We walked up those wide, white steps to the double doors. Graham insisted on opening the doors for us. I didn't have patience to argue, and I was pretty certain Edward didn't argue because he knew cannon fodder when he saw it. He was hard-to-kill cannon fodder, but Graham wasn't armed, and I wasn't in love with him. From Edward's point of view it changed how he would treat him. Truthfully, me, too. I wanted everyone to come out alive tonight, but if it came to choices, who you loved counted. If you're not willing to admit that out loud inside your own head, then you should stay out of firefights and keep your family at home. Be honest, who would you save? Who would you sacrifice? We let Graham swing wide those double doors. He didn't even try to take cover. He stood framed in the light, his body dark with that nimbus of brightness around it. He turned back to me with a smile, as if he'd done a good thing. I said a prayer that Graham didn't get himself killed tonight. Yeah, we were supposed to be doing metaphysical battle, no weapons, but there were ways to kill with metaphysics. I'd seen it done. Hell, I'd done it a time or two. Illegal, that, if it's a human that dies. I won't tell if you won't.
Nathaniel reached for my left hand. He was warm, warmer than he should have been, fever warm, but there was no sweat on his palm. It wasn't nerves. It was power. It climbed up my arm, across my body in a wave of heat that made my skin dance in goose bumps. I made a small stumble on the steps. Micah grabbed my arm. He meant it to be helpful, but the power leapt from me to him. And it wasn't a power meant for him. Damian was meant to be on the other side of me for this. He was meant to cool this fire, but Micah's was never a magic that cooled me down. The power found the only thing it could recognize. It found his beast. I could actually see his leopard roaring up inside him like a black flame, roaring to life, spilling upward inside him. Micah could control it, but the velvet pouring of his beast brought mine. I was caught between two wereleopards. There was no other animal to distract my beasts.
I almost screamed it. «Not now!»
Olaf's deep voice said, «What is that?»
I didn't have time to look around and see if there was something else coming. Edward would take care of it. I believed that.
Micah managed to tear himself away from my arm. He went to his knees on the steps, as if he were having more trouble than normal controlling his own beast. It wasn't close to full moon. It shouldn't have been such an effort.
Graham was coming toward us. He was coming in a blur of speed, but my leopard was rising faster. It was tearing its way up through my body. I needed to cool this heat. I almost reached for Jean-Claude. He was vampire. He was the chill of the grave, but he never affected me that way. He was always passion to me. I needed to think. I reached for my other vampire. I reached out to Damian. I reached out with desperation. I screamed in my head, Save me, save us, kill this heat.
I felt him stagger when my call hit him. I knew someone grabbed his arm to keep him from falling. But my power hit him, and he gave me what I demanded. He gave me that coolness. That utter control that he had learned in years of servitude to the master that created him. He gave me the control that had helped him survive, and betray nothing by thought, word, deed, or glance. He gave me that control in a sweep of cold, steely willpower.
The visual in my head was of my leopard finding a metal wall in her path. She snarled at it and reacted like any self-respecting leopard would if a giant wall suddenly appeared in the forest path. She ran. The leopard ran back the way she had come, to hide in that empty, full, dark place where all the beasts seemed to wait inside me. It was like the blackness of space before the light found it, except it was inside me somewhere. I don't explain the show, sometimes I just watch it.
A woman's voice, half singing, beautiful and pure and strangely joyous, spoke from inside the open doors. «Let it begin at last, our contest, Jean-Claude. Your servant has struck the first blow.»
I yelled, «It was an accident.» But it was too late. I had done metaphysics. Either she didn't realize how little control I had over some of my powers, or she was using it as an excuse to start the fight. Either way, shit.
Graham offered me his hand, and I took it. He dragged me and Nathaniel up off the steps. His hand in mine was just a hand, just warmth. Maybe he wasn't armed, and maybe he didn't understand how to take cover, but in that moment no one else with us could have dragged me to my feet without complicating things. I looked up and found Edward with his hand on Olaf's stomach, or lower chest. Olaf would have helped me off the steps, and Edward had stopped it. He looked at me, and the look was enough. They weren't psychic enough to tell the difference between beasts rising and the ardeur rising, not in its early stages. Edward didn't want to have it spread to him, and he was going to make certain it didn't spread to Olaf. I pushed the thought away, into that crowded cage that all the other thoughts had gone into for the last few days and hours. Think about it later. We were running up the steps. Graham had my right hand, but we weren't supposed to be pulling guns tonight, right?
chapter forty-three
FACES TURNED TO us as we stumbled through the door. There was no vestibule, so the three of us were just suddenly in view of the crowd. Nathaniel and I were breathing as if we'd run a mile. Only Graham was calm at my side. Edward and Olaf fanned out to either side of us. Micah moved wide around us all. Was he still fighting off his beast? I trusted him to handle it. I had to trust him, because there were things happening that I didn't trust anyone else to handle.
The area behind the pulpit had become a stage. There were three people on stage in masks. What could only be Columbine and Giovanni were to the left. She was elegant in a skintight version of the Harlequin's motley, all red, blue, white, black, and gold with a short half skirt to pretend at modesty. A gold tricorn hat had multicolored balls to echo the colors of the rest. Her mask left a white chin and crimson mouth bare. The man beside her was much taller than she was, dressed in a white mask like the one they'd sent us in the first box. His face was an empty blankness trapped in the black hooded cloak that covered him to his ankles. A black tricorn hat completed the outfit. They stood in a contrast of bright and dark, color and not.
The third masked figure was on our side of the stage, standing beside Jean-Claude and his vampires. Damian and Malcolm were close at his side, behind Asher. But the last masked figure wasn't a vampire.
He looked more like he was about to do bondage than go to Carnival. The mask was leather and hid most of the face, covering even the back of the head, a hood instead of a mask. It was the broad shoulders framed by the leather vest, and the slightly paler version of his summer tan, that let me know it was Richard. He'd come to stand at Jean-Claude's side after all. Jake and some of the other bodyguard werewolves stood behind him.
Asher stood on the other side of Jean-Claude, his hair catching the lights like spun gold. Remus and a handful of other werehyenas stood behind him. Most of Jean-Claude's vampires were scattered around the stage. But Elinore and a few others weren't there because Jean-Claude had made them stay away. If we died tonight and managed to take the Harlequin with us, he trusted Elinore to rebuild the city's vampires. Truth and Wicked were there, along with Haven and his werelions. Rafael and his wererats were there, on the stage. There was an ocean of wereanimals around our side of the stage. The two Harlequin looked so outnumbered. Part of me was sad that it wasn't going to be a stand-up fight. It looked like we might win that kind of fight. Of course, the Harlequin standing in the church had scouted us; they knew our resources. Maybe there was more than one reason they'd offered a metaphysical fight instead of a physical one.
My pulse had started to slow. We started up the aisle, Graham a little ahead of us all, Nathaniel and I still hand in hand. Micah was still giving us room. I'd have loved to touch him, but he was right. We didn't need another visit from our leopards. Edward and Olaf brought up the rear. I thought we'd get to the stage. I thought I'd get to touch Jean-Claude, and Damian, but Columbine thought otherwise.