Cradling my injured arm at my waist, I was out of the hood pretty quickly, but I stuck to the shadows, dangling the head. I figured even the most jaded and cynical inhabitant might report a bloody girl in a party dress carrying a severed head by its hair.
Two things about New Orleans: There is always water nearby, and the very rich live within walking distance of the very poor. In less than a mile, I found a fenced yard with the scent of koi pond. I scanned the area, didn’t spot any cameras, didn’t smell any dogs on the other side, and hopped the fence. Not trusting my quick scan, I knelt in the heavy shrubbery and surveyed the place. The pond was huge, complete with a miniature waterfall and green plants. The house beyond it was a monster, with arches and lots of screened porch space. It was dark, soundless. I figured it was near two in the morning, so any inhabitants were sleeping.
Concealed behind an elephant-ear plant, I set the head to the side and untied my bandage so I could scoop pond water over my arm, washing off the blood. It was dried and cracking, and had started to burn. I don’t know what pH vamp blood is, but it has to be acidic. More chemistry. Maybe a class in Vamp Physiology 101 would be better.
When I had washed off most of the blood, I stripped and rinsed my dance clothes, wrung them out, and put them back on wet. It didn’t help the pain, but being clean—well, more clean—helped me in some way I couldn’t have explained. The clothes were cool on my skin and smelled sorta fishy. Beast was hungry and informed me she wasn’t averse to fish for dinner. “Later,” I murmured, keeping an eye on the house as I dunked the head into the pool. Dried blood, fresh blood, and bits of vamp floated free. Attracted by the smell or maybe by all my movement, koi swam close and watched, golden, pink, black-and-white, in tabby cat-blotched patterns. One nibbled on a bit of vamp flesh and spat it out in a puff of water. “Smart fishy,” I murmured. I hoped vamp blood wasn’t toxic to oversized goldfish.
When the head was as clean as I could get it without bleach and a stiff brush, I turned it in the water and studied it. She was a light-skinned black girl, delicate of bone structure, with loose curls. Her gray eyes stared at me from the water, still wearing the confusion of death. I reached between her lips and eased her vamp teeth down from the roof of her mouth. They were hinged, like a snake’s, the bony structure growing in behind her human teeth. I let them contract back. With her dead, the motion was slow, as if the small joints were frozen. Rigor mortis, vamp style, maybe. As I studied the head in the pool of water, the surface stilled, reflecting back the security lights. Reflecting back my face beside hers. Cheekbones prominent, hair a riot of braids falling over my shoulders. Yellow eyes next to the gray ones.
I didn’t know her name, only that she was Jerome’s sister. And that she had been twelve. I had just killed a twelve-year-old killer. Did that make it okay? Worse than an adult killer?
If I had waited, would Leo have been able to trap her, chain her in his basement, or the New Orleans equivalent, until she developed self-and appetite control? If I hadn’t gone behind the abandoned house, would she have waited, hiding while her maker was killed? Would she have not attacked me? Crap. I hated morning-after regrets of any kind, especially the ones that arrived before morning. I didn’t know what to feel. Sorrow. Shame. Something.
Beast was silent. She felt no shame, didn’t understand the emotion, considering it a waste of time. Reaching into the still water, scattering my reflection, I closed the vamp’s eyes.
I stood, still hidden by the huge leaves, and spotted a towel draped over a chair, on a short deck. I stole the towel, wrapping the head, awkward because of my arm. Which was now hurting like a misery—a pounding, pulsing pain that, even with Beast’s help, was making me nauseous. I rewrapped the turban around my wounds and loped to the fence, tossed the head over, grabbed the fence top with my good hand, and pulled myself after it. Feeling exhaustion in every muscle, breathing too hard for the exertion, I headed home.
If the U.S. Congress ever passed laws giving vamps complete civil rights, making them something more than monsters, I would have to find another way to make a living. I could go to jail for staking them. Beast showed me a vision of the children’s home I lived in for six years. Beast’s idea of jail. I’d have to show her a real prison someday. Or a zoo. Beast hissed at me.
I made it back to the freebie house by four, and hit REDIAL while standing on the porch, calling Leo’s number again as I unlocked the door. I heard a soft tone from inside just as the smell of vamp hit me. And Bruiser. Beast came alert. Leo Pellissier, head of the NOVC, and his muscle, were in my living room. In the dark. Crap. Crap, crap, crap.