Magic Rises (Kate Daniels 6)

"Okay. So what you're telling me is that they can choose to have scales or not to have scales?"

"Yes."

"But what about the wings?"

Doolittle spread his arms. "Bring me a wing and I'll tell you more."

I sighed and took myself to Desandra's room. Derek followed me, which was just as well since he was my partner for the shift.

I stuffed Lorelei far into the deep corner of my mind, the same place I put the realization that Hugh d'Ambray was within killing distance. If I concentrated too hard on either one, I'd do something rash. Rash wasn't in my vocabulary under the present circumstances. Not if I wanted to keep all of us breathing.

At least the Lorelei thing could be solved very simply. I had to find Curran and talk to him. He wouldn't lie to me. Of course, he wouldn't.

Chapter 12

When I walked through the door, Andrea's eyes were really big and she had that pained expression that usually meant she wanted to pull her gun out and shoot somebody.

"What's up?"

"The Italians won the hunt," Raphael said. "We're supposed to have a big celebratory dinner in a couple of days in their honor."

Okay. Not really surprising. I'd stayed behind, which dropped our team's numbers to eleven. Half of them had guarded Desandra, and I had a feeling that Aunt B, Raphael, and Andrea had concentrated purely on getting the best kill for the panacea.

"I was just telling them it was Gerardo," Desandra said. "It's his long legs. He can run forever. Most men don't have sexy legs, but he does. They are very elegant."

Aha.

"And, like I was saying, he is hung."

Oh boy.

Andrea turned her back to Desandra and rolled her eyes. Raphael grimaced. They both looked scandalized. Dear God, what could she have said to scandalize a bouda . . .

"No, really!" Desandra nodded. "Okay, so most guys don't have a nice ball sack, right? It looks all hairy and wrinkled like some small animal died between their legs, but Gerardo's is like two plums in a velvet bag . . ."

Derek, who'd been lingering in the doorway, took a careful step to the left behind the wall and disappeared from my view.

Kill me, somebody. I raised my hand. "Hold that thought. I need to borrow Andrea for a minute."

I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hallway. Behind us Raphael growled, "Don't leave me!"

Andrea leaned toward me. "Plums."

"Listen . . ."

Andrea raised her hands, imitating holding plums the size of small coconuts, and moved them up and down. Desandra had no idea, but I was about to save her life.

"I'm sorry I'm late. There's been another murder."

"Where?"

"On the tower." I brought her up to speed. "So sorry I got held up, but I'm here now to take Desandra off your hands."

"I love you. In a purely platonic way." Andrea stuck her head into the doorway. "Honey, come on."

They escaped. I came in and sat in the chair so I could see the door and Desandra. Derek parked himself just outside.

Desandra tried talking to me. I let her go on. After I listened for twenty minutes to detailed descriptions and point-by-point comparisons of Gerardo's and Radomil's private parts, complete with size demonstrations, Desandra finally wore herself out and fell asleep. She snored a little, whistling to herself, her belly propped on a small pillow.

Derek rose and walked over to sit by me. "How can you stand her?"

"She is lonely. She's pregnant and scared. Her father is probably trying to kill her, and neither of the men she married is offering her any support. Nor can they protect her from her own father. I don't mind cutting her some slack. She isn't the worst body I've guarded."

"Who was the worst?"

"One of the state senators got on the bad side of the law and took some bribes. His accountant blew the whistle on him. His wife was convinced that state protection wasn't good enough, so they called in the Guild. I was with them for seventy-two hours. The accountant and his wife fought the entire time. There were four of us guarding him, and by the end of the fourth day, Emmanuel, he was one of the mercs, big, cut Latino guy, really calm, walked away. He just got up and left. I asked him about it later and he said it was that or he would knock their heads together just so they would shut up . . ."

A familiar revulsion rolled over me, like an unclean oily residue laced with rotten fat. A vampire. Moving in from the right.

The only person who could possibly have a vampire in this castle full of shapeshifters would be Hugh. He either piloted it himself or had some Masters of the Dead stashed someplace, but somewhere a necromancer was pulling on a vampire's strings, sending it steadily toward us, like a worm on a hook.

Trying to figure out if I could sense vampires. Nice try, Hugh.

"A good way to piss away your fee," Derek said.

The vampire came closer, its mind a pinhead of hateful magic. The urge to reach out and crush its mind like a walnut was almost too much. It was close, too close. My hand itched. I wanted to get my sword and stab it.

I couldn't leave it just sitting here. If by some miracle it wasn't Hugh, it could get into the room and kill Desandra. She would give it a run for its money, but a vampire was nature's closest equivalent to a killing machine. It had no thought, consciousness, or doubts. Like a huge predatory cockroach, it obeyed only one basic impulse: feed.

I lowered my voice. "It was mostly about self-preservation. Do you remember when you and I went to White Street? The time you got your leg ripped open?"

Derek nodded. "I remember."

Here was hoping he remembered it was a vampire who tore his leg. "I think that's how Emmanuel felt. Like something was closing on him and he just had to get out."

Derek looked at me, his brown eyes focused.

"Another ten hours or so and he might have committed a homicide." Come on, Derek. Vampire. Ten o'clock. In the wall.

"So let me guess, he got no money." Derek rolled into a crouch in a fluid move. He was only half listening to me.

The vampire was almost directly to the left of me. I felt it. It was precisely eleven feet away, which put it right at the end of the room. The wall had to be hollow, because I saw nothing.

"Nope. And the Guild slapped him with an abandonment-in-progress fee."

The vampire shifted about ten inches to the left. Derek turned slightly. He was tracking it.

"In his place I would've left, too. When you've got to go, you've got to go."

Derek shot toward the wall. He sprinted for half a second, jumped, flying through the air, and hammered a kick to the wall. The stone block cracked and fell, breaking. Before the last chunks bounced off the floor, I was up and moving. Derek shoved his hand into the hole and yanked a desiccated, ropy arm out. He twisted the wrist, locking the elbow, and I stabbed into the dark opening. Slayer sank into vampiric flesh, sliding along bone. Need to adjust the angle. Coils of smoke rose from the blade as it bit into undead tissue and began to melt it. I freed it with a sharp tug and thrust again. The point of the saber pressed against the hard ball of heart muscle and I felt the precise moment the bloodsucker's heart ruptured. It writhed on the end of my sword. Still alive, nasty bugger.