Free Black Arts: A Jane Yellowrock Novel by Faith Hunter Page A

frisker opened the inner doors into the marble-floored foyer. The smell of mixed vamp, blood-servants, and human blood hit me like a landslide. It was the stench of a funeral home: herbal and floral scents—dry and desiccated—all the mixed blood, some old and some brand-new. Beast’s ear tabs twitched, and I opened my mouth so she could taste/smell it all. She chuffed with reaction, whether liking the scent blend or not, I couldn’t tell. But I could feel her desire for Leo as she automatically parsed his scent signature out from among the others and breathed it deep. The binding on her pulled hard at me as she pushed me to go find her master and crawl into bed with him. Not gonna happen, I thought at her.
    She spat in reply and hissed, showing her teeth, but backed away, into the deeps of my mind.
    “I can find my way,” I said to the guard, testing.
    “No, ma’am. It’s our pleasure to provide you escort.”
    “Nice. Names?”
    “Steven, with a V , Locke, with an E , and Stephen, with a PH , Hope.”
    “Mmmm.” I stuck my hands in my pockets and followed Steven-with-a- V down the hallway and up the stairs. “Steven,” I said, “not to quibble, but if I had a weapon still on me, say a garrote, I could bring you down fast and get your weapon. Suggestions?”
    Steven-with-a- V stopped and gestured me forward, to walk beside him, amusement evident on his face at the thought of a lean, leggy female taking him down. “Yeah, that works. Unless there are more than one visitor. Then maybe two escorts?” Steven nodded and I said, “I’ll adjust the protocols. Thanks.” I knew all that stuff, and had already formed my own opinions, but working with the guys meant including them in the routine changes. Now, when I changed the paperwork, Steven-with-a- V would be able to say something like “Yeah. We discussed it. I suggested the change. Yellowrock’s not bad for a chick. Even if she did imply she could take me with a garrote.” Cue manly laughter at the little woman.
    He knocked on a door and opened it, showing me through before closing the door behind me. The papery, peppery scent of Leo flooded my nostrils and reached deep inside me, wrapping the silvered chain of the binding in an iron fist. Warmth flooded me. Beast sat up and looked out through my eyes, taking a breath and analyzing the scents. Leo’s was heated with the smell of anise, old paper, and ink made of leaves and berries. Good vampire smell , she thought at me. I wanted to sigh, but kept it in, and shoved down on her to show her that I was alpha, not her. There would be no mating with Leo.
    I walked down the short wide foyer into the room beyond. The office of the Master of the City had been rebuilt in the last few months, and once again looked just as it had the first time I was here. It was a windowless inner room: the walls were hung with tapestries and heavy drapery; Oriental rugs in every shade were scattered over the floors. Not that long ago, one rug had been heavy with werecat blood. That one was gone, probably with the cops and later stolen away by the vamps. Cops had a hard time hanging on to evidence when vampires were involved.
    The room was chilly, even with the hickory wood fire, something the old ones all seemed to like, probably for the ambience of their own time as humans. The bookshelves around the fireplace were new, filled with antique books, and hiding two no-longer-secret escape passageways. I’d been hard on Leo’s secret-keeping.
    The furniture was wood, some hand-carved, some burled, others with gilt that glinted in the firelight and lamplight. Wingback chairs were around a small table, and the desk was so old it might have been hand-carved for a Spanish royal in colonial times. A thin laptop was open on it, in front of a modern ergonomic desk chair, the armoires locked behind it. They did double duty as file cabinets.
    There was a chaise longue in the back of the office, a fancy one with tufted gold velvet upholstery