Burnt Offerings ab-7

by Laurell Hamilton

  "How do you know all this?"

  "I listen. Reporters make good listeners."

  We stared at each other. "Tell me the rest."

  Irving looked down, then up. "He doesn't discuss you with me. The only thing he said was that even you couldn't accept what he was. Even you, the Executioner, were horrified."

  It was my turn to look down. "I didn't want to be."

  "We can't change how we feel," Irving said.

  I met his eyes. "I would if I could."

  "I believe you."

  "I don't want Richard dead."

  "None of us do. I'm afraid of what Sylvie would do without anyone to stop her." He motioned to the other bed. "First order of business would be hunting down all the wereleopards. We'd slaughter them."

  I took in a deep breath and let it out. "I can't change how I feel about what I saw, Irving. I saw Richard eat Marcus." I paced the small room, shaking my head. "What can I do to help?"

  "Call the pack and demand that they acknowledge you as lupa. Make some of them come here and guard both of them against Sylvie's express orders. But you have to give them your protection. You have to promise them that she won't hurt them, because you'll see to it that she can't."

  "If I do that and Sylvie doesn't like it, I'll have to kill her. It's like I'm setting her up to be killed. That's a little premeditated even for me."

  He shook his head. "I'm asking you to be our lupa. To be Richard's lupa. To show Sylvie that if she keeps pressing, Richard may not kill her, but you will."

  I sighed. "Shit."

  "I'm sorry, Anita. I wouldn't have said anything, but ... "

  "I needed to know," I said. I hugged him, and he stiffened in surprise, then hugged me back.

  "What was that for?"

  "For telling me. I know Richard won't like it."

  The smile faded from his face. "Richard has punished two pack members since he took over. They challenged his authority, big time, and he nearly killed them both."

  "What?" I asked.

  "He sliced them up, Anita. He was like someone else, something else."

  "Richard doesn't do things like that."

  "He does now, not all the time. Most of the time he's fine, but then he snaps and goes into a rage. I don't want to be anywhere near him when he loses it."

  "How bad has he gotten?" I asked.

  "He's got to accept what he is, Anita. He's got to embrace his beast, or he's going to drive himself mad."

  I shook my head. "I can't help him love his beast, Irving. I can't accept it either."

  Irving shrugged. "It's not so bad being furry, Anita. There are worse things ... like being the walking dead."

  I frowned at him. "Get out, Irving, and thanks for telling me."

  "I hope you're still thankful in a week."

  "Me, too."

  Irving gave me some phone numbers and left. Didn't want anyone to stay too long. People might suspect him of being more than just a reporter. No one seemed to worry about my reputation. I raised zombies, slew vampires, and was dating the Master of the City. If people began to suspect me of being a shapeshifter, what the hell difference would it make?

  Three names of submissive pack members who Irving thought were tough enough to play bodyguard and weak enough to be bullied. I didn't want to do this. The pack was based on obedience: punishment and reward, mostly punishment. If the pack members I called refused me, I had to punish them, or I wasn't lupa, wasn't strong enough to back Richard. Of course, he probably wouldn't be grateful. He seemed to hate me now. I didn't blame him. He'd hate me interfering.

  But it wasn't just Richard. It was Stephen. He'd saved my life once and I still hadn't returned the favor. He was also one of those people that was everyone's victim, until today. Yeah, Zane had nearly killed him, but that wasn't the point. He'd put friendship above pack loyalty. Which meant that Sylvie could withdraw pack protection from him. He'd be like the wereleopards, anybody's meat. I couldn't let that happen to him, not if I could stop it.

  Stephen might end up dead. Richard might end up dead. I might have to kill Sylvie. I might have to maim or kill a few pack members to make my point. Might, might, might. Damn.

