Walter slid his fingers free and lifted the staff, rotating it across Angie to Villetti’s free hand.
Villetti’s eyes went wide at the feel of the staff in his hand. “Okay,” he said.
Walter carried Angie around the corner toward the sofa in the sitting room. Villetti still held the staff. Time caught up with the headset and EJ, on the floor in a pool of blood. He watched through Walter’s cam as the vamp settled Angie onthe sofa. When Villetti tried to cover her with the cloak, Walter intercepted it and deftly twisted the staff away at the same time.
“She will be uncomfortable with the cloak, and her staff will help her to heal,” he said, lying about the last part. “I need to feed her to heal her hands. Will you check on the others and give Angelina some privacy?”
Villetti looked at the cloak. At the staff. At Angie. His face said he wanted to confiscate the cloak and the staff for the local woo-woo department, but Walter had displayed the queen’s standard. The thought was as clear on his face as if he had cursed:Politics.
EJ chuffed out a laugh.
Villetti said, “You Everharts will be the death of me.”
“We all die, Detective. Some more than once.”
Without reacting to the small joke, Villetti walked to the front of the house, stepping carefully to avoid EJ and blood spatter. EJ had no cam on the cop, but was able to watch his sister and follow Walter’s actions as his own body began to come back from thestasisworking. His bones ached. His eyes were dry. The blood he was sitting in was coagulating and gummy.
But Angie was still breathing. Heart beating. Not bleeding. Not possessed.
Walter stepped away and checked on EJ, bending to look into EJ’s eyes. “I do believe you are coming to, boy.” Walter lifted him like a baby, carrying him to a chair in the same room with Angie, so he could watch them both. On the way, EJ got a glimpse of the kitchen and the blood, reminding him of the women Walter had carried outside. Rocas had been alive, though seemingly spelled asleep. Londyn was dead. Her throat had been torn out. He had a partial memory of Walter tryingto heal her. A third woman had been dead in a corner of the kitchen. She was still there.
Which vampire faction had killed Londyn? His former girlfriend had been well placed to keep watch on them and to cause problems as needed. Had she fulfilled her purpose and been eliminated? Had she overstepped her responsibilities when she delivered a demon bomb? Were there two or more factions working against one another? How did Ivyanna Holmes and Chancy/Cennet fit into all this craziness? Or were they part of a different puzzle entirely?
Back in the sitting room, Walter lifted Angie’s frostbitten hand. The skin was white, split, showing flesh beneath, too pale. As though he knew EJ could hear him, Walter said, casually, “No familiar vampire scent is in the house.”
Walter ripped his wrist and held the bloody slash to Angie’s lips.
Chapter Eight
Angie
I woke gagging. Bitter blood, thick and icy, slimed my tongue.Hell’s hounds.I pushed the vampire’s undead wrist away. I managed a mumbling, “I’m ’kay. Than’ you, Wal’er.” I tried to sit up, but my stomach roiled and I gagged deeper, my belly shoving up against my ribs. Acid in the back of my throat. Saliva pooling in my mouth. Breath coming fast. Headache abitch. I touched the tiara and silently thanked my angel—if he was still listening—for the providence of thehealingworking.
Warm hands—not vampire cold—helped me roll over and steadied me while scooting an old plastic trash can near my face. The bag was clean but the can stank of spoiled food and faintly of marijuana and ashes. Something glowed dimly at the bottom of the bag but I was too sick to care. I heaved, but nothing came up. Which would have been blood mixed with stomach acid and Suprema pizza, and was not something I wanted to taste in reverse, ever.
That same someone placed an ice-cold, wet rag on the back of my neck and smoothed my hair away from my face. I caught a glimpse of the unicom wristband he wore. Cop.Villetti. I did not want to be coddled or assisted by him. I especially didn’twant to be seen when I was helpless and puking. He’d been a thorn in my side for too long for me to accept his kindness. But his fingers were warm, and I got the sense that he was being nice in a way that said he wouldn’t poke fun at me for this weakness the next time I had to be around him.
He pressed ahealingamulet into my hand and tucked that hand against my belly.
My stomach settled, and my breathing slowed. I made a noise that vaguely sounded like, “M’ kay,” and twirled my hand in alet me upmotion. Villetti caught my shoulders and gently righted me, moving me slowly so I didn’t heave again.
He eased me against the sofa back, my cloak and staff beside me, almost, but not quite, touching my thigh. Which was covered with a very thin layer of skintight wool. Too thin. I could all but see my flesh through it. The top was similarly thin. No bra. I had gotten comfy in my apartment until the visions hit.
Visions.
Demon.
EJ.
I raised my head and spotted EJ only feet away, slumped in a chair, narrow aisle spaces and a coffee table between us. Vamp blood had saturated his clothing, smeared the chair, his hands, smudged his face. He looked as wrung out as I felt, but his eyes were open and focused. I wanted to ask about Londyn but didn’t yet have a voice. My head swam drunkenly. My hands ached and burned. I was loath to look, knowing from the pain, that Walter hadn’t been able to heal much.
On the table in front of EJ were his flutes and his castanets. His military-grade castanets. Weapons that civilians were not supposed to have. Beside the castanets were our illegal headsets. His blue eyes met mine. Blue as our mother’s. Full of warning.Don’t talk, they said.
Right. Castanets. My staff and cloak. So far, nothing had been confiscated. The only way our gear would not be confiscated at a magical crime scene was if we were under someone’s official banner. The queen’s banner covered everything from murder to crimes against nature to treason. We would be—should be—fine. If under grampa’s banner, things could get dicey. The Yellowrock banner was all warm and fuzzy but didn’t protect us much. Whose banner had Walter used? The Clan Yellowrock banner would be useless in this instance.
How much of our independence had been stripped away in a matter of minutes?
The military knew a lot about what the Everharts were, but Chat-town officials didn’t—or hadn’t. Once Villetti joined CPD, the level of knowledge available to local law enforcement had changed. His military experience and whatever classified intel he’d had access to, had come with him, even if he couldn’t share it. Certainly, in the war, he’d had a super-high security clearance.
