used them to lift the red-hot brazier and Mainet’s still-burning skull and carried it out as well. A human handed Ayatas a pair of pants and a shirt and he dressed swiftly as Bruiser and I walked outside.
Together our small group of humans watched the sun rise, pale peach sky and soft rosy clouds, as the remains of the Heir flamed up and burned into ash.
The river breeze kicked up as the tide changed and the sun’s heat began to warm the earth. Big Evan whistled up a small whirlwind and the ashes twisted into the sky andaway, out over the water of the Mississippi toward the Gulf of Mexico.
Using the two-by-fours, I stirred the ashes of evil and scattered them into the river wind. We watched them float away.
***
I knew up front I’d be in the way. I didn’t even ask to go along. Instead, Longfellow and I watched the action on the screen of the large tablet Alex positioned for us on the back porch of my freebie house, rocked, and sipped tea. The little flying dragon liked tea with honey, so he got his own cup, which he could reach from his perch on the arm of my rocking chair. Molly, Big Evan, and the kids were with us, the kids playing on my broken rock garden, all of us under heavy guard. As we watched the screens, a soft rain blew in, a muggy front across the landscape from the Gulf, slow patters of rain and no lightning, a warm soaking, perfect for the kids to play in and keep them out of our hair.
On the screens, Eli and Bruiser led the human and witch teams as they stormed Mainet’s HQ for the cleanup. They cleared the house hidden in the middle of the French Quarter, mostly buried by the hotels and businesses that had been built up around it. Room by room, hidden lair by lair, half underground, the vamps were found, staked, and piled like cordwood until they could be transported to my scion room for judgment by the outclan priest. Based on information gathered from the humans there, they tracked down the sleeping quarters of other vamps and humans, set free prisoners, and acquired vast amounts of intel.
In one weather-beaten house on the edge of Petit Lac Des Allemands, they also discovered a hoard of gold a dragon would have lusted over. Did lust over, I presumed, because Longfellow popped away from my rocking chair and appeared at the gold, hovering and squeaking what sounded like, “Mine! Mine! Mine!” Fortunately the little dragon couldn’t actually breathe fire and he was satisfied with a gold coin, which he held like prey in his back feet as he popped back for more tea. I had no idea what I was going to do with the little dragon.
Over the course of the daylight, my people staked seventy-two sleeping vamps scattered across the area and—from sunset to midnight—transported them to the scion room in HQ. They were stacked wall to wall and the small-ish room reeked of vamp and blood, enough to make me sneeze when I did the queenly thing and inspected my enemies.
There would be a trial. Heads would roll.
The humans who had served the staked vamps numbered three hundred forty-two, and were given care and food, the edibles ordered in from local restaurants. The humans who wanted to stay in vamp service, despite the binding no longer working as it used to, would be dispersed across the nation to all the MOCs who owed me fealty. Even with the sharing out among my national clans, I’d have to create new vamp clans in NOLA to house some. Life in NOLA would change again, and hopefully, someone would step up and become master of the city. Eventually. So far, all my own vamps had been too smart to want that job.
To address the transport circle problem, the Everharts and local witches paired with local concrete companies and local law enforcement as well as a company out in the boonies at the estate, and, in a well-timed release, dumped multiple loads of concrete into the open witch circles at the distant points of the star.
The concrete spewed out of the circle in the central small garden of the hidden house in NOLA, the walled-in witch circle from which Mainet had carried out his attacks. There was a lesser eruption in the smaller, amulet-created circle in a bathroom of the church, through which the witches had transported Mainet and his vamps.
Safely from my squeaky metal rocker, I sat and let my well-trained and enthusiastic teams do what they did best—protect my city and each other. For once I didn’t care that I wasn’t in the midst of things. I was bone tired, so exhausted that even a platter full of bacon and an entire pot of tea did little to keep me awake as the human and witch teams tracked, trapped, and transported our enemies.
Midafternoon, the skies opened up as the first late fall storm blew in, necessitating a venue change for the press conference Bruiser had agreed to. The governor, the local officials, two senators, and the media wanted the conference at HQ, claiming the location was based on the rain (but it was likely because the ratings would be higher if it took place there). The mayor, who was suddenly my new BFF, was all about keeping me and my tax money in NOLA, and had a long phone chat with my Consort to consolidate the vamp relationship with his city. He too wanted the press conference in vamp HQ, in the HQ ballroom. I even had interview requests from national media.Gag.
