Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter collection 11-15

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  It was a messy, dirty job to decapitate and take a heart. There were vampire executioners who quit after having to do it a few times, just didn’t have the stomach for it. Did I have the stomach for it? Yes. Would I let Olaf help me? Who the hell else would volunteer? Edward would do it if I asked, but truthfully, Olaf was better at taking the body apart. I guess practice makes perfect, and Olaf had had a lot of practice.

  Claudia asked again, “What do you mean he’s like an alcoholic?”

  “You tell her, Edward. I’m going to go check my paperwork.”

  “Not without guards, you aren’t,” he said.

  “Fine,” I said. “Send guards with me.”

  “Where is the paperwork?” he asked.

  “In my briefcase in Jean-Claude’s place.”

  “You can’t go to the Circus of the Damned without me, Anita.”

  “Or me,” Olaf said.

  “If I said ‘or me,’ would you get mad?” Peter said.

  I frowned at him. “Yes.”

  He grinned at me. He was entirely too pleased to be here with his guns and knives strapped to his body. He was even wearing a black T-shirt, but at least his jeans were blue, though his leather jacket was black. The boots were brown and looked like Edward’s, real cowboy boots, not boots you’d wear to go dancing like Olaf’s. Though the fact that I thought Olaf’s boots were club boots was probably a fact best kept to myself.

  “I have to vote with them,” Claudia said.

  “No one asked your opinion, woman,” Olaf said.

  “Let’s get this clear, right now,” I said. “Claudia is one of our officers. You don’t like it, I know that, but I trust her with my life.”

  “She nearly got you killed.”

  “Didn’t I end up in the hospital a couple of times in New Mexico, when you were supposed to be watching my back?”

  Anger flared across his face, thinning out his lips, making his eyes look even more cavernous.

  “Don’t bitch at Claudia, if you can’t do better.” The moment I said it, I knew I shouldn’t have.

  “I can do better than a woman.”

  “Shit,” I said.

  “Anita,” Claudia said.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Let me prove it.”

  I sighed. “As amusing as the thought of you and Olaf going at it is, please don’t. I know where the two bad vamps are, and I have current warrants of execution.”

  “How do you know where they are?” Edward asked.

  “I saw hotel stationery fall from a table in the vision. If they didn’t wake up and move their asses, we got ’em.” I looked at Olaf. “If you don’t slow me down by picking fights with my guards, then we get to kill two vampires today. They’re powerful enough that we’ll have to take their heads and hearts.”

  “Like we did in New Mexico,” he said, and there was an eager purr to that deep voice.

  I nodded, swallowing past a feeling that might have been nausea. “Yes.”

  “To hunt with you again, Anita, I will let this one believe what she likes.”

  I understood what a huge concession that was for Olaf. Claudia said, “I don’t believe it, big man, I know it.”

  “Claudia,” I said, “please, oh, hell, just don’t be around him, okay? He can’t seem to help how he feels about women. Just don’t crowd him and we’ll get this done, okay?”

  She didn’t like it, but she nodded.

  “Great. Edward, you fill in the guards on why Olaf isn’t to be alone with the women. I want to see Richard alive, not just in a vision. When you’re done telling everyone what a big, bad man he is, come find me, and you can drive me to the Circus of the Damned for the warrants.”

  “I don’t want you going out of my sight without guards, Anita.”

  “Jesus, Edward, it’s daylight.”

  “Yeah, and you know better than I do that master vamps have human servants, animals to protect them, and just plain human victims who will do anything they’re told.”

  I nodded, a little too fast, a little too often. “Fine, fine, you’re right. I’m tired, and I’m…oh, hell, just pick some guards so I can go see Richard.”

  I should have understood if he picked guards, who one of them would be. Just shadowing me to Richard’s hospital room was an easy job, a safe job, or should have been. I went for the far door with one bodyguard in front of me and one behind. The one bringing up the rear was Peter.

  30

  OUTSIDE RICHARD’S ROOM I had a fight with my guards. The other guard was Cisco, who was all of eighteen. I felt like a chaperone at a prom. But the fact that they were both still teenagers didn’t make them less stubborn. Hell, maybe it made them more stubborn.

