“Get a room,” Eli grunted.
“I intend to. As soon as possible,” Bruiser said, his eyes still on me. And my blush, which had cooled, burned even hotter.
Beast might as well have been rolling in catnip, she was so happy.
Eli wasn’t the eye-rolling type, but if he had been, now would have been the time. He dragged our attention to business. “Without prior authorization of the governor, Rick is the official who has to authorize Jane’s use of force—unless there is a direct threat to the populace, in which case she can act unilaterally.”
“Rick?” I said, sitting up in my seat. “Not Soul?”
“Soul isn’t here.”
“She will be,” I said, remembering Opal in stasis in the lightning. That seemed important, but nothing came to mind. “Soon.”
“PsyLED has law enforcement control here, even over the feds,” Eli said. “This is Rick’s show. So keep that in mind.”
Bruiser laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh. But Beast liked it even better than the Onorio heat.
“Moving on,” Eli said. “Alex uncovered some evidence—other than Grégoire’s panicked assertion and the rising of the revenants of their line—that Le Batard and Louis Seven are both in town. It’s possible that they’re in the Roosevelt Hotel in the French Quarter. The tip came from Grégoire’s boys just before they disappeared.”
Bruiser’s eyes sharpened and his entire body came alert, all without moving a muscle. “Disappeared?”
“Brandon and Brian aren’t with Grégoire and won’t answer calls,” Eli said.
“That is very strange. And unexpected,” Bruiser said.
“We got pics of this Louis and Batard?” I asked.
Bruiser passed me his cell phone. On it was a photograph of a small painted portrait. I studied the likeness of the two men pictured there. One was pretty, with curling brown hair, the other wore a van-dyke beard that accentuated a cruel mouth and hard eyes. “Louis,” Bruiser said, gesturing to the pretty one.
I grunted and passed his cell back. Heard the muted click and Shemmy said, “Excuse me, sirs, ma’am. But we have a report of a revenant rising in St. Louis Cemetery Number One. There’s already video of skeletal fingers pushing through a mausoleum wall. I’m assuming you want to go there?” Shemmy sounded eager, as if he found all this entertaining as heck. Let him get chewed on by a dog-fanged vamp and see how entertaining it was. I stretched my shoulder, peeved. I liked that word. Peeved. It was more refined than saying pissed.
“With all speed,” Bruiser said, swiping his cell. “It’s nearly dusk and we’ll have undead Mithrans responding to Le Batard’s call as well as revenants. This will get messy.”
“We need better gear,” Eli said.
“Correction, Shemmy,” Bruiser said. “To St. Louis One by way of Jane’s home, please.”
The limo made a quick right turn, throwing me against Bruiser. I stayed there for a moment longer than necessary before sitting up straight. I didn’t know about other limos, but Leo’s limos didn’t have seat belts. When I sat up, I started braiding my hair into a tight-fighting queue.
“That will get us gear,” Eli said. “What about you?”
“I relayed a message from the Enforcer”—he glanced down at me—“to have a cyclist meet us at Yellowrock Securities with my gear.”
I was responsible for the MOC having motorcycles, all white, all exactly alike. Crotch rockets, fast, responsive, and popular among the blood-servants, especially the younger males, some of whom had been reprimanded for racing in the streets at two a.m. last week. Now they had permission to drive too fast.
“Sure. Whatever. And why are you going at all?” I asked.
Bruiser slouched in his seat, one elbow braced on a seat arm, fingers latched across his middle, legs out and crossed at the ankle. He looked good. More than good. And the way his eyes fastened to me, heated and intense, I’d say he knew it. I had seldom used the word sexy in my thoughts about anyone, but oh my God—the man was hot. Freaking. Hot. Sexy didn’t even begin to cover it. Or uncover it. A dozen visions of Bruiser naked on my bed or his or in the shower raced through my mind.
“Again—” Eli started.
“We know,” I interrupted. “Get a room. You wouldn’t be so difficult if you weren’t fighting with Sylvia.”
“Again. I am not going on a cruise.”
I grabbed the strap at the door to keep from being slung across the limo as Shemmy made a fast turn and braked in front of my house. The driver said, “I’ll stay right here unless traffic makes me move, in which case I’ll circle the block and come back.”
“Back up and block the street, emergency blinkers on. I’ll text when we’re nearly ready,” Bruiser said, opening the door. “If there’s traffic, they can wait.”
“I love my job,” Shemmy said.
We got out and ran for the front door, just as a crotch rocket motorcycle roared the wrong way up the street.
Inside, I shut my door and pulled out one of the newest sets of fighting gear sent by Leo. This wasn’t as pretty or as expensive as the three sets of fancy leathers he’d sent last time. The pretty ones were for formal occasions, and the one damaged at the witch conclave had been sent off for repair. The new leathers were not showy, but utilitarian; they had a dull finish that didn’t catch the light, and they didn’t squeak when I wore them. The fancy ones did. Eli was working on fixing that so I didn’t embarrass myself at the next official shindig, but for now, I was in matte black.
I drew on Beast-speed, stripped fast, and yanked on the long silk underwear that gave a layer of protection between my skin and the anti-spell silk lining of the leathers. I slid into the pants and zipped the jacket. My leathers, and the straps and buckles that held my fighting gear snug, had been adjusted to me, the fit tight but breathable. They were spelled with anti-spell workings by the witch coven in Seattle, the coven that spelled the government’s military armor. My gear had plastic armor inserts at groin, elbows, and knees—the favorite vamp dinner sites—and fine sterling silver mesh between the layers to keep vamps from biting down. I put on my own gorget and leather wristbands.
I weaponed up, threading on the harness designed to carry maximum firepower and blades. If the revenants had started coming out before dusk, I had no idea what might happen after the sun set.
Fun, Beast thought at me.
“Not,” I said to her. I added mags loaded with silver ammo in the utility pockets. I zipped them closed and folded over the Velcro pocket tabs to keep them in place.