I heard a distant scream, but that was all. "Don't die, Asher, please, don't die."
He coughed until something dark and black came out his mouth. Blood poured out of his mouth in a near steady stream. I touched his skin, and it was cool to the touch.
"If you fed off of one of the lycanthropes, would it be enough to save you?"
"If it's soon, perhaps." His voice was soft and thick.
I touched his forehead and came away with chill sweat. "How badly are you hurt?"
He ignored me, speaking very softly, "Know this, Anita, that seeing myself through your eyes has healed my heart."
My throat was tight with tears. "Please, Asher, don't."
A drop of pure blood slid out of his eye. "Be happy with your two beaus. Don't make the same mistakes that Jean-Claude and I made all those long years ago." He touched my face with a hand that was slick with blood. "Be happy in their arms, ma cherie."
His eyes fluttered. If he passed out, we might lose him. There was nothing in the night but the sounds of cicada and the wind. Where the hell was everyone?
"Asher, don't pass out."
His eyes fluttered open, but he was having trouble focusing. I felt his heart hesitate, skip a beat. He could live without his heart beating, but I knew that this time, when the heart went, it was over. He was dying. Nikki had broken him inside too badly for healing.
I put my right wrist, encased in white bandages, in front of his mouth. "Take my blood."
"To drink from you is to give you power over any of us. I do not want to be your slave any more than I already am."
I was crying, tears so hot they burned. "Don't let Colin kill you. Please, please!" I held him against me and whispered, "Don't leave us, Asher." I felt Jean-Claude all those miles away. I felt his panic at the thought of losing Asher. "Don't leave us, not now, not now that we've found you again. Tu es beau, mon amour. Tu me fais craquer."
He actually smiled. "I shatter your heart, eh?"
I kissed his cheek, kissed his face, and cried, hot tears against the harsh scars of his face. "Je t'embrasse partout. Je t'embrasse partout. I kiss you all over, mon amour."
He stared up at me. "Je te bois des yeux. "
"Don't drink me with your eyes, damn it, drink me with your mouth." I tore the bandages away from my right wrist with my teeth and put my bare, warm flesh against his cold lips.
He whispered, "Je t'adore." Fangs sank into my wrist. It was sharp and deep. His mouth locked against my skin. His throat convulsed, swallowing. I stared into his pale eyes and felt something in my head part like a curtain, some shield shattered. One moment it was one continuous ache almost nauseating, then there was nothing but the spreading warmth. I didn't even have time to panic. Asher rolled over my mind like a warm lip of ocean, pleasurable, caressing. It burst over me in a skin-tingling, breath-stealing rush that left me gasping and wet. Then Asher was kneeling above me, laying me gently on the ground.
I lay, staring at nothing, riding the sensations up and down my body. I'd never let any vampire do me like this, never let them steal my mind while they stole my blood. I hadn't even known he could do it. Not to me.
He kissed me on the forehead. "Forgive me, Anita. I did not know that I could embrace your mind. I did not know that any vampire could." He stared down at my face, searching for some reaction. I couldn't give him one yet. He drew back enough to see my face clearly. "I feared you would possess me as you possess Damian if I fed from your blood without using any of my powers. I did try to scale your shield, break your barriers, but I did it to protect myself from your power. I did not dream that I could breach such impenetrable walls." He started to touch my face, then stopped, his hand falling to his lap. "The marks that bind you to Jean-Claude protect you from him embracing your mind. But he was never as good at this as I was. I should have thought of that before."
I just lay there, half-floating. Nothing was real yet. I couldn't think, couldn't speak.
He raised my hand and pressed it against his scarred cheek. "I drew back as soon as I realized what I had done. It was just, how do you say, a quickie. It was only a small taste of what it could have been, Anita. Please, believe me." He stood, and I couldn't follow the movement. I lay on the ground and tried to think.
Jason knelt beside me. I was aware enough to wonder where the hell he'd come from. He wasn't staying at Marianne's. Or was he? "It's your first time?" he asked.
