Shadow Rites

Tonight there were six steel mesh cages, like small jail cells. Each made of woven steel strands, making the walls and floors of the cages pliable but strong. In the bottom of each cage was a stainless steel, traylike bottom. The edges of the trays were cupped to hold whatever the chief suckhead wanted to put in it—mixed blood to speed healing, some newspapers to catch droppings, bird kibble, whatever. For now, there were only two occupied cages, one imprisoning Ming of Mearkanis, who was sleeping on the filthy foam mattress that had been in the transport coffin, and swaddled in a mass of linens and an electric blanket. To say the former clan Blood Master stank was an understatement, but I had to guess that sleep was more important than a shower.

At the door to her sister’s cage stood Ming Zhane, the Blood Master of Clan Glass in Knoxville, not breathing, heart not beating, something my kind can hear. She was doing that motionless, more-immobile-than-a-marble-headstone thing vamps do when they aren’t trying to ape human. I had been around vamps for a long time, but it still unnerved me.

Ming of Glass was wearing black from head to toe, some kind of tone-on-tone-striped, silky fabric pants and a Mao jacket. Her black hair was up in a tight bun and her claws were out, suggesting that she was close to vamping out. She was holding her own wrist and when I caught a whiff of fresh vamp blood, I knew that she had fed her sister. I stayed at the door to give the Mings some privacy.

The room’s other occupant was Adrianna, my nemesis and a vamp I had killed several times. Leo kept bringing her back to undeath, and while I didn’t understand it, I figured he had his reasons and I’d figure them out about ten seconds before Adrianna tried to kill me again.

The last time I’d seen the blue-eyed, nutso vamp, she was an unbreathing, lifeless, naked body lying in mixed vamp blood like something a chef was about to barbecue. At the time she had a hole in her head made by a silver stake, and gray matter had been seeping from the head wound. A horror movie trope. Now she was sitting on a beanbag-style cushion, her head appeared healed, and she was fully dressed, wearing Lycra yoga pants and a stretchy top, her feet in soft fuzzy slippers. Her scarlet hair was up in a French twist and she was wearing makeup, something sparkly like mica on her cheeks, mascara, and coral lipstick. She looked fantastic, but her blue eyes were still mad as a hatter, and she laughed as if she found me amusing and a bit silly, like a younger sister who needed to grow up.

I turned my back on her as I stepped into the room. Adrianna was more dangerous than an atomic bomb and no way was I giving her any kind of attention until Leo allowed me to behead her. Even he couldn’t bring a vamp back from that.

“Jane Yellowrock,” Ming Zhane of Glass said, without turning, knowing me by my scent from when we met in Knoxville. From when I rescued her scion from a group of cultists.

“Yes, ma’am?” I took three steps inside, my shoes loud on the smooth floor, but I kept my distance from the vamps. The mixed scents told me that Ming of Glass was emotional, and no way was I getting closer unless I had to.

“You will find the persons who did this to my sister,” she said, her tone so low it was hard to hear, even with me drawing on Beast’s hearing. “You will bring them to me. Do you understand?” It wasn’t a question. It was more in the nature of a threat. And I didn’t work for either of the Mings, I worked for Leo, so it wasn’t as if I could agree to her orders. Beside me, Eli drew two vamp-killers, not trying to hide the sound of steel-edged blades leaving leather sheaths. Someone stepped into the lair behind my partner and I knew it was Cai, Ming Zhane’s primo and Enforcer, without even turning. I lifted a single finger to Eli, knowing he would understand the cautionary gesture. But I had waited too long to answer and had been unintentionally rude. Ming Zhane was turning her head to me, a slow, controlled swivel like a doll’s head, but too far, inhumanly too far. Her eyes were vamped out, though her fangs were still in place. I had a chance to fix this. One.

“Blood Master Ming—” I started.

From the open doorway Leo said, “Jane will bring the culprits to me.” Ming whipped her entire body to him, vamping out so fast I missed it altogether. Leo didn’t seem distressed by her emotional reaction or her three-inch-long fangs, however, stepping in behind me, saying, “Together we will decide their fates, my old friend, you and I. Together we will mete out justice. Allies, as always.”

Ming’s shoulders, which were hunching up under her black jacket, halted their rise. A moment later she said, “You will not withhold from me the right to vengeance.”

“No. I will glory with you in vengeance against our enemies. Together, in the way of the Vampira Carta, by rule of law. As always. But for now, come, you and your blood-servant. You scent of hunger and blood loss and your sister sleeps.”

Ming seemed to be on the verge of refusal, but after an interminable time, her shoulders drooped and her fangs schincked back into her mouth. Almost visibly, she pulled the power and dignity of her Blood Master status around her and said, “The hospitality of the Master of the City of New Orleans has always been most exemplary.” She gave Leo a small bow, her elegant and perfect face a total contrast to her sister’s cadaverous one. “I am honored.”

“No, it is my clan that is honored,” Leo said. “Come. I have a small repast set aside for you, one who has been known to bring healing to the long-chained.”

“Ahhhh,” Ming said. “I have long desired to taste of this Mithran scion. My master,” she said to Leo, “will the Mithran, Amy Lynn Brown, be offered to my sister as well?”