“Let the customers go first, like you promised.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose I did.” The man was speaking, but it was really Vittorio using his body to do the talking. His ability to manipulate humans had grown more complex, more complete, in less than twenty-four hours. He had to die.
The man walked back through the doors. A few minutes later, people ran out. Dozens of them spilling out into the street into the arms of the waiting police, who hurried them to safety.
The man was in the door. He motioned toward it. “After you, Anita, and Sergeant Rocco, you said.”
“Yes.”
“Come on down,” he said, in a mock announcer voice.
“Let the man go, too,” I said.
“I said customers; he works behind the bar,” the man said, talking about himself in the third person. He even had the smile Vittorio had used in the dream. It was an unsettling echo on the stranger’s face, like a face on the wrong person.
The body he was using held the door for us. “Come inside, out of the heat.”
Rocco and I looked at each other; then we lowered our hands, slowly, and went for the door. Neither of us looked back; we wanted to give our eyes as much time as possible to adjust to the darker interior of the club.
The dancers were huddled in the center of the room, at the chairs where the customers usually sat. They looked up hopefully as we entered, but the jinn with the knives was in front of us, and that got our attention. It was tempting to have Rocco say the words now, but I was certain if we did that, he’d kill some of his other hostages. Our goal was to get them all out, not just part, so we waited for a better moment. I admit that staring into the nothingness that was holding all those blades was hard. Turning our backs on it was harder, but we followed the man.
I felt the air move close to me and jerked back instinctively. I felt the passage of wind. A different jinn had tried to touch me. The man said, “You avoided his touch; not many humans are fast enough or psychic enough for that, but then you aren’t human, are you?”
I ignored the question, but I swear that the jinn’s attention wasn’t as neutral now. I’d almost say hostile, but maybe that was just nerves talking. Maybe.
Rocco whispered, “I don’t think they like you now.”
“You feel it, too.”
“Oh, yes.”
The man opened the door and held it for us, with a smile. I moved ahead of Rocco, as we’d discussed. Vittorio wanted me alive; he didn’t have the same feeling about the sergeant. So he had to bite his pride and let me take the most chances. Besides, we needed him alive to say the words over the jinn.
The back room was as I’d seen it through Vittorio’s eyes. Rick and Brianna were on their feet, arms stretched to the ceiling, where they were chained. Brianna was crying; her robe had come undone, and she was as naked underneath as she had been that first night when Ted and I were here. She stared at me over the tape that cut across her face. I could feel her terror coming off her in waves. It stirred the beasts inside me, and I told them to be quiet. For once, they listened. Rick wasn’t afraid, he was pissed. In fact, he was so angry, I wondered why he hadn’t shifted yet.
Ava was near Rick. She had a knife in her hand and played it along his skin as I watched. She didn’t cut him, just caressed him with it. There were weretigers scattered throughout the room. Their energy hummed through the air like wires stripped down, so you could feel the bite of it if you got too close. Most of them looked blank, as if waiting for instructions. How many people could he control at once, and how well?
I forced myself to see the room slowly, and not go straight to Requiem. I didn’t want to give Vittorio any more reason to hurt him. The more I cared, the more danger Requiem was in.
But Vittorio wasn’t standing by the table; he was sitting on the edge of the bed with Max and Bibiana. He’d stripped from the waist up so that his scars were very, very visible. They’d transferred Bibiana to the bed, she was tied with her hands above her head, around one bedpost, so that her body crossed one of Max’s arms, where his one arm was still tied to the one post. Her feet were chained to one of the bed legs, but she was short enough that her legs didn’t cross her husband’s body at the legs. She looked pale and delicate, a cliché princess waiting for rescue. Max was missing his shirt. Apparently, we’d had a little striptease while they waited, but he had kept his word. There was no new damage to their bodies, just some of their clothes.
“We’re here. Now what?”
“I want what I’ve wanted since I invited you to Vegas with my gift.”
“You mean the human head in a box?”
