There was the undying heart in the hands of the NOLA witch coven. Wherever that was. I figured I could leave that to Eli.
I left the way I came in, but this time there was only Wrassler waiting. I stopped and shook his hand. He hugged me. I hugged back. Silent. Tears in his eyes. I stepped back and asked, “Del?”
Wrassler shook his head. “Her mother took her back to the mountains. She was buried there, in the family plot.”
I blinked away the tears. “Jodi? Did she ever say yes?”
Wrassler beamed. “We’re planning a June wedding.”
“Congratulations!” I hugged him hard. Holding him close, so I couldn’t see his face, I asked, “Leo?”
“Buried in the Pellissier mausoleum, beneath the new moon, with the blood of his enemies poured upon him, with the potion of blood he created from the Caruso vial. Buried with all honors and glory due to his name.” Wrassler stopped, breathed in slowly. “He didn’t rise with the full moon.”
My heart clenched. But . . . Leo had given part of himself to me when I tasted his blood. I wondered what would happen if . . . I reached out with my mind, with my skinwalker magic, calling to him. Leo? Are you there?
But there was nothing. No answer. Not even a hint of a whisper of a breath of undeath. I shook my head and left HQ, Eli on my heels.
I heard the lock clack closed as I got into the car. Laid back my head.
Eli drove me to my freebie house. My house. My first home ever. I had the deed. I owned it outright. A fierce sense of possession washed over me. Then it rolled away like the surf on the island. I got out of the SUV and went inside. Alex rushed up and hugged me. I hugged him back, as if memorizing the way he felt against me, all bone and muscle and inches taller than when we first met. Eli gestured to him and the Kid stepped back.
“We’ll catch up after dinner,” Alex said. “I’m in the middle of security for your new clan home.” I nodded and he stepped away.
Dropping off my gear, I walked around the house looking things over. Eli stood in the middle of the living room, watching, waiting. He said nothing, as I noticed the missing wall and the exposed fireplace. I could smell paint and fresh building materials.
I’d asked him once to see if he could find and restore the original fireplaces. This was my answer. While I hid on the island, he had found one, uncovered it, and repaired it, with a ceramic surround, a bronze facing, and a heavy Victorian-style mantel carved with curlicues and fleurs-de-lis. Beautifully restored. It was on the small wall between living room and kitchen. I’d never have thought about a fireplace there. I checked out the kitchen to see that we now had a copper farmhouse sink and commercial fridge, things Eli had been wanting. I checked out the laundry, which was unchanged, and followed him up the stairs. He had refinished the bathrooms, with sleek quartz countertops and new fixtures and fancy tile. My partner had been busy. I smiled at him to show I liked it.
A smile lit up his face and he led me up the new narrow staircase to the third floor.
It was amazing. The central space was vaulted and wood floored. The bedrooms in back—office spaces to make the housing and insurance companies happy—were finished. The bathroom was a tiny cubicle done up in marble and antique ceramic tiles.
I finally spoke. “This is gorgeous.”
Eli nodded, his face full of compassion. “Babe.”
I held up my hand and shook my head.
“But—”
I shook my head again. “Edmund?” I asked. Ed. Leo’s heir. The vamp primo of the Dark Queen. Complicated. Just the way Leo wanted it.
“In Paris,” Eli said. “As your emissary. Setting up a cabinet, establishing your power, sending out edicts in your name.”
“Good. It’ll be easy for him to step in when I abdicate.” I walked away and down the stairs. Behind me I heard Eli talking on his cell, his tone frustrated.
