Bloody Bones ab-5

by Laurell Hamilton

  A cherrywood desk that looked like a genuine antique sat against the far wall. The connecting door was beside it but opened opposite so you wouldn't accidentally bump the desk. Monogrammed stationery graced the desk, along with a second telephone line for your modem I guess.

  I don't know if I'd ever stayed in a room this expensive. I doubted seriously if Beadle, Beadle, Stirling, and Lowenstein would want to pick up the tab now.

  A sound jerked me around. The Browning sort of materialized in my hand. I was staring down the barrel at Jean-Claude. He stood in the doorway leading to the bedroom. The shirt had long, full sleeves that had been gathered in three puffs down the length of the arm to end in a spill of cloth that framed his long, pale fingers. The collar was high and tied with a white cravat that spilled lace down the front of him tucked into a vest. It was black and velvety with pinpricks of silver on it. Thigh-high black boots fit his legs like a second skin.

  His hair was nearly as black as the vest, making it hard to tell where the curls ended and the velvety cloth began. A silver and onyx stickpin that I'd seen before pierced the white lace at his chest.

  "Well, ma petite, are you going to shoot me?"

  I was still standing there with the gun pointed at him. He had not moved. He had been very careful to do nothing that could be taken as threatening. His blue, blue eyes stared at me. Serious, waiting.

  I pointed the gun at the ceiling and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "How the hell did you get in here?"

  He smiled then, and pushed away from the doorjamb. He walked into the room with that wonderful gliding motion of his. Part cat, part dancer, part something else. Whatever the "else" was, it wasn't human.

  I put the gun away, though I wasn't sure I wanted to. It made me feel better having it in my hand. Trouble was, a gun wouldn't help me against Jean-Claude. Oh, if I was going to kill him it would, but that's not what we were doing lately. Lately we were—dating. Can you stand it? I wasn't sure I could.

  "The desk clerk let me in." His voice was very mild, amused, whether with himself or with me it was hard to tell.

  "Why would he do that?"

  "Because I asked him to." He walked around me like a shark circling its prey.

  I didn't turn with him. I stared straight ahead and let him circle me. It would only amuse him if I kept him in sight. The hairs at the back of my neck stood up. I took a step forward and felt his hand fall back. He'd been about to touch my shoulder. I didn't want him to touch me.

  "You used mind tricks on the desk clerk?"

  "Yes," he said. That one word was full of so much more. I turned towards him so I could see his face.

  He was staring at my legs. He raised his face to mine, and somehow that one quick gaze took in my entire body. His midnight blue eyes looked even darker than usual. We weren't sure how I was able to meet his gaze. I was beginning to suspect that being a necromancer had more fringe benefits than just being good with zombies.

  "Red becomes you, ma petite." His voice had grown softer, deeper. He moved closer to me, not touching. He knew better than that, but somehow his eyes showed where his hands wanted to be. "I like this very much."

  His voice was soft and warm, and far more intimate than his words. "Your legs are wonderful." His words were growing softer. A whisper in the dark that hovered around my body like a line of warmth. His voice was always like that, touchable. He still had the best voice I'd ever heard.

  "Stop it, Jean-Claude. I'm too short to have wonderful legs."

  "I do not understand this modern obsession with height." He ran his hands just above my hose, so close I could almost feel it like a breath of warmth against my skin.

  "Stop it," I said.

  "Stop what?" His voice was utterly mild, harmless. Ri-ight.

  I shook my head. Asking Jean-Claude not to be a pain in the ass was like asking rain not to be wet. Why try?

  "Fine, flirt all you want, but keep in mind that you're here to save the life of a young boy. A young boy who may be being raped while we sit here and waste time."

  He sighed deeply and walked towards me. Something must have shown on my face because he sat down in the other chair, not trying to come closer. "You have a habit, ma petite, of taking all the fun out of seducing you."

  "Yippee," I said. "Now, can we get down to business?"

  He smiled his lovely, perfect smile. "I had arranged to meet with the Master of Branson tonight."

  "Just like that," I said.

