The Harlequin ab-15

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  "Anita, Anita, are you there?"

  "Yeah, yeah, Peter, I'm here."

  "You sound strange, like, scared almost."

  Peter was too damned perceptive for comfort sometimes. "I just…" Oh, hell, what could I say that would fix this? "Let Edward sleep in, don't wake them."

  "Something's wrong, I can hear it in your voice. You called because you're in trouble. That's it, isn't it?" he asked.

  "I'm not in trouble," I said. In my head, I added, yet.

  Silence on his end of the phone for a heartbeat. "You're lying to me." He sounded accusatory.

  "Well, that's a hell of a thing to say," I said, with as much indignation as I could muster. I wasn't lying, not really, I was just fudging the truth. Okay, fudging like double chocolate with three kinds of nuts, but it still wasn't completely a lie.

  "Your word, your word of honor," he said in a very serious voice. "Tell me you didn't call to get Edward's help with some nasty monster problem."

  Shit. "You know you're being a pain in the ass here," I said.

  "I'm sixteen. I'm supposed to be a pain in the ass, or that's what Mom says. Give me your word that you're not lying to me, and I'll believe you. Give me your word, and I'll believe everything you've said, and I'll hang up, and you can go back to not being in trouble."

  "Damn it, Peter."

  "You won't give your word and then lie, will you?" His voice held question, and almost wonderment, as if he didn't quite believe it.

  "No, not as a general rule, no."

  "Edward said you wouldn't, but I wasn't sure I believed him. But you really won't, will you?"

  "No," I said. "Happy now?"

  "Yes," he said, though his voice didn't sound exactly happy. "Tell me what's wrong. Why do you need Edward's help?"

  "I need to talk to Edward, but I won't tell you why, or what it's about."

  "I'm not a baby, Anita."

  "I know that."

  "No, you don't," he said.

  I sighed. "I don't think you're a baby, but you are a kid, Peter. You're grown-up for sixteen, but I'd like to keep some of the darker shit away from you until you reach at least eighteen. If Edward wants to share with you later, that's his lookout."

  "You might as well tell me, Anita. If I ask, he'll tell me."

  I hoped he was wrong, but was afraid he was right. "If Edward wants you to know, he'll tell you, Peter. But I am not going to tell you, and that's final."

  "Is it that bad?" he asked, and I heard the first thread of worry.

  Shit, again. I just couldn't win conversations with Peter. I'd only had a handful of them lately, but he always seemed to talk me into a box. "Get Edward on the phone, Peter, now."

  "I can handle myself in a fight, Anita. I can help."

  Shit, shit, and double shit. I was not going to win this conversation. "I'm hanging up now, Peter."

  "No, Anita, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." And his voice went from that cynical grown-up to an almost childlike panic. The panic had worked better before his voice deepened. "Don't hang up, please, I'll get Ted." The phone hit wood so hard, I had to put the phone away from my ear. He came back on, saying, "Sorry, dropped the phone. I'm getting dressed. I'll go knock on their door. If it's bad enough for you to call Edward, then you need to talk to him. I'll stop being a kid and just get him for you." He was a little angry with me, but mostly frustrated. He wanted to help. He wanted to grow up. He wanted to fight for real, whatever the hell that meant. What was Edward teaching him? Did I really want to know? No. Would I ask? Yes, unfortunately, yes. God, I did not need another problem on my plate right now. I thought about trying to lie to Edward, say I'd just called up to chat about the latest issue of Mercenaries Quarterly, but if I wasn't up to lying to Peter, Edward was absolutely out of my weight class.

  Chapter Ten

  I SAT ON the edge of the bathtub, waiting for Edward to come to the phone. I'd insisted on privacy for the phone call, though I'd told Jean-Claude and Micah who I was trying to call. Jean-Claude had said only, "Help would not be unwelcome." The comment said, clearly, that he was worried. The more worried I realized he was, the more worried I got.

