Anita Blake 4 - Lunatic Cafe

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  "I've got to get some sleep, so everybody who isn't staying, out."

  "If you are referring to me, ma petite, I have no intention of leaving. Unless Richard goes with me."

  "Stephen told you why I'm here," Richard said. "She's hurt and doesn't need to be alone."

  "Look at her, Richard. Does she look hurt?" He held up a graceful hand. "I admit she has sustained some damage. But she does not need your help. Perhaps she doesn't even need mine."

  "I invited Richard to stay over. I did not invite you."

  "But you did invite me, ma petite."

  "First, please stop calling me that. Second, when did I invite you?"

  "'The last time I was here. In August I believe."

  Shit, I'd forgotten. It was beyond careless. I'd endangered Richard. Things were working out, but I hadn't known that when I left him here alone, alone in a place where Jean-Claude could come and go at will.

  "I can take care of that right now," I said.

  "If a dramatic gesture will please you, then be my guest. But Richard must not spend the night."

  "Why not?"

  "I think you are one of those women that where you give your body, there, too, is your heart. If you sleep with our Monsieur Zeeman, I think it might be the point of no return."

  "Sex isn't a commitment," I said.

  "For most people, no, but for you, I think it is."

  The fact that he knew me that well brought heat in a rush up my face. Damn him. "I don't plan on sleeping with him."

  "I believe you, ma petite, but I see the way your eyes follow him. He sits there looking luscious and warm and very alive. If I had not been here when you came home, would you have resisted?"

  "Yes."

  He shrugged. "Perhaps. Your strength of will is frightening, but I cannot take that chance."

  "You don't trust me not to molest him?"

  Again that shrug that could have meant anything. His smile was inviting and condescending.

  "Why? You got the hots for him yourself?"

  The question caught him off guard. The surprise on his face was worth the outraged look on Richard's face. Jean-Claude looked at Richard. He gave him his full attention. He stared at Richard, eyes roaming his body in a slow, intimate dance. His gaze ended not on his groin or his chest, but on his neck. "It is true that the blood of shapeshifters can be sweeter than human blood. It is a wild ride if you can manage it without getting torn apart."

  "You sound like a rapist," I said.

  His smile blossomed in a surprised flash of fangs. "It is not a bad comparison."

  "That was an insult, you know," I said.

  "I know it was meant as such."

  "I thought we had an agreement," Richard said.

  "We do."

  "You can sit there and talk about taking me for food, and we've still got an agreement."

  "It would be enjoyable to take you for many reasons, but we have an agreement. I won't go back on it."

  "What agreement?" I asked.

  "We are exploring our mutual powers," Jean-Claude said.

  "What does that mean exactly?" I asked.

  "We're not sure," Richard said. "We haven't worked out the details yet."

  "We've just agreed not to kill each other, ma petite. Give us a little time to plan beyond that."

  "Fine. Then both of you get out."

  Richard sat up straighter on the couch. "Anita, you heard Lillian. You need to be woken every hour just in case."

  "I'll set an alarm. Look, Richard, I'm fine. Get dressed and go."

  He looked puzzled and a little hurt. "Anita."

  Jean-Claude didn't look hurt or puzzled. He looked smug.

  "Richard's not spending the night. Happy?"

  "Yes."

  "And you're not spending the night, either."

  "I had not planned to." He stood, turning to face me. "I will leave as soon as I've had my good-night kiss."

  "Your what?"

  "My kiss." He came around the couch to stand in front of me. "I will admit I had envisioned you wearing something a little more"—he tugged on my sleeve—"salacious, but one takes what one can get."

  I jerked the sleeve out of his fingers. "You haven't gotten anything yet."

  "True, but I am hopeful."

  "I don't know why," I said.

  "The agreement between Richard and me is predicated on the fact that we are all dating. You date Richard, and you date me. We both woo you. One cozy little family."

  "Can you speed this up? I want to get to bed."

  A slight frown appeared between his eyes. "Anita, you are not making this easy."

