The Killing Dance abvh-6

by Laurell Hamilton

  Richard tried to hug me to his chest, but I moved away. I had to put both arms down to prop myself up, but I was sitting on my own.

  Jean-Claude sighed, looking down at the floor. "If we truly joined, no one could stand against us. That much power is very tempting." He looked up suddenly, letting me see his eyes. Emotions rolled across his face. Excitement, fear, lust, and finally, just weariness. "We could be bound together for all eternity. Bound together in a three-way struggle for power. It is not a pleasant thought."

  "Jean-Claude told me that he would not be my master," Richard said. "We would be partners."

  "And you believed him?" I said.

  Richard nodded, looking terribly earnest.

  I sighed. "Jesus, Richard, I can't leave you alone for a minute."

  "It is not a lie, ma petite."

  "Yeah, right."

  "If it's a lie," Richard said, "I'll kill him."

  I stared at him. "You don't mean that."

  "Yes, I do." Something moved through his brown eyes, something low and dark and inhuman.

  "Once you decide to kill someone, it becomes easier to kill others, doesn't it?" I said.

  Richard didn't flinch or look away. "Yes, it does, but that's not it. I won't be anyone's servant. Not Jean-Claude's, not yours, not Marcus's, not Raina's."

  "Do you understand that once you're bound to him, that hurting him can hurt you? Killing him can kill you?"

  "I' d rather be dead than trapped."

  I watched the absolute certainty in his eyes. He meant it. "You'll kill Marcus tonight," I said.

  Richard looked at me, and an expression passed over his face that I'd never seen before, a fierceness that filled his eyes and sent his power shivering through the room. "If he doesn't back down, I'll kill him."

  For the first time, I believed him.

  34

  There was a knock on the door. Richard and Jean-Claude spoke at the same time. "Enter." "Come in." They stared at each other as the door opened.

  Edward walked in. His cool blue eyes took in the three of us at a glance. "What happened to you?"

  "Long story," I said. "It wasn't the assassin if that's what you're worried about."

  "I wasn't. Your wolves are guarding my backup. They wouldn't let me bring him in without somebody's approval." He looked at Jean-Claude and Richard. "They weren't absolutely clear on whose permission I was supposed to get." He didn't smile while he said it, but I knew him well enough to see the shadow of humor on his face.

  "This is my home," Jean-Claude said. "It is my permission that is needed."

  I slid to the edge of the bed and found I could sit up. The movement put me between the two men. Richard hovered close to help me if I fell onto my face. Jean-Claude just sat there, not touching me, not offering to. In many ways, he understood me better than Richard did, but then he'd known me longer. I was sort of an acquired taste.

  Jean-Claude stood up. "I will go escort your guest in."

  "I better go with you," Edward said. "Harley doesn't know you, but he'll know what you are."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

  "If a strange vampire walked up to you in this place and said follow me, would you do it?"

  I thought about that. "Probably not."

  Edward smiled. "Neither would Harley."

  Edward and Jean-Claude left to fetch Edward's friend. I tried standing while they were gone, just to see if I could do it. I always like to meet new people, especially new hired muscle, on my feet.

  Richard tried to help me, and I pulled away. I had to grab for the wall to keep from falling.

  "I was trying to help," he said.

  "Don't try so hard."

  "What is the matter with you?"

  "I don't like being helpless, Richard."

  "You aren't superwoman."

  I glared at him. "I fainted, for God's sake. I never faint."

  "You didn't faint," he said. "Whatever it was threw you out of Damian. I was still tied to you when it happened, Anita. I felt it brush me." He shook his head, hugging his arms to his chest. "You didn't faint."

  I leaned my back against the wall. "It scared me, too."

  "Did it?" He came to stand in front of me. "You don't seem scared."

  "Are you scared about joining with Jean-Claude?"

  "That bothers you more than me killing for the first time tonight, doesn't it?"

  "Yeah."

  The door opened before we could continue the conversation. It was just as well. We'd found something else we disagreed on. Letting someone tie themselves to my mind, my soul, frightened me a lot more than killing someone.