  I heard noise over the phone, movement. The phone was picked up, and I heard Edward's voice say, "Hang up the other extension, Peter." A second later he spoke directly into the phone. "Anita, Peter said you needed help, my kind of help." His voice was that empty-middle-of-nowhere accent. It was his normal voice; when he was playing Ted Forrester, good ol' boy, he had a drawl.

  "I didn't say I needed help," I said.

  "Then why did you call?"

  "Can't I just call to chat?"

  He laughed, and the laugh was strangely familiar. I realized it was an echo of Peter's laugh earlier, or maybe Peter's laugh was an echo of Edward's. They weren't genetically related, I knew that, so what was with the laugh? Imitation, maybe.

  "You would never call me just to chat, Anita. That's not what we do for each other." He laughed again, and murmured, "Called to chat," as if the idea were too ridiculous for words.

  "I do not need you to be condescending, thanks anyway." I was angry and had no right to be. I'd called him, and it was me I was angry at. I was wishing I hadn't called—for so many reasons.

  "What's wrong?" he asked, not taking offense. He knew me too well to let a little angry outburst bother him.

  I opened my mouth, closed it, then said, "I'm trying to decide where to start."

  "Start with the dangerous part." There, that was Edward, not start at the beginning, but start with the dangerous part.

  "I did call for backup, but I have other backup already. It's not you, but it's not a bunch of amateurs either." I was being honest. The wererats were almost completely ex-military, ex-police, or ex-criminals. Some of the werehyenas were the same flavor of professional. I had help. I shouldn't have called Edward.

  "You sound like you're trying to talk yourself out of asking me for help," he said, and his voice was curious, not worried, just curious.

  "I am."

  "Why?"

  "Because Peter answered the phone."

  There was a sharp intake of breath. "Hang up the phone, Peter," Edward said.

  "If Anita's in trouble, I want to know about it."

  "Hang up the phone," he said, "and don't make me ask again."

  "But…"

  "Now."

  I heard the phone click.

  "Well," I said.

  "Wait," he said.

  I sat on my side of the phone in silence, wondering what we were waiting for. Finally Edward said, "He's off."

  "Does he listen in on phone conversations a lot?"

  "No."

  "How do you know he doesn't?"

  "I know…" He stopped himself, and said, "I don't think he does. I think you're a special case for Peter. He's in Donna's old room. I told him he could keep the phone if he behaved. I'll talk to him."

  "If he's in Donna's old room, where are you and she sleeping? Not that it's any of my business," I added.

  "We put a master suite on the house."

  "Have you moved in, then?"

  "Pretty much."

  "You sell your house?" I asked.

  "No."

  "I guess Batman can't sell the bat cave."

  "Something like that." But his voice, which had started a little friendly, was not friendly now. It was empty, the old pre-Donna Edward talking to me. He might be talking about domestic bliss and raising teenagers, but he was still the coldest killer I'd ever met, and that person was still in there. I wasn't sure whether I couldn't bear the thought of him watching Becca at ballet class, or would have paid to see him sitting with all the other parents waiting for their leotard-clad darlings.

  "If I lied well enough I'd just make something up and hang up."

  "Why?" he asked, in that empty voice.

  "Because Peter answering the phone made me realize that it's not all fun and games anymore. If I get you killed, then they lose another father. I don't want to have to explain that to
Peter, or Donna, or Becca."

  "But especially Peter," he said.

  "Yeah," I said.

  "Since you can't lie to me, just tell me, Anita." His voice was a little softer now, a little feeling to it. Edward liked me; we were friends. He'd miss me if I were gone, and I'd miss him, but there was still a little question on whether one day we'd find ourselves on the opposite sides of a problem, and have to finally see which of us was the better man. I was hoping that day would never come, because there was no way for me to win the fight now; dead or alive, we'd both lose.

  "Do you know what the Harlequin are?" I asked.

  "French clowns?" he said, and let himself sound puzzled.

  "Do you know them in any other context?"

  "Twenty questions isn't like you, Anita; just talk."

  "I just wanted to see if I was the only vampire hunter extraordinaire who was totally in the dark about this. It makes me feel a little better that you don't know about them either. Apparently Jean-Claude is right; they really are a big, dark secret."

