Cold Reign (Jane Yellowrock #11)(46)

“We need to talk and you need to know something before we go back outside,” he said.

“That sounds ominous. Not as ominous as a revenant chewing on my shoulder, but bad enough.”

“Alex asked a question. One I hadn’t thought through.”

I nodded for him to continue and wadded up the garbage.

“Why are all these vamps buried with their heads? It’s common knowledge that vamps killed with silvershot, blades, or stakes can rise as revenants.”

I thought back to the only buried vamps I’d seen, in a mausoleum in the vamp cemetery. The vaults had been raided and the bodies tossed around. I honestly couldn’t say if they’d had their heads or not. “I don’t know. That sounds like a very important question for Leo.”

“Another one, then. Why were these suckheads buried in human graveyards instead of the vamp cemetery?”

“Huh. More questions for the MOC. That it?”

“No. Bruiser is outside, dealing with the media and with law enforcement for the riot and for the crime scene here.”

“And that’s important because . . . ?”

“Law enforcement includes PsyLED.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Another moment for my brain to catch up to my suddenly speeding heart. He didn’t mean Soul. He’d just have used the name of the Senior Agent. Eli meant someone else. I stood up from the floor, slowly, carefully. Just as slowly, I weaponed up in the gear Eli had set aside when I shifted. Nine-mil. Vamp-killers. I wished I had the Sword of the Enforcer. It had a scabbard and looked important. So did the blade Bruiser had given me. That one would work too. I needed more weapons.

“Jane?”

I pulled my hair back and up into a tail, then tied it in a knot and twisted it around. “Phone,” I said, holding out my hand.

Eli placed his in my palm. I dialed HQ, the direct line to Scrappy, Leo’s newish assistant. “This is Lee, Mr. Pellissier’s assistant. How are things progressing, Eli?”

“This is Jane. If I’m arrested, I recommend Eli Younger for my replacement as part-time Enforcer. Derek will need help, at least until this EuroVamp crap is handled.”

“Arrested?” she squeaked.

I hung up. Handed Eli his cell. “Keep outta this,” I said to him. “It’s personal.”

“Got that. Still gotchur six.”

There was nothing I could do about that. Free will and all. I spun on the toe of my boot and stalked into the rain. It wasn’t pouring as hard, more a steady patter instead of the previous downpour and alternating sleet. The lightning had resolved into a faint and distant rumble. The strange wet mist was back, though, thicker than ever, and I strode through it, my off-the-shelf combat boots splashing. I wasn’t in Enforcer gear—no spectacular leathers, no specially designed boots, and there was no way I was putting on the gorget until it had been steamed clean of my own blood and the damaged links repaired. But I was dressed in black, a long, lean form, my gold nugget necklace my only jewelry, weapons, and a scowl the devil himself would have admired. From the way people backed away, I knew my eyes were glowing gold, Beast close to the surface. It was her snarl on my face.

I stalked to the flashing lights, blue and red emergency vehicles resolving out of the fog, cops and techs and detectives stepping back. I caught his scent on the wind, slight but undeniably his. Wereleopard. Black wereleopard. Ricky-Bo LaFleur. The SAC, senior special agent in charge of the Knoxville, Asheville, and Chattanooga PsyLED office, and several other states if assigned by his superiors. My ex. We had things to say to each other.

Well, maybe it was clearer to say I had things to say to him. Not all that long ago, Rick had promised to kill my honeybunch and take me back, as if Bruiser were his personal threat and I was a toy to be fought over. Not. And Not.

I caught Bruiser’s scent, but not the smell of his blood. He was still okay. Something tight and twisted unclenched inside of me. But he was standing with Rick, his form tall and controlled, looking like a male model, a passive metrosexual. Utterly deceptive. I had seen my sweetcheeks fight. He was deadly. He’d fight if attacked, but would he be fast enough? Were-creatures were faster than human eyes could follow. The fear returned.

I strode from the fog, long steps, straight between them. Stopped, nose to nose with Rick. Unlike the cops behind me, he didn’t pull away. “Talk. Now,” I said. “Bruiser, we’ll be a minute.”

“Of course, love.”

I heard him turn and move away, about ten feet. Onorios have very acute hearing. He was giving me the pretense of privacy but still covering my back. Eli, disobeying orders, took up a position at Rick’s back. The corner of Rick’s eye twitched. He was a predator. He knew when he was being stalked and cornered. He looked different, older, worn. His black eyes still flashed and his hair still fell over his forehead in a small black curl. In the weather, it had formed into small ringlets at his collar. He was swoonworthy. He had also broken my heart, embarrassed me in front of the entire vamp city, and taken off with another woman, a curvy, sex-on-a-stick, gorgeous wereleopard. A creature like him. I had grieved. But I was done with that months ago.

I smiled at the memory, showing too many teeth, and snorted a breath at him. Big cat to big cat. The first steps of a challenge. “Ricky-Bo,” I whispered. “The last time we talked personal crap, you said we can’t be together, but that eventually you’d find a way out of this ‘were problem.’ Then you said, and I quote, ‘If you’re sleeping with him,’ meaning Bruiser, ‘I’ll kill him and take you.’” I dropped my voice, so low even a wereleopard had to tilt his head to hear. “Understand this, you foul piece of scum. You and I are done. I’m with George Dumas,” I said, using his real name to make sure there could be no confusion. “You touch my Bruiser and I’ll take your head so fast you’ll still be blinking as you fall in two. Anything happens to my Bruiser by an outside force or person, and I’ll take your head. My Bruiser disappears, and I’ll take your head. He stubs his toe and I’ll make you pay. Are we clear?”