[Anita Blake 15] - The Harlequin

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  “Get out, Dolph, just go.”

  “But he gets to stay,” and he pointed at Edward.

  “He hasn’t insulted me. He’s been nothing but professional.”

  “I guess I deserve that.” He seemed about to say something else. He held his hand out. Edward hesitated, then gave Dolph back his gun. Dolph just left, closing the door softly behind him.

  Edward holstered his gun and we waited a few seconds, then looked at each other. “You are not going to be able to avoid answering him for very long, Anita.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s not just you that’s going to be in trouble.”

  I nodded. “Richard.”

  “He was hinting.”

  “If he knew, he’d do more than hint.”

  “Lieutenant Storr isn’t stupid.”

  “I never thought he was.”

  “His hatred makes him stupid in some ways, but it also makes him very determined. If that determination gets turned on you and your friends, well…”

  “I know, Edward, I know.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “There isn’t a law on the books that says I can’t date the monsters. Legally it would be like telling a federal agent he can’t date someone who’s not white; it would be a public relations nightmare.”

  “But the human servant bit, that’s an area they haven’t covered in the federal regulations.”

  “You’ve checked?” I asked.

  “Before I took the badge, yeah, I read up. Nothing says you can’t be Jean-Claude’s human servant and a federal marshal.”

  “Because the laws haven’t caught up to themselves.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Anita; it still means even if Dolph finds out, you’re covered.”

  “I’m covered legally, but there are other ways to be gotten rid of, if cops want you gone.”

  “Like not calling you in on cases.”

  “Dolph’s already doing that.”

  “Frankly, I think they see you sleeping with the enemy as being just as bad as any metaphysical stuff, or worse.”

  I thought about it. “They don’t really understand the metaphysics, but they understand fucking.”

  “Your lieutenant seems almost as worried that you’re sleeping around as who you’re sleeping around with.”

  “A lot of police are prudes at heart.”

  “I think Lieutenant Storr would almost be as disappointed with you if you were just sleeping around with humans.”

  “I think he sees himself as sort of a surrogate father figure.”

  “How do you see him?”

  “My boss, sort of. Once I thought he was my friend.”

  “You’re sitting up—does it hurt?”

  I thought about it, letting myself feel my body, sort of searching it for pain. I took a deep breath, all the way down to my stomach. “It’s tight, but not painful. It has that tight feeling that it gets if you don’t stretch the scar tissue out. You know?”

  “I know.”

  “You don’t have any scars as bad as mine, do you?”

  “Only Donna knows.” He smiled.

  “How is Peter, really?”

  “Brave.”

  “I meant, oh, hell, Edward, is he going to get the injection or not?”

  “Still debating.”

  “You have to tell Donna.”

  “She’d take the injection.”

  “Legally, it’s her decision.”

  “One of the reasons we kept him Peter Black was so he could make the decision. I’ve been talking to your furry friends. Tiger lycanthropy is one of the harder-to-catch ones. It’s also one of the few that runs in families and can be inherited as well as caught.”

  “That’s actually news to me,” I said.

  “Apparently the tigers keep it a close family secret. I’ve been talking to the only other weretiger in town.”

  “Christine,” I said.

  He nodded. “Did you know she ran to a town with no tigers to escape being forced to marry into a clan of weretigers?”

  “I didn’t know—wait, I remember Claudia saying that Soledad had come to St. Louis to probably escape an arranged marriage. Something about the tigers liking to keep it in the family.”

  “That was her cover story.”

  “How good was her cover?”

  “It was good. I’ve seen her documents; they look real. They were excellent forgeries, and I know what I’m talking about.”

  “I’ll just bet you do,” I said.

  He gave me a look. The real Edward began to peek out, Ted Forrester melting from the eyes outward. It was always his eyes that reverted back to real first. Sort of the way most lycanthropes shifted, interestingly enough.

  “Thanks for sending Graham when you did. The shot they had was tiger. It’s their standard because it’s so rare. They’re sending for a different batch, not tiger this time.”

  “Will he take the shot?”

  “If you were him, what would you do?”

  I thought about it. “I’m not the one to ask, Edward. I’ve been cut up a lot, and I’ve taken my chances. So far, so good.”

  “But the shot didn’t exist last time. Would you have taken it?”

  “I won’t make this decision for you, or for Peter. He’s not my kid.”

  “The other shapeshifters make weretigers sound like the last thing you’d want to be.”

  “How so?”

  “Like I said, they try to force you to marry into the clan to keep everyone related. They’d find Peter and they’d offer him girls, try to lure him in. If he wouldn’t be lured, they’ve been known to abduct.”

  “Illegal,” I said.

  “Most of them homeschool their kids.”

  “Very isolationist,” I said.

  “Peter doesn’t like the sound of being a weretiger. He’s not very big on other people telling him what to do.”

  “He’s sixteen,” I said. “No sixteen-year-old likes to be bossed around.”

  “I don’t think he’s going to grow out of it.”

  “He takes orders from you, and from Claudia.”

  “He takes them from people he respects, but you have to earn it. I wouldn’t let some clan of weretigers take him, Anita.”

