Anita Blake 4 - Lunatic Cafe

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  I had an urge to whirl and say boo, but fought it off. I had a feeling they were all staring at me with neutral inhuman eyes, and I didn't want to see it.

  Raina led us to a closed door at the back of the dining room. She pushed it open and motioned us through with a theatrical wave of her arm. Irving just walked through. I walked through but kept my eyes on her. I was nearly close enough for her to have hugged me. Close enough that with her reflexes she could probably take me.

  Lycanthropes are just faster than a normal human. It isn't mind tricks like with vampires. They are just flat out better. I wasn't sure how much better in human form, though. Staring up into Raina's smiling face, I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.

  We stood in a narrow hallway. There was a door at either end, one showing the cold night through its glass window, the other closed, a question mark.

  Raina closed the door behind us, leaning on it. She seemed to collapse against it, head hanging down, hair spilling forward.

  "Are you all right?" I asked.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at me.

  I gasped. I couldn't help myself.

  She was gorgeous. Her cheekbones were high and sculpted. Her eyes wider and more centered in her face. She looked like what might have been her sister, a family resemblance but not the same person.

  "What did you just do?"

  She gave that rich, bedroom laugh again. "I am alpha, Ms. Blake. I can do a great many things that most shifters cannot."

  I was willing to bet that. "You moved your bones around, on purpose, like do-it-yourself cosmetic surgery."

  "Very good, Ms. Blake, very good." Her amber-brown eyes flashed to Irving. The smile left her face. "Do you still insist on this one being at the meeting?"

  "Yes, I do."

  Her lips pursed, as though she'd tasted something sour. "Marcus said to ask, then to bring you." She shrugged, and stood away from the door. She was taller by about three inches. I wished I'd paid more attention to her hands. Had they changed, too?

  "Why the body sculpting?" I asked.

  "The other form is my day form. This is real."

  "Why the disguise?"

  "In case I have to do something nefarious," she said.

  Nefarious?

  She stalked down the hall towards the other closed door. Her walk was a gliding, athletic movement like a big cat's. Or would that be big wolf's?

  She knocked on the door. I heard nothing, but she opened the door. She stood there, arms crossed over her stomach, cradling her breasts, smiling at us. I was beginning not to like Raina's smiles.

  The room was a banquet hall with cloth-covered tables grouped in a horseshoe. A raised platform with four chairs and a lectern closed the mouth of the horseshoe. Two men stood on the platform. One was at least six feet tall, slender but muscled like a basketball player. His hair was black, cut short with a matching finger-thin mustache and goatee beard. He stood with one hand gripping his opposite wrist. A jock pose. A bodyguard pose.

  He wore a skintight pair of black jeans, and a sweater with a black-on-black design clung to wide shoulders. There was a fringe of dark chest hair just above the scooped neckline. Black tooled cowboy boots and a large blocky watch completed the badass look.

  The other man was no more than five foot seven. His hair was that funny shade of blond that has brown highlights in it, but still manages to be blond. The hair was short but styled and blow-dried, and would have been lovely to look at if it had been a little longer. His face was clean-shaven, square jawed, with a dimple in his chin. The dimple should have made the face look fun, but it didn't. It was a face for rules. Those thin lips were built for saying, my way or else.

  He wore a pale blue linen suit jacket over black pants. A pale blue turtleneck that matched the jacket to perfection completed the outfit. His shoes were black and polished to a shine.

  It had to be Marcus. "Alfred." One word, but it was an order. The bigger man stepped-leaped off the platform. It was a graceful, bounding movement. He moved in a cloud of his own vitality. It rolled and boiled around him almost like heat rising off pavement. You couldn't see it with the naked eye, but you could sure as hell feel it.

  Alfred came at me as though he had a purpose. I put my back to the wall, keeping Raina in sight, along with everybody else. Irving moved back with me. He stood a little away from all of us, but closer to me than anyone.

  I put the trench coat back so the gun showed plainly. "Your intentions better be friendly, Alfred."

