That was a lot of ifs, so I wasn’t holding my breath. When the clan home burned, Leo’s scions and blood-servants were busy saving the valuable art and jewels. Obscure hundred-year-old paperwork might have been ignored.
Del entered and stood at the entrance. Leo didn’t look away from me to her, but kept me in the harsh light of his dark gaze. Carefully, formally, as if the words had special meaning, he said, “Adelaide, you act now as official witness. Jane Yellowrock may speak and act in my name prior to dusk. At dusk, she will be dismissed as my Enforcer. If she missteps, and does harm to the one for whom she searches, it is upon her to accept retribution, not this clan, this city, or the Mithrans sworn to me.”
Great. So that was why he’d wanted me released. But . . . that meant I could do what needed to be done to stay alive and keep others alive. It was a nice little dance step around the truth. I let a small smile escape.
Leo’s pupils widened, his sclera bleeding slowly scarlet as he spoke. “From that moment onward, until such time as the mass murderer known as Joseph Santana is contained and his heart given to the human authorities, the services of Jane Yellowrock, in the capacity of Enforcer, will be no longer required. Her duties will be taken over in entirety by Derek Lee.”
“I have so noted,” Del said, her voice soft.
“As part of her search, she is to be allowed access to any part of the Council premises, including private apartments, is to be given any and all information, papers, and access to any human or Mithran she may wish to question. All will give her complete and full truth.”
“I have so noted,” Del said again, and I realized that this was a form of ceremony, hopefully one that didn’t require a bloodletting to seal the deal.
Leo transferred his gaze to Del and said, “You may wish to bring in my former primo to assist with any papers search. He was here when my clan home burned and oversaw storing my art and other salvage from the house.”
That former primo was my significant other. Boyfriend. Whatever. Bruiser. I fought the urge to grin like a fool at the thought of working with him.
To me, Leo said, “At dusk, you will be dismissed to fulfill your chores for the New Orleans Police Department, and to fulfill a new contract with the Master of the City of New Orleans. Any choices you make contrary to that contract will be upon your head.”
I let my smile widen and knew it to be an ugly, menacing smile. “I can live with that.” I let my expression add, But I don’t know if you can.
“Before dusk, you will acquire your papers and writ of . . . tracking. Yes. Tracking the monster, the murderer of humans.”
“With permission to take his heart,” I added.
“With that exact authorization and that exact wording.” His smile had widened to the full-toothed grin of a hungry predator. His fangs clicked down. And I remembered two things. Only hours ago, Leo had lost it—again—and savaged Gee DiMercy’s throat, and silver stakes were poor weapons against the MOC. I’d tried them once and he’d been healed. Holding me with his eyes, as if he could read my thoughts through my skin, Leo said, “Prepare the contract, my primo. Contact the mayor, and then the governor, that I may speak with them. Find the papers that came here from my clan home when it burned and give them to the vampire hunter. Go, Jane Yellowrock,” he said to me, “or I will drink you down.”
I went, backing slowly until the door hit me between the shoulder blades. I closed it silently behind me and let go the breath I’d been holding. “Holy crap on a cracker with toe jam,” I whispered. I shuddered hard and moved away from the office at speed. I was halfway to the front door when I was able to slow my breathing and my heart rate. “Ducky. Just freaking dang ducky.”
All those rocks and hard places started dancing in my brain: The rock as stated by Sabina. The rock of Leo wanting me to capture but not kill a murderer. And settling for me taking the murderer’s heart. The hard place of what I’d promised to Jodi, that I’d place the needs of the humans in front of Leo, no matter what it cost me. The safety and danger of working outside the job of Enforcer—the freedoms and the strictures both. Working for the mayor and the governor and Leo. Media meetings. Wondering what the European Mithrans would do to Leo in the face of these calamities. Wondering what life might be left in a Son of Darkness once I took his heart. And what the EuroVamps would do to the heart taker.
CHAPTER 7
You Wet Your Pants?
I stopped back at the house, parking the sexy Harley in the side alley leading to the small courtyard in back, and pulling the iron gate shut. The iron-on-iron clang felt like safety, like home. I leaned into the gate and closed my eyes, letting the weight of the last few hours blow out with my breath, letting it drip like water through me and down, off my fingertips and out the bottoms of my feet, the tension draining away in rivers of relief. Home . . .
When I opened my eyes, I saw a flash of light across the street, something white moving at speed. It was too fast for me to identify, but I could rule out lots of natural and supernatural creatures. I guessed it was Brute, the white werewolf who had bitten Joses— No. Joseph. From now on, it was Joseph. Joseph Santana.
I left the helmet on the bike. I missed my Harley, Bitsa, way more than I had expected to.
Eli met me on the back porch. Gallery. Whatever. He was wearing his new vamp-hunting gear. And he looked totally awesome. Matte black leather with sheathes, holsters, loops, military combat-style boots, and a utility belt that was built for the Hulk. He also carried a gobag big enough to hide a fully automatic something-something and a dozen fully loaded extended clips. With his brown skin and his close-cropped Army Ranger–style buzz cut, Eli Younger looked like a centerfold from a Guns & Ammo magazine.
My partner had once told me he would never wear leather, but the defensive benefits of the newest witch-spelled / Dyneema-threaded / Kevlar-enhanced / silver-plated–titanium–chain mail augmentations had changed his mind. I stopped on the low steps and asked, “Has Sylvia seen you in the new gear?”
The grin Eli gave me said, Yes, she has and We had fun taking it off. Sylvia Turpin, sheriff of Adams County, Mississippi, was Eli’s honeybun, and what they did in the sack was of no interest to me at all. “Never mind,” I said, waving away any attempt at an answer and looking longingly at the rock garden as I entered the house. It would be a long time before I got to check in on my Beast. I massaged my arm through my clothing, and the skin felt charged, as if I were standing on carpet in the winter and static electricity had coated my flesh. Prickles of pain radiated out from my fingertips. “Come on in,” I said to Eli. “We need to talk while I gear up.”