Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter collection 11-15

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  I dropped the tiniest edge of my shields, like peeking over it in the midst of battle. I was holding hands with a vampire, surrounded by them, and sometimes when I was that wrapped up in vamps it was hard to sense other vampires. But not this one; this one was someone I didn’t know. It was vampire, but unlike anything that had ever touched me before.

  I glanced at Micah on the other side of Damian. Micah was shaking his head like a fly was buzzing him. He looked at me. “What’s happening?”

  I shook my head. “Vampire shit.” Beyond that I truly didn’t know. I looked over and found Nathaniel’s face peaceful, waiting, as the lights dimmed. Jason’s face lost its fight, too. I glanced at Damian, and his eyes were wide, a little panicked almost, then his face went peaceful, as well. I looked at Jean-Claude. He whispered, “He will try to make humans of us all.”

  I actually understood what he meant by that. The vampires at Guilty Pleasures and Danse Macabre would sometimes use group mind tricks to make performers appear in the midst of the human audience. Magic. Whatever vampire was doing this was trying not just to roll the human audience, but everyone. He was trying to cloud the minds of the other master vamps, so that his “performers” could appear like magic.

  The theatre had gone eerily silent. There was no rustling, no movement below us. The humans had all had their minds rolled. Next would come the wereanimals, and then the vampires would fall. At least most of them would. I had never felt anything like this.

  I drew my hand out of Damian’s; he didn’t seem to notice. He just kept staring straight ahead. I glanced behind at our bodyguards, and found Claudia staggering. Lisandro was just standing there, all peaceful. Shit, so much for the guards.

  I looked back at Micah. His eyes were starting to unfocus. I grabbed his hand, and thought, No. No way. I pulsed a little power down his hand. My leopard flowed down my hand like warm water, spilling over his skin. He looked at me, eyes wide.

  “Power up our cats,” I whispered.

  He nodded, closed his eyes, and I felt my leopard slip away, and follow his down the metaphysical lines to the other leopards. We had two leopards among the bodyguards.

  “Ma petite, what are you doing?”

  “Fighting back,” I said.

  My leopard began to swell upward, and I reached out to Richard. He was there in the crowd below with his date, a prof from a local college. He couldn’t afford to be outed, but we couldn’t afford not to have him here. He’d impressed the hell out of the prof by having tickets to tonight’s gala event. I brushed his energy, and he whispered through my mind, “What’s happening?”

  I called my wolf, and the leopard quieted, but I could feel Micah reaching out further, finding the leopards. My wolf rose, and I saw through Richard’s eyes. His human date stared at the stage, waiting, unseeing. My wolf touched his, and I thought what I wanted him to do, and I felt his energy, our wolves circle out from him, seeking. Where our energy touched, the wolves woke.

  Having the vamp roll the Masters of the City was impressive, but rolling the guards was dangerous. I didn’t like that at all. I looked behind, and found Claudia still struggling. She fell to her knees, struggling hard not to lose herself to the power. I had no tie to the rats, but it couldn’t hurt to try. Besides, my wolf was starting to rise. I didn’t need that.

  I got out of my chair and knelt beside Claudia. Her eyes were terrified. She reached out. I grabbed her hand. I thought, Power. Her eyes cleared, and she gripped my hand so hard it almost hurt. Suddenly I felt Raphael. Not like I could feel Richard, or Micah, but I felt his power, like a scent on the air. Through Claudia’s hand, his rat’s hand, I offered power. Power enough to free his rats, who were most of our guards.

  He took it, used it, and I felt it like a rock thrown into a pool. Out and out, leopards, wolves, rats, awake, alert. Pissed.

  If there’d been a werehyena close enough, I’d have tried with them, too. Helping the rats had quieted my beasts. The power was awake, but they weren’t trying to tear me apart. We were all waiting for the big, bad vampire to appear. We knew he was out there. We could feel him.

  Jean-Claude’s power flexed, suddenly and so strongly that it bent me over, nearly sent me to the floor. Claudia caught me. “You okay?”

  I nodded.

