[Anita Blake 15] - The Harlequin

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  “You will not like my answer, ma petite.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “I cannot tell you. I am under the same vow as Malcolm, as all the vampires everywhere are.”

  “All vampires?”

  “Oui.”

  “What, or who, could force an oath like that from all of you?” I thought about it for a second, then answered my own question. “The vampire council, of course, your ruling body.”

  “Oui.”

  “So you aren’t going to tell me anything about what’s happening?”

  “I cannot, ma petite.”

  “Well, that is just frustrating as hell.”

  “You have no idea how frustrating, ma petite.”

  “I am your human servant; doesn’t that make me privy to all your secrets?”

  “Ah, but this is not my secret.”

  “What does that mean, not your secret?”

  “It means, ma petite, that I cannot discuss this with you unless I am given permission.”

  “How do you get permission?”

  “Pray that I am never able to answer that question, ma petite.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that, if I am able to speak about this openly, then we will have been contacted, and we do not wish to be contacted by this.”

  “This, a thing, not a person?”

  “I will say no more.”

  I knew I could push against his shields, and sometimes crack them. I thought about it, and it was as if he read my mind, and maybe he had. “Please, ma petite, do not push me on this.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Bad, but I think it is not our bad. I believe Malcolm will come to vampire justice for his crimes, whether we do it or not.”

  “So whatever, or whoever, this is, is hunting Malcolm?”

  “Perhaps. It is certainly he and his congregation that have the attention.”

  “Would whoever this is really frame Malcolm’s people and set up me and the other vamp executioners to do their dirty work?”

  “Perhaps. This legal status is very new. I know some of the older levels of vampire politics are puzzled by it. Perhaps some decided to use it to their own advantage.”

  “I had a case of that just two months ago, where one vamp framed another for a murder of a woman. I don’t want to kill someone who’s innocent.”

  “Is any vampire truly innocent?”

  “Don’t give me that fundamentalist shit, Jean-Claude.”

  “We are monsters, ma petite. You know that I believe that.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t want us to go back to the bad ol’ days and have it be open season on you guys.”

  “No, I do not want that.” There was something in the dry tone of his voice.

  “You’re shielding so hard, I can’t tell what you’re feeling. You only shield this hard when you’re scared, really scared.”

  “I am afraid that you will pick from my mind what I am forbidden to tell you. There is no, how do you say, fudging, on this…rule of law for us. If you learned this secret even in my mind, by accident, it might be grounds to slaughter both of us.”

  “What the hell is this secret?”

  “I have told you all I can.”

  “Do I need to sleep at the Circus of the Damned with you tonight? Do we need to circle the wagons?”

  He was quiet again, then finally said, “No, no.”

  “You don’t sound sure.”

  “I think it would be a very bad thing for you to sleep with me tonight, ma petite. Sex and dreams are the times when shields drop, and you might learn what we cannot afford for you to know.”

  “Are you saying that I’m not going to see you until this is resolved?”

  “No, no, ma petite, but not tonight. I will think about our situation and decide a course of action by tomorrow night.”

  “Course of action? What are the possibilities?”

  “I dare not say.”

  “Damn it, Jean-Claude, talk to me.” I was a little angry, but the tight feeling in my stomach was mostly fear.

  “If all goes well, you will never learn this secret.”

  “But it’s something that the council could have sent to kill Malcolm and destroy his church?”

  “I cannot answer your questions.”

  “Won’t, you mean.”

  “Non, ma petite, cannot. Has it not occurred to you that this could be a ploy of our enemies to give them an excuse under vampire law to destroy us?”

  I suddenly felt cold. “No, it hadn’t occurred to me.”

  “Think upon it, ma petite.”

  “You mean, they send something, so that if you tell me about it, then it, or they, can kill us. You think someone on the council is counting on the fact that we’re so tightly bound metaphysically that you can’t keep a secret this big from me. And if I find out, it won’t just be Malcolm that they’ll kill, but us, too.”

  “It is a thought, ma petite.”

  “A very twisty-turny, underhanded thought.”

  “Vampires are a very twisty-turny lot, ma petite. As for underhanded, they would think of it as clever.”

  “They can think what they like, but it’s a coward’s way.”

  “Oh, no, ma petite, we do not want anyone on the council to put their full attention in a challenge to me. That would also be a very bad thing.”

  “So, what? I meet Nathaniel for our date, and I pretend we haven’t had this talk?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “I can’t pretend that I don’t know something big and bad has come to town.”

  “If it is not hunting us, be grateful, and do not pick at it. I beg you, Anita, for the sake of all you love, do not seek an answer to this riddle.” He’d called me by my real name; it was a bad sign.

  “I can’t just pretend nothing is happening, Jean-Claude. Aren’t you even going to tell me to be more careful than normal?”

  “You are always careful, ma petite. I never worry that any bad thing will catch you unaware. It is one of your charms for me that you can take care of yourself.”

  “Even against something bad enough to scare you and Malcolm this badly.”

  “I trust you, ma petite. Do you trust me?”

  That was a loaded question, but finally I said, “Yeah.”

  “You do not sound certain.”

