He wants me dead for killing the thing that took the place of his son."
"If Leo wishes you dead, he will exterminate you himself, not allow others to kill for him. He may be deep within Dolore, but he is still master of this city. He is still cognizant of his duties and his power structure, and for now, you are necessary to him."
"And when he gives way to Dolore again?"
Bruiser shrugged slightly. "Then he may forget everything but grief and you may die."
"That sucks," I whispered.
Bruiser chuckled. And carried me outside, into the welcome heat of the night. All of the humans, blood-servants, blood-slaves, and the junkies, were on the lawn or standing beside cars, faces etched with fear, worry, or false ennui, depending on their natures or experience. Almost in unison, they turned to us, watching as Bruiser took the steps to the walkway. The buzz of voices fell utterly silent. A breeze had sprung up, uncertain of its direction, wet with river scent.
Brian and Brandon stepped close. "How is she?" Brian asked.
"I'm okay," I lied.
"Barely," Bruiser said dryly, his arms tightening around my thighs and chest. To the men, he said, "She's losing too much blood. The attack wasn't intended to close her wounds."
"And the masters?" a woman called from the dark of the lawn.
"In bloody deep shit," he said, his British heritage showing in the accent and phrasing.
To the twins he said, "Call Bethany. I presume she's in Leo's Porsche, likely 'round the block."
Brian looked at him oddly. "You sure? Bethany?"
"Leo's orders," Bruiser said. Both twins looked at me, speculation in their expressions.
Brandon punched on a cell and turned away, speaking softly. Bruiser raised his voice.
"This will be a difficult night, in the few hours left before dawn. I suggest you gather the rest of your clans' servants and slaves. The Mithrans need us tonight."
"Feeding frenzy," a voice murmured from the crowd.
"Maybe not. We can hope not," another said.
Cell phones were pulled and numbers punched in. Everywhere, bodies turned for privacy, leaving Bruiser and me alone in a sea of people. Down the street, a Porsche the maroon red of old blood pulled slowly down the narrow lane of open street, headlights picking out the servants, security, and drivers, their bodies showing tense in the sharp shadows, heads swiveling, staring into the dark as if watching for attack. Most had obviously seen something like this before, vamps on the edge of violence.
There was nothing in the lore about a feeding frenzy, but sharks were well known for it.
I knew from personal experience that big cats could go into killing mode and destroy anything they could catch. Vamps were predators of a particularly intelligent and gruesome variety. I started shivering, feeling cold, even in the humid heat.
Across the way, I saw a shimmer of magic, hazy blue and gray sparkles. Five indistinct forms stood in the shadows of a four-story warehouse that had been turned into condos, light spilling around them from a myriad of windows. Five witches, standing at what might have been the points of a pentagram, a glamour sparkling over them, making them appear middle-aged and dowdy. There was nothing threatening about them, but I wondered why they were there and what they wanted. I guessed they were the five witches Bliss and Tia had seen. I drew in a breath, testing the scents, and caught a whiff of witch. Familiar. It was similar to the witch scent I'd caught on the grave of the young rogue I'd seen rise. Similar, but not quite exact. And then it was gone, carried by the fitful currents following the Mississippi. It felt wrong for them to be here, watching vamps, but so much was amiss right now it was hard to tease out the differing strands of the tangled problems.
The Porsche braked to a stop and the passenger door opened. No light came on inside, leaving the interior like the mouth of a cave. Bruiser leaned in and sat me on the seat in a display of grace and sheer muscle. "Leo says to treat her."
"Yes. She is . . . weak," a soft voice said. "Injured." The accent was vaguely African and touched by French, the vowel sounds mellow and very round.
Fist still at my throat, my blood drying and sticky, wet and fresh, I turned to the driver's seat as the door closed at my side. I got my first look at Bethany. She had been a black woman when human and was now