Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [411]
“Because, eventually, everyone says no.”
“You are terribly young to be so cynical,” he said.
“It’s a gift,” I said and put the machete back in its sheath, and that went on top of the bag that Graham had waiting. He was awfully efficient for a werewolf.
“No,” Requiem said, “it is not. It is something learned through harsh experience.”
Speaking of harsh experience, I had to check something. I knelt on the now pristine grave. I laid a hand on the hard ground.
“What are you doing, Anita?” Requiem asked.
“This zombie fought me more than most. It seemed more . . . real. I’m just checking to make sure that it is back to being bones and rags.”
“Why, what happens if he isn’t?” Graham asked.
I closed my eyes and opened just a little of that metaphysical hand that I’d had to squeeze back into a fist. “Then the zombie would be trapped down there, thinking, aware, but imprisoned. He won’t rot. He can’t die.” I thrust my power into that cold ground. It was quiet down there, peaceful again. Bones and rags were all that lay underneath. Good.
“Could you really trap someone like that?” Graham asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t want to take the chance. I wouldn’t want to leave anyone down there like that.” I dusted my hands off.
“Is it okay?” Graham asked.
“Yeah, just bones.”
“Vampires do not die when buried, either,” Requiem said. “There have been accidents where new vampires were buried too deep, or those that were appointed to retrieve them failed.”
Graham shuddered. “That’s just creepy.”
I stood and I almost fell. Requiem caught me, steadied me. “Is that buried alive stuff what they tell bad little vampires?”
He looked at me, and there were suddenly centuries of pain in those eyes. “I, too, have learned from harsh experience.”
“Just get me to Guilty Pleasures, and we’ll try to avoid adding tonight to the harsh list.”
“As my lady commands,” he said, smiling, and offering his arm. I took his arm and let him walk me to the Jeep, because I wasn’t sure I could have walked that far without falling over. I didn’t feel well enough to mark Nathaniel in public. I felt weak and ill, and didn’t want to be part of the show, but I also needed to feed, and he’d be furry after the show. Choices, choices, too many damn choices, and not enough options.
42
I WAS COLD by the time we got to the Jeep. Graham had to drive, and I wouldn’t ride without a seat belt, so we worked out a compromise. I rode in the backseat with the blanket, and Requiem did his best to cuddle with me while I was strapped into the seat. Which was a lot harder than it sounded.
He started with his arm around my shoulders, his body pressed as close to my side as he could get. The blanket spread over us. He was warm, warm with the blood he’d taken from me, but his wasn’t the heat of the werewolf, and sitting side-by-side wasn’t as warm as sitting in someone’s lap. By the time we’d pulled out of the cemetery I was shivering. A mile or so down Gravois and my body started to do those little involuntary spasms.
Requiem gripped my hand under the blanket. “Your hand is cool to the touch.”
“Yeah,” I said.
He wrapped his arms tighter around me, and the blanket slid off. He grabbed it, tried to spread it back over us both. “Allow me to unbelt you. Allow me to hold you as Graham did.”
“If”—and I had to fight past chattering teeth—“we get in an accident, I could die.”
“It is true you are no vampire and couldn’t survive a car crash, but it is also true that a vampire that goes too long without a feeding, cannot die. They may whither, as a grape upon the vine, but they will spring back to plump, ripe, life with the first taste of blood. I fear that you will not.”
My teeth began to chatter as if I was sitting on snow instead of in a car with the heater on high and a warm man wrapped around me. I was so cold that my muscles were beginning to ache from it.
“Allow me at least to cover more of your body with my own. I know you felt that