I could feel where he had touched me, a lingering sensation. I looked at the ground while I spoke. “I appreciate the possible fringe benefits, Jean-Claude, really. But I can’t. I won’t.” I met his eyes. His face was a terrible blankness. Nothing. It was the same face of a moment ago, but some spark of humanity, of life, was gone.
My pulse started thudding again. It had nothing to do with sex. Fear. It had a lot to do with fear.
“As you like, my little animator. Whether we are lovers or not, it does not change what you are to me. You are my human servant.”
“No,” I said.
“You are mine, Anita. Willing or not, you are mine.”
“See, Jean-Claude, here’s where you lose me. First you try seducing me, which has its pleasant side. When that doesn’t work, you resort to threats.”
“It is not a threat, ma petite. It is the truth.”
“No, it isn’t. And stop calling me ma fucking petite.”
He smiled at that.
I didn’t want him amused by me. Anger replaced fear in a quick warm rush. I liked anger. It made me brave, and stupid. “Fuck you.”
“I have already offered that.” His voice made something low jerk in my stomach.
I felt the rush of heat as I blushed. “Damn you, Jean-Claude, damn you.”
“We need to talk, ma petite. Lovers or not, servant or not, we need to talk.”
“Then talk. I haven’t got all night.”
He sighed. “You don’t make this easy.”
“If it was easy you wanted, you should have picked on someone else.”
He nodded. “Very true. Please, be seated.” He went back to lean on the desk, arms crossed over his chest.
“I don’t have that kind of time,” I said.
He frowned slightly. “I thought we agreed to talk this out, ma petite.”
“We agreed to meet at eleven. You’re the one who wasted an hour, not me.”
His smile was almost bitter. “Very well. I will give you a...condensed version.”
I nodded. “Fine with me.”
“I am the new Master of the City. But to survive with Nikolaos alive, I had to hide my powers. I did it too well. There are those who think I am not powerful enough to be the Master of all. They are challenging me. One of the things they are using against me is you.”
“How?”
“Your disobedience. I cannot even control my own human servant. How can I possibly control all the vampires in the city and surrounding areas?”
“What do you want from me?”
He smiled then, wide and genuine, flashing fangs. “I want you to be my human servant.”
“Not in this lifetime, Jean-Claude.”
“I can force the third mark on you, Anita.” There was no threat as he said it. It was just a fact.
“I would rather die than be your human servant.” Master vampires can smell the truth. He would know I meant it.
“Why?”
I opened my mouth to try to explain, but didn’t. He would not understand. We stood two feet apart but it might have been miles. Miles across some dark chasm. We could not bridge that gap. He was a walking corpse. Whatever he had been as a living man, it was gone. He was the Master of the City, and that was nothing even close to human.
“If you force this issue, I will kill you,” I said.
“You mean that.” There was surprise in his voice. It isn’t often a girl gets to surprise a centuries-old vampire.
“Yes.”
“I do not understand you, ma petite.”
“I know,” I said.
“Could you pretend to be my servant?”
It was an odd question. “What does pretending mean?”
“You come to a few meetings. You stand at my side with your guns and your reputation.”
“You want the Executioner at your back.” I stared at him for a space of heartbeats. The true horror of what he’d just said floated slowly through my mind. “I thought the two marks were accident. That you panicked. You meant all along to mark me, didn’t you?”
He just smiled.
“Answer me, you son of a bitch.”
“If the chance arose, I was not averse to it.”
“Not averse to it!” I was almost yelling. “You cold-bloodedly chose me to be your human servant! Why?”
“You are the Executioner.”
“Damn you, what does that mean?”
“It is impressive to be the vampire who finally caught you.”
“You haven’t caught me.”
“If you would behave yourself, the others would think so. Only you and I need know that it is pretense.”
I shook my head. “I won’t play your game, Jean-Claude.”
“You will not help me?”
“You got it.”
“I offer you immortality. Without the compromise of vampirism. I offer you myself. There have been women over the years who would have done anything I asked just for that.”
“Sex is sex, Jean-Claude. No one’s that good.”
He smiled slightly. “Vampires are different, ma petite. If you were not so stubborn, you might find out how different.”
I had to look away from his eyes. The look was too intimate. Too full of possibilities.
“There’s only one thing I want from you,” I said.
“And what is that, ma petite?”
“All right, two things. First, stop calling me ma petite; second, let me go. Wipe these damn marks away.”
“You may have the first request, Anita.”
“And the second?”
“I cannot, even if I wanted to.”
“Which you don’t,” I said.
“Which I don’t.”
“Stay away from me, Jean-Claude. Stay the fuck away from me, or I’ll kill you.”
“Many people have tried through the years.”
“How many of them had eighteen kills?”
His eyes widened just a bit. “None. There was this man in Hungary who swore he killed five.”
“What happened to him?”
“I tore his throat out.”
“You understand this, Jean-Claude. I would rather have my throat torn out. I would rather die trying to kill you than submit to you.” I stared at him, trying to see if he understood any of what I said. “Say something.”
