Black Arts: A Jane Yellowrock Novel (38 page)

Though I had to think that Leo had put all that together already and was using me to get rid of Shoffru for him. I shook that thought away and went on. “Shoffru is using the people closest to me to get the diamond.” I closed my eyes. “Del? Wake Leo up. Tell him that I’ll give Shoffru anything he wants to keep them safe. Understand?”

“Not really,” Del said, sounding all prim, proper, and lawyerly again, “but I think from your tone that Leo will understand perfectly. I don’t have the Damours’ estate addresses at my fingertips. I’m still trying to get settled here and learn my way around. But I’ll send you the addresses and coordinates of the lairs the moment I get them, along with the addresses of any locales where Jack Shoffru has been seen or might lair.”

It could be too little too late, but it was a start to making sense of the vamp-into-dust problem, the missing Bliss and Rachael problem, and finding Molly. I forced a smile, my lips feeling stiff and thin as I focused on Jodi. “Thanks. I’ll keep you informed.”

“Yeah. You better,” she said. “And if humans are in danger in my city, you let me in on the action. Understood?”

I nodded. I understood perfectly. And I had no intention of obeying her. I wouldn’t be calling in any law enforcement until I had done what needed doing, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I was learning to control my big mouth.

I hung up the phone and looked at my pals. The Kid’s head was still bowed over the tablet, a smear of black and gold visible on the screen, oddly familiar. I pushed myself to my feet and said to Jodi and Eli, “I need to talk to Bruiser and Big Evan. And then we’re going to find and rescue Molly and Shiloh Everhart Stone, the newest vamp in New Orleans. And probably Bliss and Rachael too.”

I had finally understood what was going on. But more important, I had finally understood what I was, who I was. I was War Woman. And this was my fight.

CHAPTER 19

Beast’s Angel Tolded Me So

My bike was on the back porch, bent, busted, and twisted. Paint was scored off to reveal asphalt-scraped metal beneath, like the worst case of road rash in Harley history. The front wheel was a goner. It looked as if I had hit the curb head-on. The body was bent, as if I’d wrapped it around a light pole. Oil and gas dripped with a silent splat, leaking out like blood, to pool on the cardboard someone had placed beneath, like a blood-soaked mattress on a death bed. My bike smelled like petroleum products and burned rubber and defeat.

The Kid patted my shoulder and went inside, leaving Eli behind with me, his thumbs in his jeans pockets. Silent.

I squatted and placed a hand on her gas tank. Her once-smooth skin felt rough under my fingertips, cold. The mountain lion claws painted on the gas tank were mangled. The bike was . . . broken. “Oh, Bitsa. I am so sorry,” I whispered.

“We can ship her to North Carolina and get the original mechanic to work on her,” Eli said softly behind me. “You told me he’s a genius.”

“He’s like a Zen Harley master,” I said, hearing the grief and acceptance in my voice. “Nobody works with bikes like him. Yeah, he can fix her. Eventually. If I get you his address, can you handle the shipping?”

“Yep.”

I stood. “Okay.” I looked from my broken bike to Eli and felt some of the heaviness lift off me. “You’re awfully nice for a big bad fighting machine.”

“Let’s keep that between us, okay, Legs?” He gave the twitch of a smile that was his version of a belly laugh. “I got a rep to maintain with Uncle Sam’s second finest.”

I figured he meant Derek and his Marines cohorts. “Deal. Thanks.”

“Your fancy new boots are already back at vamp HQ. Adelaide is returning them to the company for repair or replacement. Your ruined clothes are in your room. And it’s no wonder you’re single. No lace, no black silk. I gotta tell you. I was terribly disappointed.”

“That breaks my heart.
Not
.” I shrugged. “I’m kinda hard on clothes,” I admitted.

“Yeah. I noticed. Go see George. He was in pretty bad shape too, maybe worse than your plain cotton undies, but I think
he’ll
survive.” Eli opened the door and held it for me, grinning enough to actually show some teeth. “For next Christmas, I’m buying you some decent underwear.”

“You mean indecent underwear.”

“You know me so well,” Eli chuckled, the sound filling the yard with amusement. I left him on the porch and entered the house.

