Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  The stream was ankle-deep now. The water was so cold, I had trouble feeling my feet. Running helped. Concentrating on my body, moving, running, trying not to fall, trying not to think about what was behind me. The real trick would be, was there another way out? If I couldn't kill them and couldn't get past them and there was only one way out, I was going to lose.

  I kept running. I did four miles three times a week, plus a little extra. I could keep running. Besides, what choice did I have?

  The water was filling the passageway and growing deeper. I was knee-deep in water. It was slowing me down. Could she move faster in water than I could? I didn't know. I just didn't know.

  A rush of air blew against my back. I turned, and there was nothing there. The air was warm and smelled faintly of flowers. Was it the lamia? Did she have other ways of catching me besides just chasing? No; lamias could perform illusions only on men. That was their power. I wasn't male, so I was safe.

  The wind touched my face, gently, warm and fragrant with a rich, green smell like freshly dug roots. What was happening?

  "Anita."

  I whirled, but there was no one there. The circle of light showed only tunnel and water. There was no sound but the lapping of water. Yet . . . the warm wind blew against my cheek, and the smell of flowers was growing stronger.

  Suddenly, I knew what it was. I remembered being chased up the stairs by a wind that couldn't have been there, the glow of blue fire like free-floating eyes. The second mark.

  It had been different, no smell of flowers, but I knew that was it. Alejandro didn't have to touch me to give me the mark, no more than Jean-Claude had.

  I slipped on the slick stones and fell neck-deep in water. I scrambled to my feet, thigh-deep in water. My jeans were soaked and heavy. I sloshed forward, trying to run, but the water was too deep for running. It'd be quicker to swim.

  I dove into the water, flashlight grasped in one hand. The leather jacket dragged at me, slowed me down. I stood up and stripped it off and let it float with the current. I hated to lose the jacket, but if I survived, I could buy more.

  I was glad I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and not a sweater. It was too damn cold to strip down anymore. It was faster swimming. The warm wind tickled down my face, hot after the chill of the water.

  I don't know what made me look behind me, just a feeling. Two pinpoints of blackness were floating towards me in the air. If blackness could burn, then that's what it was: black flame coming for me on the warm, flower-scented breeze.

  A rock wall loomed ahead. The stream ran under it. I held onto the wall and found there was maybe an inch of air space between the water and the roof of the tunnel. It looked like a good way to drown.

  I treaded water and shone the flashlight around the passage. There; a narrow shelf of rock to climb out on, and blessed be, another tunnel. A dry one.

  I pulled myself up on the shelf, but the wind hit me like a warm hand. It felt good and safe, and it was a lie.

  I turned, and the black flames hovered over me like demonic fireflies. "Anita, accept it."

  "Go to hell!" I pressed my back to the wall, surrounded by the warm tropical wind. "Please, don't do this," but it was a whisper.

  The flames descended slowly. I hit at them. The flames passed through my hands like ghosts. The smell of flowers was almost chokingly sweet. The flames passed into my eyes, and for an instant I could see the world through bits of colored flame and a blackness that was a kind of light.

  Then nothing. My vision was my own. The warm breeze died slowly away. The scent of flowers clung to me like some expensive perfume.

  There was the sound of something large moving in the dark. I brought the flashlight up slowly into the dark-skinned face of a nightmare.

  Straight, black hair was cut short and smooth around a thin face. Golden eyes with pupils like slits stared at me unblinking, immobile. His slender upper body dragged his useless lower body closer to me.

  From the waist down he was all translucent skin. You could still see his legs and genitals, but they were all blending together to form a rough snakelike shape. Where do little lamias come from when there are no male lamias? I stared at what had once been a human being and screamed.

  He opened his mouth, and fangs flicked into sight. He hissed, and spit dribbled down his chin. There was nothing human left in those slitted eyes. The lamia was more human than he was, but if I was changing into a snake maybe I'd be crazy, too. Maybe crazy was a blessing.

  I drew the Browning and fired point-blank into his mouth. He jerked back, shrieking, but no blood, no dying. Dammit.