  “Standing orders,” Cisco said, “are that you are not to go anywhere without at least one guard with you at all times.” He ran his hand through his carefully blond-tipped hair and frowned. He wasn’t happy.

  “I don’t need an audience to see my boyfriend.”

  “Orders are orders,” he said.

  I looked up at Peter. I still wasn’t used to having to look up at him. I’d visualized him over the phone as my size, with that brown hair cut in a standard short cut. But the brunette do was cut short but longer on top, not exactly a skater’s cut but close. It was more modern, more teenager, less little boy. I didn’t like it. “I need a little privacy, Peter, you understand that.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I’m not fourteen now, Anita.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m sympathetic, but not stupid. Edward gave the orders, and Claudia and Remus backed them up.”

  They were both young enough that I thought I might be able to embarrass them into letting me talk to Richard alone. “Fine, which of you wants to see me get all emotional with Richard?”

  They exchanged looks.

  “How emotional?” Cisco asked.

  “I don’t know, maybe I’ll cry, maybe we’ll have a fight. You never know with Richard and me.”

  Cisco spoke to Peter like I wasn’t there. “They are pretty weird around each other.”

  “Weird how?” Peter asked.

  “I am standing right here,” I said.

  Cisco looked at me with those big dark eyes. “You and Richard are like scary weird together as a couple; come on, it’s true.”

  I had to smile. “Scary weird, huh?”

  Cisco nodded.

  I sighed. “Fine, I guess so, but I would like privacy, come on. He almost died, and so did I.”

  “I’m sorry, Anita,” Cisco said. “I can’t do it. One of us has to be in the room with you.”

  “Don’t I have any seniority here?”

  “Claudia and Remus both made it really clear that if I fuck up again, I’m gone, like fired gone. I’m not going to fuck up again.”

  “What’d you do?” Peter asked, then actually blushed. “Sorry, sorry, not my business. Later.”

  Cisco nodded. “Later.”

  Cisco sniffed the air and turned toward the far end of the hallway. Soledad came around the corner. She saw us, and her face looked suddenly stricken. She dropped to all fours and started to crawl toward us. Not in that almost sexual way the lycanthropes could, but broken, as if it hurt her to move.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  Her voice came, as broken as her movements. “I shot Richard. I’m sorry.”

  “You shot Richard,” I said. I looked at Cisco.

  He shrugged and gave me a look as if to say, Yeah. “I think if she hadn’t shot him, he might have just torn Jean-Claude’s heart out.”

  “I’m sorry,” Soledad said. “I didn’t know what else to do.” She had stopped a few feet from us, her hand held out in the air, her head down. I’d seen a similar gesture among the lions. It was a way of asking to come closer when you were pretty sure the dominant in question didn’t like you.

  I’d been told that a guard shot Richard, and that it had saved Jean-Claude’s life, but no one had told me who had done
it. I stared at the woman holding out that hand, asking for forgiveness. She’d done her job, sort of. What would I have done in her place? Frozen. I wouldn’t have been able to shoot Richard to save Jean-Claude. I’d have frozen and Jean-Claude would have died. Which would have probably killed both Richard and me. Shit.

  “They took her weapons,” Cisco said, “until they review it all.”

  “Like when a cop is involved in a shooting,” I said.

  “A lot of us are ex-police now,” Cisco said, and he gave me a look, as if to say, Well, what are you going to do?

  What was I going to do? I sighed, hung my head, and started forward. Why was it that in the middle of every crisis I always seemed to be babysitting someone’s emotions? Usually someone who was dangerous, armed, or should have been some kind of tough guy, or girl. The monsters were a lot softer than they seemed.

  I went to her and gave her my left hand. Most people did it like they were shaking hands, but I kept my gun hand free; just habit. Soledad made a sound like a sob as she gripped my hand. I had a moment to feel how terribly strong she was as she crawled close enough to put her face against my hand. She rubbed her cheeks against my hand and lower arm, and murmured, “Thank you, thank you, Anita. I’m so sorry, so sorry.” Her tears were cool against my skin. Funny, tears were always colder than blood; shouldn’t they both feel the same? Her power flared across my skin like a giant’s breath, so hot, and so everywhere. Any strong emotion can undo a shapeshifter’s control.

