Bone Crossed

“She is your Mistress no more,” Estelle hissed. She strode forward until I was pressed against Stefan’s leg. “She tortured you—I saw what she did. You, who love her—she starved you and flayed the skin from you. How can you support her now?”

Stefan didn’t reply.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that I was right to trust him to protect me and not turn me into his mindless slave. Stefan didn’t turn on those he loved. No matter what.

Estelle threw up her hands. “Idiot. Fool. She will go down, either by my hand or by Bernard’s. And you know that the seethe will do better in my hands than in that fool Bernard’s. I have contacts. I can make us grow and thrive until not even the courts of Italy will rival what we build.”

Stefan quit leaning against the van. He spat on the ground with deliberate slowness.

She tensed, furious at the insult, and he smiled grimly. “Do it,” he said—and, with a flick of his wrist and the magic of a Highlander episode, he held a sword in one hand. It was efficient-looking rather than beautiful: deadly.

“Soldier, you’ll regret this,” Estelle said.

“I regret many things,” he replied, his voice sharpening with a cold, roiling anger. “Letting you walk off tonight might be another one. Maybe I shouldn’t do it.”

“Soldier,” she said. “Remember who it was who betrayed you. You know how to reach me—don’t wait until it is too late.”

The vampires left with preternatural speed, their human bait running after them. Stefan waited, sword in hand, while a car purred to life and one of the seethe’s black Mercedes lit up. It roared past us and disappeared into the night.

He looked around, then asked me, “Do you smell anything, Mercy?”

I tested the air, but, except for Stefan, the vampires were gone ... or upwind. I shook my head and trotted back to the van. Stefan, gentleman that he had once been, stayed outside until I was dressed.

“That was interesting,” I said, as he got in and put the van in gear.

“She’s a fool.”

“Marsilia?”

Stefan shook his head. “Estelle. She’s no match for Marsilia. Bernard ... he’s tougher and stronger even if he’s younger. Together, they might manage something, but it’ll be without me.”

“It didn’t sound like they were working together,” I said.

“They’ll work together until they’ve achieved their goals, then fight it out. But they are fools if they think they’ll even get that far. They’ve forgotten, or have never known, what Marsilia can be.”

HE PULLED UP IN THE DRIVEWAY AND WE BOTH GOT OUT of the van.

“If you need me, if you hear Blackwood call you again—just think of my name as you wish me at your side, and I’ll come.” He looked grim. I hoped it was the encounter with Estelle and not worry for me.

“Thank you.”

He brushed a thumb over my cheek. “Wait for a while before you thank me. You might change your mind.”

I patted his arm. “Decision’s made.”

He gave me a shallow bow and disappeared.

“That is just so cool,” I told the empty air, and, suddenly so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open, I went inside and tucked myself into bed.

8

ADAM WAS SITTING ON THE FOOT OF MY BED WHEN I woke up the next ... afternoon. He was leaning against the wall reading a well-worn copy of The Book of Five Rings. It was resting on Medea’s back, and she was purring, wiggling her stub tail—which she uses more like a dog than a cat.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I asked.

He turned a page, and said in an absent voice, “My boss is flexible.”

“Doesn’t dock your pay for shirking,” I mused. “How can I get a boss like yours?”

He grinned. “Mercy, even when Zee was your boss, he wasn’t. I have no idea how you would ever find anyone you’d listen to ... unless you wanted to.” He marked his place and set the book beside him. “I’m sorry your foray into exorcism didn’t go well.”

I considered it. “It depends upon your outlook, I suppose. I learned a few things ... like did you know that Stefan knew sign language? Why do you suppose a vampire would need to learn to sign? That ghosts aren’t always harmless. I always thought the only way a ghost could kill was if it scared someone to death.”

He waited, curling his fingers over the lump my toes made in the covers. His other hand was rubbing Medea’s head, just behind her ears. Adam knows how to listen better than most people. So I told him what I hadn’t told him before.

“I think it might have been my fault.”

“What do you mean?”

“Until I came, it wasn’t doing much ... just standard poltergeist stuff. Moving things around. Frightening, all right, but not dangerous. Then I show up, and things change. Chad almost gets killed. Ghosts just don’t do that—even Stefan said so. I think I did something to make it worse.”

He tightened his hold on my toes. “Has that ever happened to you before?”

I shook my head.

“Then maybe you’re claiming too much credit. Maybe it would have happened anyway, and if you hadn’t been there with Stefan, the boy would have died.”

I wasn’t sure he was right, but confessing my fear made me feel better, anyway.

“How is Mary Jo?” I asked.