  “They can’t force you, or Peter. Christine has lived in St. Louis for years and never been bothered that I’m aware of.”

  “Apparently, there’re only four clans of tigers in the United States. They all keep to themselves. Their culture is also divided about pure-bloods, inherited lycanthropy, and attacks. Being given tiger lycanthropy is seen as a reward for a job well done. They think it’s a sin to give it to someone you don’t value.”

  “Sounds sort of vampirelike,” I said. “They feel the same way about human servants and animals to call. But I’ve seen my share of both that were forced, and didn’t go willingly.”

  “Were you willing?” he asked, and it was all Edward in those eyes now.

  I sighed. “If I say no, are you going to do something stupid?”

  “No, you love him. I see it. I don’t understand it, but I see it.”

  “I don’t get you and Donna either.”

  “I know.”

  “I wasn’t willing at first, but somehow it just happened. Where we are now wasn’t forced on me.”

  “Rumor has it that you’re the power behind the throne, the one pulling his strings.”

  “Don’t believe every rumor you hear.”

  “If I believed them all, I’d be too afraid to be alone with you.”

  I stared at him, trying to read that face, that unreadable face. “Do I want to know what people are saying about me behind my back?”

  “No,” he said.

  I nodded. “Fine, get a doctor, see if I can get up and mobile.”

  “It’s been ten hours, Anita, you can’t be healed.”

  “Let’s find out,” I said.

  “If you get out of bed this quick, some of those rumors are going to get confirmed.
”

  “Are the police talking to you about me?”

  “Not everyone knows that we’re friends.”

  “Okay, what rumors?”

  “That you’re a shapeshifter.”

  “Some of my best friends are shapeshifters,” I said.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, get a doctor. I’m not going to stay in bed just to keep people from thinking what they already think. Truthfully, I’ve had actual shapeshifters think I’m one of them just from the way my energy feels.”

  “Would it hurt you to stay in bed?”

  “Why do you care if people think I’m a shapeshifter?”

  “I care because if Peter finds out you’re already out of bed he’ll feel weak. He’ll want to be all macho, too.”

  “If the doctor tells me I’m too sick to move, I’ll stay in bed. I’m not being macho.”

  “No, but Peter has similar injuries to yours, and he knows how he feels.”

  “His wounds aren’t healing faster than normal?” I asked.

  “They don’t seem to be, why?”

  “It’s not a certainty, but often if a victim is going to get lycanthropy, wounds heal more than human-fast.”

  “Always?” he asked.

  “No, but sometimes. Critical wounds that would cause death will heal faster. Smaller wounds sometimes heal faster, sometimes not.”

  “What do I tell Peter about the injection?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t make that call. I won’t make that call.” I looked at him, studied a face that didn’t have the cheerfulness of Ted, or the coldness of Edward. There was real anguish there, guilt maybe. Since I thought he’d been foolish to bring Peter into this mess, I couldn’t help him. Peter hadn’t been ready for this much action. The shame of it was that in a few years he might have been.

  “You’re thinking I was wrong to bring him, that he wasn’t ready.”

  “Hey, I told you that when I saw him. You don’t have to read my mind, Edward. I’ll usually tell you what I think.”

  “Okay, what do you think?”

  “Well, shit,” I said, and sighed. “Fine, fine. Of course you shouldn’t have brought him. I was impressed with him in the middle of the fight. He held his ground. He remembered his training. In a few years, if he wants to follow in his father’s footsteps, then fine. But he needs a few more years of practice and training. He needs a little seasoning before you throw him to the wolves again.”

  Edward nodded. “I was weak, I’ve never been weak before, Anita. Donna, Becca, and Peter, they make me weak. They make me back down. They make me flinch.”

  “They don’t make you do anything, Edward. Your reaction to them, your feelings for them, has changed you.”

  “I’m not sure I like the change.”

  I sighed again. “I know the feeling.”

  “I let you down.”

  “I didn’t mean that.” I lay back down on the bed. Sitting up didn’t hurt, but it didn’t exactly feel good either. “What I meant was that loving people changes you. It’s changed me, too. I’m softer in some ways, harder in others. I haven’t compromised myself as much as you have.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m not trying to live with someone who doesn’t know who and what I am. I’m not driving an eight-year-old to ballet class.”

  “My schedule’s easier to move around than Donna’s.”

  “I know. She runs her own metaphysical store. I remember, but that’s not the point, Edward. The point is that I’m not trying to live a normal life. I’m not even trying to pretend that what I do, and what I am, is normal.”

  “If you had kids, you’d have to try.”

  I nodded. “The pregnancy scare last month made me have to look at that. I don’t see myself ever getting pregnant on purpose. If it happens accidentally we’ll deal, but my life doesn’t work with babies.”

  “You’re saying mine doesn’t either.” He sounded sad, and I hadn’t expected that.

  “No, I mean, I don’t know. It doesn’t work for me because I’m the girl. I’m the one pregnant, and, God forbid, nursing. Sheer biology makes it harder for me to combine gunplay and kids.”

  “I can’t marry Donna, can I?”

