The darkness curled along the edge of the stage and began to eat the bright lights that usually spotlit the pulpit. Columbine laughed, a high, joyous, cruel sound. “The darkness will eat you all.”
“You’re not causing the darkness, Columbine, you or Giovanni,” I said.
“We are Harlequin,” she said.
“Tell your little friend hanging near the ceiling to show himself or herself.”
Her body went very still. It was better than any human facial expression. There was someone there, and she hadn’t thought any of us would know. Great, now how did it help us?
The darkness was almost here. A darkness that smelled like damp night, and earth, and wolf, like something acrid on my tongue. It wasn’t wolf as I knew it. But I was out of time to analyze it.
I yelled, “Edward, shoot into that corner there.” I pointed at the corner where I knew the vampire was hiding.
Edward and Olaf drew their guns, aimed. The darkness swirled toward us, toward Jean-Claude. I drew my gun and moved in front of him. Remus was beside me. “You’re supposed to have bodyguards, remember?”
Haven came to my other side in a blur of movement. “Finally, something to shoot.”
“Not yet,” I said. “He’s not here yet.”
“Who isn’t here?” Remus asked.
Edward and Olaf’s guns fired, and darkness swallowed the world, black, moonless night. “Shit,” Haven breathed.
They both moved in closer to me. I put my free hand on Remus’s shoulder so I’d know where he was. I moved my leg to brush against Haven’s, but his free hand found my back. At least we wouldn’t shoot each other. We stood, pressed close in the utter dark, guns out, but nothing to see. How do you shoot if you can’t see what you’re shooting at?
Edward yelled, “Anita, can you hear me? We’ve got blood on the wall, but we can’t see what we hit.”
I yelled back, “I hear you.”
“We’re coming,” he said.
I don’t know what I would have yelled back, Come, Don’t come, because Remus said, “Wolf.”
Haven said, “Close.”
There was a wet, thick sound, almost soft, like a knife being pulled out of flesh. If I hadn’t been straining my ears like a son of a bitch, I might not have heard. But it would have been okay, because Remus and Haven turned like one person, and moved me with them, almost like you move a partner on the dance floor. We fired into that sound, that smell of bitter wolf. We fired until it hit us back.
“Claws,” Haven yelled.
Remus was suddenly standing in front of me, enfolding me with his body. I felt him jerk, hard. I yelled, “Haven!”
“Anita,” he yelled, and he was still on my right. I put my gun around Remus’s body and fired into the body on the other side of Remus. I fired until my gun clicked empty. But Haven was there now, his gun shooting into what was on the other side of Remus. Remus’s body jerked, and for a moment I thought Haven had shot Remus by accident, then I heard a sound, a ripping, meaty, wet, horrible sound. Bones cracked, and Remus screamed. Liquid ran hot across my skin. I screamed. Claws grabbed at my shirt. I drew a knife, because it was all I had left. A claw cut across my breast. I cut the claw back. Remus’s arms had tightened around me, pressing me into the claws. I couldn’t see what was happening, and what I was feeling made no sense. Where the hell was the claw coming from?
Haven wasn’t touching me anymore. I heard fighting. “Get away, Anita, get away from him,” Haven said.
“Get away from who?” I asked. I stabbed the claw that wasn’t Remus. I cut it up, but it cut me up, too. I screamed more in frustration than anything. Remus whispered, “I’m sorry.” His arms slid away from me and his knees buckled, but he didn’t fall. I grabbed him, trying to support him, and that was when I realized where the clawed hand was coming from. I had to be wrong. I screamed, “Remus!”
There was movement, sound, fighting. I heard a sound I didn’t recognize, grunts of effort. What the hell was happening? Remus suddenly fell forward. I tried to catch him, but it was too sudden and he outweighed me by a hundred pounds. I fell to the ground with him on top of me. He wasn’t moving. The darkness vanished. I could see again.
