"Maybe human isn't what I want, Richard. I don't know. Give me a little time. If I can't handle you being furry, better to find out now." I felt awful, mean and petty. He was gorgeous. I loved him. He wanted to marry me. He taught junior high science. He loved hiking, camping, caving. He collected sound tracks of musicals, for God's sake. And he was next in line to rule the pack. An alpha werewolf. Shit.
"I need time, Richard. I am so sorry, but I do." I sounded like a chump. I'd never sounded so indecisive in my life.
He nodded, but didn't look convinced. "You may end up turning me down but you're going to risk your life confronting Jean-Claude. It doesn't make sense."
I had to agree. "I have to talk to him tonight, Richard. I don't want another run-in with Gretchen. Not if I can avoid it."
Richard wiped the palms of his hands over his face. He ran his hands through his hair. "Don't get yourself killed."
"I won't," I said.
"Promise," he said.
I wanted to say, "Promise," but I didn't. "I don't make promises I can't keep."
"Couldn't you be comforting and lie to me?"
I shook my head. "No."
He sighed. "Talk about painful honesty."
"I've got to go." I walked away before he could distract me again. I was beginning to think he was doing it on purpose to delay me. Of course, I was letting him do it.
"Anita." I was almost to the door. I turned back. He stood there under the harsh lights, hands at his sides, looking . . . helpless.
"We've kissed good-bye. You've told me to be careful. I've warned you not to play hero. That's it, Richard. There is no more."
He said, "I love you."
Okay, so there was more. "I love you, too." It was the truth, damn it. If I could just get over his being furry, I would marry him. How would Jean-Claude take the news? As the old saying goes, only one way to find out.
Chapter 24
Guilty Pleasures is in the heart of the vampire district. Its glowing neon sign bled into the night sky, giving the blackness a crimson tint like a distant house fire. I hadn't come to the district unarmed after dark for a very long time. Okay, I had the knife, and it was better than arm wrestling, but against a vampire, not much better.
Stephen was beside me. A werewolf wasn't a bad bodyguard, but somehow Stephen didn't look scary enough. He was only an inch or two taller than me, slender as a willow with just enough shoulder definition to make him look masculine. To say his pants were tight wasn't enough. They were leather and looked painted on like a second skin. It was hard not to notice that his derriere was tight and firm. The leather jacket cut him off at the waist, so the view was unobstructed.
I was wearing my black trench coat again. It had a little bit of blood on it, but if I cleaned it, it would be wet. Wet would not keep me warm. My sweater, one of my favorite sweaters, was torn off one shoulder down to the line of my bra. Too cold without a coat. Gretchen owed me a sweater. Maybe after I got my guns back, we'd talk about that.
Three broad steps led up to closed doors. Buzz the Vampire was guarding them. It was the worst vampire name I'd ever heard. It wasn't great if you were human, but Buzz seemed all wrong for a vampire. It was a great name for a bouncer. He was tall and muscle-bound with a black crew cut. He seemed to be wearing the same black T-shirt he'd worn in July.
I knew vampires couldn't freeze to death, but I hadn't known they didn't get cold. Most vampires tried to play human. They wore coats in the winter. Maybe they didn't need them the same way Gretchen hadn't needed to take the knife from her throat. Maybe it was all pretend.
He smiled, flashing fangs. My reaction seemed to disappoint him. "You missed a set, Stephen. The boss is pissed."
Stephen sort of shrank in on himself. Buzz seemed to get larger, pleased with himself. "Stephen was helping me. I don't think Jean-Claude will mind."
Buzz squinted at me, really seeing my face for the first time. "Shit, what happened to you?"
"If Jean-Claude wants you to know, he'll tell you," I said. I walked past him. There was a large sign on the door: No Crosses, Crucifixes, or Other Holy Items Allowed Inside. I pushed the doors open and kept walking, my cross securely around my neck. They could pry it from my cold dead hands if they wanted it tonight.
