15. Beware Strange Vamps Bearing Gifts

Deciding a strange vamp lying in wait was always a bad thing, I went to my apartment, grabbed my wolfpack, stripped out of my clothes, including my ring, stuffed them in the pack, strapped the pack on, and then fell to my hands and knees and allowed my wolf to take the fore. Being a wicche allowed the shift to happen quickly and without too much pain.

A minute later, I shook myself, fully inhabiting my other form. I trotted over to an empty bookcase in my living room, tapped the hidden release with a paw, and then was running through the tunnel that led deep into the Presidio, a former military post near the Golden Gate Bridge.

When I reached the magical barrier, a black marble monument in the San Francisco National Cemetery, I paused to scan again. I didn't want to jump through the ward only to find myself surrounded by strange vamps. Hazy forms? Yes. It was a cemetery, after all. No vamps, though.

Hopping through, I took off at a low run, keeping headstones between me and the nearby deserted road. Keeping to the shadows, I traversed the Presidio, stopping at a large grove of trees near its border. I could hear a homeless man sleeping under low branches and snoring. Skirting him, I secreted myself away, shifted forms, cleaned up, and got dressed. I'd started carrying baby wipes in my wolfpack, and it was a game changer. No more dirty hands and feet when I shifted back.

As I left the Presidio to jog through the streets, I checked again. The vamp and ghost were both gone. Interesting. The nocturne was only a few miles from The Slaughtered Lamb, so it was a nice, easy run home.

The vamp at the gate seemed more tense than usual. I would have asked why, but they were all such dicks, I couldn't bring myself to do it. The energy in the house was buzzing. Heading to the stairs, in need of a shower, I searched the nocturne in my mind and located Clive in his study. He was with Godfrey, Liang, and the strange vamp who'd been outside The Slaughtered Lamb. Huh. Maybe the newcomer was trying to check out the Master's new mate.

Pausing on the stairs, I closed my eyes and tried to eavesdrop. Channeling the payment into the wicche glass, I listened intently, skimming through Godfrey's thoughts. The new vamp was an old friend from England who was visiting the States and had dropped by to see Godfrey. She was merely paying her respects to Clive at the moment.

Feeling better, I pulled out of Godfrey's thoughts and headed for our bedroom and a hot shower. Cleaned, dried, and dressed in my softest jeans and sweater, I went down to wait in the library for Russell and tonight's lesson. If I had to meet this new vamp, I was presentable. If not, I was comfortable for a night of training. I'd even traded my usual running shoes for boots and left my hair down, instead of in its constant braid. See? Totally presentable as the Master's mate. Mostly.

Grabbing the mystery I'd been reading, I settled into my window seat, adjusted a few pillows, and dove back into nineteenth century Boston. The killer was the housekeeper. It had to be. She was a woman who held grudges for decades and was deeply, personally, offended by breaches in etiquette. She probably—

Bomb!

The word was shouted from three different minds, Clive's the first. Bolting off the cushion, I raced to the door, only to see it engulfed in a ball of fire that rocked the foundations. Lifted off my feet by a concussive wave of heat and flame, I flew across the library, and then nothing.

"Samantha?"Soft lips touched my battered head. I couldn't open my eyes. I seemed to have forgotten how.

"Sire, Dr. Underfoot has been contacted. He's on his way." Russell's deep voice helped to settle my nerves. If both Clive and Russell were fine, hopefully no one had been hurt in the explosion.

"If I could just—" Liang began.

"OUT!"

I flinched at the rage in Clive's voice, setting off a million hurts and causing a whine to escape.

"Sorry," he whispered, as a feather-light kiss brushed my lips. "Help is coming."

"I also called Lilah Wong, Sire. She's an excellent healer." Russell sounded angry, as well.

"Good."

"Shouldn't we move her to the couch or your bed? She can't possibly be comfortable lying in rubble." Godfrey had a good point. I hurt everywhere, but part of that seemed to be the pointy-edged rocks I was on. And yay, Godfrey was fine, too.

"I don't know what's broken," Clive said, his voice strained.

"He could cause more damage if she's hurt her spine," Russell said. "Look at the blast radius and where she is now. She had to have been thrown ten feet before slamming into the stone of this fireplace." He paused a moment. "It's a miracle she's not dead."

"I should have taken her head instead of banishing her," Clive ground out.

My eyes fluttered open. Hey, they did work. "What…happened?" My voice had become part whisper, part creak, and all ouch, like I had inhaled the flames.

"Sam," he breathed. Clive was looking singed himself. Ash marred his jaw. His clothes were torn…and smoking.

"Ow."

"What hurts?" he asked, concern etched in his features.

My eyelids drifted closed of their own volition. They were being real assholes today. "Kinda one big hurt over here." Talking was overrated and far too ouchy to do on the regular.

Russell crouched down on my other side. "Does anything feel broken, Miss Quinn?" Before I could answer, he rose like a shot and barked, "Downstairs! Everyone downstairs. You'll be called if you're needed."

"What's wrong?" My eyes slitted open for a moment and I saw the rest of the vamps who were standing in what used to be a doorway walk down the hall. Russell was usually the voice of calm reason. Why was he shouting?

Russell and Clive exchanged a look before my eyelids dropped yet again.

"Godfrey," Clive began, "check the perimeter. Make sure we're protected. We have no idea if our visitor was working alone or in league with others. When you're done, if we're secure, please go downstairs and make sure everyone feeds."

"Sire." Godfrey's footsteps retreated from the room.

Oh, got it. "I'm bleeding, huh?"

