The Killing Dance abvh-6

by Laurell Hamilton

  I could see the archway at the top of the hall, but the zombies filled the space, hiding the rest from view. "Move forward," I said. The zombies moved like a single organism, their dead eyes watching my face as if I were all that mattered. To them, I was.

  The zombies moved like a shambling curtain. I could see the smaller hallway now, and the figures waiting inside. "Stop," I said. The zombies stopped as if I'd hit a switch.

  Liv, the blond bouncer from Danse Macabre, stood just inside the smaller hallway. She was still dressed in her violet body suit. Her extraordinary violet eyes stared at me, empty, waiting. My pulse thudded in my throat. There were other figures behind her.

  Richard said softly, "This isn't possible."

  I didn't argue with him. It would have been too hard.

  "Bring them out, ma petite, let us see who you have called from their coffins." His voice was warm with the beginnings of anger.

  "What's eating you?"

  He laughed, but it was bitter. "I threatened my people with this, but you said nothing. You did not tell me you could truly raise vampires like any other zombie."

  "I've only done it once before."

  "Indeed," he said.

  "Don't get all pissy on me."

  "I shall get pissy if I want to," he said. "These are my people, my companions, and you have them walking around like puppets. I find that most disquieting."

  "So do I," I said. I looked back at the vampires. Liv, who had been so animated last night, stood there like a well-preserved zombie. No. No, I'd never have mistaken her for a zombie. I could feel a difference. But there she stood, that muscular body waiting for my next order. There were others behind her. I couldn't see how many. Too many.

  "Can you put my vampires back, ma petite?"

  I continued to look at Liv, avoiding Jean-Claude's eyes. "I don't know."

  He touched my chin, turning me to face him. He studied my face, eyes searching, as if some hint of truth might show through. I let anger fill my face, anger was always a great thing to hide behind.

  "What did you do with the last vampire you raised, ma petite?"

  I pulled away from him. He grabbed my arm unbelievably fast. Too fast to see. What happened next was simply automatic. He held my right upper arm, but I could still bend at the elbow and point the Firestar at him. The Uzi in my left hand pointed at him, too. He could have crushed my arm before I fired one gun, but not both. But for the first time, staring down the barrel of a gun at him was problematic. The sash of his robe had come loose and I could see a triangle of pale flesh. I could see where his heart would be. I could blow his heart out his back and sever his spine. And I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to splatter that beautiful body all over the wall. Damn.

  Richard came closer. He didn't touch either of us. He just stared from one to the other. "Is he hurting you, Anita?"

  "No," I said.

  "Then should you be pointing a gun at him?"

  "He shouldn't be touching me," I said.

  Richard's voice was very mild. "He just finished touching you a lot more than this, Anita."

  "Why are you helping him?"

  "He helped me. Besides, if you kill him over something small and stupid, you'll never forgive yourself."

  I took a deep breath and let it out. Some of the tension eased with the breath. I lowered the Uzi.

  Jean-Claude released my arm.

  I pointed the Firestar at the floor and looked at Richard. There was something in his eyes, even the wolf's amber eyes, that was all too human. Pain. He knew how much Jean-Claude meant to me. It was there in his eyes. That one comment said that he understood my relationship with the vampire, maybe better than I did.

  I wanted to apologize to him, but I wasn't sure he'd understand what it was for. I wasn't even sure I could explain it. If you love someone, truly love them, you should never cause them pain. Never fill their eyes with something so close to grief.

  "I'm sorry I got mad at you earlier. You want what's best for the pack, I know that."

  "You still think I'm a fool to want a bloodless coup," he said.

  I stood on tiptoe and kissed him gently. "Not a fool, just naive, terribly naive."

  "Very touching, ma petite. And I do appreciate your interference on my behalf, Richard, but these are my people. I promised them certain freedoms when they joined me. I ask again. Can you put them back as they were?"

  I turned to Jean-Claude, one hand still balancing against Richard's chest. "I don't know."

  "Then you had better find out, ma petite."

