Skinwalker (40 page)

Ipsita was the South Asian girl, delicate as a rosebud, the girl who looked like she might be twelve. She roused my protective instincts. Knowing she was of legal age didn't help me to see her differently, and the idea of her going on a “date” with an old vamp made me grind my molars.
And anyway, why is Leo making off with one of Katie's girls?
I didn't realize I had spoken that last part aloud until they all turned and looked at me.
Crap.
Even Indigo stuck her head back in, a look of surprise and puzzlement on her face.

In for a penny . . . “It seems to me that until Katie gets back, Tr—Tom should be in charge.” I looked at Troll. “Does Katie have legal papers written up about who takes over if she is”—
stuck in a coffin in a pool of vamp blood?
—“indisposed?”

Leo lifted his head. “I am Katie's master. It is fitting that I assume command for her while she is unwell.”

“Maybe in the Dark Ages, but not in the United States and not now.” So much for me not getting into vamp politics. “Tom? Where does Katie keep her legal papers?”

He entered, keeping well away from Leo, and knelt at Katie's desk. Using a small key, he unlocked a file cabinet cleverly tucked against the wall, in a shadow. Papers rustled, the silence charged with something volatile, explosive. Indigo disappeared. Smart girl. I wasn't so wise, however. I stuck around to see what happened to the hornet's nest I was currently kicking. A moment later Troll withdrew an expandable file and stood behind the desk, the folder in both hands, indecisive. Okay, scared to death. I could smell his fear.

I got up from the spot where Leo had placed me, which suddenly bothered me a lot more than it had, took the folder, and centered it on the desktop. I opened it. “Which ones?” I asked. Troll reached around me and tapped a tab about midway back. I couldn't read the tab's print; it might have been French. I withdrew the papers and opened them, scanning the first five sheets of legal mumbo jumbo, not understanding what I saw even though it was in English, but using the time to think. Leo was old. Real old. Maybe even feudal-times old. Back when honor meant something. I held the pages out to Leo. “What does she want?”

I thought I heard Troll smother a laugh, but it could have been a cough. If Leo was an honorable man, he'd read the pages and follow the directions in them. If not, then he wasn't honorable. Of course, the fact that he wasn't a man at all might complicate things.

Leo went still, that marble-statue stillness, not breathing, not blinking, not anything. It's eerie and unsettling to watch, and it probably foreshadows danger of a very messy and bloody variety, but then, my understanding of sane vamps was still limited, and I had three stakes in my bun and a nice selection of crosses on my person. Leo went on not moving. The silence went from unsettling to unnatural, to eerie, creepy, and then scary. His pheromones were pure rage. Behind me, Troll's breathing was unsteady; his heart beat too fast. The chemical composition of his sweat was bitter; Beast recognized the smell as death terrors. Finally, Leo pulled in a sharp breath. I nearly jumped. Beast flexed her claws. Troll stopped breathing altogether.

Leo slid across the room in a predatory slither, his eyes bled totally black with contained fury. He took the papers and read. Flipped pages. Read some more. He raised his eyes and looked from me to Tom and back again. “Katie has placed her holdings into Tom's hands.” When he spoke, his words were precise, his voice neutral, so lacking in emotion it might have been an electronic, digitized voice—except for that vaguely European accent that would make starlets swoon.

“All of her accounts, properties, and assets are under his control, including this house and its employees. All business and employment checks are to be written and signed by him and cosigned by me. All have this legal proviso.” He switched his gaze to Tom. “You knew this?” Tom nodded, the motion of his head jerky. “And yet you chose not to inform me. Why is that?”

“I . . . I . . .”

“He needed you,” I said. “He needed your protection from the rogue for the girls, he needed your goodwill for Katie, and he needed your intercession with the vamp council. And he was grateful that you called the gathering and put her to earth.”

Tom swallowed noisily under Leo's gaze. But the master of New Orleans slowly turned his eyes to me. “What do you know of
gatherings
and of one of us being
put to earth
?”

I shrugged. I wasn't about to answer that one. He'd smell a lie. He wouldn't believe the truth. Or he would believe it and think how handy it would be to have a skinwalker as a blood-slave. I wasn't eager to fight him. Not now. If I had to go stake-to-fang with the blood-master of New Orleans, then I wanted my chain-mail collar, studded clothes, and plenty of prep time.

