Bullet ab-19

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  “Do you not want the coffee?” he asked.

  “It smells good,” I said, and my voice sounded as numb as I felt.

  Richard touched my hand where it showed around the edge of the blanket and wrapped my fingers around the handle of the mug. “Drink it.”

  My hand started to shake as I raised the mug, so I had to use my other hand to steady it. Two hands were better. I took a moment to smell the aroma: rich, dark, good coffee. Nathaniel had been doing my coffee shopping for me. He was the only one who always got what I wanted.

  “How’s Nathaniel?” I asked.

  “As I’ve answered before, ma petite, he is fine. He will be fine. He is hurt, but it is not permanent.”

  “Drink the coffee while it’s hot, Anita,” Richard said.

  I sipped the coffee and it was good. There wasn’t quite the right amount of sugar in it, but Richard didn’t know that I’d started putting in more sugar. He hadn’t been around enough to know that I’d changed anything.

  “How do we keep everyone safe?” I asked, and I wasn’t sure who I was asking.

  “We will meet with the tigers when you are ready,” Jean-Claude said.

  I shook my head. “I don’t mean from Marmee Noir, I mean from things like what just happened. I thought Haven and I had worked things out. I thought it was safe.”

  “We all did,” Richard said.

  Jean-Claude sat down behind me, so he could curl his body against my back. His arms slid carefully around my shoulders so that he didn’t jostle the coffee, but he could still hold me. “You could not have known, ma petite.”

  “That Haven was a bad guy? I knew that, and him beating them almost to death showed he hadn’t changed.”

  He laid his head against my hair. “There are bad men among Rafael’s rats, but they would never have behaved so. It is not his past that made this happen. It is not that he spent most of his life on the wrong side of the law that made this happen.”

  “Then what? Why?”

  “Do not ask this now, ma petite. Please, let it rest until you have had more time.”

  “No,” I said, “if you know why this happened, then tell me, because I don’t understand it.”

  “Take the coffee, Richard,” he said.

  Richard took it and sat back on the floor, his hand finding my fresh jeans under the blanket. I had clothes to change into no matter how many times I ruined them. I had my whole damn wardrobe here. So I could keep changing after every bloodbath. Richard rubbed my leg through the jeans. I let him.

  “Jean-Claude, tell me,” I said.

  He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, his face next to mine. “I believe that he had never been in love before, perhaps not truly loved anyone ever before in his life before you, ma petite.”

  I frowned, putting my hands on his arms. “So what does that mean? If I was the first love he’d ever had, why did he try to kill one of the other people I love most?”

  He held me tighter, and I knew whatever he was going to say I wouldn’t like, but I needed to hear it. I needed to try to understand what the fuck had gone wrong.

  “I am told he answered the question of why he had done it, ma petite.”

  I nodded. “He said, because I loved all the other men more than I loved him.”

  “A certain type of man, when he loves for the first time, his love is not really love, it is possession. Possessions don’t have rights or feelings; they are something to be owned and controlled. He had spent more than a year trying to do just that, and failing.”

  “So when he attacked Micah and Nathaniel the last time we were all at my house, that was sort of a last-ditch effort to try to, what, own me?”

  “When you fought on their side against him, he couldn’t understand it,” Richard said quietly.

  “He hurt people I loved. I don’t let that happen.”

  “But he was stronger than they were; he could have won the fight if you hadn’t sided with them. I think if he’d been willing to really hurt you physically, you might not have won then.”

  I nodded, holding on to Jean-Claude’s arms, leaning in against the solidness of him. Richard kept rubbing my leg over and over. “He was willing to hurt me today.”

  “Maybe,” Richard said, “but it wasn’t you he wanted to bloody. Even in the fight he didn’t actually bloody you, did he?”

  I stared down at him. “What do you mean?”

  “He didn’t want to hurt you physically, even at the end.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I asked.

  “No, I mean, yes. Shit.”