  It sounded too much like a threat for my taste, but . . . there was a figure behind Liv the bouncer that I couldn't take my eyes off of. I walked towards the waiting vampires. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My stomach clenched into a hard lump, my chest was tight. I finally said it: "Willie McCoy, come to me."

  Willie walked out from behind the tall blond vampire. He was wearing the same chartreuse suit he'd had on at Danse Macabre. His brown eyes seemed to see me, but they were empty of that spark that was Willie. He wasn't home. It was like watching a puppet moving, and I was the puppet master. I tasted something bitter at the back of my throat. My eyes were hot and tight. I wasn't sure if I was going to throw up or cry first.

  I stopped him about two feet from me. Close enough that I couldn't pretend or wish it away. I swallowed hard, and tears hot enough to scald ran down my face. "I didn't want to know this," I whispered.

  Jean-Claude came to stand beside me. "Willie," he said, his voice vibrated through the room. Willie's body thrummed to the sound like a tuning fork struck. "Willie, look at me."

  The blank, familiar face turned slowly towards his master. Something flickered through the eyes for a moment; something moved that I had no name for.

  "This has possibilities," Jean-Claude said.

  "Willie," I said, "look at me." My voice wasn't nearly as impressive as the vampire's, but Willie turned to me.

  "No," Jean-Claude said, "look at me, Willie."

  Willie hesitated.

  "Willie," I said, "come to me." I held out a hand and he took a step towards me.

  Jean-Claude said, "Stop, Willie, do not go to her."

  Willie hesitated, almost turning to Jean-Claude.

  I concentrated on that curl of power inside of me, that thing that allowed me to raise the dead and let it wash over me, flow out of me. I called Willie's body to me and nothing Jean-Claude could do would get him to turn away from me.

  Richard said, "Stop it, both of you. He isn't a doll."

  "He isn't alive, either," I said.

  "He deserves better than this," Richard said.

  I agreed. I turned to Jean-Claude. "He's mine, Jean-Claude. They're all mine. When night falls, they will be yours again, but their empty shells are mine." I stepped close to him, and that swirl of power lashed out.

  He took a hissing breath and backed up. Holding his hand as if I'd struck him.

  "Never forget what I am and what I can do. No more threats between us, ever, or it will be the last threat."

  He stared at me, and for just a second, there was a flash of something I hadn't seen before: fear. Fear of me for the first time. Good.

  Willie stared at me with empty, waiting eyes. He was dead, well and truly dead. Tears flowed down my face, tight and hard. Poor Willie, poor me. He wasn't human. All these months of being his friend and he was dead. Just dead. Damn.

  "What happened to the first vampire you raised, ma petite? Why didn't you put it back into its coffin?" A thought slid behind his eyes. I watched the idea form, and fall from his lips. "How did Monsieur Bouvier get the lower half of his body melted away?"

  Magnus Bouvier had been Serephina's mortal servant. It had been his job to keep me near Serephina's coffin until she rose to finish me off. I scrubbed at my face, trying to get rid of the tears. Always ruins the effect when you cry. "You know the answer," I said. My voice sounded strained and small.

  "Say it aloud, ma petite, let me hear it from y
our own lips."

  "I feel like I'm missing part of this conversation," Richard said, "What are you two talking about?"

  "Tell him, ma petite."

  "The vampire grabbed Magnus around the waist and held on. I'd planned on it slowing him down, nothing else. I got to the door and ran outside. The sunlight hit the vampire and it burst into flames. I expected Magnus to go back inside, but he didn't. He kept coming, dragging her into the light." Saying it fast didn't make it any better.

  I stood in the middle of the dead I had called, hugging myself. I still had dreams about Serephina. Still saw Magnus reaching out to me, begging me to save him. I could have shot him and never lost a moment's sleep, but burning him alive was torture. I didn't do torture. Not to mention that Ellie Quinlan had already risen as a vampire, which made her legally alive. I'd killed them both, and it hadn't been pretty.