  "Hurrah," I said.

  The frown smoothed out as he sighed. "You would think I would give up on you ever being easy."

  "Yes," I said, "you would."

  "A good-night kiss, ma . . . Anita. If you truly intend to date me, it will not be the last."

  I glared up at him. I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but there was something about the way he stood there. "If I say no kiss, what then?"

  "I go away for tonight." He took that step closer to me that put us almost touching. The cloth of his shirt brushed the front of my T-shirt. "But if you give Richard kisses and do not allow me such privileges, then the agreement is off. If I cannot touch you, and he can, it is hardly fair."

  I'd agreed to the dating because it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now . . . I hadn't really thought through all the implications. Dating, kissing, making out. Yikes! "I don't kiss until after the first date."

  "But you have already kissed me, Anita."

  "Not willingly," I said.

  "Tell me you did not enjoy it, ma petite."

  I'd have loved to lie, but neither of them would have bought it. "You are an intrusive bastard."

  "Not as intrusive as I would like to be," he said.

  "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Richard said. He was on his knees on the couch, hands gripping the back.

  I shook my head. I wasn't sure I could explain it out loud, but if we were really going to do this, Jean-Claude was right. I couldn't hold Richard's hand and not his. Though it did give me a real incentive not to go all the way with Richard. Tit for tat and all that.

  "After our first date you can have a willing kiss, not before," I said. I was going to give it the old college try.

  He shook his head. "No, Anita. You yourself told me you liked Richard, not just loved him. That you could see spending your life with him, but not with me. Perhaps he is a more likable fellow. I cannot compete in niceness."

  "That's certainly gospel," I said.

  He stared down at me with his blue, blue eyes. No drag of power, but there was a weight to his gaze. Not magic, but dangerous all the same.

  "But in one area I can compete." I could feel his gaze on my body as if he'd touched me. The weight of his gaze made me shiver.

  "Stop it."

  "No." One word, soft, caressing. His voice was one of his best things. "One kiss, Anita, or we can end it here, tonight. I will not lose you without a struggle."

  "You'd fight Richard tonight, just because I won't kiss you."

  "It is not the kiss, ma petite. It is what I saw tonight when you met him at the door. I see you forming a couple before my eyes. I must interfere now, or all is lost."

  "You'll use your voice to trap her," Richard said.

  "I promise, no tricks tonight."

  If he said no tricks, he meant it. Once he gave his word he kept it. Which also meant he would fight Richard tonight over a kiss. I'd left both guns in the bedroom. I thought we were safe for tonight. I was too damn tired to do this tonight.

  "Okay," I said.

  "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Anita," Richard said.

  "If we are all going to go down in a bloody mess, let it be over something more important than a kiss."

  "You want to do it," Richard said. "You want to kiss him." He didn't sound pleased.

  What was I supposed to
say? "What I want most right this moment is to go to bed, alone. I want some sleep." That at least was the truth. Maybe not all of the truth, but enough to earn me a puzzled frown from Richard, and an exasperated sigh from Jean-Claude.

  "Then if it is such a distasteful duty, let it be done quickly," Jean-Claude said.

  We were standing so close, he didn't have to make a full step to press the line of his body against mine. I tried to put my hands up, to keep our bodies apart. My hands slid over the bare skin of his stomach. I jerked back from him, balling my hands into fists. The feel of his skin clung to my hands.

  "What is it, ma petite?"

  "Leave her alone," Richard said. He was standing beside the couch, hands in loose fists. Power prickled along my skin. His power creeping outward like a slow-moving wind. His hair had spilled over one side of his face. He looked out through a curtain of hair. His face had fallen into shadows. Light gleamed along his naked skin, painting it in shades of grey, gold, and black. He stood there looking suddenly primal. A low, spine-brushing grow trickled through the room.

  "Stop it, Richard."

  "He is using his powers on you." His voice was unrecognizable. A low, bass growl that was sliding away from human. I was glad for the shadows. Glad I couldn't see what was happening to his face.

