Burnt Offerings ab-7

by Laurell Hamilton

  "We're monsters, Anita. You can't have good press if you're a monster."

  "You don't believe that."

  "You believe we're monsters, Anita. You proved that. You'd rather sleep with a corpse than let me touch you."

  "What do you want me to say, Richard? That I'm sorry I couldn't cope? I am sorry. That I'm still embarrassed that I ran to Jean-Claude's bed? I am. That I think less of myself for not being able to love you even after what I saw you do to Marcus?"

  "You wanted me to kill Marcus."

  "He was going to kill you if you didn't. So yeah, I wanted you to kill Marcus. But I didn't tell you to eat him."

  "When a pack member is killed in a dominance struggle, we all feed. It's a way to absorb their energy. Marcus and Raina aren't really gone as long as the pack remains."

  "You ate Raina, too?"

  "Where did you think the bodies went? Did you think your friends on the police force had hidden all the corpses?"

  "I thought Jean-Claude had arranged it."

  "He did, but it was the pack that did the dirty work. The vampires don't care about a body once it's cold. If the blood isn't warm, they don't want it."

  I almost asked if he preferred warm flesh to cold, but didn't. I didn't really want to know. This entire conversation was going nowhere that I wanted to be. I looked at the watch on my wrist. "I've got to go, Richard."

  "Go rescue your wereleopards."

  I looked at him. "Yes."

  "That's why I'm here. I'm your backup."

  "Was that Jean-Claude's idea?"

  "Sylvie told me that Gregory refused to harm her. Regardless of what they did under Gabriel, they're lycanthropes and we help our own even if they aren't lukoi."

  "Do the wereleopards have a fancy name for themselves?" I asked.

  He nodded. "They call themselves pard. The werewolves are the lukoi. The leopards are the pard."

  I walked past him, shoulder brushing his bare arm. That one touch raised the hairs on my body like he'd touched something much more personal. But I'd get used to it. I'd made my choice, and no matter how confused I was, I wasn't that confused. So I still lusted after Richard, even loved him. I'd picked the vampire, and you can't have your vampire and your werewolf, too.

  I got the machine gun out from under the bed and slid the strap across my chest.

  "Jean-Claude said that we weren't supposed to kill anybody," Richard said.

  "He knew you were coming here?" I asked.

  He nodded.

  I smiled, but it wasn't happy.

  "He didn't tell you?" Richard asked.

  "No."

  We were left looking at each other again. "You can't trust him, Anita, you know that."

  "You're the one who let him give you the first mark voluntarily. What I did, Richard, I did to save your lives, both of you. If you really thought he was so damn untrustworthy, why'd you bind us to him?"

  Richard looked away then, and spoke very softly, "I didn't think I'd lose you."

  "Go wait in the hall, Richard."

  "Why?"

  "I've got to finish getting dressed."

  His gaze slid to my legs, very white against the blackness of the dress and the heels. "Hose," he said, softly.

  "A new holster, actually," I said. "The hose got trashed last night. Now, please get out."

  He did. He didn't even make a last cutting remark. It was an improvement. When he closed the door behind him, I sat down on the bed. I did not want to do this. Going back in for the leopards was a bad idea. Going in with Richard as backup was worse. But we'd do it. I couldn't tell him to stay home. Besides, I needed the backup. No matter how emotionally painful it was to be around him, he was one of the most powerful shapeshifters I'd ever met. If he hadn't been crippled by a conscience the size of Rhode Island, he'd have been dangerous. Of course, Marcus would probably have said Richard was plenty dangerous just as he was. And he'd be right.

  27

  Richard drove his 4 X 4 to the Circus. I sat beside him, but in some ways I might as well not have been there at all. He never looked at me, let alone spoke. But the tension in his body was enough. He knew I was there.

  Cherry and Zane rode in the back seat. It had surprised me when Cherry slid into the car. Her eyes flashed white, eyelids fluttering like a nervous tic. She looked like she was going to faint. Zane was his usual self; smiling, eyes secret. His usual self? That was almost funny. I'd known him less than twenty-four hours. I didn't know what the hell was "usual" for him.

