The Killing Dance abvh-6

by Laurell Hamilton

  "Richard is dying, ma petite. I feel his life slipping away."

  I stared up at him. "You're still keeping me from feeling it, aren't you?"

  "I am protecting you." There was a look on his face that I didn't like.

  I touched his arm. His skin was cool to the touch. "Why?"

  He turned away.

  I jerked him hard, forced him to look at me. "Why?"

  "Even with only two marks, Richard can try and drain us both to stay alive. I am preventing that."

  "You're protecting us both?" I asked.

  "When he dies, I can protect one of us, ma petite, but not both."

  I stared at him. "You're saying that when he dies, you're both going to die?"

  "I fear so."

  I shook my head. "No. Not both of you. Not all at once. Dammit, you're not supposed to be able to die."

  "I am sorry, ma petite."

  "No, we can share power just like we did to raise the zombies, the vampires, like we did tonight."

  Jean-Claude slumped suddenly downward, one hand on Richard's body. "I will not drag you to the grave with me, ma petite. I would rather think of you alive and well."

  I dug my fingers into Jean-Claude's arm. I touched Richard's chest. A shuddering breath ran up my arm from him. "I'll be alive, but I won't be well. I'd rather die than lose you both."

  He stared at me for a long second. "You do not know what you are asking."

  "We are a triumvirate now. We can do this, Jean-Claude. We can do this, but you have to show me how."

  "We are powerful beyond my wildest dreams, ma petite, but even we cannot cheat death."

  "He owes me one."

  Jean-Claude flinched as if in pain. "Who owes you?"

  "Death. "

  "Ma petite. . ."

  "Do it, Jean-Claude, do it. Whatever it is, whatever it takes. Do it, please!"

  He slumped on top of Richard, head barely raised. "The third mark. It will either bind us forever, or kill us all."

  I offered him my wrist. "No, ma petite, if it is to be our only time, come to me." He lay half on Richard's body, arms open for me. I lay in the circle of his arms, and realized when I touched his chest there was no heartbeat. I turned and stared into his face from inches away. "Don't leave me."

  His midnight blue eyes filled with fire. He swept my hair to one side and said, "Open for me, ma petite, open for us both."

  I did, sweeping my mind open, dropping every guard I'd ever had. I fell forward, impossibly forward, down a long, black tunnel towards a burning blue fire. Pain cut the darkness like a white knife, and I heard myself gasp. I felt Jean-Claude's fangs sink into me, his mouth sealing over my flesh, sucking me, drinking me.

  A wind swept through the falling darkness, catching me like a net before I touched that blue fire. The wind smelled of growing earth and the musty scent of fur. I felt something else: sorrow. Richard's sorrow. His mourning. Not of his death, but of my loss. Dead or alive, he'd lost me, and among his many faults was a loyalty that went beyond reason. Once in love, he was a man to stay there, regardless of what the woman did. A knight errant in every sense of the word. He was a fool, and I loved him for it. Jean-Claude I loved in spite of himself. Richard I loved because of who he was.

  I wouldn't lose him. I wrapped his essence like winding myself in a sheet, except that I had no body. I held him in my mind, my body, and let him feel the love, my sorrow, regret. Jean-Claude was there, too. I half-expected him to protest, to sabotage it, but he didn't. That blue fire spilled upward through the tunnel to meet us, and the world exploded into shapes and images that were too confusing. Bits and pieces of memory, sensations, thoughts, like three separate jigsaw puzzles shaken and tossed into the air, and every piece that touched formed a picture.

  I padded through the forest on four feet. The smells alone were intoxicating. I sank fangs into a dainty wrist, and it wasn't mine. I watched the pulse underneath a woman's neck and thought of blood, warm flesh, and far-off and distant sex. The memories came fast, then faster, flowing like some sort of carnival ride. Blackness gained on the images, like ink filling water. When the darkness ate everything, I floated for an impossible second, then went out like a candle flame. Nothing.

  I didn't even have time to be scared.

  45

  I woke in a pastel pink hospital room. A nurse in a matching pink smock smiled down at me. Fear pumped like fine champagne. Where was Richard? Where was Jean-Claude? What I finally managed to ask, was, "How did I get here?"

  "Your friend brought you." She motioned with her head.

  Edward sat in a chair by the far wall, leafing through a magazine. He looked up and our eyes met. His face gave away nothing.

  "Edward?"

  "My friends call me Ted, Anita, you know that." He had that good of boy smile that could only mean he was pretending to be Ted Forrester. It was his only legal identity that I'd ever met. Even the cops thought he was this Ted person. "Nurse, can we have a few minutes alone?"

  The nurse smiled, looked curiously from one to the other of us, and left, still smiling.

  I tried to grab Edward's hand and found my left hand was taped to a board and stuck with an IV. I grabbed at him with my right hand, and he held it. "Are they alive?"

  He smiled, a mere twitch of lips. "Yes."

  A relief like I'd never known flowed through my body. I collapsed back against the bed, weak. "What happened?"

  "You came in suffering from lycanthrope scratches and a very nasty vampire bite. He almost drained you dry, Anita."

  "Maybe that's what it took to save us."

