“Why have you come here?” Veritas hissed at her.
I held up my hand, ignoring the incredulous look the Law Guardian gave me as I shushed her.
“Majestic, so nice of you to come by,” I said, sounding a lot calmer than I felt. “I hope you found the place because of your ghost friends telling you about what was going down. Not because you’re just showing up late to the hate rally.”
Her deep brown eyes met mine, face absolutely expressionless. She walked forward, gaze flitting around the cemetery to look at the fallen bodies of the ghouls around her. Those still living who’d crouched back in fear minutes before now began to edge toward her.
“Apollyon is dead?” Marie asked, no hint of what she was thinking in her buttery smooth voice.
“Very,” I replied before Veritas could speak. “Most of his top lieutenants are dead, too.”
Marie was now ahead of all the other ghouls, only a few dozen feet of headstones separating her from the line of Master vampires.
“And your plans for the others?”
I glanced behind her again, anticipating a seething mass of Remnants appearing at any second. We hadn’t had a chance to formally discuss among ourselves what we were doing with the surrendered ghouls, but I didn’t wait to consult anyone before I answered.
“We’re letting them go.”
“You have no authority to make those decisions,” Veritas snapped.
“What a shame.” Marie’s voice sliced across the air, that sweet Southern twang gone and filled with the echoing tenor of the dead instead. “If Cat were correct, then I would have no cause to attack you to protect my people. I want peace. Don’t force me to war.”
Veritas stared at Marie, her pretty, deceptively young-looking features hard. I only hoped she’d had run-ins with Marie in the past to know that the voodoo queen’s new spooky voice was a warning that she was about to unleash all kinds of pain. If not, I didn’t have time to convince Veritas about how ferocious Remnants were. I’d only have time to try to raise my own, or this would turn into a bloodbath with the casualties heavily on our side this time. Marie had her hands clasped in front of her in a deceptively casual gesture, but I knew that just meant the sharp point in her ring was pressed to her flesh.
Only Mencheres’s power could be fast enough to stop her from drawing her blood to summon the Remnants. Even though I saw him walk up out of the corner of my eye, relieved to see Denise and Kira were also with him, I didn’t dare look over at Mencheres for fear any gesture would antagonize Marie into acting. Plus, if Mencheres froze her, he’d better kill her, too. She’d never let such a thing slide, especially with witnesses. And if we wiped out Apollyon, his lieutenants, and Marie Laveau all in the same night, we’d start the war ourselves.
“Cat has no authority to make those decisions,” Veritas repeated. Beside me, Bones tensed even as I mentally braced to start counter defenses against a horde of diaphanous killers. “But she is correct nonetheless,” Veritas finished.
It took everything in me not to let out a loud whoop of relief. Some of the tension leaking off Bones into my emotions lessened as well, even though not a fraction of his posture eased.
“They’ll make us slaves,” one of the ghouls called out bitterly, to a chorus of grim sounds of agreement.
“No they won’t,” Marie said, managing to sound both strident and comforting at the same time. “Peace does not mean vampires will ever rule over us. They are not strong enough to do so. As long as I live, the ghoul nation will always be equal to vampires in strength.”
I didn’t see Marie’s fingers move, but I felt the snap of power in the air right before the Remnants appeared behind her, looking like a transparent version of hell’s army. Their numbers were staggering, their energy moving over me like icy waves along my skin. My bullet holes had long ago closed, so some part of me roared that I needed to draw my own blood, now, if I had any hope of holding them off. But Marie didn’t send the Remnants after anyone. She had them pile behind her instead, building up into a wall that rose higher than the trees and widened to reach the far side of the cemetery, easily five times the number I’d raised with Vlad.
If this was a dick-measuring contest, I found myself thinking numbly, then I was Pee Wee and she was John Holmes.
“Hail to our queen!” one of the ghouls called out, echoed almost at once by another cry of “Hail!” More ghouls repeated the salutation, until all of them practically trembled with their shouted allegiance.