  Cherry had sunk down on the seat, hugging herself. She was slowly curling into a little ball. I'd known her less time than I'd known Zane, but this wasn't normal for anybody.

  I turned as far as the seat belt would allow and said, "What's wrong, Cherry?"

  Her eyes rolled to me, then closed, tight. She shook her head and huddled further into herself. There was a fresh bruise forming on her cheek. She might have had it when I first saw her. I just wasn't sure.

  "Zane, what's wrong with her?"

  "She's scared," he said. His voice was neutral, but there was something in his face that was angry.

  "I told her this was strictly voluntary. She doesn't have to come."

  "Tell that to Mr. Macho," he said. He was staring at the back of Richard's head.

  I turned in the seat until I was staring at his profile. He wouldn't look at me. "What's going on, Richard?"

  "She's coming," he said, voice very quiet.

  "Why?"

  "Because I said so."

  "Bullshit."

  He glanced at me then. He tried for it to be a cool look, but it was angry. "You're my lupa, but I am still Ulfric. My word is still law."

  "Fuck that. You are not dragging her into this because you're mad at me."

  The muscle in his jaw clenched tight enough for me to see it. "They both deserted their people. Now they are both going to make it right." His voice was still quiet, low, and careful, like if he wasn't very careful he'd lose control. He spoke like people talk when they want to yell.

  "Look at her, Richard. She'll be worse than useless. She'll just be one more victim we have to keep safe."

  He shook his head. "You don't leave one of your own behind, not for any reason. It's the law."

  "Pack law, but she's not pack."

  "Until you stop being my lupa, Anita, what belongs to you, belongs to me."

  "You arrogant prick."

  He smiled, but it was just a baring of teeth, more snarl than humor. "Everyone has to do something to take the edge off."

  It took me a second to realize what he meant, then I was embarrassed. But I'd be damned if I'd sit there and explain that I hadn't meant it literally. He knew I hadn't meant it literally. He was trying to embarrass me. Fuck it. "Did you hit Cherry?"

  He was suddenly very interested in the road, but his hands smoothed on the steering wheel. He didn't like that he'd hit her. Neither did I.

  "You wanted me to be strong. Well, you got your wish."

  "There is a difference between being strong and being cruel, Richard."

  "Really? I never could tell the difference."

  I think that last was meant for me. But you can only make me feel guilty for so long, and then I just get mad. "Fine, if what belongs to me belongs to you, then it works the other way too."

  He glanced at me, frowning. "What do you mean?"

  I liked the unease in his face. I enjoyed turning his logic back on him. In my own way, I was just as angry at him as he was at me. I didn't have his moral high ground, but I hadn't turned cannibal either. Maybe I did have some moral high ground, after all.

  "If you can force Cherry to go with us, then I can order the pack to guard Stephen. I can order them to do any damn thing I'm dominant enough to make them do."

  "No," he said.

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Because I said so."

  I laughed then, and even to me it sounded bitchy.

  He screamed, a long ragged yell of frustration and anger. "God, Ani
ta, God."

  "We're going to cut each other up if we don't work something out," I said.

  He glanced at me again. His eyes weren't angry anymore. They were almost panic-stricken. "You're sleeping with the vampire. There's nothing to work out."

  "The three of us are bound to each other for what could be a very, very long time, Richard. We're going to have to find a way to live together."

  He laughed, and it was bitter. "Live together? You want a house for three with Jean-Claude down in the basement and me chained out in the yard?"

  "Not exactly, but you can't keep hating yourself like this."

  "It's not me I hate. It's you."

  I shook my head. "If that were true, I'd leave you alone. But you hate your beast and your beast is you."

  He pulled in front of the Circus. "We're here." He turned off the engine and silence filled the car. "Cherry can wait here."

  "Thank you, Richard," I said.