  "Isn't that what you wanted me to do?" he asked. His voice held that amused edge again.

  "Yeah. I'm just not used to you giving me exactly what I ask for."

  "I would give you anything you wanted, ma petite, if you would only let me."

  "I wanted you out of my life. You don't seem to want to do that."

  He sighed. "No, ma petite, I do not want to do that." He let it go at that. No accusations about me wanting to be with Richard instead of him. No vague threats on Richard's life. It was sort of odd.

  "You're up to something," I said.

  He turned, eyes wide, long fingers pressed to his heart. "Moi?"

  "Yeah, you," I said. I shook my head and let it go. He was up to something. I knew him well enough to know the signs, but I also knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't tell me until he was good and ready. Nobody kept a secret like Jean-Claude, and nobody else had as many of them. There was no deceit in Richard. Jean-Claude lived and breathed it.

  "I've got to change and pack before we can leave."

  "Change your lovely red skirt, why? Because I like it?"

  "Not just that," I said, "though admittedly it's a plus. I can't wear my inner pants holster with the skirt."

  "I will not argue that having a second gun will help our show of force tomorrow night."

  I stopped and turned. "What do you mean, tomorrow night?"

  He spread his hands wide. "It is too close to dawn, ma petite. We cannot even drive to the master's lair before the sun rises."

  "Dammit," I said softly and with feeling.

  "I did my part, ma petite. But even I cannot stop the sun from rising."

  I leaned against the back of the love seat, hands gripping the edge hard enough to hurt. I shook my head. "We're going to be too late to save him."

  "Ma petite, ma petite." He knelt in front of me, staring up at me. "Why does this boy bother you so very much? Why is his life so precious to you?"

  I stared down into Jean-Claude's perfect face, and had no answer. "I don't know."

  He laid his hands on top of my hands. "You're hurting yourself, ma petite."

  I moved my hands out from under his, crossing my arms over my stomach. Jean-Claude remained kneeling, a hand on either side of me. He was entirely too close to me, and I was suddenly very aware of how short the skirt was.

  "I have to go pack," I said.

  "Why? Don't you like your room?" Without moving, he seemed closer somehow. I could feel the line of his body against my legs like heat.

  "Move," I said.

  He leaned backwards, sitting on his heels, forcing me to move past him. The hem of my skirt brushed his cheek as I walked past. "You are such a pain in the ass."

  "So nice of you to notice, ma petite. Now, why are you leaving this lovely room?"

  "A client's paying for the room, and he's not a client anymore."

  "Why ever not, ma petite?"

  "I pulled a gun on him."

  His eyes widened, his face a perfect mask of surprise. The mask slipped and he stared at me with ancient eyes. Eyes that had seen much but still didn't know what to make of me. "Why would you do that?"

  "They were going to shoot a man for trespassing."

  "Was he trespassing?"

  "Technically, yeah."

  Jean-Claude just looked at me. "Does he not have the right to protect his own land?"

  "No, not if it means killing people. A piece of land isn't worth killing over."

  "Protecting our lands has been a valid excuse
for slaughter since the beginning of time, ma petite. Did you suddenly change the rules?"

  "I wasn't going to stand there and watch them kill a man for walking on a piece of ground. Besides, I think it was a setup."

  "A setup? You mean a plot to kill the man."

  "Yeah."

  "Were you part of this plot?"

  "I may have been bait. He could feel my power over the dead. It called to him."

  "Now that is interesting. What is this man's name?"

  "You give me the name of the mystery vampire first."

  "Xavier," he said.

  "Just like that. Why wouldn't you give me the name earlier?"

  "I do not want the police to have it."

  "Why not?"

  "I explained all that. Now, the name of the man you saved tonight."

  I stared at him, and didn't want to give it to him. I didn't like how interested he was in the name. But a deal was a deal. "Bouvier, Magnus Bouvier."

  "I do not know the name."

  "Should you?"

  He just smiled at me. It meant nothing and everything.

  "You are an irritating son of a bitch."

  "Ah, ma petite, how can I resist you when you whisper such sweet endearments to me?"

