“What?” I asked.
“You’ve seen me naked, or almost. We’ve been up close and very personal.” He sighed. “And you didn’t look at me like that.”
“Jealous?” I asked.
He seemed to think about that for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, I think I am.”
Asher laughed and it was touchable, caressable, like a feather trailing down your skin held by a knowledgeable hand. “In that smooth, perfect body, in the full bloom of your youth, alive and breathing, and you are jealous of me. How lovely.”
A knock on the door saved us from further discussion. I drew the Browning and put my back to the wall near the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Verne.”
I parted the drape and looked out. He seemed to be alone. I opened the door and ushered him inside. The moment his back was to me, I pressed the gun barrel into his back and kicked the door closed.
He froze. “What’s up?” he asked.
“You tell us,” I said.
“Anita,” Asher said.
“No, he’s the Ulfric. He’s supposed to have his pack under solid control.”
I felt his ribs expand through the gun barrel. “I can smell the shit in the carpet, the sheets. Colin pay a visit?”
I shoved the barrel tight enough into his back to leave a bruise. “He left a present.”
“He gave us one of his presents once,” Verne said. “I know what I’m smelling in here because I held Erin’s hand while he rotted to death.”
“Why should I believe you?” I asked.
“If you have a problem with Colin’s people, why pull a gun on me?”
“One of your wolves lured Nathaniel away and delivered him to the vampires.”
Again I felt the movement through the gun barrel as he turned his head to look at the bed. “Why isn’t he dead?”
“That’s our business,” I said.
He nodded. “Which of my wolves delivered your cat to Colin?”
“Mira,” I said.
“Shit,” he said. “I knew she was pissed that Richard had stopped seeing her, but I never thought she’d go over to the vampires.”
Asher walked to us. “By rules of hospitality, you can be held responsible for the actions of your pack.”
“What can I do to make up for this breach of protocol?” The words sounded way too formal for Verne’s down-home drawl.
I leaned into him because the gun couldn’t get any closer without going into his body. Had to make my point somehow. “How do I know you didn’t tell her to do it?”
“I told you what he did to Erin. Colin said we were getting above ourselves, forgetting that vampires are more powerful than any animal. How the hell did you cure your leopard?”
“His name’s Nathaniel,” I said.
Verne took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “How did you cure Nathaniel?”
I flicked my eyes past Verne’s body to Asher. He gave the slightest of nods, and I backed up enough steps that I’d be out of reach in case Verne was upset about the gun. But I kept the gun pointed at him, because I was still closer than ten feet. Even a normal man armed with just a knife can close that distance quicker than most people can upholster a gun.
“At great risk to ourselves,” Asher said.
“How?” Verne asked. He moved towards the bed as if I was of no importance.
Asher told him how we’d healed Nathaniel.
“And neither of you were poisoned by it?” Verne asked.
“Damian was affected,” Asher said.
Verne searched the room. “You mean the red-haired vampire?”
Asher nodded.
“I can hear him in the bathroom. He should be dead.”
“Yes, he should be,” Asher said.
Verne turned and looked at me then. “Our vargamor said she felt your power tonight. Said you conjured up some sort of spell.”
“I don’t know the term vargamor,” I said.
“A pack’s wise woman or wise man, a witch usually, but not always. Sometimes just a psychic. Most packs don’t bother with them anymore. How did you save the vampire once he started to rot?”
I holstered the Browning. One, I couldn’t keep the gun naked in my hands forever; two, I was beginning to believe Verne. “I’m a necromancer, Verne. Damian’s a vampire. I healed him.”
His eyes narrowed. “Just like that?”
I laughed. “No, not just like that. We damn near didn’t save him, but we did it.”
“Could you cure one of my people?”
“Did Colin do one of your people tonight?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, but if we stand with you against him, he will.”
“Why would you stand with us on this?” I asked.
“Because I hate that bloodsucking son of a bitch.”