  I'd been so worried about Jean-Claude starting a fight, it hadn't occurred to me that Richard might pick one. "He isn't using powers on me. I touched his bare skin. That's all."

  He stepped forward into the light, and his face was normal. What was happening inside that smooth throat, behind those kissable lips, to make his voice sound monstrous?

  "Get dressed and get out."

  "What?" His lips moved but that growling voice rolled out. It was like watching a badly dubbed movie.

  "If Jean-Claude isn't allowed to attack you, then you sure as hell aren't allowed to attack him. I thought he was the only monster I had to deal with. If you can't behave like a human being, Richard, get out."

  "What of my kiss, ma petite?"

  "You have both pushed it about as far as it's going to go tonight," I said. "Everybody out."

  Jean-Claude's laugh filled the shadowed dark. "As you like, Anita Blake. I am suddenly not so worried about you and Monsieur Zeeman."

  "Before you start congratulating yourself, Jean-Claude—I revoke my invitation."

  There was a sound like a low sonic pop. A great roaring filled the room. The door smashed open, banging against the wall. A wind rushed in like an invisible river, tugging at our clothes, flinging our hair across our eyes.

  "You don't have to do this," Jean-Claude said.

  "Yes," I said, "I do."

  It was as if an invisible hand shoved him through the door. Slamming the door shut behind him.

  "I'm sorry," Richard said. The growl was slipping away. His voice was almost normal. "It is too close to the full moon to get this angry."

  "I don't want to hear it," I said. "Just go."

  "Anita, I am sorry. I don't usually lose control like this. Even this close to the full moon."

  "What was different tonight?"

  "I've never been in love before. It seems to break my concentration."

  "Jealousy will do that to you," I said.

  "Tell me I don't have reason to be jealous, Anita. Make me believe it."

  I sighed. "Go away, Richard. I've still got to clean my guns and knife before I can go to bed."

  He smiled and shook his head. "I guess tonight didn't reassure you about how human I am." He walked around the couch and bent over, retrieving his sweater from the floor, where it lay neatly folded.

  He pulled the sweater over his head. He pulled a ponytail holder from his jeans pocket, and tied his hair back. I could see the muscles in his arms work even through the sweater. He slipped his shoes on, bending over to tie them.

  His coat was long, falling to his ankles. In the half light it looked like a cape.

  "I don't suppose I get a kiss, either."

  "Good night, Richard," I said.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Good night, Anita."

  He left. I locked the door. I cleaned my weapons and went to bed. After the show that Richard and Jean-Claude had put on, the Browning was about the only thing I wanted in bed with me tonight. All right, the gun and one stuffed penguin.

  Chapter 32

  The phone was ringing. It seemed to have been ringing a long time. I lay in bed listening to it ring, wondering when the hell the machine would pick up. I rolled over, reaching for the phone. It was missing. The ringing was coming from the other room. Shit. I'd forgotten to bring it back in last night.

  I crawled out of the warm covers and staggered into the living room. The phone must have rung fifteen times before I got to it. I sank to the floor with the receiver clutched to my ear. "Who is it?"

  "Anita?"

  "Ronnie?"

  "You sound awful."

  "I look worse," I said.

  "What's up?"

  "Later, why are you calling at"—I glanced at my wristwatch—" seven o'clock in the freaking morning. This better be good, Ronnie."

  "Oh, it's good, all right. I thought we should catch George Smitz before he goes to work."

  "Why?" My face was throbbing. I lay down on the carpet, cradling the phone against my ear. The carpet was very soft.

  "Anita, Anita, are you there?"

  I blinked and realized I'd fallen asleep. I sat up and leaned against the wall. "I'm here, but I didn't hear a word you said after something about needing to talk to Smitz before work."

  "I know you're not a morning person, Anita, but you've never fallen asleep on me before. How much sleep did you get last night?"

  "About an hour."

  "Oh, God, I am sorry. But I knew you'd want to know. I've found the smoking gun."

  "Ronnie, please, what are you talking about?"