Stephen stayed at my heels, almost as if he were afraid of Buzz. Buzz wasn't that old a vampire, less than twenty years. He still had a sense of "aliveness" to him. That utter stillness that the old ones have hadn't touched the bouncer yet. So why was a werewolf afraid of a new vampire? Good question.
It was Sunday night and the place was packed. Didn't anyone have work tomorrow? The noise washed over us like a wave of nearly solid sound. That rich murmurous sound of many people in a small space determined to have a good time. The lights were as bright as they ever got. The small stage empty. We were between shows.
A blond woman greeted us at the door. "Do you have any holy items to declare?" She smiled when she said it. The holy-item check girl.
I smiled when I said, "Nope."
She didn't question me, just smiled and walked away. A male voice said, "Just a moment, Shelia." The tall vampire that strode towards us was lovely to look at. He had high, sculpted cheekbones, and short blond hair styled to perfection. He was too masculine to be beautiful, and too perfect to be real. Robert had been a stripper last time I was here. It looked as though he'd moved up into management.
Shelia waited, looking from Robert to me. "She lied to me?"
Robert nodded. "Hello, Anita."
"Hello. Are you the manager here now?"
He nodded.
I didn't like it, him being manager. He'd failed me once, or rather failed Jean-Claude's orders. Failed to keep someone safe. That someone had died. Robert hadn't even gotten bloody trying to stop the monsters. He should at least have gotten hurt trying. I didn't insist he die to keep people safe, but he should have tried harder. I'd never completely trust him or forgive him.
"You are wearing a holy item, Anita. Unless on police business, you must give it to Shelia."
I glanced up at him. His eyes were blue. I glanced down, then up, and realized I could meet his eyes. He was over a hundred years old, not nearly as powerful as Gretchen, but I shouldn't have been able to meet his eyes.
His eyes widened. "You have to give it up. Those are the rules."
Maybe being able to look him in the eyes had given me courage, or maybe I had had enough for one night. "Is Gretchen here?"
He looked surprised. "Yes, she's in the back room with Jean-Claude."
"Then you can't have the cross."
"I can't let you in then. Jean-Claude is very clear on that." There was a hint of unease in his voice, almost fear. Good.
"Take a good look at my face, Bobby-boy. Gretchen did it. If she's here, I keep the cross."
Frown lines formed between his perfect brows. "Jean-Claude said no exceptions." He stepped closer, and I let him. He lowered his voice as much as he could and be heard above the noise. "He said if I ever fail him again in anything large or small, he'll punish me."
Normally, I thought statements like that were pitiful or cruel. I agreed with this one.
"Go ask Jean-Claude," I said.
He shook his head. "I cannot trust you to stay here. If you get past me with the cross, I will have failed."
This was getting tiresome. "Can Stephen go ask?"
Robert nodded.
Stephen sort of hung by me. He hadn't recovered from Buzz's remarks. "Is Jean-Claude mad at me for missing my set?"
"You should have called if you couldn't make your set," Robert said. "I had to go on in your place."
"Good to be useful," I said.
Robert frowned at me. "Stephen should have called."
"He was taking me to a doctor. You got a problem with that?"
"Jean-Claude may."
"Then bring the great man out and let's ask him. I'm tired of standing in the door."
"Anita, how good of you to grace us with your presence." Gr
etchen was practically purring with anticipation.
"Robert won't let me pass."
She turned her eyes to the vampire. He took a step back. She hadn't even unleashed any of that impressive magic yet. Robert scared easy for a century-old corpse.
"We have been awaiting her, Robert. Jean-Claude is most anxious to see her."
He swallowed hard. "I was told that no one came inside with a holy item other than the police. No exceptions were to be made."
"Not even for the master's sweetheart." She put a lot of irony in that last part.
Robert either didn't get it or ignored it. "Until Jean-Claude tells me differently, she doesn't go through with a cross."
Gretchen stalked around us all. I wasn't sure who looked more worried. "Take off the little cross and let us get this over with."
I shook my head. "Nope."
"It didn't do you a lot of good earlier tonight," she said.
She had a point. For the first time I realized I hadn't even thought of bringing out my cross earlier. I'd gone for my weapons, but not my faith. Pretty damn sad.