I spent the day in my bedroom, moving money around, writing e-mails and letters—on real paper with a pen. Predominantly my abdication as emperor of the EuroVamps, dated to the coming full moon. Eddie Boy could have it. Sending texts. Appointing people to positions of power. Choosing two vamps as temporary heirs to the European Mithrans—Grégoire as heir, and Katherine as second heir. Seemed simple enough. If they didn’t abdicate. Granting Ming of Glass status as Master of the City of Knoxville. Granting Lincoln Shaddock Master of the City of Asheville. This made sure Amy Lynn Brown was safe, in Clan Shaddock, protected by her now-powerful Blood Master. Trying to figure out how to ensure that Leo’s newest werelion cub fosters were safe, but not sure how to do that. I ended up leaving that for Edmund to determine.
I also appointed the Youngers as coheirs of Clan Yellowrock. Gave them money and power to protect Molly and Big Evan and my godchildren.
Kitssss, Beast whispered before falling silent again. All Beast’s kitssss. She had been oddly uncommunicative since I returned to my human form. I didn’t know what her relative silence meant, but she wasn’t missing; she was still there inside with me, so I was okay with her silence.
Rereading the will I had signed months ago, a will that left trusts for my godchildren, for Molly and Evan, for the Youngers. Leaving everything else to the heirs of Clan Yellowrock. I wasn’t sure the office of Dark Queen could be passed on, but if it could, it would go to the entire NOLA witch coven. I left Bruiser all my magical items and Bitsa—the things that held me here and gave me power, and the one thing that spoke to me of freedom, my panhead bastard Harley.
I sent a letter of intent to the B-twins, the Robere brothers, who were the lawyers of the NOLA vamps, to sue Raymond Micheika, the leader of all the weres on earth (and especially the leader of the African weres, the most politically powerful group). In the letter I accused Raymond of treachery against Americans, on American soil. I told the Roberes to proceed with legal papers in my name, with any charges and grievances they could think of, and asked them to send a copy of the paperwork to whatever legal department in the U.S. government would be most effective at keeping Raymond off U.S. soil. I signed it, the Dark Queen of the Mithrans and the Blood Master of Clan Yellowrock of New Orleans. I even signed papers for the house that had once been Rousseau Clan Home. It was big enough to be the Clan Home of Clan Yellowrock, the official clan residence, and it was actually two full-sized homes in one, perfect for clan business. And it had a pool. I toured a few more houses online while I was at it, and bought two more. Money wasn’t a problem. Not now. Not ever again. I talked to Bruiser on the phone, loving the sound of his voice, loving the fact that he loved me. His last words were, “Ed took the Learjet, so I’m flying commercial. I’ll be back from New York on the red-eye. Don’t wait up. I’ll crawl in beside you.”
“I won’t wait up,” I promised.
I checked the news for the last weeks to discover that there had been a number of grisly deaths on the full moon—homeless men slashed to death with knives, throats slit. The grindys had been at work, killing people bitten by the rogue wolves, the new, fledgling werewolves the rogue pack had created. The news of the insane serial killer had hit the airwaves like a tsunami and then disappeared when the killings stopped. If the dead had been wealthy, the press would still be going nuts over it, but since they were poor and largely unidentified, the press had drifted quickly to other stories. Typical, I thought cynically. As well as I could tell, the rogue pack were all dead too. I wasn’t sure why the grindys didn’t kill all the werewolves and be done with it rather than letting the Bighorn pack survive and thrive. Maybe it was the fact that they had a leader and they didn’t spread the were-taint. Maybe something else.
While I worked I packed. Quietly. Surreptitiously. Weeding through the things I now owned. Finding that I ended up with just enough to fit in Bitsa’s saddlebags, which, oddly enough, was mostly just the clothes, boots, and weapons I used to travel with and a few of the smaller magical trinkets I wanted to keep.
An hour before dusk, I walked out of my room and through the house, hearing Alex in the shower, smelling roast in the oven. I eased outside. I was weaponed up. Dressed for the road and the cold weather. Riding leathers. Boots. I walked across the side porch.
Ed’s fancy car was gone, just like so many things. I loaded Bitsa’s saddlebags. Opened the wrought-iron side gate with its fleur-de-lis scrollwork at the top. Straddled my bike. Sat there, staring out through the gate.