  “Are you saying Haven wouldn’t have hurt me? That I didn’t have to kill him?” My voice was rising, almost yelling.

  “No,” Richard said, “no, he had to die. He was too dangerous.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  Richard put the coffee mug carefully on the bedside table and knelt in front of me, his hands on my knees under the blanket. “I’m saying he didn’t want to hurt you physically, but he wanted to hurt you, Anita. He just wanted to hurt you the way you’d hurt him.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  Jean-Claude spoke with his face next to mine. “It means, ma petite, that he knew who to kill to break your heart the most.”

  I turned so I could see his face. “What?”

  “You love me, I know that,” he said, “but the thought of Nathaniel dead and gone, the thought of how close you came to losing him today, that is the thought that turns your skin cold and makes you unwilling to feel.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him he was crazy, but I closed my mouth and tried to think. I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say to that. I’d feel just as bad if it were one of you wounded in the other room.”

  Richard laid his head on my lap. My hand came down automatically to touch the foamy waves of his hair. “I know you care for me, Anita, and maybe if I stop being such an ass you’ll love me again, but I had my own bad moments watching you fall in love with Nathaniel and Micah. Micah I got. He’s Nimir-Raj. He might be too small to win a fistfight with me or one of the larger dominants, but he’s a good leader, better than me, better than Haven was. We both recognized that, and respected it, but Nathaniel—it took me a long time to understand why you loved him.” He spoke with his head in my lap, his tall, bare upper body bowed so he could fit his head and some of those broad shoulders in my lap. I could only see the side of his face as he talked, and he couldn’t see mine at all. Was that on purpose?

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you, or anyone,” I said.

  “I know that,” he said, “and sometimes I did mean to hurt you, Anita. I’m very sorry about that now, but Nathaniel offended that macho part of me. Haven had a lot more macho to live up to, partly because the lions are just that way, and partly because he’d been in the mob since he was a teenager. He just couldn’t share you with someone he saw as weak.” Richard wrapped his arms around my legs, hugging me. “He couldn’t bear seeing that you loved someone who was weaker, less dominant, submissive in every way, but you loved him more.”

  I thought about that. “Is that why he was convinced I’d had sex with Travis and Noel? They’re weak, submissive, or Noel was, not sure about Travis. I don’t think he’s sure about himself yet.”

  Richard nodded his head against my lap. “I think that was part of it. He looked at the men you loved most and the ones you seemed to fall in love with easiest, and it’s usually less dominant men. Micah is Nimir-Raj, but he doesn’t fight you about ruling the leopards. He doesn’t argue with you the way I do.”

  Jean-Claude went very still against me. I looked down at the man in my lap, and finally said, “No, he doesn’t.”

  He raised his head up so he could look into my face. “I thought you killed because it didn’t bother you. I didn’t understand until today how much it costs you.” He swallowed, and his eyes were shiny. “I’ve let you do my killing for me for years. I’ve forced you to do terrible things because I’m too sq
ueamish. I comforted myself at one point by saying that it didn’t bother you, it didn’t mean anything to you, to do the wolf pack’s dirty business, but that was just to make me feel better. Everything you’ve done to keep us safe, and make other shapeshifters and vampires think twice before attacking St. Louis, had a price. I told myself that you didn’t pay that price, that you were cold about it. Today I saw your face when you realized Noel was dead. I saw your face after you’d killed Haven. I saw the pain. I saw the price, and I am so sorry that you’ve had to pay that price on your own.”

  I looked into those brown eyes and didn’t know whether to pinch myself or him. “What are you saying? That you’ll help me kill people now?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll defend the wolves with violence when it’s needed, but I’ll never be a shooter, Anita. I don’t regret that, but I am sorry that you have to pay more of the price for our safety than I do, because I’ll never be . . .” He stopped as if he didn’t know what to say.

  “You’ll never be a killer like me?” I said.

  He looked up and shook his head. “I did not say that, I wouldn’t have said that. Haven had to die. He was too dangerous, too unpredictable to be allowed to stay as Rex.”

