Anita Blake 4 - Lunatic Cafe

by Laurell K. Hamilton

"We had an appointment with Jean-Claude. It would have hurt my feelings to be turned away at the door." She stepped over Robert, flashing a lot of leg. I wasn't sure she was wearing anything under the trench coat. Robert did not try to sneak a peek. He froze, flinching as her coat brushed his back.

  Raina stood with her shapely calves, nearly touching Robert. He didn't move away from her. He seemed to just freeze as if he could pretend he wasn't there and everyone would forget about him. He wished.

  She was standing so close to Jean-Claude that the length of their bodies touched. She was sort of wedged between the two vampires. I expected Jean-Claude to step back, give her a little room. He didn't.

  She ran her fingers under his shirt, laying her hands on either side of his naked waist. Her lipsticked mouth parted and she leaned into him. She kissed him, and he stood like a statue under her hands. But he didn't tell her to go to hell.

  What the hell was going on?

  Raina raised her face enough to speak. "Jean-Claude doesn't wish to offend Marcus. He needs the pack's backing to hold the city. Don't you, love?"

  He put his hands on her slender waist and stepped back. Her hands trailed along his skin until he was completely out of reach. She watched him the way snakes watch small birds. Hungry. You didn't have to be a vampire to feel her lust. Obvious was putting it kindly.

  "Marcus and I have an arrangement," Jean-Claude said.

  "What sort of arrangement?" I asked.

  "Why do you care, ma petite? You are going to be seeing Monsieur Zeeman. Am I not allowed to see other people? I have offered you monogamy and you have turned me down."

  I hadn't thought about it. It did bother me. Damn. "It's not the sharing that bothers me, Jean-Claude."

  Raina walked up behind him, long painted nails tracing his skin. Hands curling up his chest until her chin rested on his shoulder. Jean-Claude relaxed in her arms this time. He leaned his back against her, pale hands caressing her arms. He stared at me while he did it.

  "What does bother you, ma petite?"

  "Your choice of playmates."

  "Jealous?" Raina asked.

  "No."

  "Liar," she said.

  What was I supposed to say? That it bothered me to see her hanging all over him? It did. Which bothered me more than her groping him.

  I shook my head. "Just wondering how far you'll go to secure the pack's favor."

  "Oh, all the way," Raina said. She moved around to stand in front of him. She was taller than he was in her heels. "You are going to come play with me." She kissed him, one quick movement. She dropped to her knees in front of him, gazing upward.

  Jean-Claude stroked her hair. His pale graceful hands raising her face upward. He bent towards her as if to kiss her, but he stared at me while he did it.

  Was he waiting for me to say, no, don't? He'd seemed almost afraid of her at first. Now he was utterly comfortable. I knew he was taunting me. Trying to make me jealous. It was sort of working.

  He kissed her long and lingering. He looked up from it with her lipstick smeared on his lips. "What are you thinking, ma petite?"

  He couldn't read my mind anymore, one point for not having vampire marks. "That I think less of you for having sex with Raina."

  Gabriel gave a warm, rolling laugh. "Oh, he hasn't had sex with her, not yet." He walked towards me in a long, gliding stride.

  I flashed the trench coat showing the Browning. "Let's not get crazed."

  He undid the trench coat's belt, and raised his hands in surrender. He wasn't wearing a shirt. He had a silver ring through his left nipple, and the edge of his belly button.

  It made me wince just to see it. "I thought silver hurt a lycanthrope, like an allergy."

  "It burns," he said. His voice had a soft huskiness to it.

  "And this is a good thing?" I asked.

  Gabriel put his hands down slowly and shrugged the coat off his shoulders. He turned slowly as the cloth fell like a striptease. I didn't see any other silver rings. He whirled as it came off his arms, and at the apex of the turn he flung it on me. I batted at the coat, knocking it away from me. That was the mistake.

  He was on me, body flattening me to the floor. My arms ended up pinned to my chest, trapped under his coat. His waist had the Firestar trapped. I went for the Browning and his hand tore through the coat like paper, ripped the gun out from under my arm. He damn near took the holster and my arm with it. For a second my left arm was just one raw pain. When I could feel my arm again the Browning was gone and I was staring up into Gabriel's face from three inches away.

