"Anita?" It was Edward.
"How did you know where I was?"
"All that matters is that if I can find you, so can someone else."
"Is the contract still on?"
"Yes."
"Damn. What about the time deadline?"
"Expanded to forty-eight hours."
"Well, shit. Aren't theydetermined."
"I think you should go underground for a while, Anita."
"You mean hide?"
"Yeah."
"I thought you wanted me to be bait."
"If you stay out as bait, we need more bodyguards. The werewolves and vamps are monsters, but they're still amateurs. We're professionals, it's what gives us our edge. I'm good, but I can't be everywhere."
"Like following me into the women's john," I said.
I heard him sigh. "I let you down."
"I was careless, too, Edward."
"So you agree?"
"To hiding? Yeah. You got some place in mind?"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
"I don't like the tone in your voice, Edward."
"It's the most secure place in town and has built-in bodyguards."
"Where?" That one word sounded suspicious even to me.
"Circus of the Damned," he said.
"You have got to be out of your freaking mind."
"It's the Master's daytime retreat, Anita. It's a fortress. Jean-Claude's sealed up the tunnel we came through to get Nikolaos. It's secure."
"You want me to spend the day bedded down with vampires. I don't think so."
"You going back to Richard's house?" Edward asked. "How safe are you going to be there? How safe will you be anywhere above ground?"
"Dammit, Edward."
"I'm right, and you know it."
I wanted to argue, but he was right. The Circus was the most secure place I knew. Hell, the place had dungeons. But the idea of voluntarily sleeping there made my skin crawl. "How can I rest surrounded by vampires, even friendly ones?"
"Jean-Claude's offered you his bed. Before you get mad, he'll sleep in his coffin."
"That's what he says now," I said.
"I'm not worried about your virtue, Anita. I'm worried about keeping you alive. And I'm admitting that I can't keep you safe. I'm good. I'm the best money can buy, but I'm only one person. One person, no matter how good, isn't enough."
That was scary. Edward admitting that he was in over his head. I never thought I'd live to see it. Come to think of it, I almost hadn't.
"Okay, I'll do it, but for how long?"
"You hide out, and I'll check some things. If I don't have to guard you, I can do more."
"How long?"
"A day, maybe two."
"What if whoever it is finds out I'm at the Circus?"
"They might try for you," Edward said. His voice was very matter-of-fact when he said it.
"And if they do?"
"If you, a half dozen vampires, and almost that many werewolves can't handle the action, then I don't think it matters."
"You're just comforting as hell."
"I know you, Anita. If I was any more comforting, you might refuse to hide."
"Twenty-four hours, Edward, then I want another plan. I am not going to hide at the bottom of a hole and wait for people to kill me."
"Agreed. I'll pick you up after you make your statement to the cops."
"Where do you get your information?"
He laughed, but it was harsh. "If I know where you'll be, so does someone else. Might ask your cop friends if they have a spare vest."
"You mean a bulletproof vest?"
"Couldn't hurt."
"Are you trying to scare me?"
"Yes."
"You're doing a good job."
"Thanks. Don't come out of the police station until I come in and get you. Avoid being in the open if you can."
"You really think someone else will try to hit me tonight?"
"We're planning for worst-case scenarios from now on, Anita. No more chances. I'll see you then." He hung up before I could say anything else.
I stood there holding the phone, scared. In all the panic with Monica and her baby, I'd almost forgotten that someone was trying to kill me. Probably not a good thing to forget.
I started to hang the phone up, but dialed Richard's number instead. He answered on the second ring, which meant he'd been waiting up. Damn.
"Richard, it's me."
"Anita, where are you?" His voice sounded relieved, then cautious. "I mean, are you coming back here tonight?"
The answer was no, but not for the reasons he feared. I told him what had happened, the shortest possible version.
"Whose idea was it that you stay with Jean-Claude?" There was a hint of anger in his voice.