  The voice in my head screamed, Nooo, you can’t. But out loud I said, “Again, I can’t answer that. Hell, Edward, I have enough trouble with my own life, I can’t run yours.”

  He gave me a look; it was an Edward look, but there was something in the eyes, something that wasn’t cold, no, it was definitely warm, hot even. I watched the force of personality that could kill gather in his eyes. But what was it gathering for?

  “Edward,” I said, softly, “don’t do anything right now that you’ll regret later.”

  “We kill the vampire that caused this,” he said.

  “Well, of course,” I said. “I meant don’t make any hasty decisions about Donna and the kids. I don’t know much, but I do know that if Peter does turn furry they’ll need you more than ever.”

  “If he does turn furry, can I bring him up here to talk to your friends?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He nodded. He looked at me, his eyes softening a little. “I know you think I should leave Donna and the kids. You’ve always thought it was a bad idea.”

  “Maybe, but you love them, and they love you. Love’s hard to come by, Edward; you should never throw it away just because it’s a bad idea.”

  He laughed. “That made no sense at all.”

  “I’m trying here; what I meant to say was that you all love each other. If you can just make Peter stay home long enough to finish his training…I think in a few years, if he still wants to, he can join the family business, but he isn’t ready now. Put your foot down and explain it like that and make it stick.”

  He nodded. “You think he can do it, what we do?”

  “I think so, if this little adventure didn’t take all the fun out of it for him.”

  He nodded again. “I’ll go find a doctor.” He walked out without a backward glance. I lay in the bed, listening to the sudden whispering silence of the room. I prayed that Peter wouldn’t be a lycanthrope. I prayed that the council wouldn’t let the Harlequin declare war on us. I prayed that we’d all survive. Well, I guess it was too late for Cisco. I hadn’t known him that well, but he’d died defending me. He’d died at eighteen doing his job, defending the people he’d signed up to defend. It was an honorable death, a good death, so why didn’t that make me feel better? Did he have family? Was he somebody’s little boy? Someone’s sweetheart? Who was crying right now for him? Or was there no one to mourn him? Were we, his coworkers and friends, all he had? Strangely, that thought made me more sad than any of the thoughts that had come before.

  36

  THERE WAS A soft knock at the door. Edward wouldn’t knock, and if a doctor knocks it’s followed with an opening door. Who knocks in a hospital? I asked, “Who is it?”

  The answer came, “It’s Truth.”

  A second voice called, “And Wicked.”

  They were brothers, and vampires, and had only recently joined Jean-Claude’s group. The first time I’d met them, Truth had nearly died trying to help me catch a bad guy. They’d been warriors and mercenaries for centuries. Now they were ours. Jean-Claude’s and mine.

  Wicked came through the door first, in his pale-brown designer suit, tailored to the wide sweep of shoulder and the strain of muscles in his arms and legs. He actually went to the gym and had added some bulk to the muscles they’d both started with. His shirt was buttoned up tight, with an elegant tie and a gold tie clip. His blond hair was cut long enough to cover his ears, but still had a few inches to go before it reached shoulder length. He was clean-shaven so that the deep dimple in his chin showed. He was handsome, utterly masculine, and utterly modern from his haircut to his shined shoes. Only the sword hilt peeking from behind one shoulder spoiled the modern effect.

  Truth followed at his brother’s side as he usually did.
He had the same half-growth of dark beard he’d had since I met him. It wasn’t a beard, just as if when he’d died he hadn’t shaved in a while, and he’d never gotten around to changing it. The almost-beard hid the clean, perfect masculine face, the dimple that they shared. You had to stare at them side-by-side for a while to realize how terribly much alike they looked. Truth’s hair was shoulder length, a dark, nondescript brown that was almost black. The hair wasn’t exactly stringy, but it was far from his brother’s shining halo of hair. He wore leather, but it wasn’t Goth leather. It was like fifteenth-century battle-hardened leather crossed with modern motorcycle leather. His boots were knee high, and they had a look about them that said they might be as old as he was, but they fit, they were comfortable, and they were just his boots. He liked them in the way that some men like that favorite chair that has molded to their bodies. So what if they were a little patched and worn; they were comfy.

  Truth had a sword at his back, too. I knew they both were carrying guns—one hidden under the beautiful suit jacket, the other hidden under a leather jacket that had seen better days. The brothers were always well armed.

  “Requiem said he didn’t trust himself around you, so Jean-Claude sent us,” Wicked said. He said it with a smile that filled his blue eyes with speculation.

  “Why would Requiem say that?” Truth asked. His eyes were the mirrors of his brother’s, but the expression in them was totally different. Truth was so sincere it almost hurt. Wicked always seemed to be laughing at me, or at himself, or the world in general.

  “The Harlequin messed with his mind.”

  “So he didn’t trust himself to keep you safe,” Truth said.

  “Something like that,” I said.

  There was another knock on the door, but Graham opened it and peeked through. “We’ve got company out here.”

  Wicked and Truth were suddenly on alert. It was hard to explain, but cops do it, too. One minute normal, ordinary, then suddenly they were on. They were ready.