Anita Blake 4 - Lunatic Cafe

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  The Coke came in a chilled wineglass, which seemed a little excessive, but it looked nice.

  "The movie's going to start near the end. I don't think you'll have any trouble picking up the plot." He hit the remote control, and the TV screen flickered, jumping from a game show to a bedroom.

  A woman with long brown hair lay on her back in a round bed. She was nude, or at least what I could see of her was nude. Below the waist she was hidden behind the furiously pumping buttocks of a dark-haired man.

  "This is pornography." I didn't even try to keep the disbelief from my voice.

  "It certainly is."

  I glanced at Edward. He was cutting his steak with neat, precise hand movements. He chewed a bite of steak, sipped his wine, and watched the screen.

  I glanced back at the "movie." A second man had joined the couple on the bed. He was taller than the first man, with shorter hair, but beyond that it was a little hard to tell, mainly because I was trying not to look.

  I sat on the edge of Edward's bed with our nice steak dinners, and for the first time felt awkward around Edward. There had never been any sexual tension between us. We might kill each other someday, but we'd never kiss. But I was still in a man's hotel room watching a porno movie, and good girls just didn't do that.

  "Edward, what the hell is going on?"

  He hit the remote control. "Here, a face shot."

  I turned back to the screen. The frozen image stared out at me. It was the second man. It was Alfred.

  "Oh, my, God," I said.

  "You know him?" Edward asked.

  "Yeah." No sense denying it. Alfred was dead. Edward couldn't hurt him anymore.

  "Name?"

  "Alfred. I don't know the last name."

  He hit fast forward. The images on the screen moved at a furious pace, doing intimate things that would have been obscene at any speed. At fast forward it seemed sadder. Ridiculous as well as degrading.

  He hit the pause again. The woman was full face to the camera, mouth open, eyes heavy lidded with sexual languor. Her hair was spread artfully over the silken pillow. It should have been provocative. It managed not to be.

  "Do you know her?"

  I shook my head. "No."

  He hit the button again. "We're near the end."

  "What about the other man?"

  "He wears a face mask throughout."

  The masked man had mounted the woman from behind. His hips cupped her butt, the line of his thigh matching hers. He leaned his upper body over her nude torso, hands massaging the flesh of her upper arms. He seemed to be draping himself on top of her more than anything else. There seemed to be very little sex going on.

  She was supporting his full weight on her hands and knees. Her breath came in pants. A low growl trickled through the room. The camera did a close-up of the man's back. The skin was rippled, as if a hand had rubbed the under surface of his skin, then vanished. More ripples, as if something small were trying to punch its way out.

  A wider-angle shot showed him still draped over the woman. The ripples on his back were growing. You could see things pushing against his skin, movements large enough you could have seen them even if he'd been dressed. Like those I had seen on Jason last night.

  I had to admit this part was fascinating. I'd seen people shapeshift, but never like this. Not in minute detail, not with the loving eye of a camera on it.

  The skin split along his back, and he reared upward, hands hugging her waist, screaming. Clear liquid flowed down his back in a wash that soaked the bed and the woman underneath him.

  The woman gave a little encouragement, moving her buttocks against him, thrusting against him, head bowed to the bed.

  Black fur flowed outward from his back. His hands shot to his sides, spasming. He leaned over her again, hands digging into the bed. The hands were just hands, then those human fingers sliced into the bed, ripping white stuffing from great clawed furrows.

  The man seemed to shrink. The fur flowed faster and faster, almost liquid in its speed. The mask dropped away. The face was the wrong shape for it now. The camera did a close shot of the fallen mask. A bit of art in all this . . . oh, hell. I didn't have a word for it.

  The man was gone. A black leopard mounted the woman and seemed very happy with the arrangement. The leopard bent over the woman, lips spread to reveal glistening teeth. The leopard nipped her back, drawing a small amount of blood. She gave a low moan, a shudder sweeping her body.