  She drew a shuddering sob and threw herself around my waist, her long arms clutching me. She was practically wailing. “I didn’t know what else to do with Richard….”

  “It’s okay, Soledad, it’s okay.” I patted her hair and started to turn in her arms. I didn’t know her well enough to be this up close and personal, and the emotional content was a little much for near strangers. Hell, I wouldn’t have wanted this much emotional content from close friends. I had actually turned around, with her hands only lightly on me, when she moved. She grabbed me around the waist, lifted me in front of her face and chest, and I blocked the clawed hand that had gone for my throat with my arm. Claws dug into my side just below the ribs. The pain was sharp and immediate, and I suddenly had two goals. I strained to keep her hand from my throat and gripped her wrist at my waist to keep her from slicing open my belly.

  Her voice growled from behind me, “I’m sorry you have to die, Anita.”

  31

  CISCO AND PETER both had their guns out. I’d have loved to go for a gun or a knife, but wrestling the weretiger took both my hands. She wasn’t trying that hard to close on my throat, and the hand at my belly was almost immobile except for the fact that the hooked claws she’d conjured from her skin had pierced my side.

  She called to the boys, “Don’t yell for help or she’s dead. I don’t want her dead. Just let me leave with her and I won’t hurt her.”

  “You’ve already hurt her, I can smell the blood,” Cisco said. His gun was very steady on us, but she’d taken all his kill shots. If they only wounded her, she would have time to kill me before they could kill her.

  “A little prick, that’s all. She likes pricks, don’t you, Anita?”

  My voice was a little strained from keeping her hand from my throat. The claws weren’t as big as they seemed, they only looked huge because the human flesh didn’t cover the bone of the tiger claw. But they were plenty big enough to tear out my throat. I might survive the gut wound, but the throat would be fatal. I managed to say through gritted teeth, “If you’re going to kill me, do it, but don’t make fun of me, too.”

  She laughed, a throaty sound. Her power flared, hot, so hot, almost burning. Hot liquid burst over my back and hair. My first thought was blood, but I knew better. It was that clear liquid that shifters lost when they changed. When the change was smooth it was like heated water; when it wasn’t smooth it was gelatinous and chunky. This flowed like water. She never hesitated, or stumbled, as her body re-formed around me. Fur and muscle flowed under my hands. Her power ran over my body like biting insects, so much power, it hurt. Had she thought I’d panic and let go? She had the wrong girl for panic. I kept my grip on her as fur replaced bare skin. I didn’t let go even as my skin danced and jerked as if she’d laid a live wire against me. Jesus, the control she had, to be able to shift this smoothly. She was better than Micah, and that was saying something. It would have been impressive if I hadn’t been wondering how close her new fangs were to my spine. Part of me noticed that her fur was the wrong color. She was striped pale lemon gold and white. Weren’t tigers orange and black? If I lived, I’d ask someone.

  “You’re one of the Harlequin’s animals to call,” Cisco said.

  She growled, “Yes.”

  “You’ll never make it out of here if you hurt Anita,” Cisco said.

  “She knows where my mistress rests in the day; I can’t let her share that knowledge, can I, Cisco?”

  He flinched at her using his name. Always harder to kill someone you know.

  “Because if your master dies, you die.” Peter said it. He was pointing his gun at the floor, as if he knew he didn’t have a shot he could take. Remus had told me that Cisco had some of the highest scores on the gun range of any guard. I was about to bet my life on his skill.

  Her hand strained toward my neck again, and I put a lot of effort into holding it off. Her arm was a steady push; mine was shaking. “You belong to Mercia,” I said.

  “No,” she growled, and eased a few sliding steps backward. Cisco and Peter moved the same space forward. It was like an awkward dance.

  “Nivia,” I said.

  “How do you know the names?”

  “Does it matter?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Tell me who’s talked to you.”

  “Jesus, Soledad, don’t make me do this,” Cisco said.

  Soledad stopped whispering to me and called to Cisco, “You’re a good shot, Cisco, but are you that good? Are you sure you’re that good?”