There was a severed arm sticking out of Remus’s back. I screamed. I couldn’t help it. More guards were there, picking him up, getting him off me. They couldn’t roll him onto his back, because the arm had pierced his chest. The hand looked human now, but my chest and Remus’s said it hadn’t been human when it went through. His eyes were closed, and he was so still, terribly still.
“Get that thing out of him,” Claudia said.
Fredo was suddenly at her side with a knife the size of a small sword. He raised it up, and I looked away before he brought it down. I saw Wicked and Truth, with bare swords pointed at the throat and chest of a fallen Harlequin that I had never seen before. He was dressed all in black, even his mask. He was missing an arm. Edward and Olaf and more of the guards had Columbine and Giovanni at gunpoint. Jean-Claude, Asher, Requiem, and most of our vampires were gathered around them. I think with the real master Harlequin down, they’d been able to take the other two. Good that something had worked out. Haven was kneeling between the two groups, bleeding, but he’d live. I turned back to Remus. I wasn’t so sure about him.
They had the arm out now, in two pieces, but there was a hole in his chest that I could see through like some sort of cartoon cannon shot. “Fuck,” I said softly, “his heart.”
Claudia looked at me, tears drifting silently down her face. “Bastard had silver bracers on his forearms. Silver, fucking razor wire as fucking jewelry.”
“This one is healing,” Wicked called. “How do we stop him from doing that?”
“Is Remus…” I couldn’t say it.
“Dead,” Claudia said, in a voice that was hard and cold and didn’t match the tears.
“Yeah,” I said.
She just nodded.
“He died saving me,” I said.
“He died doing his job,” she said.
I watched her tears and wondered if he had been more than just a friend to her. I hoped not. In that moment, I hoped not. I got to my feet and fell back down. Richard was beside me, holding me. “You’re hurt.”
“Remus is dead,” I said, and pushed him away.
“Anita, please.”
I shook my head. “Either help me walk over to Wicked and Truth, or go somewhere else.”
“Can I at least see how badly you’re hurt first?”
“No!”
“Do you want Remus to have died for nothing, is that what you want?”
Micah was on my other side. “Let us see, Anita, then we’ll take you to Wicked and Truth.”
Nathaniel was there, too. “Please, Anita.”
I nodded and let them wipe away some of the blood with a cloth that someone gave them. The scratches weren’t that deep, deep enough that if I’d been a little more human I might have needed stitches, and seeing that they were across the mound of one breast I should have been more worried about that whole cosmetic thing, but strangely, I wasn’t.
“Take me to them,” I said.
Richard took one arm and Nathaniel the other. They lifted me to my feet and helped me walk where I wanted to go. Micah followed us, carrying bandages. Maybe I’d even let him use them on me eventually. Remus was dead, and I wanted to know why. Or maybe, how? The thing that had come out of the darkness had been a vampire that smelled like a wolf and had claws like a powerful shapeshifter. Impossible. But Remus was dead, so it had to be possible.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I am Harlequin.”
“One of, or the?” I asked. My voice sounded strangely distant inside my own head, as if the distance was greater than it should have been.
“I am Pantalone, once Pantaleon. I was one of the first children of the dark.”
“You didn’t send us a black mask, Pantalone, but you tried to kill us. That’s against council law. Hell, that’s against the Moth
er of All Darkness’s law.”
“You know nothing of our mother, human. You are not vampire, or succubus. You are a necromancer, and our laws say you can be killed on sight.”
I smelled jasmine. Nathaniel said, “Flowers.”
Richard said, “What is that?”
I felt the rain on the edge of a wind that hadn’t existed for a million years. I tasted jasmine on my tongue, sweet and cloying. I wasn’t afraid this time. I welcomed it. Because I knew I wasn’t the one she was pissed at. Though pissed was too strong for the feeling I got as she breathed closer. Pissed was too human an emotion, and as she’d said herself, she’d lost the knack of being human.
“Marmee Noir,” Nathaniel answered Richard. I’d forgotten he’d asked a question.
“Anita,” Richard said, “fight it, fight her.”
“If you aren’t going to help me do this, then get away from me.”
“Do what, let the Mother of All Vampires possess you?”