Marie bowed her head at the acknowledgments, and then the wall of Remnants collapsed, disappearing into the ground. This time, I saw the flick of her finger that preceded her drawing the necessary blood to send the lethal apparitions back to their graves.
I quit looking at Marie to glance at Bones. He shook his head in a cynical way that mirrored my own thoughts. By getting rid of Apollyon and his top henchmen, we’d cleared the way for Marie to step in as queen of not just New Orleans, but the entire ghoul nation, judging from this reaction. If she’d taken on Apollyon herself, she might indeed have weakened their species through civil war as his supporters battled hers. But with him gone, she was now her people’s loyal savior and protector.
Hail, my ass.
I met her hazelnut gaze, noting the satisfaction in her eyes, before tapping the side of my mouth in silent warning. Marie might be the queen of the flesh-eaters now, but she and I shared a secret that could bring her down. Her people wouldn’t be cheering her so adoringly if they knew she’d shared her power with a vampire, giving me the tools necessary to bring down Apollyon. And if she tried to use her new position as a springboard for a war against the vampire world, she’d soon find herself fighting ghost for ghost against every spook I could rally using her borrowed abilities and the help of my friend Fabian.
But when Marie inclined her head at me in a polite way, not an antagonistic one, I felt a twinge of hope. Marie was many things, but rash and stupid weren’t among them, so she’d know all this. With the incredible powers that many Master vampires had, plus what I’d absorbed from Marie and now knew about ghosts and the vital role they could play in battle, the two species were pretty evenly matched again, even with Marie’s abilities.
The scales had been tipped when Gregor’s death made Marie’s allegiance to ghouls alone, but maybe balance was what Marie intended all along when she forced me to drink her blood, using the one form of threat I could never refuse: Bones’s life. I could only hope that evening the scales for the sake of peace had been her plan . . . and be ready in case it wasn’t.
I inclined my head at her in the same respectful manner, but still kept my finger near my mouth. A slight smile creased her face before Marie turned away. Both our messages were sent and received.
“Come,” Marie said to the surviving ghouls. “We will leave together. You have nothing to fear from them. We are at peace now.”
As one, the ghouls began to follow Marie when she turned to walk out of the cemetery the same way she came in. I wondered if they picked up the warning note in her smooth voice when she said that we were at peace. I had, and once again felt a twinge of hope. If any of them went behind Marie’s back to start with vampires again, they’d find out the wrath of the voodoo queen was just as frightening as what I or any other vampire would do to them.
“She used no spell,” Veritas murmured in surprise.
I gave her a brief, jaded look. “That’s because she doesn’t practice black magic; she is black magic,” I said, repeating Marie’s words from that day.
“Can we trust her?” Veritas asked Mencheres, so low I could barely hear her.
He cast a thoughtful look at where Marie exited the cemetery before bestowing a single glance my way.
“We can trust her not to be foolish,” Mencheres replied at last. “Beyond that, we will have to see.”
I looked at the direction in which the voodoo queen disappeared with my own shrug. Time would tell Marie’s true motives. Until then, we had to pick up the pieces and mo
ve on.
Speaking of pieces . . .
I cast a glance around at the remains of the battle. Shriveling limbs, bodies, and blood stained the ground in various dark patches. What a mess. We’d have to burn most of the areas where the battles took place, both to hide the evidence of undead blood and just in case any of Denise’s blood had been spilled. I’d call Tate and have him keep the local cops back once we started the fires. It still felt strange to know Tate was the one I’d be speaking to about containing the scene, instead of hearing Don’s voice on the other line when I phoned in the details.
