Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [698]
He offered his hand first to Jean-Claude, and said what Jean-Claude usually didn’t like to hear. “Master, our friend from Cape Cod begs a word.” His words were utterly polite, but his face glowed with some suppressed excitement. Something had filled our usually solemn Asher with delight, but what?
Jean-Claude arched an eyebrow, as if he wanted to ask what was up, too.
Asher’s voice floated through my mind. “The new power level is amazing.”
I felt Richard jerk, as if he’d been hit.
I looked at him, and saw from his wide eyes that he’d probably heard it, too. The next mind whisper held a trace of laughter to it. “My apologies. I only meant Jean-Claude to hear, but I confess to having some trouble controlling all the new abilities.”
Jean-Claude squeezed my hand, and it was his voice that came next. “Calm, we must all be calm for our guests.”
Richard let his breath out slow, and gave a small nod. His abilities didn’t lie with the dead, so he wasn’t used to vamps, other than Jean-Claude, talking mind-to-mind with him. Even I wasn’t used to them doing it by accident. How much power had he gained from this one feeding, and how much had others of our vampires gained? There were one or two I wasn’t sure I wanted more powerful than they already were. Meng Die, for one.
Samuel and Sampson stood in front of the love seat. Asher led us to the couch across from them. The white carpet seemed emptier than normal. Oh, the coffee table was missing. Had we broken it after the ardeur rose? I couldn’t remember.
I had my best professional smile plastered on my face, the one that’s bright and cheery as a lightbulb, and about as warm. But it was the best I could do. I’d had about all the out-of-town visitors I could deal with for one night.
“Samuel, Sampson, you have not met our Richard.”
Samuel bowed toward us. “Ulfric, it is good to meet you at last.”
Sampson bowed a little lower than his father, and let him do the talking. They both looked way too solemn for my tastes, as if something else had gone wrong.
“Samuel, what brings you back to us tonight?” Jean-Claude asked. If he was tired of visitors it didn’t show in his voice. He sounded pleasant, welcoming, the perfect host.
“First, the apology I owe you on behalf of my wife. I worry that something about her nature affected your servant, and may have helped cause what happened tonight.”
I blinked at him, felt my smile slip a notch. Was this all someone else’s fault? Was I going to have someone else to blame? Goody.
Jean-Claude sat down on the white couch, not so much pulling me down with him as leading, as you do in a dance. He sat, and I followed his lead, and Richard followed mine. Jean-Claude kept my hand in his, but Richard let go, and put his arm along the back of the couch. He was touching mostly me, but his hand moved along Jean-Claude’s back, and ended lost in the thick curls of his hair.
“Where is your lovely wife, and your other sons?” Jean-Claude asked.
Asher sat in the overstuffed chair closest to us. He matched the chair and pillows perfectly, all white and gold. He still looked entirely too pleased with himself, like the proverbial cat with cream.
Samuel sat down on the love seat, and Sampson followed his father’s lead. “They are at a hotel along with our two guards. I did not feel it wise to bring Thea and Anita together again tonight.”
“What did she think of the show?” I asked.
Jean-Claude’s hand tightened on my hand, where he held it in his lap. The squeeze was enough: Be nice, he was saying. I’d be nice. My version of it.
Richard had gone very quiet beside me, his arm tensed against my back. But it wasn’t a warning to be careful, because his body temperature went up, as if he was thinking what I was thinking: was there someone else to get angry with, someone besides ourselves? Richard and I both preferred to be angry at other people.
“Thea was much impressed,” he said,