Destined for an Early Grave (18 page)

My smile turned brittle. “Whoever said ignorance was bliss was shortsighted, if you ask me. But what’s done is done, and now I have an acquaintance to renew.”

The ghost looked momentarily hopeful. “Bones?”

“No. The little bitch inside, and you might not want to follow me for this one. It’s going to get ugly.”

I didn’t have to tell him twice. In a whirl, Fabian vanished. Neat trick. Sucked to have to be a phantom to do it.

My uncle waited for me farther inside the hallway. He looked…bad.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, instantly worried. Had Bones’s plane been tailed, or attacked, or worse?

“No.” He coughed. “I just have a cold.”

“Oh.” I gave him a hug hello. It surprised me when he squeezed back and held on. We weren’t a cuddly family.

Vlad sniffed the air. “A cold?”

Don let me go and gave him an annoyed look. “That’s right. Don’t concern yourself. I’m not contagious to your kind.”

He said it harshly. Jeez, maybe Don really did feel like shit. My uncle wasn’t normally so surly, even though vampires weren’t his favorite group of people.

Vlad looked him up and down and shrugged.

Don went right to business. It was his defining characteristic. “I just came from the downstairs cell. The prisoner hasn’t been very forthcoming about her role in this.”

“Then it’s time for me to see my old friend.”

C
ANNELLE DIDN’T APPEAR TO HAVE AGED A
day in the twelve years since I’d seen her. In fact, only her reddish brown hair was different with its new, shorter length. I guessed it was where she got her name. Cannelle. French for cinnamon.

She sat on a steel bench that took up an entire wall in the square, boxlike space. Cannelle wasn’t restrained, since Ian and Geri were in the room with her. Even if by some miracle she got past them, there were still three more guards outside the door. Her eye was black, and blood dripped from her mouth and temple, but she wasn’t cowed.

When I walked in, she blinked, then laughed.

“
Bonjour
, Catherine! It’s been a long time. You finally look like a woman. I am very surprised.”

I felt a nasty grin pull my lips. “
Bonjour
yourself, Cannelle. Yep, I grew tits and ass and a whole lot more. What a difference a dozen years makes, huh?”

She went right for the throat. “I must compliment you on your lover, Bones.
Qu’un animal, non
? In this instance, his reputation was…not gracious enough.”

Bitch.
I wanted to rip the smirk right off her face.

“Too bad he didn’t seem bowled over by your bedroom skills. I mean, the fact that you couldn’t get him to leave the city for a
ménage à cinq
doesn’t speak well, does it?”

Ian chuckled with malevolent humor. “Oh, you two ladies have a history, do you? You might want to start speaking now, poppet. I’ve been gentle with you, but Cat has a wicked temper. She’ll likely kill you before I can reason with her.”

“Her?” Cannelle flicked her finger contemptuously at me. “She’s a child.”

Boy, did she pick the wrong girl in the wrong mood.

“Hand me that knife, Ian.”

He passed it over, his turquoise eyes sparkling. Geri looked a little nervous. Cannelle didn’t even blink.

“You won’t kill me, Catherine. You play the hard woman, but I still see a little girl before me.”

Ian regarded Cannelle with amazement. “She’s unhinged.”

“No, she’s just remembering who I used to be. Gregor made that mistake also, at first.”

I smiled at Cannelle again while twirling the knife from one hand to the other. Her eyes followed the movement, and for the first time, she looked uncertain.

“Remember that big bad bitch Gregor didn’t want me turning into? Well, it happened. Now, I’m in a hurry, so here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to slam this knife through your hand, and the only way you’ll stop me is by talking, so please.
Please.
Don’t talk.”

She didn’t believe me. When Ian held Cannelle’s wrist to the bench, forcing her hand flat, she was still giving me that I-dare-you glare. When I held the knife over her hand, giving her one last chance to talk, she still thought I was bluffing. Only after I slammed the blade into her hand between her wrist and her fingers, jerking the blade in a twist, did she get the picture.

And couldn’t stop screaming.

“I know that hurts,” I remarked. “My father did that to my wrist last year, and damn, it was painful. Crippling, too. When I yanked the blade out, all my tendons were severed. I needed vampire blood to heal the damage. You will, too, Cannelle, or you’ll never use this hand again. So you can talk, and a dab of vampire blood’ll have you good as new. Or don’t talk, and I cripple your right hand next.”