  Alfred came back into view. He was still in human form. He crawled up to the bed and kissed the woman. It was a long, complete kiss, full of probing tongues. He rose on his knees, still kissing her, rocking his body with the movements. He seemed very excited to see her.

  His back rippled, and he tore away from her, hands clutching the sheets. The change seemed to go a lot faster for him. The camera did a close-up of one of his hands. Bones slid out of the skin with wet, sucking noises. Muscles and ligaments crawled and rearranged. The skin tore and that same clear liquid poured out. The hand changed into a naked claw before the dark fur flowed over it.

  He stood on bent legs, half wolf, half man, but all male. He threw back his head and howled. The sound had a deep, resonating quality that filled the room.

  The woman looked up at him, eyes wide. The leopard jumped off her, rolling on the bed, for all the world like a big kitten. It rolled itself in the silken sheet, until only its black-furred face peeked out.

  The woman lay on her back, legs spread-eagled. She held out her hands to the wolfman, tongue flicking out along her lips as if she were really enjoying herself. Maybe she was.

  The werewolf thrust into her, and it wasn't gentle. She gave a gasping moan, as if it were the best thing she'd ever felt.

  The woman was making noises. Either she was a very good actor or she was coming close to climax. I wasn't sure which I preferred. Good acting, I think.

  She came with a sound between a scream and a shout of joy. She lay back gasping on the bed, body liquid. The werewolf gave one last shuddering thrust and drew claws down the length of her naked body.

  She screamed then, no acting required. Blood poured down her body in scarlet rivulets. The leopard gave a startled scream and jumped off the bed. The woman put her hands up in front of her face, and the claws smashed her arms to one side. Blood poured, and there was a glimpse of bone in one arm where the claws had torn all the flesh away.

  Her screams were high and continuous, one loud ragged shriek after another, as fast as she could draw air. The werewolf's pointed muzzle lowered towards her face. I had an image of the murder victim's crushed jaw. But he went for her throat. He bit her throat out, spraying a great gout of blood.

  Her eyes stared sightless at the camera, wide and shiny, dull with death. The blood had somehow left her face untouched. The werewolf reared back, blood dripping from its jaws. A gob of blood fell on her staring face, running between her eyes.

  The leopard leaped back onto the bed. It licked her face clean with long, sure strokes of its tongue. The werewolf licked its way down her body, stopping over her stomach. It hesitated, one yellow eye staring at the camera. It began to feed. The leopard joined the feast.

  I closed my eyes, but the sounds were enough. Heavy, wet, tearing sounds filled the room. I heard myself say, "Turn it off." The sounds stopped, and I assumed that Edward had turned the tape off, but I didn't look up to see. I didn't look up until I heard the whir of the tape rewinding.

  Edward cut a bite of steak.

  "If you eat that right now, I will throw up on you."

  He smiled, but he put down his silverware. He looked at me. His expression was neutral, as it was most of the time. I couldn't tell if he'd enjoyed the film or been disgusted by it. "Now you can ask me questions," he said. His voice was like it always was, pleasant, unaffected by external stimuli.

  "Jesus, where did you get that thing?"

  "A client."

  "Why give it to you?"

  "The woman was his daughter."

/>   "Oh, God, please, tell me he didn't watch this."

  "You know he saw it. You know he watched it to the end or why hire me? Most men don't hire people to kill their daughter's lovers."

  "He hired you to kill the two men?"

  Edward nodded.

  "Why did you show this to me?"

  "Because I knew you'd help me."

  "I'm not an assassin, Edward."

  "Just help me identify them. I'll do the rest. Is it all right if I drink some wine?"

  I nodded.

  He sipped his wine. The dark liquid rolled around the glass, looking a lot redder than it had before the movie. I swallowed hard and looked away. I would not throw up. I would not throw up.

  "Where can I find Alfred?"

  "Nowhere," I said.

  He set his wineglass carefully on the tray. "Anita, you disappoint me. I thought you'd help me after seeing what they did to the girl."