“I have heard your words. I know you mean them.” He was suddenly standing in front of me. I hadn’t seen him move, hadn’t felt him in my head. He was just suddenly inches in front of me. I think I gasped.
“Could you truly kill me?” His voice was like silk on a wound, gentle with an edge of pain. Like sex. It was like velvet rubbing inside my skull. It felt good, even with fear tearing through my body. Shit. He could still have me. Still take me down. No way.
I looked up into his so-blue eyes and said, “Yes.”
I meant it. He blinked once, gracefully, and stepped back. “You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met,” he said. There was no play in his voice this time. It was a flat statement.
“That’s the nicest compliment you’ve ever paid me.”
He stood in front of me, hands at his sides. He stood very still. Snakes or birds can stand utterly still but even a snake has a sense of aliveness, of action waiting to resume. Jean-Claude stood there with no sense of anything, as if despite what my eyes told me, he had vanished. He was not there at all. The dead make no noise.
“What happened to your face?”
I touched the swollen cheek before I could stop myself. “Nothing,” I lied.
“Who hit you?”
“Why, so you can go beat him up?”
“One of the fringe benefits of being my servant is my protection.”
“I don’t need your protection, Jean-Claude.”
“He hurt you.”
“And I shoved a gun into his groin and made him tell me everything he knew,” I said.
Jean-Claude smiled. “You did what?”
“I shoved a gun into his balls,
alright?”
His eyes started to sparkle. Laughter spread across his face and burst out between his lips. He laughed full-throated.
The laugh was like candy: sweet, and infectious. If you could bottle Jean-Claude’s laugh, I know it would be fattening. Or orgasmic.
“Ma petite, ma petite, you are absolutely marvelous.”
I stared at him, letting that wonderful, touchable laugh roll around me. It was time to go. It is very hard to be dignified when someone is laughing uproariously at you. But I managed.
My parting shot made him laugh harder. “Stop calling me ma petite.”
Chapter 22
I stepped back out into the noise of the club. Charles was standing beside the table, not sitting. He looked uncomfortable from a distance. What had gone wrong now?
His big hands were twisted together. Dark face scrunched up into near pain. A kind God had made Charles look big and bad, because inside he was all marshmallow. If I’d had Charles’s natural size and strength, I’d have been a guaranteed bad ass. It was sort of sad and unfair.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I called Caroline,” he said.
“And?”
“The baby-sitter’s sick. And Caroline’s been called in to the hospital. Someone has to stay with Sam while she goes to work.”
“Mm-huh,” I said.
He didn’t look the least bit tough when he said, “Can going down to the Tenderloin wait until tomorrow?”
I shook my head.
“You’re not going to go down there alone,” Charles said. “Are you?”
I stared up at the great mountain of a man, and sighed. “I can’t wait, Charles.”
“But the Tenderloin.” He lowered his voice as if just saying the word too loud would bring a cloud of pimps and prostitutes to descend upon us. “You can’t go down there alone at night.”
“I’ve gone worse places, Charles. I’ll be all right.”
“No, I won’t let you go alone. Caroline can just get a new sitter or tell the hospital no.” He smiled when he said it. Always happy to help a friend. Caroline would give him hell for it. Worst of all, now I didn’t want to take Charles with me. You had to do more than look tough.
What if Gaynor got wind of me questioning Wanda? What if he found Charles and thought he was involved? No. It had been selfish to risk Charles. He had a four-year-old son. And a wife.
Harold Gaynor would eat Charles raw for dinner. I couldn’t involve him. He was a big, friendly, eager-to-please bear. A lovable, cuddly bear. I didn’t need a teddy bear for backup. I needed someone who would be able to take any heat that Gaynor might send our way.
I had an idea.
“Go home, Charles. I won’t go alone. I promise.”
He looked uncertain. Like maybe he didn’t trust me. Fancy that. “Anita, are you sure? I won’t leave you hanging like this.”
“Go on, Charles. I’ll take backup.”
“Who can you get at this hour?”
“No questions. Go home to your son.”
He looked uncertain, but relieved. He hadn’t really wanted to go to the Tenderloin. Maybe Caroline’s short leash was what Charles wanted, needed. An excuse for all the things he really didn’t want to do. What a basis for a marriage.
But, hey, if it works, don’t fix it.
Charles left with many apologies. But I knew he was glad to go. I would remember that he had been glad to go.
I knocked on the office door. There was a silence, then, “Come in, Anita.”
How had he known it was me? I wouldn’t ask. I didn’t want to know.
Jean-Claude seemed to be checking figures in a large ledger. It looked antique with yellowed pages and fading ink. The ledger looked like something Bob Crachit should have been scribbling in on a cold Christmas Eve.
“What have I done to merit two visits in one night?” he said.
Looking at him now, I felt silly. I spent all this time avoiding him. Now I was going to invite him to accompany me on a bit of sleuthing? But it would kill two bats with one stone. It would please Jean-Claude, and I really didn’t want him angry with me, if I could avoid it. And if Gaynor did try to go up against Jean-Claude, I was betting on Jean-Claude.