"I am not staying with Jean-Claude. I am staying at the Circus."
"And the difference is what?"
"Look, Richard, I am too tired to argue with you about this. Edward suggested it, and you know he likes Jean-Claude even less than you do."
"I doubt that," he said.
"Richard, I did not call you to fight. I called to tell you what's happening."
"I appreciate the call." I'd never heard him sound so sarcastic. "Do you want your clothes?"
"Damn, I hadn't even thought about that."
"I'll bring them to the Circus."
"You don't have to do that, Richard."
"You don't want me to?"
"No, I'd love to have my stuff, and not just the clothes if you get my drift?"
"I'll bring it all."
"Thanks."
"I'll pack a bag for myself."
"Do you think that's a good idea?"
"I've stayed at the Circus before. Remember, I used to be one of Jean-Claude's wolves."
"I remember. Should you ask Jean-Claude's permission before you invite yourself over?"
"I'll phone first. Unless you don't want me there tonight." His voice was very quiet.
"If it's okay with Jean-Claude, it's fine with me. I could use the moral support."
He let out a breath like he'd been holding it. "Great. Great, I'll see you there."
"I have to give a statement to the cops about the incident at Danse Macabre. It could take a couple of hours, so don't rush."
"Afraid Jean-Claude will hurt me?" He was quiet for a moment. "Or are you afraid I'll hurt him?"
I thought about that. "Worried about you."
"Glad to hear it," he said, and I could hear him smile.
The reason I was worried about Richard is he wasn't a killer. Jean-Claude was. Richard might start a fight, but Jean-Claude would finish it. I didn't say any of this out loud. Richard wouldn't have appreciated it.
"I'm looking forward to seeing you tonight," he said.
"Even at the Circus?"
"Anywhere. Love you."
"Love you, too."
We hung up. Neither of us had said good-bye, a Freudian slip, perhaps.
I was betting that Richard and Jean-Claude would find something to fight about, and I was really too tired to mess with it. But if I'd told Richard to stay away, he would have assumed I wanted to be alone with Jean-Claude, which was certainly not true. So they'd have their little fight. Frankly, I had my own fight all picked out, one involving me, Jean-Claude, and Damian. They'd broken the law at Danse Macabre, broken it enough that with the right judge, I might have gotten a warrant of execution on Damian. We could have one great big glorious knock-down, drag-out fight.
I wondered where everybody would sleep, and with who.
21
Circus of the Damned is a combination of traveling carnival, circus, and one of the lower rungs of hell. Out front, fanged clowns dance above the lights that spell the name. Posters stretch the sides of the building, proclaiming, "Watch zombies rise from the grave. See the Lamia—half-snake, half-woman." There is no trickery at the Circus, everything advertised is absolutely real. It is one of the few vampire tourist attractions that welcome children. If
I'd had a kid, I wouldn't have brought the little tyke near the place. Even I didn't feel safe.
Edward had picked me up outside the police station, just like he said he would. My statement had taken three hours, not two. The only reason I got out that soon was Bob, Catherine's husband and fellow lawyer, had finally told them to charge me or let me go. Truthfully, I thought they might charge me. But I had three witnesses saying the killing was self-defense, witnesses that I'd never met before tonight. That helped. The DA usually didn't charge on self-defense cases. Usually.
Edward took me into the Circus through a side door. There were no lights to mark it as special, but there was also no doorknob on the outside of the steel reinforced door. Edward knocked. The door opened, and in we went.
Jason closed the door behind us. I had missed him earlier at Danse Macabre. I certainly would have remembered the outfit. He was wearing a sleeveless plastic shirt, molded to his body. The pants were half crinkly blue cloth that looked like colored foil, with oval plastic windows, exposing his thigh, calf, and as he turned, one buttock.
I shook my head, smiling. "Please tell me Jean-Claude didn't make you wear that out where people could see you."
Jason grinned at me and turned so he flashed his butt at me. "Don't you like it?"
