When I got home, a car was idling at the front door. A man stood on the front porch, his jeans tight, the long sleeves of a button-down shirt rolled up to reveal tanned, fit arms. It was Bruiser, aka George Dumas, Leo's first human blood-servant, and his second in command, his muscle and security. My heart rate sped up just a bit. Six-four, weightlifter but not to bulging excess, brown eyes and hair. Clean-looking with a primo sculpted nose, long and sort of bony. I had a thing about noses and really liked his. In fact I liked almost every thing abut Bruiser, and so did my Beast. He hadn't been around when Leo came visiting last night. Had he known about the attack?
Bruiser swiveled like a dancer at the sound of Bitsa. His expression was solemn and he didn't smile when he saw me. That couldn't be good. I nodded stiffly, glad my face was hidden behind the face shield. Pulling Bitsa to the side and through the gate, out of sight, I locked the gate behind me. The ward was still on, and when I entered the house, a tingle buzzed against my skin, rough, like sandpaper, if sandpaper could hold an electric charge.
Molly met me at the bottom of the stairs, wearing wide-legged capris, a tee, and sandals. Energy fairly radiated off her body. "Do we let him in?" she asked, waiting for me to make the decision on security.
"Hi, Aunt Jane," Angelina said, half hidden behind her mother.
I picked Angie up and hugged her, saying, "Hi, Angie Baby." I handed her to her mother. "You two go upstairs, okay? Just for a few minutes. I have a visitor."
"A bad man?" Angie asked, more in curiosity than fear.
"Not a bad man," I said. "Just not a good one." A white man, I thought. Someone I can't trust. The thinking was left over from a childhood I could remember only in snitches and snatches, but it was powerful nonetheless.
Molly quick-stepped up the stairs, shushing Angie's protests. The ward snapped off and a knock sounded instantly on the door, as if he had been waiting for it to flick off. Bet it had burned his knuckles the first time he tried. I opened the door and leaned negligently against the jamb, not asking him in, blocking the way, my body language aggressive and challenging. I might think he was gorgeous but I wasn't ready to cede him that knowledge.
"Bruiser. To what do I own the honor of this visit?" My tone said it was not an honor, and George's brows rose, the gesture elegant and refined and annoyingly superior. The gesture was oddly similar to Leo's, reminding me that he had been with the Blood Master of the City for a long time. A very long time. It helped to settle my hormones.
"My master sends you greetings and a missive." The words had an old-fashioned ring, a sure sign of a powerful vamp's official notice.
I had a feeling that this formal visit might be only marginally better than Leo's kerosene and fire visit of the night before, and that brought out a belligerence I usually controlled better. I narrowed my eyes at him. "No shit?"
George didn't laugh, his eyes serious. He extended a roll of paper, a little smaller than standard eight-by-eleven notepaper. No, not paper; by the smell it was heavy vellum, rolled and secured with a scarlet ribbon. It was also sealed with bloodred wax.
"My execution order? A warning that I'm about to be burned out? If so, it's a day late."
Bruiser frowned, his brown eyes sincere. Not that sincere was anything to trust in a blood-servant. "I heard about it, Jane. If I had known what he planned, I'd have tried to stop him. Or at least I'd have called and warned you."
"Big words. Nice plan. A day late and a dollar short. So, what is it?" I pointed at the roll.
Bruiser looked at the vellum, his frown deepening. "I don't know."
"Nothing good, then." I took the vellum, slid the ribbon off, and gave it to George. I broke the seal with a fingernail. The note was short and pointed, handwritten in a slashing, cursive scrawl that screamed it was by Leo's own hand. I read it aloud.
" 'To Jane Yellowrock, Rogue Hunter. The instant that your current contract with the Council of the Mithrans is completed, you will vacate the City of New Orleans. Should you decline to comply, you will be brought to me. You will not leave again.' It's signed, 'Leonard Pellissier. Blood Master of the City of New Orleans.'
"Well, that was short and bitter," I said. "I'm guessing the line 'You will not leave again' means that he'll turn me, chain me in his basement, and let me starve. Not a pretty image. Your boss is certifiable, Dumas."
"I like Bruiser better."
"Tough." I shut the door in his face.
Molly's chuckle sounded down the stairway. I felt the ward come on, the whole house seeming to buzz for a moment until it settled. "You think that was smart?" she asked me.
"Not really." Beast hacked in the deep parts of my mind. She had enjoyed it all very much, even still half asleep.
"You like him, don't you?" When I didn't answer, she sang out, paraphrasing Rod Stewart lyrics, "I know you think he's sexy, and you want his body. Come on, Big Cat, say it's so-o-o-o."