His voice mild, Koun said, “The Consort explained to me that tonight was supposed to be a simple reconnoiter, to determine if rumors in the Mithran community were correct: that a small group of Melker’s followers had escaped the Dark Queen and were regrouping. The rumors suggested that Melker’s new heir was possibly on the premises. No combat was planned for tonight, solely reconnaissance, though of course, everyone came heavily armed and prepared for battle.”
“Of course you did,” Thema said. There was a hint of snide in her tone, which made me smile.
“Who is Melker?” I asked, the name familiar but not tied to a face.
Koun glanced at me in the rearview. “You called him Legolas. Or Lego.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Pretty hair. Super-duper dead.”
Koun’s eyes returned to the road. “While you were changing and shifting, we learned that when your people arrived, they saw a Naturaleza draining and killing a human. Eli intervened. That resulted in combat.”
“They left you at home,” Thema said to me again, her tone deliberately accusing. “It was an insult to a warrior.”
Ah. Thema had been left behind too. A warrior not called upon. I squashed down on the anger that wanted to rise. I knew the real reason I hadn’t been invited. My body doing the uncontrolled flip-flop shape-shifting-change thing wasn’t well known. Thema wasn’t included in the small group that was privy to my little problem. The guys and Molly, my witch BFF, were all worried about what would happen if I changed shape in the middle of a battle and what would happen if I shifted too slowly and died. I could practically hear Eli’s pedantic, cool voice in my head. You haven’t died since you were healed. We don’t know what’s happening with your body or your power. You could get people killed trying to protect you.
And on top of his mental voice came Bruiser’s. You are more than just a rogue-vampire hunter. When you killed the first Son of Darkness, the Flayer of Mithrans came to revenge him and kill you. When the Flayer died, others came to power. This is the way of life among Mithrans and Naturaleza. There is always an Heir. When you became the Dark Queen, you became the most valuable target in the world. You have political value and significance at this moment. You are the only thing keeping the Mithran world in balance. You need to stay alive so we can fight this war. He had laughed then. All that political reality aside, where you go, there I am, Jane. We can run away together and say to hell with all this, or you can stay, can choose war to protect all paranormals and humans. A war that will seldom allow you to fight. But you must choose.
Eli and Bruiser were both right. I had rushed in to help, probably making things worse by triggering a trap set for Bruiser and me, one that might have ended early had I stayed away. But if I hadn’t come and the trap had been sprung anyway, my people would have been dead. “Well, crap,” I said.
Koun’s cell phone buzzed. He answered and put the cell to his ear. “Koun.”
Bruiser’s voice said, “Shaddock bled and read two human blood-servants. There’s another house also being used as a nest, and the important Mithrans are there. Tonight was supposed to be an ambush that drew out and killed the Consort and the MOC of Asheville. And if they were very lucky, also the Dark Queen. With or without you, we would have been attacked by the second wave.”
In an instant, I put it together. When I became Dark Queen, I promoted Shaddock to master of the city status, and most vamps—any who had never seen him in action—would think that meant the recently upgraded MOC was an easy mark, his territory easy pickings. Shaddock was more than he appeared, but had they succeeded in taking him and Bruiser out . . . that might have destroyed me. The trap was an excellent political ploy for them, a win-win. And then of course, I raced to the scene, giving our enemies all the eggs in one basket. Crap.
“Someone set this trap,” Koun said, still talking to Bruiser, “and made certain that the intel got back to our people. We have a double agent or spy in our midst.”
“When don’t we?” I leaned forward and plucked the cell from Koun’s fingers. “Send us the address of the other nest. Send us fighters. We’ll make sure this ends tonight.”
Bruiser said, “Local law enforcement received a call from the governor of North Carolina, and they ceded control of this site to the Mithrans, pending a state court ruling on Friday. We may not remove any of the dead humans. We may not remove any Mithrans. The State Department has not returned my calls. It appears that the long-expected but hoped-against clash of the United States and the Dark Queen’s Court of Mithrans has begun.”
I hated politics. And I sucked at the sneaky finesse they required. “Call the governor back and remind them that vamps burn up in daylight, and they’ll take all the other bodies, and the premises, with them. Tell the powers that be to stop being stupid, or I’ll kick their collective asses. Except. More polite.”
Koun’s shoulders relaxed and my honeybunch chuckled. I’d been fighting political battles from afar for months. Having taken part in a real battle and having the love of my life still with me was the best thing to happen in all that time.
“I shall endeavor to remind all law enforcement and political powers,” Bruiser said, “that My Queen is most generous with her financial support in all elections and that she has also been generous with Mithran blood to heal their children and their families.”
“Way more polite,” I said. “Don’t forget the address.” I ended the call. The address popped up on Koun’s screen with the words “Keep her safe.” Good. They were going to let me play, this time without an argument, which meant they probably already knew it was safe, but I could pretend that wasn’t the case. I still needed to hit something.
Unfortunately when we arrived, there were no vehicles in the drive or the carport. The doors to the house were open to the summer night. Lights blazed through the windows.
When our party of ten stormed the house, no vamps were present. There was nothing to hit. Just a ransacked house that stank of vamps and old blood.
Still, we cleared the house carefully and discovered five humans in a back suite. I watched as Koun questioned the one who seemed the most mentally coherent and discovered that they had been unwillingly taken, bled repeatedly, and blood-bound. They were blood-slaves. They knew nothing. All they wanted was a vamp to drink from. My fists clenched. I needed to punch something. Or someone. Making human blood-slaves was one of many things about vamps that brought me nearly to rage. Most vamps called them cattle. Food. Toys. Under my rule as DQ, humans couldn’t be treated as cattle. Making new blood-slaves was no longer permitted, and though (according to the Vampira Carta of the Americas) I couldn’t outlaw it, I could tax it, and making blood-slaves was now a big financial drain on suckheads.
A lot of vamps who had sworn to me probably hated that, and if they had made slaves, they hid it well around me and members of my court. Blood-servants were fine. They could contract for and make all the servants they could take care of. Slavery? Nope. No more.