Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [1059]
I only recognized one person other than the swan king and his entourage. I’d met Christine for the first time at the Lunatic Cafe back when Raina still owned it, and Marcus, her Ulfric, was still trying to control all the other wereanimals in town and make himself high supreme commander, whether everyone else agreed or not. Christine’s hair was still blond, short, professional. She was dressed in a navy business suit. Her powder blue shirt was partially unbuttoned, as if she’d removed a tie, though I don’t think she had. She was perched on the other end of the couch from Donovan, her sensible navy pumps still on. Almost everyone else had gotten casual. There were a pile of shoes near my front door.
“Hi, Christine, it’s been a while,” I said.
She looked up at me, and it wasn’t a friendly look. “I’m impressed you remembered my name.”
“I tend to remember people I meet under stressful situations.”
I got the tiniest smile out of her. “Well, we do seem to meet under less than pleasant circumstances,” she said.
Donovan took over then, introducing me to the man and woman sitting between them. They were both dark-complected. Their bone structure was pure middle America, nothing special, but their eyes were too big, too dark, the hair truly black. There was something exotic about them that straight European just doesn’t give you. They also looked amazingly alike, like male and female versions of each other. They were Ethan and Olivia MacNair, respectively.
The man in my white chair was bulky, not muscled, or fat, just big. He had the fullest beard I’d ever seen. The thick hair covered most of his face and neck. He was introduced as Boone, and the moment he turned small dark eyes to me, I knew he was something that would eat me if it could. Not wolf, not cat, but something with teeth.
His voice was a rumbling bass, so low it almost hurt to hear it. “Ms. Blake.”
I nodded. “Mr. Boone.”
He shook his head, the dark beard rubbing back and forth over his white shirt. “Just Boone, no mister.”
“Boone,” I said.
Nathaniel, Zane, and Cherry were bringing in kitchen chairs so the last four people could sit down. Two women, two men, were left. One man was slender with golden red hair, and strangely up-tilted green eyes. He sat on the floor, huddled against the side of the couch as if he were hiding.
“That’s Gilbert,” Donovan said.
“Gil,” he said, voice almost too soft to hear.
The woman was tall, nearly six feet, broad-shouldered, strong-looking. Her hair was brown, streaked with gray, pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail. Her face was bare of makeup. She offered me a hand, and gave me one of the best handshakes I’ve ever had from another woman. Her brown eyes were deep with worry, as she said, “I’m Janet Talbot. It’s good of you to see us all on such short notice.”
“I didn’t come here to make small talk.” This from a woman who was standing on the far side of the room, near the big picture window. She was looking out through the closed sheers, hands gripping her elbows, nervous tension singing along her straight spine, as she turned to face the room. I could see where Ethan and Olivia had gotten the dark skin and their exotic look. Nilisha MacNair was about my size but even more delicately put together, so that she seemed smaller. A man might think words like birdlike, kittenish, until he looked in her eyes. Once you looked into those dark, dark eyes, you knew better. The eyes gave the lie to the packaging. She was hell on wheels and used to getting her own way.
A man stood near her, but not too near. He was as tall, as blond, as pale, as she was small, black-haired, and dark. He was also muscled in a way that nature does not do. His shoulders were broad, waist narrow, hands large enough