Anita Blake 8 - Blue Moon

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  He was also at least six foot two, maybe an inch taller, with shoulders to match. He leaned against the wall, exuding a sort of easy physical energy like someone who knew his potential and didn't sweat proving it.

  "That's Ben. He's your replacement Sköll until Jamil is healed."

  I wanted to turn down the offer of putting my life in a stranger's hands, but was almost sure it would be considered an insult. I nodded. "Hi."

  He nodded back. "Hello."

  Roxanne turned in the chair, sliding her legs so she was sitting sideways in the chair. "Verne meant our wolf to be an apology for allowing your people to be injured on our lands." She looked full at me and those brown eyes were not friendly. "I think it is you who owes us an apology."

  "Apology for what?" I asked.

  She stood, and that energy spilled through the room like water, swirling around the ankles, rising to the knees. Her power spilled outward, upward, as if she would fill the room with the breathing warmth of her presence.

  She was so powerful, it made my throat tight just standing this close to her. "Shit," I whispered.

  "You marked Verne as if he were the least of us and not the greatest."

  "You mean the neck thing," I said.

  She slammed the chair back into the floor. It fell with a loud crash.

  I didn't go for a gun, but it was an effort.

  Roxanne stood there breathing far too fast and far too shallow. Strong emotion makes the energy spill worse, and her anger made the power bite and dance over my skin in a tight, electric dance.

  Cherry moved up a little behind me. Zane appeared in the doorway and flanked her. They stood to either side and a little back like bodyguards. They'd do their best, but I didn't want to test them against Roland and Ben. I was pretty sure who would win, and it wouldn't be us.

  "I am sorry that I marked Verne," I said.

  "Lies," Roxanne said.

  "I truly didn't mean to do it."

  She took a trembling step forward. I didn't step back, but maybe I should have. She was too damn close. At this range, I might get the Browning out, but if I did, I'd have to use it, because she'd be on top of me in seconds.

  "Can someone please explain why she's so pissed, and what we can do about it that won't end with one of us dead?"

  Marianne stood slowly. Roxanne's head pivoted, and the intensity in that gaze, even turned to another, made my skin jump. Marianne held her hands palm out and advanced slowly around the table towards her lupa.

  "Roxanne sees the marking as an insult to Verne and the entire pack," Marianne said.

  "I got that," I said. "I didn't mean it to be insulting. I didn't mean to do it at all."

  Roxanne's head turned slowly until she was staring at me. Her eyes bled from brown to a rich, startling yellow while I watched.

  I put my hand on the butt of the Browning. "Ease down, wolf-girl."

  A low, rumbling growl crawled out of that slender throat.

  Marianne said, "If you truly didn't mean to be insulting, then would you be willing to make amends?"

  I kept my gaze on Roxanne but answered, "How would I make amends?"

  "We could fight," Roxanne said.

  I looked into her nearly glowing yellow eyes. "I don't think so."

  Marianne was standing sort of between us without actually standing between us. "You could offer your neck to Roxanne in a public ceremony."

  My eyes slid to Marianne, then back to the werewolf. "I am not letting her near my neck in public or private, not on purpose."

  "You don't trust me," Roxanne said.

  "Nope."

  She took another painfully slow step forward. Marianne did step between us then. If Roxanne moved forward another inch, her shoulder would bump Marianne.

  "There is another ceremony," Marianne said.

  "I am not offering Roxanne my neck," I said.

  "No neck offering, but you do exchange blows."

  I felt my eyes widen. I stared at the nearly snarling woman across from me. "You must be joking. She'd kill me."

  "I'll let you hit me first," Roxanne said.

  "I've read this story. No thanks."

  Roxanne frowned. "Story?"

  "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight," I said. She still looked puzzled. "The Green Knight lets Sir Gawain have the first blow. Gawain cuts off his head. The Green Knight picks up his head under one arm and says, 'My turn, a year from now!' "

  "Haven't read it," she said.

