Would Jean-Claude deliberately try to ruin a potential relationship between Richard and me? Yep.
"You asked what hold Jean-Claude had on me. That was it. My pack leader loaned me to Jean-Claude on the condition that no one find out what I was."
"Why are you a special case?"
"They won't let lycanthropes teach kids, or anybody else for that matter."
"You're a werewolf."
"Isn't that better than being dead?"
I stared up at him. His eyes were still the same perfect brown. His hair fell forward around his face. I wanted to ask him to sit down, to let me run my fingers through his hair, to keep it from that wonderful face.
"Yeah, it's better than being dead."
He let out a breath, as if he'd been holding it. He smiled and held the flowers out to me.
I took them because I didn't know what else to do. They were red carnations with enough baby's breath to form a white mist over the red. The carnations smelled like sweet cloves. Richard was a werewolf. Next in line for pack leader. He could pass for human. I stared up at him. I held out my hand to him. He took it, and his hand was warm and solid, and alive.
"Now that we've established why you're not dead, why aren't I dead?"
"Edward did CPR on you until the ambulances came. The doctors don't know what caused your heart to stop, but there's no permanent damage."
"What did you tell the police about all the bodies?"
"What bodies?"
"Come off it, Richard."
"By the time the ambulance got there, there were no extra bodies."
"The audience saw it all."
"But what was real and what was illusion? The police got a hundred different versions from the audience. They're suspicious, but they can't prove anything. The Circus has been shut down until the authorities can be sure it's safe."
"Safe?" I laughed.
He shrugged. "As safe as it ever was."
I slipped my hand out of Richard's grasp, using both hands to smell the flowers again. "Is Jean-Claude. . alive?"
"Yes."
A great sense of relief washed over me. I didn't want him dead. I didn't want Jean-Claude dead. Shit. "He's still Master of the City, then. And I'm still bound to him."
"No," Richard said, "Jean-Claude told me to tell you. You're free. Alejandro's marks sort of canceled his out. You can't serve two masters, he said."
Free? I was free? I stared at Richard. "It can't be that easy."
Richard laughed. "You call this easy?"
I looked up. I had to smile. "All right, it wasn't easy, but I didn't think anything short of death would get Jean-Claude off my back."
"Are you happy the marks are gone?"
I started to say, "Of course," then stopped myself. There was something very serious in Richard's face. He knew what it was to be offered power. To be one with the monsters. It could be horrible, and wonderful.
Finally I said "Yes."
"Really?"
I nodded.
"You don't seem too enthused," he said.
"I know I should be jumping for joy, or something, but I just feel empty."
"You've been through a lot the last few days. You're entitled to be a little numb."
Why wasn't I happier to be rid of Jean-Claude? Why wasn't I relieved to be no one's human servant? Because I'd miss him? Stupid. Ridiculous. True.
When something gets too hard to think about, think about something else. "So now everyone knows you're a werewolf."
"No."
"You were hospitalized, and you've already healed. I think they'll guess."
"Jean-Claude had me hidden away until I healed. This is my first day up and around."
"How long have I been out?"
"A week."
"You're joking."
"You were in a coma for three days. The doctors still don't know what made you start breathing on your own."
I had come that close to the great beyond. I couldn't remember any tunnel of light, or soothing voices. I felt cheated. "I don't remember."
"You were unconscious; you're not supposed to remember."
"Sit down, before I get a crick looking up at you."
He pulled up a chair and sat down by the bed, smiling at me. It was a nice smile.
"So you're a werewolf."
He nodded.
"How did it happen?"
He stared down at the floor, then up. His face looked so solemn, I was sorry I'd asked. I was expecting some great tale of a savage attack survived. "I got a bad batch of lycanthropy serum."
"You what?"
"You heard me." He seemed embarrassed.
"You got a bad shot?"
"Yes."
My smile got wider and wider.
"It's not funny," he said.
I shook my head. "Not at all." I knew my eyes were shiny, and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud. "You've got to admit it's nicely ironic."
He sighed. "You're going to hurt yourself. Go ahead and laugh."
I did. I laughed until it hurt, and Richard joined in. Laughter is contagious, too.
49
A dozen white roses came later that day with a note from Jean-Claude. The note read, "You are free of me, if you choose. But I hope you want to see me as much as I want to see you. It is your choice. Jean-Claude."
I stared at the flowers for a long time. I finally had a nurse give them to someone else, or throw them away, or whatever the hell she wanted to do with them. I just wanted them out of my sight. So I was still attracted to Jean-Claude. I might even, in some dark corner, love him a little. It didn't matter. Loving the monsters always ends badly for the human. It's a rule.
That brought me to Richard. He was one of the monsters, but he was alive. That was an improvement over Jean-Claude. And was he any less human than I was: zombie queen, vampire slayer, necromancer? Who was I to complain?
I don't know where they put all the body parts, but no police ever came asking. Whether I'd saved the city or not, it was still murder. Legally, Oliver had done nothing to deserve death.
I got out of the hospital and went back to work. Larry stayed on. He's learning how to hunt vampires, God save him.
The lamia was truly immortal. Which I guess means lamias can't have been extinct. They just must always have been rare. Jean-Claude got the lamia a green card and gave her a job at the Circus of the Damned. I don't know if he's letting her breed, or not. I haven't been near the Circus since I got out of the hospital.
Richard and I finally had that first date. We went for something fairly traditionaclass="underline" dinner and a movie. We're going caving next week. He promised no underwater tunnels. His lips are the softest I've ever kissed. So he gets furry once a month. No one's perfect.
Jean-Claude hasn't given up. He keeps sending me gifts. I keep refusing them. I have to keep saying no until he gives up, or until hell freezes over, whichever comes first.
Most women complain that there are no single, straight men left. I'd just like to meet one who's human.