  "Talk," he said.

  I talked. I told him what little I knew about the Harlequin and his band. It really wasn't that much.

  He was quiet so long that I said, "Edward, I can hear you breathing, but…"

  "I'm here, Anita. Just thinking."

  "Thinking what?" I asked.

  "That you always let me play with the best toys." And his voice wasn't empty now, it was eager.

  "And what if these toys finally manage to be bigger and badder than you and me?"

  "Then we die."

  "Just like that," I said. "You wouldn't have regrets?"

  "You mean Donna and the kids?"

  "Yes," I said, and I stood, starting to pace the bathroom.

  "I would regret leaving them."

  "Then don't come," I said.

  "And if you get killed, I'd always believe that I could have saved you. No, Anita, I'll come, but I will bring backup."

  "Not anyone too crazy, okay?"

  He laughed, that chuckle of true delight that I'd heard maybe six times in the entire seven years I'd known him. "I can't promise that, Anita."

  "Fine, but Edward, I'm serious. I don't want to get you killed on them."

  "I can't stop being who I am just because I love Donna, Anita. I can't stop being what I am because I've got the kids to think about."

  "Why not?" I asked, and I was thinking of a conversation Richard and I had had when we thought I was pregnant. He'd expected that if I were pregnant I'd stop being a federal marshal or vampire hunter. I hadn't agreed.

  "Because it wouldn't be me, and they love me. Donna and Becca may not know everything that Peter does about me, but they know enough. They know what I had to do to save the kids when Riker took them."

  Riker had been a very bad man. He had been doing illegal archaeology digs, and Donna's amateur protection group had gotten in their way. It actually hadn't been Edward or me that first got the kids on Riker's radar. Nice to know we weren't completely to blame for what happened. Riker had wanted me to do a certain spell for him, which truthfully I hadn't been necromancer enough to do, but he wouldn't believe me. He tortured the children to get my, and Edward's, cooperation. Six-year-old, now eight-year-old, Becca had gotten a badly broken hand. Peter had been sexually molested by a female guard. We'd had to watch on videotape. We'd killed Riker and all his people. We rescued the kids, and Edward had made me give Peter my backup gun. Edward decided in that moment that if we lost, he preferred Peter to be killed resisting, rather than taken again. I hadn't argued, not after what they'd done to him. I had watched Peter empty my gun into the body of the woman who'd hurt him. He'd kept dry-firing into her body until I wrestled the gun away from him. I still saw his eyes when he told me, "I wanted her to hurt."

  I knew that Peter had lost some of his innocence the night his father died and he had to pick up a gun to protect his family. He'd taken a life, but I think he thought it was killing a monster, and that didn't really count. Hell, once I'd thought the same thing about monsters. Killing the woman who had hurt him had taken more from him, a bigger piece of his soul. I couldn't even imagine how big a piece the sexual abuse stole away. Had it been better for him to have his revenge so quickly? Or had it cost him more?

  I'd told him the only truth I had that night: "You killed her, Peter. That's as good as revenge gets. Once you kill them, there isn't any more." Revenge was always the easy part; the hard part was living with it afterward. Living with what you'd done. Living with what they'd done to you, or those you loved.

  "Anita, are you there? Anita, answer me."

  "Sorry, Edward, I didn't hear a damn thing you said."

  "You're a thousand miles away inside your own thoughts. That's not a good place to be in the middle of a firefight."

  "It hasn't come to a firefight yet," I said.

  "You know what I mean, Anita. I have to round up my backup and arrange transport. That'll take a day or so. I'll be there as soon as I can, but you need to watch your back until I get there."

  "I'll do my best not to get killed before you get here."

  "This isn't funny, Anita. You seem seriously distracted."

  I thought about it for a moment, then realized what was wrong. I was happy for the first time in my life. I loved the men I was living with. I, like Edward, had a family to protect, and mine wouldn't be tucked safely in New Mexico while we cleaned this up. "I just realized that I've got my own family here, and I don't like them being on the firing line. I don't like that a lot."

