Blood in Her Veins (Nineteen Stories From the World of Jane Yellowrock) (31 page)

I opened my eyes in time to see more forms flow up the stairs led by Lucky Landry. Magics spat down his arms from his tattoos and shot out his fingertips. Blue flames whipped among the vamps and humans on the porch.

“Bogus!” I screamed. Derek turned to the witch and hit him with the butt of his shotgun. It wasn't a weapon Lucky had prepared a defense against. The witch fell like he'd been poleaxed. The forms behind him stopped and stared at their leader. And the vamps turned on them.

Beast shoved her power into me and I threw myself back and up. Taking Clermont around the neck in a sleeper hold, I shoved the vamp-killer at his neck. “Hold!” I shouted.

Everyone on the porch and steps and inside the house went still and silent. My ears buzzed with complaint. Into Clermont's ear, I said, “Thanks for knocking your kid outta the way so I didn't have to kill him. And sorry about that hospitality thing and all, but if your suckheads don't back off, I'll kill you. Understand?”

Clermont nodded slightly, the silver scorching his skin where it touched. I caught the scent of burned, dead flesh and curled my lips back against the stink. And realized that a sleeper hold was likely useless to a vamp except for immobilizing him. Good thing I'd been holding the blade.

“Derek?” I asked.

He bent over Lucky and checked his pulse and pupils. “He'll live,” Derek said, his tone unconcerned. “I mighta broke his jaw, though.”

“Margaud. Report,” I said. “Numbers?”

Slightly garbled by my earbud, I made out Margaud's words. “Vamps?
Ten I can count. Witches? Six standing. Dem was under de house, behind de pilings, and their sigs blended in widda pigs'. Sorry 'bout dat.”

Sigs. Heat signatures.
Right
. I raised my voice. “Witches, sit on the ground. Vamps, sit on the porch. Now!” When no one moved, I said into Clermont's ear, “Tell them. This gets settled one way or another, and I don't really care how. Oh, and by the way. I have Leo Pellissier's
permission
to take him your head.
In writing
.”

“Sit,” Clermont said. The vamps and their humans sat. When the witches didn't follow suit, Derek kicked one witch in the backs of the knees. He fell; the rest sat. Derek and his men went around gathering guns and blades. They made a nice pile at the base of the stairs.

When everyone was disarmed and sitting, I said to Clermont, “I stabbed one of your people with a silvered knife. If they get fed enough blood by a strong enough vamp or their master, there is a chance they'll live. Also, I fired standard ammo, but my sharpshooter used silver-plated. If it didn't pass clear through him, your idiot son might have a silver slug in his chest. Can anyone here dig that out?”

“Surgeon, I am,” Clermont said, surprising the heck outta me, “or was, long time ago. I still know how to dig out a rifle round. And my blood is strong. I can treat my people.”

“Well, good.” Which sounded lame, but it was all I had.

“You gone call dat Leo? Take my head?”

“I'd rather not. You willing to make your son act like he has some sense?”

“I am. You willing to make Lucky Landry act like he have him a brain in he head?”

“I am. I guess that means I'm letting you go now.”

“Dat be right nice. Pain in de neck, you is.”

I couldn't help it. I laughed. And so did Clermont. As he did, his fangs—which I hadn't even noticed—clicked back into the roof of his mouth on their tiny little hinges. Vamps can't laugh—a human emotion—and be vamped-out at the same time. I let him go and he bent to the vamp lying on the porch boards. Blood was a dark pool beneath her, and she was breathing with the painful rasp of a human who had traumatic lung damage and whose lungs were filling up with blood. Clermont bent over her and held his wrist to her mouth. Her fangs bit into him, and her lips
sucked like a starving baby's, a weak and desperate motion. A minute later, she reached up and grabbed his wrist, holding him to her, and her sucking increased in depth and intensity. A minute after that, Clermont peeled her away and a human man sat beside her, cradling her close so she could latch onto his neck. It was intimate and lover-like, and I turned away. Some things I just don't need to see.

The witches were sitting on the ground at the bottom of the stairs, three of them laying on hands, healing Lucky Landry. “Margaud?” I said. “We have anything or anyone else on the way or hidden with the pigs?”

“No, sir,” she said, sounding like a soldier who had just been censured by her sergeant. “Clear.”