  I'd never killed before except in self-defense or for revenge. If I put my hat in the ring, it would be premeditated, cold-blooded murder. Maybe not in a technical sense, but I knew what I would be starting in motion. It was like dominoes. They all stayed straight and neat until you hit one of them; then there was no stopping them. I would end up with a pretty pattern on the floor: Richard solidly in power, Stephen and the wereleopards safe, Sylvie backed down, or dead. The first three things were going to happen. It was Sylvie's choice how the last bit turned out. Harsh, but true. Of course, there was one other option. Sylvie could kill me. That would sort of open things up for her again. Sylvie wasn't exactly ruthless, but she didn't let anyone get in her way. We shared that trait. No, I am not ruthless. If I was, I'd have just called Sylvie into a meeting and shot her on the spot. I wasn't quite sociopath enough to do it. Mercy will get you killed, but sometimes it's all that makes us human.

  I made the calls. I chose a man's name first, Kevin, no last name. His voice was thick with sleep, gruff, like he smoked.

  "Who the hell is this?"

  "Gracious," I said, "very gracious."

  "Who is this?"

  "It's Anita Blake. Do you know who I am?" When trying to be threatening, less is more. Me and Clint Eastwood.

  He was quiet for nearly thirty seconds, and I let the silence build. His breath had sped up. I could almost feel his pulse quickening over the phone.

  He answered like he was used to strange phone calls and pack business. "You're our lupa."

  "Very good, Kevin, very good." Condescending is also good.

  He coughed to clear his throat. "What do you want?"

  "I want you to come down to St. Louis University Hospital. Stephen and Nathaniel have been hurt. I want you to guard them for me."

  "Nathaniel, he's one of the wereleopards."

  "That's right."

  "Sylvie's forbidden us to help the wereleopards."

  "Is Sylvie your lupa?" Questions are great, but only if you know the answers. If you ask questions and the answers surprise you, you look silly. Hard to be threatening when you look ill-informed.

  He was quiet for a second. "No."

  "Who is?"

  I heard him swallow. "You are."

  "Do I outrank her?"

  "You know you do."

  "Then get your butt down here, and do what I ask."

  "Sylvie will hurt me, lupa. She really will."

  "I'll see that she doesn't."

  "You're just Richard's human girlfriend. You can't fight Sylvie, not and live."

  "You're right, Kevin. I can't fight Sylvie, but I can kill her."

  "What do you mean?"

  "If she hurts you for helping me, I'll kill her."

  "You can't mean that."

  I sighed. "Look, Kevin, I've met Sylvie. Trust me when I say that I could point a gun at her head and pull the trigger. I can and will kill Sylvie if she forces me to. No jokes, no bluffs, no games." I listened to my voice as I said it. I sounded tired, almost bored, and so serious it was almost frightening.

  "All right, I'll do it, but if you let me down she may kill me."

  "You have my protection, Kevin, and I know what that means in the pack."

  "It means I have to acknowledge you as dominant to me," he said.

  "It also means that if anyone challenges you, I can help you fight your battles. Seems like a fair trade."

  Silence filled the phone lines again. His breathing had slowed, deepened. "Promise me you won't get me killed."

  "I can't promise that, Kevin, but I can promise that if Sylvie kills you, I'll kill her for you."

  Silence, shorter this time. "I believe you would. I'll be at the hospital in forty minutes or less."

  "Thanks, I'll be waiting."

  I hung up and made the other two calls.
They both agreed to come down. I'd drawn a line in the sand with Sylvie on one side and me on the other. She wasn't going to like it, not one little bit. Couldn't blame her. If our places were reversed, I'd have been pissed. But she should have left Richard alone. Irving had said it was like Richard was wounded, like the heart had gone out of him. I'd helped put that wound there. I'd cut his heart into tiny little pieces and danced on them. Not deliberately. My intentions were good, but you know what they say about good intentions.

  I couldn't love Richard, but I could kill for him. Killing was the more practical of the two gifts. And lately I'd become very, very practical.

  6

  Sergeant Rudolph Storr showed up before the baby-sitting werewolves could arrive. I'd called him myself. He was the man in charge of the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team, RPIT, or RIP. A lot of people call us RIP, for Rest in Peace. Hey, at least they know who we are.