“So,” I said. “Back to the question that started all this. What are you doing making off with one of Katie's girls? Is she a date, does she get paid for her services, or are you pulling the dark right of kings on her? Because in my opinion, that's not gonna work for much longer.”

Suddenly, Leo seemed to find me amusing. He chuckled, handed Tom the legal papers, and took the seat I had vacated on the leather couch. He rested his arms across the back cushions, looking expansive, a lord in his domain. “And why should my rights change?”

“Simple. The courts in the United States are already looking at citizenship laws, slavery issues, and interpretation of legal statutes in light of a being with an expanded life span. Eventually, the ‘rights of a master' ”—I made little quotation marks in the air with my fingers, just in case he missed the sarcasm in my voice—“will come under scrutiny. And they'll be thrown out, as will the dark right of kings. No doubt about it.” Leo was looking at me, totally focused and unblinking, his mouth smiling, his eyes a deadly snake stare.

Snake poisons do not affect Beast
, she reminded me, unconcerned.

“It seems smart for you to start adapting how you do business,” I continued, “altering things from the way you vamps did them a thousand years ago. Good-faith moves, to make any future court take notice that you've been changing with the times.”

“The term ‘vamp' is insulting,” Leo said.

“Get used to it.” And why pick that one tiny part out of what I had been saying? I was tearing up his entire power structure and he gets his panties in a wad over the word “vamp”? I handed the papers to Troll. “I have work to do. Later, Troll.”

He nodded, a single shuddering move.

I was halfway out the door when Leo said, “My time with Ipsita is not by command.” I halted with my hands on either side of the doorjamb, and I didn't turn around. “I have paid her usual commission, plus a tip, in advance, according to my standing arrangement with Katie. I require an escort to a social function tonight.”

I nodded when he finished speaking, trying to decide how to reply. I settled on, “I appreciate you telling me.” Then I pushed off with my toes and headed toward the back door.

“You are dismissed.” The words floated after me.

The Lord of the Manor just had to add that last bit in, didn't he. But I could have sworn that he was laughing.

All that I wanted

I checked in with Molly, got her voice mail, and left a message. Bored, I checked my e-mail and spent some time on the Internet searching local society/gossip pages and a few online sites dedicated to local and state politics. I discovered that Anna was scheduled to attend an event in the French Quarter's four-star Marriott tonight. I pulled up maps, did a little math on distances, made notes, and hoped Beast could follow Anna home, or wherever she spent the night.

I took a nap until midnight, woke, and stripped down. Time to shift and go after the woman sleeping with Rick and the liver-eater in one of his shapes. The woman who was also involved with whatever was taking place in Leo's club. I wondered if Leo knew about that. I could have asked him—or maybe told him—about the meeting, but that info, on top of insulting him, might have been stupid. Even for me.

In the backyard, I dropped four steaks onto the ground and climbed, naked, to the top of the stones. The panther fetish necklace in hand, I checked that the small line of gold I had scored into the rock was still there. The rains had washed much of it away, and I again rubbed the gold nugget over the boulder's stone face.

Big?
Beast asked, hungry for size.

“Not yet,” I said. “But soon.” Beast said nothing to the refusal, and I sat, lotus position, the travel pack and necklace loose on my neck. I relaxed, settled onto the cool stone, and quickly sank into Beast's snake. The shift was easy tonight, dropping down, into the quiet rhythm of drums. The notes of flutes. A pulling of muscles and bones, a sharp gray tingling, as if I stuck my fingers into a light socket, and faint nausea after. Almost painless.

I stretched and huffed at ugly man-smells: breath of cars, stink of garbage, mold on walls of man-dens, paint, plastic, upholstery, scent of dog urine. Yappy mutts, fast snack. Padded down stones, bypassed sharp broken stone from when she became Jane after bird. Smell of dead cattle made belly rumble. Huffed, pulling blood and fat scent into mouth. Cold meat, but hunger demanded. Steak was fast bites, swallowing down chunks. Beneath was larger piece of meat, thick. Paw on top to tear and rend. Better when hot and fresh. Needed fresh kill.