“Fix it! Fix it!”

“You’ll tell us what we want to know?”

“Oui!”

I sighed and yanked the knife out. “Ian?”

Cannelle was still screaming when Ian sliced his palm and cupped it over her mouth.

“Quit wailing and swallow.”

She gulped at his hand. In seconds, her bleeding stopped, and the wound in her hand disappeared.

Geri couldn’t tear her eyes away from Cannelle’s mending hand. She shivered and rubbed her own hands together as if in reflex. I was more concerned with Cannelle’s face. Judging whether or not she’d go back on her word.

“Since we’ve established that I’m in a really foul mood, let’s move on to the question-and-answer phase. Oh, and if you make me use this knife again…I’m not healing anything I cut. What was your purpose in the French Quarter with Bones?”

Cannelle kept flexing her hand while staring at me in horror. “I was to fuck him,
naturellement,
and once assured that you heard of his infidelity, I was to take him to Gregor. Marie wouldn’t let Gregor’s people into the Quarter, though she did tell Gregor he could come.”

That was news. I’d thought no one was allowed in.

Ian was also interested. “If she’d granted him passage, then why didn’t Gregor meet Crispin inside the Quarter and fight him there if he wanted to kill him so badly?”

Cannelle’s mouth dipped. “Gregor said Bones wasn’t worthy of a fair fight.”

“Or Gregor was just chicken shit and wanted to stack the odds,” I muttered.

“Gregor is stronger,” Cannelle hissed, “but why would he allow his opponent to die with honor, considering his crimes?”

I wasn’t about to get into a character fight with Cannelle over Gregor. “So Gregor got Marie, the Queen of Orleans, to side with him. Interesting.”

Cannelle shrugged. “Marie said Gregor could only ambush Bones outside her city, which was why she didn’t let Gregor come with forces into the Quarter. Marie didn’t want to participate in making Bones leave, either, but Gregor made her.”

“He forced her?”

“
Non,
you misunderstand. He
made
her. ‘Twas his blood that raised her as a ghoul, and Gregor killed Marie’s other sire the night he changed her, so her fealty was only to him. Gregor agreed to release Marie in exchange, and Marie’s wanted free of Gregor for over a hundred years.”

“And Bones would trust Marie because she always guarantees safe passage in her meetings.”
That clever, dirty schmuck.

Cannelle actually smirked. “
Oui
.”

My anger turned to ice. “Is that all, Cannelle?”

“Oui.”

I turned to Ian. “Think she’s got more?”

He met my gaze with equal coldness. “No, poppet. I think that’s it.”

I still had the knife in my hand, slick from Cannelle’s blood.

“Cannelle,” I said in a steady, clear tone. “I’m going to kill you. I’m telling you this so you can take a moment to pray if you choose, or to reflect, whatever. You lured my husband around with the full intention of taking him to his slaughter, and that’s just not forgivable to me.”

“Cat, no,” Geri said.

I didn’t answer her. Cannelle gave me a look filled with malicious defiance. “But Bones isn’t your husband. Gregor is.”

“Semantics. You’re wasting time. Get right with God. Fast.”

“I am a
human
,” she hissed. “A living, breathing person. You may have it in you to wound me, but not to kill me.”

I ignored that, too. “Marie got her freedom for her role in this. What did Gregor promise? To change you into a vampire?”

Another hostile glare.
“Oui.
It’s my payment for all the years I’ve served him.”

“You backed the wrong horse,” I said. “You’re not going to be a vampire, Cannelle, but I’ll let you die like one.”

She stood up. “You wouldn’t dare. Gregor would kill you.”

Then she looked down. The silver knife was buried in her chest. It even vibrated for a few seconds with her last remaining heartbeats. Cannelle watched with astonishment the handle quiver before her eyes glazed and her knees buckled.

I stood over her and felt more of that awful coldness.

“Maybe Gregor will kill me for this, Cannelle. I’m willing to take that chance.”

I went to see Don. He was busy with his own preparations for departure. I didn’t know where my former unit was stationed now, and that was good by me. I wouldn’t have put it past Gregor to use that information to his advantage. Don wouldn’t, either. That’s why everyone from our division was clearing out right after I did.

Vlad was in Don’s office. As soon as I entered, they both quit speaking. My mouth curled.