  Jean-Claude was waking up his vampires, but he needed my necromancy to do it. He’d borrowed without asking, but I was okay with that. There wasn’t going to be time to ask nicely about a lot of things tonight.

  I glanced at the box on the other side, away from Asher’s box. It was Samuel and his family. Samuel looked at me. Thea glanced in our direction. His sons were lost to the magic, as were his two merpeople at his back. Whoever this was, was going to succeed at rolling everybody but the masters themselves and maybe one or two powerful servants. Impressive power, that. Impressive and scary.

  Claudia helped me stand, and the curtains opened behind us. It wasn’t Truth or Wicked, but a vamp I didn’t know. He was tall, and meaty in an athletic sort of way, not fat, just physically bigger than I liked my men. Tall and broad the way Richard was, but unlike Richard, this one knew he was big and liked it. He moved in a glide that was already a kind of dance. Most of his body was nude, just enough covered by his leotard to not get him arrested. His upper body was beautiful even by my standards. Careless blond curls covered to just below his ears, framing a face that was more handsome than beautiful. He put all that beauty into his face so that the gaze of it was like a blow, or that’s what he tried for. Claudia made a small, helpless sound. He’d rolled her, that quick.

  I dug my fingers into her arm, and that didn’t free her. I looked into his pale eyes, and felt the weight of his power. It said, See me, I am beautiful, I am desirable, you want me.

  I shook my head, and had to flex power like unsheathing a blade not to fall into that gaze. Auggie hadn’t been able to roll me, but this one could. I actually dropped my gaze, rather than fight it. The moment my eyes weren’t being bored into by that pale gaze, I could think. Jesus, he was good.

  I saw his hand coming. Claudia tried to stop him. I think he just looked at her, and she stopped moving. Lisandro tried, too, but again, a glance, and they seemed confused. The hesitation was enough. He had the time he needed to touch me. Touch makes it all worse, or better. He wanted me to look up, and I did.

  I met his gaze, and again, his face was like a beautiful weapon. He leaned over me, his face painted with the stage makeup. He leaned in, as if he’d kiss me, and some part of me that was still sane knew that if he kissed me, it would be bad.

  I smelled Jean-Claude’s cologne, and the scent of Richard’s neck. Jean-Claude had opened the marks wider. It made me startle, and take a step back, away from the blond.

  I reached backward, and Jean-Claude took my hand. The touch of my master, and I was proof against the pale-eyed blond.

  He smiled, an arrogant curl of lips. The smile said it all: I almost had you. He was right. He had almost had me. And still there was a breathing presence of power out there in the theatre, flowing over the crowd, and that power wasn’t the blond in front of us. There was still something even more powerful waiting in the wings. Something even more powerful that we’d invited to our town. Sweet Mary, Mother of God, what had we done?

  46

  THE BLOND FLUNG himself over our heads, and out into the air. The air was full of vampires. They had flown up and over the audience, and in that instant the vampire let them go. He released his hold on the audience and they were left gasping, shrieking. Not at the fact that their minds had been messed about with, because they didn’t know that, but at the vampires suddenly appearing above them like magic.

  Jean-Claude helped me back to my seat. I needed the help; my knees were shaky. I looked around at all of us, and only the vampires hid their fear. The rest of us were wide-eyed and a little pale.

  I leaned into Jean-Claude and whispered, “Did they do that every show?”

  He shook his head, and spoke mind-to-mind. Yeah, maybe so
me of the other masters could overhear us, but we knew for dead certain they’d hear us whisper. “He bespelled the humans and some of the wereanimals, but he did not try for the vampires. He left them alone.”

  “Why now,” I whispered, “why tonight?”

  Of course, he didn’t know. That didn’t make me feel any better, strangely.

  Claudia asked permission to check on the other guards. I gave it. I, like Claudia, wanted to see for sure that the other guards were up and running.

  Lisandro was cursing very softly under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” over and over, like he said it with every breath.

  He’d taken the words right out of my mouth.

  The vampires danced on the air, at least a dozen of them. They defied gravity, and made it look effortless. It was beautiful, but I couldn’t enjoy it. I was too scared.