• • •

I stood, looking down at Bruiser, sleeping on my couch. He was scarred, pale, and looked like death warmed over, but he was alive, breathing evenly, his eyes moving in REM sleep, Angie Baby sitting next to him, holding his hand. “He’s gonna be okay, Aunt Jane,” she said, her face solemn and encouraging, nodding like an adult health-care worker, trying to assure a family that a loved one was healing. “He’s hurt but he’s gettin’ better. Daddy played his flute for him, and I’m helpin’ make him better too. Can you see?”

She took my hand and instantly I could. I could see healing energies moving like a stream reflecting back a starry black sky, from Angie’s fingers into Bruiser. The stream was magic, Angelina’s magic. Magic she shouldn’t even have yet, let alone be able to use. “Angie,” I asked, “does your daddy know you’re healing Bruiser?”

“No, ma’am.” She shook her head, red-blond curls swinging. “Don’t tell him, okay? Him and Mommy’s both scared of my magic.”

Ohhh. This isn’t good.
I let myself slide to the floor beside Angie. “They’re not scared of you, Angie. They’re not scared of your magic. They just want you to grow up some before you use it, so you don’t make mistakes and get hurt or hurt someone else.”

“And so the special policemen don’t come and take me away,” she added solemnly. “I heard them talking a bunch a times. The policemen will take me away from them if they find out I got my magic before I’m all growed up. But Uncle Ricky Bo knows and he isn’t taking me away.”

“Oh . . . Angie.” I took her free hand in mine and scooted closer on the floor. How was I going to fix this? “It’s just not fair for you to have to deal with all this when you are so little. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not little anymore, Aunt Jane. I’m seven years old now. I had a birthday party and everything, but you didn’t come to it. Why didn’t you come to my birthday party?”

I laughed through my nose, silently, knowing I was wrapped around Angie Baby’s finger and she was using that to her advantage. “Your mama was still mad at me. I bought you a present, though. I sent it to you.”

“Ka Nvista’s new dress.” She nodded. “It was pretty. I left it at home. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Baby. Not a thing. But for now, I want you to stop trying to heal Bruiser, okay? And stop using your magic when you don’t absolutely have to.”

Angie tilted her in perplexity, her eyebrows drawing together. “But people need me, Aunt Jane. I’m supposed to help. It’s why I’m here. Beast’s angel tolded me so.”

Beast’s angel? Hayyel?
That interaction between the angel and the people gathered in the room in Evangelina’s house, not long before I killed the witch, had lasted all of five heartbeats. A single moment of bright light and darkest chaos, the sound of swords clashing, and the scream of darkest evil fighting a blinding, killing light. But in that single moment, the angel had done a lot of things, and I was nowhere near figuring out what all he had done or how to undo any of it.

I wanted to say,
Angie, do you know what the word
inscrutable
means? ’Cause God is inscrutable. He gave us life with no promises. And that life sometimes just slaps us silly for no reason, out of the blue, and leaves us to deal with the problems. Sink or swim.
But Angie wasn’t ready to hear all that. And how did you tell a kid that the angel who talked to her might have his own agenda and that what the angel wanted might not be the best thing for the nonangelic?

I was getting in too deep with this. I was floundering. “Ummm, the angel didn’t mean you had to do it all now,” I said softly. Yeah. That sounded good. “Aaaaand . . . um . . . the angel wants you to grow up a lot more first.”

Angie straightened her head and grinned at me. “You’re funny, Aunt Jane.” But she let go of Bruiser’s hand and the black motes of dazzling magic vanished. Relief shuddered through me like a jackhammer. Angie went on. “Mommy’s hurt. She was okay, but she’s not okay now. You gotta go help her.”

My heart crawled up my throat on pounding feet. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with her?” I asked.

“She’s got dead stuff all around her. And she’s scared. She’s talking to God and you gotta help her.”

Molly was talking to God?
Molly hadn’t really believed in God for a long time. “Okay. I’m trying really hard.” And then I grinned. “Your other birthday present? Is this.” I reached over and picked up the kitten, depositing her in Angie’s arms. “Her name is KitKit.”

Angie’s eyes went wide as saucers. “I been holding her! I love her!” She hugged the kitten close. “I always wanted a kitten for my own! Hi, KitKit! I love you already!” Angie Baby threw her arms around my neck, squishing KitKit between us. “Thank you, Aunt Jane! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I glanced up from the floor to the Kid, sitting at his table, working, and shamelessly listening in. He shook his head at me slowly, perplexed, baffled. Or maybe amazed. It
was
pretty brilliant of me.

