Danse Macabre ab-14

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  "I need advice, Samuel, advice from another Master of the City."

  "What could I possibly advise you on? You are a sourdre de sang. I am but an ordinary Master of the City."

  "I crave your wisdom, not your power."

  The two of them stared at each other, and neither face showed a damn thing. Note to self, never play poker with master vamps. "I am always glad to share my wisdom with my friends."

  "I need your trust, as well, Samuel."

  "Friends must always trust each other."

  I had a moment to wonder if "friends" meant for them what it had meant for Augustine and Jean-Claude. Not the time to ask.

  "I trusted you tonight, Samuel, but Thea tried to force herself, and your Thomas, on my human servant. That is not the way a trusted friend be­haves."

  "I can only give you my deepest apologies, Jean-Claude. Thea is some­times overly enthusiastic in her pursuit of our sons' powers."

  Sampson and I both laughed at the same time. The vampires looked at us. "Sorry," I said, "but I think you're understating it."

  "Mother, overly enthusiastic in pursuit of her children's destiny," Samp­son laughed again, shaking his head.

  Samuel frowned at him. Then he sighed and turned back to Jean-Claude. "Once I helped you, not for money, but because Augustine was my friend, and he asked a favor."

  "Your ship was my escape to the new world," Jean-Claude said.

  I remembered Auggie, in Jean-Claude's memory, saying something about a ship and a captain he trusted. Had that been Samuel?

  "I propose that we put aside mistrust, and speak plainly. I propose that we act as true friends and not adversaries."

  "All master vampires are adversaries," Jean-Claude said.

  Samuel smiled. "You speak what you have been told, not what you be­lieve." He looked at Asher. "He is master enough to have his own territory, but he stays with you out of love. You do not fear each other."

  "No, but you and I have never been close in the way of lovers."

  Samuel waved his hand in the air as if Jean-Claude had missed his point. "I do not covet your lands. Do you covet mine?"

  Jean-Claude smiled. "No."

  "I do not covet your lady, do you covet mine?"

  Jean-Claude shook his head. "No."

  "We have different animals to call, so that cannot even be shared. We are no threat to each other, Jean-Claude, our powers are too different. Let us help each other, and leave off this game playing. Let us come in honesty and friendship."

  Jean-Claude gave one brief nod. "Agreed." Then he gave a wide smile. "You first."

  Samuel laughed, sudden and wide enough to flash fangs. It was an echo of Sampson's laughter, as if when human he'd been even more like his son.

  The thought made me wonder: if I was pregnant, who would the baby be like? Would it be a little carbon copy of someone? Would there be a little

  Jean-Claude running around? The thought of a baby was terrifying, but the thought of a little living version of Jean-Claude wasn't horrible. I shook my head, hard enough that they all looked at me.

  "What is wrong, ma petite?"

  "Sorry, thinking too hard. Maybe I've never seen master vamps talk about honesty and friendship. Takes some getting used to."

  Samuel smiled at me. "I suppose for the Executioner, it would be a very alien concept."

  I shook my head. "No, as Jean-Claude's human servant, that is where it gets weird. As the Executioner I just kill people, I don't talk to them."

  He looked at me with those brown-green eyes, a long, considering look. He turned the look back to Jean-Claude. "I think we can help each other, Jean-Claude. I will begin." He gave a long sigh. "When Sampson said that Thea does not think like a human, he is quite right. She is the last of the sirens, and it preys upon her mind. She sees the promise of power in our boys, and she is determined that it be brought out." Samuel hesitated, and even through centuries of control he seemed uncomfortable. "Thea comes from a time and a people where close family relationships were not a hin­drance to sex, or even marriage. Her people were worshipped as gods and goddesses. Are you familiar with the Greek mythos?"

  "Anyone who is classically educated is familiar with the myths," Jean-Claude said.

  "You're making this a long story, Father."

  Samuel looked at him. "I admit that now that the time has come to be honest, I am having second thoughts."

  Sampson touched his father's hand. "Let me, then."