  I glared at him, which made him smile wider. There was just the faintest hint of fang peeking into view.

  Someone knocked on the door. Probably the manager telling me to get out. I walked to the door. I didn't bother looking through the peephole, so I was caught off guard by who was outside. It was Lionel Bayard.

  Had he come to throw us out in person?

  I stood there for a second, looking at him. He spoke first, clearing his throat nervously. "Ms. Blake, may I speak with you for a moment?"

  He was being awfully polite for someone who had come to kick us out. "I'm listening, Mr. Bayard."

  "I really don't think the hallway is the place to discuss this."

  I stepped to one side, ushering him into the room. He stepped past me, hands smoothing his tie. His gaze flicked to Jean-Claude, who was standing now. Jean-Claude smiled at Bayard. Pleasant, charming.

  "I didn't realize you had company, Ms. Blake. I can come back."

  I closed the door. "No, Mr. Bayard, it's all right. I told Jean-Claude about our misunderstanding this evening."

  "Ah, yes, uh..." Bayard looked from one to the other of us, as if not sure what to say.

  Jean-Claude didn't so much sit in the chair as fold his body around it. The movement was almost catlike. "Anita and I have no secrets from one another, Mr..."

  "Bayard, Lionel Bayard." He walked over and offered his hand to Jean-Claude. Jean-Claude raised an eyebrow but took the offered hand.

  The handshake seemed to make Bayard feel better. A normal gesture. He didn't know what Jean-Claude was. How he could look at him and think him human was beyond me. I'd only seen one vampire that could have passed for human, and he hadn't been human at all. Bayard turned back to me, adjusting his glasses, which didn't need adjusting. That nervous little gesture again. Something was up.

  "What's up, Bayard?" I asked. I'd closed the door and was leaning to one side of it, arms crossed over my stomach.

  "I'm here to offer our most sincere apologies for earlier tonight."

  I just stared at him. "You're apologizing to me?"

  "Yes. Mr. Stirling was overzealous. Why, if you had not been there to bring us all to our senses, a great tragedy might have occurred."

  I tried to keep my face blank. I wanted to frown at him, or look confused. "Stirling's not mad at me?"

  "On the contrary, Ms. Blake. He's grateful to you."

  I didn't believe that. "Really," I said.

  "Oh, yes. In fact, I've been authorized to offer you a bonus."

  "Why?"

  "To make up for our behavior tonight."

  "Your behavior was fine," I said.

  He smiled modestly. His act was about as sincere as faux pearls, but not half so realistic.

  "How much is the bonus?"

  "Twenty thousand," he said.

  I stayed leaning against the wall, staring at him. "No."

  He blinked at me. "Excuse me?"

  "I don't want the bonus."

  "I'm not authorized to go higher than twenty thousand, but I could speak with Mr. Stirling. Perhaps he would go higher."

  I shook my head and pushed away from the wall. "I don't want more money. I don't want the bonus at all."

  "You aren't quitting on us, are you, Ms. Blake?" He was blinking so fast I thought he'd pass out. Me quitting bothered him. A lot.

  "No, I'm not quitting. But you're already paying an enormous fee. You don't need to pay more."

  "Mr. Stirling is just very anxious that he has not offended you."

  I let that one go. Too easy. "Tell Mr. Stirling I'd have thought better of his apology if it had been delivered in person."

  "Mr. Stirling is a very busy man. He would have come himself, but he had pressing business."

  I wondered how often Bayard had to apologize for the big man. I wondered how often the apology was for telling a fellow flunkie to shoot someone. "Fine, you've delivered the message. Tell Mr. Stirling that it isn't the gunfight that's going to make me bail. I read the cemetery tonight. Some of the corpses are closer to three hundred than two hundred. Three hundred years, Lionel; that's an old zombie."

  "Can you raise them?" He had stepped closer, hands fidgeting with his lapels. He was close to invading my space. I'd have rather had Jean-Claude next to me.

  "Maybe. The question isn't can I, but will I, Lionel."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You lied to me, Lionel. You underestimated the age of the dead by nearly a century."

