Page 6

“Brother, I feel like I’m slowly dying in Dacia.”

“As opposed to quickly dying out there?”

Howquickly? He’d warned her of this. Even Lothaire had mentioned it. Calamities didn’t get much graver than this.

She needed to send a message to Dacia. Loa could help! Yes, with the assistance of her family, Mina could figure out how to fix her predicament. She teleported to the Commercenary’s emporium. During the few times Mina had swallowed her pride to go swallow cold blood, the store had been open all through the night.

She arrived to find the lights off, the shutters drawn.What is happening?She darted her gaze around. Where to go? What to do?

Mina was friendless, cut off from her family, and cursed with sickness. Her arm hurt worse, and her body felt heated.

She’d read about the plague in an obscure text in Dacia’s library. The author had speculated that, while the illness wasn’t lethal in itself, females grew red-eyed and frenzied to drink others. The Horde had been forced to eradicate them once they’d grown “rabid for blood,” killing everything in sight, from their own mates and offspring to entire mortal outposts.

Insatiable and insensible—as far from a logical Dacian as could be.I’d rather die.

With consternation, she gazed up at the amber hunter’s moon. Before tonight, she’d never seen a full one. The sight of it had mesmerized her, the globe abundant with power, like a female readying for birth.

Now it appeared indifferent as she rocked on her feet and the sky spun and spun. . . .

Her hand found her sword, and the sky stopped. Mina was also strong and capable. She would find Loa, then returnto Dacia. Somehow she would discover a cure. Only a brave, rational female could navigate such a fate.

Straightening her shoulders, she struck out onto the streets of New Orleans to locate her ally.

As she passed tourist haunts and taverns, she forced herself to slow her pace. A distant fey ancestor had graced her with abundant speed—and pointed ears—but Mina needed to blend in. Mortals packed the French Quarter; some of them were even sober.

The few lucid ones stopped and stared at her: a female with a sword and a slashed and bloody sleeve. When she came upon a closed clothing shop, she paused to view the wares in the window and decided on a quick detour.

Tracing inside, she surveyed the offerings. Every shirt was printed with some brow-raising message, so she changed into the least offensive one in a long-sleeved version, then kept moving. . . .

For hours as she searched for Loa or a friendly-looking Lorean, the moon followed her, arcing across the sky.

Keeping her gaze alert, Mina hastened past the other immortals she encountered in the Lore-rich city. Most were demons—some demonarchies were good, but many weren’t.Best not to risk an encounter.

She turned another corner to find four tall, muscular males heading down the street in her direction. They sang a melodic song, their accents a rumbling burr. When they caught sight of her scouting an alleyway, they all froze.

One with a scar on his face murmured, “A leech on the hunt, with her eyes flickering from red to blue as we speak.”

Flickering red? Was the plague marking her appearance in mere hours? She’d just turned fully immortal this year, hadn’t built up centuries of Lorean strength.

Another added, “Female or no’, those eyes mean you’ve got to go. Shame; I’m a fan of your shirt.”

She glanced down at the words emblazoned across her chest and grumbled, “It was the only one without curse words.”

Their claws and fangs lengthened, their eyes turning ice blue. Werewolves! Natural-born enemies of Horde vampires, they were the strongest sentient creatures in the Lore.

As an enemy of the Horde herself, she agreed with their mission. “I’m not a Horde vampire,” she said in a ringing voice to her new opponents, her training-yard boldness in full force.

That scarred Lykae, the presumed alpha among them, said, “You’re hunting humans in our territory during the night of a full moon? Death wish, lass? We can oblige.”

“I’m not hunting. I mean, I am in a way. I’m searching for someone.” When they edged closer, she considered brandishing her sword but decided against a slaughter of wolves. “I don’t want to hurt you gentlemen.”

They shared a laugh.

“Do you no’?” the leader said. “That’s no’ been our experience with your kind. Doona make this harder than it needs to be. Now, lads!”

They sprang as one with claws bared; she evaded their grasp, tracing across the Quarter to leave them far behind. Frustrated howls rang out from miles away, but she knew they’d be prowling for her throughout this maze of streets for the rest of the night.

Press on, Mina.Her steps led her down to the waterfront. Along the churning Mississippi, she found a trio of females who smelled like water nymphs. “You there!” Mina called. “Are you Loreans?”