This Side of the Grave (Night Huntress, #5)(35)

“Why is Apollyon so convinced ghouls would win in a war against vampires, anyway?” I asked, still rubbing my temple. “No offense, but from what I’ve seen, fangers have some distinct advantages over flesh-eaters.”

The ghoul still seemed a little dazed from the recent blow to his head, but he managed to answer me.

“Ghouls are harder to kill than vampires with your fragility to silver. But most importantly, since her sire is dead, Majestic no longer has loyalty to the vampire world. Should the ghoul nation go to war, she will now side with her people instead of vampires.”

Vlad let out a short laugh. “Your brains must not have fully regenerated if you think one ghoul alone can win the war.”

“I don’t know if Majestic’s aid can cause us to win,” the ghoul replied, sounding as weary as I felt in that moment. “Apollyon believes it can. But my brethren believe both sides would suffer unimaginable losses if we warred, and after that, how could anyone be considered a winner?”

A part of me empathized with the ghoul. He understood what a lot of people didn’t—that if you had to nearly destroy everyone on both sides to win a war, then it wasn’t a victory. He wasn’t blindly driven by a lust for power like Apollyon; in fact, in his own twisted way, this ghoul and the others from the hotel had been trying to save lives. I might not care for their strategy, but their motivations were far better than those of other hit men who’d been after me.

“Aside from your dead mates back at the hotel, how many others make up this vigilante group of yours?” Bones asked, his expression still hard as ever. A glance at Vlad revealed equal coldness. Looked like I was the only one feeling sorry for my would-be assassin.

The ghoul smiled. With the still-healing rent in his head, it wasn’t a pretty sight. “We were assigned to small groups, never knowing anyone outside our immediate division so that if one of us were captured, we couldn’t betray our brothers.”

Great. Someone smart had masterminded this cadre of killers out for my head. Maybe I should add shopping for tombstones to my To Do list. Was it Kennedy who said if an assassin was willing to give his or her life for a kill, there was no real way to defend against it? If so, he’d sadly had his own theory proved, too.

“How did you know where we were?” Bones went on.

The ghoul’s gaze slid to me again. “We heard you were meeting with Majestic. We watched the airport, the docks, train station, and bridges. There are only a limited number of ways into New Orleans. We followed you to the hotel when you rode in. Without your helmet, you were recognizable, even if she was not.”

“Told you helmets were safer,” I couldn’t help but mutter.

Bones gave me a look before hauling the ghoul up to his feet. “Right, then. If you’ve nothing else useful to tell me—”

“Let him go,” I said to Bones, who’d already hooked an arm around the ghoul’s neck with obvious deadly intent. “There’s no reason to kill him.”

His arm quit tightening, but both brows rose. “You’re putting me on?”

“No.” I came closer, giving the ghoul a measured look. “We don’t want war, either. That’s why we’re going to stop Apollyon before things get to that point, but we’ll do it without offering up my head. Maybe you can find those other groups and tell them we’re on the same side.”

Then I returned my attention to Bones. “Killing him isn’t going to help anything. While I’d be glad if I never saw him again, in his own way, he was just trying to protect his people.”

Bones let go of the ghoul with a muttered “Move and you’re dead,” before closing the last few feet that separated us. His hands settled gently on my shoulders.

“Look, luv, you can sympathize with the plonker’s motivations all you want, but the fact remains that—”

I smelled smoke right before hearing the “pop,” like a firecracker had gone off. Splatters of something thick coated my back even as a thud reverberated behind me. I whirled around to gape at what was left of the ghoul. His body pitched forward on the driveway, nothing but a smoldering mess left where his head had been.

Much slower, I turned around to see Vlad examining his fingernails, as if his hands weren’t still ablaze in the flames that had blasted the ghoul’s head off moments before.

“What the hell was that?” I gasped.

“Premature inflamulation,” he replied. “Happens sometimes. Very embarrassing, I don’t like to talk about it.”

A snort of amusement came from my right. I swung in that direction to see Bones bestow the most approving look on Vlad he’d ever given him. Then his expression sobered as he met my gaze.

“This is some sort of joke to you two?” I asked sharply, waving at the ghoul’s still smoking body. “We had a chance to maybe spread some goodwill among people who hate Apollyon as much as we do. You know, my enemy’s enemy is my friend and all that? But no, you guys think a barbecue is a better way to go about it!”

“If you’d let him free, he wouldn’t have told stories praising your generosity,” Vlad replied, his coppery green gaze remorseless. “He would’ve gone back to his zealot friends with the happy news that you’re a sentimental fool, inciting them to redouble their efforts to kill you. Quit applying human rules to undead power plays, Cat. You won’t like the results.”