Black Arts: A Jane Yellowrock Novel

The cops arrived with lights and sirens, a mixed bag of city cops and sheriff’s deputies, which drew all the nosy neighbors out of their houses to the street, rich, older humans in their jammies, talking angrily about the peaceful neighborhood and the evil supernatural types disrupting it all. And generally getting in the way. The cops got in the way too, wanting to know where all the blood came from, and why Eli was nearly dead, and what kind of vamp ceremony was taking place in the backyard at the pool. They tried to stop the elder vamp priestess, Sabina Delgado y Agulilar, from getting to Eli, and one actually drew his service weapon. Bruiser started calling in lots of favors at NOPD headquarters and to the local sheriff to get the police to stand down. Tension was ratcheting up fast.

 

But the old priestess had little tolerance for human law or conventions. Instead of waiting for Bruiser to work through channels, she put some kind of whammy on the neighbors and the police, which was surely captured on the footage from the cop car cameras. There was nothing I could do about that part; Leo would just have to deal with it later. But whatever she did, the neighbors went back to bed and the cops were suddenly all smiling. They got in their cruisers and left. That wouldn’t be the end of it, but I took what I could get.

 

Sabina got Eli fully stabilized, his throat healed over, and his blood supply reestablished, but it wasn’t enough. He had lost too much blood and she was afraid that he would turn. Eli would have hated that. So I made the decision to call an ambulance and take him to a human hospital. The transport and paperwork were speedy, and the doctors efficient. Eli was pumped full of other people’s blood, four bags full, in just a matter of hours. His girlfriend, Sheriff Sylvia Turpin, showed up and took over, shoving me out of the picture, which worked perfectly for me. He had a bunch of new scars that he needed to explain to Syl, and since they might technically be my fault, I wanted to be long gone. The only good part in it was that at least I wasn’t having to tell her Eli had died on my watch. The Kid let me know that by ten a.m. Eli was griping about being released, which had to be a good sign.

 

While dealing with the cleanup at the house on the golf course, I received confirmation from Leo’s lab that the poison on the weapons wielded by Clan Arceneau’s jailbirds was indeed Jimsonweed. Which opened up a whole new area of concern for me. What effect the poison might have on me—on a skinwalker.

 

I also received final proof, way too dang late, that Shoffru had indeed hosted the coming-out party at Guilbeau’s, a situation I was going to have to remedy. Part of security for the vamps and humans in the Big Easy would mean, in the future, that a social secretary would schedule everything. Not that the vamps had a social sec. That was something they would have to deal with later too. All that took way too long. I was exhausted as the clock neared noon, and was tired of the dried blood crinkling on my skin and the stink of Derek caught in his T-shirt. And just plain tired. Tired to the marrow of my bones.

 

? ? ?

 

When I got home, it was well after noon, but I discovered on my bed a note on a fancy card, in a fancy envelope. Vamp-fancy, which meant calligraphy and high-bond paper and even some gilt. In the note, I was given orders to appear at Katie’s. “Posthaste,” the little note said, which would mean my very first ever meeting with a vamp during the day. That the vamp was Katie was a bit scary. And meant no nap for me.

 

I took a fast shower, put on clean clothes, so no stench of blood clung to me, and my vamp hunting gear for self-protection. I texted Adelaide Mooney that I had been summoned. She called me back quickly and made some recommendations.

 

Politely, still digesting Del’s comments, I knocked on Katie’s door.

 

Troll, trying to look unworried, let me in and secured the door from sunlight. I was about to ask him what the summons meant, but Katie appeared at his shoulder with that little pop of air that meant she had traveled fast from her lair, and since her flesh wasn’t smoking from contact with sunlight, I knew she had been in the lair that I had helped to design and build, in this house, under the stairs. She was dressed in a floor-length brown dress, her blond hair down and catching the lights. She looked human, not vamped-out. I figured that was the best I could hope for.

 

“Katie,” I said.

 

“Enforcer,” she said back. Which was not a fortunate start to the interview, centering on my job to protect vamps and follow orders. Which I hadn’t done. “You have news about the ones who took my servants and your friends. News you did not share with me.”

 

“Yes.” And those ones would be Jack and Cym. I took a steadying breath and drew on Del’s counsel and legalese. “I found them last night. The ones who took your girls and fed them to a newly freed scion are dead. And the girls have become blood-servants of one of Leo’s newest scions, Shiloh Everhart Stone, and they are all well again from the magics that were making them ill. But you know all this. So I’m thinking you really wanted to tell me something else.”

 

Katie said, “You have done well to find and destroy my enemies. I commend you. I shall provide the standard form of financial remuneration. I approve.”

 

“Um. Well, actually, Leo killed one of them.”

 

She smiled and it was a truly terrifying smile. “He did. And he did this for you. Use caution, little cat, that you do not stalk what is mine.”

 

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