Anita Blake 14 - Danse macabre (57 page)

I knew that the vampires could be so still it was like they weren't there, but it was the first time I'd realized that the lycanthropes had their own version of stillness. Of course, there were fewer people in the room than we started with. It was almost as if people had fled before things got bad. Some bodyguards.

Though, admittedly, I didn't look around too much, to see who was left in the corners of the room. Maybe they were all there, huddled around each other, trying to keep the big bad succubus from getting them.

Jean-Claude moved first, and it was as if the pause on a television program had been turned off. He moved, and everyone else breathed, moved. Voices broke into a low murmur. Jean-Claude helped Requiem stand, from where he had apparently fallen on the floor. He must have left the bed sometime during London's and my little… feeding. Even in my own head, I heard,
So that's what they're calling it these days
.

Requiem gripped Jean-Claude's arm tight. He spoke low, urgently, as if he had something important to say.

"Damian's coming." Nathaniel's voice turned me to look at him. Micah was helping him climb onto the bed. Nathaniel lay down beside me, his lavender eyes blinking at the ceiling as if he was still having trouble focusing. He was right about Damian. I could feel him coming down the corridor from the coffin room where he'd spent his day asleep. It would take him a few minutes to get here, so I turned to Nathaniel. "Don't ever do that again."

"Try to save Damian?" He tried to make a joke of it, and I wouldn't let him.

I touched his face. "Don't joke, Nathaniel."

He snuggled his cheek against my hand. "You saved us."

My throat was tight, and I'd be damned if I'd cry again today. "It was a near thing, and you know it."

Micah put a hand on both our shoulders. He gripped us tight, as if he were fighting an urge to shake us. His face said how scared he'd been, more clearly than any words.

Requiem gathered his cloak from the floor, wrapped it around himself, and went for the door. He never looked back. Maybe he understood finally that he wasn't food. I hoped so, because I needed less complication in my life, not more.

Remus went to Jean-Claude. He stood very straight and started a salute, then stopped himself in midmotion, like an old habit come back to haunt. The voice he used was one of those hardy, soldier voices. "Request permission to get me and my men out of here."

Jean-Claude looked at him, his head to one side, like Remus had done something more interesting than I was seeing. "And what if we need protecting, Remus?"

Remus shook his head. "We can't protect you from this, sir."

Jean-Claude looked behind him, closer to the fireplace. I was still lying down, so I couldn't see what he was looking at. "I think some of your men would disagree, Remus. I think several of them would have been more than happy to help protect
ma petite
, in these circumstances." His voice was mild as butter as he said it.

Remus's jaw tightened so hard that it looked painful. His voice came out strained, as if he were gritting his teeth. "I don't believe that that was what our Oba had in mind when he let you hire us, sir."

"Perhaps you should ask Narcissus what your rules of engagement are, Remus," Jean-Claude said.

Remus gave one curt nod. "I'll do that, sir, but with permission, can I get my men the hell out of here?"

I watched the thought travel across Jean-Claude's face, that he might say no. But that it was that clear to read meant he was doing it for Remus to see. "Go, and take the men with you who wish to leave."

Remus shook his head, hands in fists at his side. "No, sir, I am in command here, and I say we all go."

Jean-Claude looked around the room, as if memorizing faces. He finally nodded. "Go, and take your men, Remus. I will speak with Narcissus."

Remus looked uncertain then, but shook his head again. "I'm not saying that Narcissus wouldn't enjoy the show, sir, but I think if the detail included this kind of thing, he wouldn't have sent ex-military and ex-cops to you." He stared as hard as he could at Jean-Claude's shoulder. I realized that Remus was avoiding the vampire's gaze. "If Narcissus wanted our duties"—he seemed to search for words—"expanded, he has other… men to send."

"But not all the men in the room are hyena, Remus," Jean-Claude said. "Do you speak for Raphael's rats as well?"

"I am in command until relieved, so yes, yes, sir, I do."

Another voice came from the far wall, male, and deep, but I couldn't place it, at first. Pepito walked into view. "I'm Raphael's man, and I agree with Remus." Pepito was a large unshakable man, but he looked shaken now. Positively pale, he was. What had they felt when the
ardeur
moved through the room testing them for yumminess? Whatever they had felt, it had scared both Pepito and Remus badly. Or maybe offended them? Maybe.