  "Not deliberately, Ms. Blake, I assure you. I merely repeated what our research department told me. I did not deliberately mislead you."

  "Sure."

  He reached out almost like he wanted to touch me. I moved back, just enough. He seemed terribly intense. He let his hand drop. "Please, Ms. Blake, I did not lie on purpose."

  "The problem, Lionel, is that I'm not sure I can raise zombies this old without a human sacrifice. Even I have my limits."

  "So nice to know," Jean-Claude said softly.

  I frowned at him. He smiled.

  "You will try, won't you, Ms. Blake?"

  "Maybe. I haven't decided yet."

  He shook his head. "We will do anything to make this oversight up to you, Ms. Blake. It is entirely my fault that I did not double-check the research department's findings. Is there anything that I can do personally to make it up to you?"

  "Just leave. I'll call your office tomorrow to discuss details. I may need some extra... paraphernalia to attempt the raising."

  "Anything, anything at all, Ms. Blake."

  "Fine; I'll call." I opened the door and stood by it. I thought it was enough of a hint. It was. Bayard went to the door and almost backed out, apologizing as he went.

  I closed the door and stood there for a minute.

  "That little man is up to something," Jean-Claude said.

  I turned and looked at him. He was still curled in the chair, looking scrumptious.

  "I didn't need vampiric powers to tell me that."

  "Neither," he said, "did I." He rose from the chair easily. If I'd curled up in a chair like that, I'd have been stiff.

  "I've got to tell Larry that he can stop packing. I don't understand why we're still hired, but we are."

  "Can anyone else raise the graveyard?"

  "Not without a human sacrifice, maybe not even then," I said.

  "They need you, ma petite. From the little man's anxiety, they must need the dead raised very badly."

  "Millions of dollars are at stake."

  "I do not think money is all that is at stake," he said.

  I shook my head. "Me either."

  He came to join me by the door. "What extra paraphernalia will you need to raise a three-hundred-year-old corpse, ma petite?"

  I shrugged. "A
bigger death. I'd originally thought to use a couple of goats." I opened the door.

  "What are you thinking about using now?"

  "An elephant, maybe," I said.

  We were out in the hall and he was staring at me.

  "I'm kidding. Honest. Besides, elephants are an endangered species. I was thinking maybe a cow."

  Jean-Claude stared down at me for a long space of moments, his face very serious. "Remember, ma petite, I can tell if you are lying."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You meant the elephant comment."

  I frowned up at him. What could I say? "Okay, but just for a minute. I wouldn't really do in an elephant. I'm telling the truth."

  "Yes, ma petite, I know."

  I hadn't really meant the crack about the elephant. Not really. It was just the biggest animal I could think of on short notice. And if I was going to attempt to raise several three-hundred-year-old corpses, I was going to need something big. I didn't think a cow would do. Hell, I didn't think a herd of cows would do it. I just hadn't thought of a good alternative yet.

  But no elephants, I promise. Besides, can you imagine trying to slit the throat of an elephant? The logistics of just getting one to hold still while you killed it were mind boggling. There's a reason why most sacrifices are our size or smaller. Makes it easier to hold them down.

  "We can't just leave Jeff with that monster," Larry said. He was standing in the middle of his forest green carpet. Jean-Claude was sitting in the corner of the green patterned couch. He was looking amused, like a cat that had found a very interesting mouse.

  "We aren't leaving him," I said. "We just can't go looking for him tonight."

  He whirled and pointed a finger at Jean-Claude. "Why, because he says so?"

  Jean-Claude's smile widened. Definitely amused.

  "Check the time, Larry. It'll be dawn soon. All the vampires will be asnooze in their coffins."

  Larry shook his head. The look on his face reminded me of me. Stubborn, not wanting to accept it. "We have to do something, Anita."

  "We can't talk to vampires during daylight hours, Larry. That's just the way it is."

  "And what happens to Jeff today, while we wait for the sun to go down?" His pale skin had gone almost white. His freckles looked like brown ink spots. His pale blue eyes glittered like angry glass. I'd never seen Larry so mad. Hell, I'd never seen him angry.