  He wriggled his hips, grinding the Firestar into both of us. It had to hurt him more than it hurt me.

  "Doesn't that hurt?" I asked. My voice was surprisingly calm.

  "I like pain," he said. He put the tip of his tongue on my chin and licked across my mouth. He laughed. "Struggle harder. Push those little hands."

  "You like pain?" I said.

  "Yeah."

  "You're gonna love this." I shoved the knife into his upper stomach. He gave a small sound between a grunt and a sigh. A shudder ran the length of his body. He reared up over me, still pinning me from the waist down, like he was doing girl's push-ups.

  I raised myself up with him, shoving the knife in deeper, drawing the blade upward through the meat of his body.

  Gabriel ripped the coat into pieces but didn't try to grab the knife. He braced an arm on either side of me, staring downward at the knife and my bloody hands.

  He rested his face in my hair, slumping just a little. I thought he'd pass out. He whispered, "Deeper."

  "Oh, Jesus." The blade was almost at the bottom of his sternum. When I got to it one upward thrust would give me his heart.

  I lay back on the floor to get a better angle for the killing blow.

  "Don't kill him," Raina said. "We need him."

  We? The knife was on its way to his heart when he rolled off me in a blinding blur of speed. He ended up lying on his back not too far away. He was breathing very fast, his chest rising and falling. Blood poured down his naked skin. His eyes were closed, lips curled in a half smile.

  If he'd been human he might have died later tonight. Instead he lay on the carpet smiling. He rolled his head to one side and opened his eyes. His strange grey eyes looked at me. "That was wonderful."

  "Jesus H. Christ," I said. I got to my feet using the couch for support. I was covered in Gabriel's blood. The knife was thick with it.

  Kaspar was sitting on the corner of the couch staring at me. He huddled in his coat, eyes wide. I didn't blame him.

  I wiped my hands and blade on the black couch. "Thanks for the help, Jean-Claude."

  "I was told that you are a dominant now, ma petite. Struggles of internal dominance are not to be interfered with." He smiled. "Besides, you did not need my help."

  Raina knelt beside Gabriel. She lowered her face to his bleeding stomach and began to lick it. Long, slow movements of her tongue. Her throat convulsed as she swallowed.

  I would not be sick. I would not be sick. I looked at Kaspar. "What are you doing with these two?"

  Raina raised a blood coated face. "Kaspar is our sample."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "He can shapeshift back and forth as often as he wants to. He doesn't pass out. We use him to test potential stars of our movie productions. To see how they react to somebody changing shape in the middle of things."

  I was going to be sick. "Please tell me you don't mean he changes in the middle of sex as a sort of screen test."

  Raina cocked her head to one side. Her tongue rolled around her mouth, licking the blood clean. "You know about our little films?"

  "Yeah."

  "I'm surprised Richard told you. He doesn't approve of our fun."

  "Are you in the movies?"

  "Kaspar won't play on film," Raina said. She stood up and walked towards the couch. "Marcus won't force anybody to be on film. But Kaspar helps us audition people. Don't you, Kaspar?"

 
; He nodded. He was staring at the carpet, working very hard at not looking at her.

  "Why are you all here tonight?" I asked.

  "Jean-Claude promised us some vampires for our next movie."

  "That true?" I asked.

  Jean-Claude's face was blank, lovely but unreadable. "Robert needs to be punished."

  I frowned at the change of subject. "The coffin's full."

  "There are always more coffins, Anita."

  Robert crawled forward. "I'm sorry, master. I'm sorry." He didn't touch Jean-Claude, but he crept close to him. "I can't bear the box again, master. Please."

  "You're afraid of Raina, Jean-Claude. What do you expect Robert to do with her?"

  "I am not afraid of Raina."

  "Fine, but Robert was overmatched. You know he was."

  "Perhaps you are right, ma petite."

  Robert looked up. A moment of hope flashed across his handsome face. "Thank you, master." He looked at me. "Thank you, Anita."

  I shrugged.

  "You can have Robert for your next film," Jean-Claude said.

  Robert grabbed his leg. "Master, I . . ."

