[Anita Blake 15] - The Harlequin

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  28

  I WAS WRONG. I didn’t want to welcome Edward’s backup. One of them I wanted to send back to his mommy. The other I wanted to put a bullet in his brain, or heart. He was human, so either would do the job.

  At least I was dressed for the fight. I never fight as well naked. I would so not have been comfy naked in front of Edward, let alone in front of his “backup.” “What the fuck were you thinking?” I shouted at him. Yeah, it was one of those kinds of fights.

  Edward’s face was blank, empty, peaceful. It was one of the faces he killed with when he wasn’t enjoying the kill. “Olaf is good backup for this, Anita. He’s got the skills we need: a covert spook, any weapon you care to name, hand-to-hand, and better with explosives than I am.”

  “He’s also a fucking serial killer, whose victims of choice are petite brunette women.” I slapped my upper chest. “Sound like anyone you know?”

  He let out a breath; if it had been anyone else I would have said he sighed. “He’s a good match for this job, Anita, I swear that he is, but he wasn’t my choice, not exactly.”

  I stopped pacing and came to stand in front of him. I’d kicked everyone out except Micah when he handed me the overnight bag full of clothes and weapons. I loved a man who knew how to pack for me. When I’d stepped out into the hallway and seen Olaf and Peter, I’d gone back in the room, kicked Micah out, too, and invited Edward in.

  “What does that mean, he wasn’t your choice, exactly? You just said his skills match this job.”

  “They do, but do you really think I’d have brought him within a hundred miles of you, Anita? Olaf likes you, likes you in a way I’ve never seen him like a woman. He has whores and he has victims, but whatever he feels for you is different.”

  “Are you saying he loves me?”

  “Olaf doesn’t love anybody, but he feels something for you.”

  “He wants me to play serial killer with him, Edward.”

  Edward nodded. “The last time he saw you, you and he killed a vampire together. You decapitated it, and he cut out its heart.”

  “How do you know what we did? You were in the hospital trying not to die.”

  “I heard about it later from the local cops. They were creeped by the way you butchered the vampire. Said you were both real good at cutting up the body.”

  “I’m a legal vampire executioner, Edward. It’s what I do.”

  He nodded again. “And Olaf has been a special-ops assassin for most of his adult life.”

  “I don’t hold his day job against him, Edward; it’s his damn hobby that I don’t like.”

  “Hobby? You call the fact that he’s a serial killer his hobby?”

  I shrugged. “I think that’s how he sees it.”

  He smiled. “I think you may be right.”

  “Don’t you smile at me. Don’t you fucking smile at me. You hinted that you didn’t want to bring him on this job, so why did you?”

  His face sobered. “He wanted to come to St. Louis to see you”—he put air quotes around the see—“on his own. I told him if he came near you I’d kill him. He believed me, but he said that if I ever got called to back you up again, I had to include him. If I didn’t, he’d come on his own, and take his chances with me later.”

  “Later? Later, after what?”

  Edward gave me a look out of those blue eyes that were some of the coldest I ever looked into. “So he’s here to what, kill me?”

  “He doesn’t kill women, Anita. He butchers them.”

  I shuddered, because I’d seen Olaf at a serial-killer crime scene. Not his own work. He’d been helping Edward and me track down a different killer. But the victim had been just a pile of meat. It had been one of the worst things I’d ever seen done to a human being. Olaf had looked up from that pile of carnage, and the look in his face had been sexual. As if what lay on that table was the biggest turn-on he’d ever had. He’d looked at me, and he’d been thinking sex, yeah, but he’d been thinking sex not just without my clothes, but as if he wondered what I’d look like without my skin. Most humans didn’t scare me anymore, but Olaf scared me.

  Edward said, “Anita, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I’d rather see a ghost than him.”

  He smiled again. “Rather see a ghost; I keep forgetting that you’re not just a pretty face.”

  I frowned at him. “You’re smiling. This fight isn’t even close to over.”

  “I had to invite Olaf to play, Anita. This way I have his word that he’ll behave himself.”

  “Define behave himself.”

  “No serial killing on your turf, period.”

  “So I’m off the menu, too?”

  “He wants to help you slaughter your victim of choice, vampires. He’ll even help you kill men, he said.”

  I shivered, rubbing my arms, squeezing tight so the gun in its shoulder holster dug into my breast a little. I liked the discomfort. I wasn’t helpless. It was just that Olaf was six feet plus of trained muscle. I was stronger and faster than a normal human thanks to Jean-Claude’s vampire marks, but I still knew enough about physical potential to know that Olaf was a very dangerous man. He was crazy and trained to kill; that seemed an unfair advantage to me.

  “You think he would have come on his own by now, if you hadn’t given him your word?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He wasn’t smiling when he said that last. He was as serious as I’d ever seen him. “I would never have invited him to that last case in New Mexico if I’d thought I would be needing your help. Please, believe that the last thing I wanted was for him to meet you. I knew it would be a disaster. I just didn’t expect you to…charm him. I didn’t know there was a woman on the planet that could have made him feel anything close to…”—he searched for a word—“he wants to help you hunt and slaughter these vampires.”

