The others finished dressing long
before I did; of course, none of them had
to arm themselves. Most of the
weaponry I was carrying, including the
holster with my 1911 Colt, was
concealed by the spells put on my
tailored black blazer. Even with the
armament, you couldn’t have faulted my
fashion statement. I wore a red silk shell
and new black jeans under the jacket; the
Colt’s black leather holster perfectly
matched my short black boots, one of
which had a built-in holster for my
derringer.
When I was finally ready, Queen
Lopaka and her security detail led the
bride and her bridesmaids out of the
store, leaving the attendant spluttering in
our wake. A black stretch limo pulled up
to the curb as we flowed out of the
building.
Adriana and I were the last to exit the
shop, and I stopped abruptly when my
boots hit the sidewalk. Something was
wrong. I couldn’t have said what exactly
was bothering me, but it didn’t matter.
“Down!
Everybody
down!”
I
screamed, swinging my arm out and
snagging Adriana around the waist. I
shoved her behind me, almost throwing
her to the pavement, as I put myself
between her and the roadway.
For a fraction of an instant, time
seemed to slow drastically. More guards
appeared, seeming to hover in midair as
the queen’s eyes went wide. The back
windows of the limo rolled down. Rifle
barrels appeared. Natasha and Olga
froze as members of the security team
reached for them. The bridesmaids
looked like deer caught in the headlights
of an oncoming car—stunned and blank.
Guns roared. Men and women screamed,
glass shattered, and car doors slammed.
I got all this in fragments; I was busy
trying to wrestle Adriana into the limited
safety of the bridal shop when what she
wanted was to rush to her mother’s side.
I heard an engine roar and a squeal of
tires as a second limo tore off into
traffic. In the silence that fell I realized
that Lopaka, Natasha, and Olga had been
driven away, leaving me and my cousin
alone with the gunmen. It’s not the way I
would have done it, but I suppose it
made sense—I was a bodyguard, and
Adriana was my responsibility. It was
actually sort of flattering that the Siren
Secret Service presumed I’d get her to
safety.
I tried to get her to calm down, saying,
“They’re fine. I don’t smell blood
behind me.” But Adriana kept struggling
with me. I suspected she didn’t believe
me—and she was right not to, because I
was lying.
Finally I lost all patience and just
slugged her in the jaw, then picked her
up bodily and dragged her into the store.
More gunshots sounded as the guards
fought the gunmen.
Lopaka’s voice rang in my mind,
telling me to do what I was already
doing. Celia, get her out of there. Keep
her safe.
I kept my body between Adriana and
any open space. The two remaining
bodyguards seemed to be giving me
some cover with their Kevlar-covered
bodies. We passed the bloody form of
the dying bridal consultant, her body
riddled with bullets and shards of glass.
My cousin began to come back to her
senses, which meant she was no longer
dead weight, but it was still hard to
move her. “Damn it, Adriana, come on. ”
I was shouting, but since my ears were
ringing from the gunfire, I assumed
Adriana was similarly affected. I didn’t
remember pulling a weapon, but there
was a gun in my left hand. I dragged her
past a pair of circular racks filled with a
rainbow selection of floor-length gowns,
toward the back door.
Then I saw movement and ducked,
pulling her down with me, gesturing for
her to hide in the dress racks and to stay
absolutely silent. It was a bridal shop,
so nearly all of the racks had floor-
length
gowns.
Peeking
around
a
gorgeous, slinky red silk I couldn’t wear
on my best day, I saw a pair of men in
business suits moving quickly but nearly
silently through the store, guns in hand.
That must mean the two guards outside
hadn’t survived. Damn it.
The first covered the second, who
pushed back the door of each dressing
room in turn. The way they moved told
me there were wearing bulletproof vests
under their dress shirts. They switched
positions for the second rank of changing
rooms. They were definitely pros.
Adriana stayed silent, but only to
those with no telepathy. In my head, she
was terrified, indignant, and angry. You
expect me to hide ?
Hell, yes. You’re the one they’re
after and you’re unarmed. Let me do
my damned job. Stress always made my
telepathy work better and I knew
Adriana could hear me clearly.
Fine. But give me one of your guns.
I risked a glance at her. What? Are
you nuts?
