Skinwalker

I had no doubt that Leo knew exactly where I was; vamps could see in pitch-black dark, better night vision than Beast, and for once Beast didn’t contradict me, just growled low in my mind. I took a steadying breath and spoke to my silent house. “I didn’t kill Immanuel, Leo. What I killed wasn’t your son.” I heard a breath drawn . . . in the living room? Before he could use the air, I stepped to the opening, cursing my booted feet on the wood floor.

 

“I saw him,” Leo said, his voice gravelly, as if his vocal cords had been damaged by a knife wound . . . or screaming. “I saw his face.” He took a breath; it sounded wet, torn, and came from a different spot—the bedroom doorway. Beast quivered, knowing we were stalked. My skin rose to tight, icy peaks. The crosses around my neck brightened with his nearness, allowing me to pick out a shadow across the room. A hunched shadow with wide black pupils in bloodred eyes. “You destroyed him,” Leo said, hissing his anguish. “And you will pay the blood debt.”

 

My throat went dry as stone dust. The urge to run settled into me like claws. “I destroyed a creature, yes, but not a vampire,” I said, with grave politeness, holding on to my runaway fear, praying to keep from being attacked alone, in the dark, by the blood-master of the city. “If the thing masquerading as your son had been a vampire, he would still be alive.”

 

I felt Leo pause, the utter stillness of the dead. I didn’t know if he was gathering himself to pounce or hearing my words. Feeling like I was running through the bottom of a ravine on a moonless night, I said, my words trembling, “I left him his head. A vampire could have been brought back; enough blood would have healed him.” In that moment, I knew that Leo had tried to feed his son, had tried to bring him back. And failed. In some part of his mind, he had to know that what I was saying was true and right.

 

Beast forced in a deeper breath, not letting fear’s claws paralyze me. “But the thing I killed wasn’t a vampire. It had taken on some of the qualities of one . . . but he wasn’t Immanuel.” I adjusted my grip on the weapons, firmed my tone and gentled it all at once. “He wasn’t Immanuel, Leo. He was Immanuel’s killer. He had stolen his way into your house. Into your family and clan.”

 

“You killed him,” he said, but his voice was softer, rougher, less certain.

 

“I killed Immanuel’s killer.” Remembering the words Leo had just said, I took a chance, adding, “I avenged his death. I paid his blood debt and left you the body of your enemy.” The silence stretched, my breath strident, my heart beating hard. The air conditioner came on, adding its chill to the air. I shivered, smelling my sweat and the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

 

Leo whispered, “He wore the face of my son. You killed him. You will pay for this.”

 

Faster than I could see, the front door slammed open. Its window shattered. Tiny, antique panes of glass dinged across the floor. One shard tinkled between my booted feet. Dawn wind blew in. And Leo Pellissier, blood-master of Clan Pellissier, head of the New Orleans’ Council of Mithrans, and blood-master of the city, was gone. Relief slumped my shoulders.

 

I wasn’t stupid enough to think it was over between us, however. No freaking way.

 

 

 

 

 

EPILOGUE

 

 

I kicked high, hitting the padded glove, but holding back on the strength and speed gifted to me by Beast. Landed and twisted all in one move. Kicked the other glove. Punched hard, not putting my body behind it, but searching for and finding the perfect form. Again. Again.

 

“Enough.” Instantly, I stopped. Backed away. Put my hands to my thighs. Bowed. The padded man beside me bowed as well. “You should compete,” he said. I raised my body and cocked a brow at the sensei. He was trying to be funny. Everyone who trained with him knew he never competed. He thought competition was for sissies.

 

“Your cell rang. See you tomorrow,” he said.

 

Class was over. Dripping sweat, I went to my travel pack and saw Molly’s number on the screen. I hit REDIAL, and she answered. “Hey, Big Cat. Want company?”

 

I laughed, wondering if she would ever really come. It had been a whole week and she was still procrastinating. “Sure. How soon can you get here?”

 

“Angelina, Little Evan, and I are about a half hour out of New Orleans, with your address plugged into the GPS. Hope you got an extra bed in whatever dump you’re staying at.”

 

Joy blossomed up in me like light. My breath stopped, blocked by a heart that didn’t want to beat properly. I clutched the cell. Turned to the wall and ducked my head to hide my expression. I didn’t want my sensei to see me tear up. I managed a single breath against the pressure in my chest. “I got clean sheets on all the beds upstairs. Bought foodstuff y’all like.”

 

A small voice said into the phone, “Aunt Jane, you need a shower. You been fighting.”

 

“Yeah, Angie. I do. See you in a few minutes.”

 

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