Curcus of the Damned

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  He stood in one graceful movement, leaving Marguerite kneeling beside the empty chair. She looked displeased. I smiled at her, and she glared at me. Baiting Marguerite was childish, but it made me feel better. Everyone needs a hobby.

  Jean-Claude swept the curtains aside to show darkness. I realized then that there was discreet electric light in the room, indirect lighting set in the walls themselves. There was nothing but the flicker of torches beyond the curtains. It was like that one piece of cloth held back the modern world with all its comforts. Beyond lay stone and fire and secrets best whispered in the dark.

  "Anita?" Larry called after me. He looked uncertain, maybe even scared. But I was taking the most dangerous thing in the room with me. He'd be safe with Irving and Richard. I didn't think Marguerite was a danger without Yasmeen to hold her leash.

  "Stay here, Larry, please. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  "Be careful," he said.

  I smiled. "Always."

  He grinned. "Yeah, sure."

  Jean-Claude motioned me through and I went, following the sweep of his pale hand. The curtain fell behind us, cutting off the light. Darkness closed around us like a fist. Torches sparked against the far wall but couldn't touch the swelling dark.

  Jean-Claude led the way into the dark. "We wouldn't want your coworker to overhear us." His voice whispered in the dark, growing like a wind to beat against the curtains.

  My heart hammered against my rib cage. How the hell did he do that? "Save the dramatics for someone you can impress."

  "Brave words, ma petite, but I taste your heartbeat in my mouth." The last word breathed over my skin as if his lips had passed just over the nape of my neck. Goosebumps marched down my arms.

  "If you want to play games until after dawn, that's fine with me, but Irving told me that you had information on the master vampire that attacked me. Do you, or was it a lie?"

  "I have never lied to you, ma petite."

  "Oh, come on."

  "Partial truths are not the same thing as lies."

  "I guess that depends on where you're sitting," I said.

  He acknowledged that with a nod. "Shall we sit against the far wall, out of hearing range?"

  "Sure."

  He knelt in the thin circle of a torch's light. The light was for my benefit and I appreciated it. But no sense telling him that.

  I sat across from him, back to the wall. "So, what do you know about Alejandro?"

  He was staring at me, a peculiar look on his face.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Tell me everything that happened last night, ma petite, everything about Alejandro."

  It was too much like an order for my tastes, but there was something in his eyes, his face; uneasiness, almost fear. Which was silly. What did JeanClaude have to fear from Alejandro? What indeed? I told him everything I remembered.

  His face went carefully blank, beautiful and unreal like a painting. The colors were still there, but the life, the movement, had fled. He put one finger between his lips and slowly slid it out of sight. The finger came glistening back to the light. He extended that wet finger towards me. I scooted away from him.

  "What are you trying to do?"

  "Wash the blood off of your cheek. Nothing more."

  "I don't think so."

  He sighed, the barest of sounds, but it slithered over my skin like air. "You make everything so difficult."

  "Glad you noticed."

  "I need to touch you, ma petite. I believe Alejandro has done something to you."

  "What?"

  He shook his head. "Something impossible."

  "No riddles, Jean-Claude."

  "I believe he has marked you."

  I stared at him. "What do you mean?"

  "Marked you, Anita Blake, marked you with the first mark, just as I have."

  I shook my head. "That's not possible. Two vampires can't have the same human servant."

  "Exactly," he said. He moved towards me. "Let me test the theory, ma petite, please."

  "What does testing the theory mean?"

  He said something soft and harsh in French. I'd never heard him curse before. "It is after dawn and I am tired. Your questions will make something simple last all bloody day." There was real anger in his voice, but under that was tiredness and that thread of fear. The fear scared me. He was supposed to be some untouchable monster. Monsters weren't afraid of other Monsters.

  I sighed. Was it better to just get it over with, like a shot? Maybe. "All right, in the interest of time. But give me some idea of what to expect. You know I don't like surprises."

  "I must touch you to search first for my marks, then for his. You should not have fallen so easily into his eyes. That should not have happened."

