A dim spotlight shone on me, and the illumination built as I walked very carefully to the two steps that led down to the dance floor. Vaulting the railing might have looked better, but it made it damn hard to hold a target. I could probably have made the head shot from the railing, but with an unfamiliar gun, it was too risky. I didn't want to accidentally shoot the woman in the head. Killing the hostage is always frowned upon.
The vampire waiters and waitresses didn't know what to do. If I'd been some schmuck off the street, they might have tried to jump me, but I was their master's beloved, which made things a little sticky. I kept a sort of peripheral eye on them. "You guys back up and give me some room—right now."
They all glanced at each other.
"You don't want to crowd me, boys and girls, so move it!" They moved.
When I was close enough to feel confident that I could make the shot, I stopped. "Let her go, Damian."
"She will not be harmed, Anita. Just a little fun."
"She's unwilling. That's against the law, even for entertainment purposes, so let her go, or I'll blow your fucking head off."
"Would you really shoot me in front of all these witnesses?"
"You bet," I said. "Besides, you're over five hundred years old. I don't think one shot to the head will kill you, not permanently at least. But it'll hurt like hell and may leave scars. You wouldn't want to spoil that beautiful face, now would you?" I was getting tired of holding one arm out. It wasn't that the gun was heavy, but it was hard to hold a one-handed pose for long without starting to waver. I didn't want to waver.
He stared at me for a space of heartbeats. He very carefully, very slowly licked the side of the woman's neck, strange green eyes staring at me the whole time. It was a dare. If he thought I was bluffing, he'd picked the wrong girl.
I let my breath out until my body was quiet, and I could hear my pulse in my ears. I sighted down my arm, down the gun, and. . he was gone. He'd moved so suddenly it startled me. I moved my finger off the trigger and pointed the gun skyward, waiting for my heart to stop pounding.
He was standing just at the edge of the light, leaving the woman empty-faced, waiting. Damian stared at me.
"Are you going to interrupt our entertainment every night?" he asked.
"I don't like it," I said, "but pick a volunteer, and I have no quarrel with you."
"A volunteer," he said, turning in a circle to view the audience. They all stared at him. He licked his lips, and hands went up.
I shook my head and put the gun up. I took the woman's hand. "Release her, Damian," I said.
He glanced back at her and did it. Her eyes flew open wide, searching frantically like someone awakened from a nightmare to find it real. I patted her hand.
"It's all right. You're safe now."
"What's happening? What's happening?" She caught sight of Damian and started sobbing hysterically.
Jean-Claude appeared on the edge of the light. "You have nothing to fear from us, fair lady." He glided towards us.
She started screaming.
"He won't hurt you," I said. "I promise. What's your name?"
She kept screaming. She was taller than me, but I touched her face, putting a hand on either side, forcing her to look at me. "What's your name?"
"Karen," she whispered, "my name's Karen."
"We're going to walk off this dance floor, Karen, and no one will hurt you. You have my word."
She nodded over and over, breath coming so fast I was afraid she was going to pass out.
Cassandra walked into the light, but stayed back. "Can I help?"
Jean-Claude had not moved since Karen started screaming. He just looked at me, and I still couldn't read his expression.
"Yeah," I said, "I could use some help."
Karen shied away from her. "She's not a vampire," I said.
She let Cassandra take her other arm, and we led her off the dance floor away from the light. Jean-Claude stepped onto center stage, and his voice followed us into the darkness. "Did you enjoy our little melodrama?" There was a puzzled silence. His voice was like fur wrapping the crowd in the dark, breathing in their fear, giving them back desire. "We do not tease here at Danse Macabre. Who would like to experience the reality of Damian's kiss?" Someone would take him up on it. Someone always did. If anyone could salvage the show after the woman's hysterics, Jean-Claude could.
Liv came to help, I think. Karen took one look at the muscle-bound vamp and fainted dead away. She was not a small woman, and it surprised both Cassandra and myself. She sagged to the floor. Liv started to come closer, but I waved her off.
A woman from the crowd came towards us, hesitantly. "Can I help?" she asked. She was about the same size as Cassandra and me, small, with long reddish hair that swung to her waist, straight and fine. She was dressed in a pair of dark brown dress slacks, the kind that run large and have cuffs and are usually linen. For a shirt she wore only a vest with a silk camisole under it.
I glanced at Cassandra. She shrugged. "Thanks, if you could take her feet." Cassandra could have flung the woman across her shoulders in a fireman's carry, but most lycanthropes didn't like to show off their strength. I could have carried her, too, even if she was so bloody tall. I could still have carried her for a short distance, but not fast, and not too far.
The woman shoved her clutch purse under one arm and took the unconscious woman's feet. We got moving a little awkwardly, but we managed to get a rhythm and Cassandra took us to the women's rest room. Or I should say, lounge. The front part had a couch and a lighted vanity. It was white and black, with a mural on the wall that was from a woodcut that I knew, entitled "Demon-Lover." The demon in this version looked suspiciously like Jean-Claude, and I doubted it was accidental.
We laid Karen on the black couch. The woman who was helping dampened some paper towels without being asked and brought them back. I laid them against Karen's forehead and neck. "Thanks."
"Is she going to be all right?" the woman asked.
I didn't answer, because that all depended on Damian. "What's your name?"
The woman smiled almost shyly. "Anabelle, Anabelle Smith."
I smiled up at her. "Anita Blake. This is Cassandra." I realized I didn't know her last name. Jean-Claude always called his wolves by only their first names, like a pet. "I'm sorry. I don't know your last name."
"Cassandra is fine." She shook Anabelle's hand. They smiled at each other.
"Should we report what happened to the police?" Anabelle asked. "I mean that vampire was going to force himself on her. That's illegal, right?"
Karen stirred on the couch, moaning.
"Yeah, it's illegal," I said.
Anabelle raised an interesting point. I could report it to the cops. If a vampire acquired three complaints against him or her, you could get a death warrant issued, if you got the right judge. I would talk to Jean-Claude and Damian first, but if they didn't give me the answers I wanted, maybe I should go to the cops. I shook my head.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
"Nothing worth sharing," I said.
The bathroom door opened. Raina walked in wearing a cream-colored dress as short as my own. The dark hose and stiletto high heels made her legs go on forever. She wore a fur jacket in a dusty red, probably fox. She was the only shape-shifter I'd met who wore real fur that wasn't her own.