  He shook his head. "No, I am master, and father, and I will do it." He looked back at Jean-Claude. "Thea tried to bring Sampson into his powers as a siren."

  Jean-Claude and I just blinked at him. Richard was lost, because we hadn't given him the whole story about how sirens come into their power. Or had we? I couldn't remember anymore. I was the one who said, "Do you mean that your wife tried to seduce your son?"

  He nodded. "Sampson came to me, and I told her, in no uncertain terms, that if she ever tried to do it again I would kill her. When the twins began to exhibit faint signs of power, I gave her the talk again."

  "Would you truly slay her?" Jean-Claude asked.

  The polite mask dropped, and Samuel's eyes blazed for a second, before he lowered his eyes, and hid the anger. "I love my wife, but I love my sons, and they are children and cannot protect themselves against her."

  "In my mother's defense," Sampson said, "when I said no, she took no for an answer. She didn't have to. I'm her son, but I'm not a siren yet; if she'd pushed her powers, then I wouldn't have had a choice. She stopped when she realized I was horrified. She didn't understand why it bothered me, but she accepted it."

  Richard and I exchanged glances, and for the first time I think we were both thinking, Gee, it could be worse. That there was a vampire out there sex­ually more disturbing than Jean-Claude and Belle Morte. EEEK!

  "I fear," Samuel said, "that Thea's restraint will not be perfect. The twins are seventeen, old enough to marry, old enough for much. I fear that she will be tempted to push with them, and they are not as strong of will as Samp­son. It might take less to cloud their minds and lusts."

  "And would you do as you threatened?" Jean-Claude asked. "Even if the sex were to make them full sirens?" His face and voice were back to being very neutral.

  "They would come into their powers, but I am not certain that their san­ity would survive it. Can you imagine someone with Thea's powers, or even more powerful because of my bloodline, but mad, completely broken in the mind? I do not wish to be forced to either imprison or kill my own child, Jean-Claude, and that is what we might have to do." He shook his head, and the worry on his face was like scars, so deep, as if he had carried this burden for a very long time.

  "It would be a terrible choice," Jean-Claude said.

  Samuel gathered himself, and his face was back to being neutral, hail-fellow-well-met, boy-next-door-handsome. "But if we can find a way to bring them into their powers without Thea being involved, then the choices are not horrible. The choices are wonderous, powerful, and I would be in your debt."

  "It is by no means certain that sex with ma petite will do for your sons what you wish."

  I opened my mouth to protest that I hadn't agreed to sex with any of them, but he squeezed my hand, as if, wait.

  "Perhaps not, but I believe that I could convince Thea that if Anita could not make them full sirens, none could, not even Thea herself. If Anita tries and fails, then I believe that Thea would accept that they are not sirens."

  Jean-Claude looked at me, then. "If you have questions, ma petite, Richard, now is the time for them."

  Richard said, "Did you say seventeen?"

  Samuel nodded.

  Richard looked at me, and the look was eloquent.

  "I've already turned them down as too young, Richard. You don't need the look, thanks." I took my hand out of his, because I hadn't deserved the look he gave me.

  "But you'll fuck Sampson."

  I stood up, letting go of both of them, and stared down at h
im. "Apolo­gize to me, Richard. Apologize to me, now."

  Embarrassment was on his face, but so was anger. "I shouldn't have said it, and I'm sorry I said it, but don't expect me to be happy that you're adding another man to your list of lovers. I'm not going to be happy about it, Anita, I'm just not."

  "Do I ask how many women you've slept with this week?"

  "No, but you don't have to meet them, either."

  I couldn't argue that. "Fine, you're right. It would probably bug me to meet your dates." I threw my hands up in the air. "Damn it, Richard, do you have an opinion on this that isn't based on jealousy?"

  He looked down, then got up from the couch, and paced away to the edge of the carpet. "All I can see when I look at Sampson is that he's not bad look­ing, and he's about my height, and ... I don't want you fucking him. But then I don't want you fucking anyone but me, so—" He spread his hands wide, and shrugged.

