Bad Blood

The old man was on his narrow front porch, the glowing end of a cheroot lighting up a patch of his face. An assault rifle rested on his knees, and a long-faced hound curled around his booted feet. “That you, Doc?”

“Yes, sir.” Doc prayed the baby kept quiet. He liked Slim Jim and didn’t want to involve him in any unnecessary trouble. “How are you tonight?”

“Jess fine.” He pushed up his Florida Gators ball cap to scratch his forehead. “That pretty little blonde thing come out with you?”

“Chrysabelle? No, sir, she’s on other business.”

Slim Jim nodded. “Quite a looker, that one. You should bring her around again sometime.”

“Will do.” Doc pointed toward the line of airboats out at Slim Jim’s dock. Aliza’s was parked at the far end. “How long ago did Aliza come through here?”

“Earlier today. Strange her being gone so long but”—he shrugged—“I keep outta other people’s business. You need a boat?”

“Sure do.”

“Got anything to do with the old witch?”

Doc suppressed a smile. Interesting question for someone who kept out of other people’s business. “I have a delivery for her daughter.” That sounded plausible, especially since he used to deliver Dominic’s drugs to her on a regular basis.

Slim Jim’s small eyes opened a little wider. “The stone girl?”

“She’s not stone anymore.” The compulsion came on strong again. It wanted him to stop talking and move. He flicked a talon out on one finger and dug it into his thigh. The pain helped fight the urge.

“You don’t say. Haven’t been out that way myself lately. Most my hunting trips been taking me down toward Deadman’s Key and thataway. Snakes down there is something awful.” He grinned, showing off a missing tooth. “Money in skins is better than ever.” He shifted to scratch the hound’s back end. “And Aliza said she’d take her own deliveries with her when she got back.” He stood, hoisting the gun over one shoulder. His other meaty hand went into the pocket of his overalls, coming back out with a set of keys. He tossed them to Doc. “Last one on the right. Y’all can pay me when you get back.” He sat down, but the dog got up, gave Doc a hard stare, then woofed twice before lying down again.

Go. Now.

Assuming he would be able to come back. “Thanks, Slim Jim. Appreciate it.” Keys in hand, Doc headed for the boats. He climbed aboard, then eased the backpack off and nestled it down between the metal ribs of the boat’s hull. He unzipped the pack and checked on the baby. Sleeping. He guessed. He thought about checking for a pulse but wasn’t sure a half-vampire child would have one. Satisfied, he got the electric engine going, the carbon fiber blades whirring softly to life, before hopping into the driver’s seat.

He glanced back at the cabin. A small light glimmered through the window, and only the dog remained on the porch, staring out at Doc as if watching him.

Doc turned back around and moved the boat forward. Maybe the dog was watching. Maybe the dog wasn’t just a dog. Who knew? He had a half-vampire, half-fake-comarré child on board and his mind was being controlled by a witch.

Nothing was what it seemed anymore.

Forward.

“I hear you,” he said to whoever was in his head. And I’m going to kill you if given the chance. But that last thought he kept to himself. Or tried to. If Aliza was dead, whichever one of her coven had taken over must be controlling him. Witches had magic, but varcolai had strength and speed and a great need for revenge.

It wasn’t going to be a fair fight. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

The Glades whizzed by with all the usual hellish sounds and smells. How anyone could live here was beyond him. Soon, Aliza’s house and the houses of her coven appeared on the horizon. A new house sat to the left of hers. He squinted at it. From what he could see, it looked complete. How could anything have been built that fast?

He slowed the boat and the compulsion took over again, stronger than it had before but still not as strong as when he was leopard. Following the commands inside his head, he docked the boat at Aliza’s, scooped up the baby in the backpack, and climbed the stairs to the house.

He opened the screen door and went in, past the kitchen and into the living room. It was empty.

Except for a demon, trapped in the base of an aquarium. The thing reared to life when Doc walked in. Recognition filled him with dread. Not just any demon. The Castus he’d seen at Tatiana’s. Maybe the one Creek had just tangled with. Bitter fear soured Doc’s gut. This was way more than he’d bargained for. The Castus pointed a talon-tipped finger at him. “What’s in the bag, shifter?”

Doc backed up. “Nothing.”

“I smell new blood.”

Of course he did. “That’s probably because—”

Evie came in from another room. “Shut up, Doc. You too, demon.” She held a small undulating ball of smoke in one palm. The compulsion. He pushed against it and while it was still there, it was definitely weaker. “You.” She jerked her chin at Doc, then the thumb of her free hand back toward the room she’d just left. “Inside. Quietly.” She glanced at the bag on his shoulder.

So she didn’t want the demon to know about the kid. Too bad. Doc nodded and dropped the bag off his shoulder. The jostling caused the baby to stir. The demon’s gaze riveted to the backpack. Working quickly, Doc got his fingers inside the zippered opening and yanked it down, revealing the child, who immediately started to cry. “Don’t you want to make sure the kid’s okay? After all, who knows how much a half-vampire, half-comarré baby can take?”