I screamed at him, “Get away from me, Richard, now!” A cut opened on his arm like a red mouth. It wasn’t Marmee Noir; I’d done that a couple of times before under stress. I couldn’t do it dependably, but…“That’s not her, that’s me. Help me, or get away.” I fought to keep my voice even, because my emotions were dangerous, apparently.
“Don’t let her inside you.”
“Micah, take my arm.”
“Don’t let her do this,” Richard said to him.
“We are still in danger here, Richard,” Micah said. “Don’t you get that? We have to finish what we started.”
“You mean kill them?”
“Yes,” I said, “yes, kill them. Kill them all!” Another cut opened on Richard’s arm. He let me go, as if I were something hot that had burned him. Micah slid furred arms around me. He and Nathaniel led me forward, so I could do what needed to be done. No, truth, what I was going to do. Not need, want. I wanted him dead. He’d killed Remus, and Remus had died because the vampire on the ground had meant to kill me. Remus had given his life to save mine. I’d pay my debt, now, tonight, in the blood and pain of his killer. It sounded like such a good idea.
The smell of jasmine was everywhere. I could taste rain on my tongue. The wind was cool and fresh against my face, and the wind was coming from me.
47
“TAKE OFF HIS mask,” I said, but the voice held an echo of a different voice.
“If you see my face I will be forced to kill you all,” he said.
I laughed, and the laughter made the wind play around the room, patting with cool, damp hands at people’s hair, their skin. “You are going to die tonight, Pantalone. Your mask can come off now, or after your corpse lies stretched at my feet. I prefer now, but I guess it really doesn’t matter.” The wind eased back. I was drowning in the scent of rain and jasmine.
He struck at me with his own power. It was like some spirit wolf, a great dark beast that rose from him and came at me, huge jaws agape. Micah and Nathaniel pulled me backward, but though it looked like a shadow, it hit me and pulled us all to the floor. People were running from everywhere, but Marmee was already there. The shadow wolf spilled into me; she absorbed it like something melting into the snow. With the touch of his power came a memory.
A snowstorm, so cold, the wind howling, so that he thought he heard voices on the wind. He’d found a cave, buried in the snow. Shelter, he thought. Then he’d heard the growl, low and too close. Something else had taken shelter from the storm. Then a woman had stepped into the light of his fire. A woman with a spill of dark hair and eyes that glittered in the firelight. He had smelled death on her and tried to fight. I felt his body run hot and spill bone and muscle and flesh from human to wolf. But a wolf like none that still walked today. She had turned into a huge striped cat, the color of a lion, but striped like a tiger, bigger than both. She’d nearly killed him, but when pain and injury had turned him back to human, she’d fed on him. She fed on him for three days until the storm stopped, and when the fourth night rose, they went out together, to hunt.
I came back to the here and now and found that Wicked and Truth had pierced his heart and neck with their swords. He cursed them, and writhed, but he wasn’t dead. I knew, I just knew that swords would not kill him. He was old blood. Blood when vampire and shapeshifter could be one, back before the blood weakened. We could take his head and heart and burn the pieces separately, but didn’t I want answers? Yes, I did.
I sat back up with Micah and Nathaniel’s help. “Your actions could get the entire Harlequin disbanded; don’t you care?”
“Kill me, if you can, but I will not answer questions from you.”
The darkness inside me thought otherwise. “Fredo,” I called.
The slender knife-wielding man was just beside me. “Can you get enough help and enough knives to pin him to the floor?”
“We can pin him, but unless we’re leaning on the knives, they won’t hold him.”
“Then pin him with your bodies, I don’t care how. I need to touch him.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“Tonight, yes,” he said.
I looked up into his dark eyes. I saw pain there. I answered that pain. “The darkness can make him talk, and then I’m going to kill him.”
Fredo nodded. “Good plan.” He went around getting volunteers to hold the vampire down. There were a lot of volunteers.
Jean-Claude came to me while they were wrestling him into place. “I feel her all around you, ma petite.”