  "Get it over with," I said.

  "Is my touch so repulsive that you must prepare yourself as for pain?"

  Since that was almost exactly what I was doing, I wasn't sure what to say. "Just do it, Jean-Claude, before I change my mind."

  He slid his finger between his lips again.

  "Do you have to do it that way?"

  "Ma petite, please."

  I squirmed against the cool stone wall. "All right, no more interruptions."

  "Good." He knelt in front of me. His fingertip traced my right cheek, leaving a line of wetness down my skin. The dried blood was gritty under his touch. He leaned into me, as if he was going to kiss me. I put my hands on his chest to keep him from touching me. His skin was hard and smooth under the gauze of his shirt.

  I jerked away and hit my head against the wall. "Dammit."

  He smiled. His eyes glinted blue in the torchlight. "Trust me." He moved in, lips hovering over my mouth. "I won't hurt you." The words whispered into my mouth, a soft push of air.

  "Yeah, right," I said, but the words came out soft and uncertain.

  His lips brushed mine, then pressed gently against my mouth. The kiss moved from my lips to my cheek. His lips were soft as silk, gentle as marigold petals, hot as the noonday sun. They worked down my skin until his mouth hovered over the pulse in my neck.

  "Jean-Claude?"

  "Alejandro was alive when the Aztec empire was just a dream." He whispered it against my skin. "He was there to greet the Spaniards and watch the Aztecs fall. He has survived when others have died or gone mad." His tongue flicked out, hot and wet.

  "Stop it." I pushed against him. His heart beat against my hands. I pushed my hands upward to his throat. The big pulse in his throat fluttered against my skin. I placed a thumb over the smoothness of one of his eyelids. "Move it or lose it," I said. My voice was breathy with panic, and something worse . . . desire.

  The feel of his body against me, under my hands, his lips touching me—some hidden part of me wanted it. Wanted him. So I lusted after the Master; so what? Nothing new. His eyeball trembled under my thumb, and I wondered if I could do it. Could I blank out one of those midnight-blue orbs? Could I blind him?

  His lips moved against my skin. Teeth brushed my skin, the hard brush of fangs rubbed against my throat. And the answer was, suddenly, yes. I tensed to press inward, and he was gone like a dream, or a nightmare.

  He stood in front of me, looking down, his eyes all dark, no white showing. His lips had drawn back from his teeth to expose glistening fangs. His skin was marble-white and seemed to glow from inside, and still he was beautiful.

  "Alejandro has given you the first mark, ma petite. We share you. I do not know how, but we do. Two more marks and you are mine. Three more and you are his. Would it not be better to be mine?"

  He knelt in front of me again, but was careful not to touch me. "You desire me as a woman desires a man. Is that not better than some stranger taking you by force?"

  "You didn't ask my permission for the first two marks. They weren't by choice."

  "I am asking permission now. Let me share with you the third mark."

  "No."

  "You would rather serve Alejandro?"

  "I'm not going to serve anyo
ne," I said.

  "This is a war, Anita. You cannot be neutral."

  "Why not?"

  He stood up and paced a tight circle. "Don't you understand? The killings are a challenge to my authority, and his marking you is another challenge. He will take you from me if he can."

  "I don't belong to you, or to him."

  "What I have tried to get you to believe, to accept, he will shove down your throat."

  "So I'm in the middle of an undead turf war because of your marks."

  He blinked, opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, "Yes."

  I stood up. "Thanks a lot." I walked past him. "If you have any more info on Alejandro, send me a letter."

  "This will not go away just because you wish it to."

  I stopped in front of the curtain. "Hell, I knew that. I've wished hard enough for you to leave me alone."

  "You would miss me if I were not here."

  "Don't flatter yourself."

  "And do not lie to yourself, ma petite. I would give you a partnership. He will give you slavery."

  "If you really believed this partnership crap, you wouldn't have forced the first two marks on me. You would have asked. For all I know, the third mark can't be given without my cooperation." I stared at him. "That's it, isn't it? You need my help or something for the third mark. It's different from the first two. You son of a bitch."