“If that’s true, then Mira broke pack law,” Jason said.
Verne nodded. “Normally, I’d kick her ass. She disobeyed me, but she injured you. Your grievence takes precedence.” He glanced at Asher, then at me, as if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure who to ask permission of. “What can my pack do to make this right between us?”
I looked at him, head to one side. I didn’t like the idea that one of his wolves had betrayed Nathaniel. It made me not trust him. But I understood why Mira was pissed. Richard had dumped her. A woman scorned and all that.
“First, delay the greeting ceremony,” I said. “We’re going to be ass deep in vampires; there won’t be time for anything else tonight.”
Verne nodded. “Done.”
“And I want Mira’s head in a basket,” I said.
“We need a place to meet Colin,” Asher said.
“Our lupanar is ready for company,” Verne said.
“Most generous,” Asher said.
It was generous. Maybe too generous. “You understand that we aren’t going to kill Colin for this. That whatever happens tonight—unless he attacks us, forces us to defend ourselves—we’ll be leaving in a few days, and Colin will still be Master of the City.”
“You mean if I help you hurt him, he may hold a grudge?” Verne said.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Erin was a good kid. He wasn’t even one of the young ones that had gone up against the vampires. They picked him because he was one of my wolves.”
“Nathaniel said that Mira had been paid to bring one of our animals to Colin,” I said.
“It sounds like him.” Verne’s hands balled into fists, and his power moved through the cabin like a line of heat. “I’ve wanted him to pay for what happened to Erin for ten years, but I haven’t had the power to go up against him.”
“You don’t want him dead?” I asked, and I sounded surprised.
“Colin, for the most part, leaves us alone. But better yet, he can’t call wolves. If we kill him, a new master will move in, maybe one that can control wolves. Maybe one that is a bigger, meaner son of a bitch. Dead would be great, but not until I know what it would cost my pack.”
“The devil you know or the devil you don’t,” I said.
Verne looked at me for a second, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Great,” I said, “let’s turn up the fire under this particuliar devil and roast his cojónes.”
For one of the few times on this trip, everyone seemed to be in agreement. I was used to killing vampires, not punishing them, because I’d learned a long time ago that you either killed monsters or left them the fuck alone. Once you pull on their tail, metaphorically speaking, you’re just never quite sure how they’re going to react. Sorry, cancel that. I knew exactly how Colin would react. The question was how much blood would be spilled and could we possibly pull this off without getting some of our people killed. I didn’t give a damn if we killed some of Colin’s people, in fact, I was sort of looking forward to it.
17
I WALKED THROUGH a world of silvered moon shadows and the black outlines of trees. The boots were low-heeled enough and they fit well enough that they actually weren
’t bad for walking through the woods. It wasn’t the fit of anything that made it uncomfortable to be out in the woods; it was the heat and the noise. There was sweat at the bend of my knees underneath the nylons and the leather. I’d added a leather jacket, borrowed from Jason. The jacket hid the mini-Uzi and the big leather purse I had slung over one shoulder. The purse was Cherry’s and had a can of aerosol hair spray in it. I had a golden lighter in the pocket of the jacket. The lighter belonged to Asher. It was too hot to be wearing the jacket.
All that leather crinkled and sighed every time I moved. Under other circumstances, it might have been interesting; as it was, it was irritating. Important safety tip: Don’t try to sneak up on people in new leather. At least not people with supernatural hearing. Of course, we weren’t sneaking up on anybody tonight. The vampires knew we were coming.
Verne’s people had delivered the message. Once Richard arrived on the scene, my suspicious nature was ignored. If Verne said he told the vamps where to meet and why, then of course Richard believed him. Truthfully, so did I, but it still bugged me how easily Richard accepted Verne’s word.
Of course, Richard had been visiting with Verne’s pack for several years every summer. He knew them as friends. I respected friendship; I just didn’t always trust it. Okay, I didn’t trust other people’s friends. I trusted my own, because I trusted my own judgment. Which meant, I guess, that I still didn’t trust Richard’s judgment. No, I didn’t.