  “I don’t want him here, Edward.”

  “I know, but this was the best compromise I could make with him, Anita. Actually I hoped he’d be out of the country, so far away that the fireworks would be over before he could get back to the United States. He took a job with a government agency to help train up some of their new antiterrorist infiltration groups. He took a job that he’s qualified for—he speaks more Middle Eastern languages than I do—but it wasn’t a job that let him exercise his urges.”

  “You mean he’s not been allowed to kill anyone.”

  He nodded.

  “Why would he take a job that didn’t let him slaughter people?”

  “Because he knew if he went out of the country, he’d never make it back in time to be in St. Louis when you needed me.”

  I stared at Edward. “Are you saying that Olaf took a job that he didn’t want so he’d be closer to me?”

  “That is exactly what I’m saying. This last year and some change is probably the longest he’s ever gone without killing someone. If you’d asked me, I’d have said he couldn’t go this long without killing someone.”

  “How do you know he didn’t?”

  “He’s got a deal with our government. He doesn’t play serial killer on American soil. They look the other way, as long as he abides by that.”

  I hugged myself tight again. “I didn’t ask Olaf to be a good boy, Edward.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “Why does the fact that he’s behaved himself on the off chance that he can come play with me scare me?”

  “Because you’re smart.”

  “Explain to me why it makes my skin run cold that he’s gone to this much effort for me?”

  “He is crazy, Anita. Which means that you never know what will trigger him with a woman. He likes you as much as I’ve ever seen him like a woman. But he has high standards for women.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that when he saw you almost two years ago you weren’t sleeping around. Now you are. I’m a little worried that that will change his opinion of you.”

  “He kills whores,” I said, my voice flat.
r />   “I did not call you a whore.”

  “You said I sleep around.”

  “You have half a dozen regular lovers, and you just had sex with a new one. Give me another way to say it.”

  I thought about it, then shook my head and almost smiled. “A full dance card. Oh, hell, Edward. Fine, I’m sleeping with a lot of men.” Which brought me to another thought. “God, Peter was in the hallway while Donovan and I were in here…” I felt myself blush and couldn’t stop it.

  “I figured you for a screamer.”

  I gave him a very unfriendly look.

  “Sorry, but Peter was embarrassed. What else do you want me to say?”

  “Say why you brought him. Say why the hell would you involve him in this dangerous mess?”

  “Short version, because we’ve only got a few hours to find these bastards.”

  “I agree we’ve got a ticking clock, but you have to explain Peter being here. I can’t just let him go hunting vampires with us, Edward. He’s sixteen years old, for God’s sake.”

  “It was the phone call when you talked to him. He knew you were in trouble. Short version, he wanted to return the favor. You rescued him, he wanted to help rescue you.”

  “I don’t need rescuing. I need people to help me kill other people. I don’t want Peter to get better at killing people. I watched him kill the woman who raped him. I watched him blow her face to red sauce.” I shook my head and started pacing the room again. “How could you do this to him, Edward?”

  “If I had left him home he just would have followed me. He knew where I was going. This way I can keep an eye on him.”

  “No, you can’t. We can’t do this job and babysit at the same time. They almost killed all three of us: Richard, Jean-Claude, and me. We’re kind of hard to kill, Edward. These guys are good, dangerous good. Do you really want Peter’s first real job to be against something this scary?”

  “No,” Edward said, “but he was coming. I had the choice of bringing him with me, or letting him find his own way.”

  “He’s sixteen, Edward. You’re his father. You say no, and you make it stick.”

  “I’m not married to his mother yet, Anita. I’m not his official step-anything.”

  “He sees you as his dad.”

  “Not when he doesn’t want to.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that I don’t have the authority that a real dad would have over him sometimes. It means that I’ll always wonder if he’d been mine from the beginning if he’d be different, or if we’d have ended up here anyway.”

  “He’s out there in the hallway, armed. He’s carrying more than one gun, and at least one knife. He’s carrying them like he’s done it before. What the hell have you been teaching him, Edward?”

  “What any father teaches his son.”

  “Which is?”

  “What he knows.”

  I just stared at him, knowing my face held a soft, growing horror. “Edward, you can’t make him into a little you.”

  “He was scared all the time, Anita, after the attack. His therapist thought that martial arts training, training him to take care of himself, would help. It did. He stopped having the nightmares after a while.”

  “Training him to take care of himself is different from what’s standing out in that hallway. There’s a loss of innocence in his eyes. A…oh, hell, I don’t know what is missing, or what’s there that shouldn’t be, but I know it when I see it.”

  “It’s the look that you have in your eyes, Anita. It’s the look that I have in mine.”

  “He is not like us,” I said.

  “He’s killed twice.”

  “He killed the wereanimal that killed his father and would have slaughtered them all. He killed the woman who raped him.”