My cousin gave me a scathing look. I
know how to shoot. And if something
happens to you, I’d like to at least be
able to defend myself.
She had a good point and I didn’t have
time to argue. I handed her the derringer
from my boot and slithered as quietly as
I could to the next rack.
They’d reached the last dressing room
and found it empty. Scowling, they
started scanning the store. They knew we
had to be in here. But they didn’t see us
and they were running out of time. Police
sirens wailed in the distance, closing
fast. If the attackers didn’t go soon,
there’d be no chance of escape.
They split up, each moving down an
aisle of racks. I shifted position, getting
ready. Switching off the safety, I braced
my gun hand and waited until the first
man leaned down to check under the
counter. Then I stood. It only took a
second, but I felt like I had all the time in
the world. The second guy turned at my
movement, his gun pointed straight at
me. But he hesitated for just a fraction of
a second. I didn’t. I fired three rapid
shots into the central mass of number
two’s neck before diving under a
clothing rack, rolling as fast as I could
through the tangling fabric. Even if the
bad guys always seem to wear vests,
they nearly always forget to protect their
necks. A head or neck
shot will kill you
just as dead.
Number one fired at where he
assumed I must be. Close, no cigar. I felt
the sting of splintering white oak
flooring entering my flesh through my
jeans, but the bullets themselves missed.
The police sirens were close now.
Swearing, the assassin bolted out the
back door. I heard the roar of an engine
and the squeal of tires, and he was gone.
I bolted out from under the rack and
started to give CPR to Thug Two. I
would be damned if he was going to die
before he told me why they wanted
Adriana dead. My cousin joined me a
moment later, just before the police
edged in cautiously, weapons drawn. I
would have done just the same,
considering the dead bodies and blood
everywhere. They found me keeping the
guy’s heart beating—a bit of a losing
battle because Adriana was having a
hard time keeping his blood in his
carotid artery. I hadn’t meant to sever it,
but there you go. Adriana and I had tried
to save him, and I knew the EMTs
who’d come with the cops would do
their best, but the odds weren’t good.
11
“One more time, if you would, Ms.
Graves. I understand that you called out
as the car was pulling up to the curb and
else had noticed anything wrong with the
limo. How did you know there was a
problem?”
I sighed and tried to stay calm. It had
been a very long, stressful day. I needed
to eat. I’d been at the police station for a
number of hours by now and, while I can
go longer between feedings than I used
to, my control isn’t perfect by a long
shot. Especially when I’ve been busy
trying to save lives.
My stomach growled impatiently. I
tried to ignore it, forced myself not to
look at the pulse beating so temptingly in
the detective’s throat.
Deep breath. The man’s just doing
his job. Stay calm. “Most of the others
were probably at bad angles, and the
windows were tinted. Adriana and I
were the last to leave the store, so we
had a different point of view, through the
windshield.”
“Ah. And what did you see that tipped
you off?”
I’d had time to think about it and had
finally realized what had been bugging
me. “It wasn’t the same driver we’d had
earlier in the morning. The first guy’s
hair was really short; the second guy’s
hair brushed his ears and collar. It also
seemed to me that the car was moving
too fast. I mean, yeah, the driver
might’ve been the kind to slam on the
brakes at the curb, but most pros aren’t
like that, especially when they’re driving
royalty.”
“Detective Rawlins,” my attorney,
Roberto Santos, said in his honey-
smooth voice, “my client has been
extremely cooperative. She has given a
full statement.” He was sitting next to
me, which was the usual for me when I
was being interviewed by the police, at
least in this country—even when I was
just a witness. He hadn’t had a lot to do
thus far, because there were all kinds of
witnesses saying that I’d basically saved
the day and helped foil an assassination
attempt.
Self-defense and defense of the life of
another notwithstanding, I’d put three
bullets into a guy’s neck. He was dead
and I’d killed him. It was all clearly
visible on the store’s security feed.
Roberto continued, sounding perfectly
reasonable, “Ms. Graves has worked
with your sketch artist and given a
description of the man who escaped. But
she has a serious medical condition that
is made worse by stress. I really must
insist that we take a break at least long
enough for her to use the facilities and to
eat so that nothing … unfortunate
happens.”
