I was alpha. I was big-cat. Wanted to eat gator. Wanted to hunt.
Looked out into darkness of night. Was near tree where Beast had ambush-hunted and killed human and big vampire. Could smell dead human and dead big prey on cool wind. Dead and dead again. Did not understand twice-dead things. Did not understand things that were alive and dead. Like Bitsa. Like vampires.
Could smell vampires on wind, hear vampires. Vampires were hunting Beast. Wanted to go far away from hunters. Wanted to think. I huffed and padded into dark.
At road, I climbed tree and lay on limb hanging over road. Jumped from limb over road to top of small truck and set claws to metal. Holding on. Truck was like bison, big and fast and stupid. But truck had no blood and bones. Truck was alive and not alive, like vampires were alive and not alive. Did not understand truck or vampires. But truck was moving toward city lights, toward place of Jane-den. Stupid truck turned away soon, and Beast jumped down to ground. Prowled on before finding other truck heading toward Jane-den. Changed trucks three more times. Less than five. Was good number.
In French Quarter, truck stopped at place of sleeping and eating. Hotel, Jane called it. Jumped from back of truck to street and padded into shadows. I moved through French Quarter place smelling of many more than five humans and man-food and man-spices and gasoline and many more than five vampires. Went to Katie’s place. Place where enemy of Jane had hunted Katie and taken Katie.
Could smell Katie and Derek and other humans inside. Derek had hunted Katie and brought her back to her den. Derek was good hunter. Wondered if Derek and Katie were mated now. Katie needed strong mate. But smelled blood. Much blood. Katie was wounded and drinking from more-than-five humans. Heard sound of pain from Katie-den.
I chuffed. Did not like smell of human blood. Did not like taste of human flesh. Remembered taste from fight. Jane was right. Should never eat humans. Did not understand vampires—good hunters who ate humans. I turned and trotted into night.
*
I woke in a stinking alley behind a restaurant, lying on the pavement. Next to a wino so drunk he smelled like a brewery. I crawled to my feet and met his eyes.
“You’re naked, you know.”
“I noticed.”
“I got a blanket I’ll sell you.”
“It isn’t like I have any money on me.”
His eyes gleamed and he showed me broken, brown teeth as he looked me over.
I chuckled softly. “How about this? You loan me your blanket, and I’ll come back with fifty dollars and a brand-new blanket.”
He thought about that for a good half minute while I shivered. “And a pillow. And a waterproof tent. A tiny one I can drape over things when it rains.”
I was standing buck naked in an alley at dawn, bargaining with a wino for his flea-infested blanket. Which was stupid on so many levels. “Whatever it takes to get me the blanket.” The wino scratched himself and I didn’t look at where or at the sight of his black fingernails.
“Done.”
“How about I give you a hundred and let you live?” a soft voice said.
I froze. Rick. Who had just shot me. I turned my body at an angle, making a narrower target. But his hands were empty. His white wolf sat at his side, panting.
Rick saw my reaction and he opened his mouth, breathing in. He went dead-still for a moment, not breathing now, not doing anything, reading me like a cat might. His voice went dead, no tonal shifts or flex. “You think I shot you? You think I shot you?” he exploded. “I’ve been hunting you all night. Thinking that he had killed you, that you shifted too late and only Beast was left.” Rick ripped his coat off and threw it at me. I caught it, something heavy banging into my kneecap. “There is a nine-mil in the right pocket. Take it and shoot me, you crazy bitch.”
I held the coat in front of me, one hand gripping the pocket that held the gun. I could feel it, warm from his body heat, and it did feel like a nine-mil. I held the coat in front of me like a shield, but of course if he had another gun and really wanted me dead, now was the time to fire. He didn’t.
“You told me you had orders to shoot me if I killed a human. I killed a human. Your hand came up. I was shot. Soooo.”
Rick’s face twisted with some emotion I couldn’t name. “You really think I shot you.” He lowered his lids and dropped his head to keep me from seeing what might be on his face. “You killed him in self-defense, not a blood-magic spell or a killing frenzy.” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “I’m a cop. I’m trained to notice little things like that.”
“Who shot me?”
“You call him Diablo.”
I let my mind wander back over the last moments of my life, putting two and two together, and hopefully reaching four. I remembered the humans guarding the remains of de Allyon’s clan. The Tequila Boys. I remembered Diablo, pounding a downed vamp in the pasture after the battle, the night that Leo’s clan home burned to the ground. Had he been putting on a show? Had he agreed to snitch later, in return for something? Drugs? Women? A place in a vamp’s household and the increased life span that offered? Money? Money always talks, and most of the time it talks too much.
“Oh,” I said. Sounding totally lame. “Crap.”
Even I—with my limited social skills—knew I had hurt Rick. I could smell the anger and misery rushing through his veins. See it in his body language, in his expression, in his eyes that were fading from golden green back to black.
“You really thought I’d shoot you,” he said, the sound raw.
“What about my money?” the wino asked.
Rick tossed him a handful of bills without looking, turned on his heel, and walked back down the alley. I slid into the coat, warm from his body.
“Star-crossed lovers, is what you two are,” the wino said. “Or maybe he’s right and you really are a crazy bitch.”