"My master also understands that another member of the Everheart family coven, Evangeline, will soon arrive in New Orleans, as will Evan Trueblood, an unregistered sorcerer. Their arrival constitutes a new full coven in his city. Mr. Pellissier expects them to act as any tourist and return home when their visit is done."
My heart stuttered. No one but Molly and her sisters knew about Evan. Crap. I sipped my tea, mind racing. Evangeline Everheart had been pulling strings, using her connections to set up talks. A full coven meant five, Evan, Molly, Evangeline, and the children. Mr. Pellissier expects . . . My first reaction was to tell Leo to stuff it where the sun didn't shine, but I figured with a vamp that was pretty much anywhere. His words were tantamount to a command, and probably had import in the vamp/witch chats planned. So maybe I'd better not stick my big, clawed feet into the mix. "Okay. I'll pass along his . . . request." Okay, so I couldn't let it go by without a small dig at his orders.
Leo watched, nothing in his dark eyes, or nothing human, anyway. He put down his mug with a soft tap of stoneware on wood. I felt George tighten, smelled a sudden chemical change on his skin. Not fear, not exactly, but it was close. I gathered myself, preparing for whatever was about to happen. "You have been asking about the devoveo. Why?"
Nerves that had been twined about me for hours tightened. I set my mug down to free my hands; Leo didn't look quite . . . right. "I had hoped the word might be important but it isn't. The sire of the young rogues is burying his progeny--their progeny." I shrugged. "Whatever--in secret graveyards, in the middle of a pentagram with crosses all around. And the graves stink of witch magic." Leo didn't react at all, his face unreadable.
"According to my sources he's been stealing witch children off and on for decades and killing them, I think at the graves, witch blood sacrifices. My gut's saying that it's all tied in with the vamp curse, but the only way that fits, even a little bit, is one note I found about drinking witch blood being a temporary cure for the devoveo.
"But it's only a temporary cure. Unless someone's trying to spell it permanen--" I stopped midword. It made sense. "They're trying to avoid devoveo--the curse--altogether. The only ones I've heard about who did that were the Sons of Darkness. What are they? Could they be in New Orleans?"
Leo went still, that weird shift from nearly human to dead immovability, a block of pale marble carved into human shape. Bruiser set down his mug, claiming my attention. He blinked slowly, his face going white, high spots of color on his cheeks; his eyes were full of warning and he gave an almost infinitesimal shake of his head. "Boss?" he said, his voice too gentle, too wary.
What did I say? It couldn't be a big secret about devoveo, or drinking witch blood. Crap! What else did I say?
Everything, even the air, went still and silent, so sharp it was almost cutting, for one awful moment. "You dare speak of the Sons of Darkness," he said, his voice the barest whisper of breath. Then Leo vanished. Phased into a blur. In the visible echo of the movement he reappeared, right in front of me, in a burst of vamp-scented air. Icy dead hands like steel bars embraced me, claws cutting into me. There wasn't time to gasp. His fangs tore into my throat. Pain ripped through me, lightning agony. I heard Bruiser shouting, "No! Leo, no!"
Beast screamed, trying to shift, shift, shift now! Leo shook me as a dog shakes prey, shredding my throat. Teeth buried so deep I felt tendons snap and tear. My blood spurted across the room. Adrenaline shocked through me too late; I heard something heavy fall nearby, vibrating through the house. Beast screamed again. Her strength in my veins, I somehow got my hands up. Pulled two hair sticks, my motions slow as my own death. And buried them in Leo's body. The angles were all wrong. Nowhere near his heart. He shook me so hard my teeth clacked together. I tasted blood, salty and sweet. The world tilted at an odd angle.
I was falling. My blood fountained again. Landed in a bouncing heap, my blood a cascade. Drenching over a body on the floor. Spattering two legs at eye level. My carotids were severed. Again. My heart pumping out.
Beast heaved a breath that coated my lungs with blood. Screamed and tried to shift. Got my legs up under me. Spurting blood, I/we ran toward the back of the house. Past a downed George. Crashed through the back window in a shower of antique glass and more modern storm window. Stumbled across the lawn. Beast in control.
Darkness gathered at the edges of my vision. The world telescoped into a tiny spot of color and life. My pulse was fading. Cold clutched at me.
I staggered toward the rocks. Something red and burning swooped up behind me.
I sought for the snake buried in the cells of all life. I sought for Beast. But I was too injured. There was only that new emptiness at the heart of me. I managed a breath, sucking in blood mixed with the vital air. Choking. Drowning even as I bled out. I tried to cough. I fell. Landed. The rocks caught me, a cold, hard bed.