  Dolph is six foot eight, built like a pro-wrestler, but it isn't just physical size that makes him impressive. He'd taken a squad that had been meant as a joke to appease the liberals and made it work. RPIT had solved more preternatural crimes in the last three years than any other police unit. Including the FBI. Dolph had even been invited up to lecture at Quantico. Not bad for someone who'd been given his command as a punishment. Dolph wasn't exactly an optimist, few cops are, but give him lemons and he made damn fine lemonade.

  He closed the door behind him and stared down at me. "The doctor said my detective was in here. I just see you."

  "I never said I was a detective. I said I was with the squad. They assumed the rest."

  He shook his head. His black hair actually hid the tops of his ears. He was overdue for a hair cut. "If you were playing cop, why didn't you yell at the uniform that was supposed to be on this door?"

  I smiled up at him. "I thought I'd leave that to you. I assume he knows that he was a bad boy."

  "I took care of it," Dolph said.

  He stayed standing at the door. I stayed sitting in my chair. I'd actually managed not to pull my gun on him. I was happy about that. He was staring at me hard enough to hurt without flashing a gun at him.

  "What's going on, Anita?"

  "You know everything I know," I said.

  "How did you happen to be Johnny-on-the-spot?"

  "Stephen called me."

  "Tell me," he said.

  I told him. I even put in the part about the pimping. I wanted that stopped. The cops are pretty good at stopping crime, if you tell the truth. I left out a few things, like me having killed the wereleopards' old alpha. It was the only thing I left out. For me, it was almost the same as being honest.

  Dolph blinked at me and took it all down in his trusty notebook. "Are you saying that our victim allowed someone to do this to him?"

  I shook my head. "I don't think it's that simple. I think he went there knowing they'd chain him up. He knew there'd be sex and pain, but I don't think he knew they'd come this close to killing him. The doctors actually had to give him blood. His body was going into shock faster than it could fix itself."

  "I've heard of wereanimals healing from worse wounds than this," Dolph said.

  I shrugged. "Some people heal better than others even among the shapeshifters. Nathaniel is pretty low in the power structure, so I'm told. Maybe part of being weak is not healing as well." I spread my hands wide. "I don't know."

  Dolph searched back through his notes. "Someone dropped him off at the emergency entrance wrapped in a sheet. No one saw anything. He just appeared."

  "No one ever sees anything, Dolph. Isn't that the rule?"

  That earned me a small smile. It was nice to see the smile. Dolph wasn't too happy with me lately. He'd only recently found out that I was dating the Master of the City. He didn't like it. He didn't trust anyone that socialized with the monsters. Couldn't blame him.

  "Yeah, that's the rule. Are you telling me everything you know about this, Anita?"

  I raised a hand in a scout's salute. "Would I lie to you?"

  "If it suited your purpose, yes."

  We stared at each other. The silence grew thick enough to walk on. I let it sit there. If Dolph thought I was going to break first, he was wrong. The strain between us wasn't this case. It was his disapproval of my choice of dates. His disappointment in me was always there now. Pressing, weighted, waiting for me to apologize or say, shucks, just kidding. The fact that I was dating a vampire made him trust me less. I understood. Two months ago, even less, and I'd have felt the same way. But here I was dating who, and what, I was dating. Dolph and I, both, had to deal with it.

  And yet, he was my friend, and I respected him. I even agreed with him, but if I could ever get out of this damn hospital, I had a date with Jean-Claude tonight. Regardless of my doubts about Richard, morals in general, and the walking dead, I wanted the date. The thought of Jean-Claude waiting for me made my body tight and warm. Embarrassing, but true. I don't think anything short of giving up Jean-Claude would have satisfied Dolph. I wasn't sure that was an option anymore for a lot of reasons. So I sat and looked at Dolph. He stared back. The silence grew thicker with each tick of the clock.

  A knock on the door saved us. The officer, now attentively on the door, whispered something to Dolph. Dolph nodded and closed the door. The look he gave me was even less friendly, if that was possible.

  "Officer Wayne says that there are three relatives of Stephen's out here. He also says that if they're all relatives, he'll eat his gun."

