A muffled scream sounded in the instant the door was open. A wind whooshed through. I caught a whiff of burning human flesh and terror and bowels and urine. Bruiser took an uneasy breath. Glanced at me in warning and question. I gave him a quick nod to show I smelled it too. But no one moved this way when the door closed. We slid into shadow.
Using standard paramilitary urban-operations, conceal-and-clear techniques, we slid from shadow to shadow and room to room, clearing each, moving faster than human, but still silent and far too slow. The sound of muffled screaming grew strong, but despite my instincts, I didn’t rush back, not until I knew we would be safe. No point in giving them more people to hurt, whoever they were.
The place was deserted. No people, no furniture. No furnishings at all. Walls were cut, broken, shot up. Blood was everywhere. I didn’t know whose.
Grégoire had gotten his people out. Grégoire’s primo, Dominique, and Shaun Mac Lochlainn, her anamchara, were in Atlanta, with Del, Leo’s primo and his lawyer, Del flying back and forth as needed to deal with Leo’s legal needs in New Orleans and cleaning up the legal and physical mess that existed in Atlanta since Leo had defeated the Blood Master of Georgia. Grégoire’s scions and blood-servants had been with him at HQ. He might have been a quivering ball of terror at the thought of Le Batard being in New Orleans, but he had still been thinking. Until he was taken.
We moved quickly to the back of the house and met at the kitchen door. A woman’s voice carried through the door, smooth, velvet tones, accented, perhaps Greek. But definitely European. “Where are the Onorios Brian and Brandon Robere?” she asked. A muffled scream followed. Grunting. Then again, soft and pleasant, the woman asked, “Where are the Onorios Brian and Brandon Robere?” There was no mention of Grégoire. They had him already. The victim, clearly being tortured, screamed again. Through the door we heard, “I shall remove the choke gag from you and you will answer me, every question, this time. And then I will kill you quickly. If I sense prevarication, I will replace the choke and proceed as I have until now. Nod if you understand. Good boy.”
Bruiser looked at me and his face was both intent and weirdly happy. He leaned in and whispered, “Six against two. No place I’d rather be. No one I’d rather be with. Not in all of my long years.”
My heart did a little somersault and pirouette. Bruiser kicked in the door.
CHAPTER 14
If It’s Ass You Want . . .
Time sped up with battlefield awareness. I took in the upscale kitchen in an instant. The kitchen stovetop burners were on, gas flames a bright, too-hot blue. Knives glowed red in the flames. Two foreign vamps and six unknown blood-servants. Another blood-servant was stretched out over the island, face up, arms and legs cinched back. Naked. Exposed. Torso and thighs burned where he’d been tortured.
Before I could blink, the vamps whirled and drew swords. Bruiser fired twice, fast, two-tapping the vamp closest to the tortured human. The other vamp popped toward Bruiser. The blood-servants swept toward me like a wave of death, blades in every hand. I braced the Benelli against my shoulder, aimed at the first human, midcenter, fired, the shot pattern tight and deadly. She fell. All sound blasted away by the shot. We had miscounted at four humans.
The others spread out, moving so fast I could barely follow, humans hyped up on vamp blood. I fired again, missing, wasting my expensive ammo on humans.
Stupid thought.
I aimed, fired. Fired. Hit a second human, too low for a mortal wound, but she was down. Four shells gone, three left. Two humans down.
Three humans ducked behind the furniture, one on the far side of the island.
A fourth leaped atop the island. Even as her weight landed on one foot, she fired down at the man tied there. Three shots midchest. Pushed up, transferred her weight again, and fell onto me. I dropped back and down, the weapon pointed up. I had clear and complete focus on the woman’s face as she fell. Onto me. Onto my shotgun.
Miscalculation. Shock at the sight of my face. Fear. In midair, she tried to roll away. I squeezed the trigger. Upper chest, center. Took out her sternum and everything beneath it, including heart. I rolled away and she landed on the spot where I’d lain.
Three down. Three bad guys to go. Two shots left before I had to reload. At the speed the humans were moving, I’d never get that done.
The human behind the island was crouching around the side; I took aim at where the head should appear. Someone outside my field of vision tossed a pile of kitchen cloths onto the flaming stove and slammed a bottle of something on top. It shattered. The scent of good brandy filled the air. The cloths ignited in a whomp of sound and bright light. Flames leaped high Beast retreated from the forefront of my brain, shouting into my thoughts, Fire!
I centered the sights on the very edge of the island. The human behind it stuck out his head just as the woman who had thrown the brandy rushed me. I squeezed the trigger. The top of his head burst all over the cabinets behind. It was still splattering when I rolled flat to my back, weapon pointed down along my body. Tucked my toes down hard. Fired.
Last shot. The weapon bucked slightly in my arms.
The female blood-servant dropped. I was out of ammo with one human left. Where was he? Where were the vamps?
The last human raced through the kitchen doorway and into the predawn, a blur of darkness. I rolled over again, now holding a nine-millimeter that had been in the gobag. Smoke roiled slowly across the ceiling. Flames danced up the wall and dashed across the ceiling, separating the smoke and sending it rolling faster. The room was hot. My wet clothing started to steam.
Fire dashed across the room. Ignited a tablecloth. The kitchen was empty.
Except for Bruiser and a vamp.
They were sitting together on the floor, the vamp’s legs splayed like a child’s in a sandbox. Bruiser sat on her lap, his arms around her, her head pressed to his neck. She was drinking.
I scuttled close to separate her from her undead life. But Bruiser’s arms tightened, pulling her closer. Something dark and deadly crawled through me. Bruiser, loving a vamp. I centered the weapon on her head. Bruiser held up a single finger, telling me . . . Telling me to wait? Wait! While another woman sucked on him? My heart did a twisting dive.
Beast dove to the forefront of my brain and growled. Mate. My mate. Kill other.
“Bruiser?”
Bruiser’s finger rose again. I realized the vamp wasn’t drinking. She was sitting with her fangs at Bruiser’s throat but not inside his flesh.
I saw it then. The magics. Dark red rose, the color of watered blood, clear and sparkling, as if it contained bubbles. Magic like champagne. Flowing from the female vamp and into him. Into Bruiser. Into Bruiser. Into . . . He was draining the vamp.
Onorio magics, unknown magics. No one had any idea what Onorios did. What they could do. Only that they were rare. And powerful. And that Leo had three. Or he’d had three until today.
Slowly, I lowered the weapon. Safetied and put it away.