Burnt Offerings (ab-7) (39 page)

"What would you do to save yourself, Padma? What would you give? Who would you give?" I whispered that last.

He whispered back, "Anything."

"Anyone?" I asked.

He just looked at me.

Jean-Claude was sitting up, cradled in Richard's arms. "It is still a duel until one is dead. It is within our rights to insist on finishing this."

"Are you so eager to die?" the Traveler said. "The death of one is the death of all." He stood above us and a little back as if he didn't want to be too closely associated with us. Too bloody, too primitive, too mortal.

"That is a question for Padma to answer, not me," Jean-Claude said.

"What is your price?" Padma asked.

"No more punishment for Oliver's death. He lost a duel, it is as simple as that." Jean-Claude coughed, and more blood spattered from his lips.

"Agreed," Padma said.

"Agreed," the Traveler said.

"I never wanted them dead because of the Earthmover's death," Yvette said. "Agreed."

Asher said, "The Earthmover earned his death. Agreed."

Jean-Claude held his hand out to me. "Come,
ma petite
. We have our safety."

I shook my head, laying a kiss on Padma's forehead, gentle, chaste. "I promised Sylvie that everyone who raped her would die."

Padma's body jerked, reaction at last. "The woman you can have, but not my son."

"Do you agree to that, Traveler? You, who Liv calls master now. Do you give her up so easily?"

"Will you kill him if I refuse?" he asked.

"I gave Sylvie my word," I said. And I knew that would mean something to them.

"Then Liv is yours to do with as you see fit."

"Master," she said.

"Silence," the Traveler said.

"See, Liv, they're just monsters." I stared down into Padma's bloody face and watched fear fill his eyes like water pouring into a glass. I watched him look into my face and see the emptiness. No, for the first time I wanted to kill. Not for revenge, or safety, or even my word, but just because I could. Because in some dark part of me it would be a pleasure to crush his heart and watch dark blood pour from him. I'd have liked to blame it on Raina's munin, but I wasn't sure. Maybe it was just me. Maybe it always had been. Hell, maybe it was one of the boys. I didn't know and it didn't matter. I let the thought fill my face and eyes. I let Padma see, and fear filled his face, his eyes, because he understood.

"I want Fernando," I said softly.

"He is my son."

"Someone must die for his crimes, Padma. I would rather it were him, but if you won't give him to me, then I'll take you in his place."

"No," Yvette said. "We have been more than generous here. We have let you kill a council member and go unpunished. We have given you back your traitor and our new toy. We owe you nothing else."

I looked at Padma but I spoke for the Traveler's ears. "If you had just insulted the vampires of this city, then it would be over and you would owe us nothing. But we are lukoi and not vampires. You called our Geri to your hand and she came. You tried to break her, and when she would not bend you tortured her. You tortured her when you knew it would not give you the lukoi. You dishonored her for no reason, other than that you could. You did it because you expected no reprisal. The Master of Beasts thought our pack was beneath notice. Pawns in a larger game."

I released his heart, because if I hadn't, the munin would have killed him. I shoved the power deeper into him. I shoved it hard and fast until he screamed. Gideon and Thomas echoed the scream.

Padma collapsed backwards onto the floor with me riding his body.

I rose up, hands flat over his chest, legs straddling his body. "We are the Thronos Rokke, the Throne Rock people, and we are no one's pawns."

Fernando knelt just outside the circle. "Father," he said.

"His life or yours, Padma. His life or yours."

Padma closed his eyes and whispered, "His."

"Father! You can't give me to her. To them!"

"Your word of honor that he is ours to punish as we see fit, even unto death," I said.

Padma nodded. "My word."

Damian, Jason, and Rafael just suddenly appeared around Fernando. He reached out to his father. "I am your son."

Padma would not look at him. Even when I crawled off him, he curled on his side away from Fernando.

I wiped blood off my chin with the back of my hand. The munin was leaving, draining away. I could taste blood all the way down. I rolled onto my side and threw up. Blood does not improve the second time around.