  “I trust you, but…I don’t like secrets, and I do not trust the council. And I have a warrant of execution on a vamp who is probably innocent. I’ve got a second warrant coming by tomorrow. They are both members of the Church of Eternal Life. I may not agree with Malcolm’s philosophy, but his members usually stay away from killing offenses. If I get a warrant of execution for a third member of Malcolm’s church this week, then it’s a frame. The law, as written, doesn’t give me much wiggle room, Jean-Claude.”

  “Actually, it gives you a great deal of wiggle room, ma petite.”

  “Yeah, yeah, but if I don’t use the warrant in a timely manner, I may have to answer to my superiors. I’m a federal marshal now, and they can call me on the carpet and make me explain my actions.”

  “Have they done that to any of the new marshals yet?”

  “Not yet. But if I’ve got a warrant, and other murders with the same MO keep happening, I’ll need an explanation as to why I haven’t killed Sally Hunter. The police, whatever the flavor, won’t accept ‘it’s a secret’ as an answer if people keep dying.”

  “How many humans are dead?”

  “One victim per warrant, but if I hesitate on the warrants, will whoever this is escalate the violence and force my hand?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Possibly,” I said.

  “Oui.”

  “You know, this could get ugly really fast.”

  “You have used your discretionary powers to get warrants vacated in the past. You saved our Avery.”

  “He is not ‘our’ Avery.”

  “He would be yours, if you would let him.” There was the
faintest of tones in his voice.

  “Are you jealous of Avery Seabrook? He’s like only two years dead.”

  “Not jealous in the way you mean.”

  “Then how?”

  “It was my blood he drank when he took oath to me, ma petite, but it is not me he watches. I should be his master, but I think if we both ordered him to do opposite things, I am not certain I would win the contest.”

  “Are you saying that my hold on him is stronger than yours?”

  “I am saying it is a possibility.”

  It was my turn for silence. I was a necromancer, not just an animator of zombies, but a real, true necromancer. I could control more than just zombies. We were still trying to figure out how much more.

  “Malcolm said he wasn’t sure which of us was victim and which victimizer anymore.”

  “He is foolish, but not a fool.”

  “I think I understood that,” I said.

  “Then I will be plain. Go on your date with Nathaniel, celebrate your almost-anniversary. This is not our fight, not yet, perhaps not ever. Do not make it our fight, for it could be the death of everyone we love.”

  “Oh, thanks, and with that cheery message, I’ll have no trouble going to the movies and enjoying myself.” Truthfully, I felt a little silly about the whole date tonight. Nathaniel wanted to celebrate our anniversary. The trouble was, we couldn’t agree on when our relationship changed from friends to more than friends. So, he’d chosen a date and called it our almost-anniversary. If I hadn’t been too embarrassed, I’d have picked the first time we had intercourse as the anniversary date. I just couldn’t figure out how to explain to friends why that date.

  Jean-Claude sighed, and it wasn’t sexual this time, just frustrated, I think. “I wanted this almost-anniversary to go well, tonight, ma petite. Not just for your sake, and Nathaniel’s, but if he can work you through your reluctance to be romantic, then the rest of us might have a chance to celebrate special days with you, as well.”

  “And what date would you pick as our anniversary?” I asked, in a voice thick with sarcasm.

  “The first night we made love, for that is the night that you truly let yourself love me.”

  “Damn it, you’ve thought about this.”

  “Why does sentiment make you so uncomfortable, ma petite?”

  I’d have loved to answer him, but I couldn’t. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure. “I don’t know, and I’m sorry that I’m such a pain in the ass. I’m sorry that I don’t let you and the rest of the guys do all the romantic gestures you want. I’m sorry that it’s so hard to be in love with me.”

  “Now, you are being too hard on yourself.”

  “I’m scared, I’m angry, I’m frustrated, and I don’t want to fight with you, because it’s not your fault. But now, thanks to what you just said, I don’t feel like I can cancel the date with Nathaniel tonight.” I thought about what I’d just said. “You bastard, you did this on purpose. You manipulated me into keeping the date with Nathaniel.”

  “Perhaps, but you are his first real girlfriend, and he is twenty. It is important to him, this night.”

  “He’s dating me, not you.”

  “Oui, but if all the men in your life are happy, you are happier, and it makes my life easier.”

  That made me laugh. “You bastard.”

  “And I did not lie, ma petite, I would love to celebrate once a year the first night you came to me. If your first attempt at a modest celebration fails, then the larger, more romantic gestures will never come to pass. I want them to come to pass.”

  I sighed and leaned my head against the phone receiver. I heard him saying, “Ma petite, ma petite, are you still there?”

  I put the receiver back to my mouth and said, “I’m here. Not happy, but I’m here. I’ll go, but there won’t be time to change now.”

  “I am sure that Nathaniel would much rather you go on this almost-anniversary than that you are dressed a certain way.”

  “Spoken from the man who most often dresses me in fetish wear.”

  “Not as often as I would like.” Before I could think of a comeback, he said, “Je t’aime,” and hung up. I love you, in French, and he got off the phone while the getting was good.