Soft thump sounded. Whirled. Cat on fence, hunched. I hissed. Fangs bright in night.
My territory.
Cat yowled. Fell off other side. I huffed with laughter. Stupid cat. Jane ate cat when bird. Not very tasty, but fresh. I wanted to hunt deer. Kill and eat.

She wanted to hunt female who had sex with man. I ignored command and finished last of dead meat. Licked paws, groomed face. Drank from fountain of stone vampire.

Hunt!
Her command, urgent.

I jumped fence and padded around den, slinking through shadow. Down street, along walls, beneath ledges. Good place to hunt, sit on ledge, watch for prey. I jumped from man-path to chair, to upper ledge. Metal all around, to keep clumsy humans from falling. Made it hard to drop on prey. Stupid humans.

I huffed in disgust, dropped to smooth ground, still warm from hot day. Jogged down street, keeping to shadows, checking for humans and yappy dogs. Sitting still when humans drew near. Moving on after.

Hotel in view. Marriott. Too much man-lights. Faint trace of Anna-human on air, fresh, moving, in car with human man. Not Rick. Liver-eater? I raced down street, cornered into another. Saw/smelled Anna in car window. Headed toward liver-eater territory, over river. I crouched in shadows, watched for truck. Two came by, too tall. Another with picture of fish and crabs on side. Smelled wonderful. I licked mouth and gathered feet in tight. Truck moving like lumbering cow, slow, closer. Jumped to car trunk, raced up car roof, leaped. Landed on lumbering-cow truck. Settled to ride, crouching low. Claws on metal strip with bumps. Smell of seafood. Stomach rumbled. I lifted nose into air, smelling fish, crab. River drew near, with Anna-human scent, ahead. Lumbering cow-fish truck followed Anna-human across bridge.

I saw sign, WESTBANK EXPRESSWAY. Dropped into scent-bliss again, mouth open, face lifted into wind, taking in wonderful smells of fish, dead things, alligator, birds. Much prey here. Good smells. But watched signs, remembering. GENERAL DEGAULLE DRIVE. Cow-fish truck turned off, away from Anna-scent.

Hunt
, she commanded.

I huffed and jumped from wonderful cow-fish truck to roof of parked car. Trotted back to General DeGaulle Drive. Found Anna-human scent. Trotted after. Her scent turned on new street, sign in man-words, WOODLAND HWY. New part of town, south and west of French Quarter. Far from the liver-eater's known hunting range.

Cut across overgrown, marshy land. To English Turn Parkway. Big human-dens everywhere. Stink of chemicals.
Golf course
, she whispered. I trotted over bridge, chemical-smelling water. Found house where Anna-human and male entered. Anna-human scent everywhere. In garden. Her den. Kit. Mate.

Daughter. Husband. The mayor
, she whispered.

I paced perimeter in shadow of house. Lapped from fountain, water spouting from fish-mouth, but tasting of city water, not fish. House dark. Pool in back, man-lights blue in depth. I was hot, so waded in, cool water rising. I sighed, heat from run easing away. Paddled to far side and back, her pack floating. Refreshed, I stepped from pool, shook stink away. Tired, I stepped onto long chair, sank onto padding.
Lounge chair
, she said. I rested, tongue grooming smelly pool water from face, paws.

Inside, phone rang. Human-man answered, deep voice close, near door. “I know it's late,” tinny voice said through phone, far away.
Rick?
Jane asked.

“I'm still up, Ricky-bo. What I can do you for?” Both humans laughed.

I coughed softly. No humor in words.
Fake Cajun accent,
she thought. Still no humor. No prey to play with.

“I need some info,” Rick said.

“Of course, I'll do what I can. How can I help?”

“I ran into Anna at an event and she said you were helping a vampire clan buy up land along Privateer Boulevard in Barataria. I got me some friends who might like to sell, housing prices being so low and all.”

“And you want the vamps to pay you bigger money than current market prices.”

“And I'd like my name kept out of it, if possible. Put it all in Anna's name for now, like you're doing with your other land deal.”

Silence for a moment. “She tell you 'bout my other land deal, my Anna did?”