bunch of junk. By the sour stench of smoke, it was Leo's junk, which meant expensive art and collectibles. Over the scent, I smelled tea and coffee and something sweet, like freshly baked pie or cake. My mouth watered.
The twin, who had no mole at his hairline, thus identifying him as Brian, closed the door and murmured into his mic, "Janie inside. Resume patrols."
"How many do you have patrolling?" I asked.
"Two shooters in the attic at front and back, five on the grounds. Brandon is at the back entrance, and I have the front."
I let a small smile form on my lips. "You know what I like about you and your ugly brother?" He cocked his head in question. "You don't get your panties in a wad when I ask questions."
"Boxers, not panties," he said, showing his teeth in what could only be called a rakish grin.
"Whatever," I said, laughing. I pointed to the dining room. "I didn't think anything had survived the fire."
"The servants got everything out of the library, all the paintings off the walls, and most of Leo's more valuable collectibles out before the fire spread. Gregoire had them transported here until we can arrange for storage elsewhere. Until Leo can rebuild. Sabina wanted you to have this. The Master of the City agreed."
Brian was holding a leather-bound book and a pair of white cotton gloves. I looked the question at him and he said, "Gloves. To protect the book."
I slid them on and took the small, very heavy book. I didn't know much about old books, but I had a feeling that this one was very old. The leather felt slightly slimy even through my gloves, the paper inside was thick, like paper handmade out of old cloth, and there were pictures in the margins. The print was weird too, with lots of curlicues. Then I realized it was hand-scribed, not printed, each letter and each painting inked by hand. This was a really old book. Maybe from the Middle Ages. I saw a few words that might have been Spanish or maybe Latin. What did I know? I couldn't read a word. "What is it?" I asked Brian.
He reached around me and opened it. On the right-hand page was a stylized drawing of a vampire. There was no title on the cover or the spine, but I did find one on the third page. "La Historia De Los Mithrans en Las Americas," I said. I might not read Spanish, but I got this one. "Oh, crap," I whispered.
Brian chuckled. "Yeah. Those Mithrans love to see themselves in print and paintings," he said, sounding very upper-class New Orleans in that moment. "It's for interesting reading. Sabina, the priestess, thinks you will find page 134 of particular interest."
I turned to page 134 and found a drawing that slowly stole the breath from my lungs. It was a drawing of a Spanish conquistador, his plate armor shining, one boot resting on the fallen form of an Indian. The man beneath his boot was naked, his hair unbound and tangled on the ground. He was dead, his blood leaking into the dirt from a large throat wound. And his hands were furred and clawed. Silently I mouthed the word "Skinwalker."
There were other naked Indians on the ground at the feet of the Spaniard; two had yellow eyes like mine, one was a woman. She was alive, fear etched on her face in stark black ink lines. "Can you read this?" I asked, tapping the text on the page.
"I am possessed of a classical education," Brian said with a pretentious sniff, "but that book isn't Latin, Greek, French, Italian, or modern Castilian Spanish. It's some archaic form of Spanish. I can make out the name of this vampire, however."
He reached around me, his body heat enveloping me like a warm blanket, and turned one page back. I had sparred with the B-twins once and their body heat had made the windows of the room sweat. I was cold now and wanted to lean into him. But I didn't. I couldn't. Gregoire's blood-servant pointed at the subtitle on the top of the page. "'Lucas Vazquez de Allyon. El Rival de la Muerte.' Death's Rival."
I took a slow breath, the air painful against my tight throat tissues. Lucas had known skinwalkers. Had killed skinwalkers. De Allyon was not just Leo's enemy. He was mine as well.
"I have to get back to the door," he said. "You'll need to talk to Leo about