  "I have pictures of George Smitz with another woman." She let that sink in for a moment or two. "Anita, are you there?"

  "I'm here. I'm thinking." The last was harder to do than I wanted it to be. I am never at my best first thing in the morning. After an hour's sleep I wasn't even close to my best. "Why do you say it's a smoking gun?"

  "Well, a lot of times a spouse will report the other spouse missing to divert suspicion."

  "You think Smitz offed his wife?"

  "How poetically you put it, but yes, I do."

  "Why? A lot of men cheat on their wives, most of them don't kill them."

  "Here's the clincher. After I took the pictures, I talked to a few gun stores in the area. He'd bought some silver bullets at a store near the butcher shop."

  "Not very bright," I said.

  "Most murderers aren't."

  I nodded, realized she couldn't see it, and didn't care. "Fine, looks like Mr. Smitz isn't the grieving widower he pretended to be. What do you want to do about it?"

  "Confront him at home."

  "Why not go to the cops?"

  "The store clerk isn't exactly positive it was George."

  I closed my eyes. "Great, just great. You think he'll confess to us?"

  "He might. He's shared a bed with her for fifteen years. Mother of his children. There's got to be a lot of guilt there."

  I don't think real well on an hour's sleep. "Cops, we should have the cops waiting in the wings, at least."

  "Anita, he's a client of mine. I don't turn clients over to the cops unless I have to. If he confesses, I'll bring them in. If he doesn't confess, I'll hand over what I have. But I've got to try it my way first."

  "Fine, do you call him and tell him we're coming or do you want me to?"

  "I'll do it. I just thought you'd like to be there."

  "Yeah, let me know when."

  "He hasn't gone to work yet. I'll call him and be over to pick you up."

  I wanted to say, "No, I have to go back to sleep," but what if he had killed her? What if he'd taken the others? George hadn't struck me as dangerous enough to take out shapes
hifters, but then I'd thought he was genuinely grieving. Genuinely worried about his wife. What the hell did I know?

  "I'll be ready," I said. I hung up without saying good-bye. I was getting as bad as Dolph. I'd apologize when Ronnie got here.

  The phone rang before I could crawl to my feet. "What is it, Ronnie?"

  "Anita, it's Richard."

  "Sorry, Richard, what's up?"

  "You sound awful."

  "You don't. You didn't get much more sleep than I did. How come you sound so much better? Please tell me you aren't a morning person."

  He laughed. "Sorry, guilty as charged."

  Furry I could forgive; a morning person, I'd have to think about that. "Richard, don't take this wrong, but what do you want?"

  "Jason's missing."

  "Who's Jason?"

  "Young male, blond, crawled all over you at the Lunatic Cafe."

  "Ah, I remember him. He's missing."

  "Yes. Jason is one of our newest pack members. Tonight is the full moon. He wouldn't risk going out alone today of all days. His sponsor went over to his house, and he was gone."

  "Sponsor like in AA?"

  "Something like that."

  "Any signs of a struggle?"

  "No."

  I stood up dragging the phone in one hand. I tried to think past the leaden tiredness. How dare Richard sound so cheerful. "Peggy Smitz's husband—Ronnie caught him with another woman. A clerk may have sold him silver bullets."

  There was silence on the other end of the phone. I could hear his soft breathing, but that was all. The breathing was a little fast.

  "Talk to me, Richard."

  "If he killed Peggy, then we'll handle it."

  "Has it occurred to you that he could be behind all the disappearances?" I asked.

  "I don't see how."

  "Why not? A silver bullet will take care of any shapeshifter. No great skill involved. You just need to be someone that the shapeshifter trusts."

  More silence finally. "Okay, what do you want to do?"

  "Ronnie and I were going to confront him this morning. With Jason missing we don't have time to pussy-foot around. Can you supply me with a shapeshifter or two to help threaten Smitz? Maybe with a little muscle power we can get to the truth faster."

  "I have to teach school today, and I can't afford for him to know what I am."