  "Have I raised a sore point?" Samuel asked.

  "An ongoing disagreement," Jean-Claude said.

  "If this is a problem," Sampson said, "then forget it. We were under the impression that everyone was okay with Anita adding to her list of men."

  Richard crossed his arms across his chest, and said, "And if we don't do this, because I'm not happy about it, and your mother ..." He closed his eyes, his face struggling with so many emotions. "God help me, but you and your brothers are actually in a more perverted sexual mess than we are. If I say no, and the worst happens..." He paced the edge of the white carpet as if the walls were still there. "I don't want to watch, but it has to be Anita's call. I won't say no. Neither of us is monogamous, so why should I bitch?" He stood there arms crossed, shoulders hunched as if something hurt.

  "Anita," Samuel said.

  I looked at him, still standing. I sighed. "I'd rather not add to my list of men either, truthfully, but as Jean-Claude has explained to me, I need a new pomme de sang sooner rather than later. I'm not promising, but I'll agree to try." I couldn't look at anyone when I said it, because it felt squeechy. To agree to try to take another lover, in front of three men I was already sleep­ing with.

  "Good," Samuel said, and there was such relief in that one word that I

  looked at him. He was smiling, his eyes sparkling with happiness, and tears. Unshed tears glittered in his eyes. In that moment I realized that he had ac­cepted that his wife would seduce one of their sons, and he would kill her, and the son would be mad, and he would have to kill him, and... too Oedi-pal for words. Samuel had accepted that someday the worst would happen, and suddenly he was saved. He looked like a man who had thought the exe­cutioner was coming, and the governor called instead.

  I still wasn't sure how I felt about adding to my men, but it was nice, for a change, to be someone's salvation instead of their doom. Yeah, being the savior instead of the executioner, that sounded pretty damn good.

  14

  SAMUEL SMILED AT Jean-Claude, and it was like a lot about Samuel, a very human smile. I realized that he, like Auggie, could be more "normal" than most vamps I'd ever seen. Was it a vamp trick like Auggie's had been? Maybe. Was it any of my business to mess with it, and reveal his secret? Nope. No more grand revelations tonight, not that were my fault anyway. I wasn't messing with anyone or anything tonight if I could help it. My goal was simply to get through the rest of this interview without anything bad happening. Why was I so worried? I'd sat back down beside Jean-Claude, but Richard hadn't. Richard was still standing, arms folded, shoulders rounded as if with pain. I knew the look on his face, it was the look that usu­ally meant we were going to have a really bad fight. I didn't want to fight tonight, not with anyone, but especially not with Richard.

  Jean-Claude touched my hand. It made me jump, and turn startled to him. "What is wrong, ma petite?"

  I gave him a look, and rolled my eyes back to our other third. "Ah," he said.

  I gripped Jean-Claude's hand tight, and tried to head this fight off. "Richard?" I made his name a question.

  He turned those smoldering brown eyes to me. "What?" That one word was so angry that even he flinched. "I'm sorry, what is it, Anita?"

  "You don't have to pick a fight with me to leave." There, that was as hon­ est and as calm as I could make it.

  He frowned at me. "What does that mean?"

  "It means that ever since we started talking to Samuel about his sons and their problem, your tension level has done nothing but rise."

  "And if we were talking about me having sex with three new women, two of them seventeen years old, wouldn't you be angry?"

  I thought about it, then nodded. "Yes."

  "Then don't expect me to be happy about it."

  "What am I supposed to do, Richard, apologize? I wouldn't even be sure

  what I was apologizing about. Anyway, I've told you that my answer was no on the seventeen-year-old."

  "I think, Jean-Claude, Sampson and I will leave you all for the night." Samuel stood. "You seem to have much to discuss."

  Sampson stood alongside his fadier. He was about two inches taller dian Samuel, as if he'd gained height from his motJier's genetics. I wondered what else he might have gained. I really didn't know much about mermaids, or sirens. I probably needed to remedy that before I got too up close and per­sonal with any of them.

