Okay. Not good.
Ming slid off the small table and onto the floor, standing. Unlike Grégoire and Leo, Ming had no pin. Maybe she didn’t need one. Maybe she had been under the control of Tau for so long that she was biddable just by the pulse of magic. My bringing her as my ace in the hole suddenly looked a lot less brilliant. She walked with the snake-spine-slither of the vamp on the prowl, head swiveling too far to the left and too far to the right. Hunting.
Ming set her eyes on Lachish. Leo set his eyes on Molly. Grégoire mewled, where he lay on the floor, and tried to stand. There was too much magic. That’s what had happened to the Gray Between. I was surrounded by the green mist. It was on my clothes, on my skin, in my hair. It was interfering with everything. And if I couldn’t get to the Gray Between, I couldn’t shift, couldn’t heal, and for certain couldn’t bubble time.
I repocketed the blob and raced to the nearest Onorio. I tore his leather jacket open to find enough blades to run that good-sized butcher shop. I took three, a long sword in my right hand and two in my left, the blades held forward and back, like a helicopter blade. I cut through the bloody blob with all three steel blades, coating the edges with the mixed blood, smeared there by Gee, and with magics. Then I raced to Tau. And I cut her.
CHAPTER 20
In the Blood of My Enemy
She threw up her arm in a defensive gesture, shock on her face. Her defensive spell was too late to stop all damage, as if defensive magics hadn’t been prepared for. As if was no one was supposed to fight back with mundane weapons.
Stupid girl, Beast thought as my blades slid through the rising wards, cutting.
It wasn’t a killing strike. Her raw power was enough to stop the edges of the swords long before that. But it was enough. Maybe. Moving in Beast-speed, I watched as two of my circling blades cut along her raised arm, shallow enough to do no long-term damage, but deep enough to hurt like a son of a gun. Taking her blood with them. Anointing my blades, the same way she had anointed Grégoire’s, because, for sure, blood had been part of the Nicauds’ dark working.
Killing claws in the blood of my enemy, Beast screamed inside me. The sound came out of my throat, a puma’s fighting scream of rage.
Tau screamed back, the sound a shrieking peal of anguish, so close to a vampire’s death scream it was hard to determine the difference. She dropped to the floor beneath an emerald ward, hard as diamond, cradling her arm. Her mother rushed to her and slid into the ward as if it were made of water, already muttering incantations of healing.
I slashed my helicopter blades through the mist in the air, and the green fog we were breathing parted. Gathered. Tightened into tight, irregular, balls of dull green, like sleet. Congealed and hardened. The solidified mist fell to the floor, raining down with slight pings. The air cleared instantly except around Tau and her mother, where the mist grew more dense and then settled on their personal wards like a layer of glue. Score one for blood-magic used against a blood-magic user by a nonmagic user. That had to be record of some kind.
The edge of one blade I had used on the air was coated with a gummy slime. I tossed it out of the way, to land with a clang in the corner. I still had two blood blades. I raced to Leo.
Yanking his arm, I whirled him around and pulled back my right arm. I stabbed Leo in the center of his abdomen, exactly where the stake had been. “Molly!” I called. As the blade slid from Leo’s undead flesh, I plucked the brooch free and whipped it through the air to Evan.
His ward parted and closed again with an audible snap, the brooch in his hand. Beside him, Molly was waking again, her hands going to her belly.
Something hit me, in the same spot where the scarlet leathers had been nicked. I looked down to see another scrape. Something hit me again, a little to the left, but hard enough this time to hurt. Green energies swarmed in front of my face, a confused-looking mass of undirected power.
Tau had thrown a spell at me. The magics had impacted my leathers, rebounded, and gathered themselves. In front of my eyes, her working reshaped itself. And shot back. The spell hit Tau, who fell again. Silent this time, her screaming having stopped cold.
Gee. He had wiped his blood all over me and all over the blob. Somehow he had warded me. Or my clothes. Or . . . added to the spells on my leathers that protected me against magical attack. Yeah. That.