  The man that followed Edward didn't look that impressive. He was slender, only a couple of inches taller than Edward. He had curly brownish red hair receding in a soft circle to nearly the middle of his head. He slouched even when he walked, and I couldn't tell if it was habit or some sort of spinal problem. Brown T-shirt over black corduroy pants, and sneakers. Everything looked like it had come from the Salvation Army. He wore a patched leather aviator's jacket that might have been original World War II issue. Under the jacket, I got a glimpse of guns.

  He was wearing a double shoulder holster so that he had a 9 millimeter under both arms. I'd seen holsters like it, but never knew anyone who actually wore one. I thought they were mostly for show. Very few people are equally good with both hands. There was a crisscross of straps beneath the T-shirt that I didn't understand, but I knew it was for carrying something lethal. He had a duffel bag in one hand, crammed full and big enough to carry a body in. He wasn't even straining. Stronger than he looked.

  I met his eyes last. They were pale and greyish green with lashes so gingery red they were almost invisible. The look in the eyes was the emptiest I'd ever seen in another human being. It was as if when he looked at me, he wasn't seeing me at all. It wasn't like he was blind. He saw something, but I wasn't sure what he saw. Not me. Not a woman. Something else. That one look was enough. I knew that this man walked in a circle of his own creation. Saw a version of reality that would send the rest of us screaming. But he functioned, and he didn't scream.

  "This is Harley," Edward said. He introduced us all, as if it was an ordinary meeting.

  I stared at Harley's pale eyes and realized that he scared me. It had been a long time since another human being frightened me just by entering a room.

  Richard offered his hand, and Harley simply looked at it. I wanted to explain to Richard why he shouldn't have made the gesture, but I wasn't sure I could.

  I did not offer to shake hands.

  "I found out the name of the money man behind the attempts on your life," Edward said. He said it without preamble.

  Three of us stared at him. Harley, disquietly, kept staring at me. "What did you say?" I asked.

  "I know who we have to kill."

  "Who?" I asked.

  "Marcus Fletcher. The head of our local werewolf pack." He smiled, pleased with himself, on the effect the news was having on Richard.

  "You're sure?" Richard said. "Absolutely sure?"

  Edward nodded, studying Richard's face. "Does he hate you enough to kill Anita?"

  "I didn't think so." Richard turned to me, the look on his face stricken, horrified. "My God, I never dreamt he'd do something like this. Why?"

  "How well would you have fought tonight with ma petitedead?" Jean-Claude asked.

  Richard stared at him so obviously overwhelmed by the dastardliness of what Marcus had done that I wanted to pat his head and tell him it was all right. I nearly get killed twice and I wanted to comfort him. Love is just plain stupid sometimes.

  "It's all so convenient," Edward said, with a happy lilt to his voice.

  "What do you mean?" Richard asked.

  "He means you are supposed to kill him tonight, Richard, so we don't have to," I said.

  "I just can't believe that Marcus would do something so . . ."

  "Evil," I suggested.

  He nodded.

 
"It would seem more Raina's sort of idea than Marcus's," Jean-Claude said.

  "It's twisted enough for her," I said.

  "Marcus could have said no," Richard said. He ran his hands through his hair, combing it back from his face. His handsome face was set in very stubborn lines. "This has got to stop. He'll do anything she asks, anything, and she's crazy."

  My eyes flicked to Harley. I couldn't help it. He caught my look and smiled. I didn't know exactly what he was thinking, but it wasn't pleasant and it wasn't pretty. Having Harley as backup made me wonder if I was on the right side.

  "Edward, can I talk to you a minute in private?" I didn't want to be this obvious, but Harley was bothering me that much.

  I walked away from the others and Edward trailed behind. It was kind of nice to walk across the room, lower my voice, and know the person I was whispering about wouldn't hear me. Both Jean-Claude and Richard would.