I opened my cell and checked my e-mail to find one waiting from Del. In it were three addresses, all of them out of the city, west of the river. I dipped the cell at Alex, indicating I was sending him info. He nodded, and I hit SEND. “Directions, sat maps, anything you can get,” I said to him. “We have a couple of hours before sundown and we need to be done before nightfall.” Or Molly might not make it.

He nodded once and bent over his tablets. I caught another glimpse of black and gold graphics, dark and bold, which seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen it before, and I shrugged, pushing my way off the floor. I lifted Angie up in my arms and headed up the stairs, the kitten hot on my feet, managing the steps with clumsy determination. “So. I’m guessing that you’re supposed to be in your bed for a nap,” I said to her, “and that EJ is in his bed asleep, and your daddy’s exhausted from healing Bruiser and he’s in his bed. Would I be right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She crooked a tiny hand around my ear and whispered, “Don’t tell Daddy.” I felt a tingle of magics from her words, a compulsion that she was not supposed to know how to use.

“Stop that,” I whispered.

Angie jerked back, her eyes wide. She covered her mouth with the fingers of one hand. “You felted that?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I whispered as I reached the second-floor landing. “I
felted
it. Don’t do it again.”

“Okay. I promise.”

I squinted at her, seeing her magics recede into her fingers. “Hey, can you use that on your parents?” If Angie’s eyes had gotten wider, her eyeballs would have popped out and rolled around on the floor. “If I ever see you using that on your parents, I’ll turn you over my knee and spank the living daylights outta you.”

Angie’s mouth went as wide as her eyes. “You would hit me?”

I paused on the landing, my feet coming to a complete stop, considering my godchild and wondering just how mischievous—and how dangerous—she was and might become as she got older. In a normal voice I said, “If EJ was about to touch a hot stove, would your mama and daddy grab him and spank his bottom to keep him safe?”

“EJ wears trainer-diapers,” she said, her face going mutinous. “He wouldn’t feel it if they spanked him.”

“Don’t dodge the question, Angie.”

Her bottom lip poked out and her eyes narrowed to slits. She huffed a breath, thinking. “Mommy and Daddy would spank him.” She frowned hard. “And they would spank me for doing magics.”

“And would you deserve it for sneaking around and doing things they told you not to? Things you knew they would disapprove of?”

Angie took her arms off my shoulders and crossed them, her curls bouncing, and I was reminded of an old black-and-white movie with a little girl actress. Shirley somebody. Mutinously, as if the words were dragged out by pincers, she said, “Yes. I would deserve it.”

“I’m proud of you, Angie,” I said, letting my face soften.

“Why?”

“For taking the high road. The hard road. For being honest and for having . . . honor. Not many people in this day and age have honor.” The corners of her mouth pulled down farther, quarrelsome and confused. “And I have honor too,” I said. “Which is why, because I’m your godmother, if I see you using magics without the knowledge and permission of your family, I’ll spank you.”

Angie huffed, watching me.

I smiled fully. “I’ll spank you to keep you safe and alive, the same way I’d spank EJ to teach him about hot stoves. The way Beast would swat a kit to keep it from falling out of the den and to teach him to stay away from the mouth of the cave.”

“Spanking babies is wrong,” she stated. But she uncrossed her arms and waved them in the air in front of us. And I felt the magics that had crisscrossed in front of us and under my feet vanish. I hadn’t even noticed them until she dispersed them. I heard Big Evan roll over in bed. Angie had been keeping him asleep while she healed Bruiser.
Good heavens.
What was this child gonna be like in ten years?

“Soon I’m gonna be smart and all growed up and using my magic,” Angie said, anger darkening her face. “Damn it.”

Without even thinking about it, I swatted her. It didn’t hurt her, but it got her attention. I schooled my face to neutrality. When had my godchild started cussing? I had to talk to Molly about this.
But Molly isn’t here.
“I won’t beat you. Yes, beating kids is wrong. But now you’ll have a time-out and no movies and no dessert after dinner. Because you knew what you were doing was wrong. And you know language like that is not accepted in my house.”

Tears welled up in her gorgeous eyes, wavering and pooling. Horror and guilt welled up in me, but I swiped the kitten off the floor and into Angie’s arms, gathered the little girl and her new pet close, and carried Angie to her bed, laying her on top of the covers. Emotion made me gruff. “One-hour time-out. No dolls, no TV, no nothing but the kitten.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and I forced my voice to soften. “I love you, Angie Baby. I love you with all my heart.”