Page 127 of Hoofin’ It

“Do I want to know how long I was out this time?”

Marian stuck her hand in my pants pocket, located my phone, and checked the time. “Eight and a half hours. We both needed sleep, so don’t worry about it. I was just worried because you conked out fast. Quinton said it didn’t count as a faint because you were tired and needed sleep. I’m counting it as a faint.”

“All right. Did I miss anything important?”

The look Marian and Quinton exchanged warned me I had, but neither spoke.

“What did I miss?” Since Quinton would be a harder mark, I snagged Marian by her waist, pulled her to me, and pressed my lips to her throat. “If you want more of this later, you’ll talk, Miss Peterson.”

She giggled, wrapping her arms around me. “You’re bad.”

“So are you, lounging around without any clothes. I’m just a man, and I can’t take you home yet. When I get you home, you only have yourself to blame for all the ravishing of your person I intend to do.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“But you have to tell me what I missed first.”

“You’re a tough negotiator, Mr. Gibson.”

“You’re also going to have to marry me. That’s non-negotiable.”

She chuckled, settled herself on my lap, and rested her chin on my shoulder. “I think we may have slightly miscalculated.”

“We did?”

“It’s less we miscalculated and more that we underestimated how enthusiastically the Babylonians would join the hunt. Someone here talked to someone from a different hive, and that someone talked to someone from yet another hive, and it may have spiraled out of control.”

I made myself comfortable holding Marian, something I’d have no problem getting used to, as she was warm and fit against me just right, even though she did make my legs fall asleep. “How out of control are we talking?”

“Well, this hive has a hundred and thirty Babylonians, all adults, all with mounts, and eager to make a few forays to the surface. There’s another hive across the city with another twenty adults. They don’t have mounts, but they’re quadrupeds to begin with, so they don’t need them.”

I had a difficult time imagining a talon-footed, carapace-covered, tentacle-armed, clawed-handed Babylonian became a quadruped. “I’m becoming concerned.”

“That’s because you’re as wise as you are smart. Detroit’s hive mobilized about five hours ago, so they’re probably reaching the outskirts of the city now. They’re a mixed hive, so the bipeds are likely riding the quadrupeds, because if they brought their mounts, Chicago’s fucked.”

“Come again?”

“They have, in their infinite wisdom, convinced a herd of shedu to partner with them. The quadrupeds are the hive’s warrior maidens, and they partner with their shedu to protect each other in battle. In their hive, the bipeds are all males, and they ride their shedu to better slaughter their foes. Where the shedu roam, blood flows. Unfortunately, the shedu associated with this hive are more violent than their brethren.” Quinton grimaced.

“What the hell is a shedu?”

“The shedu of Detroit’s hive have the head of a man, the body of a lion, the wings of a great eagle, and the hooves of a bull. They’re tall, and when they look upon a man, their eyes see into his heart and know his worth. Sin is made clear, virtues are known, and justice is delivered. When they speak, only the truth falls from their lips, and when they hear a lie, their fury burns hotter than the sun. A wise man bows his head in the presence of the shedu, for the eyes are the mirrors of the soul, and only through the eyes may a man’s worth be known.” Quinton shuddered and shook his head. “I’ll pray they don’t bring their shedu, for should they, the canal will run red with blood.”

Okay, when Quinton feared something, it meant bad news. “Right. If I see any winged bulls, I won’t look up.”

“That’s a good start, except they are accompanied by the Babylonians. You won’t see them until it’s too late.”

“The Babylonians chameleons.”

“There’s a reason you haven’t seen or heard of them before, except in myth and legend. They aren’t just chameleons. They’re masters of illusion. One could walk right by you on the street, and you’d never know he was there. Some are loners, separated from the hive, wandering the Earth gathering knowledge, returning only to share the wealth they have gathered. You’ll never meet the son or daughter of one; they can’t reproduce with humans—they can’t even reproduce with each other. There are always exactly one hundred and forty-four thousand of them. When one dies, rebirth is immediate, and they rise on the morning of the fourth day.”

An unsettled feeling started in my chest and swept through me. I remembered the vampire telling me the significance of the sunrise of the fourth day. “They’re immortal.”

“They’re immortal with long memories, and should you make enemies of them, the best you can hope for is a four-day respite from their fury before they rise again and resume the hunt. Something has stirred their ire beyond what I anticipated. I don’t know what, and that frightens me most of all. I’d hoped for one or two to aid us in the hunt for the people who tried to kill you, to learn their names and their goals. Something tells me they know, and the corruption they’ve found is more extensive that I believed.”

The vampires I knew rarely showed fear; they’d already faced death, choosing to respect and control it rather than allow it to control them. I’d heard of other vampires of different broods, every bit the monster legend and lore made them out to be. But Ernesto and his children?

They were still scary, but they were a familiar fear, one I could respect and understand.