I fingered the cool silver of the chain. "The cross stays."
"You are both spoiling my fun," she said. The way she said it made that sound like a very bad thing. "I'll give you one of your weapons back."
A moment before I'd have agreed, but not now. I was embarrassed that I had not gone for my cross earlier. It wouldn't have kept her from jumping me at the beginning. She was too powerful for that. But it might have chased her off Louie. I was going to have to stop skipping church even if I didn't get to sleep at all.
"No."
"Is this your way of getting out of our bargain?" Her voice was low and warm with the first stirrings of anger.
"I keep my word," I said.
"I will escort her through, Robert." She raised a hand to stop his complaining. "If Jean-Claude blames you, tell him I was going to tear your throat out." She stepped into him until only a breath separated their bodies. It was only standing that close that you realized that Robert was taller by a head and a half. Gretchen seemed bigger than that. "It isn't a lie, Robert. I think you're weak, a liability. I would kill you now if our master did not need us both. If you still fear Jean-Claude, remember that he wants you alive. I do not."
Robert swallowed hard enough that it had to hurt. He didn't back up. Brownie point for him. She moved that fraction closer, and he jumped back as if he'd been shot. "Fine, fine, take her through."
Gretchen's lip curled in disgust. One thing we agreed on: we didn't like Robert. If we had one thing in common, maybe there'd be more. Maybe we could be girlfriends. Yeah, right.
The noise level had dropped to a background murmur. We had everybody's attention. Nothing like a floor show. "Is there supposed to be an act on stage right now?" I asked.
Robert nodded. "Yes, I need to introduce him."
"Go do your job, Robert." The words were thick with scorn. Gretchen gave good scorn.
Robert left us, obviously relieved. "Wimp," I said softly.
"Come, Anita, Jean-Claude is waiting for us." She stalked away, long pale coat swinging out behind her. Stephen and I exchanged glances. He shrugged. I followed her and he trailed behind as if he were afraid of losing me.
Jean-Claude's office was like being inside a domino. Stark white walls, white carpet, black lacquer desk, black office chair, black leather couch against one wall, and two straight-backed chairs sat in front of the desk. The desk and chairs were Oriental, set with enamel pictures of cranes and Oriental women in flowing robes. I'd always liked the desk, not that I would admit it out loud.
There was a black lacquer screen in one corner. I'd never seen it before. It was large, hiding one entire corner. A dragon curled across the screen in oranges and reds, with huge bulbous eyes. It was a nice addition to the room. It was not a comfortable room, but it was stylish. Like Jean-Claude.
He sat on the leather couch dressed all in black. The shirt had a high, stiff collar that framed his face. It was hard to tell where his hair left off and the shirt began. The collar was pinned at his throat, with a thumb-size ruby pendant. The shirt was open down to his belt, leaving a triangle of pale, pale skin showing. Only the pendant kept the shirt from opening completely.
The cuffs were as wide and stiff as the collar, nearly hiding his hands. He raised one hand and I could see the cuffs were open on one side so he could still use his hands. Black jeans and velvet black boots completed the outfit.
I'd seen the pendant before, but the shirt was certainly new. "Spiffy," I said.
He smiled. "Do you like it?" He straightened the cuffs, as if they needed it.
"It's a nice change from white," I said.
"Stephen, we were expecting you earlier." His voice was mild enough, but there was an undertaste of something dark and unpleasant.
"Stephen took me to the doctor."
His midnight blue eyes turned back to me. "Is your latest police investigation getting rough?"
"No," I said. I glanced at Gretchen. She was looking at Jean-Claude.
"Tell him," she said.
I didn't think she was referring to my accusing her of trying to kill me. It was time for a little honesty, or at least a little drama. I was sure Jean-Claude wouldn't disappoint us.
"Stephen needs to leave now," I said. I didn't want him getting killed trying to protect me. He wasn't up to being anything but cannon fodder. Not against Jean-Claude.
"Why?" he asked. He sounded suspicious.
"Get on with it," Gretchen said.
I shook my head. "Stephen doesn't need to be here."
