Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [937]
“Damn it, Peter.”
“You won’t give your word and then lie, will you?” His voice held question, and almost wonderment, as if he didn’t quite believe it.
“No, not as a general rule, no.”
“Edward said you wouldn’t, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. But you really won’t, will you?”
“No,” I said. “Happy now?”
“Yes,” he said, though his voice didn’t sound exactly happy. “Tell me what’s wrong. Why do you need Edward’s help?”
“I need to talk to Edward, but I won’t tell you why, or what it’s about.”
“I’m not a baby, Anita.”
“I know that.”
“No, you don’t,” he said.
I sighed. “I don’t think you’re a baby, but you are a kid, Peter. You’re grown-up for sixteen, but I’d like to keep some of the darker shit away from you until you reach at least eighteen. If Edward wants to share with you later, that’s his lookout.”
“You might as well tell me, Anita. If I ask, he’ll tell me.”
I hoped he was wrong, but was afraid he was right. “If Edward wants you to know, he’ll tell you, Peter. But I am not going to tell you, and that’s final.”
“Is it that bad?” he asked, and I heard the first thread of worry.
Shit, again. I just couldn’t win conversations with Peter. I’d only had a handful of them lately, but he always seemed to talk me into a box. “Get Edward on the phone, Peter, now.”
“I can handle myself in a fight, Anita. I can help.”
Shit, shit, and double shit. I was not going to win this conversation. “I’m hanging up now, Peter.”
“No, Anita, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” And his voice went from that cynical grown-up to an almost childlike panic. The panic had worked better before his voice deepened. “Don’t hang up, please, I’ll get Ted.” The phone hit wood so hard, I had to put the phone away from my ear. He came back on, saying, “Sorry, dropped the phone. I’m getting dressed. I’ll go knock on their door. If it’s bad enough for you to call Edward, then you need to talk to him. I’ll stop being a kid and just get him for you.” He was a little angry with me, but mostly frustrated. He wanted to help. He wanted to grow up. He wanted to fight for real, whatever the hell that meant. What was Edward teaching him? Did I really want to know? No. Would I ask? Yes, unfortunately, yes. God, I did not need another problem on my plate right now. I thought about trying to lie to Edward, say I’d just called up to chat about the latest issue of Mercenaries Quarterly, but if I wasn’t up to lying to Peter, Edward was absolutely out of my weight class.
10
I SAT ON the edge of the bathtub, waiting for Edward to come to the phone. I’d insisted on privacy for the phone call, though I’d told Jean-Claude and Micah who I was trying to call. Jean-Claude had said only, “Help would not be unwelcome.” The comment said, clearly, that he was worried. The more worried I realized he was, the more worried I got.
I heard noise over the phone, movement. The phone was picked up, and I heard Edward’s voice say, “Hang up the other extension, Peter.” A second later he spoke directly into the phone. “Anita, Peter said you needed help, my kind of help.” His voice was that empty-middle-of-nowhere accent. It was his normal voice; when he was playing Ted Forrester, good ol’ boy, he had a drawl.
“I didn’t say I needed help,” I said.
“Then why did you call?”
“Can’t I just call to chat?”
He laughed, and the laugh was strangely familiar. I realized it was an echo of Peter’s laugh earlier, or maybe Peter’s laugh was an echo of Edward’s. They weren’t genetically related, I knew that, so what was with the laugh? Imitation, maybe.
“You would never call me just to chat, Anita. That’s not what we do for each other.” He laughed again, and murmured, “Called to chat,” as if the idea were too ridiculous for words.
“I do not need you to be condescending, thanks anyway.” I was angry and had no right to be. I’d called him, and it was me I was angry at. I was wishing I hadn’t called—for so many reasons.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, not taking