I whipped my head back to Leo. The green in his eyes fluttered like flames in a wind, and vanished. He blinked once and his pupils constricted. His fangs clicked back. “My Jane. What . . . ?” He looked down and his eyes widened in a purely human gesture. “You stabbed me? Mon Dieu!” Oddly enough, he sounded surprised, maybe even traumatized at the reality.
“Yep. After I staked you. That’s why you feel so crappy. You can thank me later.” I put an Onorio blade in his hand and said, “I figured it out. The young witch’s blood”—I pointed at the bloody blade—“is also Ming’s blood, because she’s, in a way, Ming’s scion.”
And then it hit me. Every working of the Nicauds was blood-based. And their blood or Ming’s blood was disruptive to the workings. “It’s also powering the spells she’s using,” I said. “Bringing Ming? Was an act of genius.”
“But of course, mon amour.” Leo flipped the short sword, testing its balance. “Je suis brillante.” He had just taken credit for my idea. Of course. He lunged into the fight, taking on Ming. Marlene stepped away from her daughter and threw a red-hued spell at Lachish. Lachish and two other witches, standing in a triangle, shielded against the attack spell and threw one of their own, coating Marlene in a cocoon of magics that looked like spun pearl, if pearl came alive and vibrated with might.
Tau was on her knees, under a ward, picking apart her own spell, as if peeling tar off her body.
Now was my chance to obey Gee, his words still ringing in my head. You must protect the children. Always. Molly’s children. I tapped on the mixed magic ward and Evan looked around before dropping it. I grabbed the Truebloods and hauled them bodily out of the ballroom, through the Chaperone’s Alcove, and the short hallway through the office. With another swipe of the Tau-bloodied, vamp-killer short sword, I cut through the black-light wards, and we all raced out the side door.
The couple looked like crap, but there was no blood and I didn’t smell amniotic fluid. However, Molly’s fancy dress was blackened and ruined, and I didn’t want to know what had happened to it. I pressed the blob into Evan’s hands. “You said it could take three people out of the ward. Baby makes three, in my book. Go. Tell the ones out front to be ready for anything.”
“Fine. You take this, then.” Careful not to touch the two brooches together and knock me out again, he handed me the brooch that had been in Leo’s flesh, still tacky with vamp blood. I skimmed it into the small pocket where the blob had rested.
Before either of them could reply, I shoved them through the witch hedge of thorns and into the side yard, to safety. In the same motion, I ripped at the Gray Between and Beast forced a half form onto me in a wrenching of bones that left me huddled in a mewling heap on the small porch.
“Are you okay?” someone asked.
“What about us?” another voice complained.
I made it to my feet, the toes of my combat boots now massive, my paws pushing out the sides, which had been made to change shape with them. I had to say that they looked really weird with the extra width. I caught a breath, aching in every part of me, as I tried to straighten my back.
Behind me, the waitstaff, the chef, the sommelier, and a few others huddled on the small stoop. They had followed me out through the sword-sliced Nicaud door ward and now all were pressed back at the sight of me, squishing each other tight against the house, and because there was only one blob, they were still trapped. “You’re out of the house on the porch,” I said. “That’s all I got.”
“What the hell are you?” the chef asked.
I chuffed a laugh and s
printed back through the door just as Beast bubbled time.
My belly cramped and tore. I stumbled and a knobby knee hit the floor before I could catch myself on the office desk. I knocked papers off in a flying shuffle that caught in the air the moment they slid away from my time bubble. I held my gut with a hand as I pushed upright again and felt something new in my belly. A depression ran along my right side, a space where the muscle had ripped and left only soft tissue like a hole in a foam pillow. It ran from my ribs down to my hipbone, soft and slightly spongy, as if something was missing like a part of my abdominal wall and muscle. I chuffed in disquiet, and the sound was growly.
Holding my side, I stalked through the house, my narrow waist and wide hips moving with a catlike roll, despite the missing parts. The sounds from the ballroom were echoing, heavy, deep, and vibrating painfully on my ears. The magics had a sound too, a rustling, shushing sound like fire reaching for dry leaves high in a tree. And the room ahead was glowing a reddish shade, different from the greenish one when I left only a moment ago in real time.