"Get out, Stephen," Jean-Claude said. "I am not angry with you for missing your set. Anita is more important to me than your being on time to your job."
That was nice to know.
Stephen gave a sort of bob, almost a bow to Jean-Claude, flashed a look at me, and hesitated. "Go on, Stephen. I'll be all right."
I didn't have to reassure him twice. He fled.
"What have you been up to, ma petite?"
I glanced at Gretchen. She had eyes only for him. Her face looked hungry, as if she'd waited for this a long time. I stared into his dark blue eyes and realized that I could without vampire marks; I could meet his eyes.
Jean-Claude noticed it, too. His eyes widened just a bit. "Ma petite, you are full of surprises tonight."
"You ain't seen nothing yet," I said.
"By all means, continue. I do love a surprise."
I doubted he'd like this one. I took a deep breath and said it fast, as if that would make it go down better, like a spoonful of sugar. "Richard asked me to marry him, and I said yes." I could have added, "But I'm not sure anymore," but I didn't. I was too confused to offer up anything but the bare facts. If he tried to kill me, maybe I'd add details. Until then . . . we'd wait it out.
Jean-Claude just sat there. He didn't move at all. The heater clicked on, and I jumped. The vent was above the couch. The air played along his hair, the cloth of his shirt, but it was like watching a mannequin. The hair and clothes worked but the rest was stone.
The silence stretched and filled the room. The heater died, and the quiet was so profound I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. It was like the stillness before creation. You knew something big was coming. You just didn't know quite what. I let the silence flow around me. I wouldn't be the one to break it, because I was afraid of what came next. This utter calmness was more unnerving than anger would have been. I didn't know what to do with it, so I did nothing. A course of action I seldom regret.
It was Gretchen who broke first. "Did you hear her, Jean-Claude? She is to wed another. She loves another."
He blinked once, a long, graceful sweep of lashes. "Ask her now if she loves me, Gretchen."
Gretchen stepped in front of me, blocking Jean-Claude from view. "What does it matter? She's going to marry someone else."
"Ask her." It was a command.
Gretchen whirled to face me. The bones in her face stood out un
der the skin, lips thin with rage. "You don't love him."
It wasn't exactly a question, so I didn't answer it. Jean-Claude's voice came lazy and full of some dark meaning that I didn't understand. "Do you love me, ma petite?"
I stared into Gretchen's rage-filled face and said, "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said no?"
"Can you not simply say yes?"
"Yes, in some dark, twisted part of my soul, I love you. Happy?"
He smiled. "How can you marry him if you love me?"
"I love him, too, Jean-Claude."
"In the same way?"
"No," I said.
"How do you love us differently?"
The questions were getting trickier. "How am I supposed to explain something to you that I don't even understand myself?"
"Try."
"You're like great Shakespearean tragedy. If Romeo and Juliet hadn't committed suicide, they'd have hated each other in a year. Passion is a form of love, but it isn't real. It doesn't last."
"And how do you feel about Richard?" His voice was full of some strong emotion. It should have been anger, but it felt different from that. Almost as if it were an emotion I didn't have a word for.
"I don't just love Richard, I like him. I enjoy his company. I . . ." I hated explaining myself. "Oh, hell, Jean-Claude, I can't put it into words. I can see spending my life with Richard, and I can't see it with you."
"Have you set a date?"
"No," I said.
He cocked his head to one side, studying me. "It is the truth but there is some bit of lie to it. What are you holding back, ma petite?"
I frowned at him. "I've told you the truth."
"But not all of it."
I didn't want to tell him. He'd enjoy it too much. I felt vaguely disloyal to Richard. "I'm not completely sure about marrying Richard."
"Why not?" There was something in his face that was almost hopeful. I couldn't let him get the wrong idea.
"I saw him go all spooky. I felt his . . . power."
"And?"
"And now I'm not sure," I said.
"He's not human enough for you, either." He threw back his head and laughed. A joyous outpouring of sound that coated me like chocolate. Heavy and sweet and annoying.
Anita Blake 4 - Lunatic Cafe Page 19