  "It's not top twenty reading list, I guess. Anyway, the point is the same. I can hit you as hard as I can, and it won't hurt you. You can flick your fingers in my direction and break my neck."

  "Then we fight," she said.

  My hand was still resting on the Browning. "I'll kill you, Roxanne, but I won't fight you."

  "Coward!"

  "You bet," I said.

  I felt Richard brush over me, through me, like wind. He'd recognized Roxanne's car and was letting me know he was about to bring a human into the mess. A human who didn't know who the monsters were.

  I looked away to see his shape outside the kitchen door, and I shouldn't have. I didn't so much see Roxanne's fist as sense the movement. My hand was already on the Browning, only seconds to pull it, but that blur of movement caught me in the chin. I had the sensation of falling, but I didn't remember hitting the floor or didn't feel it.

  I was on the floor looking up at the white ceiling. Marianne was beside me. Her lips were moving, but no sound came out. Sound finally came through with an almost audible pop like a small sonic boom.

  Screaming. Everyone was screaming. I heard Richard's voice and Roxanne's and others. I tried to sit up and couldn't.

  Marianne touched my shoulder. "Don't try to move."

  I wanted to see what was happening, but I couldn't make my body move. I could feel it, but it was like a great weight along my body, as if what I really wanted to do was sleep.

  I flexed my right hand, and it was empty. I'd dropped the Browning somewhere. Frankly, I was just happy to be able to move my hand. I wasn't joking when I'd told Roxanne she could break my neck without trying hard.

  I kept flexing things, waiting to be able to stand up. I was finally able to move my head enough to see the rest of the room. Richard had Roxanne around the waist, feet completely off the ground. Roland and Ben were trying to pull Richard off of her. Shang-Da was trying to get Dr. Carrie Onslow to go back outside the kitchen door.

  Roxanne squirmed out of Richard's arms. She strode over to me, and Zane and Cherry moved like a wall between us. She shoved between the two of them, screaming, "Your turn, bitch! Your turn!"

  She was standing there, sideways, with the two wereleopards trying to hold her without hurting her. Her right leg was flexed forward. I think only Marianne heard me say, "My pleasure."

  I kicked Roxanne just below the kneecap, aiming up. The kneecap popped out of its socket, and she went down shrieking. I kicked her twice in the face. Blood blossomed from her nose and mouth.

  I got to my feet. No one tried to help me. The room had suddenly fallen so quiet, you could hear Roxanne's breathing, too loud, too fast. She spat blood on the floor. I walked around her and the wereleopards until I was close to the table. Ben and Roland still held Richard, but it was like they'd forgotten why they were doing it. Shang-Da picked Carrie Onslow up and carried her out the door with her yelling, "Richard!"

  It was one of those moments when time seems to slow and stretch and happen too fast all at the same time. I heard Roxanne say, "I will kill you for that!" But I don't honestly remember whether I picked the chair up before or after she said it. I only remember having the chair and when she leaped at me, I smashed the chair into her like you'd use a baseball bat, taking the arms way back, throwing my shoulders and back muscles into it. The shock of the blow left my fingers and hands tingling, but I kept the grip on the chair.

  Roxanne was on all fours on the floor, but she wasn't down. I raised the chair for another blow as her power flowed over me lik
e a scalding wind. I smashed the chair down with everything I had. She caught it and tore it out of my hands.

  I backed up and pulled the Firestar.

  Roland yelled, "No guns!"

  I glanced at Richard. He said, "No guns." The look on his face was enough. He was scared for me. So was I.

  No guns. Were they kidding? Roxanne tried to get to her feet, but the knee wouldn't hold. She fell, and the chair thudded into the floor. She screamed and threw the chair at me. I had to dive for the floor to avoid it.

  She came for me on hands and one leg in a movement almost too fast to follow. I had plenty of time to shoot her, but I wasn't supposed to shoot her. I crab walked backwards, trying to stay away. The Firestar was still in my hand. I yelled, "Richard!"

  The marks suddenly opened between us like a floodgate. I was bathed in the scent of his skin and the distant musk of fur.