  "Tell him to pucker up," I said. "They're fellow pack members. Werewolves consider that closer than family."

  "But legally it's not family," Dolph said.

  "How many of your men you want to lose when the next shapeshifter comes through that door?"

  "We can shoot them just as good as you can, Anita."

  "But you still have to give them a warning before you shoot them, don't you? You still have to treat them like people instead of monsters or you end up in front of the review board."

  "Witnesses say you gave Zane, no last name, a warning."

  "I was feeling generous."

  "You were shooting him in front of witnesses. That always makes you generous."

  We went back to staring at each other. Maybe it wasn't just dating a vampire. Maybe it was the fact that Dolph was the ultimate cop and he was beginning to suspect that I was killing people, murdering people. People who hurt me or threatened me did have a tendency to vanish. Not many, but enough. And less than two months ago I'd killed two people where the bodies couldn't be hidden. Self-defense both times. Never saw the inside of a courtroom. Both assassins with records longer than I was tall. The woman's fingerprints had been the answer to several political killings that Interpol had lying around. Big-time bad guys that no one really mourned, at least not the cops.

  But it fed Dolph's suspicions. Hell, it did everything but confirm them.

  "Why'd you recommend me to Pete McKinnon, Dolph?"

  He didn't answer for so long, I thought he wasn't going to, but finally he said, "Because you're the best at what you do, Anita. I may not always approve of your methods, but you help save lives, put away the bad guys. You're better on a murder scene than some of the detectives on my squad."

  For Dolph, this was a speech. I opened my mouth, closed it, then said, "Thanks, Dolph. Coming from you, that's a big compliment."

  "You just spend too much time with the damn monsters, Anita. I don't mean who you date. I mean all of it. You've played by their rules so long, sometimes you forget what it's like to be normal."

  I smiled. "I raise the dead for a living, Dolph. I've never been normal."

  He shook his head. "Don't purposely misunderstand what I'm saying, Anita. It's not the fur or the fangs that make you a monster, not always. Sometimes, it's just where you draw the line."

  "The fact that I play with monsters is what makes me valuable to you, Dolph. If I played it straight, I wouldn't be as good helping you solve preternatural crimes."

&nbs
p; "Yeah, sometimes I wonder if I'd left you alone, not gotten you to consult with us, if you'd be ... softer."

  I frowned at him. "Are you saying you blame yourself for what I've become?" I tried to laugh it off, but his face stopped me.

  "How often did you go to the monsters on one of my cases? How often did you have to make bargains with them to help put away a bad guy? If I'd left you alone ... "

  I stood up. I reached out to him, then let my hand fall back without touching him. "I'm not your daughter, Dolph. You're not my keeper. I help the police because I like it. I'm good at it. And who else you gonna call?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, who else? The shifters outside can come in and ... visit the patients."

  "Thanks, Dolph."

  He took in a long breath and let it out in a big rush of air. "I saw the window that your friend Stephen got shoved through. If he'd been human, he'd be dead. It's just luck that no civilians were killed."

  I shook my head. "I think Zane was being careful of the humans, at least. With the strength he has, it would have been easier to kill than to maim."

  "Why would he have cared?"

  "Because he's in jail, and he gets a bail hearing."

  "They won't let him out," Dolph said.

  "He didn't kill anyone, Dolph. Since when haven't you seen someone not get bail for assault and battery?"

  "You think like a cop, Anita. It's what makes you good."

  "I think like a cop and like a monster. That's what makes me good."

  He nodded, closed his notebook and slipped it into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Yeah, that's what makes you good." He left without another word. He sent in the three werewolves and closed the door.

  Kevin was tall, dark, scruffy and smelled like cigarettes. Lorraine was neat and prim like a second-grade schoolteacher. She smelled of White Linen perfume and blinked nervously at me. Teddy, his preference not mine, weighed around three hundred pounds, most of it muscle. He'd buzzed his hair down to a fine dark prickle, and his head looked too small for his massive body. The men looked scary, but it was Lorraine's handshake that left power vibrating down my skin. She looked like a scared rabbit and had enough power to be the big bad wolf.