Shoffru’s head lifted, his nostrils widening as he took a breath, hard and deep. But I had already pulled two blades, one a steel-bladed, silver-edged throwing knife, the other a twelve-inch-long vamp-killer. I drew on Beast-speed, racing to Shoffru’s side and bursting through the witch magics, throwing green sparkles into the room, feeling them burn against my skin.
The keep-away spell was targeted, I thought, but not against skinwalkers. It’s hard to spell against something you don’t know exists or don’t have a blood sample from. Shoffru had expected to be escorted up by vamps or humans, and planned a little witchy surprise for them. Leo had turned the tables. The fanghead was good at that.
I placed a blade at the pirate’s throat.
His eyes widened and I grinned; it wasn’t a sweet grin. He leaned in and sniffed me. And his fangs dropped down on the little hinged bones, a soft snick sounding in the suddenly silent room. The music had stopped, and the room’s natural acoustics had taken over. “Hiya, Jackie,” I said, the sound warm and bright and carrying everywhere in the quiet. “Welcome back to New Orleans. Things are gonna be a little different this time around.”
Ignoring my comment, he asked, “What species of predator are you?”
“The kind who kills vamps for a living.” I chuckled, letting Beast’s power course through me and shine in my eyes. I could see the golden reflection in his pupils. The lizard poked his head up from the black shirt collar. It was sitting on Shoffru’s collarbone, its long tail curled down his chest. It was watching me, as if unafraid, curious.
Shoffru’s body was still, that vamp-style, dead-slab-of-gravestone-marble still. I could feel him trying to bring up the keep-away spell, but with me so close, it wasn’t happening. I let my blade press against his neck, just enough to barely slice the skin. A line of red appeared. The scent of vamp blood flooded me, his caustic and sharp like cacti and desert nights. The lizard whipped his head to the cut. His skin turned a bright, interested green, a patch on his throat growing reddish and puffing out, as if he was excited.
Around us, Shoffru’s vamps converged into a semicircle, starting to form a pincer movement, or a constriction like the mouth of bag drawn tight, to enclose us. Adrianna had vamped out, eyes wide black pupils in bloody red sclera. Her fingers were clawed with razor-sharp talons.
From the doorway, I heard booted feet, and the mixed scents of Derek’s men blended into the room. Shoffru’s people hesitated, and the pirate seemed to know his rebellion had been anticipated. “The world is always changing,” Shoffru said. “Only the strong survive the evolution of life.”
“Jackie’s a philosopher as well as a pirate captain,” I said. “Good. It’ll help when Leo bares your throat and drinks.” His pupils widened into black holes. He didn’t vamp out. I gave him that. He stayed in control. “Tell your girl to sit this one out.”
“Adrianna, my love,” he said. “Please await me.”
The nutso vamp hissed in displeasure, but she lowered her talons.
I said, “Let’s go, Jackie. Move slow. It’s like a dance, but you follow my lead without touching me or the blade slides home to nestle into your cervical spine. Got it?”
Shoffru didn’t nod—not with my blade so close—but he did school his face in agreement.
I led Shoffru to the center of the dance floor, where Leo waited, Bruiser beside him. From the corner of my eye, I saw Wrassler standing behind Adrianna, and her facade was not the happy-camper face of a partygoer. It was the fang-down expression of a wanna-kill-something suckhead. I figured that Wrassler had a blade to her kidney. Good. And Derek had weapons leveled at Shoffru’s peeps. Even better. Gee DiMercy stood to the side, watching the little game like an interested spectator.
We reached the center of the room, and when I felt Bruiser’s body heat at my back, I stepped away, letting Shoffru go. Leo and Bruiser had him boxed in like a layer of vamp jelly between two slices of deadly bread. I walked to Wrassler, blades still out, and said into my mic, “Play us some music, something dangerous,” knowing that Angel would hear. Just before I reached the traitor, the opening strains of “All I Wanted” by Temporary Empire began to play, soft and low. It wasn’t what I had asked for, but the heartache in the song fit my own broken heart, pulling the anguish to the surface again. It played softly, at the edges of my hearing.
Grief and anger warred with a killing lust deep inside me as I reached Adrianna. “Hello, dead woman,” I said. “I’ll have your blood on my hands soon.”
“Oh no, Enforcer,” Gee DiMercy said by my ear. I hadn’t felt him on my trail and I almost flinched, but I held it down, as if my other half had known of his presence. “That particular joy will be mine,” he said.