  Roxanne hesitated in that maniac, skittering crawl. Her pretty face began to stretch outward as if a hand were pushing out from the inside. A muzzle bloomed in the middle of that human face, covered in human skin with a line of lipstick where lips used to be.

  I reached down that line of power between Richard and myself. I wrapped the scent of him, the feel of him, the jittering play of energy. I could suddenly feel the moon in the daylight sky, and knew—knew in every cell of my body—that tomorrow night was it, tomorrow night I would be free. And for an instant, I wasn't sure whose thought that was, Richard's or his beast's.

  I left the Firestar on the floor and got to my feet with the window behind me. I knew Richard wouldn't let her kill me, but I also knew she was going to hurt me. I'd thrown a werewolf through a window once upon a time. It had stopped the fight. It was all I could think of. Of course, Roxanne had to cooperate and run at me like a maniac to set herself up for the throw. If she came at me slower, it wouldn't work.

  She came at me slower, in a limping run. I was out of ideas. One thing I knew: If she touched me with those claws or that mouth, I might be a lupa for real next month. Time was in that crystalline run, slow and fast, slow and glitteringly fast. I thought of several things to do and wouldn't be fast enough to do any of them. But I'd go down trying.

  Richard was yelling, "No claws, Roxanne, no claws."

  I don't think Roxanne heard him. She swiped at me with those monstrous claws, and I ducked under the swinging arm. I ducked blows that were too fast to see, avoided her like I knew where she'd be. It was Richard, the marks, but it was too confusing, too new for me to be able to fight with it. I could use it to avoid her, but only for so long.

  I ended up on my back, on the floor, pointing the Firestar up at her. She was coming with claws and teeth, and I was out of options.

  The door burst open, and Verne yelled, "Roxanne, no!" I felt his power crash through the room like the lid on a boiling pot, something thrown over the heat, to hold it, contain it, but it didn't stop it.

  Ben and Roland were suddenly hanging onto Roxanne, dragging her back from me. If Verne had given an order to them, I hadn't heard it. Roxanne was cutting them up, slicing their arms open, and they were taking it.

  Verne was still yelling, "I lied, Roxanne. I lied. She didn't proposition me."

  Roxanne went very still in their arms. She spoke around that only partly human mouth, "What did you say?"

  Lucy came in behind Verne, through the still-open door. She shut the door and leaned against it, smiling, enjoying the show.

  "I said, I lied," Verne said. "I'm an old man, and you are beautiful and powerful and thirty years younger than I am. I told you when she marked my neck that she propositioned me. She didn't."

  Roxanne relaxed in the grip of her bleeding bodyguards. You could feel the tension seep away, and with it her flesh. Her face, her hands, flowed until she stood human again. Her nose was bloody where I'd kicked her.

  "You can let me go," she said. "I won't hurt her."

  They didn't let her go. They looked at Verne.

  "How about me, darling?" he said. "You going to hurt me?"

  "When we get home, I'll kick the shit out of you, but not here, not now."

  Verne smiled. Roxanne smiled. And both smiles were the same. It was more than lust, though that was mixed in with it. It was a look that couples have, like a secret language, a look that excludes everyone else and cannot be explained.

  I looked at Richard. "They be crazier than we are."

  He smiled at me, and the smile warmed me down to my Nikes. I smiled back, and realized with a jolt that tingled through my entire body that we had our own secret look. God, I'd missed him.

  Lucy stalked into the room on a pair of platform shoes, purple short-shorts, and what looked like a lavender bra but probably wasn't. She sashayed up to Richard, slipping both of her arms through one of his.

  "He's rejected me for you, sweetie," she said in a voice that was too pleasant for the anger in her eyes.

  I looked at Richard. "I don't think he dumped you because of me."

  She pushed away from Richard to stand in front of me. I had the gun in my hand. I figured I was safe. The marks with Richard faded, pulled back, replaced with the knowledge that we were a couple again. I valued that a hell of a lot more than the marks.

