•   •   •

It was midafternoon when I woke again and this time I stripped and showered, hoping the cool water might stand a chance of waking me up. It did clear my head, and it also allowed me time enough for my subconscious and dream-state mind to present me with a plan. It wasn’t a good plan, but any plan is better than no plan. It also gave me time to figure a few things out.

Hair braided up on my head with sterling hair-stick stakes to hold the large bun in place, wearing jeans and socks and a sports bra and tee, the small bag containing the sliver of the Blood Cross hanging from my gold chain, I left my room. Eli, looking wide-awake, was cleaning his weapons at the kitchen table. Sitting cater-corner from him, Alex was working on his tablets. The Kid leaned back and switched on a fan that emitted a low-level hum of electronics. It wasn’t hot in the room, though the air conditioner was humming outside, which meant he was using the fan as a low-tech voice dampener.

I poured tea that someone had obviously set to steep when they heard me get up, and I stood at the table near them. Added creamer and sugar. Cognizant of the fan’s noise level, I said softly, “When was someone going to tell me that Bruiser was one of the people that Bethany took with her when she went gadabout last night?”

Alex’s head jerked and his heart rate sped, though his eyes never left his screens. Eli’s heart remained steady and his hands stable on the weapon he was laying out. “When we knew for sure,” Eli said. A hollow place opened up inside me. I had been guessing, but—“And then when you woke. No point in waking you to tell you something you can’t do anything about, now, is there?”

“You do know that talking so reasonably is one surefire way to tick a woman off?”

“The woman of my dreams has so informed me.” He said it with a grin, an odd one for him, showing teeth, and he added, “And Syl accompanied the information with a head slap, which led to the most amazing—”

“Stop. Not interested,” I said.

“I am,” the Kid said.

“No,” Eli and I both said together. Family was so wonderful. But Eli still had that odd note about him. I watched him work as I sipped, worry for Bruiser worming through me, growing. He should have called by now. “So do we have video of Bruiser and the nutso priestess leaving vamp HQ together?”

Eli tilted his head at his brother, who fiddled with a tablet before swiveling it toward me. I sat, straddling a chair, holding the warm tea mug/soup bowl in both hands propped on the chair back, to watch. Bethany was shown on three screens, dashing through darkened vamp hallways, some floors and walls streaked with blood. Brute was on her trail, racing close at her feet, his muzzle black from biting the thing on the wall, the thing called Joses Bar-Judas, and his crystalline eyes seemed to glow with light. Not good. Bethany had to know he was there.

She passed one of Derek’s men. Hi-Fi, short for Vodka Hi-Fi, a mixed drink and his team name, spun from an all-out run as she touched him, to follow her. Hi-Fi and the werewolf raced after her to the front entrance, where the way was blocked by a group of men, scruffy guys in night camo—the cloth blacks and grays—and carrying guns. In front of the group was Bruiser and the two other Onorios. I hadn’t seen Brandon and Brian since the arcenciel attack. It looked like they had gone somewhere and returned with backup.

Bethany paused long enough to reach out and touch Bruiser, standing in the busted-out entry. He was dressed in Enforcer regalia, leather and weapons enough to finish his own little war, but when she touched him, he went still; then he whipped in behind her and raced away with the others. Brandon and Brian followed. Brute was still with her too, like a good dog following its master. Hi-Fi moved after them, stumbling at first, then moving with purpose and picking up speed.

“She rolled Bruiser, Brandon, and Brian,” I said. “I thought Onorios couldn’t be rolled.”

“Maybe not by an ordinary suckhead,” Alex said, “but it looks like a priestess might be different.” Slower, he said, “A priestess who was mostly responsible for George rising as an Onorio and not being turned into a scion chained to a wall. Or dead. Maybe she left a, you know, like a back door, into a firewalled system. She has the password.”

I grimaced and tried to ignore the spike of reaction. I was not jealous. I was not. “And the twins?”

“I got nothing there,” Alex said. “I don’t know when or how they were changed from blood-servants to Onorios. But if Bruiser’s method—essentially dead, then brought back by the priestess—is the only way, and it may be, for all we know, then maybe she brought back Brandon and Brian too.”

“Bethany, Brandon, Brian, Bruiser, and Brute,” Eli murmured. “You got some good alliteration going on there, Janie.”

“Ha-ha,” I said to Eli. “Fine,” I said to Alex, and pushed the tablet to him. I glowered at nothing and sipped my tea. “Any way to track where they went?”

“No. Sorry. Power went out in the Quarter, remember? The only reason we have this much is the one generator that came back online.”

“Is there any way to track them later?”

“His cell is off. I can try to ping it. Or try to turn it back on. But if Peregrinus is in our systems, he’ll get the data and location, and know that we’re interested in it. In George.”

I glanced at the fan, sipped my tea, and thought. Eli wasn’t talking much. He was too quiet. “I called his cell earlier,” I confessed. Neither guy said anything, but I knew they were thinking that it was a stupid move. “Do we know where Peregrinus is?”

“No,” Alex said. “But we’re all in agreement that he’ll be back tonight.”

“Without his backup, since they’re all dead.”

“Except for the arcenciel,” Eli said, his tone mild.

No one answered. I sipped some more tea. Worried about Bruiser. Then I sighed. “I need to try something. Practice something.” I shrugged. “I need to enter the gray place of the change and see if I can see Soul or the hatchling. And maybe get a fix on Bruiser.”

“You can do that?” Eli asked, his voice calm, sedate, nearly toneless, the tenor that told me he was preparing for battle. I should have picked up on it already.

“I have no idea. But I think I need to try.”

“You could just text her,” he suggested, sounding quietly rational.