  It was plain on his face that in that moment he wasn’t sure. I guess I wouldn’t have been either. I’d have given a great deal for Edward in that moment. Or Remus, or Claudia.

  Peter said, “What’s the rule?”

  Cisco almost glanced at him, but remembered and kept his eyes on us, his gun steady, but he didn’t have a killing shot and he knew it. Soledad began to back down the hallway with me in her arms. Just a few steps, but slow and steady.

  Cisco and Peter moved with us. Cisco had his gun pointed, but frankly he was as likely to hit me as the weretiger. No, more likely. Peter’s gun was still pointed at the floor. He didn’t seem to know what to do.

  Peter said, “The rule is that if they have a weapon and want to take you someplace else, it’s so they can kill you slower.” His voice was almost a monotone, as if he were reciting.

  I thought I understood what he meant. I hoped I did, because I was about to encourage him. “You’re right, Peter,” I said.

  He looked up. His eyes met mine. Cisco said, “God.” I threw my head back, used all that long hair to cover her eyes for a second. Peter dropped to one knee and shot at her legs. The shots reverberated in the hallway. Soledad dropped abruptly to her knees, but claws curled deeper inside me, her other hand trying for my throat for real this time. I made a choice. I let go of the wrist at my stomach and used both hands to keep her from tearing out my throat. Two-handed to her one and I was losing. She clawed at my side and stomach. It felt like she’d hit me with a baseball bat, so much damage, like a blow. It stole my breath, or I’d have screamed.

  Cisco and Peter were there, standing over us. There still wasn’t a clear shot. She tried to crawl backward on her wounded legs, while I held on to her hand, and held it a fraction away from my throat. Cisco was still trying to find a shot. Peter threw himself onto us, he just jumped us, and we were all on the ground with her underneath us. She stopped trying for my throat and reached for Peter. I was suddenly trying to wrestle her hand away
from him instead of me. Her hand wasn’t on my stomach anymore. Peter’s body reacted as if something hurt. But I kept her off his throat. It was all I could do. I had a moment of being pressed between them, and then the gunshots exploded just behind my head. It was insanely loud that close to me. I kept my grip on her as the inside of my head rocked with the sound of gunfire beside it. Her body jerked, and still she tried for my throat again. The change of angle startled me, and she might have nicked me, but I didn’t feel it.

  Peter kept firing; his gun must have been pressed into her head. We ended up on the ground in a breathless, deaf heap. He was up on one arm, his gun still shoved into her face. Peter’s T-shirt was in rags over his stomach. Cisco was above us; his lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear him. I rolled free of the pile. I had my gun out and pointed before my back hit the wall, before I could truly see what was happening.

  Soledad’s head was a red mass. There was no face left. Brains were leaking all over the floor, her brains. Even for a weretiger, this was dead. Peter was still over the body, his gun pumping into that mass of tissue. I think he was dry-firing by now, but I couldn’t hear well enough to say. Cisco knelt beside him, his lips moving, but I couldn’t make out the words. He got Peter to stop firing into the body, then tried to ease Peter off her. Peter let him ease him back onto his knees, then Peter popped his empty magazine out, put it in his left jacket pocket, got a spare clip out of his right-hand pocket, and reloaded. His stock was pretty high with me right then; the reload made it go higher. Maybe we wouldn’t get him killed.

  Cisco tried to get him to stand up and move away from the body. I think Cisco was worried about how Peter would react when the shock wore off. It made me think better of Cisco. Then a lot of things happened at once. I couldn’t hear it, but I must have seen movement out of the corner of my eye, because I turned to see Edward and company come barreling down the hallway, guns drawn. The door to Richard’s room was open, and he was leaning in it. His beautiful chest was a mass of scars on one side. He was pale as death, and looked as if the only thing keeping him upright was the doorway. The scars showed where the bullets had taken a chunk out of all that nice muscled flesh. Sometimes silver scars. He mouthed something, but I still couldn’t hear anything but the ringing silence in my own head. Gunshot too close to the ear. I’d be lucky if my hearing wasn’t permanently damaged.