“Hey, Bruiser,” I interrupted, speaking loudly to be captured over the other’s mics.
“Yes, My Queen?”
“Don’t get dead.”
“Same to you, my Queen.” The warmth in his voice was like the touch of his hand in a dance, intimate yet formal.
Alex hit another key and the sound cut off, but I knew Bruiser was okay, so I could think about other things.
My cell dinged and I saw a text from Alex. Who was sitting like three feet away from me, so he wanted this private. I read: “Just got a text. Number untraceable. Reads: ‘Hey Money Honey. Cover your six. Shit’s going down. And I could use a good saving about now.’ ”
I texted back, “Reach calls me Money Honey.”
“No way to prove it’s him,” he texted, “but he disappeared some time ago. If Reach is in NOLA, and the Heir’s prisoner, he would want a rescue.”
“Not high on my list, but I’ll keep it in mind. Let Eli know.”
“Copy that.”
Reach. In the hands of the Heir, against his will. The Heir, the successor of the two Sons of Darkness, whom I had killed. The one person who might have access to their power. Who might be able to defeat me, behead all my vamps, and then take over the world.
Or... Reach was covering his bases so that if Mainet lost, he’d be set free. The former data-whiz of the paranormal world would think ahead. And who knew what his ultimate intentions were, except freedom (assuming he was a prisoner) and money. With Reach it was always money. But Reach wasn’t my problem.
Eli read Alex’s text about Reach and the Heir and looked at me. I nodded slightly. He said into his comms mic, “Attention, all team members. This attack on the null house, and what appears to be a jailbreak attempt forone or more of the witch prisoners there, could be the beginning of the attack on our queen by the Heir. Alex, notify all clan Blood Masters to get to safety and lock down. There could be a multi-pronged attack in progress.”
“Roger that,” Alex said.
CHAPTER 3
Diplomacy Was Supposed to Be My Main Gig Now
“Team Koppa. Load up,” Eli said. “Lethal and non-lethal force weapons. Full gear, max defensive and offensive kits.”
Koppa was the special security unit he had been training. Koppa was the Greek letter for Q, as in Dark Queen, which he seemed to find amusing. I knew all the team’s faces and even though Eli had been working with them personally for only a week, I felt comfortable going into battle with them. If they let me participate, that is.
That delicate balance of keeping me safe yet visible meant that my crew tried to keep me out of the line of fire, under shields, and uninjured. I understood it. As Queen, I was supposed to give orders, observe as they were carried out, and be vampy diplomatic. I was better at busting heads than I was at diplomacy, and diplomacy was supposed to be my main gig now. Which sucked.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Eli press a small stone into his pocket over his most recent wound. A healing or pain-reducing amulet from his girlfriend, Liz.
“My lady,” Koun said, leading the way outside and into the street. “You will ride with me.”
“Uh-huh. And will you drive me away from the fight?”
“I do not drive away from any fight,” he said, his tone full of insult. “In my human life, leaders led the way into battle.”
Black SUVs were double-parked blocking the street, the matched make and models of the fleet of armored SUVs owned by the Dark Queen. The traffic had been stopped by SUVs on either end of the block, to wait or take a detour. My... freaking entourage. Bet that made the commuters happy.
Horns honked with unexpected outrage. Unlike in other parts of the country, born and bred Southerners didn’t honk much. Not usually.
Koun opened the passenger door of one of the black SUVs. It was parked so close to the next car that I had to slide in sideways. Still not completely trusting that he’d drive me toward battle, I adjusted the Benelli M4 and strapped myself in. Koun closed the door, got into the driver’s seat, and started the vehicle.
Before he continued his commentary, he turned off his mic. Mine was still off, my headset in my lap as my chief strategist pulled down the road behind Eli. Two other vehicles fell in behind us and the traffic along the street opened up. In the privacy of our vehicle, Koun said, “This modern method of kings on horseback directing from safety at the rear of battle, or, even worse, generals sitting in a protected situation room, directing the warfare from microphones and video, is cowardly.”
Our vehicle passed four photojournalists hiding in the thick foliage in alleys between buildings. Even if they had low-light cameras, they wouldn’t be able to get pics through the heavily tinted windows. But they had to know that the Dark Queen was on the move.
“I understand your need and desire to participate,” Koun said. “I recognize your fighting skill. I will protect you as needed, but will not impede you.” He speared me with a glance, his cool eyes sharp as icicles. “Unless, my lady, you do something stupid.” He turned his eyes back to the street. “I reserve the right to stop you should you attempt something foolish.”
I thought back to getting into the car, and realized Koun had parked the car so no one could get a good shotof me—photographically or weapons-based. Protect but not impede. And he called me “my lady” not “My Queen” when he had something to say that he considered private.Got it.I liked that kind of forethought in my Enforcer and Executioner. “Goodie. Comms.”