Jean-Claude reached out to me and I went to him. The moment his cool hand touched mine I felt better. Not a lot, but some. Richard's hand touched my face gently. I let them draw me into the circle of their arms. Jean-Claude seemed to gain strength just from my touch. He sat up a little straighter.

I glanced over to find Gideon and Thomas doing much the same with Padma. Blood poured from all of them, but only Padma's eyes were still haunted by fear. I'd pushed him to the edge of the abyss. Pushed us both. I'd been raised Catholic and I wasn't sure there were enough Hail Marys in the world to cover what was happening to me lately.

Fernando tried to make a break for it but he was outmanned. Or would that be out-monstered? They bound him with silver chains and gagged him. The last was to stop his constant begging. He just couldn't believe his father had betrayed him.

Liv didn't fight. She seemed to take it almost resignedly. What seemed to surprise her most was the fact that I didn't kill them both where they stood. But I had other plans for them. They'd insulted the pack. It would be pack justice. That was sort of a group activity. Maybe we'd invite the wererats and have a cross species jamboree.

When they were led away, a silence so deep and wide that it thundered in the ears filled the room. Yvette stepped into that silence. She was smiling and lovely, fresh and beautiful on Jason's blood and our mingled power.

"Jean-Claude must still answer for his traitorous ways," she said.

"What are you babbling about?" the Traveler said.

"My master, Morte d' Amour, has accused him of trying to start another council in this country. A council that will steal our power and make us but laughable puppets."

The Traveler waved it away. "Jean-Claude is guilty of many things but that is not one of them."

Yvette smiled, and the smile was enough. She was going to say something bad. "What say you, Padma? If he is a traitor, then we can execute him for it. He can be an example to all others who would dare usurp the council's power."

Padma was still on the ground, cradled in the arms of his two servants. He still wasn't feeling too good. He stared at our little group. We were still huddled on the floor, too. The six of us were not going to be dancing tonight. The look in Padma's eyes said it all. I'd humiliated him, scared the hell out of him, and forced him to give up his only son to sure death. He smiled, and it wasn't pretty. "If they are traitors, then they must be punished."

"Padma," the Traveler said, "you know this is false."

"I did not say they were traitors, Traveler. I said
if
they were traitors. If they are traitors, then they must be punished. Even you must agree to that."

"But they are not traitors," the Traveler said.

"I use my master's proxy to call a vote," Yvette said. "I think I know what three of the votes will be."

Asher came to stand near Jean-Claude and us. "They are not traitors, Yvette. To say so is a lie."

"Lies are very interesting things. Don't you think ... Harry?" She held out her hand as if it were a signal and Harry the bartender joined her. I didn't think I could be surprised anymore tonight. I was wrong.

"I see that you know Harry," Yvette said.

"The police are looking for you, Harry," I said.

"I know," he said. At least he had trouble meeting my eyes. Didn't make me feel much better, but a little.

"I knew Harry was one of your line," Jean-Claude said, "but he is truly one of yours."

"
Oui
."

"What is the meaning of this, Yvette?" the Traveler said.

"Harry leaked the information to those awful fanatics so they would kill monsters."

"Why?" the Traveler asked.

"My question exactly," I said.

"My master is frightened of change, like many of the old ones. Making us legal is the most sweeping change we've ever been threatened with. He fears it. He wants it stopped."

"Like Oliver," I said.

"
Exactement
."

"But the vampire killings didn't stop it," I said. "If anything, it's given the pro-vamp lobby a boost."

"But now," she said, "we shall have our revenge, a revenge so bloody and awful that it will turn everyone against us."

"You cannot do this," the Traveler said.

"Padma has given me the key. The Master of the City is weak, his link to his servants weaker still. He would be easily killed now if someone would challenge him."

"You," the Traveler said, "you could challenge Jean-Claude, but you could never be Master of the City, Yvette. You will never have enough power on your own to be a master vampire. Your master's power has made you try to rise above your station."

"It is true that I will never be a master, but there is a master here who hates Jean-Claude and his servant. Asher." She said his name like it was planned.

He looked at her, but he seemed startled. Whatever she planned, he didn't know about it. He stared down at Jean-Claude. "You want me to kill him while he is too weak to fight?"

"Yes," she said.

