Reckoning

  “Now then, what did I want to ask you about? Ah, yes, redheaded bloke who goes by the name Ralmiel. Vampire, ’round my height, and has the most amazing new trick of disappearing into thin air. What do you know of him?”

  From the expression on Jean-Pierre’s face, he did know something about Ralmiel, but he didn’t want to share the information.

  Bones didn’t lose a fraction of his smile. “Need me to bash you about a bit before you answer? No trouble at all. Just let me know which bone you’d like broken first and I’ll get to it straightaway.”

  “Debils,” Jean-Pierre hissed. “Nothin’ but grave walkers, the both of you, ’cept even the earth don’ want you.”

  Bones waved a hand. “Yes, right, we’re all wretched blokes forsaken by God and Mother Nature herself, now get on with it.”

  Bones really had no desire to start beating on the little man. That would take too long.

  “Redheaded debil, he come ’round every so often,” Jean-Pierre said, spitting out the words. “He have fetishes made for him, use magic.”

  “Vampires are forbidden from using magic. It’s one of the few laws Cain laid down for his people. I’m surprised Ralmiel uses it so blatantly.”

  Jean-Pierre’s mouth curled. “Cain. God should have killed him for murdering Abel, not made him into a vampire as punishment instead. As for Ralmiel, those who see ’im use magic don’t live long enough to tell about it, I think.”

  That would keep word from spreading, true enough. But a few people had to know aside from Jean-Pierre. “This magic Ralmiel uses, who makes it?”

  “Don’ know.”

  Bones gave Jean-Pierre a measured stare. “I won’t enjoy it, but I’ll either beat the answer out of you, or I’ll take you with me and keep feeding off your no doubt dreadful-tasting blood until you tire of being my snack and you tell me then.”

  “Hope she curdles your blood to dust,” Jean-Pierre spat, but gave Bones a name. And her location.

  “You ring me if you see Ralmiel again,” Bones instructed Jean-Pierre, writing his number on the back of one of the sloganed coasters for sale on the counter. This one had a tagline of “It won’t lick itself!” Quite true, that.

  “And don’t make me end my long, friendly association with your family by doing something foolish,” Bones added, letting green flash in his eyes as he handed him the coaster.

  Jean-Pierre took it. “I don’t cross debils. Too much bad juju afterward.”

  Bones just nodded as he left. Quite true, that, as well.

  It was Bones’s fourth day in the city when another murder was discovered. As before, Bones went to the scene to see what, if anything, he could use from it to track the LaLauries.

  Jelani spoke with the detective assigned to the case. From their muted conversation, Bones picked up that the detective thought Jelani was an associate of one of the city’s biggest donors, and that Bones was a private investigator.

  Bones made Jelani empty out the flat before he went inside, ignoring the rubbish the detective sputtered about him contaminating the scene. He’d leave the scene a sight less muddled than those blokes.

  Once alone, he walked through the flat, breathing deeply every few moments. Same male and female scent from the other flat. Spent less time here, though, and made a grand mess of things in their haste. Those blood spatters are from an arterial spray, arced wide enough that the girl would have been running when they tore open her throat. Not the same girl they finished off in the kitchen, though. She’s the poor lass who owned the other flat, and she didn’t have any legs left to run on.

  The boy was watching. His blood’s fresher than theirs, and the stench from his fear is smeared all over both rooms. From the shallowness of his wounds, he was likely still alive when they ate his arms…

  Bones felt the shift in the air right before Ralmiel appeared behind him. He spun, his knife flashing out, but the other vampire wasn’t pointing any weapons at him this time. No, Ralmiel was staring almost sadly around the carnage of the room.

  “Mon Dieu,” he breathed, then gave a censuring glance at the knife in Bones’s hand. “Put that away. There’s been enough death in this room, oui?”

  Under normal circumstances, Bones would have disagreed, and then proceeded to stab the hell out of Ralmiel. But the scents, sight, and aura of despairing horror in the flat also made him loath to add to it. Bones lowered his knife, but didn’t let it out of his hand. He wasn’t so affected that he’d lost his wits.