I stopped in the doorway. In real time, the ballroom was on fire. The walls were burning, a green fire that was paused midway, licking up the draperies. Black and red smoke billowed into a separate working, the form of which I couldn’t yet see. The parquet flooring was blackened and heated beneath my boots. Amalie was going to be one unhappy hostess. And the Witch Conclave would never get their security deposit back.
But there was something symbolic about the fire. Fire was used to cleanse, purify, sanctify. Just as I had once cleaned my soul home of Gee’s blue watching eyes, the Nicauds were cleansing the witches and the vamps. But their form of cleansing was brought about with blood and suffering and the kidnapping and draining of a vampire and the deaths of many humans who had been dumped in a swamp. This was using evil against evil, and that was never successful.
The Nicaud witches were standing back to back, throwing fireballs at their enemies. The workings were about the size of softballs and they were being tossed underhanded, the orbs looking like red glitter that had been pasted over celery-green spherical Christmas tree ornaments, with a hint of black in the centers. There were three in the air and two about to impact witch wards. A sixth had smashed onto the ward of the woman who had asked Leo the good questions. Her ward was falling and her skin was burned, second-degree blisters weeping and breaking. The attacking sphere was in the act of changing shape, spreading out. Flames licked to her, as if hungry to taste her flesh, ready to wrap the witch up in a binding of fiery pain. Three other witches were down and burning. It was no longer Gee and me burning. Now it was everyone. The rest of the witches had retreated to the Chaperone’s Alcove and the doors to the rest of the house, where they were working to remove the Nicauds’ sealing ward.
Leo and Grégoire were engaging the Nicauds, one on either side, and appeared to be in the act of batting the fireballs aside with bloodied swords. Ming stood by the vamps, her eyes still green with flames but not reacting to anything. Her body displayed a number of wounds, suggesting that the fighting vamps had cut her each time they needed fresh blood on their blades. There was something horrible and evil about that, but I couldn’t deal with the thought of a blood-sucking vamp victim who should be rescued. Again. Who had been made into a victim by witches and now by her own kind. Maybe I could fix it later. Tomorrow, Tara.
I went inside the ballroom and considered all the people and my options. I could try to take them all outside, one by one or even two by two, and stack them up on a porch. I could try to put out the fire with buckets of water. But all that would take time I didn’t have. Not with my belly cramping so badly. So it looked as though I’d have to do this the hard way, flying by the seat of my pants like always. One day it was gonna get me killed. I wondered if today was that day.
I stepped to the dark working that was about to land on the wise witch and poked it with my blade, bringing it into my time. The working fell to the floor and darkened. Like a dried-out shriveled fruit, maybe. Good enough. I poked all the Nicauds’ attacking spell orbs that were hanging in the air and watched them fall. Not like fruit. More like rotting water balloons.
I turned my Nicaud-bloodied blade across my body and cut through the Nicauds’ ward, stepping up to Marlene. Pressed the point into her neck, just deep enough to draw blood and make her gasp when she felt it, I wrapped my other hand around her waist and pulled her in. She left real time and entered the bubble with me.
“Move, try a spell, and I’ll cut through your neck and out the other side.” My voice had become a growl in the half form and my mouth felt wrong, making it hard to form words. “Then I’ll cut out, forward, and take out your esophagus, trachea, jugulars, and carotids. You’ll bleed out in seconds.” Marlene swallowed, the sound loud in the odd vibrations of bubbled time. She spread her fingers and raised her hands.
“What dis is?” she asked. “What you do?” Her tone changed and she said, “You stop time!”
I pulled her even closer. “We’re going out the front door. You are going to be quiet. Totally silent. You are going to walk the whole way without stumbling or tripping or trying to get away.” I took a breath and caught the scent of her blood.
I’d miscalculated. Maybe a lot. Before I could exhale, Marlene shoved back against me, allowing the blade to slice through her flesh. Her blood splattered over me, and into her working. The magics whipped out black and brilliant blue, the bolo spell. It shouldn’t have worked in the bubble of time. It should have been inert. Instead the black strands wrapped around me, and the electric balls pressed to my spine. I stopped. Just . . . stopped.