  There was a scream from farther away, echoing towards us. "Raju!" The lamia was screaming for her mate, or warning him.

  "Anita, don't hurt him." This from Alejandro. At least he had to yell. He couldn't whisper in my mind anymore.

  The thing pulled itself towards me, mouth gaping, fangs straining.

  "Tell him not to hurt me!" I yelled back.

  The Browning was safely in its holster, and I was out of bullets anyway.

  Flashlight in one hand, knife in the other, I waited. If they got here in time to call him off, fine. I didn't have much faith in silver knives if silver bullets didn't harm him, but I wasn't going down without a fight.

  His hands were bloody from dragging his body over the rocks. I never thought I'd see anything that was worse than being changed into a vampire, but there it was, crawling towards me.

  It was between me and the dry tunnel, but it was moving agonizingly slowly. I pressed my back to the wall and got to my feet. He—it—moved faster, definitely after me. I ran past it, but a hand closed on my ankle, yanked me to the ground.

  The creature grabbed my legs and started to pull me towards it. I sat up and plunged the knife into its shoulder. It screamed, blood spilling down its arm. The knife stuck in the bone, and the monster jerked it out of my hand.

  Then it reared back and struck my calf, fangs sinking in. I screamed and drew the second knife.

  It raised its face, blood trickling down its mouth, heavy yellow drops clinging to its fangs.

  I plunged the blade into one golden eye. The creature shrieked, drowning us in echoes. It rolled onto its back, lower body thrashing, hands clawing. I rolled with it and pushed the knife in with everything I had.

  I felt the tip of the knife scrape on its skull. The monster continued to thrash and fight, but it was as hurt as I could make it. I left the knife in its eye but jerked the one free of its shoulder.

  "Raju, no!"

  I flashed the light on the lamia. Her pale upper body gleamed wet in the light. Alejandro was beside her. He looked nearly healed. I'd never seen a vampire that could heal that fast.

  "I will kill you for their deaths," the lamia said.

  "No, the girl is mine."

  "She has killed my mate. She must die!"

  "I will give her the third mark tonight. She will be my servant. That is revenge enough."

  "No!" she screamed.

  I was waiting for the poison to start working, but so far the bite just hurt, no burning, no nothing. I stared at the dry tunnel, but they'd just follow me and I couldn't kill them, not like this, not today. But there'd be other days.

  I slipped back into the stream. There was still only an inch of air space. Risk drowning, or stay, and either be killed by a lamia or enslaved by a vampire. Choices, choices.

  I slipped into the tunnel, mouth pressed near the wet roof. I could breathe. I might survive the day. Miracles do happen.

  Small waves began to slosh through the tunnel. A wave washed over my face, and I swallowed water. I treaded water as gently as I could. It was my movements that were making the waves. I was going to drown myself.

  I stayed very still until the water calmed, then took a deep breath, hyperventilating to expand the lungs and take in as much air as I could. I dunked under the water and kicked. It was too narrow for anything but a scissor kick. My chest was tight, throat aching with the need to breathe. I surfac
ed and kissed rock. There wasn't even an inch of air. Water splashed into my nose and I coughed, swallowing more water. I pressed as close to the ceiling as I could, taking small shallow breaths, then under again, kicking, kicking for all I was worth. If the tunnel filled completely before I was through it, I was going to die.

  What if the tunnel didn't end? What if it was all water? I panicked, kicking furiously, flashlight bouncing crazily off the walls, hovering in the water like a prayer.

  Please, God, please, don't let me die here like this.

  My chest burned, throat bursting with the need to breathe. The light was dimming, and I realized it was my eyes that were losing the light. I was going to pass out and drown. I pushed for the surface and my hands touched empty air.

  I took a gasping breath that hurt all the way down. There was a rocky shore and one bright line of sunlight. There was a hole up in the wall. The sunlight formed a misty haze in the air. I crawled onto the rock, coughing and relearning how to breathe.