"Then, by all means, go," Jean-Claude said, and he made a sweeping gesture toward the door.

Remus headed for the door, but he didn't go through it. He opened it, and held it. Pepito motioned to the men farther back in the room. I would have had to sit up to see past the headboard, and I wasn't sure I wanted to see. I started to tug at the sheets. For some reason I wanted a little covering as the guards trailed out.

Micah pulled the sheets up and covered most of me and Nathaniel. Micah stayed kneeling by us on the bed, while the bodyguards trooped out. I fought two opposing instincts. I wanted to hide under the sheet, so no one would see me, and I wouldn't have to meet anyone's eyes. But I knew if I did that I'd never be able to look any of them in the face again. I did the only thing I could do; I glared at them. A defiant front was all the hope I had to maintain any level of control or respect from any of them. Yeah, it had been an emergency and I had had to feed the
ardeur
. Technically, the guards understood that. But in reality, as Remus had said, most of them were ex-military or ex-cops. Which meant a woman was always working uphill with them anyway. They'd seen me have sex with one man, and once the story got around it would be more. The really weird thing about the rumors would be that some of the men who had actually witnessed everything would be convinced that I'd had sex with more men. I'd be lucky if some of them didn't claim they themselves had had sex with me. I'd had rumors start after crime scenes where I'd done nothing sexual. This had not been nothing.

Most of the guards seemed as eager to avoid eye contact as I was. But not everyone. I glared most of them down, but a few gave me bold eyes. The kind of look you don't want to see outside a strip club. The look that said you'd gone from a human being to just being tits and ass. I tried to remember who looked at me that way, so I could keep them away from me later.

Micah leaned over Nathaniel and me, whispering, "I see them." He was memorizing faces, too. Good, because I was still shaky, and didn't trust my own eyes to hold the right faces in the right places.

I always have trouble holding a glare when I'm more naked than the rest of the room. Nathaniel cuddled against me, under the sheet. He brought one arm free of the covers, so he could lay his bare arm across my covered waist. He rubbed his chin along the side of my breast, dragging the sheet down so that I had to hold it in place. I looked at him, ready to tell him to watch it, but the look on his face stopped the words before they could start.

He was staring at the men, too, but he wasn't glaring. His face held heat, and the promise of sex, but over it all was possessiveness. That look that a man gets when another man encroaches on his "woman." Nathaniel, who shared better than any man in my life, was marking his territory. That dark, possessive look never wavered from the parade of men. He rested the side of his chin against the mound of my breast, making it clear that he had a right to be there, like that, with me, and they did not. I didn't think Nathaniel would grasp the problem, but he had.

There was a holdup at the door, a confusion of movement, like a traffic jam. I saw the flash of blood-red hair, and expected it to be Damian on his own power, but it wasn't. Richard came through the door, his arm around Damian's waist, the vampire's arm over his shoulder. Damian leaned so heavily on him that Richard half-dragged him toward the bed.

I sat up, leaving the sheet at my waist and not caring that I was topless. Nathaniel sat up, too; we both reached toward them. I said, "Damian!" I reached for him with less-physical parts. His energy was weak, but it was more as if he hadn't woken up completely from his daytime torpor.

His legs gave out completely, and Richard carried him in his arms like a child the last few feet. He laid Damian beside me. The long, red hair hid the vampire's face. I moved the hair away so I could see his face. He blinked up at me, eyes a perfect bright green, green as summer grass. It was Damian's eyes that had raised the bar so high on green-colored eyes. No one else's eyes could compare. He tried to focus on me, but didn't seem able to do it.

I touched his face, and his skin was icy. "I fed the
ardeur
—why isn't he better than this?"

Jean-Claude came to lay his hand on Damian's forehead. Richard said, "I
found him collapsed against the wall just down from the coffin room. When Remus called for reinforcements, all the guards came here. Damian was trying to crawl to you."

"What made you think to check on him?" Micah asked, still kneeling on the bed.