I tried to nod but couldn't.
"Now you know why I stay with them," he said.
"No," I said, but my voice was distant as if it wasn't my voice at all. "No, I don't."
"You felt it. You rode him. How can you not love it?"
I couldn't explain it. It had felt wondrous, but as the glow began to fade, the fear welled up big and black enough to swallow the world. It felt amazing, and that had been a "quickie," as he put it. I never wanted anything more from Asher. Because if it was much better than this, I might chase the rest of my days for another taste. And Jean-Claude could not give it to me. The marks prevented him from rolling my mind. It was one of the things that made the difference between servant and slave. I would never get this with Jean-Claude, never. And I wanted it. I hadn't wanted Asher to die. Now I wasn't so sure.
Asher came back to stand over me. We stared at each other. There were people in the dark now. Someone had a flashlight. They flared it over me. I was left staring in the brightness, nearly blind. The light stood harsh on Asher's face, highlighting the reddish tracks of tears. "Don't hate me, Anita. I could not bear it if you hated me."
"I don't hate you, Asher." My voice still sounded thick and heavy with that golden edge of pleasure. "I fear you."
He just stood there, tears sliding down his face. The tears slid in reddish lines down the smooth skin of his left side. The tears got lost in the scars on the other side, and were beginning to collect in a reddish stain on the stiff skin. "Worse," he whispered, "worse, I think."
42
I kicked everyone out except Jason. He got to stay because they started arguing that I couldn't be left completely alone. Had I forgotten that people were trying to kill me? Had I forgotten that Jean-Claude had said he'd kill them all if I died? That last did not win friends and influence people with me. My comment had been, "If we all died, I guess that'd solve everything." Which sort of put an end to the arguments.
Jason lay on the bed propped in the nest of pillows. He tried to roll onto his side, then stopped in midmotion with a small sound of pain. He moved stiffly, like things hurt, which was what had gotten him a place on the bed instead of the chair.
I was pacing the room. I had a little circuit mapped out. Foot of the bed, windows, far wall, near wall with the door.
"You know that you've walked past the foot of the bed twenty times, and that's just since I started counting," Jason said.
"Shut up," I said. I'd put all my guns back on, not because I thought I needed them, but because they were familiar. The tightness of the shoulder holster, the digging of the Firestar in its inner-pants holster made me feel more like myself. I was the only one of the three of us who carried guns. It was one thing I knew that I hadn't gotten from either of them. It was mine. Guns, this particular brand of violence, was all mine. I needed something that was all mine right now.
Jason moved over on his side, slowly, an inch at a time. It took him until I'd made the circuit and was back at the foot of the bed before he made it to his side with a look of relief. He and Jamil had been moved to this house so that all the injured could be in one place. Roxanne was just down the hall with Ben sitting guard. Apparently, I'd been channeling enough of Richard's power that they thought she might have a concussion. I wasn't sure if Ben was supposed to be guarding her from me or the other way around. Dr. Patrick was down in the kitchen stirring the stew that Marianne had left us. Zane and Cherry were here, but all the other shifters had gone to the lupanar. They were going to finish the ceremony that had been interrupted last night. Bully for them.
Ash
er was somewhere in the house. I didn't know where and didn't want to know. Too much was happening too damned fast. I needed some time to regroup. And I wasn't going to get it.
There was a knock on the door.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"It's Damian."
"Go away."
"There's a vampire down here with one of Sheriff Wilkes's deputies. They say they have to talk to you or Richard. They aren't treating this like police business."
That got my attention. I stopped pacing and went to the door. Damian stood there, still wearing the vest that Barnaby had ripped all the buttons off of. When Colin's human servant died, Barnaby had given up the fight and flown away. Damian's suit was black in bright light and made his skin look unbelievably white.
"What did they say exactly?" I asked.
"Just that they had a message for the two of you from Frank Niley."
"Fuck," I said, softly.
"They're sitting in the kitchen with Dr. Patrick and Asher."