  "I'm not being uncooperative. That film is one of the worst things I've ever seen, and I've seen a hell of a lot. You're too late to find Alfred."

  "How too late?"

  "I killed him last night."

  A smile spread across his face, beautiful to behold. "You always make my job easier."

  "Not on purpose."

  He shrugged. "Do you want half the fee? You did do half the work."

  I shook my head. "I didn't do it for money."

  "Tell me what happened."

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  I looked at him. "Because you hunt lycanthropes and I don't want to give someone to you by accident."

  "The wereleopard deserves to die, Anita."

  "I'm not arguing that. Though, technically, he didn't kill the girl."

  "The father wants them both. Do you blame him?"

  "No, I guess I don't."

  "Then you'll help me identify the other man?"

  "Maybe." I stood up. "I need to call someone. I need for someone else to see this film. He might be able to help you more than I could."

  "Who?"

  I shook my head. "Let me see if he'll come first."

  Edward gave a long nod, almost a bow with just his neck. "As you like."

  I dialed Richard's number by heart. I got his machine. "This is Anita, pick up if you're there. Richard, pick up. This is important." No one picked up the phone.

  "Damn," I said.

  "Not home?" Edward asked.

  "Do you have the number for the Lunatic Cafe?"

  "Yes."

  "Give it to me."

  He repeated the number slowly, and I dialed it. A woman picked up the phone. It wasn't Raina. I was thankful for that. "Lunatic Cafe, Polly here, how may I help you."

  "I need to speak with Richard."

  "I'm sorry we don't have any waiters by that name."

  "Look, I was a guest of Marcus's last night. I need to speak with Richard. It's an emergency."

  "I don't know. I mean, like, they're all busy in the back room."

  "Look, get Richard on the phone now."

  "Marcus doesn't like to be disturbed."

  "Polly, is it? I have been on my feet for over thirteen hours. If you do not put Richard on the phone right now, I am going to come down there personally and bust your ass. Am I making myself clear?"

  "Who is this?" She sounded a little miffed, and not in the least afraid.

  "Anita Blake."

  "Oh," she said. "I'll get Richard for you, right away, Anita, right away." There was an edge of panic to her voice that hadn't been there before. She put me on hold. Someone with a sick sense of humor had compiled the Muzak. "Moonlight and Roses," "Blue Moon," "Moonlight Sonata." Every song was a moon theme. We were halfway through "Moon over Miami" when the phone clicked back to life.

  "Anita, it's me. What's wrong?"

  "I'm all right, but I've got something you need to see."

  "Can you tell me what it is?"

  "I know this sounds corny, but not over the phone."

  "You sure you're not just looking for an excuse to see me again?" There was a note of teasing in his voice.

  It had been too long a night. "Can you meet me?"

  "Of course. What's wrong? Your voice sounds awful."

  "I need a hug and to erase the last hour of my life. The first you can take care of when you get here, the second I'll just have to live with."

  "Are you home?"

  "No." I glanced at Edward, putting my hand over the mouthpiece. "Can I give him the hotel room?"

  He nodded.

  I gave Richard the hotel room, and directions. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He hesitated, then said, "What did you say to Polly? She's nearly hysterical."

  "She wouldn't put you on the phone."

  "You threatened her," he said.

  "Yeah."

  "Was it an idle threat?"

  "Pretty much."

  "Dominant pack members don't make idle threats to subordinates."

  "I'm not a pack member."

  "After last night you're a dominant. They're treating you like a rogue dominant lycanthrope."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means when you say you're going to bust someone's ass, they believe you."

  "Oh, sorry."

  "Don't apologize to me, apologize to Polly. I'll be there before you get her calmed down."

  "Don't put her on, Richard."

  "That's what you get for being trigger happy. People get scared of you."

  "Richard . . ." A sobbing female voice came on the line. I spent the next fifteen minutes convincing a crying werewolf that I wasn't going to hurt her. My life was getting too strange, even for me.