"I remembered how bad he got the last time his tie to Anita broke. I thought someone should check on him."

"Very good thinking,
mon ami
." Jean-Claude touched my cheek, then Nathaniel's while keeping his other hand on Damian's face. He finally stepped back from all of us, frowning. "I believe part of what is wrong is simply that Damian has woken too early. Only the very powerful masters among us wake before noon, even deep underground. Damian is no master. I believe you,
ma petite
, called him from his coffin, but even with extra energy it was too soon."

I held one icy hand in both of mine. "Will he be all right? Did I hurt him?"

"I'll be all right." Damian's voice was slow, heavy, as if he were drugged.

I smiled down at him. "Damian, I'm so sorry."

He managed a weak smile. "It would be nice," he took a labored breath, "if you'd stop almost killing me because you don't want to screw other people."

I didn't know whether to smile or be exasperated.

"I believe that Damian would feel better if Nathaniel touched him, as well," Jean-Claude said.

Nathaniel took Damian's other hand in his, and the power jumped between us. It made me gasp. It was as if a circuit had been completed. The energy hummed from my hand, through Damian's body, into Nathaniel's hand and back again.

Damian drew in a huge, gasping breath, almost like it hurt. He swore, softly.

"Does it hurt?" Nathaniel asked, looking worried.

"Wonderful," Damian whispered, "feels wonderful. You're so warm."

Strangely, I was almost certain he was talking to Nathaniel.

"Sir, excuse me, sir." It was Remus; nerves always made him default to military-speak. Of course, it worked. Jean-Claude and Richard both turned to look at him. We all looked at him, except for Damian, who had closed his eyes.

"Yes, Remus," Jean-Claude said.

He finally looked at me, sort of. He never liked direct eye contact, but he seemed unable to stare at my shoulder, like normal, because too much of my breasts were in the way. "I owe you an apology, Blake." He said it in such a way that, apology or no, it was obvious he didn't want to be saying it.

I gave him as good an eye contact as he'd let me. "What apology do you owe me, Remus?"

He blushed, and it filled some pieces of his face with bright color, but lines in between paled, so that you could see where all the pieces of his face didn't quite match up. "I thought you were just a…" He stopped, seemed to think about it, and finally said, "Well, you know what I was thinking."

I could have been mean, and said nope, I didn't know, and tried to force him to say it all out loud. But truthfully, I didn't want to hear him call me a slut. Thinking it had been enough.

"It's okay, Remus, I might think the same thing if I were on the outside of it looking in."

He gave a small smile. "If it really is life and death for you and your people, then you need to talk to Narcissus about guards and food." He almost laughed. "Maybe give them a different color of shirt." He shook his head, and just stopped talking. He turned on his heel and left, as if whatever he'd been about to say, he wanted to stop before he said it, and leaving was the only solution. When the door closed behind him, and we were totally guard-free, Micah spoke for most of us, I think. "He's an odd one."

I just nodded.
Odd one
about covered Remus. I'd thought my not understanding him was because I didn't know him that well, but I was beginning to think that months from now, I'd have no more clue to why he did or didn't do things. Some people are mysteries, and knowing them well doesn't make them less mysterious. Less confusing sometimes, but not less mysterious.

Asher leaned against the post of the bed, near us. He had a look on his face that I used to think meant teasing, but now I knew meant worse and darker things. "Richard," he said, so pleasantly, "did you truly leave us because you worried for Damian's safety?"

Richard gave him narrow eyes. "Yes."

"Really?" Asher managed to put in that one word a world of doubt.

Richard shifted, uncomfortably, as if he didn't know what to do with his hands. "I didn't want to see Anita feed on Requiem. Does that make you happy, to know that?" he asked of Asher.

Asher leaned his cheek against the carved wood, and nodded. "Actually, yes, it does."

"Why? Why does my discomfort please you?"

Asher wrapped his hands around the post, using it like a prop, as if the scene were staged. Most of the vampires had a certain flair for the dramatic.

Belle's vamps had more than their share sometimes. He didn't answer Richard's question, but made a statement. "You could have stayed, Richard, because she didn't feed on Requiem."