  "Alfred," the other man said. One word, even the tone sounded the same, but this time Alfie stopped in his tracks. He stood, staring at me. His eyes weren't neutral, they were hostile. People don't usually dislike me on sight. But hey, I wasn't too thrilled with him, either.

  "We have not offered you violence, Ms. Blake," Marcus said.

  "Yeah, right. Alfie there is contained violence in motion. I want to know what his intentions are before he comes closer."

  Marcus looked at me as if I'd done something interesting. "A very apt description, Ms. Blake. You can see our auras, then?"

  "If that's what you want to call it," I said.

  "Alfred's intentions are not hostile. He will merely search you for weapons. It is standard procedure for nonshifters. It is nothing personal, I assure you."

  The very fact that they didn't want me armed made me want to keep my weapons. Stubbornness, or a strong survival instinct.

  "Maybe I'd agree to being searched if you explained why I'm here first." Stall, until I could decide what to do.

  "We don't discuss business in front of the press, Ms. Blake."

  "Well, I'm not talking to you without him."

  "I will not jeopardize all of us to satisfy idle curiosity." He was still standing on the platform like a general surveying his troops.

  "The only reason I'm here at all is because Irving is a friend. Insulting him isn't going to endear you to me."

  "I do not wish to endear myself to you, Ms. Blake. I wish your aid."

  "You want my help?" I didn't try to keep the surprise out of my voice.

  He gave a brief nod.

  "What kind of help?"

  "He must leave."

  "No," I said.

  Raina pushed away from the wall and stalked around us, just out of reach, but circling like a shark. "Irving's punishment could begin now." Her voice was low and puffing around the edges.

  "I didn't know wolves purred," I said.

  She laughed. "Wolves do a lot of things, as I'm sure you're aware."

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "Oh, come now, woman to woman." She leaned one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed, face friendly. I was betting she could bite my finger off and smile just like that the entire time.

  She bent close as if we were sharing secrets. "Richard is as good as he looks, isn't he?"

  I stared into her amused eyes. "I don't kiss and tell."

  "I'll tell you my juicy tidbit, if you'll tell me yours."

  "Raina, enough." Marcus had moved forward to the edge of the stage. He didn't look happy.

  She gave him a lazy smile. She was baiting him more than me, and enjoying it very much.

  "Irving must leave, and Alfred must search you for weapons. There is no negotiating those two points."

  "I'll make you a deal," I said. "Irving leaves now, but he goes home. No punishment."

  Marcus shook his head. "I have decreed he will be punished. My word is law."

  "Who died and made you king?"

  "Simon," Raina said.

  I blinked at her.

  "He fought and killed Simon. That's who died and made him pack leader."

  Ask a silly question . . . "You want my help, Irving goes free and untouched. No punishment."

  "Don't do this, Anita," Irving said. "You'll just make things worse."

  Raina stayed leaning beside me. Just a little girl talk. "He's right, you know. Right now he's mine to play with, but if you make Marcus really angry h
e'll give him to Alfred. I'll torture his mind and body. Alfred will break him."

  "Irving goes free, no punishment. I stay and let Alfred search me for weapons. Otherwise we walk."

  "Not we, Ms. Blake. You are free to go, but Irving is mine. He will stay, and with or without you he will be taught his lesson."

  "What did he do wrong?" I asked.

  "That is our business, not yours."

  "I'm not going to help you do shit."

  "Then go," he leaped gracefully off the stage, walking towards us as he spoke, "but Irving stays. You are only among us for this one night. He must live with us, Ms. Blake. He cannot afford your bravado."

  The last sentence brought him just a little behind Alfred. Close up there were fine lines around his eyes and mouth, a slackness to the skin of his neck and jaws. I added ten years to his age. Fifties.

  "I can't leave Irving here, knowing what you'll do to him."

  "Oh, you have no idea what we'll do to him," Raina said. "We heal so well." She pushed away from the wall and walked to Irving. She paced round him in a tight circle, shoulder, hip, brushing against him, here and there as she moved. "Even the weakest of us can take so very much damage."