He smiled happily and nodded.
“Next time, just send a box of chocolates,” I said.
“Oh, but any man can do that. I thought my gift would be unique.”
I smiled, and could feel that it wasn’t a good smile. “Actually, I did receive a head in a basket once, as a gift.”
The smile was just gone, like it hadn’t existed. The old ones could do that—expression, then nothing in the blink of an eye. “Well, then, Anita, I will have to do something to prove myself unique among your admirers.”
I would have given a lot to take back that smart-ass comment. It had been true, but I could still have kept it to myself.
“Oh, trust me, this invitation was unique.”
“No, Anita, you’re right, I must try harder.” He was angry with me, as if I’d insulted him. “Let us play a game.”
“We came here to negotiate for the release of hostages,” Rocco said.
“And so we shall, Sergeant.” He patted Max’s bare stomach. “Come closer so you can see.”
We hesitated.
“Here is the first rule. When you make me repeat myself, something happens to one of your hostages.”
There was a sound from the other side of the room. Ava was carving a new cut down Rick’s chest. He didn’t scream, but a small sound had escaped him. Ava raised the blade to her mouth and licked the blood delicately away.
I turned back to Vittorio.
“You are not frightened or even impressed. I take it you’ve seen something similar before?”
I had, actually, more than once. Out loud, I said, “I don’t know what reaction you want from me; just tell me and I’ll try to give it to you.”
“What is the first rule?” he asked.
“That if we make you repeat your requests, you’ll have someone hurt.”
“Here is the second rule. I will offer you a chance to do something pleasant; if you refuse, then I will do something painful to the person instead. Is that clear enough, officers?”
I said, “Crystal.”
Rocco said, “Yes.”
“Come over beside the bed, both of you.”
We did it this time, no hesitating. We stood at the end of the bed on its raised dais, looking at Max and his wife, and the smiling sociopath beside them.
“Anita, give Max a kiss.”
“If I don’t?” I asked.
He drew a blade out from underneath the covers. “I will bleed him; one cut for one refusal.”
I took a breath in, then out. It seemed a small request, but I was betting that the requests wouldn’t stay small. “Okay, but if we do this, then you release one of the hostages.”
“For a kiss, it would have to be some kiss.”
I shrugged.
“If I refuse to free someone, are you prepared to watch me slice up the Master of the City?”
I thought furiously, and just didn’t know what to do. Vittorio made a shallow cut across Max’s stomach.
“I didn’t say no.”
“You broke rule number one. You hesitated. Now I’ll ask you again: kiss Max or I cut him.”
I just went to the bed, walked wide around Vittorio, and climbed up beside Max. I looked down into his blue eyes and said, “Sorry, Max.” I leaned over and laid a kiss across his taped mouth.
“Well, you did do what I asked, but that is hardly worth the release of a hos
tage.” He tapped the blade against his leg.
“Do you want me to kiss him better?”
“Take off the tape, and show me some of that talent I know you have.”
Bibiana made a sound through her tape. I looked across at her. “Sorry, Bibiana.” I took the tape off Max’s mouth.
“He’s going to kill us anyway, you know that.”
“Now, Max, what did I say about talking?”
“You said no talking back to you. I’m talking to Anita.”
“True.” Tap, tap, tap went the blade against his leg. “Well, Anita, kiss him like you mean it, and I’ll let your sergeant watch one of the dancers leave.”
I bent over and kissed him full on the mouth. His mouth was still under mine. I looked back at Vittorio. “A dancer, freed.”
“No.”
“What was wrong with this kiss?”
“Kiss him like you mean it.” There was no humor in him now, just a seriousness that I thought was more dangerous.
I stared down at Max. He was mostly bald, and round of face, but his biceps were huge, his shoulders deeply muscled. He’d begun life as an enforcer, and he’d stayed in shape for it. I could see his strength, but he just didn’t do it for me. I liked my men pretty and a little refined. Max was like a bully—big, scary, and nothing delicate about him—but I bent over him one more time. I touched his face, closed my eyes, and kissed him. Delicate, at first, then with more pressure, letting my arms slide over the hard, muscled bareness of him, and putting some body English into it. Max was absolutely still against me. Bibiana was making a high-pitched sound through the tape.
