Cold Reign (Jane Yellowrock #11)(65)
“Detener,” she said.
Bullets chiseled into the walls, floors, people. Shrapnel flew. Screams and the smell of blood filled the air. I shoved the blade an inch into her flesh, into a blue tattoo, getting a nose full of silver-scorched skin and blood as I took a breath. “Louder,” I growled.
“Pararse! Detener! Stop! Withdraw!”
Gangbangers whirled and vanished, darting into the rain. The ones who were cornered put weapons on the floor. Ten seconds after time went back to normal, the battle was over.
We lost the redheaded male vamp. Callan and Fernand vanished as they popped away at vamp-speed. The security types were mostly untangled in front of the elevator. And I was about a quarter of the way to Beast-form. Fortunately it was still dark and the storm still raged. I threw the injured vamp at Wrassler and growled, “Get her to Leo. Have him read her. I want to know everything she does, pronto.”
“I know nothing that could be of use to you,” she said, sounding Frenchy, not even bothering to struggle in Wrassler’s arms.
“Whatever.” To Wrassler I added, “Clear the area and get the bomb squad in here. There are bombs set up in the ballroom.”
His eyes whipped around the room, taking in the changes to the architecture. “Copy, Legs.” He yanked the vamp off her feet and moved away.
I shouted, “Eli. With me.” By the smell, one revenant was still on premises and had made it down the stairs to the basements.
Before I could lead the way down, lights and sirens pulled up under the porte cochere. Rick LaFleur led the way in with members of local and state law enforcement, the men and women wearing navy rain gear with the letters NOGTF on the front. NOGTF was the New Orleans Gang Task Force, a multiagency task force with the FBI. I spotted cops as they took off into the night after the running kids. Rick caught my eye and I gave him a single, hard nod. He returned it. He was dealing. Good. I raced down the basement stairs, Eli on my heels.
Down and down and down, through another passageway, and down and down, following the scent of the rev. But the twice-dead thing stopped before he hit the deepest basement and the thing that hung on the walls there. The revenant wasn’t in sub-five with the Son of Darkness. He had veered off course into sub-four. I knew in my bones what the rev was after. Adrianna. The vamp Leo had kept alive despite all the times I had killed her.
Leo had kept Fernand and Amitee, and even Callan near him. He had a plan on how to use them all. I hoped he’d find success with all that. I figured it was about as likely as a six-foot snowfall in Hades.
I raced down the hallway, following the faint stink of rot. The Gray Between hovered around me as I ran; my fangs disappeared and my pelt shimmered into flesh. I returned to fully human without having to stop and change. Something was happening to my magics, but I didn’t have time to analyze it. We spun around the corner and found ourselves staring down the barrel of a gun from floor level.
In front of the sealed doorway to Adrianna’s prison, lying in a pool of her own blood, was Ro Moore, one of Leo’s new security people out of Atlanta and Katie’s new Enforcer. With her shirt, she had fashioned makeshift bandages that covered her left arm and shoulder, the sports bra beneath drenched in blood. A nine-millimeter was in her right hand holding a steady aim on us. When she saw us, she laid the gun on her middle, and her body quivered in what smelled like relief and pain.
Eli dashed to her, murmuring, “How many rounds? Where are you hit?”
“Two in my left shoulder, nine-mil. I think one punctured a lung.” Ro coughed and blood came up with the expelled breath.
We now had WiFi in the basements and I called up to Bruiser, saying, “Wounded in sub-four. We need medic—”
Edmund popped into place at my side, startling me.
“—A-SAP,” I said, closing the cell’s Kevlar cover.
Ed knelt at Ro’s side and peeled back her bandage. “You are the human female who fights in cages.”
“Yeah,” she gasped as he probed the wounds. She wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist. “I can usually take care of myself. But there were three of them. With guns.” She chuckled and more blood splattered. “They don’t allow guns in the pit.”
“Wise decision there.” Edmund ripped the strap of the sports bra from her, without jostling her body. “Are you averse to close physical contact with me? You are badly injured. I will need to—”
She coughed again and blood went everywhere. I could hear the fluid gurgling in her lungs. Edmund had been many things in his long life; one was a physician. He pulled a blade and sliced two of his fingers deeply enough that the blood wouldn’t clot over too quickly.
“I am most sorry,” he said. And he thrust his fingers into the wounds. She coughed and gagged and writhed, smearing the blood beneath her like some kind of artwork for a horror flick. Ed put his free hand on Ro’s head and said, “Be still. All is well.” His voice fell low, slow, the tone they use when they draw on their power to mesmerize. “All is well. Do you know how much the Master of the City approves of you?” he said in the same easy tone. “He sets you on guard duty, in the bowels of the building, an indication of how much he trusts you with his secrets and his body.” Ed looked up at us and mouthed, Medic!
I had seen Ed heal with his blood and his magic. He had brought me back from the brink of death. But I wasn’t human. Ro was dying. Fear sliced along my nerves and I raced back up the steps. Snagged two paramedics as they came in the outer door. “Downstairs. Elevator.” I didn’t mean to shove them and their gear and the stretcher into the elevator, but somehow that was what I did. They landed with a jumble and clatter of metal and hard plastic. I stabbed the button, trying to remember how to get to the sealed door once we got off the elevator and how many walls I’d have to punch out to get the stretcher through.