Okay, maybe that was pushing it a
little. Of course, Roberto couldn’t know
how much progress I’d made in
controlling my condition.
“Mr. Santos.” The detective’s lips
moved up in a semblance of a smile, but
his eyes were cold, hard pebbles set in
an equally stony face. “A man is dead.
Your client killed him. She shot him,
deliberately and repeatedly. She will sit
here answering questions for as long as I
feel it’s necessary.”
I didn’t sigh. I didn’t fidget. I just
closed my eyes and counted to twenty.
Perhaps Detective Rawlins was just a
good,
old-fashioned,
hard-headed
detective. Then again, it was possible he
was one of the members of my “fan
club,” the group of officers who’ve
decided I’m a monster and are willing to
go to almost any lengths to prove it.
They want me locked behind bars or put
down like a rabid dog. Either way, he
was pushing my buttons. That was a very
bad thing.
There was a tap at the door. Rawlins
made a low, grumbling noise, then rose
and left the room, closing the door
behind him. I’m sure they didn’t think I
could hear them through a closed door,
especially since they were speaking
softly. But my vampire nature was very
eavesdropping easy.
“You have to let her go,” said a man’s
voice, not one I recognized.
“The hell you say! She’s a freaking
killer. She’s admitted it.” That was
Detective Rawlins.
“Doesn’t matter. It was a righteous
shoot. Even if it wasn’t, she’s got
diplomatic immunity from two countries.
She’s also a freaking celebrity, and she
just foiled an assassination attempt on
members of a royal family. We’ve got
press screaming for blood, politicos
riding our ass, and no good reason to
keep her. We can bring her back in if we
need to. For now, cut her loose.”
“Have you looked at her? She has
fangs. She should be staked or put in a
fucking cage. Even her attorney admits
that she could lose control if she doesn’t
eat.”
“So let her eat, and let her go.”
“Is that an order?”
A pause and then the voice lowered to
a growl. “Does it need to be?”
There was a long silence. I could hear
Rawlins breathing harshly. “We’ll wind
up regretting this. When that time
comes…”
“If that time comes, there’ll be a note
in your file.” The voice made it
a threat.
“Good,” Rawlins spat. “Glad to hear
it.”
When they cut me loose, the first thing
I did was grab my cell phone and dial
Adriana’s number. The call went straight
to voice mail. Annoying, but not
unexpected. Roberto had told me that
Lopaka and the others had been taken to
the secure ward of a local hospital, but
he didn’t know which one. If Adriana
was there with her mother, it was likely
that no call could reach her. So I dug out
the card Baker had given me and keyed
the number into my phone. The line rang
only once.
“Princess.” Ah, caller ID, gotta love
it.
“Special Agent Albright.”
She sounded both amused and
exhausted. “Am I to assume the police
have finally tired of interrogating you?”
“They have. How is the queen? Where
are Adriana and the others?”
“Her Royal Majesty is in intensive
care at St. Anthony’s Hospital. Princess
Adriana is with her.”
Intensive care? It was that bad? I
couldn’t help but worry. Despite only
knowing her for a short time, I really
liked Lopaka.
“What about Olga and Natasha?”
“They’re secure at the Ruslandic
Embassy.”
“As soon as I can get some weapons,
I’ll head over to the hospital.”
“Don’t bother. We’ve got it covered
for now. Get some rest. Check in again
in the morning.” She hung up before I
could argue. No surprise. She had a lot
on her plate.
My aunt, the queen of queens, the most
powerful siren in the world, was in
intensive care. Crap.
It took a minute for that to fully sink
in, which told me just how distracted I
was. Sirens are hard to kill. Very, very
hard to kill. I’d seen one get shot to
pieces and she had kept breathing, her
damaged heart still beating. It isn’t
public knowledge, but I had it on good
authority that the only things that can
actually kill a pure-blooded siren are
weapons wielded in jealousy—an
emotion that is a poison to us—or
certain specially made magical artifacts.
The shooters in the car hadn’t been
women, so jealousy wasn’t a factor.
That told me two things. First, someone
in the know had leaked exactly where
we were going and when we’d be there.
Second, the attackers had arranged for
literally dozens of bullets to be spelled
—because that was the only way to try
to kill royal sirens. Even a thousand
standard rounds wouldn’t be enough.