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.
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 faces 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.
Her dark head slipped below the crowd as she ducked and vanished from his sight. Bones increased his pace, almost throwing people to the side. Soon the police would notice the disturbance, but he didn’t care. His attention was focused on one goal. Don’t let Delphine escape.
He glimpsed her again, darting quickly through people with her head lowered. Delphine glanced over her shoulder, and their eyes met once more. She smiled, lovely and evil. Then she punched the person closest to her and ran.
Bones gave up pretending to be human. He chased after Delphine with all his supernatural speed. In the next moment, he was upon the young man Delphine had struck. The man was on his knees, blood pouring out between hands clutched
to his stomach. She’d punched him hard enough to tear right through the bloke’s guts. It was a mortal injury—unless Bones stopped to save him.
He made his decision in an instant and kept going. It was worth the sacrifice of one innocent victim to save countless others. Delphine had underestimated her hunter by thinking this would secure her escape.
Another burst of speed brought him closer. Delphine was fast, but he was quicker. Savage anticipation coursed through him. His hand clenched on his knife. Almost there…
Just as Bones was nearly upon her, an arrow ripped through his chest, bringing an explosion of pain. He roared as he tore it out, plowing through people well below eye level to make his heart a far harder target. Ralmiel. He’d kill the sod for his wretched timing.
Another arrow landed in his back, missing his heart again, but showing Ralmiel hadn’t given up. The silver burned, yet Bones didn’t slow to pull it out. He couldn’t risk losing Delphine, pain be damned.
Every person he jostled by in the crowd felt like he was giving the arrow a good twist, however. Bones gritted his teeth and continued on, cursing the people in his way, the blaring music, the bloody beads, the myriad smells that made Delphine impossible to track by scent, and the Cajun hitter determined to mount him on his trophy wall.
Bones caught another arrow to the neck, skewering him clean through and spinning him around in rage. Blast it all, Ralmiel would get lucky with one of his shots soon, and Bones couldn’t kill Delphine if he was dead himself.
He took his knife and hacked the front of the arrow off, then ripped it out of his throat. Fiery pain throbbed for a moment until the wound healed. Bones kept moving, zigzagging, until he reached the side of a building and then shot straight up. Once on the roof, he tore his mask off; his gaze was sizzling emerald as he sought out his target.
Ralmiel was on the roof across the street, over the MAISON BOURBON sign. The Cajun didn’t smile or crack any jokes this time. He fitted another arrow in his crossbow and fired.
Bones whirled to the left, leaving the arrow to sail past him, then whirled again when another rapidly fired. And another.
Sod this, Bones thought. He folded one arm across his chest and then vaulted at Ralmiel, his other hand holding the curving knife. Ralmiel fired off two more arrows, but they landed in Bones’s arm, not his heart. Then Ralmiel jumped back, but too slow. One hard slash cleaved the crossbow in two. Another swipe split open Ralmiel’s chest. The blade was steel, not silver, since Bones had intended it for decapitating a ghoul instead of killing a vampire.
Still, the wound was deep. Ralmiel floundered, trying unsuccessfully to wrest away. Bones held on to him and raised the knife again. This one takes off your head, Bones thought grimly, swinging the blade. And that kills everything, doesn’t it?
But the knife swept through thin air instead. Bones snarled in frustration, his knees hitting the roof as the vampire under him disappeared. He spun around, just in case the blighter was about to reappear behind him with silver at the ready, but there was nothing.
Cold fury filled Bones. He hacked off the end of the arrow still piercing his back, then yanked that through as well, ignoring the starburst of pain it caused. Either Ralmiel would soon run out of magic pouches or Georgette had decided not to switch the ingredients in them. He’d deal with that later, though. First he had to try to find Delphine again, and God help Ralmiel if he interfered one more time.
Bones darted along the Quarter’s roofs for more than an hour, using the higher vantage point to better see the faces of the people below. No sign of Delphine. He cursed himself for not simply flying over the heads of the crowd to get to her before, but hiding the secret of his species was so ingrained in him that his first instinct had been to follow her on foot. It would have been sufficient, too, if not for Ralmiel. Bloody bastard.
But now Bones knew what she looked like. Becca’s part in this could finally be over. Bones would try scouring the Quarter again tomorrow, and hope like blazes Delphine hadn’t been scared out of the city.
Bones left the Quarter and went to his hotel at the outskirts of city, doubling back several times to make sure he wasn’t being followed. With all his backtracking, the sun was almost ready to rise by the time he made it inside his room. He stripped off his clothes and sat on the bed, eyeing his laptop. Better check now for any important messages. Sleep could wait a bit longer.
Bones logged onto his e-mail, quickly reading through his messages. “Bloody hell,” Bones swore when he got to the last one. What was the ghoul up to?