  "Maybe," Edward said. He sat on the edge of the bed. His jacket gaped enough to flash his shoulder holster and gun. He caught me looking. "The police agree that the monsters might hold a grudge. There's even a cop outside your door."

  We weren't holding hands now. He stared down at me and something very cold passed over his face. "Did you have to kill Harley?"

  I started to say yes, but I stopped myself. I replayed it in my mind. Finally. I looked up at him. "I don't know, Edward. When you were knocked out, he couldn't see you anymore. I tried to talk to him, but he couldn't hear me. He started to raise the machine gun." I met Edward's empty blue eyes. "I shot him. You saw the body. I even put one through his head. A coupe de grace."

  "I know." His face, his voice gave nothing away. It was like watching a mannequin talk, except that this mannequin was armed and I wasn't.

  "It never occurred to me not to shoot, Edward. I didn't even hesitate."

  Edward took a deep breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth. "I knew that's what had happened. If you'd lied to me, I'd have killed you." He walked away to stand at the foot of the bed.

  "While I'm unarmed?" I tried to make light of it, but it didn't work.

  "Check your pillow."

  I slid my hand under and came up with the Firestar. I held it in my lap, laying it on my sheet-covered legs. "What now?"

  "You owe me a life."

  I looked up at that. "I saved your life last night."

  "Our lives don't count, we'd back each other up, no matter what."

  "I don't know what you're talking about then."

  "Occasionally I'll need help, like Harley. Next time I need help, I'll call you."

  I wanted to argue because I wasn't entirely sure what mess Edward would drag me into, but I didn't. Looking into his empty eyes, holding the gun he'd put under my pillow, I knew he'd do it. If I refused his bargain, his trade as it were, he'd pull down on me, and we'd find out once and for all who was better.

  I stared down at the gun in my hands. "I've already got the gun out; all I have to do is point."

  "You're injured. You need the edge." His hand hovered near the butt of his gun.

  I laid the gun on the sheets beside me, and looked at him. I lay back on the pillows. "I don't want to do this, Edward."

  "Then, when I call, you'll come?"

  I thought about it for another brief second, then said,
"Yeah, I'll come."

  He smiled, his Ted (good ol' boy) Forrester smile. "I'll never find out how good you really are until you draw down on me."

  "We can live with that," I said. "By the way, why the invitation to come monster hunting now? And don't tell me it's about Harley."

  "You killed him, Anita. You killed him without thinking about it. Even now, there's no regret in you, no doubt."

  He was right. I didn't feel bad about it. Scary, but true. "So you invited me to come play because I'm now as much of a sociopath as you are."

  "Oh, I'm a much better sociopath," he said. "I'd never let a vampire sink his fangs into my neck. And I wouldn't date the terminally furry."

  "Do you date anyone, ever?"

  He just smiled that irritating smile that meant he wasn't going to answer. But he did. "Even Death has needs."

  Edward dating? That was something I had to see.

  46

  I got out of the hospital with no permanent scars. That was a switch. Richard had touched the wounds Gabriel gave me, his face very serious. No one had to say it out loud. In a month, we'd know. The doctors offered to put me in one of the shapeshifter halfway houses (read prisons) for the first-time furry. It has to be voluntary, but once you sign yourself in, it's almost impossible to sign yourself out. I told them I'd take care of it myself. They scolded me, and I told them to go to hell.

  I spent the night of my first full moon with Richard and the pack, waiting to see if I was going to join the killing dance. I didn't. Either I'd gotten incredibly lucky or just as a vampire can't catch lycanthropy, neither could I. Richard wouldn't have much to do with me after that. I can't blame him.

  I still love him. I think he still loves me. I love Jean-Claude, too. But it's not the same kind of love. I can't explain it, but I miss Richard. For brief moments in Jean-Claude's arms, I forget. But I miss Richard.

  The fact that we are both bound to Jean-Claude doesn't help. Richard has accidentally invaded my dreams twice. Having him that close to me is too painful for words. Richard fought it, but he finally agreed to let Jean-Claude teach him enough control so that he doesn't leak all over both of us. He talks to Jean-Claude more than he talks to me.

  The triumvirate is useless. Richard is too angry at me. Too full of self-loathing. I don't know how he's doing with the pack. He's forbidden anyone to speak of pack business with me, but he hasn't chosen a new alpha female.

  Willie McCoy and the rest of the vampires I accidentally raised seem fine. Big relief there. Monica's baby is due in August. Her amnio came back clean. No Vlad syndrome. She seems to think I'm her friend now. I'm not, but I help out sometimes. Jean-Claude is playing the good master and taking care of her and the baby. Monica keeps talking about me babysitting. I hope she's kidding. Auntie Anita, she calls me. Gag me with a spoon. Funnier still, is Uncle Jean-Claude.

  My dad saw me on television in Jean-Claude's arms. He called and left a very worried message on my answering machine. My family are devout Catholics. There is no such thing as a good vampire to them.

  Maybe they're right. I don't know. Can I still be the scourge of vampire kind when I'm sleeping with the head bloodsucker?

  You bet.

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: 9597476e-13df-450d-ad7b-579ab336900a

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 2002-12-23

  Created using: EditPad Pro, FTools, ClearTXT software

  Document authors :

  Сергей Соколов (Renar)

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