Cold Reign (Jane Yellowrock #11)(99)

Beast is shot. Need to shift. Blood is leaving Beast body. Could die.

Crap. Drink her blood to heal. Look at the room. I need to see. Jane shoved Beast aside and took over eyesight.

? ? ?

Fifteen humans had come under the door, into the room. Where had they been? The taco truck with the dead humans. The bodies had released bowels. The smell of spices and the stench of the dead probably covered up the living humans.

Beast has better nose than Ricky-Bo. Beast has nose from ugly dog.

She was right. Rick should not have done the recon. Beast and I should have. This was a trap for real.

Need food. Beast ripped out Amitee’s throat and ate it. Lapped at the blood that spouted from the severed carotids at her chest.

I tried not to gag and watched the fight. The battle was fast and furious. The humans were all wearing unfamiliar black-and-gray patterned camo, dull black boots. They each carried a sword and a nine-millimeter handgun, make and model also unfamiliar. They were using both weapons.

Edmund dispatched five of the humans, leaving them bleeding or in dead heaps on the floor. One had been disemboweled. The smells were awful. Beast licked her jaws. I tasted Amitee’s and Fernand’s blood; it was delicious. Powerful. And ick.

Eli was behind a massive metal trunk in the corner across from me/us. He glanced at us and took in the room, acquired a target. Fired. Aimed and fired. Fired. Fired. Each round found its target. But no one fell. These humans were hyped up on vamp blood.

Good vampire blood, Beast thought, still drinking. And sounding maybe a little drunk.

Three humans were firing at Edmund, but if they hit him I couldn’t see it. Several rounds hit Amitee, her humans less concerned about friendly fire. Her body jumped lightly with each shot, not that the round would do her harm. I didn’t smell silver in contact with vamp blood.

Good vampire blood, Beast thought again.

On the floor some twelve feet away, Fernand was feeling around with one hand and touching his facial bones with the other. There was nothing left from ear to ear and from eyebrows to the top of his neck.

He was making little sounds like, “Ih ih. Ieeee.” I was pretty sure part of his tongue was gone as well his face. But he was still moving and it looked as if the flesh of his face was starting to heal. Near us, Amitee’s throat was starting to regrow. They had been drinking from an old vamp to be this strong. Or . . . Or they were more powerful than they appeared. Just how old was the Rochefort clan in France? Was it possible to hide vampire power when a master vamp, Leo, drank from them? And how long had they been planning Leo’s overthrow? And . . . Immanuel, Leo’s supposed son, had been a crazy skinwalker. It was all tied together, but I was missing something. Who had the power and the time to do all this? Plan all this? Set it all in motion? Le Batard? Louis? Or was there someone else on shore with the power here? I remembered the vamps in the photos, the ones where vamps were coming ashore in dinghies. Who would be smart enough to make all this happen? Crap, crap, crap. What was I missing? The wigged-up woman. The vamp with her. Were they the ones attacking HQ?

Eli fired. Fired. Shouted, “Jane! How bad are you hurt?”

Chuffed. Stupid human. I am Beast. Am hurt bad or would be fighting. Tore vampire flesh and drank more vampire blood. Goooood vampire blood. Eli cursed. Fired. Fired.

Inside Beast, I worried. Even after drinking healing vamp blood, I/we could feel Beast weaken. The round must have taken out something important, a major blood vessel. I/we dropped down, flatter, and pulled the body closer, over us. We were lying in a pool of cooling Puma concolor blood. The unmoving undead body was both food and protection. Beast was eating. I concentrated on the fight and on trying not to gag.

I smelled Sabina but she wasn’t in sight. Her blood-scent came from near the garage door at a chair, one with a length of chain across the seat, near a small rod with an electric cord attached, an instrument like an electrician might use, a soldering iron. I caught a whiff of burned vamp-flesh. They had tortured her.

I took in Brandon and Brian. They were secured back to back. The only evidence I had they were alive was . . . nothing. No evidence at all. Until one took a faint, shallow breath and mewled again.

In the corner was a large silver cage. Inside was a vamp in rags. He was sitting on a three-legged stool, hunched over a rounded boulder, tangled hair trailing down over it. It was hard to be sure, with the degree of emaciation and scraggly beard and hair, but I thought it was the man from the mural, Adan Bouvier, the male witch-vamp who could call storms. Which he was doing, but clearly not by choice. He was mostly skeleton, his feet bare, burned where they touched the silver cage, his hands like bird claws. His talons were buried in the stone.

No. Not just a huge stone, but a massive geode. One end had been cut open and the inside was filled with crystals of pure, clear quartz. I remembered the saw outside. And the forklift. They’d have needed both to maneuver all this equipment. This wasn’t a room that had been quickly thrown together. This room, this scenario, had been in planning for a long time. Fernand and Amitee had been busy.

Eli fired. Fired. He raced from the protection of the trunk, toward us. He took cover behind the silvered cage, which on first thought was foolish, but then I realized it had to be warded. That was part of the glow on the bars. Eli was standing near the door to the cage. He was trying to get it open. I wasn’t sure that was wise, but I wasn’t in a position to do anything about it. Beast ripped part of Amitee’s upper arm away and chewed it. I remembered a time when the thought of Beast eating from a human had made me ill. Now she was eating a vamp who was still alive (undead) and all I could wonder was how long it would take the vamp to regrow the musculature and wonder if Beast would throw up the vamp flesh.