Even thinking of my uncle seemed to conjure his image out of the corner of my eye; wearing a suit and tie, gray hair impeccably combed, tugging on his eyebrow like he did when he was annoyed or reflective. Several times over the past ten days, a mirage of my uncle would appear in my peripheral vision only to vanish as soon as I turned around. Grief did funny things to people, I supposed, but I didn’t turn yet. I had bullets to dig out of my body and a whole lot of other unpleasant things to do, but just for a few moments, I wanted to pretend that Don was still with me.
“Lucifer’s bloody ball sack, I don’t believe it,” Bones hissed.
I did turn then. As expected, the image of my uncle vanished, but I was surprised to see Bones staring at that same spot behind me, his mouth dropped open like . . .
Like he’d seen a ghost.
“No,” I breathed.
Bones met my gaze, and one look in his eyes told me everything.
“Son of a bitch,” I whispered, my emotions swirling faster than a blender set on high as disbelief gave way to realization. Then I strode toward the area where Bones had been staring.
“Donald Bartholomew Williams,” I called out loudly. “Get your ass back here now!”
Acknowledgments
This might look long-winded but it actually doesn’t scratch the surface to acknowledge all the vital persons involved in the Night Huntress series. For everyone I don’t mention by name, please know it’s not out of lack of appreciation, but simply lack of room instead.
As usual, I have to start off by thanking God for all the amazing opportunities I’ve been given. I remember when all I asked for was a book to be published. Luckily for me, You had much bigger plans.
Thanks so much to my wonderful editor, Erika Tsang, and the rest of the fabulous team at Avon Books. Nancy Yost, my agent, continues to be worth her weight in gold. A big shout-out goes to Tage, Erin, Kimberley, and Carol, for all you ladies do over at Frost Fans. Thanks so much also to the Night Huntress readers for your support of Cat, Bones, and the rest of their “twisted little fang family.” I will never be able to articulate how much I appreciate you spreading the word about the series or contacting me with notes of encouragement. “You rule!” doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Thanks to Miriam Struett and Angelika Szakácsi, winners of the Name That Kitty contest. I think Helsing (short for Van Helsing) is the perfect name for Cat’s cat!
And, of course, endless love and thanks go to my husband and family, for more things than I could ever begin to list.
Excerpt from One Grave at a Time
Cat Crawfield . . . Russell,” I introduced myself to the older man after a minuscule pause. Okay, Bones and I weren’t married according to human law, but by vampire standards, we were bound together tighter than a piece of paper could ever make two people.
A wave of pleasure brushed against my subconscious, drifting out from the shields Bones had erected around himself as soon as our helicopter landed. He liked that I’d added the last name he’d been born with to my own. That was all the officiating I needed to decide that I’d be Catherine Crawfield Russell from this day forth.
Even though I hadn’t needed Don’s reaction to deduce that Jason Madigan was going to be a pain in my ass, years of strict farm-bred manners made it impossible for me not to offer my hand. Madigan looked at it for a fraction too long before shaking it.
Yep. Not enough calluses to come from anything other than pens, mouse pads, or phones, just like I’d thought. And his hesitancy revealed that our new “consultant” had a prejudice against women or vampires, neither of which endeared Madigan to me any further.
Bones stated his name with none of my hand-offering compulsions, but then again, his childhood had been spent begging or thieving to survive the harsh circumstances of being the bastard son of a prostitute in eighteenth-century London. Not being endlessly drilled about manners and respecting your elders like mine. He stared at Madigan without blinking, his hands resting inside the pockets of his leather coat, his half smile more challenging than courteous.
Madigan took the hint. He dropped his hand from mine and didn’t attempt extending it to Bones. The faintest expression of relief might have even crossed his face, too.
Prejudice against vampires, then. Perfect.
“You were right, weren’t you?” Madigan said to Tate with a jovialness that rang false. “He did come with her.”
For a second my gaze flicked to Don. Good God, could Madigan see him? He was human, but maybe Madigan had some psychic abilities . . .
“With vampires, if you invite one spouse, the other is automatically included as well,” Bones replied lightly. “That’s an age-old rule, but I’ll forgive you for not knowing it.”