  3

  I WAS RUNNING too late to even go home first. A phone call and Nathaniel agreed to just meet me at the theatre. There was no reproach in his voice, no complaint. I think he was afraid to complain, afraid I’d use it as an excuse to cancel the almost-anniversary. He was probably right. I was dating, at last count, six men. When you’re dating that many people, anniversaries seem hypocritical. I mean, wasn’t an anniversary something you did for your special someone? I still hadn’t worked my way through the squirming discomfort of dating this many men. I still couldn’t get rid of the idea that with six men to choose from you couldn’t have a special sweetie. I was still struggling with the idea that they could all be special. When I was alone, not with any of them, not looking at them, or all covered in their metaphysical stuff, I could be all uncomfortable, and feel stupid. I felt stupid and grumpy right up to the moment that I saw Nathaniel standing just inside the doors, waiting for me.

  He was five foot six and a half now. He’d grown half an inch in the last month. At twenty, twenty-one in the spring, he was growing into the broad shoulders, filling out in the way that most men do at a slightly earlier age. I actually got carded more at clubs than he did now, which irritated me, and pleased him. But it wasn’t height that made me stop and stare.

  I stood in the midst of the Friday night crowd hurrying around me, and for just a few minutes I forgot that something bad enough to scare Jean-Claude and Malcolm had come to town. Yeah, Jean-Claude had told me we were safe, but still, it wasn’t like me to be careless in a crowd.

  Nathaniel wore a leather trench coat and a matching fedora. The hat and coat hid most of him, and still managed to emphasize the body underneath. It was like hiding and asking for attention at the same time. He’d added the hat to his winter gear because without it, he had gotten recognized a few times. Customers from Guilty Pleasures had spotted him as Brandon, his stage name. Once we covered the hair, it didn’t happen again.

  His hair was in some kind of tight braid, so that it looked like his auburn hair was cut nice and standard short. It was illusion. His hair fell to his ankles, totally impractical, but God, it was pretty.

  It wasn’t just the standard ooh, isn’t he pretty that made me stop. It was that suddenly in his new leather trench coat and hat, with his hair all covered, he looked grown-up. He was seven years younger than me, and I’d felt vaguely like a child molester when he first hit my radar. I’d fought long and hard to keep him out of the boyfriend box, but in the end, it hadn’t worked. Now I looked at him like a stranger might, and realized that the only one who still thought he might be a child was me. Standing there looking like a fetish version of Sam Spade, he didn’t look twenty. He looked very over twenty-one.

  Someone bumped me, and that made me jump. Shit, that was too careless. I started moving, dressed in my own black leather trench coat, but no hat. I didn’t do hats unless it was freaking freezing. Even with Christmas only weeks away, it wasn’t that cold. St. Louis in the wintertime: freezing one day, nearly fifty the next.

  My trench coat was unbuttoned from the waist up, only belted in place. It was colder that way, but I could still reach my gun. Going armed in winter was always full of fun choices like that.

  He spotted me before I’d gotten through the outer doors. He gave me that smile that made his whole face glow, so happy to see me. Once I would have bitched, but I was too busy fighting off my own version of the same smile. One of my other boyfriends said I hated being in love, and he was right. It always felt so stupid, like your insurance rates should go up, because you’re impaired. Romantically handicapped.

  The face under the hat was too pretty to be handsome. He was beautiful, not handsome. Apparently, no matter how tall he got, or how much he muscled up, that wasn’t going
to change. But it wasn’t a delicate face, the way Jean-Claude’s was, or Micah’s was; it was stronger boned than that, higher cheekboned. Something a touch more male in his face—I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something—and when he looked full at you, you never thought feminine, but always male. Had that changed in the last few months? Had I not noticed that, or had it always been like this and I just was so determined to marginalize him that I couldn’t let his face be more masculine than Jean-Claude’s or Micah’s? Did I still equate strength and being a grown-up to being male? Me, of all people? Surely not.

  His smile had faded around the edges. “What’s wrong?”

  I smiled and went to hug him. “Just wondering if I’m paying enough attention to you.”

  He hugged me back, but not like he meant it. He pulled me back so he could see my face. “Why would you say that?”

  I finally let myself look full into his eyes. Tonight I was so distracted by him that I’d avoided his eyes almost like he was a vampire with a gaze and I was some tourist human. His eyes were lavender—really, truly the color of lilacs. But it wasn’t just the color; they were large and perfect, and crowned his face with that final touch that just made your heart hurt. Too beautiful, simply too beautiful.

  He touched my face. “Anita, what’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.” And I didn’t. I was attracted to Nathaniel but this was excessive. I looked away so I wouldn’t be staring directly into his face. What the hell was wrong with me tonight?

  He tried to draw me into a kiss, and I pulled away. A kiss would undo me.

  His hands dropped away from me. His voice held the first hint of anger. It took a lot to make Nathaniel angry. “It’s just a movie, Anita. I’m not even asking for sex, just a movie.”

  I glanced up at him. “I’d rather go home and have sex.”

  “Which is why I asked for the movie,” he said.

  I frowned at him. “What?”

  “Are you embarrassed about being seen with me in public?”

  “No.” I let my face show how much it shocked me that he’d even have to ask.