Aldric just smiled. His street clothes should have looked comically weird against the black, unearthly hellhest, but the old man looked completely at ease on its back, like he’d been riding horses since birth. I recognized the witch flanking him on his left. It was Petra Corbett, her spine perfectly straight as she smirked down at me from her horse. I managed not to spit at her, but it was a close thing. “Why would I do that?” Aldric said coolly. “Because of the connard?” He gestured at me. Jesse’s hands curled into fists, and I had the impression that I’d been insulted.
“If you want me to be human, you’ll have to be as well,” Aldric continued. “Le anneleur or no, my Hunt can decimate your pathetic numbers. And if she dies, the Hunt returns. No matter what you do, the spell will last until sunrise.”
Dashiell said something back, but I had closed my eyes again, trying to figure out the source of that extra pulse of magic in my radius. So I never saw Aldric’s mount sidle a little to his left, making room for a rider in the back of the pack, holding a handgun. I did hear Jesse scream, “Scarlett, down!” . . . but not before the rider pulled the trigger.
Chapter 45
Jesse had argued with Dashiell for a long time about the gun thing.
The Luparii had showed before that they were willing to use modern weapons, so Jesse’s feeling was that they should be prepared to raise guns the moment Scarlett turned them human. But Dashiell was old-school enough to think firearms didn’t have a place in the Old World, and he didn’t want to be the first one to break that unspoken rule.
“Why does it matter?” Jesse had countered, back at the mansion. “They came to your town and are planning to kill your people. Who cares about archaic rules?”
“It matters,” Dashiell had insisted. “Their whole objective is to come here and prove that our previous resistance was a fluke, and they can exterminate us whenever they want. People are watching how we handle them. If we resist with honor—or what passes for honor in the Old World—it matters to people. And if they beat us dishonorably, that matters as well.”
Jesse kind of thought it was bullshit, but they didn’t have enough time to keep arguing about it. They’d agreed that Jesse would bring guns, but he wouldn’t take the first shot.
Jesse was really regretting that compromise when one of the Luparii witches shot Scarlett in the chest.
He was flanking her when she fell, and he managed to half-catch, half-lower her to the ground so she didn’t hit her head. Shadow immediately began nosing at Scarlett, checking that there wasn’t any blood and the bulletproof jacket had done its job. Jesse said a silent prayer of thanks that the werewolves and Shadow had taken out the Luparii’s snipers at Bronson Caves. If they had been with the Wild Hunt, they could have killed Scarlett with a head shot.
Jesse really wanted to yell at Dashiell for his boneheaded “resist with honor” plan, but after making sure Scarlett was alive, the cardinal vampire had run straight into the fray.
The gunshot was a signal to the rest of the LA community, too. Dashiell had never really thought talking to the Luparii would get them anywhere, but he’d suggested using it as a cover, so their own people could circle around to the back of the Wild Hunt’s group undetected. Now the Luparii group was surrounded. Several of them tried to run out of Scarlett’s radius, likely hoping to become the Furious Host once more, or at least circle around the LA people, but the sight of the snarling werewolves patrolling the edges kept them where they were. These people were afraid of werewolves.
Most of the LA’s vampires and witches surged forward to clash with the Luparii—though a few of the physically weaker witches backed away under the bridge. Jesse couldn’t see the whole battle, but Dashiell was currently just a little ways in front of him, dodging Aldric’s sword as he tried to pull the Luparii leader off his mount without being struck by the hellhest’s terrible hooves. The beast—it was really the only term for it—seemed sort of confused, like it suddenly couldn’t remember what it was doing, but Aldric was spurring it on.
“Scar?” Jesse said, looking back down at her. “I know that hurt, but are you okay?”
She didn’t answer him. Her eyes were open but unfocused, like she was struggling to concentrate on something. He figured it had to do with her radius and the Luparii and stopped trying to get her to talk. She probably couldn’t hear him anyway: there were a number of people shooting guns on both sides. Several of Kirsten’s people were down, but the Wild Hunt witches must have been wearing Kevlar, too, which just seemed . . . unfair. Jesse kept his head down and made sure his body was between Scarlett and the gunfire.
Then Shadow suddenly sprinted away from his side.
She had been glued to Scarlett’s prone form, but when Jesse looked up, he realized that three of the bargests had broken off from the fight and were coming toward them in a triangle formation. All around him, the Los Angeles Old World was fighting the Wild Hunt, but Aldric had likely told these animals to focus on Scarlett. If she died, LA would fall.
Jesse helped Scarlett lay down on the ground and stood up, pulling out his Glock. He knew from experience with Shadow that gunshots couldn’t really hurt the three snarling bargests, but they would heal more slowly in Scarlett’s radius, and he could at least slow them down and scream for help.
As a cop, Jesse had broken up two different dogfights, and he wasn’t eager to see the bargest version. The closer they got, the more Jesse’s hopes sank. Each of the new animals had a good fifty pounds on Shadow, and there were three of them. Still, Shadow raced toward them, obviously determined to meet them as far away from Scarlett as possible.
He expected them to start circling each other like any other big dogs, with added power and healing, but instead Shadow charged straight at the lead bargest’s front leg. Jesse didn’t even see the attack so much as hear the leg snap. The new bargest snarled, but Shadow was already attacking another leg.
Only then did Jesse realize what Shadow had figured out: the new bargests were obviously well trained, but they moved with hesitance, like they weren’t quite used to their new speed or strength. Shadow was experienced, and she was taking advantage.
As she snapped a third leg on the lead dog, one of the flanking bargests closed her teeth around Shadow’s neck, which would have been a great strike if Shadow’s skin hadn’t been impenetrable. By the time the second bargest realized it couldn’t rip out Shadow’s throat, she had turned, somehow managing to catch and rip out the second bargest’s tongue.
Oof. Apparently those weren’t invulnerable.
Jesse winced, but he couldn’t look away. The second bargest yelped, pawing at her mouth, and the third approached Shadow more warily. Shadow planted all four feet and snarled, a deafening sound—and then the third bargest completely shocked Jesse by flipping over on its back, showing its belly.
Slowly, the two injured bargests did the same, showing submission to Shadow, who began stalking around them in a circle, snapping her jaws. It was like watching an angry teacher trying to discipline her students in the middle of a hurricane. Finally, Shadow backed up—and two of the three bargests stood up and followed her. The bargest who’d led them before was still healing two broken legs, but it rolled onto its stomach and held its head in submission.
Jesse choked out a laugh. Shadow had just taken over a pack of bargests.
But there were two still missing. He looked around. The gunfire had ended, and the Los Angeles group within Scarlett’s radius were now fighting hand to hand with the members of the Wild Hunt, led by Kirsten and Hayne. At first it’d been chaotic, but now they were clearly focused on a single objective: getting the Luparii off their hellhest. Eight of the riders were already down, and five of those were clearly dead on the concrete riverbed, with little streams of black-looking blood trickling toward the tiny channel of sluggish water. The remaining three witches on the ground had abandoned their guns and were fighting with swords and fists.
Jesse saw that a half-dozen of Kirsten’s witches were focused on the riderless hellhest, who seemed disoriented and confused. Several of them were reacting violently, but a few of the witches must have been horse lovers, because Jesse saw a couple of women standing in front of one of the beasts with her hands up, talking in soothing tones.