  “It’s pretty to think that it matters why you take a life. I guess it does, but what the taking of a life does to you inside doesn’t care why you did it. You either can kill and sleep nights, or you can’t. Peter isn’t bothered by the killing, Anita. He’s bothered by what the bitch did to him. He’s bothered by the fact that he couldn’t protect his sister.”

  “No one sexually abused Becca,” I said.

  “No, thank God, but her hand is still stiff sometimes. She has to do hand-strengthening exercises. The hand works, but it’s not a hundred percent.”

  “And the man who tortured her is dead,” I said.

  Edward gave me those cold blue eyes. “You killed him for me.”

  “You were a little busy,” I said.

  “Yeah, dying.”

  “You didn’t die,” I said.

  “I came as close as I’ve ever come. But I knew you’d save the kids. I knew that you would see it right.”

  “Edward, don’t do this to me.”

  “Don’t do what?” he asked.

  “Don’t make me part of taking Peter’s childhood away from him.”

  “He’s not a child, Anita.”

  “He’s not a grown-up either,” I said.

  “And how do you grow up if no one shows you how?”

  “Edward, we’re going up against some of the most dangerous vampires that you and I have ever faced. Peter can’t be that good yet. He can’t be up to that skill level, no matter how much you’ve taught him. If you want to get him killed, fine, he’s your kid, but I will not be a part of it. I will not help you get him killed in some macho bullshit initiation thing. I won’t do it. Do you understand me? I won’t allow it. Maybe you can’t send him home, but I can.”

  “How?” he asked.

  “What do you mean, how? I tell him to go the fuck home before he gets himself killed.”

  “He won’t go.”

  “I can demonstrate that he’s out of his depth, Edward.”

  “Don’t humiliate him, Anita, please.”

  It was the please that got me. “You’d rather he die than get humiliated?”

  Edward swallowed hard enough that I heard it. He turned away so I couldn’t see his face. Not a good sign. “When I was sixteen, I’d rather have died than have a woman I loved humiliate me. He’s sixteen and male, don’t do that to him.”

  “Wait, what did you say?”

  “I said, he’s sixteen and male, don’t humiliate him.”

  I went to him, walked around so that he had to meet my eyes. “Not that part.”

  Edward looked at me, and there was real anguish in his eyes. “Jesus, Edward, what is it?”

  “His therapist says that an event like what happened to him just as his sexuality was awakening can be a defining event.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means that his view of sex and violence is all mixed up together.”

  “Okay, what does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means he’s had two girlfriends in the last year. The first one was perfect. She was quiet, respectful, pretty. They were sweet together.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Her parents called one night and asked what kind of monster our son was, that he’d hurt their daughter.”

  “Hurt her how?”

  “The usual. She was a virgin and they didn’t do enough foreplay.”

  “It happens,” I said.

  “But the girl claimed that when she told him it hurt, he didn’t stop.”

  “Sounds like buyer’s remorse to me, Edward.”

  “I thought so, too, until the second girl. She was rough trade, Anita. As bad as the first girl had been good. She slept around, and everyone knew it. She broke up with Peter, said he was a freak. This girl was a freak, Anita. She was all leather and spikes and piercings, and it wasn’t just for show. She said he hurt her.”

  “What did Peter say?”

  “He said he didn’t do anything she didn’t ask him to do.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “He won’t tell you?” I asked.

  “No,” Edward said.

  “Why not?” />
  “I think it’s rough sex. I think he’s embarrassed to talk about it, or what they did was bad enough that he thinks I will think he’s a freak, too. He doesn’t want me to think that.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Sometimes silence is the best you can do. Then I thought of something worth saying. “Liking rough sex doesn’t make you a freak.”

  He looked at me.

  “It doesn’t,” I said, and I felt myself begin to blush.

  “It’s not my thing, Anita. It just doesn’t move me.”

  “Everyone has things that do it for them, Edward.”

  “Rough does it for you?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “When a kid is abused, they can react a lot of different ways; two of the choices are that they identify with the abuser and become abusers, or they embrace the role of victim. He didn’t embrace the role of victim, Anita.”

  “What are you saying, Edward?”

  “I don’t know yet. But his therapist says that he’s also identified with his savior, you. He has another option besides just victim or abuser; he has you.”

  “What does that mean, he has me?”

  “You saved him, Anita. You took off the ropes, the blindfold. He’d just had the first sex of his life, and he looks up and sees you.”

  “He was raped,” I said.

  “It’s still sex. Everyone likes to pretend that it’s not, but it is. It may be about dominance, and pain, but it’s still sex. I’d take it away, make it so it never happened, but I can’t. Donna can’t. His therapist can’t. Peter can’t.”

  My eyes were burning. Damn it, I would not cry. But I remembered a fourteen-year-old boy who I’d had to watch be abused on camera. They’d done it so I’d do what they wanted. Done it to prove that if I failed them, I wouldn’t be the one who suffered. I had failed Peter. I had saved him, but not in time. I had got him out, but not before.