Beast was not talking of white man’s guns.
I smiled, and when Bruiser looked at me quizzically, I just shook my head. We were in one of the DQ’s SUVs, one with heavily tinted windows so the photographers couldn’t take pics, but I still wasn’t gonna risk getting frisky here. We waited silently as the police unit arrived and the cop instructed the circus to move back two blocks. Using barricades that had been left on site the night of the attack, the officer then blocked off the streets and departed.
Bruiser sent two texts to the security detail and watched as they got out of the other vehicles and placed frames covered with cloth around the circle, outside of the crime scene tape. Then we all pulled farther out of range of the coming skunky working.
“Smart,” I said.
“I can’t stop photographs taken from second-story windows or roof gardens, but I can make it more difficult for the public to watch the Everharts.”
Redheaded, curvy Liz Everhart walked into the street, upwind of the circle, her still-in-the-closet witch twin, Cia, half hiding behind dead foliage watching. Liz placed something on the pavement and backed away. Ten seconds later there was tiny flare of light and a huge puff of smoke. A long, high-pitched whistle split the air. The wind began to blow in and down. It was multidirectional and carried the smoke along the streets. I could hear screams and sounds of horror as the reporters and gawkers took off. I laughed. Then the smell leaked into the SUV.
“Holy crap in a bucket,” I said at the skunky stench. “Get us out of here.”
Bruiser was chuckling as he drove. “It’s been some time since I smelled that working. The Richardson witch clan uses a slightly different odor but it’s no less horrible.”
My cell rang. “Hey, Alex,” I answered. “What’s up.”
“Lachish Dutillett has been released from the hospital. She’s meeting you at our place.”
“To get the heart. No. She can’t have it. But that should come from me. Okay. We’ll be there soon?” I asked Bruiser.
“In this traffic it may take half an hour,” he said. “Alex, please have whoever is on duty allow her in and make her a cup of coffee or tea. And check on the Trueblood kids. Make sure they have fully vetted people with them.”
“Got it,” Alex said, and ended the call.
“Lachish was injured in the prison attack,” I said. “She’s getting out of the hospital awfully fast.”
“She was offered, and accepted, Mithran blood at the scene,” Bruiser said with a slight smile.
“Right...” I remembered that. Thema had fed and healed Lachish after the vamp and witch attack. An important witch had accepted help from a fanghead and lived to tell the tale. That could go a long way to continue helping heal the rift between the two para groups.
Minutes later we were at the freebie house, my first and only real home, bartered in a fortuitous negotiation with its previous owner, Katie Fonteneau. Bruiser parked out front. We entered and joined Lachish and Alex at the kitchen table. There was still a chill in the air and Bruiserturned on the gas logs as soon as we entered. Lachish was pale and bandaged, and when she tried to stand up to greet me, her breath hitched in pain. She started, “Lachish Dutillett is pleased to greet—”
I held up a hand to stop her and then gestured to her chair. “Let’s just dispense with the formal stuff. Sit down before you pass out.”
“I’ll get more tea,” Bruiser said.
Lachish eased back to her chair, the smell of pain, hospital chemicals, traces of old blood, and sweat wafting from her. “The Englishman’s answer to everything,” Lachish said. “Tea.”
“You should be home in bed,” I said.
“I should be guarding the box.”
“Where? The wards are still down at the null prison. I’m not even sure the windows are boarded over where the fangheads went through.”
Bruiser placed a pot on the table, with a pink crocheted tea cozy on top, the one Quint had made for me. Quint had made a tea cozy that I could use to hide a recording device if I ever needed to, but I still thought the color was a jab, a bit of mockery, considering my detestation of the color pink. And then again, I was getting paranoid, looking for problems under every gift, like with the gift of Long-Knife. I was, maybe, turning into a Leo-version of myself, which I hated, but which was keeping my people alive.
“Our queen arranged to have the null prison building itself secured for the witches,” Bruiser said. “The Everhearts are trying to get stronger wards up. Hopefully the reinforcedhedge of thornscan be restored, but it won’t be by tonight.”
Lachish sipped her tea and sighed. “I do like a nice Earl Grey. Thank you, Consort.” She cradled her cup and asked, “Why didn’t you give the heartbox to Ailis, as I asked?”
“We had polite words. I had the better protected space.”
Lachish raised her brows and sipped again. “Polite words. She was being difficult?”
“Young. Take-charge. Slightly rude. Unschooled.” Istopped short. I had been schooled by Leo. But I could do rude with the best of them. Or the worst of them. “I guess I was rude too.”
“Guess?” she asked, with a slight smile. “May I see it? The heart?”