“Derek, Clermont, Gabe, and Shauna. As soon as Lucky can think straight and Gabe has the silver out of his body, we're gonna have us a nice long talk. We have aaall night.”

•   •   •

It took two hours to heal all the injured, and while I waited I drank the tea Clermont had promised. It was a delicious, stylish, pungent black from China, described on the package as a Super Fancy Tippy Golden Flowery Orange Pekoe. Having discovered that we were fellow tea lovers, he and I talked teas while he dug the slug out of his son. It was bizarre conversation, talking about attractive, chunky, golden-tipped first flushes from various provinces in China, India, Sri Lanka, Ceylon, and other places. To a non–tea lover it was silly talk, and I caught Derek rolling his eyes once as he drank coffee passed out by a beautiful, mixed-tribe, American Indian blood-slave, one who was over a hundred years old and not above teasing the much, much,
much
younger man with sly looks and come-hither stares. Not that Derek understood that she was a slave by choice and old enough to be his great-great-grandmother. Vamps and their humans are sneaky.

Derek called Auguste and Benoît in. The brothers had been waiting in the dark to remove us in retreat or victory, either one. And then Derek, Auguste, and a vamp went to get Margaud, who didn't want to abandon her position to sit with the enemy suckheads. She put up a good verbal resistance and fired off three warning shots before I pulled out my earbud. Eventually someone took her off the air. I didn't know how Derek finally convinced Margaud into the airboat, but Derek was good-looking and
persuasive, or maybe the former military angle worked. Or maybe her brother just picked her up and tossed her on board. Don't ask, don't tell.

Near two a.m., I judged that everyone was healed and calm enough for discussion and called all the participants to the front porch. There weren't enough chairs, so Clermont made everyone but the main participants sit on the floor, equaling out one and all. There were vamps and humans and witches sitting side by side, close together, sharing floor space without bloodshed. It would have been inspiring had Clermont and I not promised utmost retribution to anyone who caused trouble.

I opened the meeting with a few vampire terms and their meanings, including the devoveo and the dolore, the insanity of freshly turned vamps and the insanity of vamps who suffered the loss of a close loved one. I explained that witches were seldom successfully turned vamp, remaining in the devoveo forever, and ended with a plea for both sides to find a way to end the rift between the races and find a way for the lovers to be together. It was a lot of words for me, with even more
mmm
s and
hmmm
s and
uh
s and
ah
s. I'm not a public speaker. Not at all. It's easier to shoot first and divide up the dead later, but maybe I was growing up.

When I was done, Clermont stood and spoke to Lucky Landry. Lucky was tied to a chair and to the porch railing, just in case, but he listened far better than I expected, maybe because Clermont opened with the words, “I tired o' this war between coonass and coonass.”

Despite himself, Lucky chuckled and looked down. He took a deep breath and said, “I tired o' it too.” He looked at his daughter, sitting on the floor, hand in hand with Gabe, love and determination in her eyes. “You want dis suck— You want dis vampire? You love him for real?”

“I do,” Shauna said. Her chin came up defiantly. “And I'm carrying his baby.”

Lucky pulled in a breath and the flames danced along his bound arms.

“I love him, Daddy. If you hurt him, I'll never forgive you. Not. Ever. And I'll spend the rest of my life keeping your grandchild away from you.”

Lucky looked at me. “Suc— Vampires can have babies like human and witch do? Despite we different races? Dem babies not be mule?”

“So far as I know, vamps can have babies, though it's very, very rare. Whether the children are sterile I don't know.”

Clermont said, “Dem babies not easy to have in de human way.
Vampires treasure dem few. Dey can have babies of dere own, and dey special to us. Special power dey all has. Dis be first vampire-and-witch baby we have. Make him better and more special, I'm thinking.”

Lucky studied his daughter. “He say
he
. You carrying my first grandson, for real?”

Shauna placed a hand on her belly. “I don't know how I know, but I know. All you other children has girls, so yes, dis boy be your first. And we already named him.” She looked at Gabe and he lifted their fisted hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers gently. Everyone on the porch said, or had to restrain, a soft, “Awwww” of delight.

“We name our baby by family name and alphabet,” Gabe said, which confused me until they went on.

“Hem be Clermont Jérôme Landry Doucette,” Shauna said, “and we call him Clerjer.” It came out
Clarshar
, and it sounded pretty on her tongue.

