Unbound

It hadn’t been hard to switch himself and Becca with the original couple for this float. Just a few flashes from his eyes, and those people were happily drinking rum instead of playing Christine and the Phantom. None of the other actors argued, either. There were days when it was good to be a vampire.

Perched as she was on the fake balcony of the float, Becca had a bird’s-eye view of the people up and down the streets. This parade went all through the Quarter, and in their costumes, even Ralmiel would be hard-pressed to recognize either of them. Becca was as anonymous as Bones could make her, having no idea that, subconsciously, she was scanning faces in the crowd looking for Delphine.

After lip-synching a snippet from “Music of the Night” with Becca, Bones jumped down and walked around the outside of the float. This kept Becca’s attention where it should be; away from him, and on the faces upturned at her. If that deviated from the scheduled act for the float, so be it. It was only three days until Fat Tuesday. Soon the LaLauries would finish their murderous scavenging and leave the city. There were more important things at stake than following a parade script.

It was after eleven at night, which meant the crowds were at their peak. The parade was halfway down Bourbon Street when Becca suddenly stopped waving and flinging beads. Her eyes took on a glazed look as the directive Bones had instilled in her a week ago kicked in and bore results.

“The woman from that night. There she is.”

Becca didn’t even seem to be aware that she’d spoken. Bones swung his gaze in the direction Becca was staring, cursing the crush of people around him. There was a sea of faces, half of them female, and every third of those with dark hair. He jumped up to where Becca was, muttering, “Show me.”

Becca ignored everything around her, fixated on the directive Bones had compelled in her before: find the woman from that night. With a stiff gesture, she pointed into the crowd. Bones searched the faces ahead of them, looking for that faint, telltale luminance of undead flesh.

A woman about ten meters ahead turned around. Her hair was black and curly, her smile was wide, and her beautiful features were set off by pale, perfect skin.

Delphine.

Delphine noticed him, too. At first her eyes flicked over him disinterestedly, but then she paused. Narrowed her gaze. And turned around and began walking away.

“Stay here,” Bones ordered Becca, reaching inside his coat to pull out a large, curved knife. The crowd gasped, thinking it was part of the act. He ignored them as he jumped down, roughly shoving people out of his path.

Her dark head slipped below the crowd as she ducked and vanished from his sight. Bones increased his pace, almost throwing people to the side. Soon the police would notice the disturbance, but he didn’t care. His attention was focused on one goal. Don’t let Delphine escape.

He glimpsed her again, darting quickly through people with her head lowered. Delphine glanced over her shoulder, and their eyes met once more. She smiled, lovely and evil. Then she punched the person closest to her and ran.

Bones gave up pretending to be human. He chased after Delphine with all his supernatural speed. In the next moment, he was upon the young man Delphine had struck. The man was on his knees, blood pouring out between hands clutched to his stomach. She’d punched him hard enough to tear right through the bloke’s guts. It was a mortal injury—unless Bones stopped to save him.

He made his decision in an instant and kept going. It was worth the sacrifice of one innocent victim to save countless others. Delphine had underestimated her hunter by thinking this would secure her escape.

Another burst of speed brought him closer. Delphine was fast, but he was quicker. Savage anticipation coursed through him. His hand clenched on his knife. Almost there…

Just as Bones was nearly upon her, an arrow ripped through his chest, bringing an explosion of pain. He roared as he tore it out, plowing through people well below eye level to make his heart a far harder target. Ralmiel. He’d kill the sod for his wretched timing.

Another arrow landed in his back, missing his heart again, but showing Ralmiel hadn’t given up. The silver burned, yet Bones didn’t slow to pull it out. He couldn’t risk losing Delphine, pain be damned.

Every person he jostled by in the crowd felt like he was giving the arrow a good twist, however. Bones gritted his teeth and continued on, cursing the people in his way, the blaring music, the bloody beads, the myriad smells that made Delphine impossible to track by scent, and the Cajun hitter determined to mount him on his trophy wall.

Bones caught another arrow to the neck, skewering him clean through and spinning him around in rage. Blast it all, Ralmiel would get lucky with one of his shots soon, and Bones couldn’t kill Delphine if he was dead himself.