  "I can do things for him in bed that your human body could never do. I can take every ounce of strength, every thrust, and it just feels good. It doesn't have to be gentle with me, careful with me."

  Which hit a little close to home, which is my only excuse for what I said next. "Gee, Lucy, I don't know. He spends one night with me and drops you like yesterday's news. Either you're not that good a lay, or I'm better."

  Her face narrowed down, eyes wide; for a second, I thought she might cry. I didn't want her to cry. That would spoil it and make me feel like a shit.

  Lucy turned away from me, bringing her hands to cover her face. Damn.

  I looked past her to Richard. The look on his face was not happy with me. I couldn't blame him on this one.

  I didn't see Lucy turn, I felt it. I felt the air move as she whirled. Her hand caught me across the face. I had the sensation of falling, but if I hit the ground, I didn't remember it.

  Chapter 41

  I woke to darkness and the smell of clean sheets. I blinked at the strange windows and the spill of moonlight on the floor. I didn't recognize the room. Once I realized I wasn't anywhere I'd ever been, tension filled me like water. I heard someone behind me, and that raised the tension another notch. I tried to lie still, but I knew my breathing had changed. If they were human, they might not have noticed, but I just didn't know that many humans right now.

  "Anita, it's Damian."

  I rolled over onto my right side, and it hurt. My right arm was bandaged from my palm to about the middle of my forearm. It didn't hurt that much, but I couldn't remember how I'd injured it. The vampire was sitting in a chair by the door. His long, red hair looked a strange pale brown in the dark. He was wearing the vest and pants of a very nice, probably tailored, business suit. It might have been black or navy or even dark brown. His skin glowed pale against the darkness of the cloth.

  "What time is it?" I asked.

  "You're the only one wearing a watch," he said.

  I raised my left hand in front of my face and hit the little button that made it glow. The glow seemed brighter than it should have because of the darkness. "God, it's after eleven. I've been out for hours." I lay back on the bed. "Did it occur to anyone to take me to a hospital?"

  "The sun's only been down for a little over two hours, Anita. I don't know what choices were made. When Asher and I woke, we were in the basement here. We fed, then I took Richard's place here by your bed."

  "Where is Richard?"

  "I think he's at their lupanar, but I'm not certain."

  I glanced at him. He seemed somehow distant. "You didn't ask any questions?"

  "I was told to stay here and guard your rest. What more did I need to know?"

  "You aren't a slave, Damian. You're allowed to ask question
s."

  "I got to sit here in the dark and watch you sleep. What more could your pet vampire ask?" That last had a bitter edge to it.

  I sat up slowly because I still felt wobbly. "What's that supposed to mean?" I tried to prop my back against the heavy wooden headboard but needed more pillows under me. I tried to push them under me with my right hand, and it hurt. It was a nice, sharp ache.

  "I remember Lucy hitting me, but what happened to my arm?"

  Damian put one knee on the bed and helped prop the pillows under my back. He even found an extra one for me to lay my right arm on. "Richard said Lucy tried to pull your arm off."

  That bit of knowledge left me cold and scared. "Jesus, a woman scorned."

  "Pillows better?" he asked.

  "Yeah, thanks."

  He got to his feet and started to move back to the chair.

  I said, "Don't." I held my left hand out to him.

  He took my hand. His skin was warm to the touch. There was a light dew of sweat on his palm. Vampires can sweat, but they don't do it often. I squeezed his hand, staring up into his face. The moonlight was strong, so I could see his face. His skin was pale, almost luminous. Those brilliant green eyes were just liquid darkness by moonlight. I drew him to sit beside me.

  "You've fed tonight or your skin would be cold, so why the sweat?"

  He drew his hand out of mine, turning his face away. "You don't want to know."

  "Yeah, I do." I touched his chin with my fingertips, turning his face back to me. "What's wrong?"

  "Don't you have enough to worry about without bothering with me?"

  "Tell me what's wrong, Damian. I mean it."

  He let out a long, shaking breath. "There; you've done it. A direct order."