He spread his fingers as if to say, “Fine. Down to business. State your piece,” which was a lot to gather from a single gesture, but there it was. Clermont crossed his ankles and laced his fingers in what looked like a posture personal to him, back when he had been human.
I wasn’t good at diplomacy, blowing things up and shooting things being more my way, but I gave it a shot. “Leo Pellissier sent me to…” I paused and chose my words carefully, “to inquire about Shauna Landry, who, he has heard, is here against her will, to be turned against her will.”
“Why?” When I looked puzzled, Clermont said, “Why Leo, Blood-Master of New Orleans, show an interest in us now? Why not a hundred year ago, or when he take over for dat worthless king Amaury?”
To that I had no answer. After a seriously awkward pause, I said, “I think he thought it was your choice to swear to him, or him to conquer you in a Blood Challenge, and he… mmm, he, mmm, respected you too much to come after you.” Which was a lot better than he thought you weren’t worth the effort. Knowing Leo it was the latter.
“Blood Challenge? Like a duel?” Clermont asked.
I hadn’t studied a Blood Challenge but I’d run across the term and that definition seemed to fit the parameters. “Sorta, yeah.”
Clermont seemed to study the night sky. When his head moved, I realized he was in a rocking chair, and it started to squeak as he rocked, a pleasant rhythm in the night. Almost as if he called them to sing, frogs started to croak. I’d heard them before while in Beast form, the deep, almost-aching, nearly demanding basso profundo melody. Crickets joined in the song. A barred owl gave it’s hoot, hoo-hoo-hoo-hooooo. Something large splashed in the bayou out front. A night breeze strengthened and the lamp flame wavered, casting shadows that moved and crawled.
The porch we sat on was maybe thirty feet wide and fifteen deep, the house and its entrance behind us and rooms on either end. This protected it from wind and rain on three sides and yet still provided a view of the bayou out front, the live oaks on the property, and the cypress standing in the water, knees pushed up above the surface anchoring the trees in the silty bottom. The last of the sunset was a pale pink line on the horizon, the sky quickly fading to a dark cerulean overhead.
I shouldn’t have felt so suddenly peaceful, but I did. I let my body relax into the chair, and I realized that I didn’t chill out very often. To take the opportunity in this perilous place was stupid and dangerous, but even knowing that, I let my muscles soften and my backside settle, just a hint, just a bit. “If the offer of tea is still open,” I said, “I’d like a cup of hot.”
“Black,” Clermont said to the shadows. “That good China black what come de mail las’ week. And bring out de girl. She can speak for herself to de famed vampire hunter.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Shauna arrived before the tea, holding the hand of a male vampire. She fit her father’s description and the small graduation photo provided by Lucky. Her hair was pulled back and braided, leaving her face and narrow jaw fully exposed. She was prettier than her photo, or she had already been fed a lot of vamp blood, improving her skin and her vitality. The boy holding her hand was fully vamped out, his two-inch fangs down, his pupils wide and black in blood red sclera; he was close to losing control. If he had been aping human he would have been a pretty-boy, with brown hair to his waist, some braided, some hanging free, an aquiline nose and almond-shaped eyes. Gently, I asked, “You’re Clermont’s son?”
“And heir,” he said, his words only slightly miss-shaped by his fangs. “Gabriel Doucette,” he said, pronouncing it Gab-rel Doo-see. “I can give her everything. A home. A place. A long, full life. I love her.”
While he spoke, the girl held his hand tighter and gazed at him with fierce adoration in her eyes.
Well crap. So much for kidnap or vamp-glamour. I hadn’t studied Shakespeare in high school, but even I knew this was starting to look a little like it was more along the lines of Romeo and Juliet than a kidnap plot. Unlike Romeo and Juliet, however, this story left one family holding all the cards. Lucky Landry had lied to me. Surprise, surprise.
Because he was so close to the edge, I turned my gaze to the girl for a moment, indicating I was speaking to her, before looking off into the night. I said, “Your father thinks you were kidnapped. You’re here of your own free will?”
At the word “kidnapped” power spiked along my arms and settled in my fingertips, an electric pain that promised more if I wasn’t careful. It was an attack spell, something prepared beforehand and waiting, a defensive measure worthy of my friends, the Everharts. And I had a feeling if she let loose with it, I’d get hurt. Shauna’s voice, when she spoke, was calm, determined. “I love Gabriel.”
I thought about that for a moment before turning to Clermont. “How many witches have you turned in the last hundred or so years?”
His brows went up. He opened his mouth and closed it, pursed his lips, thinking. “Four,” he said, his voice quiet, almost buried in the night noises. I could see him thinking, putting two and two together—his history with witches, my question, my being here at all, which, considering the danger I was in, must be important.
Keeping my tone soft and gentle, I asked, “Have you ever seen a witch make the change into vampire?” When he said nothing, I added, “Witches don’t accept the change as well as humans. Witches seldom come out of the devoveo—what you may call the insanity—at all.”
Gabriel growled and his lips pulled back. Beast flooded me with adrenaline. Kit shows killing teeth, she thought at me.
“Gabe!” Clermont barked. But Gabriel didn’t back down.
I kept my gaze in the distance and my voice soft, saying, “Shauna, did you know there’s a strong possibility you could remain insane forever if you get turned?”
She didn’t answer but her eyes widened and her lips parted in alarm. And Gabriel let go her hand. In the blink of an eye, everything went to hell in a handbasket.
Gabriel lunged at me.
A spot of red appeared on his shirt front.
He yanked up my arm, his vampire claws piercing my wrist.
The crack of a rifle sounded in the night.
Clermont moved, his fist impacting his son’s chin.
Gabe’s body snapped back; his claws shredded my flesh.
Twin booms sounded off to either side.
Vamps all around me vamped out.
The smell of blood and vampires filled the night.
I dropped back to the chair and stabbed upward with a vamp-killer, the twelve-inch blade sliding into the belly of a vamp who was reaching for me, fangs first. My angle was wrong to pull the M4, but I managed to get a .380 out. Off-safetied. Fired. Hitting a vamp in the face. Another in the shoulder. Vamps screamed, the piercing, horrible wail of death I could hear even over the acoustic damage of the firearms.
Some small part of my brain knew I’d just sentenced a vamp to a slow, painful, death by silver poisoning with the vamp-killer, but the gun’s ammo was standard, and no vamps would die from that. Humans could, though. Collateral damage. I did not want to hurt the humans.
Derek and one of his men were on the porch. I saw Derek toss two hand grenades into the house, his movements seen as overlays of static images. I closed my eyes and threw an arm over my eyes. The flashbangs took down every vamp inside with the blinding flash and intense noise. More vamps were wailing, my ears vibrating painfully with the high tone.
I opened my eyes in time to see more forms flow up the stairs led by Lucky Landry. Magics spat down his arms from his tattoos and shot out his fingertips. Blue flames whipped among the vamps and humans on the porch.
“Bogus!” I screamed. Derek turned to the witch and hit him with the butt of his shotgun. It wasn’t a weapon Lucky had prepared a defense against. The witch fell like he’d been poleaxed. The forms behind him stopped and stared at their leader. And the vamps turned on them.