He stared at Raina. He looked confused. "What the hell is this?"
Ronnie said, "Oh, my God." She was staring behind me with her mouth open.
Something was going on behind my back, but what? I stood, eyes all for George, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. I stepped away from him just to be safe. When I had enough distance to be safe. I could see the doorway.
Raina was wearing a brown silk teddy, high heeled boots and nothing else. The fur coat was held open, the bloodred lining outlining her body dramatically.
"I thought you were going to stay in the background unless I called for you."
She dropped the fur into a fuzzy puddle on the floor. She stalked into the room, swaying everything that would move.
Ronnie and I exchanged glances. She mouthed the words, "What's going on?" I shrugged. I didn't have the faintest idea.
Raina bent over the silk flowers on the coffee table, giving George Smitz a long, thorough view of her slim backside.
The color was draining from his face. His hands were slowly unclenching. He looked confused. Join the club.
Raina smiled up at him. She stood up very slowly, giving George a good view of her high, tight breasts. His eyes were glued to her dйcolletage. She stood up, running her hands down the teddy, ending with a pass over her groin. George seemed to be having a little trouble swallowing.
Raina walked up to him until she was just a finger's pull away from him. She looked up at him and whispered out of full, sensuous lips, "Where's Jason?"
He frowned. "Who's Jason?"
She caressed his cheek with her painted nails. The nails slid out of her skin long and longer, until they were great hooking claws. The tips were still the color of burnt pumpkins.
She hooked those claws under his chin, putting them just enough in not to break the skin. "The tiniest bit of pressure and you'll have a howling good time once a month."
It was a lie. She was still in human form. She wasn't contagious. All the color had drained from his face. His skin was the color of unbleached paper.
"Where's your wife's body, Mr. Smitz?" I asked. It was a good threat worth more than one question.
"I don't. . don't know what you mean."
"Don't lie to me, George, I don't like it." She raised her other hand in front of his face, and the claws slid out like unsheathed knives.
He whimpered.
"Where's Peggy, George?" She whispered it. The voice was still seductive. She might have been whispering, I love you, instead of a threat.
She kept her claws under his jaw and lowered the other hand slowly. His eyes followed that hand. He tried to move his head down, but the claws stopped him. He gasped.
Raina sliced through the bloody apron. Two quick, hard slices. The clothes underneath were untouched. Talent.
"I. . killed her. I killed Peggy. Oh, God. I shot her."
"Where's the body?" I asked that. Raina seemed to be enjoying her game too much to pay attention to all the details.
"Shed out back. It's got a dirt floor."
"Where's Jason?" Raina asked. She touched claw tips to his jeans, over his groin.
"Oh, God, I don't know who Jason is. Please, I don't know. I don't know." His voice was coming in breathy gasps.
Gabriel walked into the room. He'd lost the jacket somewhere and wore a tight black T-shirt with his leather pants and boots. "He doesn't have the guts to have taken Jason or the others."
"Is that right, George? You don't have the guts?" Raina pressed her breasts against his chest, claws still at his jawline and groin. The lower claws pressed into the jean fabric, not quite tearing.
"Please, please don't hurt me."
Raina put her face very close to his. Claws forcing him to stand on tiptoes or have his chin spitted. "You are pathetic." She shoved the claws into his jeans, tearing into the fabric.
George fainted. Raina had to pull her hands away to keep from slicing him up. She kept a near perfect circle of jeans. His white briefs showed through the hole in his pants.
Gabriel knelt by the body, balancing on the balls of his feet. "This human did not take Jason."
"Pity," Raina said.
It was a pity. Somebody had taken eight, no seven shapeshifters. The eighth had been Peggy Smitz. We had her murderer on the carpet with his fly torn out. Who had taken them, and why? Why would anybody want seven lycanthropes? Something clicked. The naga had been skinned alive. If he'd been a lycanthrope instead of a naga, a witch could have used the skin to become a snake. It was a way to be a shapeshifter with all the advantages and none of the bad stuff. The moon didn't control you.
"Anita, what is it?" Ronnie asked.
"I have to go to the hospital and talk to someone."
"Why?" A look was enough for Ronnie to say, "Fine, I'll call the cops. But I drove."
"Damn." I glanced up and caught sight of a car driving by on the street. It was a Mazda, green. I knew that car.
"I may have a ride." I opened the door and walked down the sidewalk, waving. The car slowed, then double-parked beside Ronnie's car.
The window whirred down at the press of a button. Edward sat behind the wheel, a pair of dark glasses covering his eyes. "I've been following Raina for days. How'd you spot me?"
"Dumb luck."
He grinned. "Not so dumb."
"I need a ride."
"What about Raina and her little leather friend?"
It occurred to me to tell him that Gabriel was the other lycanthrope in the snuff film, but if I did that now, he'd go in and kill him. Or at least wouldn't want to take me to the hospital. Priorities.
"We can either give them a ride home or they can take a taxi."
"Taxi," he said.
"My preference, too."
Edward drove around the block to wait for me. Raina and Gabriel were persuaded to call a taxi to pick them up in front of another house. They didn't want to talk to the police. Fancy that. George Smitz came to, and Raina convinced him to confess to the police when they arrived. I apologized to Ronnie for deserting her and walked down the block to meet Edward. We were off to the hospital to talk to the naga. Here's hoping he'd gained consciousness.
35
There was a uniformed officer standing outside the naga's room. Edward had stayed in the car. After all, he was wanted by the police. One of the bad things about working with Edward and the cops is that you can't necessarily work with them at the same time.
The cop at the door was a small woman with a blond ponytail. There was a chair beside the door, but she was standing, one hand on her gun butt. Her pale eyes squinted suspiciously at me.
She gave a curt nod. "You Anita Blake?"
"Yeah."
"See some ID?" she said, real tough, no nonsense. Had to be a rookie. Only a rookie had that hard-on attitude. Older cops would have asked for ID, but they wouldn't have tried to make their voices lower.
I showed her my plastic ID badge. The one I clipped to my shirt when I had to cross a police line. It wasn't a police badge, but it was the best I had.
She took it in her hand and looked at it for a long time. I fought the urge to ask if she was going to be tested later. It never helps to piss the police off. Especially over trivialities.