  Edward looked at me, and there was that same touch of amusement to him, as if he knew what I was going to say and thought it was a hoot.

  "Why does he keep looking at me?"

  "You mean Harley?"

  "You know damn well who I mean," I said.

  "He's only looking, Anita. No harm."

  "But why me?"

  "You're a girl maybe?"

  "Stop it, Edward. Whatever he's thinking, it isn't sex, and if it is, I don't want to know the details."

  Edward stared at me. "Ask him."

  "What?"

  "Ask him why he's staring at you."

  "Just like that?"

  He nodded. "Harley will probably get a kick out of it."

  "Do I want to know?" I asked.

  "I don't know. Do you?"

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're stringing me along here, Edward. What's the deal?"

  "If something happens to me during the fighting, Harley needs at least one other person that he'll mind."

  "Mind?"

  "He's absolutely reliable, Anita. He'll stay at my back, never flinch, and kill anyone I tell him to, but he's not good without specific orders. And he doesn't take orders from just everybody."

  "So you designated me?"

  Edward shook his head. "I told him to pick someone in the room."

  "Why me?"

  "Ask him."

  "Fine." I walked back towards the others, and Edward followed me. Harley watched us like he was seeing other things. It was too damned unnerving.

  "Why are you staring at me?" I asked.

  His voice was quiet, as if he never yelled. "You're the scariest motherfucker in the room."

  "Now I know you can't see."

  "I see what's there," he said.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?"

  "Nothing."

  I tried to think of a better question and finally asked, "What do you see when you look at everybody in the room?"

  "The same thing you see: monsters."

  "Why do I think the monsters I see in the room aren't the same ones you see?"

  He smiled, a bare upturning of lips. "They may look different, but they're still monsters. They're all monsters."

  He was a card-carrying, rubber-room-renting psychotic. By the time most people got to the point where they weren't seeing reality, they were so far gone that there was no going back. Sometimes drug therapy helped, but without it, the world was a frightening, overwhelming place. Harley didn't look frightened or overwhelmed. He looked calm.

  "When you look at Edward, he always looks the same to you. I mean you recognize him?"

  Harley nodded.

  "You'd recognize me," I said.

  "If I make an effort to memorize you, yes."

  "That's why you were staring."

  "Yes," he said.

  "What happens if Edward and I both go down?"

  Harley smiled, but his eyes shifted to one side as if something low to the ground and rather small had run across the room. The movement was so natural that I looked. Nothing.

  "Harley," I said.

  He looked back at me, but his eyes were just a little higher up than my face should have been. "Yes," he said, his voice so quiet.

  "What happens if Edward and I are both killed?"

  Harley stared at me. His eyes shifted to my face for just a second, as if the fog had cleared. "That would be bad."

  35

  There would be no backing down for Marcus tonight. He had to die, one way or another. Richard wasn't arguing anymore. But there was still the chance that Raina would lead a revolt of the other lukoi. Their loyalty was divided enough for a war, even with Marcus dead. Jean-Claude came up with a solution. We'd put on a better show. A better show than Raina and Marcus? He had to be kidding. Richard agreed to let Jean-Claude costume him up for the night. As his lupa, that meant I had to get dressed up, too.

  Jean-Claude took Richard off to dress him. He sent Cassandra with a white cardboard clothes box to me. She was supposed to help me change, she said.

  I opened the box and all that was in it was a pile of black leather straps. I kid you not. I drew it out of the box and it didn't improve. "I don't know how to get into this, even if I was willing to."

  "I'll get Stephen," Cassandra said.

  "I don't want to undress in front of Stephen."

  "He's a stripper," she said. "He dressed me last night at Danse Macabre, remember." She patted my hand. "He'll be a perfect gentleman."

  I sat down on the bed and scowled at the door. I was not wearing this crap.

  An hour later, Stephen and Cassandra were turning me in front of the bathroom mirrors so I could see myself. It had been embarrassing at first having a man help squeeze me into the thing, but Cassandra was right. Stephen was not only a perfect gentleman, he simply didn't seem to be moved at all by the fact that I was mostly naked. It was like having two girlfriends help me. One just happened not to be a girl.