  The blond hovered in front of our box for a moment. He blew me a kiss. I smiled sweetly and gave him a one-fingered salute. He laughed, and flew away.

  Other vampires flew low over the crowd, and they blew kisses at other women and other men. There were three or four women among them. It was sort of the reverse of most ballet companies, where there seemed to be more women than men.

  The drapes at the back of our box opened, and it was Auggie. I got a glimpse of Pierce and Octavius on the other side of the curtain with Wicked and Truth. Auggie didn’t look any happier than I felt.

  He leaned over us, smiling, pretending he’d just come to say hi. “He did not do this in Chicago.”

  “Who didn’t? Who’s doing this?” I asked.

  “Merlin,” Auggie said, “troupe leader, dance master. The blond is Adonis. He used to be Belle’s. Now he belongs to Merlin.”

  I felt that power breathing back on the air, like the smell of smoke drifting through the forest, when you don’t know yet from which direction the flames will come, but you know they’re on the way.

  Auggie touched my bare shoulder. His power slid over my skin like a fall of silk. He offered his hand to Jean-Claude. “You rolled me; use it now.”

  Jean-Claude took his hand. To a casual viewer, they were shaking hands. Auggie’s hand tensed on my bare shoulder, touching the edge of scars where a vamp had once worried at my collarbone like a dog with a rat. I wasn’t entirely sure what Auggie meant for us to do. But Jean-Claude was sure, and you only need one driver on the metaphysical bus. Jean-Claude opened the marks between him and me, opened them wide. If it had been me, I couldn’t have opened them that wide without involving at least Richard, but Jean-Claude had centuries of control under his belt. He used his free hand to touch my arm, and that was all we needed.

  It was as if he pulled aside a curtain, a thick, velvet curtain. I could almost feel it sliding through my body, and then my necromancy flowed out from me like a chill wind. His power met mine, and the cold grew. But not the cold that blankets and coats would cure. This was the cold of the grave, spilled down our skins. Jean-Claude took that cold power and poured it down our hands and into Auggie. His power burst over Auggie, sudden enough that he had to close his eyes. His power was warmer than Jean-Claude’s, warmer than my necromancy. He tasted not just of vampire, but of lion. More than any vampire I’d ever touched, he was also his beast. Interesting.

  His cold warm power rose up, then spilled down his body to meet ours. It was a rush of power that tightened my throat, clenched my hand tight on Jean-Claude’s. Only feasting on Auggie earlier let me know how small this power rush was compared to what we could do with him.

  My lion tried to rise to roll his power. It was Auggie who soothed the lion, like a hand to stroke her quiet. But his power, far into me, found something else to rise. The ardeur started to flare, and it was Jean-Claude who rode it down, dampened those fires. He took the power, firm and hard, in his hand, the way he could suddenly take charge during lovemaking. You go from it being a team sport, to suddenly having him on top, and holding you still, so he can do exactly what he wants, in exactly the way he wants it, giving you more pleasure than you could have found on your own. He rode the power, and Auggie and I were just along for the ride.

  The audience below us was oohing, aahing, giving little fake screams. It sounded like a crowd at a fireworks display, except this display was whirling, floating, diving bodies. I watched the dancers distantly. Their beauty no longer moved me. The power that Jean-Claude was building was the only thing that truly touched me.

  But I heard the rustling of birds again; that got through the power haze. Merlin was about to pour power over the crowd again. He was going to hide the dancers, so they would vanish again, poof.

  Jean-Claude used our power like a slap, a feint to let the other vampire know to back off. I heard birds flutter, as if they’d been disturbed in their sleep. I whispered, “Birds,” and I couldn’t tell if I said it out loud or not.

  “His animal to call,” Auggie whispered back, and that was a voice in my head.

  I felt the power pull back, as if this Merlin had taken a deep breath. I had a moment to think he’d gotten the message, but the next moment that breath came back at us. Power poured over the audience. I felt the humans snuff out like matches, one by one. Vampires are allowed group hypnotism, because group mind tricks aren’t permanent. Once the power is over, no harm, no foul. But this felt different. This felt like something that would linger, and change what it had touched.

  “What’s he doing?” and that was aloud.