“How obvious are you two? Come on, boys, what’s the topic? ‘Will Cat have a breakdown?’ or ‘Ten easy steps to talk someone out of suicide’? Both of you can save it. I’m okay.”

My uncle coughed. “Don’t be so dramatic. I was getting a way to contact you since you can’t exactly send me a postcard, and Vlad was informing me that you’ll be with him.”

I gave Vlad a look that would have been challenging—if I hadn’t just spent umpteen hours flying overseas on an empty stomach, lack of sleep, and general hypertension.

“For now.”

Vlad smiled, disdainful and amused at the same time. “It’s your choice, Cat. I’m not forcing you.”

Don looked back and forth between us, his gray eyes narrowing. They were the same smoky color as mine, and right now, they were glinting with suspicion.

“Is there something going on with the two of you that I should be aware of?”

“Isn’t there something going on with you that she should?” Vlad responded.

Now it was my turn to glance between them. “What?”

Don coughed and flashed a single glare to Vlad. “Nothing.”

Vlad let out a noncommittal grunt. “Then that’s all you’ll get from me as well, Williams.”

I was about to demand to know what the hell the subtext of this was when Don spoke up.

“Cat, you asked me before to find out if those dream-suppression pills had any side effects. I’ve checked with Pathology, and they said you might experience depression, mood swings, irritability, paranoia, and chronic fatigue. Have you noticed any of that?”

I thought back to my last few times with Bones and couldn’t help but burst into demented laughter.

“Yeah. All of the above, and all at once. This information would have been useful a couple weeks ago, but it’s kind of irrelevant now.”

I wasn’t going to use those pills again. I’d rather be ignorant of my whereabouts than subject to the side effects that had helped drive Bones and me apart. Don must have guessed some of my train of thought because he gave me a sad look.

The moment was broken when Cooper came running in. “B4358 is coming in for a landing.”

“What?” my uncle snapped. “They didn’t get permission!”

My eyes widened. Those were the call numbers to Dave’s plane. The one that was carrying Bones and Spade.

“I know, sir. The tower ordered them not to land, but they said an Englishman got on the wire and said to shut it or he’d beat the seven shades of shit out of him.”

Bones.
“We have to leave,” I said to Vlad. “Now.”

“‘Run, Forrest, run!’” Vlad mocked.

“Stow it, Drac,” I snapped. “With or without you, I’m in the air before he gets off that plane.”

“It will be with me. Williams”—Vlad gave a nod at my uncle—“farewell. Few people have your determination to walk their road all the way to its conclusion.”

I didn’t even spare the time to give my uncle a hug. I was halfway down the hall, tossing a “Thanks, ‘bye!” over my shoulder.

“Be safe, Cat,” Don called after me.

I’d try my best.

It was so close, I knew I’d be haunted by it, and the ghost on board had nothing to do with that. Cooper had fueled our plane while I’d been dealing with Cannelle, so there was no time wasted there. Vlad strode out, entering it moments behind me, with Fabian clinging to his shoulder. I’d have been all right if I hadn’t been compelled to look out the small window of the twin-engine craft as we took off. Our plane hit the skies just as the door to the other Cessna swung open, and an achingly familiar figure came out of it. For a crazy, heart-stopping moment, I felt like Bones was looking right at me.

“Why do I hear
Casablanca
music playing in my head?” Vlad asked in an ironic voice.

I looked away from the runway. “You’re a regular movie encyclopedia, aren’t you?”

“And you’re the boy who cried wolf. If you say it’s over, then let it be over, or quit spouting out false absolutes that you don’t believe yourself.”

Goddamn merciless Romanian usurper.
Why was I on a plane with him, anyway? Why didn’t I just go off by myself, trek to a rain forest, and hide there alone until Gregor, the ghouls, and everyone else forgot about me as completely as Bones had?

I gave one more last look out the window. We were up high enough now that I couldn’t be sure if he was still staring after us—or if he’d turned his head away, like I had to.

“You’re right,” I said to Vlad.

His hand reached out. The scars that covered it were mute testament to the decades of battles he’d fought, and those were just when he’d been human.

I took it, glad mine weren’t empty anymore and hating myself for feeling that way. How weak I was.

Vlad squeezed once. “I don’t want to be alone now either,” he said, making it sound very reasonable and not at all like something to be ashamed of.

I sighed.
Right again, buddy. That’s two for two.