  The top was mostly a leather bra with lining for comfort. It was one of those that lifted and showed your cleavage to absolute best advantage. But it was tight and held in place. Nothing was falling out. My cross was visible, though. I taped it. I'd peel the tape when I left the Circus. Werewolves on the menu tonight, not vamps.

  The bottom was sort of leather shorts, except that where the shorts stopped, straps took over. I wouldn't be caught dead or alive in something like this, not even to make a good show of things for Richard, except that there were extras.

  Two leather sheaths covered my upper arms, complete with a knife apiece. The knives were high quality, high silver content. If the hilts were a little elaborate for my taste, the balance was good, and that's what counted. Two more sheaths covered my lower arms with two more knives, smaller, balanced more for throwing, though they both had hilts and weren't true throwing knives. The bulge under Harley's T-shirt had been throwing knives, the real McCoy, slender and innocent looking until you saw them used.

  There was a leather belt around the top of the shorts that my Browning's shoulder holster fit on nicely. Edward had bought me a new Browning. It wasn't my very own gun, but it was still nice to have. Harley had fished a clip-on holster for the Firestar out of his duffel. The small clip-on rode to one side of my waist for a cross draw.

  The straps down my legs had small silver loops, sheaths, two more knives, one on each thigh. No knife sheaths below the knees because boots came with the outfit. Jean-Claude had finally gotten me out of my Nikes. The boots were soft black suede with heels only a touch higher than I would have liked. A tiny stoppered vial fit in small loops just below the top of each boot. I held one up to the light, and knew what it was. Holy water. A nice gift from my vampire boyfriend, heh?

  I stared at myself in the mirror. "How long has Jean-Claude been planning this outfit?"

  "A little while," Stephen said. He was kneeling by me, tugging the straps into place. "We all had a running bet that he'd never get you to wear it."

  "Who's we?"

  "His flunkies." Stephen stood up, stepped back, and nodded. "You look amazing.
"

  "I look like a biker slut from hell meets soldier of fortune pinup."

  "That, too," Stephen said.

  I turned to Cassandra. "Be honest."

  "You look dangerous, Anita. Like somebody's weapon."

  I stared in the mirror, shaking my head. "Somebody's sex toy, you mean."

  "A dominatrix maybe, but nobody's toy," Cassandra said.

  Why didn't that make me feel better?

  Cassandra had insisted on helping me with my makeup. She was a great deal more skilled at it than I. Years of practice, she'd said. My hair was tight and curling, falling just below my shoulders now. It needed a cut. But for tonight, the hair was perfect. The face was still pretty. Makeup is a wonderful thing. But the outfit stripped away the pretense. I looked like what I was: something that would kill you before it would kiss you.

  We walked out of the bathroom and found Edward and Harley waiting for us. They had brought two straight-backed chairs to sit on the white carpet, facing the bathroom door. I froze as Edward stared at me. He didn't say a word, just sat there with a sort of half-smile on his face.

  "Well, say something, dammit."

  "I would say it isn't you, but in a way, it is."

  I took a deep breath. "Yeah."

  Harley stared at me with vacant eyes. He was smiling, but not at the outfit. Smiling at some internal music or vision that only he could perceive.

  There was a long leather coat on the bed. "One of the vampires dropped it off," Edward said. "Thought you might want something to cover up with until the big unveiling."

  "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

  "I'd feel better if I could guard your back."

  "You're going to do that with a rifle from the closest hill, remember."

  "Night vision and scope, fine, but I can't kill them all from a distance."

  "You couldn't kill them all if you were johnny on the spot, either," I said.

  "No, but I'd feel better."

  "Worried about me?"

  He shrugged. "I'm your bodyguard. If you die under my protection, the other bodyguards will make fun of me."

  It took me a second to realize he was making a joke. Harley looked back at him with an almost surprised look. I don't think either of us heard humor from Edward much.