Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [910]
I smoothed the stockings in place, glad that I wasn’t having to struggle with pantyhose anymore. Garter and stockings really are more comfortable. The bathroom was empty as I pushed the door open. I started for the sinks when I saw the box sitting across one of them. “Anita” was printed on the box in black block letters.
That little dickens. How had Nathaniel gotten in here to leave a present? If he’d been caught in the ladies’ restroom, it could have gone badly. I washed and dried my hands, then opened the box. I had to fold back layers of white tissue paper before I found a mask. It was white and would have covered everything but the eyes from forehead to chin. It was utterly plain, a blank white face staring up at me. Why would he buy me this? If it had been leather and fetish-looking, I might have guessed something more adventurous on the sexual front, but this didn’t look like that kind of mask. Of course, I wasn’t an expert on that kind of mask, so maybe that was what it was for. If so, he hadn’t sold me on the idea. I didn’t like masks, and I was far from comfortable with bondage and submission. The fact that I had leanings that way myself hadn’t made me like it more; on the contrary, it scared me more because of it. You hate most in others what you’re afraid of in yourself.
I tried to find an expression that was neutral, but pleased, and walked out carrying the box. Nathaniel was waiting against the far wall, holding both our coats and his hat. The leather hat got hot indoors. He smiled when he saw me and walked toward me with a quizzical look on his face. “Did someone leave that in the bathroom?”
I showed him that it had my name on it. “I thought you were trying to surprise me.”
“You hate surprises,” he said.
My pulse sped up, not a lot, but a little. I moved us so that the wall was at my back. I was suddenly looking at the people near us, looking hard; but everyone looked innocent, or at least not guilty. Couples holding hands, families with kids in tow: it all looked normal.
“What’s in there?” Nathaniel asked.
“A mask,” I whispered.
“Can I see it?”
I nodded.
He moved the lid and tissue paper, while I kept searching the happy moviegoers for evil intent. There was a couple staring a little too hard at us, but that could be other things.
“It looks like someone started to make a mask and stopped before they finished,” he said.
“Yeah, it looks too blank.”
“Why would someone give you this?”
“Did you see someone carry this in?”
“It’s a big box, Anita. I’d have noticed.”
“Did anyone carry in a bigger-than-average purse?”
“Not one big enough to hide this.”
“You were standing right there, Nathaniel. You had to see.”
We exchanged a look. “I didn’t see this.”
“Shit,” I said low and with feeling.
“Someone was messing with you earlier, and they messed with me to get inside the bathroom,” he said.
“Did you sense anything?” I asked.
He thought about it, and finally shook his head. “No.”
“Double shit.”
“Call Jean-Claude, now,” he said.
I nodded and handed him the box so I could use my cell phone. Nathaniel wrapped the mask back up while I waited for Jean-Claude to pick up. This time he actually answered his office phone himself. “I got a present,” I said.
“What did our pussycat buy you?” he asked, not offended that I hadn’t said hello first.
“Nathaniel didn’t buy it.”
“It is not like you to speak in riddles, ma petite.”
“Ask me what it is,” I said.
“What is it?” and his voice was sliding into that blankness he did so well.
“A mask.”
“What color is it?”
“You don’t sound surprised,” I said.
“What color is it, ma petite?”
“What does that matter?”
“It matters.”
“White, why?”
He let out a breath I hadn’t known he was holding, and spoke softly and heatedly in French for several minutes, until I could get him calmed down enough to speak English to me.
“It is good news, and bad, ma petite.