  “Why are you here, if not to attempt to kill me again?”

  Ralmiel walked around the room, inhaling just as frequently as Bones had. He held another small, dark satchel in his grip. Ah yes, that would be Ralmiel’s voodoo version of a teleporter.

  “This was not done by human hands. It is one thing to kill such as you or I”—Ralmiel’s dismissive wave encompassed their mutual lack of worth—“but these are innocents. It is not right.”

  Bones almost rolled his eyes. A hitter with a conscience. If Ralmiel wasn’t out to kill him, he’d buy him a drink and they could talk shop.

  “You didn’t hear about the other murders? You should pay more attention, mate.”

  “I heard about the last one, but didn’t know our kind was responsible. New Orleans is my city. It has its darkness, but not like this. You know who’s doing this?”

  Bones met the other man’s green gaze. “Yeah, I do.”

  Ralmiel waited. Bones said nothing else. Finally, Ralmiel gave Bones an assessing glance.

  “But you are here to kill them, non? You are not too bright if you think Marie will thank you afterward for stealing her vengeance.”

  Bones shrugged. “I’m doing it regardless. Call it a slow business week.”

  Ralmiel laughed, but it had a harsh edge. “Tell me who is behind this, so when I kill you, you can go to your rest knowing I will prevent it from happening again. You have my word.”

  “Thanks ever so, but I’ll take my chances,” Bones replied, green glittering in his eyes.

  Ralmiel didn’t know it, but those magic pouches of his were numbered. Bones had paid a visit to Georgette yesterday, the maker of Ralmiel’s fancy exits, and had persuaded her to switch the ingredients for Ralmiel’s new batch. It barely required any threatening at all. Georgette knew using magic was against vampire law, and as the provider of the product, she was guilty by association. Once Ralmiel ran out of the real fetishes, Bones would have him right where he wanted him. Forced to fight—and die.

  Ralmiel bowed. “As you wish.” Then he squeezed his pouch and vanished from where he’d been standing.

  Bones looked at the empty spot and smiled. Two more down, mate. I suspect your genie impersonation will soon be coming to an end.

  Chapter 6

  Becca chewed her lower lip. “You’re quiet tonight.”

  Bones glanced up. “Sorry, luv, I’m just a bit preoccupied.”

  She pushed her plate back. At least, three dates later, she’d quit pretending that a bowl of lettuce was all she wanted for a meal.

  “Problems with your client?”

  Becca thought he was a consultant for a corporation looking to save finances by downsizing its nonessential employee positions. It was close to the truth, in a twisted sort of way.

  “Something like that.”

  The real problem was, Bones still wasn’t any closer to finding the LaLauries. They didn’t appear to have their own residence, but just moved from flat to flat of the people they murdered.

  And despite his walking Becca up and down every street in the Quarter the past three nights, she’d caught no glimpse of Delphine LaLaurie. Bones had come across several ghouls on those jaunts, but they were having a bit of harmless fun. Not looking to savage the first person thick enough to follow them inside a building.

  Becca reached out, touching his hand. “Do you know where you’re going to be next, after this job? And, ah, will you be leaving right away when it’s done?”

  He knew what she was really asking h
im. “I’ll be leaving straightaway when I’m finished. My work takes me all over the world, and leaves precious little time for anything else.” I’m not what you’re looking for, Becca.

  Hurt flashed on her face for a moment, quickly masked behind a false smile. “Sounds exciting.”

  Does it? In point of fact, it can be bloody lonely.

  “You know,” Becca said as the silence stretched, “I’d understand if you just want to drop me home after dinner…”

  “No,” Bones said at once, softening his tone when she blinked at how emphatic he sounded. “I’m sorry, I’ve been a right glum fellow, but I do want to spend more time with you tonight. If you’re willing.”