Oh, Madigan meant Bones. I stifled my snort. What he said was true, but even if it wasn’t, Bones wouldn’t have stayed behind because some stuffy suit wanted to pull a power play.
“What’s up with the ID check on the roof?” I asked to steer things away from the staring contest between Madigan and Bones that the consultant would lose. No one could out-stare a vampire.
Madigan shifted his attention to me, his natural scent souring ever so slightly underneath its preponderance of chemical enhancement.
“One of the oversights I noted when I arrived two days ago was that no one checked my identification when I landed. This facility is too important to be compromised by something as simple as sloppy security.”
Tate bristled, hints of emerald appearing in his indigo eyes, but I just snorted.
“There are three security checkpoints on the ground, but if you’re arriving by air, they would have double-checked the identity of the aircraft, the crew, and the flight plan, so whoever’s inside is who they’re supposed to be. Besides”—another snort—“if anyone got here by air that didn’t belong, you think they’d be able to get away with their aircraft in missile range and several vampires able to track them by scent alone?”
Instead of being offended by my blunt analysis of how useless a roof ID check was, Madigan just stared at me in a thoughtful way.
“I heard you had difficulty with authority and following orders. Seems that wasn’t exaggerated.”
“Nope, that’s true,” I replied with a cheery smile. “What else did you hear?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Too many things to list. Your former team raved about you so much I simply had to meet you.”
“Yeah?” I didn’t buy that as the reason I was here, but I’d play along. “Well, whatever you do, ignore what my mom has to say about me.”
Madigan didn’t even crack a smile. Uptight prick.
“What does an operations consultant do, I wonder?” Bones asked, as if he hadn’t been busy using his mindreading skills to filch on Madigan from the moment we arrived. I’d have done the same thing myself, but my mental snooping abilities weren’t active at the moment.
“Ensures that the transfer of management in a highly sensitized Homeland Security Department is as smooth as it needs to be,” Madigan said, that smugness back in his tone. “I’ll be reviewing all records over the next few weeks. Missions, personnel, budgets, everything. This department is too critical to only hope that Sergeant Bradley is up to the task of running it.”
Tate didn’t so much as twitch a brawny muscle, even though the implied insult had to burn. For all the issues I’d had with him in the past, Tate’s competence, dedication, and work
ethic had never been among them.
“You won’t find anyone more qualified to run this operation now that Don’s gone,” I said with quiet steel.
“That’s not why he’s here,” Don hissed. He’d been quiet for the past several minutes, but now he sounded more agitated than I’d ever heard him. Did becoming a ghost give my normally urbane uncle less control over his emotions, or did he and Madigan have a nasty history together?
“He’s the head of a really covert branch of the CIA, so if he’s here, he’s after something more important than auditing Tate’s job performance,” Don went on.
“I’m particularly interested in getting caught up on your records,” Madigan said to me, oblivious to the other conversation in the room.
I shrugged. “Knock yourself out. Hope you like stories about the bad guys—or girls—getting it in the end.”
“My favorite kind,” Madigan replied with a glint in his eye that I didn’t care for.
“Are Dave, Juan, Cooper, and my mom in the Wreck Room?” I asked, done with playing these stupid subtext word games. Seeing them would distract from the urge I had to check Madigan’s ass for a large bug. If I spent much more time with him, my temper might overcome my common sense, and that wouldn’t be good. The smartest thing would be to play docile and let Tate find out if Madigan was really sniffing around this operation for ulterior motives.
“Why do you want to know their location?” Madigan asked coolly, as if I had nefarious intentions he needed to protect them from.
My smile hid the fact that I was gritting my teeth. “Because since I’m here, I want to say hi to my friends and family,” I managed to reply, proud of myself for not ending the sentence with dickhead.
“Soldiers and trainees are too busy to drop what they’re doing just because a visitor wants to chat,” Madigan stated crisply.