  I still had the flashlight and knife in my hands. I didn't remember holding onto them. The rock was covered in a thin sheet of grey mud. I crawled through it towards the rockslide that had opened the hole in the wall.

  If I could make it through the tunnel, maybe they could, too. I didn't wait to feel better. I put the knife back in its sheath, slid the flashlight in my pocket, and started crawling.

  I was covered in mud, hands scraped raw, but I was at the opening. It was a thin crack, but through it I could see trees and a hill. God, it looked good.

  Something surfaced behind me.

  I turned.

  Alejandro rose from the water into the sunlight. His skin burst into flame, and he shrieked, diving into the water away from the burning sun.

  "Burn, you son of bitch, burn."

  The lamia surfaced.

  I slipped into the crack and stuck. I pulled with my hands and pushed with my feet, but the mud slid and I couldn't get through.

  "I will kill you."

  I wrenched my back and put everything I had into wriggling free of that damn hole. The rock scraped along my back and I knew I was bleeding. I fell out onto the hill and rolled until a tree stopped me.

  The lamia came to the crack. Sunlight didn't hurt her. She struggled to get through, tearing at the rock, but her ample chest wasn't going to fit. Her snake body might be narrowable, but the human part wasn't.

  But just in case, I got to my feet and started down the hill. It was steep enough that I had to walk from tree to tree, trying not to fall down the hill. The whoosh of cars was just ahead. A road; a busy one by the sound of it.

  I started to run, letting the momentum of the hill take me faster and faster towards the sounds of cars. I could glimpse the road through the trees.

  I stumbled out onto the edge of the road, covered in grey mud, slimy, wet to the bone, shivering in the autumn air. I'd never felt better. Two cars wheezed by, ignoring my waving arms. Maybe it was the gun in the shoulder holster.

  A green Mazda pulled up and stopped. The driver leaned across and opened the passenger side door. "Hop in."

  It was Edward.

  I stared into his blue eyes, and his face was as blank and unreadable as a cat's, and just as self-satisfied. I didn't give a damn. I slid into the seat and locked the door behind me.

  "Where to?" he asked.

  "Home."

  "You don't need a hospital?"

  I shook my head. "You were following me again."

  He smiled. "I lost you in the woods."

  "City boy," I said.

  His smile widened. "No name-calling. You look like you flunked your Girl Scout exam."

  I started to say something, then stopped. He was right, and I was too tired to argue.

  41

  I was sitting on the edge of my bathtub in nothing but a large beach towel. I had showered and shampooed and washed the mud and blood down the drain. Except for the blood that was still seeping out of the deep scrape on my back. Edward held a smaller towel to the cut, putting pressure on it.

  "When the bleeding stops, I'll bandage it up for you," he said.

  "Thanks."

  "I seem to always be patching you up."

  I glanced over my shoulder at him and winced. "I've returned the favor."

  He smiled. "True."

  The cuts on my hands had already been bandaged. I looked like a tan version of the mummy's hand.

  He touched the fang marks on my calf gently. "This worries me."

  "Me, too."

  "There's no discoloration." He looked up at me. "No pain?"

  "None. It wasn't a full lamia, maybe it wasn't that poisonous. Besides, you think anywhere in St. Louis is going to have lamia antivenom? They've been listed extinct for over two hundred years."

  Edward palpated the wound. "I can't feel any swelling."

  "It's been over an hour, Edward. If poison was going to kick in, it would have by now."

  "Yeah." He stared at the bite. "Just keep an eye on it."

  "I didn't know you cared," I said.

  His face was blank, empty. "It would be a lot less interesting world without you in it." The voice was flat, unemotional. It was like he wasn't there at all. Yet it was a compliment. From Edward, it was a huge compliment.

  "Gee whiz, Edward, contain your excitement."

  He gave a small smile that left his eyes blue and distant as winter skies.

  We were friends of a sort, good friends, but I would never really understand him. There was too much of Edward that you couldn't touch, or even see.

  I used to believe that if it came to it, he'd kill me, if it were necessary. Now, I wasn't sure. How could you be friends with someone who you suspected might kill you? Another mystery of life.