Marlene kept one hand on me and swiveled her head, staring through the energies of the Gray Between. But when she spoke, it wasn’t about my magics or the fact that time was stopped. She said, “You de one what hurt my boys.”
“Yeah,” I said, not backing down even though it might be smarter to keep my mouth shut. “They raped that girl. They deserved way worse.”
My arms were bound tightly against me. My fingers began to tingle as the bolo did its work, tightening, its magic binding into me, despite the magics on the leathers. My sword slid to the floor. Guns didn’t work in the Gray Between. I couldn’t get to a bladed weapon. But I had my claws. . . .
“Dey. My. Boys. Unnerstan? Mine!”
I nodded, unable to do anything but agree.
“You like de one what kill my Antoine. Evil like dat . . . dat animal.”
Yes, I thought. Skinwalker. But not spear-finger or liver-eater. Not u’tlun’ta.
Marlene slid one of the sterling stakes out of my hair and pulled me across the room, my feet following an unspoken command to obey her actions, the bolo spell forcing me to comply. But my body wasn’t acting with a normal sense of balance and I tripped over something on the floor. Swayed drunkenly.
Marlene stabbed Grégoire with the silver stake. “No,” I tried to say, but the word was stuck in my throat with the gathering tears. They filled my eyes and I blinked against them. She removed a second stake and stabbed Ming. She pulled me to Leo and repeated the motion. “Hem you pick up,” she said, patting my arms, releasing the binding on them. But before I could react, the bolo tightened on my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
Unable to refuse, I bent at the knees and lifted Leo over my shoulder. My breath whooshed out of me in a pained grunt. My belly tore again. Leo made a soft breathy sound, too low for anyone but me to hear, and went still, his blood trickling down my back. But he didn’t move or resist.
Worse, I had a feeling I was bleeding internally. The working was leaching away my energy. I was dead on my feet. Leo and I were both in bad shape.
Lastly, Marlene pulled me to her daughter and took my hand, forcing me to touch her. I nearly fell to my knees as my strength was depleted. Bubbling time for two—four now—was not a wise move.
Tau gasped and looked around. “What—? Mama?”
“We gots what we come for. Let’s go.”
“What is that?” Tau pointed at me.
“Dat dere a monster carrying a monster. We use dem both.”
Together we four walked out of the burning room, out of the house. The three security types who I had positioned on the front porch before the ward went back up were frozen in real time. Ro Moore, Brenda Rezak, and Wrassler, facing the front door, armed, holding weapons. I tried to reach out and touch one of them, but I didn’t make it before Marlene grabbed my knobby fingers and yanked back on them. Dislocating my fingers. I dropped to my knees and vomited all over the porch and dropped Leo with a thump that sounded slow and basso. I landed on him. The bolo spell bound me tighter, cutting into my skin where it touched. I smelled my blood on the air. Marlene didn’t let go of me or my fingers or her daughter. She kicked me, her foot finding the torn place in my belly with unerring accuracy.
I retched and tasted blood, but used the time to assess my options. I was still tied up in the bolo spell. I didn’t know what the working did, other than cut into me and make me agreeable to most anything they ordered, which was bad enough, but could become a lot worse, fast. I didn’t have the blob anymore. But I did have the brooch. And Leo’s blood. And the bolo might work differently in no time. Like, maybe I could get out of it. Somehow.
Marlene studied the witch ward and laughed. She said to her daughter, “Don’ let go of dis monster. But put out your hand. Break dis ward. Dis nothing for you power.”
I lifted the hand on the witch’s off side—the not broken hand—and checked for the brooch. Still there. Then I eased my fingers between Leo’s body and mine and got two fingertips and my thumb around the silver stake. His belly was in bad shape, numerous cuts, punctures, and what felt like intestines (assuming vamps have intestines?) pushing up at the nexus of the wounds. The stink of silver-tainted vamp blood assailed my nostrils, revolting on my tortured stomach.