Faith Hunter - Death's Rival

The vampire priestess’ magic was cold, like the grave, heavy and cloying. It smelled of old, spoiled blood and despair and ancient pain. I’d felt it before and the weight of it made de Allyon’s power feel minor, like the sting of static electricity when measured against being struck by a lightning bolt. Nothing by comparison. I rubbed my upper arms. I walked from the bayou bank to the covered area, seeing Bruiser and Rick standing close together talking. Seeing the drivers, all human, standing at the cars and trucks. The Tequila Boys, looking vigilant.

I found Wrassler’s eyes on me and I lifted a hand, palm up, questioning. He shook his head. Nothing yet. Katie was still a prisoner; Alex and the Vodka Boys were still searching. He tossed me my go-bag from the car, and I caught it one handed.

“The contestants will remove their weapons,” Sabina said. It was a command, and I felt the urge, the need , to comply. I’d gone to a lot of trouble to look like this; it was a shame to ruin it. But I stepped to a table at the far side of the pavilion and unstrapped the harness for the M4, laying it on the surface. Started to pull guns, ejecting the magazines and the rounds in the chambers, and laying them beside the shotgun. The long knives followed, while I thought about the gun in my hair. I could get it out, but I’d rather no one know it was ever there, so timing was important. When Jude pulled out a knife with a jewel-encrusted handle, attracting the attention of the vamps, I lifted the braid and eased the tiny gun out, setting it with the .38 from my boot. The short-bladed throwing knives followed, then the stakes. My protective collars. My crosses in the tiny lead-lined pouch that was sewn into my pants. Rather than causing an incident, I ripped the pouch out. Leo’s designer would be livid, and if I survived, I’d suffer for this one.

Across the way, the Big Guy was now weaponless—except for the muscles, teeth, talons, and his skills, which I expected were enough all on their own—and was wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt, boots, and a happy, fanged grin. I had the feeling that if he caught me first, he was going to play with me for a while before killing me. And that play wouldn’t involve kiddie games and coloring books.

I unbuttoned the tight vest, placed it by the guns, and pulled the tee over my head, the boots off my feet. My skin pebbled in the icy air. I slid a pair of flip-flops onto my feet, leaving the go-bag on the table. When I was done, I was wearing only pants, undies, jogging bra, flip-flops, my necklace, and the contact lenses. The vamps were all looking at me now, taking in the bare skin, my coppery coloring bleached out by the night and the park lights, my scent whipped away by the wind. My edge, I thought. Time to see if I can do this .

I reached up and started to unbraid my hair, moving slowly, letting them look. I took measured steps, circling the Peristyle with slow precision. When I reached a stone lion, I let my hands flow across the mane, the stone cool and rough on my fingers. I bent my body across the lion and scraped with my gold nugget so I could find my way back to this spot, even if I lost myself in Beast.

I lifted my hands back to my hair, and it danced in the breeze like Medusa’s snakes as I unbraided it, whirling and whipping in the wind. My black eyes stared the vamps down, calm and dispassionate. My half-bound hair whipped across the lion, and I could feel the power of the vamps’ combined gazes, watching me. I had no magic of my own except to shift form, but if I survived, I wanted these vamps to remember me, maybe with something like fear. That was a magic all its own.

Sabina said, “Time?”

De Allyon’s heir said, “Ten twenty-five.”

Sabina looked back and forth between the contestants as I worked on my hair and watched the Big Guy Vamp I was going to have to kill. I didn’t want to. I really had no desire to kill him. But I would have no choice. Literally, it was him or me. My hair whipped in the rising breeze, flowing like black snakes in a slow current. Big Guy was watching me, staring at the hair-handle I was providing him, confident to the point of stupidity, which I wanted to encourage. I grinned at him and shook out my hair, timing it perfectly. “Catch me, catch me, if you can,” I sang out, “you big, bumbling buffoon.”

“Begin,” Sabina said.

Before the word was half-formed, Beast slammed her speed into me and I took off, racing like the anxious wind, into the night. Beast’s sight took over, turning the world bright and silvery. I was into the shadows before anyone saw me move. I ripped off the bra, the pants and panties, running between trees, the concrete path bruising my soles through the flip-flops.

I couldn’t hear the Big Guy behind me. Vamps are silent predators, even at full speed. I was betting everything on him wanting to play cat and mouse with me, hunt me slowly, thinking to wear me out physically and then drain me painfully, not attack and kill fast. I turned sharply left and raced along a rabbit path, moving hard crosswind now, hoping the cold breeze would carry my scent away from the pursuing vamp.

I reached up and wrapped one fist around the mountain lion tooth. I’m gonna need a fast shift, Beast.

Will hurt.

Yeah. It will. Do it anyway. As I ran, I let my mind drop into the gray place of the change, the place where skinwalker magics rested. The place of the snake that rests at the heart of all beings. I rounded into another narrow path and dove into the brush, dropped to my belly, and crawled deep into the scrub. Now, I thought.

Beast rushed up at me, fierce and furious, killing teeth bared. I will be big, she thought.

No! There’s no stone to draw mass from! Pain took me, ripping down my spine like dozens of minuscule blades, like scalpels flaying my flesh from my body.

Stone lions, she thought back, victory in her tone.

No! I shouted at her. They’re not stone! They’re concrete! They may have organic matter in them!

I will be big!

In the distance I heard the sound of exploding concrete and the screams of vampires as shards of broken lion shattered over them. Then the gray place of the change took me.

I lay in the trees and small plants, panting. Painpainpain was in bones and flesh. Even pelt hurt with pain of change. But I was big. Not as big as I wanted, but as big as the snake at the heart of the stone tooth would allow. Maybe big enough. Maybe. I stood and looked back at my body, seeing mass and muscle. Yessss. Big . Maybe big as female African lion. Maybe big as rhino or bison. Did not know for sure.

Was less hungry than usual. Stomach was empty, but did not cramp. From taking mass from not-stone lion? Jane had not expected that. I huffed in pleasure. Beast was smart to hide many things from Jane. Jane was like kit, to be protected. Shook head and felt Jane necklace, tight on big-Beast neck. Was big!

I pushed Jane clothes into the dark and nudged the contact lenses she had worn. They all smelled of Jane—skinwalker smell. I listened. In the distance, I heard vampire-prey stumbling closer, taking narrow path, path too small for his body. Stupid prey, but big. Had wanted to hunt big prey for a long time. I stretched through spine and chest and down legs. I liked being big. I trotted into path, looking for place to hide. To hunt. Ambush hunt. Easy hunt, except for killing big prey. Killing big prey was hard, dangerous work.

Ear tabs flicking, Beast kept track of stupid big prey, while looking up and up, into trees. Was big now. Needed bigger branch to ambush from. Saw one. Low enough to ground to leap into, high enough from ground to drop down from. Lifted snout into air, feeling wind in pelt, thinking about scent in wind . Yesss. Good limb for ambush. Good limb of tree, hanging over narrow path Jane had taken.