  "Oh, come on, Jean-Claude, don't give him to her."

  Raina plopped down on the couch between Kaspar and me. I stood up. She put an arm over Kaspar's shoulders. He flinched.

  "He's handsome enough. Any vampire can take a great deal of punishment. Most acceptable," she said.

  "You saw them here tonight," I said. "Do you really want to do that to one of your own people?"

  "Let Robert decide," Jean-Claude said. "The box, or Raina?"

  Robert looked up at the lycanthrope. She smiled at him with her bloody mouth.

  Robert lowered his head so he could see her, then nodded. "Not the box. Anything is better than that."

  "I'm out of here," I said. I'd had all the interpreternatural politics that I could stand for one night.

  "Don't you want to see the show?" Raina said.

  "I thought I'd seen the show," I said.

  She tossed Kaspar's hat across the room. "Strip," she said.

  I'd sheathed the knife and retrieved the Browning from the carpet where Gabriel had thrown it. I was armed. For what good it did me.

  Kaspar sat there on the couch. There was a pink flush to his white skin. His eyes glittered. Angry, embarrassed. "I was a prince before your ancestors discovered this country."

  Raina propped her chin on his shoulder, still hugging his shoulders. "We know how blue your pedigree is. You were a prince and you were such a big, bad hunter, such a wicked boy that a witch cursed you. She turned you into something beautiful and harmless. She hoped you'd learn how to be gentle and kind." She licked his ear, running her hands through his feathery hair. "But you aren't gentle or kind. Your heart is just as cold and your pride just as impervious as it was centuries ago. Now, take off your clothes and turn into a swan for us."

  "You don't need me to do it for the vampire," he said.

  "No, do it for me. Do it so Anita can see. Do it so Gabriel and I don't hurt you." Her voice was going lower. Each word more measured.

  "You can't kill me, not even with silver," he said.

  "But we can make you wish you could die, Kaspar."

  He screamed, a low, ragged cry of frustration. He stood up abruptly and pulled on his coat. The buttons snapped and fell to the carpet. He flung the coat into Raina's face.

  She laughed.

  I started for the door.

  "Oh, don't leave yet, Anita. Kaspar may be a pain in the ass, but he's really quite beautiful."

  I glanced back.

  Kaspar's sport jacket and tie lay on the carpet. He unbuttoned his white dress shirt with quick, angry movements. There was a line of white feathers down the middle of his chest. Soft and downy as an Easter duck.

  I shook my head and kept going for the door. I did not run. I did not walk faster than normal. It was the bravest thing I'd done all night.

  Chapter 27

  I took a taxi home. Stephen stayed behind to strip or just to lick Jean-Claude's boots, I wasn't sure which and I wasn't sure I cared. I'd made sure Stephen wasn't in trouble. It was the best I could do. He was Jean-Claude's creature, and I'd had about enough of the Master of the City for one night.

  Killing Gretchen was one thing, tormenting her was another. I kept flashing on the sound of her frantically beating hands. I'd like to believe that Jean-Claude would keep her asleep, but I knew better. He was a master vampire. They ruled, in part, through fear. Gretchen seemed like a real good threat. Displease me and I'll do that to you. Worked for me.

  I was standing outside my apartment when I realized I didn't have a key to it. I'd given Richard my car keys, which had my house keys on the ring.

  It felt silly standing out in the hallway about to knock on my own front door. The door opened without me touching it. Richard stood in the doorway. He smiled. "Hi," he said.

  I found myself smiling back. "Hi, yourself."

  He stepped back to one side, giving me room. He hadn't tried to kiss me in the door like Ozzie meeting Harriet after work. I was glad. It was too intimate a ritual. If we ever did this for real, he could molest me at the door, but not tonight.

  He closed the door behind me, and I half expected him to take my coat. Wisely, he did not.

  I took off my own coat and laid it across the couch, where all good coats go. The warm smell of cooking food filled the apartment. "You've been cooking," I said, not entirely pleased.

  "I thought you might be hungry. Besides, all I had to do was wait. I cooked. It filled the time."

  I could understand that. Though cooking would never have occurred to me unless forced.

  The only lights were in the kitchen. It looked like a lighted cave from the darkened living room. If I wasn't mistaken, there were candles on the table.