"I'm not sure," I said.
"Discuss fashion later, in a more secure place," Edward said. He glanced at the door to our right that led into the main part of the Circus. It was never locked, though it had a sign above the door about authorized personnel only. We were standing in a stone room with an electric light dangling from the ceiling. It was a storage area. A third door was set in the far wall. Behind it was a stairway and the nether regions where the vampires stayed during the day.
"I'll be underground, literally, soon enough, Edward."
Edward looked at me for a long moment. "You promised to hide out for twenty-four hours. No going outside for any reason. Don't even go into the main part of the Circus when it's open to the public. Just stay downstairs."
"Aye, aye, Captain."
"This isn't a joke, Anita."
I tugged at the bulletproof vest I'd put over my dress. It was too large for me, hot, and uncomfortable. "If I thought it was funny, I wouldn't have worn this."
"I'll bring you some armor that fits when I come back."
I met his pale blue eyes and saw something I'd never seen before. He was worried.
"You think they're going to kill me, don't you?"
He didn't look away. He didn't flinch. But what I saw in his face made me wish he had. "When I come back tomorrow, I'll have help with me."
"What kind of help?"
"My kind."
"What does that mean?"
He shook his head. "Twenty-four hours means that you hide until dawn tomorrow, Anita. With luck, I'll have a name for us, and we can kill him. Don't be careless while I'm gone."
I wanted to say something casual, joking, like "I didn't know you cared," but I couldn't. I couldn't joke staring into his serious eyes.
"I'll be careful."
He nodded. "Lock the door behind me." He went outside and Jason locked the door.
Jason leaned against the door for a second. "Why does he scare me?"
"Because you're not stupid," I said.
He smiled. "Thanks."
"Let's get downstairs," I said.
"Nervous?"
"It's been a long night, Jason. No games."
He pushed away from the door and said, "Lead the way."
I opened the door to the stone stairway, which led downward. It was wide enough for us to walk abreast. In fact, there was almost room for a third, as if the stairway had been built for wider things than human bodies.
Jason closed the door with a resounding thank. It made me jump. He started to say something, but the look on my face stopped him. Edward's parting comments had unnerved me. If I didn't know better, I'd have said I was scared. Naw.
Jason walked down the steps ahead of me, exaggerating his walk just a touch to show off his derriere.
"You can cut the peep show," I said.
"You don't like the view?" He leaned against the wall, hands pressed behind him, showing off his chest.
I laughed and walked past him, clicking my nails down his shirt. It was solid and hard as a beetle's carapace. "Is that as uncomfortable as it looks?"
He fell into step beside me. "It's not uncomfortable. The ladies at Danse Macabre liked it a lot."
I glanced at him. "I bet they did."
"I like flirting."
"No joke."
He laughed. "For someone who doesn't flirt, you have a lot of guys after you."
"Maybe because I don't flirt," I said.
Jason was quiet as we walked to the bend in the stairs. "You mean because you're a challenge, they keep coming around?"
"Something like that."
I couldn't see around the bend of the stairs. I hated not being able to see around corners. But this time I was invited; I hadn't come to kill anybody. The vamps tended to be a lot friendlier when you weren't trying to kill them.
"Is Richard here yet?"
"Not yet." He glanced back at me. "Do you think it's a good idea to have them both here at the same time?"
"No," I said, "absolutely not."
"Well, at least we all agree it's a bad idea," he said.
The door at the bottom of the stairs was iron bound, made of a heavy, dark wood. It looked like a portal to another time—a time when dungeons were in vogue, and knights rescued ladies fair or slaughtered a few peasants and no one minded, except maybe the peasants.
Jason drew a key out of his pants pocket. He unlocked the door and pushed. It opened on well-oiled hinges.
"Since when did you get a key?" I asked.
"I live here now."
"What about college?"
He shrugged. "It doesn't seem very important anymore."