  "What do you want to guarantee Irving's safety?" I asked.

  Marcus looked at me, face careful, neutral. "You promise to aid us, and let Alfred frisk you. He is my bodyguard. You must let him do his job."

  "I can't promise to help you without knowing what it is."

  "Then we have no bargain."

  "Anita, I can take it, whatever they dish out. I can take it. I've done it before."

  "You asked for my protection from Richard, just call it a package deal," I said.

  "You asked her for her protection?" Raina stepped away from him, surprise plain on her pretty face.

  "Just against Richard," Irving said.

  "It's clever," Raina said, "but it does have certain implications."

  "She's not a pack member. It only works on Richard because they're dating," Irving said. He looked a little worried.

  "What implications?" I asked.

  Marcus answered, "To ask pack members for their protection is to acknowledge they are of higher rank without having to fight them. If they give their protection, then you have agreed to help them fight their battles. If they are challenged you are honor bound to aid them."

  I glanced at Irving. He looked ill. "She's not one of us. You can't hold her to the law."

  "What law?" I asked.

  "Pack law," Marcus said.

  "I forfeit her protection," Irving said.

  "Too late," Raina said.

  "You place us in a quandary, Ms. Blake. A pack member has acknowledged you as higher rank than he is. Acknowledged you as dominant. By our laws we must accept that as binding."

  "I can't be a pack member," I said.

  "No, but you can be dominant."

  I knew what the word meant in the real world. Marcus was using it as if it meant more. "What does it mean to be dominant?"

  "It means you can stand as Irving's protector against all comers."

  "No," Irving said. He brushed past Raina and stood in front of Marcus. He stood tall and stared him in the eye. It was not a submissive display.

  "I won't let you use me like this. It's what you intended all along. You knew I'd ask her protection from Richard. You counted on it, didn't you, you smug bastard."

  A low growl trickled out from between Marcus's perfect white teeth. "I would watch my tongue if I were you, youngling."

  "If it offends you, I will cut it out." Alfred's first words were not comforting.

  This was getting out of hand. "Irving is under my protection, Alfred. If I understand the law. You have to go through me to hurt Irving, is that right?"

  Alfred turned cold, dark eyes to me. He nodded.

  "If you kill me, then I can't help Marcus."

  This seemed to puzzle the big fella. Great, confusion to my enemies.

  Marcus smiled. "You have found a flaw in my logic, Ms. Blake. If you truly intend to protect Irving, to the letter of the law, then you would indeed die. No mere human could withstand one of us. Even the lowliest would kill you."

  I let that comment go. Why argue when I was winning anyway?

  "Since you cannot accept challenges, and you won't let us harm Irving, he is safe."

  "Great, now what?"

  "Irving can go, and he will not be harmed. You stay and hear our plea. You may decide to aid us or not, Irving will not suffer for your choice."

  "That's mighty generous of you."

  "Yes, Ms. Blake, it is." There was a look in his eyes that was very serious.

  Raina might play sadistic games. Alfred might hurt you in an eager rush. But Marcus, it was just business. He was a mob boss with fur.

  "Leave us, Irving."

  "I won't leave her."

  Marcus turned on him with a snarl. "My patience is not endless!"

  Irving dropped to his knees, head bowed, spine bent low. It was a submissive display. I grabbed Irving's arm, and lifted him to his feet. "Get up, Irving. The nice werewolf isn't going to hurt you."

  "And why is that, Ms. Blake?"

  "Because Irving's under my protection. If Alfred can't fight me, then you sure as hell can't."

  Marcus threw back his head, and gave a sharp, barking laugh. "You are clever, and brave. Traits we admire." The laughter died from his face, lingering in his eyes like a pleasant dream. "Do not challenge me too openly, Ms. Blake. It wouldn't be healthy."

  The last of the laughter died out of his eyes. I was left staring into human eyes, but there was no one home to talk to. It looked like a human being, talked like a human being, but it wasn't one.

  I dug my fingers into Irving's parka-clad shoulder. "Go on, Irving. Get out of here."