  “I didn’t kill him because of that,” I said.

  Richard studied my face. “I don’t understand.”

  “I killed him because Noel did a brave thing. Noel pushed Nathaniel out of the way of the shot. Noel who was one of the weakest of all of you guys, but he was brave when it counted, and he should have lived through that. He should have lived and gotten to be brave and get his master’s degree and have a life. He was only twenty-four and now he’s dead, and we can’t even tell his parents that he died a hero, because we can’t tell them the truth about what happened. They’ll never know that he died brave, and he died well, and he died saving the man I love, and all I could do was walk across the room and shoot his killer in the face until he died, too.” I was crying and didn’t mean to. “I didn’t kill Haven because it was the best thing for the city, or for the lions, Richard. I killed him because if Noel had to die, it was the least I could do for him. I killed Haven because he tried to kill Nathaniel, and that is not allowed. For that he had to die, because I looked into his eyes and knew that while he was alive, Nathaniel wasn’t safe, and I’d do anything to keep him safe.”

  Jean-Claude held me tight, murmuring comforting words in French. Richard buried his face against my legs again and wrapped his arms around them. They held me close, and I let myself cry for Noel, and for Nathaniel, and for the knowledge that I’d killed one of my own lovers, killed him with the taste of his body still on my lips, the feel of him still like a memory inside me, and I’d looked him in the same eyes that had looked up at me in bed while we made love, and blown his face into so much meat and bones.

  And in the end, that last was what made the crying build to screams.

  26

  I FINALLY WENT to relieve Micah at Nathaniel’s bedside. We had a series of rooms that had been made into hospital rooms so that when our people were hurt they didn’t all have to go to the lycanthrope hospital that the wererats had set up years ago for the local shapeshifters. Human hospitals didn’t always like treating lycanthropes. The room was smallish with a twin hospital bed, subdued lighting at the moment, but I knew that the brightest lights in the entire underground were in these rooms. It had been yet another remodeling project when we did everything else. Jean-Claude was really trying to make this our home. I missed windows.

  I’d gotten my hysterics out of the way. I sat there holding the hand that wasn’t attached to a freshly shot shoulder. Nathaniel smiled at me, and that was enough. I regretted having to kill Haven the way I did, but I couldn’t regret him being dead. He’d shot Nathaniel. He’d meant to take that smile, those eyes, and the hand in mine away from me forever. No, I didn’t regret Haven being dead. If Noel hadn’t been dead, I think I’d have felt a lot better than I did about all of it.

  “I’m sorry that you had to kill Haven,” Nathaniel said.

  I blinked and realized I wasn’t sure what my face had been showing in the last few minutes. I smiled at him. “It’s okay.”

  “No,” he said, “it’s not.”

  I shrugged, the spare shoulder rig a little tight. The old one was going to have to be repaired, again. At least I hadn’t had it cut off me in an emergency room. “It is what it is.”

  “Do you want me to let you be all macho about this?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Please. I had my breakdown earlier.”

  He squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

  That made me smile again. “Jean-Claude and Richard handled me.”

  There was a soft knock at the door, and I didn’t know who it was until Damian came through. I was still numb from Marmee Noir and the Lover of Death, and from everything else. I realized this was the most alone in my head and emotions I’d been in a very long time. I used to crave being separate; now it felt weird, as if a piece of me had gone AWOL.

  Damian had changed into his favorite robe. It looked like a Victorian smoking jacket except it came down to his ankles. The robe’s velvet had rubbed almost away at the elbows and other places. I’d never asked, but I was pretty certain that the robe wasn’t a reproduction. He’d worn this robe for over a hundred years. It had become a comfort object for him, but I didn’t begrudge it to him; I might be sleeping with a certain toy penguin if I ever got to sleep again.

  His red hair was dry and shining over the dark of the robe. Straight hair dried so much faster than curly. He had a small covered tray. The rich scent of coffee was mixed in with other scents. I smelled mainly coffee but was pretty sure there was food underneath the cover. I fought not to frown. I so wasn’t hungry.