“Yeah,” I said, but I wasn’t looking at him. I was watching them pin the big vampire.
“Look at me.” He touched my chin and turned me so that I would look at him. I didn’t fight him, but I didn’t seem to care whether I looked at him or not. “There is a light in your eyes that I do not know.”
I half-saw, out of the corner of my eye, a dark figure form. She formed of the dark, and she looked vaguely like she had in my dream, all-black cloak, a small female figure. But this was no dream.
Screams again from the vampires. The ones with Asher, standing guard over Columbine and Giovanni, held their ground, but no one was happy.
Pantalone himself screamed, like a girl. It made it harder for the guards to wrestle him into submission. Oh, well.
The figure spoke, and the smell of jasmine and rain was in her voice, or on the wind, or the wind was her voice. I wasn’t sure which. “Did you think my laws were superstitions, Jean-Claude? You were supposed to kill her when you knew what she was. Now it is too late.”
“Too late for what?” he said, and he wrapped his arm around me, drew me in against his body, and we both looked up as my nightmare damn near materialized in front of us.
“She’s a necromancer, Jean-Claude, she controls the dead, all the dead. Don’t you understand yet? Some of the Harlequin think I woke because I want to steal her body, ride her as the Traveller rides other vampires. I had that gift once, to travel from body to body, but that is not why I woke.”
“Why did you wake?” he whispered.
“She attracts the dead, Jean-Claude, all the dead. She called me from my sleep. Her power called to me like the first ray of sunlight after a thousand years of night. Her warmth and life called to my death. Even I cannot resist her. Do you understand now?”
“You are so not under my power,” I said.
She gave a low, dry chuckle. “Legend says that necromancers can control the dead, and that is true, but what legend does not say is that the dead give necromancers no peace. We pester the poor things, because they draw us like moths to the flame, except with vampires and necromancers it is a question who is flame and who is moth. Beware, Jean-Claude, that she does not burn you up. Beware, necromancer, that the vampires do not put you in your grave.”
“Your law,” Pantalone yelled, “your law says she must be put to death.”
The dark figure turned toward the struggling pile of people. “Do not dare speak to me of my laws, Pantalone. I made you. I gave you a p
iece of myself, that is what made you one of the Harlequin. I have been listening to vampires that dwell closer to my physical form. You have been assassinating vampires for council members. You are neutral. You take no sides. That is what makes the Harlequin!” Her voice rose as she spoke until the wind held not just rain but the promise of storm. “I will take back what I gave you. What you used to make these pale imitations of my Columbine and her Giovanni. These are not my Harlequin.”
“Columbine died. I had to make a replacement, and you were not here to guide me.”
“Then the mask should have been retired, and the name with it. That was my will, and our way, once.” She began to walk toward them. I could almost see her foot, dainty in a slipper edged with white pearls.
Jean-Claude called, “Do not look upon her face. For fear of sanity and life do not meet her eyes, any of you.”
“I am not the Traveller, to need to steal bodies to walk. I did need flesh once, but I am the darkness made flesh, Pantalone. I am she who made you, made you all! Killing the necromancer will not put me back to sleep again. It is too late for that.”
It was Jake who knelt beside me, and Jean-Claude. Jake whispered, “She’s using your energy to manifest, Anita. You have to shut her down before she’s solid here. You do not want her in America in flesh and bone.”
I looked at him, and I knew. “You’re one of them.”
Jake nodded.
“You saved ma petite, when you could have let her die in the bathroom at the Circus,” Jean-Claude said.
“The Mother was always going to wake again, nothing would prevent that. Some of us believe that Anita is our only hope of controlling her. Prove my master right by shutting down the power you’re feeding her.”
“I don’t know…”
“She’s feeding on your anger, your rage.”
“I don’t know how to stop that.”
“If she feeds on Pantalone, one of the oldest of us, she may have enough power to be permanent flesh.”
The black-cloaked figure was standing at his feet. The guards were looking at me. I said the only thing I could think of: “Get away from him.”
[Anita Blake 15] - The Harlequin Page 46