"No," Asher said, "I do not want Jean-Claude's place, not like this. Beating him in a far duel is one thing, but this is ... treachery."

"I thought you hated him," Yvette said.

"I do, but honor means something to me."

"Implying I suppose that it doesn't to me?" She shrugged. "You're right. If I could be master of this city, I would do it. But I could live another thousand years and I will never be a master. But it is not honor that stops you. It's her." She pointed at me. "There must be some alchemy in you that I do not see, Anita. You bewitch every vampire that comes near you and every shapeshifter."

"You've had a big taste and don't seem too taken with me," I said.

"My tastes run to things even more exotic than you, animator."

"If Asher will not take the city as Master, then you cannot control the city's vampires. You cannot make them do some terrible deed to the humans," the Traveler said.

"I did not trust Asher's hatred to make our plan work. It would have been useful to have control of the city's vampires but it is not necessary. The carnage has already begun," Yvette said.

We were all silent, staring at her, all of us thinking one thing. I said it out loud. "What do you mean, it's already begun?"

"Tell them, Warrick," she said.

He shook his head.

She sighed. "Fine, I will tell them. Warrick was a holy warrior before I found him. He could call the fire of God to his hands, couldn't you?"

He wouldn't look at any of us. He stood there, this huge figure in shining white, head down like a little boy who's been caught playing hooky.

"You set the fires in New Orleans and San Francisco, and here. Why no fires in Boston?" I asked.

"I told you I began to feel stronger the longer I was away from our shared master. In Boston I was still weak. It wasn't until New Orleans that I felt God's grace return to me for the first time in nearly a thousand years. I was drunk on it at first. I was deeply ashamed that I burned down a building. I did not mean to, but it felt so wonderful, so pure."

"I caught him at it," Yvette said. "I told him to do it other places, everywhere we went. I told him to kill people, but even torture wouldn't make him do that."

He did look up then. "I made sure no one was injured."

"You're a pyrokinetic," I said.

He frowned. "I was given a gift from God. It was the first sign of his favor to return to me. Before, I think I feared the Holy Fire. Feared it would destroy me. But I do not fear my own destruction now. She wishes me to use God's gifts for evil use. She wanted me to burn down your stadium with all the people inside tonight."

I said, "Warrick, what have you done?"

He whispered, "Nothing."

Yvette heard him. She was suddenly beside us, white skirts swinging. She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "The entire point to burning the other buildings was to leave a trail of evidence that would culminate in tonight's little sacrifice. A little burnt offering to our master. You burned the stadium as we planned."

He shook his head, blue eyes wide, but not frightened.

She hit him hard enough to leave her hand in a red outline on his cheek. "You holy-rolling bastard. You answer to the same master that I answer to. I will rot the skin from your bones for this."

Warrick stood very straight. You could see him preparing for the torment to come. He stood shining and white and he looked like a holy warrior. There was a peace in his face that was lovely to look upon.

Yvette's power surged forward and I got just the faintest backwash. But Warrick stood there untouched, pure. Nothing happened. Yvette turned to all of us. "Who is helping him? Who is protecting him from me?"

I realized what was happening. "No one's helping him, Yvette," I said. "He is a master vampire and you can't hurt him anymore."

"What are you talking about? He is mine. Mine to do with as I see fit. He has always been mine."

"Not anymore," I said.

Warrick smiled and it was beatific. "God has freed me from you, Yvette. He has finally forgiven me for my fall from grace. My lusting after your white flesh that led me to hell. I am free of it. I am free of you."

"No," she said. "No!"

"It seems our brother council member was limiting Warrick's powers," the Traveler said. "As he was giving you power, Yvette, he was keeping it from Warrick."

"This is not possible," she said. "We will burn this city to the ground and take credit for it. We will show them we are monsters."

"No, Yvette," Warrick said. "We will not."

"I don't need you for this," she said. "I can be monster enough on my own. I'm sure there is a reporter out there somewhere that I can embrace. I'll rot in front of his cameras, on him. I will not fail our master. I will be the monster he wants us to be. The monsters we truly are." She held out her hand to Harry. "Come, let us go find victims in very public places."

