I raised Nathaniel's hand to my mouth, bending over to press my mouth to the back of his hand. I licked his skin, one quick movement, and the taste of him was familiar. I knew in that moment that Raina had licked this skin, ran lips, tongue, teeth, down this body.
The munin welled up inside of me, and I fought it. The munin wanted to bite his hand, to draw blood and lap it like a cat with cream. The imagery was too repulsive to me. My own horror helped me chase Raina away. I pushed her down inside me and realized that she never really left me anymore. That was why she came so quickly and so easily. I felt her hiding inside me like a cancer waiting to spread.
I stood there with the taste of Nathaniel's skin in my mouth and did what Raina had never done: I gave comfort.
I raised Nathaniel's head gently until I could cradle his face between my hands. I kissed his forehead, I kissed the salty taste of tears from his cheeks.
He fell against me with a sob, arms locked around my legs, pressed against me. There was a moment when Raina tried to flare to life as Nathaniel's groin pressed against my bare legs.
I reached out to Richard, drawing on the mark between us. His power came to my call like a warm brush of fur. It helped chase away that awful, stinging presence.
I offered my hands to the other leopards. They pressed their faces to my skin, chin marking me like cats, licking me as if I were a kitten. I stood there with the three wereleopards pressed to me, borrowing Richard's power to keep Raina at bay. But it was more than that. Richard's power filled me, washed through me into the leopards.
I was like the wood in the center of a fire. Richard was the flame, and the wereleopards warmed themselves against that heat. They took it into themselves, bathed in it, wrapped it around themselves like a promise.
Standing there, caught between Richard's power, the wereleopards' needs, and that awful touch of Raina, like some foul perfume, I prayed: Dear God, don't let me fail them.
24
The greeting ceremony that had been interrupted last night was back on for tonight. One thing about the monsters: You have to observe the rules. The rules said we needed a greeting ceremony, well, by golly, we'd have one. Vengeful vampires, or crooked cops, or hell freezing over, if there was a rite to be performed, or a ceremony to be had, you went ahead with it. The vampires were worse about being cultured while they tore your throat out, but the werewolves weren't far behind.
Me, I'd have ordered takeout and said, "Hell with it; let's try to solve the mystery." But I wasn't in charge. Even crispy-crittering over twenty vamps last night didn't make me top dog or top anything else, though Verne's invitation had been very, very polite. Colin wasn't the only one who was scared of me now.
Executing almost all of Colin's vamps meant that Verne's pack was in charge now. They had the personnel to keep Colin from making more vamps. Apparently, if there was no tie between vampires and wereanimals in an area, then whoever had the strength could rule over the others. Until last night, Colin had kept the wolves in line; now the shoe was on the other foot, and from the look in Verne's eyes, the shoe was going to pinch.
It was one of those hot August nights that is utterly still. The world sits in the close, hot darkness as if holding its breath, waiting for a cool breeze that never comes.
But there was movement under the trees. No wind, but movement. People crept among the trees. No, not people, werewolves. Everyone was still in human form, but you wouldn't have mistaken them for human. They eased through the trees like gliding shadows, moving through the scattered underbrush almost soundlessly. If there had been even the smallest breeze to stir the trees, they would have been soundless. But a brush of twig, a crunch of leaf, a rustle of green leaves, and you heard them. On a night like tonight, even the small sounds carried.
A twig snapped off to my left, and I jumped. Jamil touched my arm, and I jumped again.
"Damn, babe, you're jumpy tonight."
"Don't call me babe."
His smile flashed in the darkness. "Sorry."
I rubbed my hands along my arms.
"You can't be cold," he said.
"I'm not." It wasn't cold that was trailing up and dawn my skin like insects marching.
"What's wrong?" Jason asked.
I stopped in the dark woods, knee-deep in some tall, leggy weed. I shook my head, searching the darkness. Yeah, there were several dozen werewolves slinking around, but it wasn't the shapeshifters themselves that were freaking me out. It was ... it was like hearing voices in a distant room. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I could hear them -- hear them in my head. I knew what it was; it was the munin. The munin in the lupanar. The munin called to me, whispered across my skin. They were eager for me to come, waiting for me. Shit.
Zane stared out into the dark. He was standing close enough that I heard him draw a breath and knew he was scenting the wind. They were all turned out into the night, even Nathaniel. He seemed more confident than I'd ever seen him, more comfortable in his own skin, no pun intended. Our little ceremony this afternoon had meant something to all three of the leopards. I still wasn't sure what, exactly, it meant to me.
They were all wearing old jeans, T-shirts, things you wouldn't mind shapeshifting in, because one night closer to the full moon, accidents happened. No, not accidents. I would get to watch some of them lose their human shapes tonight. I realized that I really didn't want to see it. Not really.
Asher and Damian were not here. They had gone to spy or negotiate with Colin and his remaining vamps. I'd thought this was a really bad idea, but Asher had assured me that it was expected. That he as Jean-Claude's second would carry the message that I, we, had spared Colin and his second in command, Barnaby. We had allowed his human servant to walk from the circle. We had been generous, and we didn't have to be. By their laws, Colin had overstepped his bounds. He was the lesser vampire, and we could have taken everything from him.
Of course, the truth was that Colin and Barnaby had escaped. The only person we allowed to escape was Colin's human servant. But Asher assured me that he could lie to Colin and that the Master of this City would never realize it was a lie.
There was a tightness in my gut at the thought of Damian and Asher out there alone with Colin and company. The vamps had rules for everything, but they had a tendency to bend the rules until they were just this side of breaking. Close enough to get Asher and Damian hurt. But Asher had been so confident, and tonight I was playing lupa. One monster at a time, I guess.
Another thing that was making me nervous was no guns. Knives were okay, they substituted for claws, but no guns. Marcus had been the same way. No Ulfric worth his salt would let you bring a gun into their inner sanctum. I understood it, but I didn't have to like it. After what I'd done for Verne last night, I thought the request for no guns was downright rude.