Laundry looked at Clermont and said, “Why not JerCler?”

“Dat not alphabet,” the vampire said, deadpan.

Both men laughed softly, measuring one another.

“What we can do to stop killin' and killin'?” Lucky asked.

“Baptize dis baby in church,” Clermont said. And everyone, even the vamps, took a deep, shocked breath. “Marry dem two in front o' de church first, o' course.”

Lucky nodded slowly. “Vampire can go in de church?”

“Not so much. But in de yard, yeah, we can do dat. You talk to de priest first, make hem see reason.”

“If he don' see reason, den dey can marry in my church,” a voice said from the far reaches of the porch. “I marry dem. No need for no priest.”

“Who dat is?” Lucky asked.

A skinny man stood at the back, his face resolute, if pale.

“Preacher Michael? You a blood-slave to dese suckheads?” Lucky said, horror in his voice.

“Dey heal me a cancer wid dey blood. It take a lot o' blood, and many month o' time,” Preacher Michael said. “I give back to dem when dey need.”

Lucky made a Gaelic-sounding snort. “Well, I be dam—uh, I be a monkey's uncle.”

“And a grandfather,” Shauna said.

A goofy smile lit Lucky's face. He looked at his erstwhile enemy again
and pursed his lips to make the smile less obvious. “But how you keep my girl not crazy?”

Clermont said, “Blood-kin, we call dem. Gabe make her blood-kin. She live mebbe two hundred years. She have good long life, here wid my son and wid us, and in town wid you and yours.” He held out his hand and said, “Dat a good enough start for me. Dat good start for you?”

Lucky Landry slapped his hand into Clermont's and the men shook. “Dat a start. But first ting is, dem two been living in sin. Dey gets marry tonight.”

“Done, my brother. How about now and here? Brother Michael can marry dem in eyes of de church and God and dem get license later what for de state.”

Lucky started to speak and stopped, his mouth open. After a long pause he said, “My wife kill me, she not here. . . . Shauna's sisters too. No. Dem two gets marry
tomorrow
night, in town at church. Yes?”

“I say yes,” Clermont said, the men's hands still clasped.

“Don't I get a say?” Shauna demanded.

“No!” both men stated. And everyone on the porch laughed.

•   •   •

Twenty-four hours later, the first vampire–witch marriage in Bayou Oiseau took place in the yard of the Catholic church. A second ceremony followed in the churchyard of the Pentecostal Holiness, One God, King James Church. In both ceremonies, Shauna was wearing her mother's wedding dress, a creamy satin, full-skirted, hooped gown with puffy sleeves. With it she wore a hat shaped a bit like a satin cowboy hat with a pouf of veil on top. She looked stunning, glowing with happiness. Gabe wore a black tuxedo, his long hair in braids and love in his eyes. Just before the start of the first ceremony, he met his bride in the back of church with two dozen roses to carry down the aisle. As he gave them to her he said, “Dese here roses are twelve red and twelve white. Together dem symbol of union between vampire and witch. Every single rose I done clip off its thorn, to symbolize the way I protect you from all harm. Dis for my whole undead life.” There wasn't a dry eye in the churchyard.

To finish the night off properly, Leo Pellissier, Master of the City of New Orleans and most of the Southeast, gave his blessing over my cell phone, in the yard of the Pentecostal church. Everyone in Bayou Oiseau
heard it, and heard his invitation to Clermont to come to New Orleans and parley as equals once the baby was born.

Clermont looked at me when the phone call was done and said, “You do dis thing? Set up dis parley?”

I shrugged, smiled, and walked away. What I'd done was tell Leo he was an idiot and to get off his butt and fix this stupid situation with Clermont and the Doucette Clan or I would. What the heck. It seemed to work.

•   •   •

Once all the official stuff was done, the entire town turned out to eat, drink, and dance the night away. Not that it was perfect. There was a fistfight between a small group of humans and witches and an even smaller group of vampires, but the clan leaders broke it up and made an example of them to the rest. It wasn't deadly, but it wasn't pretty either. There was another moment of tension when a vampire asked a human woman to dance, but that too got smoothed over, and I didn't ask how. Most vamps can dance like nobody's business, and once the human women saw that vamps were willing partners, there wasn't an empty dance floor for the rest of the party.