  He almost hoped she’d say she wasn’t. If the circumstances weren’t so dire, Bones would drop Becca at her house and compel her not to set foot in the city until this was over.

  But he couldn’t stand over the next freshly chewed body and know he might have been able to prevent it. Bones couldn’t sniff them out, not with the river of humanity thronging the streets, but he could have Becca give a good look at any female ghoul he found. One of these times, it would be Delphine.

  “I’d really like to spend more time with you, while I’m here,” Bones said, giving Becca a smile filled with possibilities.

  She smiled back, her scent of unease melting away from her.

  “I’d like that, too.”

  Rotten bastard you are, Bones thought. He didn’t let any of that show on his face, however. Instead, he signaled for the check.

  Power raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Bones turned, muttering a curse when he spied a familiar face headed their way.

  “Excuse me,” he ground out to Becca, rising.

  “’Allo,” Ralmiel called out, sliding into the seat opposite Bones’s. He gave a charming smile to Becca. “Who might you be, ma belle chérie?”

  “No one that concerns you,” Bones said curtly.

  Becca’s mouth dropped. Ralmiel looked offended. “As if you would need to protect such a lovely flower from me. My business is with you, mon ami. Not with people who happen to be around you.”

  Ralmiel didn’t have a reputation for harming innocent bystanders, but Bones wasn’t pleased at Becca being exposed to him. This whole situation was putting her at more risk than he’d intended. He’d have to change his plans for tomorrow night. But first things first.

  Bones sat down, keeping his hands close to the silver knives in his coat.

  “Is everything okay?” Becca asked, glancing back and forth between them.

  “Quite,” Bones replied, not letting his eyes stray from Ralmiel’s. “My friend just forgot his manners, interrupting our dinner.”

  “I was going to wait for you outside,” Ralmiel said, settling back in his chair expansively, “but when I saw your chér amie, I decided to conclude our business tomorrow. After I learn more about la belle here.”

  “I don’t like being spoken about as if I’m not even here,” Becca said, with a sharp glare at Ralmiel.

  The waiter came with the check. Bones dropped several bills onto it without counting them, not tearing his attention from Ralmiel for a fraction longer than needed.

  “Join us outside?” Bones asked, with an arched brow.

  Ralmiel nodded. “Of course.”

  Becca got her purse, still giving them wary glances. “Do you two need a minute alone to talk?”

  No, Bones thought coolly. But I’d like a minute alone to kill him. He picked up his whiskey glass, noting with satisfaction that it was near full, and rose from the table.

  “We’re fine, luv. Be finished up shortly.”

  Bones and Ralmiel kept their attention on each other’s every move as they walked outside. The tension was thick enough to slice. Almost casually, Bones took a sip of his whiskey. Next to them, a group of smokers waited to get into the restaurant.

  “What’s your plan, mate?” Bones asked. “Going to skulk after me and wait for your best chance?”

  Ralmiel smirked. “Non, mon ami. I’m going to follow her home and then skulk around after you.”

  Becca gasped. Bones just smiled. “I think not.”

  Then he flung his whiskey on Ralmiel, using the lighter from the smoker nearest him to send Ralmiel up in flames.

  Ralmiel screamed, swatting at the fire that covered the front of him. Several bystanders yelled as well. Bones didn’t wait to admire his handiwork. He yanked Becca with him through the crowd, ignoring her horrified sputtering. Once he found an alley, he propelled himself up in the night, covering both of them with his coat. Less chance of being noticed, since his coat was black against the night’s sky.

  Ralmiel wouldn’t be following anyone, not in his condition.

  Becca’s scream at being airborne was cut off by Bones clapping a hand over her mouth. He didn’t bother with the rooftops this time, but flew over the Quarter and beyond. He glanced back a few times, but there was no flying form chasing him. It would be too much to hope that Ralmiel hadn’t managed to douse the fire and was dead, but at least now he wouldn’t know where Becca lived.

  She kicked and squirmed the entire way, making terrified grunting sounds against his hand. When they reached her neighborhood, Bones glanced around, saw no one loitering about, and set them on the ground by her front door.

