the warriors of the Flayer of Mithrans myself alone, if someone will take this bébé.”
Cassy began to scream. It was a high-pitched, demanding, furious wail. Thema looked as if she might faint. Or drop the infant. Or toss her like a basketball on fire.
“I’ll take her,” a soft voice said from the side. It was one of Lincoln’s servants, Barbara, or maybe Bridget. Something with a B. She gave a soft smile as Thema all but flung the child at her. “I’m an empty nester for over thirty years, but some things you don’t forget, like how to take care of a little one. Hey there, sweetums. Let’s get your tumtum some mama’s milk, yes, that’s a good baby.”
“Tumtum?” Thema said, before adding what might have been a prayer or a curse word in that liquid African language.
“I’ve called Lincoln to let him know we need Shiloh and to gear up to meet the visitors,” B said as she wended her way to the kitchens, bouncing the baby in her arms.
I shook my head at the utter composure of some blood-servants. Squalling babies, kids out cold, vamps in panic mode, witches on the floor, me in half-form, and . . . tumtum. “Shaddock trains his scions and chooses his clan members well,” I said. “I’ll be ready. How are we getting to Asheville? Shaddock’s snowmobiles will take hours.”
“Weather is holding,” Eli said. “No reason we can’t take Grégoire’s helo.”
I stopped and turned back to my partner. “You still got the helo up here?”
“It never left Asheville Regional Airport. Pilot will set down on the front lawn inside of thirty.”
That would be dusk for real. Probably true-dark and zero visibility in this weather. “Good work, Ranger man. You”—I pointed at Thema—“gear up. You said you’d fight the warriors of the Flayer of Mithrans? Well, you might get your wish. The Dark Queen commands your presence.” I almost said Look alive, but that might have been taken as snark by the undead woman.
I raced up the stairs and stripped, shoved aside the new armor Eli had ordered for me, and pulled on the older, scarlet fighting leathers and my double gorgets. I tucked my father’s fragile medicine bag inside my own, mostly empty, much more modern one. Eli had made it for me, telling me it was time to live my life as the Cherokee did, by Full Circle and harmony. I had done nothing with the bag, putting it off because I was dying. I sealed the bags into a pocket in the lining of my beat-up red leather jacket, thinking that I should have done what Eli said and tried to find some harmony sooner. I sorta kinda needed some harmony right now.
I considered the sword I’d practiced with but never mastered and put it aside. Instead I sheathed the vamp-killer I’d used when I was fighting Titus, the former European emperor. I’d taken his head with the steel-edged, long-bladed, silver-plated knife, one created especially for beheading vampires. I added the curved Mughal ceremonial blade, arranging it across my middle in its scarlet scabbard. These were the same blades I had used when I took the head of the Son of Darkness too. My lucky blades. I snorted with amusement.
No guns. Eli would have enough weaponry to take down a T. rex. No holy water, because it was old and the blessing wore off after time. I shoved seven silver stakes into the sheaths on my left outer thigh and seven ash wood ones into the sheaths on the right. Added all my throwing knives, which included the one I had thrown at the SOD to shut his sorry yapper up, long before I killed him. Three lucky blades. Coolio.
I combed out my hair, yanking on the tangles, and left it loose, like a taunt, an insult. You’re such a poor fighter I didn’t even bother to braid my hair out of the way. That kind of taunt. I rearranged le breloque on my head and studied myself in the bathroom mirror. The scarlet nails were the perfect complement to the red leathers. Thought about putting red lipstick on my cat lips. I raised my lips, showing my fangs.
Beast chuffed. Would look like kill. As if Jane ate enemy as prey.
“In that case I should paint Brute’s mouth.”
“I beg your pardon?” Bruiser asked from the bedroom doorway.
I chuckled, liking the vicious sound of my Beast-voice, feeling strong and in control. “Nothing. You look spiffy.”