“I know.”
There was something about the way he said it. “You watched, you sick son of a bitch.”
“No, it wasn’t like that.”
“How was it?” I sat with my arms crossed over my stomach, glaring at him. So that was the hold Jean-Claude had on him. Richard was a voyeur.
“I wanted to make sure he only did enough to save your life.”
“What else could he have done? He drank my blood, dammit.”
Richard concentrated on the road suddenly, not looking at me. “He could have raped you.”
“I was bleeding from my eyes and nose, you said. Doesn’t sound very romantic to me.”
“All the blood, it seemed to excite him.”
I stared at him. “You’re serious?”
He nodded.
I sat there feeling cold down to my toes. “What made you think he was going to rape me?”
“You woke up on a black bedspread. The first one was white. He laid you on it and started to strip down. He took your robe off. There was blood everywhere. He smeared his face in it, tasted it. Another vampire handed him a small gold knife.”
“There were more vamps there?”
“It was like a ritual. The audience seemed to be important. He slit your wrist and drank at it, but his hands… he was touching your breasts. I told him that I had brought you so you could live, not so he could rape you.”
“That must have gone over real big.”
Richard was very quiet all of a sudden.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“Tell me, Richard. I mean it.”
“Jean-Claude looked up with blood all over his face and said, ‘I have not waited this long to take what I want her to give freely. It is a temptation.’ Then he looked down at you, and there was something in his face, Anita. It was scary as hell. He really believes you’ll come around. That you’ll… love him.”
“Vampires don’t love.”
“Are you sure?”
I glanced at him, then away. I stared at the window at the daylight that was just now beginning to fade. “Vampires don’t love. They can’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“Jean-Claude does not love me.”
“Maybe he does, as much as he can.”
I shook my head. “He bathed in my blood. He slit my wrist. That isn’t my idea of love.”
“Maybe it’s his.”
“Then it’s too damn weird for me.”
“Fine, but admit that he may love you, as much as he’s able.”
“No.”
“It scares you to think that he loves you, doesn’t it?”
I stared out the window as hard as I could. I didn’t want to be talking about this. I wanted to undo this whole damn day.
“Or is it something else that you’re afraid of?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” He sounded so sure of himself. He didn’t know me well enough to be that certain.
“Say it out loud, Anita. Say it just once and it won’t seem so scary.”
“I don’t have anything to say.”
“You’re telling me that no part of you wants him. Not a piece of you might love him back.”
“I don’t love him; that much I’m sure of.”
“But?”
“You are persistent,” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“All right, I’m attracted to him. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“How attracted?”
“That’s none of your damn business.”
“Jean-Claude warned me to stay away from you. I just want to know if I’m really interfering. If you’re attracted to him, maybe I should stay out of it.”
“He’s a monster, Richard. You’ve seen him. I can’t love a monster.”
“If he was human?”
“He’s an egotistical, controlling bastard.”
“But if he was human?”
I sighed. “If he was human, we might work something out, but even alive, Jean-Claude can be such an SOB. I don’t think it would work.”
“But you’re not even going to try because he’s a monster.”
“He’s dead, Richard, a walking corpse. It doesn’t matter how pretty he is, or how compelling, he’s still dead. I don’t date corpses. A girl’s got to have some standards.”
“So no corpses,” he said.
“No corpses.”
“What about lycanthropes?”
“Why? You thinking of fixing me up with your friend?”
“Just curious about where you draw the line.”
“Lycanthropy is a disease. The person’s already survived a vicious attack. It’d be like blaming the rape victim.”
“You ever date a shapeshifter?”
“It’s never come up.”
“What else wouldn’t you date?”
“Things that were never human to begin with, I guess. I really haven’t thought about it. Why the interest?”
He shook his head. “Just curious.”
“Why aren’t I still pissed at you?”
“Maybe because you’re glad to be alive, no matter what the cost.”
He pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building. Larry’s car was idling in my parking space. “Maybe I am glad to be alive, but I’ll let you know about the cost when I find out what it really is.”
“You don’t believe Jean-Claude?”
“I wouldn’t believe Jean-Claude if he told me moonlight was silver.”
Richard smiled. “Sorry about the date.”
“Maybe we can try again sometime.”
“I’d like that,” he said.
I opened the door and stood shivering in the cool air. “Whatever happens, Richard, thanks for watching out for me.” I hesitated, then said, “And whatever hold Jean-Claude’s got on you, break it. Get away from him. He’ll get you killed.”
He just nodded. “Good advice.”
“Which you’re not going to take,” I said.
“I would if I could, Anita. Please believe that.”
“What does he have on you, Richard?”
He shook his head. “He ordered me not to tell you.”
“He ordered you not to date me, too.”
He shrugged. “You better get going. You’re going to be late for work.”
I smiled. “Besides, I’m freezing my butt off.”
He smiled. “You do have a way with words.”
“I spend too much time hanging around with cops.”
He put the car in gear. “Have a safe night at work.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He nodded. I closed the door. Richard didn’t seem to want to talk about what Jean-Claude had on him. Well, no rule said we had to play honesty on the first date. Besides, he was right. I was going to be late for work.
I tapped on Larry’s window. “I’ve got to change, then I’ll be right back down.”
“Who was that dropping you off?”
“A date.” I left it at that. It was a much easier explanation than the truth. Besides, it was almost true.
Chapter 44
This is the only night of the year that Bert allows us to wear black to work. He thinks the color is too harsh for normal business hours. I had black jeans and a Halloween sweater with huge grinning jack o’ lanterns in a stomach-high line. I topped it off with a black zipper sweatshirt and black Nikes. Even my shoulder holster and the Browning matched. I had my backup gun in an inner pants holster. I also had two extra clips in my sport bag. I had replaced the knife I’d had to leave in the cave. There was a derringer in my jacket pocket and two extra knives, one down the spine, the other in an ankle holster. Don’t laugh. I left the shotgun home.
If Jean-Claude found out I’d betrayed him, he’d kill me. Would I know when he died? Would I feel it? Something told me that I would.
I took the card that Karl Inger had given me and called the number. If it had to be done, it best be done quickly.
“Hello?”
“Is this Karl Inger?”
“Yes, it is. Who is this?”
“It’s Anita Blake. I need to speak with Oliver.”
“Have you decided to give us the Master of the City?”
“Yes.”
“If you’ll hold for a moment, I’ll fetch Mr. Oliver.” He laid the receiver down. I heard him walking away until there was nothing but silence on the phone. Better than Muzak.