“Call them. In fact, call them before you go to the door. Send them an electronic retainer. And keep me in the loop.”
“Will do, Queenie.” Wrassler disconnected.
“Queenie,” Alex mocked.
I let him. Being teased was a spot of normalcy in my life.
Lincoln said, “You gonna tell me why you’re still in half-cat form? And why you’re hiding out here instead of being in charge of all this mess in New Orleans?”
“Sure. My human body is dying of magic cancer. This one is healthy. And stronger, faster, and more agile than my human shape. Plus, between you and me, I quit. I sent a letter to Edmund resigning the job of Dark Queen and empress and leaving it all to him. Either he never got the letter or he decided he didn’t want the job and is winging it until something else happens.”
Shaddock sat on the ottoman in front of the sofa and laced his big hands between his knees. “Shimon didn’t seem to know that. Therefore, I agree. If Ed got the letter, then he kept that information from the Flayer of Mithrans even under duress, with the younger Son of Darkness in his mind.”
Which would make Ed way more powerful than he appeared. I grinned again. “Correct.” To Alex, I said, “Make sure our people can get back here at first light. Whatever it takes. Eli and I need to go scouting to the west. Oh. And see if you can find Legolas.” Alex looked confused. “The blond vamp who tore out Shiloh’s throat. He wasn’t at the Regal. He’s mine. Personal combat.”
“On the contrary, Queenie,” Lincoln said, making it a permanent nickname. “He insulted my empress by harming her primo on my territory. Technically, according to the Vampira Carta one and two, he’s mine. Personal combat, to the death,” he said to Alex. “You find him, you let me know.”
Alex tilted his head to me, his long curls bobbing, eyes flashing amusement. “Protecting our Queenie is not gonna be easy. She likes to fight her own battles.”
“Which she can do. But if we end up fighting through layers of pissant, lower-echelon-level bullyboys, that’s not her fight. It’s mine.” Shaddock glanced at me. “We clear on that?”
“Crystal. I’m heading for bed. Alex needs shut-eye too, if one of your people can man the screens and the security system. Later.”
I went up to Bruiser’s and my room and crashed, my nose on his pillow so I could surround myself with his scent.
* * *
* * *
I slept until ten, when the mattress moved and I smelled Angie and EJ. Both kids climbed up on the bed, Angie on one side, EJ on the other. I grunted, my face buried in a pillow and covered by a veil of my long hair. “I’m still wearing my costume,” I said.
“Dat not a costume,” EJ said. “Dat’s Ant Jane Big-Cat. Mama said so.”
“Even though I’m ugly?” I asked. “Scary? And have big teeth?”
“The be’er to eat you with,” EJ said, and giggled.
“Ant Jane isn’t a wolf. She’s a big-cat,” Angie said.
“Like the one we saw outside the window? Except her not spawtted.”
I reached back and pulled my hair out of the way, rolling over slowly. I sat up on the bed, glad to see that I’d fallen into the sheets fully clothed. “Spotted? What spotted cat?” I asked softly, remembering the scat on the edge of my hunting territory. “And how big was it?”
“It was big,” EJ said. “Big as a lion!” His eyes went wide and his arms spread out.
Angie was watching me too carefully, her strawberry blond curls tied back in a tail. “Mama said it was prob’y a house cat, but it was too big. It was a big-cat, Ant Jane. Bigger than your big-cat.”
“Did it make a noise? A sound? Did it roar?”
“It did this,” EJ said. He made three coughing noises and then he opened his mouth and tapped on his cheeks, making a hollow noise. “And then it did this.” He snarled and made a roaring sound. Almost like an African lion. Almost.
It seemed the cat from the small creek on my hunting territory had decided to come closer. I rolled out of the bed to my feet. “Show me.”
EJ reached up with both hands, a demand to be picked up. I swung him up in my arms and, when we were in the hallway, up to my shoulders to ride.
Angie took my hand, a big girl, though the desire to be carried through the house on