Wade laughed and wrapped his arms around Spencer to give him a spine-cracking hug that didn’t hurt only because of the copious amounts of potions and painkillers Spencer had sucked down since waking up in the hospital. “I’m glad you’re okay, but you still have terrible taste in partners.”
“I thought you didn’t like details.”
“Idon’t, so shut up. Just know I’m judging you.”
He was smiling as he pulled away though, clearly not judging Spencer too hard, despite his statement. He looked carefree and happy, at ease with himself more than he’d been a few years back. Spencer quirked a smile at him, grateful that he could call Wade a friend. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You can thank me by giving me joint custody of Fatima.”
“Not on yourlife. Get your bag, and get on the jet.”
Wade cackled and did as he was told without arguing for once. He hauled his suitcase out of the trunk of Spencer’s car, waved goodbye, and trotted over to the folded-down jet door that doubled as stairs. He disappeared into the jet, and Patrick soon joined him, waving goodbye from the top of the stairs before stepping out of sight.
Spencer smiled as he got back into the car, Fatima taking her typical spot on the front passenger seat and getting comfortable. The engine was still running, and he drove off the tarmac and out of the airport, heading for Interstate 405 rather than the 5 this time. The condo was still his temporary home while he helped close out the case, and he’d slept there every night since being discharged from the hospital. Tonight, he just didn’t want to sleep alone.
So he drove to the mansion in Medina, hoping he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries. No one from the Seattle Night Court had contacted him since the fight at the museum, steering clear while the government scrutinized his every action as they always did when things blew up around him. Patrick had smoothed the way as much as he could, but ultimately, the case was Spencer’s, and the consequences were his to bear.
He parked on the street when he finally arrived, the sun dipping halfway below the horizon, the reds and oranges of the encroaching sunset saturating the sky. Spencer passed through the wards surrounding the property without any issue, and the door opened before he even got close enough to knock.
The person who answered it was not at all who he was expecting.
The mother of all vampires stood in Takoma’s home, smiling at Spencer with her jagged iron teeth sawed into fangs, bloodred hair twisted into Bantu knots, and a godhead shining like a star through her aura. “Mage.”
Spencer froze, wondering if it was too late to call Patrick and have him turn the plane around as Fatima rubbed against his leg. “Ashanti.”
She shifted on the iron-capped bone hooks that passed as her feet, the colorful skirt swirling around her legs not long enough to hide them. “Come inside.”
Spencer’s heart rate kicked up because he wasn’tstupid. He knew how deadly the predator standing before him was. The goddess every vampire owed their undead lives to and who they prayed to was capable of so much terror. He’d seen Ashanti fight at the end of the world, seen her never-ending hunger in all its technicolor gore and glory.
She was a horror, a myth, all wrapped up in the skin of an Asanbosam vampire.
Ashanti smiled like she could taste his fear. “I mean you no harm here in my child’s heart.”
He swallowed tightly before making his feet move, one jerking step at a time. Spencer entered the mansion and tried to keep his distance from the goddess stalking him. Ashanti, for her part, seemed mostly amused as she curled her fingers at him, skin as black as the eyes that stared at him, no sclera showing.
She led him silently into the living room overlooking the patio, the metal shutters all pulled back, the curtains open as well, letting the sunset wash through the space. Spencer twitched, shoving down the urge to go over and hit the controls that would close everything back up, sealing the space into a dark tomb to protect those who slept above.
Ashanti seemed to understand what he was feeling because she tilted her head at him in a regal sort of way, full lips twitching into a smile. “I know what you did for the Night Court here.”
“I wasn’t—” He broke off, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He had to cough to clear his throat. “I wasn’t going to leave them undefended.”
“You did more than that. Risked more in the way I would expect of a human servant, but you are no human servant.”
Spencer stayed silent, acutely aware of the stinging ache from the bite wound on his throat that hadn’t yet healed. He’d kept it covered by a gauze patch since leaving the hospital, not wanting to draw attention to it while finishing up the on-site paperwork for the case.
Ashanti stepped close, and Spencer had to fight the pulse-spiking need torun. Facing her alone was a hell of a lot different than facing her with Patrick and the New York City god pack by his side. But he stayed still as her clawlike nails touched his throat, catching on the gauze and peeling it free. She flicked it off her fingers, letting it fall to the floor as she studied the stitched-up, deep wound on his throat. The SOA had brought in a healer mage, but not even she had been able to break through the lingering tangle of blood magic that had somehow buried itself in his skin.
“No,” Spencer said carefully. “I’m not his human servant.”
Ashanti’s smile curved wider, her claws resting against the mark. “Something more, perhaps, hm?”
She pulled her hand back, and Spencer felt as if he could breathe again. “HowisTakoma?”
Ashanti turned away from him to walk over to the patio doors, the iron caps on her bone hooks clacking against the floor. “I fixed what that demon sought to ruin and dealt with the traitor.”
“Rufus?”
“The Spokane Night Court is no more. Takoma has control of that territory now.”