  "Not yet, my friend, please," Jean-Claude said. He looked at Richard, giv­ing a peaceful face to die unhappy one. "We need some riddles answered be­fore we dare take ma petite among our brethren tomorrow night."

  Samuel nodded, and sat back down. "You're wondering, if you take her among nearly a dozen Masters of the City, whether the night will be even more interesting than this one."

  Jean-Claude nodded. "Exactement."

  "Are these questions that only a vampire can answer?" Sampson asked.

  "It is from a master like your father that I need advice," Jean-Claude said.

  "Then, I could go back to the hotel and check on Mother and die twins."

  "I think they have enough watchdogs, Sampson," his father said.

  Sampson gave his father a look like he was trying to say something with his eyes, and his father wasn't getting it.

  "You're leaving because you think it will make me less upset," Richard said.

  Sampson looked at him, with that open, honest face, and nodded.

  "That's ..." Richard's face struggled with his emotions, because a friendly gesture, honesdy given, always touched him. "That's really ... good of you."

  "You obviously don't like sharing Anita, and now here I am asking you to share her again. We need her to help us. I don't want to lose my modier and one, or both, of my little brothers." Sampson shook his head, eyes staring off into space, but not seeing anything in this room. The look in his eyes was haunted as if he, like his father, had given up on avoiding the tragedy. As if he'd been picturing it all in his head for months, trying to make peace with it, and failing.

  He looked up at Richard. "I won't give up this chance to save my family, but I am sorry that it's causing you pain." He came out into the middle of the room, facing Richard. "If my going will make you feel better, I can do that."

  Richard hung his head, his newly long hair hiding most of his face. When

  he raised it again he looked like a man coming out of deep water, shaking his hair back from his face. "Insult to injury, damn it."

  "Did I say something wrong?" Sampson asked.

  "No, nothing wrong," Richard said. He sighed, and his arms started to unfold, stiffly, as if it hurt him to let go of the anger. "No, I just didn't want to like you."

  Sampson looked puzzled. "I don't understand."

  "If I can hate you, I can get angry, and storm out. If you'd acted like some kind of lustful asshole, I could have just gone. Wrapped my injured right­eousness around me, and gotten the hell out of here."

  I stood up and faced him; Jean-Claude kept my hand lightly in his. "I've already told you, Richard," I said, "you don't have to pick a fight to leave."

  "Yes," he said,
"I do. Because I know that I cripple us as a power by sim­ ply not being here when you need me. If I'd been here, Auggie wouldn't have rolled you. I have no one but myself to blame that you and Jean-Claude fucked Auggie." His voice held the edge of warmth, and the first bite of his power flickered through the room.

  I took a few steps, leaving Jean-Claude's hand behind. "Why are you re­sponsible for everything?" I asked. "I deal with more undead than you do; I should have been able to protect myself. And maybe I should have seen it coming, but I'm not beating myself up about it. It happened, and now we deal with it."

  "Is it really that easy for you, Anita? It happened, now we deal with it, we move on?"

  I thought about it, then nodded. "Yes, it is, because it has to be. My life wouldn't work if I wallowed in every disaster, every moral quandary. I can't afford the luxury of self-doubt, not to that degree."

  "Luxury," Richard said. "This isn't luxury, Anita, it's morality. It's your conscience. That's not a luxury item, that's what separates us from the animals."

  Here we go again, I thought. Out loud I said, "I have a conscience, Richard, and my own set of morals. Do I ever worry that I'm a bad guy? Yeah, some­ times I do. Do I wonder if I've traded away pieces of my soul, just to survive? Yeah." I shrugged. "It's the price of doing business in the real world, Richard."

  "This isn't the real world, Anita. This isn't the normal workaday world."

  "No, but it's our world." I was facing him now, almost close enough to touch. He was controlling himself, because his power was only a warm pres­sure in the air.

  He waved his hands around the room. "This is not where I want to be, Anita. I don't want to live where my choices are sharing you with other men, or having people die. I don't want those choices."