  Jean-Claude’s voice breathed through my mind, “He is going to try to take us.”

  “What is he doing to the crowd?”

  “He’s trying to take us, all of us,” Auggie said, “and that’s too much power for the humans.”

  “He’ll own them,” I said.

  “No,” Jean-Claude said, “they are ours.” He didn’t try to fight for the minds of the crowd; he went straight for the source of our problem. He used the power of the three of us to smash into that mind.

  The power staggered, as if we’d hit him, then the sound of birds filled the theatre. Twittering, crying, fluttering; the sound of hundreds of birds. The sound was so real that I searched the theatre for the flock, but there was nothing to see.

  Nathaniel said, “I hear birds.”

  I didn’t have time to wonder why he could hear them, too, because the birds were upon us. Feathers everywhere, touching, beating at me, trying to get me to move, to run. Jean-Claude’s hand had a death grip on mine. Auggie’s fingers dug into my shoulder, and the pain helped. It helped chase back the beating wings. I remembered the last time that a vampire’s power had beat against my body like wings. Beat against me, not to frighten or make me run, but to be let inside. The power had cried in the dark, to be let inside me. Obsidian Butterfly, Master of the City of Albuquerque, had found her way inside me. She had filled my eyes with the blackness between suns, and the cold light of stars. She had also shared her power with me. That power came again, as if the touch of wings had called it.

  Auggie cursed under his breath, his hand desperate on my shoulder. Jean-Claude said, “Ma petite, do not…” But whatever I wasn’t to do he never said, because Obsidian Butterfly’s gift dropped my shields and cut me open for Merlin’s power. That metaphysical wind of wings and twittering calls poured inside me. The power poured inside me and I felt Merlin’s triumph like the scream of some huge bird of prey. He thought he’d broken my shields, broken our shields, but he was wrong.

  Jean-Claude and Auggie clung to me, trying to shore up what they, too, thought was a break in our power. But it wasn’t a breach, it was a mouth.

  It felt as if my body were a cave, a fleshy, soft cave, and the birds that I had heard and felt poured inside me, as if they’d found a home. I swear I could feel the brush of feathers, tiny bodies, fluttering, diving, filling me. Merlin’s power poured into me, and tried to find Jean-Claude and Auggie. The power tried to find a way out of me and into them. Merlin poured more and more power into me, and I swallowed it.

  Auggie and Jean-Claude clung to m
e, afraid to let go, afraid not to let go, I think. So much power, so much that it began to leak through into the other two vampires. The moment it touched them, they both understood. Merlin wasn’t going to break me, we were going to eat him.

  He must have figured it out at the same time, because he tried to stop the power, just cut it off. But I had the taste of him, and I didn’t want it to stop.

  The torrents of invisible birds slowed, but didn’t stop. Obsidian Butterfly’s power called to them, helped me know sweet words to use, to coax that power. The power kept coming, and I felt the flash of fear. It was sweet, and good, and I longed to taste the sweat on his skin. And I could, I licked down his skin, where he watched from the shadows.

  He stared at me with dark eyes that held crimson like a pinpoint tear inside them. I’d seen eyes like that before. Never were human, were you? I thought.

  He tried to break the contact, and he couldn’t do it. Not with Auggie and Jean-Claude hooked up to me. He was big and bad and powerful, but he was not a Master of the City. He was not two Masters of the City, and he didn’t know what the hell I was; in that moment neither did I.

  I smelled jasmine and rain. I smelled a tropical night that hadn’t existed for thousands on thousands of years. A voice rode the smell of rain. The Mother of All Darkness whispered, “I know what you are, necromancer.”

  I didn’t want to ask, but it was as if I couldn’t stop my mouth from forming the word. “What?”

  “Mine.”

  47

  I SCREAMED, AND I shut it down. I shut it all down. No more birds from Merlin. But in my panic, I shut down the tie with Auggie and Jean-Claude. For an instant, it was just me and her inside my head. I felt rain on my face, cool and warm. The moon rode full and bright, and I was too tall, and too male. I thought it was Jean-Claude’s memory, but the hand I could see was too rough, too dark. Whose memory was I trapped in?