Free Cat Tales by Faith Hunter Page B

food.”
    “I brought you some Popeyes chicken, biscuits, and sides. A gallon of tea. Hope you like it sweet.”
    “Yes. I’m starving. Can I eat while you work?”
    “No. So eat fast. And we have to talk. I need to tell you how the spell works so you can pick the right time to . . . to kill her.” Loriann placed a bucket of chicken at his side, and he dug in, listening, wondering at himself and at the way he could plan the death of an insane, undead monster with such enthusiasm.
    Loriann was almost done with the tats. Around his right bicep was a circlet of something that looked like barbed wire but was really twisted vines in a dark green ink. Interspersed throughout the vines were claws and talons, recurved big-cat claws and raptor talons, some with small drops of blood on the tips—blood from Isleen and from his own body, mixed with some cat blood and scarlet dye, the mixture meant to bind his body to the vampire once the spell was complete. On his left shoulder, following the line of his collarbone, down across his left pec, down from his shoulder to his upper arm, and almost to his spine in back, was a mountain lion. He was a tawny beast, with darker markings on his face, body, and tail, his amber eyes staring. He was crouched as if to watch for unwary prey, the clublike tail curved up around his shoulder blade. Behind his predator’s face peeked a smaller cat with pointed ears and curious, almost amused eyes, lips pulled up in a snarl to reveal predator teeth—a bobcat, snuggled up to the larger cat. It was beautiful work. But it was a spell woven into Rick’s body.
    “The gold in the eyes is pure gold foil, mixed with my grandmother’s inks. It shouldn’t infect or cause you trouble. And as long as you kill Isleen before the spell is finished, the eyes won’t glow. If the binding is completed, you’ll know it, because the eyes, all four of them, will catch the light and glimmer just like gold jewelry. Either way the tattoos won’t fade, not ever. And you probably can’t get them lasered off. Not with the dyes my grandmother used—” Loriann stopped and stood unmoving, her body almost vibrating with fear, exhaustion, and excitement. She met his eye Ce m bos, hers dark ringed with fatigue and blood loss from feeding the vampire. “You’ll save Jason?”
    “We don’t know where he’ll be. In a stall. Hanging from the rafters in a cage. I’ll kill Isleen. Whoever is closest will save Jason.”
    “Okay.” Loriann licked her lips. “One last thing. I called Katie. A guy answered. I told him about you. About Isleen and Jason. He was pretty pissed.”
    Hope shot through Rick. He could feel his own heart thud in his chest. His uncle Tom answered the phone at Katie’s Ladies. “And?”
    “I told him to expect a text message with directions. And I programmed the message with directions on how to get here.” She pulled out a cell phone and snapped it open. “It’s in my phone, waiting. As soon as Isleen arrives, and I see that my brother is still alive, I’ll hit send. If I can. I don’t know—”
    With a pop of displaced air, Isleen appeared. She held a small boy in the crook of her arm, his long legs dangling. The boy was asleep or unconscious but breathing. Isleen had fed again, and the front of her dress was soaked with blood. Rick had no idea how much of it was the boy’s.
    Loriann made a helpless moan of fear and longing and horror, one hand outstretched to the child. With her other hand, she pressed a button on the phone and sent the text message. Rick closed his eyes for a moment, hiding his relief. Help was coming. If he could keep them all alive until it arrived.
    He focused on the vampire. Her hair was up in curls and waves, with a little hat and a scrap of netting perched on top, like something a woman from the eighteen hundreds might have worn. When she set the boy down, he saw that the lace dress had a bustle in back. And she wore pointed lace shoes. Strings of pearls were