"Head wounds do, unfortunately, bleed quite a bit, Miss Quinn." Russell crouched down again. "Anything feel broken? Numb?"

I considered how I felt after the Orc whaled on me. "I can't speak for internal bleeding, but I don't think anything's broken." Broken. Shit. I tried to move my arm and hissed in pain. "The wicche glass. Is it broken?" It was such a delicate ball of spun glass, how could it have survived the blast?

Clive pulled the chain around my neck. A moment later, the wicche glass spun before my eyes, sparkling in the low light.

"How?"

Gently tucking it back into my sweater, he lifted his eyebrows. "Magical object?" Turning to Russell, he said, "Spread a blanket on the couch."

"Please," I reminded him.

"Please," he echoed.

As carefully as he could, Clive picked me up and deposited me on the couch.

"Did you already…" I pointed a finger that didn't hurt toward my head.

The tension on Clive's face eased a fraction as he tried to smile. "Yes, I sealed the head wounds. Blood did, however"—he glanced over at the rubble that had been a fireplace—"drip onto the stones."

"Hence the vampy interest in my well-being." Figures the only time they'd actually care if I was okay is when my blood was up for grabs.

"That word." Crouched beside me, humor had finally taken the place of fear in his eyes.

"Hence?" Every word hurt, but playing with Clive felt good. From the couch, I could finally see the full extent of the damage. I tried to choke off a sob but wasn't quite successful. Clive and Russell were instantly alert.

"What?" Clive demanded.

"Look." At his confused expression, I pointed. The door to the library had been blown apart, taking the whole wall with it. Bookshelves had been destroyed. Torn, scorched books were scattered over half the library. The blast had taken out at least a third of the former ballroom.

"Things can be replaced, Miss Quinn. We're more concerned with you right now."

My head was feeling woozy and floaty, like I was hovering over myself. I could still feel the pain, but it was almost separate from me. Dr. Underfoot and Lilah would be here soon enough. I didn't need to tell these two about the floaty pain. They were worried enough as it was.

"So, who was the strange vamp and why does she want me dead?" Maybe I could move their focus from me to the blast.

"Not you, me," Clive said. He slid a chair over and sat beside me, while Russell murmured into a phone. "She was an old friend of Godfrey's, said she was swinging through the city on a visit."

"I heard you all shout bomb—"

Russell hissed over the top of my words again.

"They're all downstairs or outside, aren't they?"

"You tell us." Clive studied me intently.

I didn't think my battered brain was up to it, but I closed my eyes and tried to find the cold green blips of vampires. They were all where they were supposed to be, out of earshot. What wasn't supposed to be here was the ghostly haze by the former fireplace.

"Hello," I ventured.

Both vamps went on instant alert, suddenly standing between me and the fireplace.

"It's okay, guys." I patted the backs of their legs. "You're in the way."

Clive inched right as Russell inched left, giving me a window. Focusing my power on the hazy cloud, it began to take form. It was the ghost I'd felt outside the Slaughtered Lamb tonight. Was she working with the vamp?

A moment later, the haze coalesced into a human form. A woman. It was the ghost that had warned me a party of vamps from New Orleans was coming to kill Clive last month.

Reaching out a hand, I said, "Thank you for your help before."

She nodded, her eyes glued to the vamps in fear.

"You don't need to worry about them. They can't even see you."

Reluctantly, she tore her eyes away from my guardians and looked at me.

"You're the one I pulled from the ocean, right? Well, tried to anyway. I failed horribly, as I was being shot at. It was a mermaid who rescued you, which is far cooler."

"Do you know who she's talking to?" Russell whispered.

"I believe so." Clive glanced down at me and back across the room. "This is the ghost of the tortured werewolf, the one who warned you about the New Orleans attack, is it not?" He patted Russell's shoulder, letting him off guard duty, and then resumed his seat. Vampires could do nothing about ghosts.

"What's your name?"

Moving closer, her eyes continued to dart to the vamps in the room. She mouthed something.

"I'm sorry. I didn't get that. Last time when you touched me, it helped me hear."

Hesitantly, she moved to the end of the couch and placed one finger on my bare foot. What happened to my boots?

"Charlotte."

"I'm Sam."

A smile came quickly and was gone. "I know."

"Do you have another message for me…or are you just visiting?" I didn't want to make her feel unwelcome. She had helped us before. "If you're ready to move on, I can help."

She was already shaking her head before I'd finished my offer. "Not yet." She glanced over her shoulder toward the hall. "That dead bloodsucker. She was prowling around your place. I was keeping an eye on her." She wrung her ghostly hands. "I missed the bomb, though."

"That's okay. No one was hurt."

Clive could only hear my half of the conversation, but that last comment still earned an incredulous look, one Charlotte mirrored.

"I mean no one besides me."

"Why would I care about a bunch of bloodsuckers dying?" Charlotte was clearly questioning my sanity and I couldn't blame her. Other than myself, I doubted any werewolves would shed a tear over a dead—a well and truly dead—vamp.

I relayed to Clive what she'd told me.

Russell stopped speaking midsentence and came around the back of the couch, pocketing his phone. "Our bomb-wielding visitor went first to your establishment?" He turned to Clive. "Were we wrong about her purpose?"

"I don't think so. I felt her intent as she pulled that package from her pocket. She wanted my death. My guess is that if she could inform me of my mate's demise before she ensured my own, it would be that much sweeter."

"Wait." I glanced around the room, remembering Clive's shout of "Out!" earlier. "If she was the one with the bomb, why was Liang tossed?"