It was what Jean-Claude had done to me a few weeks ago. He had chosen me as the vampire’s champion. Put me up against a monster that had slain three master vampires. And he had bet that I would come out on top against Nikolaos. I had, but just barely.
What was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander. I smiled sweetly at him. Pleased to be able to return the favor so quickly.
“Would you care to accompany me to the Tenderloin?”
He blinked, surprise covering his face just like a real person. “To what purpose?”
“I need to question a prostitute about a case I’m working on. I need backup.”
“Backup?” he asked.
“I need backup that looks more threatening than I do. You fit the bill.”
He smiled beatifically. “I would be your bodyguard.”
“You’ve given me enough grief, do something nice for a change.”
The smile vanished. “Why this sudden change of heart, ma petite?”
“My backup had to go home and baby-sit his kid.”
“And if I do not go?”
“I’ll go alone,” I said.
“Into the Tenderloin?”
“Yep.”
He was suddenly standing by the desk, walking towards me. I hadn’t seen him rise.
“I wish you’d stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Clouding my mind so I can’t see you move.”
“I do it as often as I can, ma petite, just to prove I still can.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I gave up much of my power over you when I gave you the marks. I practice what little games are left me.” He was standing almost in front of me. “Lest you forget who and what I am.”
I stared up into his blue, blue eyes. “I never forget that you are the walking dead, Jean-Claude.”
An expression I could not read passed over his face. It might have been pain. “No, I see the knowledge in your eyes of what I am.” His voice dropped low, almost a whisper, but it wasn’t seductive. It was human. “Your eyes are the clearest mirror I have ever seen, ma petite. Whenever I begin to pretend to myself. Whenever I have delusions of life. I have only to look into your face and see the truth.”
What did he expect me to say? Sorry, I’ll try to ignore the fact that you’re a vampire. “So why keep me around?” I asked.
“Perhaps if Nikolaos had had such a mirror, she would not have been such a monster.”
I stared at him. He might be right. It made his choice of me as human servant almost noble. Almost. Oh, hell. I would not start feeling sorry for the freaking Master of the City. Not now. Not ever.
We would go down to the Tenderloin. Pimps beware. I was bringing the Master as backup. It was like carrying a thermonuclear device to kill ants. Overkill has always been a specialty of mine.
Chapter 23
The Tenderloin was originally the red light district on the Riverfront in the 1800s. But the Tenderloin, like so much of St. Louis, moved uptown. Go down Washington past the Fox Theater, where you can see Broadway traveling companies sing bright musicals. Keep driving down Washington to the west edge of downtown St. Louis and you will come to the resurrected carcass of the Tenderloin.
The night streets are neon-coated, sparkling, flashing, pulsing-colors. It looks like some sort of pornographic carnival. All it needs is a Ferris wheel in one of the empty lots. They could sell cotton candy shaped like naked people. The kiddies could play while Daddy went to get his jollies. Mom would never have to know.
Jean-Claude sat beside me in the car. He had been utterly silent on the drive over. I had had to glance at him a time or two just to make sure he was still there. People make noise. I don’t mean talking or belching or anything overt. But people,
as a rule, can’t just sit without making noise. They fidget, the sound of cloth rubbing against the seats; they breathe, the soft intake of air; they wet their lips, wet, quiet, but noise. Jean-Claude didn’t do any of these things as we drove. I couldn’t even swear he blinked. The living dead, yippee.
I can take silence as good as the next guy, better than most women and a lot of men. Now, I needed to fill the silence. Talk just for the noise. A waste of energy, but I needed it.
“Are you in there, Jean-Claude?”
His neck turned, bringing his head with it. His eyes glittered, reflecting the neon signs like dark glass. Shit.
“You can play human, Jean-Claude, better than almost any vampire I’ve ever met. What’s all this supernatural crap?”
“Crap?” he said, voice soft.
“Yeah, why are you going all spooky on me?”
“Spooky?” he asked, and the sound filled the car. As if the word meant something else entirely.
“Stop that,” I said.
“Stop what?”
“Answering every question with a question.”
He blinked once. “So sorry, ma petite, but I can feel the street.”
“Feel the street? What does that mean?”
He settled back against the upholstery, leaning his head and neck into the seat. His hand clasped over his stomach. “There is a great deal of life here.”
“Life?” He had me doing it now.
“Yes,” he said, “I can feel them running back and forth. Little creatures, desperately seeking love, pain, acceptance, greed. A lot of greed here, too, but mostly pain and love.”
“You don’t come to a prostitute for love. You come for sex.”
He rolled his head so his dark eyes stared at me. “Many people confuse the two.”
I stared at the road. The hairs at the back of my neck were standing at attention. “You haven’t fed yet tonight, have you?”
“You are the vampire expert. Can you not tell?” His voice had dropped to almost a whisper. Hoarse and thick.
“You know I can never tell with you.”
“A compliment to my powers, I’m sure.”
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