  “Don’t give me that look,” he said. “You have to eat.”

  “I so don’t want food, Damian.”

  He walked to the little sliding table/tray by the bed and sat the food on it. He lifted the cover and the perfume of the coffee filled the room. I had to admit it smelled good. The tray was heaped with croissants, various cheeses, and fruit. It looked like enough food for all of us, if Damian could eat solid food. “Coffee, then,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Nathaniel is drawing on us to heal himself. If you want him to heal quickly, and with no scar, we need the energy to feed him. You and I will have to eat more so Nathaniel doesn’t drain us.” He put a croissant, a small piece of cheese, and some fruit on a little plate.

  I slumped in the chair and fought not to scowl. Nathaniel squeezed my hand. It made me look at him. “I can try to stop taking so much energy from the two of you.”

  I shook my head. “No, that’s one of the benefits of the triumvirate.” I made myself sit up straight. “I want you healed as fast as possible. I’ll eat, but I’d really like the coffee first.”

  Damian held the plate out to me. “One whole croissant, one piece of cheese, or two pieces of fruit and then you can have the coffee.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I said, frowning as I took the food.

  “I could have brought sausage. Protein will help him heal the fastest and give us the most energy. I was nice, bringing something light.”

  The thought of meat made me vaguely ill. I took the food he offered a little more gratefully. “Thank you, Damian.”

  He frowned at me, almost suspicious. “You’re welcome.”

  His expression made me laugh. “Don’t look so suspicious. You’re right and I’m admitting it.”

  He smiled, but his green eyes held just a hint of mistrust. “You don’t usually give in this fast.”

  I glanced at Nathaniel and then at the food. “I just want everyone well, that’s all.” I picked up a strawberry and took a bite of it. It was juicy and sweet and so ripe that another day would have seen it too ripe. It tasted good enough that I knew I was a lot hungrier than I’d realized. Two strawberries and half a croissant later, I asked, “Can I have the coffee now, please?”
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br />   He smiled and handed me the cup. It was actually a big travel mug with penguins on it. The words around the penguins were Wake up and smell the coffee. Micah had found it for me on one of his business trips. Everyone who could drink coffee had their travel mugs, or used the generic ones that matched the red and black plates. The kitchen was too far away from some of the rooms, so ways to keep hot things hot were important.

  I sipped the coffee, closing my eyes so the smell and taste of it could have their way with me. I’d finally convinced everyone that good coffee was a necessity, not a luxury.

  “That’s better,” Damian said. I heard sounds and opened my eyes to find he’d pulled up the room’s second chair. His robe gaped a little, showing a lot of pale naked chest. He had that peaches-and-cream complexion of most redheads, but the complexion hadn’t seen sunlight for hundreds of years. His skin was so white it almost seemed to glow against the dark of the robe.

  “I’ve already taken blood again,” he said. “Your job is to eat solid food, since I can’t.”

  I nodded, sipping the coffee again, and went back to holding Nathaniel’s hand. Damian reached out and laid a hand on Nathaniel’s leg where it lay under the covers. The moment he touched him, it was as if the circuit completed. Power breathed over us, through us, so the warm rush of Nathaniel, the cool energy of Damian, and my own power that seemed to be a mixture of both just suddenly flooded over us like three different streams of water intermingling until I couldn’t tell where one energy left off and the other began. My shoulder hurt, a lot. The pain was sharp and dull at the same time, and I knew that whatever the doctors had done to fix the wound had cost Nathaniel other pain.

  Then it was gone, stopped. My shoulder was just a dull aching memory. I opened my eyes without realizing that I’d closed them. Damian was standing, not touching anyone. His taking his hand away had stopped it.

  “You’re our master, Anita; you have to get better at controlling this,” he said from the far side of the room, as he rubbed his shoulder where Nathaniel’s wound would have been.