Free Black Arts: A Jane Yellowrock Novel by Faith Hunter

something like longing as he nestled the boy’s head on one shoulder and the sleep-limp body across his barrel chest. EJ’s arm came up and he hugged his father in his sleep, his lips making several smacking sounds as he adjusted his position. “I’ll bring up Angie. When you hear Bitsa start up in the street, you can reset the wards.”
    “What’s up?” Eli asked. I hadn’t heard his door open and his voice came from the shadows. “Going somewhere?”
    “Yes,” I said shortly. Once upon a time and not so long ago, I could come and go with no problems. Now it was like a theater production. I half expected someone to shout, “Lights, positions, aaaaaaand action .” But then I realized my tone might have been rude, and added, “Leo called. It’s okay. Go back to bed.”
    I made my way back down the stairs, brought up Angie, and returned to the ground floor, where I opened the safe room door, hidden behind a bookshelf that moved on rolling hinges. The safe room was once used by Leo and his heir as a secret lair for their daytime trysts. Back then it had only one opening, through the floor from underneath the house, and was furnished with a bed and expensive sheets. The bed was still there, though now it was covered with sharp, shiny things and things that go bang and shoot, to kill big bad uglies. I chose a nine-millimeter semiautomatic handgun and two blades, strapped them on, and closed the door on its silent hinges.
    Not speaking to anyone else, I took the side door, zipping my jacket as I walked. I helmeted up and pushed Bitsa down the narrow drive, unlocked the tall wrought-iron gate with the fleur-de-lis at the top, and relocked it behind me. I kick-started my bike and headed off to vamp HQ, face shield up, out of the way, so I could take in the morning scents. I could have walked, but arriving on foot was not nearly as impressive as the growl of a Harley, and with vamps and their minions, style is everything.
    The gate opened as I tooled down the street, which was against protocol, but then I saw Wrassler in the shadows, heavily armed and ready for action, with low-light goggles in place. The security guy, muscle-bound and tough as nails, could surely see my face, and I lifted a finger to acknowledge him. He raised the goggles, lifted a finger in return, and closed the gates after me. I left the helmet on Bitsa and took the stairs to the front door of the white stucco-and-stone-faced building, my hip-length braid bouncing against my backside.
    The door opened before I had to announce myself on the intercom and I strolled through the outer doors and into the bulletproof glass breezeway. Two black-suited unfamiliar blood-servants nodded greetings to me, standing at the tables in the breezeway, and I placed my weapons in the black resin trays on top. It was Security 101, protocols I had instituted, and I studied the newbies and their demeanor as I complied with my own rules. They could have been twins, perfect as bookends, Caucasian, nondescript, brown hair cut short. Both moved like former military, in top physical and mental shape, each about five foot ten, buff and somehow fast-looking, and they clearly had both been through the meet-and-greet lecture I had helped to prepare. They looked tough, yet managed to smile and come across as happy to see me.
    Without being asked, I assumed the position and let one of the guys pat me down. The procedures didn’t take long. I had brought only enough weapons to fight off and incapacitate or kill two vamps if they decided to attack me in the streets. I have enemies with long memories. Of course, if enough vamps decided to attack me at once, I’d be brought down by sheer numbers. Idly, I wondered how many bloodsucking enemies I had in the Crescent City. I ran out of fingers in my halfhearted count. I waited as my weapons were taken inside and locked away in the weapons safe I’d had installed in the nook near the front door.
    “This way, Miss Yellowrock.” My