  He shook his head. "Don't thank me, Anita." He smoothed his hands over his face into his hair, combing his fingers through it. The gesture showed his arms and chest to wonderful advantage. He'd never been aware of how much the simplest thing he did had moved me. "Don't thank me." He got out of the car.

  I told Cherry to stay low. I didn't want them to get any ideas about taking her while we were inside rescuing the others. It would sort of defeat the purpose of the entire trip.

  Zane kissed her on the forehead the way you'd calm a child. He told her everything would be all right, that I'd keep them safe. God, I hoped he was right.

  28

  A man had walked up to meet Richard. He'd been waiting for him. I reached in the coat pocket and clicked off the safety on the Browning because I knew him.

  Zane, who was very close behind me asked, "Is something wrong?"

  I shook my head. "Hello, Jamil."

  "Hello, Anita." He was just shy of six feet, wearing a white tank top almost the twin of the one Richard wore. Except that Jamil had cut out the neck, arms, and chopped out the middle of the shirt so that his slender waist and cobblestone abs showed. The white tank top was in startling contrast to the rich solid brown of his skin. His hair was waist-length, worked in thin corn rows intertwined with bright beads. He was wearing white sweat pants and looked like he'd just come from the gym.

  The last time I'd seen Jamil he'd been trying to kill Richard. "What are you doing here?" Even to me it didn't sound friendly.

  He smiled, a quick baring of teeth. "I'm Richard's enforcer."

  "So?"

  "They allowed us each one backup, plus the wereleopards," Richard said. He spoke without looking at me, staring at the front of the Circus rising into the bright sunlight.

  "I'm short one wereleopard and a backup," I said.

  He did look at me then. His face was as closed and guarded as I'd seen it. "I thought Jean-Claude had told you, and you'd just decided against any backup."

  "I'd take backup into hell, Richard. You know that."

  "Don't blame me if your boyfriend forgot to mention it."

  "He probably thought you'd mention it."

  He just looked at me with his angry eyes.

  "Is there anything else you forgot to tell me?"

  "He just said to tell you, don't kill anyone."

  "He mention anyone in particular not to kill?" I asked.

  Richard frowned then. "As a matter of fact, he did." He said the next in a bad French accent. "Tell ma petite not to kill Fernando no matter what the provocation."

  It brought a tight smile to my face. "Fine."

  Jamil was staring at me. "The look on your face, babe. That is the most evil little smile I've ever seen. What did this Fernando do to you?"

  "To me personally, nothing."

  "He raped your Geri, your second in command," Zane said.

  Both of the werewolves stared at him, a sudden flash of hostility that made Zane step back. He moved a little behind me, which didn't quite work since he was nearly a foot taller. Hard to cower behind someone who's shorter than you are.

  "He raped Sylvie?" Richard asked.

  I nodded.

  "He has to be punished," Richard said.

  I shook my head. "I told Sylvie I'd kill him. That we'd kill them all."

  "All?" Richard made it a question.

  "All," I said.

  He looked away then, not meeting my eyes. He asked without turning around, "How many?"

  "Two that she's told me about. There may be more, but if there is, she's not ready to talk about it yet."

  "You're sure there was more than just this Fernando?" Richard looked at me, eyes hopeful, almost like he wanted me to tell him it wasn't really as bad as it seemed.

  "It was gang rape, Richard. They took great pride in telling me that."

  "Who was the second one?" he asked.

  He asked. I answered. "Liv."

  He blinked at me. "She's a woman."

  "I'm aware of that."

  He just stared at me. "How?"

  I raised eyebrows at him. "You really want me to get that technical?"

  Richard shook his head. He looked ill. Jamil didn't. He met my eyes without flinching, his face thinned into tight angry lines. "If they can take one of our highest wolves and use her like that, then the pack's threat means nothing."

  "That, too," I said. "But I'm not going to kill someone just to keep the pack's rep in good repair."

  "Then why?" Jamil said.

  I thought about that for a second. "Because I gave my word I'd do it. They dug their grave when they touched her. All I'm doing is filling in the dirt."