"Tell Roxanne and Jamil that the bad guys are here. I'll go down and talk to them."
"The man has a gun," Damian said.
"So do I," I said. I walked down the hall, and Damian fell in step behind me.
Jason called from the door. "Wait for me."
"Follow at your own pace, Jason. I'm not waiting for you to trip down the stairs."
"Don't let her get killed, Damian," he said.
I called back over my shoulder, "He'll do what I tell him to do." An hour or so of thinking about everything I had learned had not improved my mood.
I clattered down the stairs. Damian followed like a soundless shadow at my back. Why hadn't Wilkes and his men stormed the place? I'd really expected them to just start shooting if they found out we hadn't left town. What message could they have from Niley? And where did the vampire come in? Dolph hadn't mentioned anything about Niley traveling with a vamp. Dolph hated vamps enough that he would have mentioned it. So many questions, and for once, I was going to get them answered almost as soon as I thought of them. How refreshing.
The kitchen looked normal. They'd scrubbed the blood off the linoleum and placed a fresh lace tablecloth on the table. Deputy Thompson sat in one of the kitchen chairs. He was in civvie clothes, no uniform. A tall, thin vampire that I'd never seen before sat in the chair beside him. Dr. Patrick sat in the chair facing them with his back to the hallway, to us. Nathaniel took up the last chair. He was staring at the vampire.
Zane stood with his back against the sink. Asher leaned against the china cabinet close enough to Thompson that he could have touched him and certainly could prevent him from pulling the gun. The gun in question was a Berretta 10 mil in a shoulder holster. Same gun as on duty, just in a different holster. Letting Asher that close was careless, but Thompson didn't seem to think that.
He smiled at me, and the smile was confident, arrogant, like he had me where he wanted me, and I couldn't do anything about it. What was going on?
"How'd you find me?" I asked.
He stuck a thumb in the vampire's direction. "The local Master of the City told us he could still feel you in town. They helped us hunt you down. Evidently, you're easier to find than your boyfriend. Something about your power attracts them."
I stared at the vampire. His face was unreadable, pale and empty. His eyes were dark grey, his hair straight and black. It was cut short and smoothed back over his forehead in a pompadour. That was what they'd called it in the fifties. The hairdo matched the feel of him in my head. He wasn't fifty years dead yet.
"What's your name?"
"Donald."
"Hi, Donald, missed you at the wienie roast."
Anger flared across the vampire's face. He wasn't old enough to hide it. "You told my master that you were here just to get your third out of jail. Once you had accomplished that, you should have gone home. You pretended to leave town but did not. If you had simply left, we would have accepted the murder of our people. By staying, you show that you intend to possess our lands and my master's power."
"Have you talked to your master lately?" I asked. "Or more importantly, has he talked to his human servant lately?"
The vampire glared at me, but there was no power to it. "Colin is injured but not yet dead. But the Council will slay you for ... killing his servant."
Asher said, "A human servant gives up their safe conduct if they attack another vampire directly. That is Council law. Anita did nothing that the Council will hunt her for. If Colin persists in trying to harm us, it is he the Council will hunt down and destroy."
"Enough of the vampire crap," I said. I turned back to Thompson. "So, what's the message? I thought if we were still here after dark, Frank was going to do us all personally."
"Ol' Frank seems scared shitless of you. Howard keeps mumbling that the signs are real bad, that they need to leave town now. That if they stay, you'll kill them all."
I raised an eyebrow. "Having met Niley and his crew, I'm flattered at being their bogeyman. Now, what the fuck is the message?"
Thompson brought a small white box out of his pocket. It was like something you'd buy an inexpensive necklace in. He held it out to me with a smile that was so unpleasant, it made me afraid to take the box.
"It won't bite," he said.
I glanced at Asher. He shrugged.
I took the box. It was tacky on the bottom. I raised it to see a brownish stain on the white cardboard. The box was light but not empty. "What's in here?"
"Don't want to spoil the surprise," Thompson said.