"We cannot allow this," the Traveler said.

"No," Padma said. He pushed to his feet with Gideon and Thomas's help. "We cannot allow this."

"No," Warrick said, "we cannot allow her to tempt anyone else. It is enough."

"No, it is not enough. It will never be enough. I will find someone to take your place at my side, Warrick. I can make another of you. Someone who will serve me for all time."

He shook his head slowly. "I cannot allow you to steal another man's soul in my place. I will not ransom another man into the hell of your embrace."

"I thought it was hell you feared," Yvette said. "Centuries of worry that you'll roast in punishment for your crimes." She pouted at him, exaggerating her voice. "Centuries of listening to you whine about your purity and your fall from grace, and the punishment that awaited you."

"I no longer fear my punishment, Yvette."

"Because you think you've been forgiven," she said.

He shook his head. "Only God knows if I am truly forgiven, but if I am to be punished, then I will have earned it. As we all have. I cannot allow you to put another in my place."

She came to him, trailing fingers across his white tunic. I lost sight of her behind his broad back, and when she came back around she was rotting. She trailed decaying hands down his white suit leaving black and green globs, slimy trails like obscene slugs. She laughed at him with a face covered in sores.

Richard whispered, "What is happening to her?"

"Yvette's happening," I said.

"You'll return to France with me. You'll continue to serve me even though you're a master now. If anyone would make such a sacrifice, it is you, Warrick."

"No, no," he said. "If I were truly strong and worthy of God's grace, then perhaps I would return with you, but I am not that strong."

She wrapped her rotting arms around his waist and smiled up at him. Her body was running to ruin, leaking dark fluids over her white dress. Her rich pale hair was drying out before our eyes, turning to crinkling straw. "Then kiss me, Warrick, one last time. I must find your replacement before dawn."

He encircled her with his white robed arms, hugging her against his tall body. "No, Yvette, no." He stared down at her and there was something almost like tenderness on his face. "Forgive me," he said. He held his hands out in front of him.

Blue fire sprang from his hands, a strange pale color, paler even than gas flame.

Yvette turned her rotting face to look behind her at the fire. "You wouldn't dare," she said.

Warrick closed his arms around her. Her dress caught first. She screamed, "Don't be stupid, Warrick! Let me go!"

He held on, and when the fire hit her flesh she went like she'd been doused in kerosene. She burned with a blue light. She screamed, and struggled, but he had her pinned to his chest. She couldn't even beat at the flames with her hands.

The fire bathed Warrick in a nimbus of blue, but he didn't burn. He stood there yellow and white surrounded in blue fire, and he did look like a saint. Something holy and wonderful and terrible to behold. He stood there shining and Yvette began to blacken and peel in his arms. He smiled at us. "God has not forsaken me. Only my fear kept me in thrall to her all these years."

Yvette twisted in his arms, tried to get away, but he held her tight. He dropped to his knees, bowing his head while she fought him. She burned, skin peeling back from her bones, and still she screamed. The stench of burning hair and cooking flesh filled the room, but there was almost no smoke, just heat building. Making everyone in the room move back from them. Finally, mercifully, Yvette stopped moving, stopped screaming.

I think Warrick was praying while she shrieked and writhed and burned. The blue flames roared almost to the ceiling, then changed color. They became pure yellow-orange, the color of ordinary flame.

I remembered McKinnon's story of how the firebug had burned once the fire changed color. "Warrick, Warrick, let her go. You'll burn with her."

Warrick's voice came one last time. "I do not fear God's embrace. He demands sacrifice, but he is merciful." He never screamed. The fire began to eat at him, but he never made a sound. In that silence we heard a different voice. A high-pitched screaming, low and wordless, pitiless, hopeless. Yvette was still alive.

Someone finally asked if there was a fire extinguisher. Jason said, "No, there isn't." I looked at him across the room, and he met my gaze. We stared at each other and I knew that he knew exactly where the fire extinguisher was. Jean-Claude, whose hand I was still holding, knew where it was. Hell, I knew where it was. None of us went running. We let her burn. We let them both burn. Warrick I would have saved if I could have, but Yvette -- Burn, baby, burn.