  Richard was looking at me, a look of something close to horror on his face. "You burned the man and the vampire alive?" I watched the brown in his eyes swim back to the surface. The entire shape of the eye changed while I watched. It looked almost like it should hurt. If it did hurt, he never showed it.

  "I didn't plan it, Richard. I didn't want it to happen, but I would have done anything to escape Serephina. Anything."

  "I don't understand that."

  "I know," I said.

  "There is no shame in surviving, ma petite." I turned to Jean-Claude. There was no shock on his face. It was lovely and unreadable as a doll's.

  "Then why can't I read your face right now?"

  Life flowed back into his face, filled his eyes, moved behind his skin until he was there, staring at me. The look in his eyes wasn't what I expected. Fear was still there and surprise, but underneath was worry.

  "Better?" he asked.

  "Yes." I frowned. "What's worrying you?"

  He sighed. "All honesty is eventually punished, but not usually this quickly."

  "Answer me, Jean-Claude."

  His eyes went past me to the werewolves waiting at Richard's back. "No one must speak of what has happened here, not to anyone."

  "Why not?" Richard asked.

  "It would embarrass ma petite."

  "That's true," I said, "but that's not what you mean. You don't mind embarrassing me. Hell, this story would make a great threat for all your vampires. It'd scare the hell out of them."

  "That, ma petite, is the point."

  I sighed. "Stop being obtuse and just tell us."

  "I do not want this," he waved at the vampires, "coming to the attention of the vampire council."

  "Why not?" Richard and I asked together.

  "Put simply, ma petite, they will kill you."

  "I'm your registered human servant," I said, "you said you did that to keep me safe."

  "For this they will come and see for themselves, ma petite. Whoever they send will know instantly that you do not bear my marks. You are my servant in name only. That will not be enough for them. Without any binding between us, they will not trust you."

  "So they'll kill her, just like that?" Richard asked. He moved closer to me as if he'd touch me, but his hands hesitated above my shoulders.

  Without looking at him, I said, "One story about burning people alive and you don't want to touch me. You prejudiced little werewolf, you." I tried to keep my voice light but a harsh edge crept in.

  His hands gripped my shoulders tightly. "It really bothers you, what you did, doesn't it?"

  I turned to see his face, his hands still on my shoulders. "Of course it bothers me. I didn't just kill Magnus, I tortured him to death. Ellie Quinlan didn't deserve to be burned alive." I shook my head and tried to step away from him. He slid his arms across my back, holding me gently against him.

  "I'm sorry you had to do it." He touched my hair with one hand, the other still against my back. "Your eyes are haunted by it, by what you did. Don't take this wrong, but it makes me feel better to see that pain in your eyes."

  I pushed away from him. "Did you think I could kill someone by torture and feel nothing?"

  He met my eyes but it seemed like it was an effort. "I wasn't sure."

  I shook my head.

  Jean-Claude took my left hand; the other was still holding the Firestar. He turned me to face him. He raised my hand towards his lips as he bowed slowly towards me. He spoke as he moved, "There is nothing that you could ever do that would make me not desire the touch of your body." He kissed my hand. His lips lingered a little longer than was polite. His tongue licked across my skin, and I pulled away.

  "It scares you that I can raise vampires like this."

  "Perhaps, ma petite, but I have frightened you for years and yet you are still here."

  He had a point. I stared at Willie. "Let's see if we can put everyone back where they belong." I hoped I could do it. I wanted Willie back, even if it was only a lie. He walked, he talked, it was still Willie. Or maybe, I just wanted it to be Willie. Maybe I needed it to be Willie.

  29

  "Take me to the coffin room," I said.

  "Why?" Jean-Claude asked. There was something in the way he said that one word that made me stare at him.

  "Because I asked."

  "How would my flock feel if I allowed the Executioner to enter their private chamber while they slept helpless?"

  "I'm not going to kill anybody today, not on purpose."

  "I do not like the way you said that, ma petite."