  "The bleeding's stopped," he said. He smeared antiseptic on the wound, then started taping bandages in place. The doorbell rang.

  "What time is it?" I asked.

  "Three o'clock."

  "Shit."

  "What is it?"

  "I have a date coming over."

  "You? Have a date?"

  I frowned at him. "It's not that big a deal."

  Edward was grinning like the proverbial cat. He stood up. "You're all fixed up. I'll go let him in."

  "Edward, be nice."

  "Me, nice?"

  "All right, just don't shoot him."

  "I think I can manage that." Edward walked out of the bathroom to let Richard in.

  What would Richard think being met at the door by another man? Edward certainly wasn't going to help matters. He'd probably offer him a seat without explaining who he was. I wasn't even sure I could explain that.

  "This is my friend the assassin." Nope. A fellow vampire slayer, maybe.

  The bedroom door was closed so I could get dressed in privacy. I tried to put on a bra and found that my back hurt a lot. No bra. That limited what I could wear, unless I wanted to give Richard more of a look-see than I had planned on. I also wanted to keep an eye on the bite wound. So pants were out.

  Most of the time I slept in oversize t-shirts, and slipping on a pair of jeans was my idea of a robe. But I did own one real robe. It was comfortable, a nice solid black, silky to the touch and absolutely not see-through.

  A black silk teddy went with it, but I decided that was a little friendlier than I wanted to be; besides, the teddy wasn't comfortable. Lingerie seldom is.

  I pulled the robe out of the back of my closet and slipped it on. It was smooth and wonderful next to my skin. I crossed the front so the bordered edge was high up on my chest and tied the black belt tight in place. Didn't want any slippage.

  I listened at the door for a second and heard nothing. No talking, no moving around, nothing. I opened the door and walked out.

  Richard was sitting on the couch with an armful of costumes hung over the back. Edward was making coffee in the kitchen like he owned the place.

  Richard turned at my entrance. His eyes widened just a little. The hair still damp from the shower, and the
slinky robe—what was he thinking?

  "Nice robe," Edward said.

  "It was a present from an overly optimistic date."

  "I like it," Richard said.

  "No smart remarks or you can just leave."

  His eyes flicked to Edward. "Did I interrupt something?"

  "He's a coworker, nothing more." I frowned at Edward, daring him to say anything. He smiled and poured coffee for all three of us.

  "Let's sit at the table," I said. "I don't drink coffee on a white couch."

  Edward sat the mugs on the small table. He leaned against the cabinets, leaving the two chairs for us.

  Richard left his coat on the couch and sat down across from me. He was wearing a bluish-green sweater with darker blue designs worked across the chest. The color brought out the perfect brown of his eyes. His cheekbones seemed higher. A small Band-Aid marred his right cheek. His hair had gentle auburn highlights. Wondrous what the right color can do for a person.

  The fact that I looked great in black had not escaped my notice. From the look on Richard's face, he was noticing, but his eyes kept slipping back to Edward.

  "Edward and I were out hunting down the vampires that have been doing the killings."

  His eyes widened. "Did you find out anything?"

  I looked at Edward.

  He shrugged. It was my call.

  Richard hung around with Jean-Claude. Was he Jean-Claude's creature? I didn't think so, but then again . . . Caution is always better. If I was wrong, I'd apologize later. If I was right, I'd be disappointed in Richard but glad I hadn't told.

  "Let's just say we lost today."

  "You're alive," Edward said.

  He had a point.

  "Did you almost die today?" Richard's voice was outraged.

  What could I say? "It's been a rough day."

  He glanced at Edward, then back to me. "How bad was it?"

  I motioned my bandaged hands at him. "Scrapes and cuts; nothing much."

  Edward hid a smile in his coffee mug.

  "Tell me the truth, Anita," Richard said.

  "I don't owe you any explanations." My voice sounded just a tad defensive.

  Richard stared down at his hands, then looked up at me. There was a look in his eyes that made my throat tight. "You're right. You don't owe me anything."