  "The third mark without your . . . help would be like rape to making love. You would hate me for all eternity if I took you by force."

  I turned my back on him and grabbed the curtain. "You got that right."

  "Alejandro will not care if you hate him. He wants only to hurt me. He will not ask your permission. He will simply take you."

  "I can take care of myself."

  "Like you took care last night?"

  Alejandro had rolled me under and over and I hadn't even known it. What protection did I have against something like that? I shook my head and jerked back the curtain. The light was so bright, I was blind. I stood in the glare waiting for my eyes to adjust. The cool darkness blew against my back. The light was hot and intrusive after the darkness, but anything was better than whispers in the night. Blinded by the light or blinded by darkness; I'd take light every time.

  36

  Larry was lying on the floor, head cradled in Yasmeen's lap. She held his wrists. Marguerite had pinned his body under her own. She was licking the blood off his face with long, lingering strokes of her tongue. Richard lay in a crumpled heap, blood running down his face. There was something on the floor. It writhed and moved. Grey fur flowed over it like water. A hand reached skyward, then shrank like a dying flower, bones glistening, shoving upward through the flesh. The fingers shrank, flesh rolling over the nubs of raw flesh. All that raw meat and no blood. The bones slid in and out with wet, sucking noises. Drops of clear fluid spattered the black rug. But no blood.

  I drew the Browning and moved so I could point it somewhere between Yasmeen and the thing on the floor. I had my back to the curtain but moved away from it. Too easy for something to reach through.

  "Let him go, now."

  "We haven't hurt him," Yasmeen said.

  Marguerite leaned into Larry's body; one hand cupped his groin, massaging.

  "Anita!" His eyes were wide, skin pale; freckles stood out like ink spots.

  I fired a shot inches from Yasmeen's head. The sound was sharp and echoed. Yasmeen snarled at me. "I can rip his throat out before you squeeze that trigger again."

  I aimed for Marguerite's head, right over one blue eye. "You kill him, I kill Marguerite. You willing to make the trade?"

  "Yasmeen, what are you doing?" Jean-Claude came in at my back. My eyes flicked to him, then back to Marguerite. Jean-Claude wasn't the danger, not now.

  The thing on the floor rose on four shaky legs and shook itself like a dog after a bath. It was a huge wolf. Thick grey-brown fur covered the animal, fluffy and dry as if the wolf had been freshly washed and blow dried. Liquid formed a thick puddle on the carpet. Bits of clothing were scattered around. The wolf had emerged from the mess newly formed, reborn.

  A pair of round wire-framed glasses sat on the glass and black coffee table, neatly folded.

  "Irving?"

  The wolf gave a small half-growl, half-bark. Was that a yes?

  I had always known that Irving was a werewolf, but seeing it was something else entirely. Until just that moment I hadn't really believed, not really. Staring into the wolf's pale brown eyes, I believed.

  Marguerite lay on the ground behind Larry now. Her arms wrapped around his chest, legs wrapping his waist. Most of her was hidden behind him, shielded.

  I had spent too much time gazing at Irving. I couldn't shoot Marguerite without risking Larry. Yasmeen was kneeling beside them, one hand gripping a handful of Larry's hair. "I will snap his neck."

  "You will not harm him, Yasmeen," Jean-Claude said. He stood beside the coffee table. The wolf moved up beside him, growling softly. His fingers brushed the top of the wolf's head.

  "Call off your dogs, Jean-Claude, or this one dies." She stretched Larry's throat into one straining pale line to emphasize her point. The BandAid that had been hiding his vampire bite had been removed. Marguerite's tongue flicked out, touching the straining flesh.

  I was betting that I could shoot Marguerite in the forehead while she licked Larry's neck, but Yasmeen could, and might, break his neck. I couldn't take the chance.

  "Do something, Jean-Claude," I said. "You're the Master of the City. She's supposed to take your orders."

  "Yes, Jean-Claude, order me."