The media and political interest was the result of the release of camera feed from inside the desecrated church, timed with the statement about me moving to Asheville, leaked by two reporters, one who gained access to the Dark Queen’s winter court inn. At the same time, a documentary video about the horrors of the vamp war in Europe had been released on YouTube. Coincidence? Nope. That timing had my honeybunch’s fingerprints all over it.
Deon had offered to create a spread for the event, but he was exhausted from ordering in enough food for all the new humans. Like the rest of us, he’d been running himself ragged for days. So I put my paw down and insisted on coffee only. Just because I had to open HQ to the media and political types didn’t mean I had to make them feel welcome, especially after the way some of them had treated my people.
The press and the VIPs started to gather half an hour before start time, at which point I unexpectedly shifted to human form. The shift then was marginally better than during the press conference, but it did necessitate a wardrobe change. Fortunately I didn’t feel any lump in my gut (meaning I was likely cancer free) and I had plenty of clothes in my HQ bedroom suite. Quint helped me into black business trousers with a gold tunic and a black jacket with a tiny gold pinstripe the color of my eyes and the color of my crown, which I stuck back on me after the shift. (The miserably uncomfortable crown was good forpolitics. And I was now, for better or worse, a political symbol.) Dancing shoes and my amulets completed my ensemble. That’s what Quint called it. “My Queen’s ensemble.” I carried a few weapons—fully hidden—just in case someone decided to bring the dregs of the war here and shoot me dead on live TV. It could happen.
Eli and Bruiser, state senators and members of the House, the governor of Louisiana, the mayor of NOLA, the city council, the bigwigs and dignitaries in state, parish, and city politics and law enforcement were all gathered at the dais when I walked in the doors. The mayor lifted his wrist and checked the time on a fancy wrist piece to let me know that I had cut it close. I smiled at him and touched my crown as I walked down the aisle. I had home court advantage. I had a crown. He had... votes. My expression said,I win.
The place fell silent as I made my way down the middle of the room, on the same carpet that had been used at Wrassler and Jodi’s wedding. Quint followed me. Cameras followed us both. Lots and lots of cameras. People shouted questions, dumb questions, as we walked the carpet and I took my place, not answering. I stopped and faced the room, standing slightly in front of the mayor. I was taller than New Orleans’s new mayor. He had to move to the side to be seen by the reporters.
Yeah, it was petty. And catlike. Vengeful Cat. I had been called that once and it kinda fit. I stood silent, my face expressionless, and let all the local law talk, then all the politicians. I let my mind wander, thinking about maybe putting a pool in at the DQ’s Winter Court. Not an Olympic thing, but a family thing, something the kids would like. And then I heard Bruiser say, “The Dark Queen has a short statement. She will not be taking questions.” My Consort stepped to the side and I took his place at the podium, a narrow plexiglass thing I had noticed subconsciously, but not fully.
The stupid questions started again. I let them shout. After a bit I said softly, “I have allotted two minutes to speak to this room. You have one minute left.” A few beats later I said, “Fifty seconds. Forty-five.” The racketcontinued. “I detest public speaking. Make my day. Thirty seconds.”
The room quieted.
I decided on the royal “we.” Narrowed my eyes at the crowd.
“The Dark Queen and the clan masters of this city, our Mithrans, our blood-servants, our Onorios, the New Orleans’s witches, a werewolf, and our humans have defeated every incursion made by domestic and foreign terrorists and invaders intent on turning our citizens into cattle, bleeding you and leaving you to die. We have done this, most often without parish, local, or state law enforcement backup, and lately, without political assistance. We have done this not for money, but for love of New Orleans, for love of Louisiana, for love of her people. No more. The Dark Queen will be moving to Asheville as of Monday next, taking that city as our year-round permanent residence and our permanent headquarters.”
The mayor blanched. Probably due to all the videos of the vamp war in Europe.
The room broke into pure pandemonium with a side order of fury.
My voice just as calm, I continued as the room returned to quiet. “Yellowrock Clan Home will remain here. We will maintain a personal, part-time residence here. But it will be up to those other clan Blood Masters if they stay or leave. Hopefully, one of the clan masters will accept the position as master of the city, but so far, due to the lack of respect shown to the protectors of this populace, no one is willing.” I looked at Bruiser and nodded toward the door behind us. “Consort?”
Together, my honeybunch and I left the room, Quint covering our six.