I turned to Vittorio.
“Very well, one dancer, but I want the next effort to be better, or the deal is off. Ava will choose who goes free, and Sergeant—Rocco, is it?—will watch from the door that the dancer gets away.”
Ava went out, Rocco watched from the door, and apparently they let a dancer go because Rocco came back nodding yes.
“I’ll give you a two-for-one deal,” Vittorio said. “Let the little dancer over there give you a lap dance; if it’s good, I’ll free her and another dancer.”
I walked over to Brianna without hesitation, but once I got there, I asked him, “What do you want to learn from making me do this?”
“Maybe I’m just like all men and have my little lesbian fantasies.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Sit in the chair by Ava.”
I sat in the chair; it didn’t hurt me, and I didn’t want to give them another excuse to hurt anyone. “Untie the girl.”
Ava did what she was told. Brianna took her own tape off her mouth, then looked at me. Her makeup had run down her face like black tears. She rubbed at her wrists and took a shaking step toward me in her spike-heeled sandals.
“I’m offering you the best tip you will ever get, Brianna. Give the marshal a lap dance, and if it’s good enough, I’ll set you and another of your friends free.”
Brianna took another staggering step toward me. I thought, She’s not going to be able to do it, she’s too afraid. He must have thought so, too, because he said, “If you refuse, or don’t do a good job of it, I will use the torch on that soft, pink, perfect skin.” He almost sounded bored.
Brianna dropped her robe to the ground and was in front of me. “Wait,” Vittorio said. We both looked at him. “Sergeant, take Anita’s place; let her dance for you.”
Rocco just started walking toward us. I got up, he sat down, and Brianna started to dance. She had no music, but whatever was playing in her head was something with a beat. She started a little jerky, but then closed her eyes and found her rhythm. It was a nice rhythm. She moved her body in waves up and down Rocco—who had a death grip on the chair he was sitting in, because the rules are the dancers can touch you, but you can’t touch the dancers.
Brianna ended up in his lap, straddling him, grinding her most intimate parts over the front of his pants. His face looked grim, and I was betting he was trying to think of baseball, taxes, dead kittens, anything but what the woman in his lap was doing.
I felt both sorry for him and happy it wasn’t me.
With a last writhe, she bowed herself backward, completely, her legs wrapped around Rocco and the chair itself. She bent back in a graceful arch, her high, tight breasts spilling backward, proving yet again that they were real.
Vittorio actually clapped. “Very good, and the sergeant has held his composure admirably. Flee, little dancer. Anita, watch her go to safety; I don’t think our dear sergeant can walk just yet.”
Brianna picked up her robe and went for the door as fast as her high heels could take her. “Pick another dancer to go out with you, Brianna.” She picked up the pace. I kept the door open and watched her go to the nearest dancer, grab her by the hand, and run out the door with her.
I did a quick head count. We had six dancers left. Six, and then we could get rid of the jinn and try to kill Vittorio. Just six more.
“I make the dancers entertain me before I kill them, Anita. I don’t usually let them go, though.”
“So this is part of your . . . usual.” I stopped there because any word I could come up with sounded too much like an insult.
“Yes.” He got up and walked to Rick. “I could control him, but only in part. I can’t control him or Victor completely as I can the others. They are too dominant, too much tiger. I could make either of them my servant through marks, but I cannot own them as I own the ones in the corner.” He moved so fast, it was barely visible.
Rocco said, “He mind-fucked me.”
“No, he didn’t,” I said, “he’s just that fast.”
Vittorio was standing back where he started, by the time the blood started trickling down Rick’s stomach.
“You didn’t ask us to do anything,” I said.
“So I didn’t. Ava, let another whore go.”