"You plan on being Jean-Claude's lap-wolf forever?"
"I'm having a good time," he said.
I shook my head. "I fight like hell to stay free of him, and you just give in. I don't understand that at all."
"You have a college degree, right?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"I don't. But here we both are, ending up in the same place."
He had me there.
Jason motioned me through the door with a low flourish that had imitation Jean-Claude written all over it. Jean-Claude made it seem courtly and real. Jason meant it for a joke.
The door led into Jean-Claude's living room. The ceiling stretched up into darkness, but silken drapes hung in black and white folds that formed cloth walls on three sides. The fourth side was bare stone, painted white. A white stone fireplace looked original, which I knew it wasn't. The mantlepiece was black-veined white marble. A silver fireplace screen hid the hearth. There were four chairs in black and silver grouped around a wood and glass coffee table. A black vase sat on the table filled with white tulips. My high heels sank into the thick, black carpet.
There was one other addition to the room that stopped me in my tracks. A painting hung above the fireplace. Three people dressed in the style of the 1600s. The woman wore white and silver with a square bodice showing quite a bit of decolletage, her brown hair styled in careful ringlets. She held a red rose loosely in one hand. A man stood behind her, tall and slender, with dark gold hair in ringlets over his shoulders. He had a mustache and a Vandyke beard, so dark gold they were almost brown. He wore one of those floppy hats with feathers and was dressed in white and gold. But it was the other man who made me walk towards the painting.
He was seated just behind the woman. He was dressed in black with silver embroidery and a wide lace collar and lace cuffs. He held a floppy black hat with a single white feather and a silver buckle across his lap. Black hair fell in ringlets over his shoulders. He was clean shaven, and the artist had managed to capture the sinking blue of his eyes. I stared at Jean-Claude's face painted hundreds of years before I was
born. The other two were smiling. Only he was solemn and perfect, dark to their lightness. He was like the shadow of death come to the ball.
I knew Jean-Claude was centuries old, but I'd never had such obvious proof, never had it shoved in my face. The portrait bothered me for another reason. It made me wonder if Jean-Claude had lied about his age.
A sound made me turn. Jason had slumped into one of the chairs. Jean-Claude stood behind me. He'd taken off his jacket and his curling black hair spilled across the shoulders of his crimson shirt. The shirt cuffs were long and tight at the wrist, held by three antique jet beads just like the high neck of the shirt. Without the jacket to distract the eye, the pale oval of skin framed by the red cloth gleamed. The cloth covered his nipples but left his belly button bare and drew the eye to the top of his black pants. Or maybe it just drew me. It was a bad idea to be here. He was just as dangerous as the assassin, maybe more. Dangerous in ways I had no words for.
He glided towards me in his black boots. I watched him walk closer like a deer caught in headlights. I expected him to flirt or ask how I liked the painting. Instead, he said, "Tell me of Robert. The police said he was dead, but they know nothing. You have seen the body. Is he truly dead?"
His voice was thick with concern, worry. It caught me completely off guard. "They took his heart."
"If it is only a stake through the heart, he might survive if it was removed."
I shook my head. "The heart was taken out completely. We couldn't find it in the house or the yard."
Jean-Claude stopped. He slumped suddenly into one of the chairs, staring at nothing, or nothing I could see. "Then he is truly gone." His voice held sorrow the way it sometimes held laughter, so that I felt his words like a cold, grey rain.
"You treated Robert like dirt. Why all this weeping and wailing?"
He looked at me. "I am not weeping."
"But you treated him badly."
"I was his master. If I had treated him kindly, he would have seen it as a sign of weakness. He would have challenged me and I would have killed him. Do not criticize things that you do not understand." There was anger in that last sentence, enough to brush heat along my skin.
Normally, it would have pissed me off, but tonight . . . "I apologize. You're right. I don't understand. I didn't think you gave a damn about Robert unless he could further your power."
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