Thinking of him was enough. I could feel him off to my left like a warm presence moving through the summer night. I had a moment of feeling him walking. I could feel the rhythm of his body as he moved. I was almost dizzy, stumbling, as I pulled away from the image.
Zane took my arm. “You all right?”
I nodded and pulled away. I didn’t know him that well yet. If I had a choice, I wasn’t that touchy-feely with people I didn’t know. But the moment I pulled away, I felt him shrink back. I knew without any magic at all that I’d hurt his feelings. I was his Nimir-ra, his leopard queen, and I was supposed to like him, or at least not dislike him. I didn’t know whether apologizing would make it worse or better, so I said nothing.
Zane moved off through the woods, leaving me to myself. He was wearing the leather pants, vest, and boots he’d worn on the plane. Funny how Zane’s personal wardrobe was just fine for tonight.
Richard stopped moving and stared at me across the yards that separated us. He was dressed all in black: leather pants and a silk shirt that clung to his new, improved, muscular upper body. He’d been lifting weights since Jean-Claude last measured him for shirts. He stood there all in black, a color I’d never seen him in. The moonlight was strong enough that I could see his face in bold highlights; only the eyes were lost to shadow, as if he were blind. Even from here, I could feel him like a line of heat in my body.
Earlier, Asher had made things in my body go low and tight. But now, standing in the hot, summer woods, watching the gleam of moonlight reflecting off the silk and leather on Richard’s body, seeing his hair slide like a soft cloud around his shoulders, it made my chest tight, closer to tears than to lust, because he wasn’t mine anymore. Whether I liked it or not, whether I wanted it or not, I would always regret not having been with Richard. I’d had other opportunities in the past for being with other guys in intimate settings, but I’d never regretted saying no before. In fact, I always felt like I’d dodged a bullet. Only Richard made me regret.
He started walking towards me. It made me look away as if we’d been at a resturant or something, and I’d been caught staring at my ex. I remembered a night just after college when I’d been in a resturant with some friends, and seen my ex-fiancé with his new girlfriend. He’d walked towards us as if he’d introduce me to her. I’d fled to the ladies’ room and hid out until one of my girlfriends came and told me the coast was clear. Four years ago, I’d run for cover because he had dumped me and didn’t seem to miss me. Now I stood my ground but not because I had dumped Richard. I stood my ground because my pride wouldn’t let me hurry away through the trees and pretend I hadn’t run away. I wasn’t much into running lately.
So I stood there in the silvered dark, my heart beating in my throat, and waited for him to come to me.
Jamil and Shang-Da stood together in the dark, watching but not following him, as if he’d told them to stay put. Even from here, I could tell Shang-Da didn’t like it. As far as I could see, Shang-Da hadn’t changed clothes. He was still in his all-black, totally monochromed tailored suit, shirt, and accessories.
Richard came to stand about two feet in front of me. He just looked down at me and said nothing. I couldn’t read his expression, and I didn’t want to read his mind again.
I broke first, babbling. “I’m sorry about that, Richard. I didn’t mean to invade you like that. I’m not very good at controlling the marks yet.”
“That’s all right,” he said. Why is it that voices in the dark can sound so much more intimate?
“You okay with Asher’s plan for tonight?” I asked, more for something to say while he stared down at me than for anything else.
Verne had learned through Mira that Colin believed that Asher was his replacement. Both masters were of an equivalent age. Colin was more powerful, but much of that extra power could have been from the ties that made him Master of the City. It was the first time I’d ever been told that just being Master of the City gave you extra power. Live and learn.
“I understand that Asher has to convince Colin that he doesn’t want the job,” Richard said.