Ava just went to the door, and I watched as she tapped another woman. The woman ran out the door in a flashing square of sunlight. Five left.
“Anita, drink blood from the wound I just made on the weretiger.”
I didn’t like this one, but I went to Rick and knelt in front of him. The cut was just above the pants line, so I could reach. I was betting the placement hadn’t been accidental.
I put my hands on his belt to steady myself, then leaned up and licked the wound. It was blood, hot, salty, metallic. I put my mouth against the wound and sucked. It was sweet copper pennies on my tongue. But it was more than that, it was belly meat, soft, above the muscles, and that feeling that just underneath were soft, tender things. My hands locked around the back of his body, and I fought to only suck the wound, not bite down, not take more flesh. I drew back from the wound with a shaky breath. I felt dizzy, disoriented. I realized for the first time that though I’d fed on all the men this morning, Vittorio had taken all the energy of it. Beyond that, he’d taken more of my energy, so I was actually behind the curve. Fuck.
I got to my feet, having to steady myself against Rick’s body as I stood. I wiped my mouth with my hand, and knew I needed a rag or something to get the blood.
“Most people would have hesitated before drinking a lycanthrope’s blood,” Vittorio said.
“If we hesitate, you hurt them.”
“Ava, another dancer.” This time Rocco watched the hostage leave. Only four now.
He paced in a circle, tapping the blade against his leg. “I must come up with things that displease you, or I will run out of hostages before I get to hurt anyone again.” He turned to me with a huge smile. It tugged at the burned side of his face, so that the smile didn’t quite work. “Suck on something else; you can pick any of the men, just bring them. To give you more incentive, I’ll use the holy water on your fair friend again if you refuse.”
I looked from Rick to Requiem. “May I ask a question?”
“You may.”
“Has Requiem fed?”
“No.”
“Then you know he can
’t go orally or any other way until he’s taken blood.”
“Then you are left with only two choices unless you wish to include the sergeant.”
I fought not to look as uncomfortable as that extra suggestion made me. “Max hasn’t fed this morning either, so it has to be Rick. You’re only pretending to give me choices.”
“Then do him.” He was standing by Requiem now, and I realized that there was a line of holy water vials on the table above his head.
I went to Rick and started undoing his belt. Rick made a small protesting noise. I took a breath in, and blew it out. I whispered, “It’s not a fate worse than death, Rick.”
He went still in his chains and watched me undo his pants. I wasn’t sure if the patient watching was less uncomfortable to me, or the struggles and noises. I got his pants unzipped and worked his pants down over his ass; I wanted the zipper out of the way both for his safety and mine. I’d kept his underwear in place, and only moved it out of the way once I was kneeling in front of him. He was as lovely below the waist as above, and there were no cuts here yet; I was hoping to keep it that way.
I looked up the line of his body and found him watching me. His blue eyes were angry, yes, but there was something else in them now, too. Apparently, he’d taken my not a fate worse than death to heart, because there was that darkness in his eyes that every man gets at about this time. I took him in my hands and lowered him to my mouth. He was already erect enough that I had to bring him down to me, because he was pressed against the front of his own body. He slipped inside my mouth, as full and smooth and good as any. I liked giving oral sex. I liked the feel of it in my mouth, and the look on a man’s face while you did it. I liked the sounds they made, and the way their bodies reacted. I gave myself completely to the man in front of me, and the sensation of my mouth going over and around him. I kissed and sucked and licked, using my hand on him to guide and caress and squeeze. I let myself spill into the sex, and there was nothing else. I glanced up and found his eyes wide. His breathing quickened. He was so hard now, except for the soft smoothness of the tip of him. His body spasmed in the chains, and it wasn’t pain this time. He closed his eyes, head flung back, and I worked him in and out of my mouth quicker, in and out, in and out, as fast as I could. I tasted the first hint that he was close; the texture changed, ever so slightly, like a preview of what was to come.
[Anita Blake 17] - Skin Trade Page 54
