Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [740]
I put my back against the wood of the headboard. It felt real and solid. But I didn’t like sitting there naked in front of her. I wished I had a gown, and the thought was enough. I was suddenly wearing a white silk gown. Dream, because I’d been able to change it. Dream, it would be okay. It was just a dream. The knot in my gut didn’t believe me, but the rest of me tried to believe.
I thought of several questions to ask that shadow, and finally settled for, “Why are you here?”
“You interest me.”
It was like having the devil suddenly take a personal notice of you; not good. “I’ll try to be less interesting.”
“I am almost awake.”
I was suddenly cold down to my toes.
“I can taste your fear, necromancer.”
I swallowed hard, and couldn’t keep my voice from being breathy. “Why are you here, Marmee Noir?”
“I need something to wake me after such a long sleep.”
“What?”
“You, perhaps.”
I frowned at her. “I don’t understand.”
The shadow began to grow more solid, until she was a small female figure in a black cloak. I could almost see her face, almost, and I knew I did not want to. To see the face of darkness was to die.
“Jean-Claude has still not made you his, still not crossed that last line with you. Until he does, another more powerful than he can take what is his, and finish it.”
“I am bound to a vampire,” I said.
“Yes, you have a vampire servant, but that does not close the other door.” She was suddenly sitting at my feet. I tucked my feet up, and pushed myself against the headboard. It was a dream, just a dream, she couldn’t really hurt me, but I didn’t believe it.
She spread a hand wide, and the hand was carved of darkness. “I thought this guise would make me less frightening, but you cringe from me. I am wasting a great deal of energy to speak to you in dream, rather than invade your mind further, yet still you fear me.” She sighed, and the sound of it flittered through the room. “Perhaps I have lost the knack of being human, even to pretend. Perhaps if I have lost the knack, I should stop trying—what do you think, necromancer? Should I show you my true form?”
“Is this a trick question?” I asked.
I felt her frown, rather than saw it, because I couldn’t see her face yet.
“I mean, is there a good answer here? I don’t think seeing your true form would be a good thing, but I don’t really want you to keep playing humanish for me, either.”
“Then what do you want?”
I wanted Jean-Claude awake to help me answer this question. Out loud I said, “I don’t know how to answer that question.”
“Of course you do; humans always want something.”
“You to go away.”
I felt her smile. “This is not working, is it?”
“I don’t know what was supposed to work,” I said. I was hugging my knees now, because I did not want her touching me, not even in dream.
She stood, in the middle of the bed, then I realized that wasn’t exactly it. She stood, but then she kept growing, stretching up and up, like some black flame. The light reflected off whatever she was becoming, as off water, or sparkling rock. How could something gleam and give no light? How could something both reflect light and absorb it?
“If you are afraid of me anyway, then why pretend?” Her voice echoed through the room like a rush of wind. I could smell rain on the edge of that wind. “Let there be truth between us, necromancer.”
She vanished; no, she became the dark. She became the darkness in the room. One minute she was a central point, almost a body, the next she was the darkness. She hung in the dark of the room, and that darkness had weight and knowledge. I was like every other human who had ever huddled around the fire because they could feel the darkness pressing around them. Feel the darkness waiting for them. She didn’t try to talk to me now, she simply was, not words, not even images, but something I had no words for. She simply was. A summer night does