  Chapter 19

  Richard was wrong. He didn't knock on the door while I was on the phone calming Polly down. She was so grateful that I had forgiven her for her rudeness, that it was embarrassing. Waves of submissiveness poured out of the phone. I hung up.

  Edward was grinning at me. He had moved to one of the soft chairs. "Did you just spend nearly twenty minutes convincing a werewolf that you weren't going hurt her?"

  "Yes."

  He laughed, a wide, abrupt sound. The smile vanished, leaving a sort of shimmering glow to his face. His eyes glittered with something darker than humor. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but it wasn't pleasant.

  He slid down in the chair, base of his skull resting on the back, hands clasped over his stomach, ankles crossed. He looked utterly comfortable. "How did you come to be the terror of good little werewolves everywhere?"

  "I don't think they're used to people shooting and killing them. At least not on first acquaintance."

  His eyes simmered with some dark joke. "You went in there and killed someone your first night? Hell, Anita, I've been down three times and haven't killed anyone yet."

  "How long have you been in town?"

  He looked at me for a long moment. "Is that an idle question or do you need to know?"

  It had occurred to me that Edward could take out eight lycanthropes and leave no trace. If any human could do it, it was him.

  "I need to know," I said.

  "A week, tomorrow." His eyes had gone empty. They were as cool and distant as any of the shapeshifters' last night. There's more than one way to become a predator. "Of course, you'll have to take my word for it. You can check with registration, but I could have changed hotels."

  "Why would you lie to me?"

  "Because I enjoy it," he said.

  "It's not the lie you enjoy."

  "What do I enjoy?"

  "Knowing something I don't."

  He gave a small shrug, not easy for him, slid down in the chair as he was. He made it look graceful. "Egotistical of you."

  "It's not just from me. You like keeping secrets for the pure hell of it."

  He smiled then, a slow, lazy smile. "You do know me well."

  I started to say, we're friends, but the look in his eyes stopped me. His stare was a little too intense. He seemed to be studying me as if he'd never really seen me
before.

  "What are you thinking, Edward?"

  "That you might be able to give me a run for my money."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You know how I like a challenge."

  I stared at him. "You're talking about coming against me, seeing who's better?" I made it a question. He didn't give me the answer I wanted.

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "I won't do it. You know me—no money, no killing—but it would be . . . interesting."

  "Don't go all spooky on me, Edward."

  "It's just for the very first time I'm wondering if you would win?"

  He was scaring me. I was armed, and he didn't seem to be, but Edward was always armed. "Don't do this, Edward."

  He sat up in one liquid movement. My hand jumped to my gun. The gun was halfway out of its holster when I realized he hadn't done anything but sit up. I let out a shaky breath and eased the gun back into the holster. "Don't play with me, Edward. One of us will get hurt if you do."

  He spread his hands wide. "No more games. I would like to know which of us was best, Anita, but not enough to kill you."

  I let my hand relax. If Edward said he would kill me tonight, he meant it. If we ever did do this for real, he'd tell me first. Edward liked to be sporting about these things. Surprising your victim made things too easy.

  There was a knock on the door. I jumped. Nervous—who, me? Edward sat there as though he hadn't heard, still staring at me with his spooky eyes. I went to the door. It was Richard. He put his arms around me, and I let him. I folded against his chest and was very aware that I couldn't pull a gun very fast clasped to Richard's body.

  I drew back first and pulled him into the room. He looked questioningly at me. I shook my head. "You remember Edward?"

  "Anita, you didn't tell me you were still dating Richard." Edward's voice was pleasant, normal, as if he hadn't been wondering what it would be like to kill me. His face was open, friendly. He walked across the room with his hand outstretched. He was a superb actor.

  Richard shook his hand, looking a little puzzled. He glanced at me. "What's happening, Anita?"

  "Can you set up the movie?"

  "If you'll let me eat during it. My steak is getting ice cold," Edward said.