Asher had decided that the way to do that was to convince Colin he was infatuated with me and with Jean-Claude. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the plan, really. But we all agreed, even Richard, that the local vamps wouldn’t believe that ties of friendship and nostalgia made Asher happy where he was. Vampires are like people in one respect, they’ll believe a sexual explanation before an innocent one. Even death doesn’t change the human trait of being willing to believe the worst of a person rather than the best.
“It’s none of my business what you do or who you do it with, remember?” His voice was a great deal more neutral than his words.
“I was embarrassed in the bathroom. You caught me off guard.”
“I remember,” I said. He shook his head. “If we’re supposed to flaunt our power tonight, that means we need to use the marks.”
“Mira told them that you were interviewing new lupas. They know we’re not an item,” I said.
“We don’t have to show them domestic bliss, Anita, just power.” He held out his hand to me.
I stared at it. The last time he’d led me through summer woods had been the night he killed Marcus. The night when everything had gone wrong.
“I don’t think I can take another stroll through the woods, Richard.”
His hand closed into a fist. “I know I handled it badly that night, Anita. You’d never seen me shapeshift, and I shifted on top of you, while you couldn’t get away. I’ve thought about that. I couldn’t have chosen a worse way to introduce you to what I was. I know that now, and I’m sorry I scared you.”
Scared didn’t quite cover it, but I didn’t say it out loud. He was apologizing, and I was going to accept it. “Thank you, Richard. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just . . .”
“Couldn’t handle it,” he said.
I sighed. “Couldn’t handle it.”
He held his hand out to me. “I’m sorry, Anita.”
“Me, too, Richard.”
He gave a small smile. “No magic, Anita, just your hand in mine.”
I shook my head. “No, Richard.”
“Afraid?” he asked.
I stared up at him. “When we need to draw the marks, we can touch; but not here, not now.”
He reached up to touch my face, and I heard the silk of his shirt rip. He lowered his arm and put three fingers in the ripped seam. “That’s the third time that’s happened.” He spread the seam on the other arm, putting his whole hand in i
t. He turned and showed me his back. The seams at the shoulders had pulled apart on both sides like mouths.
I giggled, and I don’t do that often. “You look like the Incredible Hulk.”
He flexed his arms and shoulders like a bodybuilder. The look of mock concentration on his face made me laugh. The silk ripped with an almost wet sound. Silk sounds the closest to flesh of any cloth when you tear it; only leather sounds more alive under a blade.
His tanned flesh showed pale through the black cloth, as if some invisible knife were slashing rips in it. He straightened up. One sleeve had ripped so badly at the shoulder that it flapped around his upper arm. The seams at the top of his chest were like twin smiles.
“I feel a draft,” he said. He turned and showed me his back. The shirt had peeled off his back, hanging in tatters.
“It’s trashed,” I said.
“Too much weight lifting since I was measured for the shirt.”
“You are perilously close to being too muscular,” I said.
“Can you ever be too muscular?” he asked.
“Yes, you can,” I said.
“You don’t like it?” he asked. He wadded his hands into the front of the shirt and pulled. The silk tore into black shreds, ripping like a soft scream. He tossed the silk at me. I caught it by reflex, not thinking.
He grabbed what was left of the shirt across his shoulders and pulled it over his head, exposing every inch of his chest, his shoulders. He strained his arms upward, making the muscles mold against his skin from stomach to shoulder.
It didn’t just make me catch my breath, it made me catch and hold, forgetting to breathe for a few seconds, so that when I did remember, my breath came out in a shaky gasp. So much for being cool and sophisticated.
He lowered his arms and all that was left were the sleeves. He pulled them off like a stripper removing long gloves and let the bits of silk fall to the ground. He stood looking at me, nude from the waist up.
“Am I supposed to applaud or say, ‘My, my, Mr. Zeeman, what big shoulders you have’? I’m aware that you have a great body, Richard. You don’t have to rub my face in it.”
He moved into me until he was standing so close that a hard thought would have made us touch. “What a good idea,” he said.
Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Collection 6-10 Page 100