I took a deep breath and lifted the lid off. There was a lock of hair, curled over some cotton. The hair was long and thick and chestnut brown, tied with a bit of red ribbon like you'd use on a present. I lifted the lock of hair and it fell across my palm. The cotton it had been resting on was stained at one corner. Stained reddish brown.
I fought to keep my face blank. "So?" I said.
"Don't you recognize it? Zeeman's baby brother donated that."
"You didn't get blood cutting Daniel's hair," I said.
"No," he smiled, laughed, squirming in his chair like a kid who couldn't wait for the rest of the joke, "There's another little present in the box. Lift up the cotton."
I laid the hair on the table. It lay there curled and gleaming. I didn't want to lift the cotton. I didn't want to see what else they'd cut off of Daniel. The one consolation I had was that of the many awful possibilities that flashed through my mind, most of them were too big to fit into the box.
I lifted the cotton and fell to my knees like someone had struck me. I knelt there, staring down at the tip of a little finger that was far too delicate to be Daniel's. The nail polish on the finger was still perfect, smooth, pale. Nothing déclassé about Richard's mother.
Dr. Patrick had to leave the table and throw up in the sink. Soft touch for a doctor and a werewolf.
"What is it?" Cherry asked.
I couldn't speak.
Asher answered because he could see over my shoulder into the box. "It's a woman's finger."
Jason had just entered the room. "What did you just say?"
The vampire, Donald, said, "What have you done, human?"
"We have Richard's brother and his mother," Thompson said. "I thought we'd just kill you, but Niley's paying the money. He wants to give you a way out besides killing. He seems to think if he doesn't try to kill you, you won't try and kill him. Funny, ain't it?"
I finally looked up, away from Charlotte Zeeman's finger. "What do you want?"
"You leave town tonight. We release Richard's mother and brother tomorrow morning, when we're sure you really are gone. If you don't leave this time, Niley will keep trimming pieces off of Zeeman's family. Maybe an ear next time, maybe something bigger." He was grinning as he said it. Thompson was a sadistic brute, but he didn't understand me at all, or he wouldn't have been smiling.
There was a look on Donald the vampire's face that said he did understand me.
I stood up very slowly. I laid
the box on the table beside the lock of hair. My voice was amazingly calm, almost empty of inflection. "Where are they?"
"We left them safe and sound," Thompson said.
"I did not know what they had done," the vampire said. "I did not know they had mutilated your third's family."
I shook my head. "You see, that's the problem, Donald. When you play with bad guys, you can't control how bad they are. You both just left Daniel and Charlotte, just left them there."
"Yeah," Thompson said. "Ol' Don here picked me up in his car."
I was staring at the finger. I couldn't seem to not look at it. I raised my eyes to Donald the vampire. "So, you both know where they are," I said.
Donald's eyes went wide. He whispered, "I didn't know."
Asher moved forward and laid hands on Thompson's shoulders.
Thompson wasn't worried. "If anything happens to us, they'll do worse to both of them. Richard's mom is a real attractive woman. Be a shame to change that."
Donald said, "I am sorry about what they did, but my orders are the same. You must leave our territory tonight."
"Use the kitchen phone. Tell them we give. Tell them don't hurt them, and we're out of here."
Thompson smirked. "No, no phone calls. They're giving us two hours. Then, if we're not back, they'll start cutting things off that will affect a lot more than her typing."
I nodded and pulled the Browning. I pointed it and shot it in one motion. I didn't even remember aiming. The vampire's head exploded in a cloud of blood and brains. The body rocked back and fell, taking the chair with it.
Asher held Thompson in his seat. Some of the blood had splattered Thompson's face. A glob of something thicker than blood was trailing down his forehead. He was trying to bat at the piece of flesh, but Asher held him.
I took the gun out from under his arm and pointed the Browning at his forehead.
Thompson stopped fighting and glared up at me. I had to give him credit. Covered in blood and brains, held down by a vampire, staring at the barrel of a gun, and he was putting on a brave show. "Kill me, it won't get you anything but them cut to pieces."
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