  "Who are you worried about?" he asked.

  "Nathaniel, Micah, Jean-Claude, all of them."

  "I'm looking forward to meeting your new lovers."

  It took me a minute to realize. "You've never met Micah and Nathaniel. I'd forgotten that."

  "Jean-Claude can handle himself, Anita, as well as anyone in this situation. It sounds like the shapeshifters have you covered for now. Micah is head of the local wereleopards. He didn't get the job on his winning personality. He's a survivor and a fighter, or he'd be dead already."

  "Is this supposed to be a pep talk?" I asked.

  He gave a sound that was almost a laugh. "Yeah."

  "Well, you suck at it."

  He laughed then. "Which of your lovers is cannon fodder, Anita? Who are you really the most worried about?"

  I took a deep breath, let it out slow, and said, "Nathaniel."

  "Why him?"

  "Because he's not a fighter. I've taken him to the gun range and he knows the basics." Then I remembered a moment when Chimera, a very bad guy, had come to town. I remembered an ambush, when Nathaniel had been with me. I'd forgotten. He'd killed someone, and I'd forgotten. I hadn't even thought how it might have affected him. Some leopard queen I was. Fuck.

  "Anita, you still there?"

  "Yeah, I just remembered something that I guess I was trying to forget. Nathaniel shot someone, killed him to save me. One of the wererats had gotten killed, and he picked up the guy's gun and used it just like I'd taught him." I was suddenly cold down to my toes. All the awful things that people had made Nathaniel do over the years while he was on the street, and it had been me that forced him to kill. He'd done it out of love, but motive didn't change the end product. Someone was still dead.

  "He'll do, Anita." There was a tone to Edward's voice, approval maybe.

  "You know, I hadn't thought about what he'd done until just now. What kind of person forgets that?"

  "Did he seem messed up about it?"

  "No."

  "Then let it go," Edward said.

  "Just like that," I said.

  "Just like that."

  "I'm not good at letting go."

  "No, you're not."

  "How much does Peter know about your real life as assassin to the undead and furry?"

  "That's my call, Anita, not yours." His voice wasn't friendly now.

  "I'd love to argue, but you're right. I haven't laid eyes on Peter since he was fourteen."


  "He turned fifteen that year."

  "Oh, so not two years since I saw him but more like a year and a half. That gives me so much more room to bitch at you for introducing him to the scary stuff."

  "I'm just saying that he wasn't a kid when we met him. He was a young man, and I've treated him like one."

  "No wonder he adores you," I said.

  It was Edward's turn to be quiet.

  "I can hear you breathing," I said.

  "You know how I said we don't chat?"

  "Yeah."

  "I finally realized, just now, you're the only person I can talk about this with."

  "What, Peter?"

  "No."

  In my head I went through the list of things that Edward could only talk to me about; nothing came to mind. "I'm all ears."

  "Donna is pushing for kids."

  That stopped me. It was my turn to be at a loss for words. I managed to stumble out some words, the wrong words. "Really? I mean, I guess I thought she was too old to start over."

  "She's only forty-two, Anita."

  "I'm sorry, Edward. I didn't mean it that way, I just never saw you with a baby."

  "Ditto," he said, and he sounded angry now, too.

  Worse yet, I felt my throat closing tight, my eyes burning. What the fuck was wrong with me? "Do you ever wish you had a life where you could see babies and shit like that?" I asked, and fought to keep the sudden rise of emotion under check.

  "No," he said.

  "Never?" I asked.

  "You thinking about a baby?" he asked.

  Then I told him something I had never expected to tell Edward. "I had a serious pregnancy scare last month. False positive and everything. Let's just say it made me reassess some parts of my life."

  "The biggest difference between us, Anita, is that if I have a baby with Donna, she carries it, not me. You would have a lot more trouble doing it."

  "I know, the whole girl thing."

  "Are you seriously thinking about babies?"

  "No, I was relieved as hell when I found out I wasn't pregnant."

  "How'd your lovers take it?"