8
That afternoon, Bones opened the side door to his townhouse to let Jelani in. He went through the foyer, listening to the clicks from Jelani’s plastic and metal legs as he followed. Bones stopped in the townhouse’s inner courtyard. It was beautiful, with a large fountain in the middle surrounded by flowers planted specifically to bloom even in winter.
“Very nice,” Jelani complimented, looking around.
Bones was silent. Jelani waited for a few minutes, but then impatience got the better of him.
“You said you had some news?” the ghoul prompted.
Bones gave him a thin smile. “I do indeed. About you.”
Then Bones crossed the distance and grabbed Jelani, holding the bigger man several feet off the ground.
“This is your only chance to tell me the truth. Lie to me and I’ll kill you right here. Ever since I arrived, I’ve had Ralmiel after me, with no fear of Marie’s reprisal for it. Strange, that. Then your story didn’t check out. Did you think I’d just take your word and not do my own investigation? There’s no record of the LaLauries ever being at the St. Francisville house, so they couldn’t have murdered your wife there. What kind of game are you playing?”
Jelani didn’t bother to struggle. His false arms and legs left him as helpless against Bones as if he’d been human.
“I was the LaLauries’ slave,” he spat. “Both me and my wife were purchased from them shortly after they moved to the Quarter. The stories of what they did to their slaves aren’t even half the truth. My wife and I tried to run away. They caught us and tortured me. Cut off my arms and legs and ate them in front of me, but that wasn’t the worst of it.”
Jelani looked away. The scent of pure torment wafted off him, but Bones didn’t loosen his grip.
“Go on.”
“Delphine changed me into a ghoul,” Jelani continued, his voice trembling with remembrance. “Then she kept me chained inside that hellish attic for days, until I was mad from hunger. She finally brought my wife up, chaining her, too, so she couldn’t run away. That night, I killed my wife. I killed my wife and ate her.”
Bones let him down. Jelani staggered for a moment on his prosthetic legs until he found his balance. When he did, he shoved Bones back.
“I’m sorry, mate,” Bones said quietly. “But you know it wasn’t your fault. It’s their crime, not yours.”
Jelani gave a bitter snort. “Oh, I know they’re guilty for her death. But every time I go to sleep, I can still hear her screaming in my dreams. Over a hundred years later, I can still hear it.” Jelani met Bones’s gaze squarely. “I want it to end. I want all of it to end.”
Bones let out a slow sigh. “Marie has no idea the LaLauries are even here, does she? That’s why Ralmiel is so brazenly after me. He has no fear of repercussions from her.”
“When Delphine and Louis were hunting in the city decades ago, Majestic told me not to act until she was back. She didn’t want anyone knowing for fear that news of it would weaken her power. But the LaLauries got away before Majestic returned. This time, I couldn’t risk letting them get away again. So I lied to you when I brought you here.”
Bones ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Marie will kill you for this. But you must already know that.”
The big man’s shoulders slumped. “You can’t know what it’s like, living among our kind crippled this way. Majestic has made it bearable, but once the LaLauries are dead, I want to die, too. M
y only hope is that Majestic is kind enough to make death my punishment for my betrayal, instead of casting me off without her protection.”
Bones’s gaze traveled once more over the stumps that made up Jelani’s arms and legs. Jelani couldn’t wield a knife in defense of his life or in defense of Marie’s, which was the expectation of any member in an undead line. He couldn’t even walk, if someone were to sweep those prosthetics out from under him—and that would be the first thing any hostile vampire or ghoul would do.
Looking at it coldly, all Jelani had to offer Majestic in return for her protection was his loyalty, and he’d just burned that by going behind her back over the LaLauries. Even if Marie sympathized with why he did it, she’d still have no choice except to kill him for it. Not if she didn’t want to be regarded as a weak leader.
And if Bones was being practical, now that he knew none of this had been sanctioned by Marie, he’d leave the city to-night. Then once Jelani’s deeds were revealed, Bones could truthfully claim ignorance of the man’s betrayal.
But if he didn’t, any further actions he took would be held up to judgment by the queen of the city. Bones was a trespasser, hunting on Marie’s grounds without her permission. He knew she wouldn’t look kindly on that. Furthermore, while he was here, he was providing a damn fine target of himself to Ralmiel, since he couldn’t very well hide and hunt at the same time in the same small area.
Though neither could the LaLauries. Not for much longer, as it were.
There was only one choice, wasn’t there?
Bones stared at Jelani, not letting any emotion show on his face. “I don’t believe I’ll see you again, mate, but I’ll promise you this—you’ll have your vengeance.”
Jelani gave him a tight smile. “It won’t just be my vengeance. It will be shared by my wife, and everyone else who died at their hands.”
Bones walked away, not replying to that. Death he could give, yes. But at the moment, he wished he could give hope, too, even though there was none for Jelani, and perhaps none for himself, either.