  He touched my arm. "I would never leave you in a tough spot."

  "I'm safe tonight, you're not. Now go, please, Irving."

  I watched the struggle on his face. But finally after another dirty look from Marcus, he left. The door closed and I was alone with three werewolves. Down from four. The night was looking up.

  "Alfred must search you now."

  So much for the night looking up. "Then do it," I said. I just stood there. I didn't put my arms out. I didn't lean against the wall. I wasn't going to help him, not unless he asked.

  He took the Browning, then patted down my arms, legs, even the small of my back. He didn't pat down the front center of my body. Maybe he was being a gentleman, or maybe he was just careless. Whatever, he missed the Firestar. I had eight silver bullets and they didn't know it. The night was looking up.

  Chapter 11

  Marcus took a seat on the platform. Alfred stood just behind him like a good bodyguard. "Join us, Ms. Blake. It may be a long meeting to stand through."

  I didn't want to sit with Alfred at my back, so I moved to the last chair. The empty chair between us looked unsociable, but I was out of Alfred's reach. Safety before good manners.

  Raina sat on Marcus's right, hand on his knee. Marcus sat in the same manner he did everything—rigid. Posture that would have made my Aunt Mattie proud. But he didn't move Raina's hand. In fact, he laid his hand over hers. Love? Solidarity? They didn't strike me as a really compatible couple.

  A woman came through the door. Short blond hair styled and held in place with gel. Her business skirt suit was red with pinkish undertones, like a rose petal. Her white blouse had one of those blousy ties that made the suit seem feminine, and a little silly.

  "Christine, it's good of you to come," Marcus said.

  The woman nodded, and took the seat at the end of the horseshoe of tables, nearest the stage. "What choice did I have? What choice did you give any of us?" she asked.

  "We must have a united front on this, Christine."

  "As long as you're in charge, right?"

  Marcus started to say more but the crowd was growing. People drifted through the door in ones, twos, threes. He let the argument go. They
could argue later, and I was betting they would. The woman's complaint sounded like an old one.

  I recognized one person. Rafael the Rat King. He was tall, dark, and handsome with short-cut black hair, strong Mexican features, and an arrogant expression. He would have looked as stern as Marcus except for his lips. They were soft and sensuous, and ruined some of the effect.

  Rafael nodded at me. I nodded back. He had two wererats with him, in human form. I didn't recognize either of them.

  There were about a dozen people sitting along the tables when Marcus stood and walked to the podium. "My friends, I have asked you here tonight to meet Anita Blake. The vampires call her the Executioner. I believe she can help us."

  "What can a vampire hunter do for us?" This from a tall man who sat alone, chairs on either side acting as walls. He had short white hair, cut in a strange Mia Farrow sixties cut, but gentler. He wore a white dress shirt, pale pink tie, white sport jacket, and cream-colored pants. He looked like the Good Humor man with money. But he had a point.

  "We don't need a human to help us." This from a man who sat with one other. He had hair cut just above his collar, so curly it looked like fur, or maybe . . . Naw. He had thick eyebrows over dark eyes, with heavy, sensual features. The Rat King's lips may have seemed kissable, but this man seemed made for nefarious deeds done in dark places.

  His clothing matched his face. The boots that he had propped on the table were of soft, velvety leather. His pants were of shiny black leather. The shirt he was almost wearing was a muscle tank top that left most of his upper body bare. His right arm was covered from elbow to fingers in leather straps. The knuckles had spikes coming out of them. The hair on his chest was as curly and dark as the hair on his head. A black duster coat was thrown across the table beside him.

  The woman on his right rubbed her cheek along his shoulder as if it were a cat scent marking. Long, dark hair formed waves around her shoulders. What I could see of her outfit looked tight, black, and mostly of leather.

  "We are human here, Gabriel," Marcus said.

  Gabriel made a rude noise. "You believe what you want to, Marcus. But we know what we are, and what she isn't." He pointed at me with his gauntleted fist. It didn't seem a particularly friendly gesture.