  "Are those candles?"

  He laughed. It had an embarrassed edge to it. "Too hokey?"

  "It's a two-seater breakfast table. You can't possibly serve a fancy dinner on it."

  "I thought we'd use the divider as a buffet and just have plates on the table. There's room if we're careful where we put our elbows." He walked past me into the light. He started puttering with a saucepan, sloshing something around in it.

  I stood there staring at my kitchen, watching my possible fiancé cooking my dinner. My skin felt tight and itchy. I couldn't draw a complete breath. I wanted to go right back out the door. This was more intimate than a kiss at the door. He'd moved in, made himself at home.

  I didn't leave. It was the bravest thing I'd done all night. I checked the lock on the door automatically. He'd left it unlocked. Careless.

  I didn't know what to do next. My apartment was my refuge. I could come here and just kick back. I could be alone. I liked being alone. I needed some time to unwind, regroup, think how to tell him Jean-Claude and I had a date.

  "Will dinner be spoiled if I clean up first?"

  "I can reheat everything when you're ready. I planned the meal so it wouldn't ruin no matter how late you were."

  Great. "I'm going to go clean up then."

  He turned to me, framed by the light. He'd tied his hair back, but it was coming loose in long, curling strands. His sweater was a burnt orange that made his skin look golden highlighted. He was wearing an apron that said, Mrs. Lovett's Meatpies on it. I didn't own an apron, and I certainly wouldn't have chosen one with a logo from Sweeney Todd. A musical about cannibalism seemed inappropriate for an apron. Delightfully so, but still . . .

  "I'm going to go clean up."

  "You said that."

  I turned on my heel and walked to the bedroom. I did not run, though the temptation was great. I closed the door to my bedroom and leaned against it. My bedroom was untouched. No signs of invasion.

  There was a love seat under the room's only window. Stuffed toy penguins sit on the love seat and spill down onto the floor. The collection was threatening to take over half the floor like a creeping tide. I grabbed the nearest one and
sat on the corner of the bed. I hugged it tight, burying the upper half of my face in its fuzzy head.

  I'd said I would marry Richard, so why was I so bugged about his sudden domestic turn? We downgraded the yes to a maybe, but even if it had still been a yes it would have bugged me. Marriage. The implications of that hadn't really sunk in. It wasn't fair to ask questions like that when he was half-naked and looking yummy. If he'd dropped to one knee over a fancy restaurant dinner, would my answer have been different? Maybe. But we'd never know, would we?

  If I'd been alone, I wouldn't have eaten at all. I'd have taken a shower, thrown on an oversize T-shirt, and gone to bed surrounded by a few select penguins.

  Now I had a fancy dinner to eat, by candlelight nonetheless. If I said I wasn't hungry, would he be insulted? Would he pout? Would he yell about all the work going to waste and tell me about starving kids in Southeast Asia?

  "Shit," I said softly and with feeling. Well, hell, if we ever were going to cohabitate, he'd have to know the truth. I was unsociable, and food was something you ate so you wouldn't die.

  I decided to do what I'd have done if he hadn't been here, sort of. I really disliked feeling uncomfortable in my own home. If I'd known it was going to feel like this, I'd have called Ronnie to wake me every hour. I was fine. I didn't need the help, but Ronnie would have been more comfy, less threatening. Of course, if Gretchen got out of her box, I trusted Richard would survive an attack, but wasn't so sure about Ronnie. One good point in Richard's favor. He was damn hard to kill.

  I put the Browning in the holster built into the bed. I stripped off the sweater and let it fall to the floor. It was ruined and sweaters didn't wrinkle anyway. I laid the Firestar on the back of the toilet. Then I stripped off and got in the shower. I didn't lock the bedroom door. It would seem insulting, as if, if I didn't lock the door, he'd be naked in the bed with a rose in his teeth when I came out.

  I locked the bathroom door. I'd done it when I was home with my father. Now I did it so if someone busted down the door, I'd have time to grab the Firestar off the toilet.

  I turned the shower on as hot as it would go and stayed under it until my fingers started to prune. I was scrubbed clean and had delayed as long as I could.