  “Shh, you’re fine, Becca,” he said, lasering her with his gaze. “I drove you home after dinner, and nothing out of the ordinary happened.”

  She smiled at him, the fear melting away on her face.

  “Thanks for a lovely evening,” she said.

  Bones sighed, again regretting the necessity of using her. When this is over, he promised her silently, you’re getting a large donation in your bank account. It’s the bloody least I can do.

  “No, luv, thank you,” he replied, brushing his lips across hers.

  He’d intended it to be only a brief kiss, but she opened her mouth and twined her tongue with his, the scent of desire wafting from her.

  Bones kissed her with more intensity, letting his hands slide to her waist. She gasped, and then groaned when his hips rubbed against hers.

  Money isn’t all I can give her, Bones reflected. Becca didn’t want him to leave her at her door tonight. Her heartbeat and scent were screaming that to him.

  She pulled away long enough to whisper, “Come inside.”

  Again, it was the least he could do.

  Chapter 7

  The float rounded the first street corner to the clamor of cheers. It was a mock-up of an opera stage, with a faux upper balcony and a piano in the forefront. Becca, barely recognizable in curled wig, theater makeup, and a long, Victorian dress, beamed at the crowd. Seated at the piano, Bones ran his hands over the keys while the float’s speakers blared out the familiar score from Phantom of the Opera.

  More cheers came from the street’s onlookers, especially when Bones stood up and bowed. He wore a black tuxedo, with that trademark half-face mask obscuring his features, and a dark wig on his head. The other actors on the float mimed a musical rehearsal as Bones stalked toward Becca with the exaggerated seductiveness—and menace—of the Phantom.

  It hadn’t been hard to switch himself and Becca with the original couple for this float. Just a few flashes from his eyes, and those people were happily drinking rum instead of playing Christine and the Phantom. None of the other actors argued, either. There were days when it was good to be a vampire.

  Perched as she was on the fake balcony of the float, Becca had a bird’s-eye view of the people up and down the streets. This parade went all through the Quarter, and in their costumes, even Ralmiel would be hard-pressed to recognize either of them. Becca was as anonymous as Bones could make her, having no idea that, subconsciously, she was scanning faces in the crowd looking for Delphine.

  After lip-synching a snippet from “Music of the Night” with Becca, Bones jumped down and walked around the outside of the float. This kept Becca’s attention where it should be; away from him, and on the fac
es upturned at her. If that deviated from the scheduled act for the float, so be it. It was only three days until Fat Tuesday. Soon the LaLauries would finish their murderous scavenging and leave the city. There were more important things at stake than following a parade script.

  It was after eleven at night, which meant the crowds were at their peak. The parade was halfway down Bourbon Street when Becca suddenly stopped waving and flinging beads. Her eyes took on a glazed look as the directive Bones had instilled in her a week ago kicked in and bore results.

  “The woman from that night. There she is.”

  Becca didn’t even seem to be aware that she’d spoken. Bones swung his gaze in the direction Becca was staring, cursing the crush of people around him. There was a sea of faces, half of them female, and every third of those with dark hair. He jumped up to where Becca was, muttering, “Show me.”

  Becca ignored everything around her, fixated on the directive Bones had compelled in her before: find the woman from that night. With a stiff gesture, she pointed into the crowd. Bones searched the faces ahead of them, looking for that faint, telltale luminance of undead flesh.

  A woman about ten meters ahead turned around. Her hair was black and curly, her smile was wide, and her beautiful features were set off by pale, perfect skin.

  Delphine.

  Delphine noticed him, too. At first her eyes flicked over him disinterestedly, but then she paused. Narrowed her gaze. And turned around and began walking away.

  “Stay here,” Bones ordered Becca, reaching inside his coat to pull out a large, curved knife. The crowd gasped, thinking it was part of the act. He ignored them as he jumped down, roughly shoving people out of his path.