  "Why?" Jamil said. "You hated Sylvie." It seemed important to him that I answer, as if the question meant more than it should have, at least to him.

  "They didn't break her. All that they did to her, and they couldn't break her. She could have stopped the torture by giving up the pack. She didn't give them up." I tried to put it all into words. "That kind of loyalty and strength deserves the same in return."

  "What do you know about loyalty?" Richard asked.

  "That's it," I said. I turned to him and poked a finger in his chest. "We can have one knock-down-glorious fight after we save Gregory and Vivian. They gang-raped Sylvie. Do you really think they're doing less to two shapeshifters that they thought had no alpha to protect them?" I was spitting every word into his face, voice squeezed tight and low, because if I let go, I'd be screaming. "We are going to get them out and take them some place safe. When we do all that, then you can go back to being pissed at me. You can wrap your jealousy and self-hatred around us both until we choke. But right this second, we have work to do. Okay?"

  He looked at me for a heartbeat or two, then gave the barest of nods. "Okay."

  "Great," I said. I'd abandoned my purse at the hospital, but I had the key to the front door in my coat pocket along with ID. What else did a girl need?

  "You have a key to the front door?" Richard asked.

  "Drop it, Richard," I said.

  "You're right. You're right, and I'm wrong. I haven't been paying attention to business for two months. Sylvie told me that. I didn't listen. Maybe if I had, she ... Maybe if I'd been listening, she wouldn't have gotten hurt."

  "Jesus, Richard, don't pull another guilt trip on me. You could be Attila the Hun, and the council would still have come. No show of strength would have kept them out."

  "What would have?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "They are the council, Richard. The stuff of nightmares. Nightmares don't care how strong you are."

  "What do they care about?" he asked.

  I shoved the key into the lock. "Scaring you." The big double doors pushed inward. I drew the Browning out of my pocket.

  "We aren't supposed to kill anybody," Richard said.

  "I remember," I said, but I kept the gun out. I couldn't kill anybody, but Jean-Claude hadn't said I couldn't maim someone. It might not be as satisfying, but when you need to back up your threat, someone writhing on the floor in pain is almost
as good as a body. Sometimes it's better.

  29

  I stood with my back to the closed door, the others fanned out around me. Soft filtered light came down from the high, high windows. The midway looked dark and tired in the morning sunlight. The Ferris wheel towered over the haunted house and mirror maze and the game booths. It was a complete traveling carnival that didn't travel. It smelled like it was suppose to: cotton candy, corn dogs, funnel cakes.

  Two men stepped out of the huge circus tent that took up one entire corner. They walked towards us side by side. The taller man was about six foot, square-shouldered, with hair that was somewhere between blond and brown. The hair was straight, thick, and just long enough to trail the edge of his shirt collar. White dress shirt tucked into white jeans, complete with white belt. He wore white loafers, no socks. He looked like he should have been walking along a beach in a credit-card commercial, except for his eyes. Even from a distance there was something odd about his eyes. They were orangish. People didn't have eyes that color.

  The second man was about five foot seven, with dark gold hair cut very short. A brownish mustache graced his upper lip and curved back to meet brownish sideburns. Nobody had worn a mustache like that since the 1800's. His white pants were tight and slid into polished black boots. A white vest and a white shirt peeked out from beneath a red jacket. He looked like he should have been riding to the hounds, chasing small furred animals.

  His eyes were a nice normal brown. But the first man's eyes just got stranger the closer he came to us. His eyes were yellow -- not amber, not brown -- yellow with orange spikes radiating from the pupil like a pinwheel of color. They were not human eyes, no way, no how.

  If it hadn't been for the eyes, I wouldn't have recognized him as a lycanthrope, but the eyes gave it away. I'd seen pictures of tigers with eyes like that.

  They stopped a little distance from us. Richard moved up beside me, Zane and Jamil at our backs. We all stood looking at each other. If I hadn't known better. I'd have said that the two men looked uncomfortable or embarrassed.