  "What's going on here, Jean-Claude?" I asked.

  "She is testing me."

  "Why?"

  "Yasmeen wants to be Master of the City. But she isn't strong enough."

  "I was strong enough to keep you and your servant from hearing this one's screams. Richard called your name, and you heard nothing because I kept you from it."

  Richard stood just behind Jean-Claude. Blood was smeared from the corner of his mouth. There was a small cut on his right cheek that trickled blood down his face. "I tried to stop her."

  "You did not try hard enough," Jean-Claude said.

  "Argue amongst yourselves later," I said. "Right now, we have a problem."

  Yasmeen laughed. The sound wriggled down my spine like someone had spilled a can of worms. I shuddered, and decided then and there that I'd shoot Yasmeen first. We'd find out if a master vampire was really faster than a speeding bullet.

  She released Larry with a laugh and stood. Marguerite still clung to him. He got to his hands and knees with the woman riding him like a horse, arms and legs still clamped around him. She was laughing, kissing his neck.

  I kicked her in the face as hard as I could. She slid off Larry and lay dazed on the floor. Yasmeen started forward and I fired at heir chest. JeanClaude hit my arm, and the shot went wide.

  "I need her alive, Anita."

  I jerked away from him. "She's crazy."

  "But he needs my assistance to combat the other masters," Yasmeen said.

  "She'll betray you if she can," I said.

  "But I still need her."

  "If you can't control Yasmeen, then how in the hell are you going to fight Alejandro?"

  "I don't know," he said. "Is that what you wanted to hear? I do not know."

  Larry was still huddled by our feet.

  "Can you get up?"

  He looked up at me, eyes shiny with unshed tears. He used one of the chairs to brace himself and almost fell. I grabbed his arm, gun still in my right hand. "Come on, Larry, we're getting out of here."

  "Sounds great to me." His voice was incredibly breathless, straining not to cry.

  We worked our way towards the door, me helping Larry walk, gun still out pointed vaguely at everything in the room.

  "Go with them, Richard. See them safely to their car. And do not fail me again like you did today."

  Richard ignored the threat and walked around us to
hold the door open. We walked through without turning our backs on the vampires or the werewolf. When the door closed, I let out a breath I hadn't even known I was holding.

  "I can walk now," Larry said.

  I let go of his arm. He put a hand against the wall but otherwise seemed okay. The first slow tear trailed down his cheek. "Get me out of here."

  I put my gun up. It wouldn't help now. Richard and I both pretended not to notice Larry's tears. They were very quiet. If you hadn't been looking directly at him, you wouldn't have known he was crying.

  I tried to think of something to say, anything. But what could I say? He had seen the monsters, and they had scared the shit out of him. They scared the shit out of me. They scared the shit out of everybody. Now Larry knew that. Maybe it was worth the pain. Maybe not.

  37

  Early-morning light lay heavy and golden on the street outside. The air was cool and misty. You couldn't see the river from here, but you could feel it; that sense of water on the air that made every breath fresher, cleaner.

  Larry got out his car keys.

  "You okay to drive?" I asked.

  He nodded. The tears had dried in thin tracks down his face. He hadn't bothered to wipe them away. He wasn't crying anymore. He was as grimfaced as you could be and still look like an overgrown Howdy Doody. He opened his door and got in, sliding across to unlock the passenger side.

  Richard stood there. The cool wind blew his hair across his face. He ran fingers through it to keep it from his face. The gesture was achingly familiar. Phillip had always been doing that. Richard smiled at me, and it wasn't Phillip's smile. It was bright and open, and there was nothing hidden in his brown eyes.

  Blood had started to dry at the corner of his mouth, and on his cheek.

  "Get out while you still can, Richard."

  "Out from what?"

  "There's going to be an undead war. You don't want to be caught in the middle."

  "I don't think Jean-Claude would let me walk away," he said. He wasn't smiling when he said it. I couldn't decide whether he was handsomer smiling or solemn.

  "Humans don't do too well in the middle of the monsters, Richard. Get out if you can."