  "Uncontrolled power is unpredictable, Jean-Claude. All sorts of unpleasant things can happen. I need to see where the vampires will be resting. I want to try and put them back in a controlled manner."

  "What sorts of unpleasant things?" Richard asked.

  It was a good question. Since I was pretty much flying blind, I didn't have a good answer. "It takes less power to put back than it does to raise. If we just call it up wild and try to will them back . . ." I shook my head.

  "You could extinguish their life force," Cassandra said.

  I looked at her. "What did you say?"

  "You're going to put them back in their coffins as you would a zombie, but with a zombie you will it to be dead again, correct?"

  I hadn't really thought of it that way, but she was right.

  "If you will the vampires back in their coffins, you're in effect willing them dead again like a zombie, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "But you don't want them permanently dead."

  My head was beginning to hurt. "No, I don't want them permanently dead."

  "How do you know so very much about necromancy, Cassandra?" Jean-Claude asked.

  "I have a master's degree in magical theory."

  "That must be useful on a resume," I said.

  "Not in the least," she said, "but it might be useful now."

  "Did you know your newest pack member was so well-educated, Richard?" Jean-Claude asked.

  "Yes," he said, "it's one of the reasons I gave her permission to move here."

  "Permission to move here?" I said. "Why did she need your permission?"

  "A werewolf has to get the permission of the local pack leader before they can enter a new territory. If they don't, it's considered a challenge to his authority."

  "Did she have to ask your permission or Marcus's?"

  "Both," Cassandra said. "Most werewolves won't come near Saint Louis while this power struggle is going on."

  "Why did you come, then, my wolf?" Jean-Claude asked.

  "I liked what I heard about Richard. He's trying to bring the pack into the twentieth century."

  "Did you come planning to be his lupa?" I asked. Yes, a little twinge of jealousy had reared its ugly head.

  Cassandra smiled. "Maybe, but the job's filled. I came here to avoid fighting, not to start it."

  "You have come to the wrong place, I fear," Jean-Claude said.

  She shrugged. "If I waited until the battle was over and it was safe, I wouldn't be worth much, would I?"

  "You came to fight at Monsieur Zeeman's side?"


  "I came because I agree with what he's trying to do."

  "You don't approve of killing?" I asked.

  "Not really."

  "Why, Richard, you have found a kindred spirit," Jean-Claude said, smiling, and far too pleased.

  "Cassandra believes in the sanctity of life; a lot of people do," Richard said. He wouldn't look at me.

  "If she's a better match for you than I am, I won't stand in your way."

  He turned to me, a look of astonishment on his face. "Anita . . ." He shook his head. "I'm in love with you."

  "You'd get over it," I said. My chest was tight with the offer, but I meant it. Richard and I had a basic fundamental difference of opinion. It wasn't going away. One of us was going to have to compromise, and it wasn't going to be me. I couldn't quite meet Richard's eyes, but I didn't take it back.

  He stepped in front of me, and all I could see was his bare chest. There was a scratch just below his left nipple, blood drying on his skin in darkening strings. He touched my chin, raising my face until I met his eyes. He studied my face like he'd never seen it before.

  "I would never get over losing you, Anita. Never."

  "Never's a long time to tie yourself to a killer."

  "You don't have to be a killer," he said.

  I stepped away from him. "If you're hanging around me waiting for me to soften up and become this good little girl, you might as well leave now."

  He grabbed my arms, pulling me against his body. "I want you, Anita, all of you." He kissed me, arms locked behind my back, raising me up against him.

  I slid my hands behind his back, Firestar still in one hand. I pressed my body against his hard enough to know he was happy to see me.

  We came up for air, and I pulled back, but not out of his arms, half-laughing. I caught a glimpse of Jean-Claude standing to one side. The look on his face wiped the smile from my lips. It wasn't jealousy. It was hunger. Desire. Watching us together had excited him.

  I drew back from Richard and found blood on my hands. It was hard to tell on the navy blue shirt but there were wet spots where I'd pressed myself against the bloody scratches. Some of the wounds were deep enough that they were still seeping blood.