Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [334]
He stood so close that the purple cloth brushed the length of Richard’s body. He moved around him so closely that the cloth never stopped touching, sliding over the tailored tux like a cloth hand. “Padma has not gained such power from his joining.” He ended standing between Jean-Claude and Richard. He raised a hand to stroke Richard’s face, and Richard caught his wrist.
“That’s enough,” Richard said.
The Traveler drew his wrist slowly downward so that his hand brushed Richard’s. He turned to Balthasar with a smile. “What do you think?”
“I think Jean-Claude is a lucky man,” Balthsar said.
A red flush crept up Richard’s face, his hands curled into fists. He was placed in the position usually reserved for women. If you deny that you’re sleeping with someone, they won’t believe you. The harder you deny it, the surer everyone is that you’re guilty.
Richard was smarter than I was. He didn’t try to deny it. He just turned and looked at the Traveler. He stared at him nearly eye to eye and said, “Get away from me.”
All the bad guys laughed. None of us did. Us included Gideon and Thomas, strangely enough. What were they doing with Padma? What series of events had trapped them with him? If we all survived, maybe I’d get a chance to ask them, but it was doubtful. If we killed Padma, they would probably die, too. If Padma killed us, well, there you go.
The Traveler walked over to me in a cloud of purple cloth. “Which brings us to you, Anita.” His new body towered over me, over a foot taller, but hey, you get used to it.
“What?” I said, staring up at him.
He laughed again. He was so damn happy. I realized what it was—afterglow. He and Balthasar had been polishing the family jewels.
I stared up into that smiling face and said, “Is this new body double-jointed or something, or does Balthsar just like a change of menu?”
The laughter faded from his eyes, his face, like the sun sinking below the horizon. What was left was cold and distant and nothing you could talk to.
Maybe I did talk too much.
Jean-Claude touched my shoulders and moved me back. He started to move in front of me, but I stopped him. “I pissed him off. Don’t protect me from him.”
Jean-Claude let me stay in front, but at some unseen signal the rest of our entourage moved up, fanning out behind us.
Yvette and Warrick came out of the hallway with Liv. “You all look good enough to eat.” She laughed at her own joke. She was dressed in a simple white formal. Her bare shoulders were whiter than the cloth. As soon as I saw her, I knew she hadn’t fed. Sleeves that were not attached to the dress covered her from armpit to wrist. The fitted bodice flared into a full white skirt with layers that were mirrored in the layers of the strange unattached sleeves. Her white-blond hair fell in braided loops and whorls around her face. No period costume for Yvette, only the cutting edge of fashion would do. Her makeup was just a little dark against the paper whiteness of her skin, but it was hard to get that understated look when you were so terribly drained.
Warrick wore a white suit with one of those round collars so there was no place to put a tie. It was a lovely suit that matched Yvette’s dress so well, they looked like the top of a fashion wedding cake.
Yvette wore the dress like it had been made just for her. Warrick looked chokingly uncomfortable.
Liv glared at all of us impartially. She was dressed in a blue formal that was meant for a woman with softer edges and less muscle. It had been cut down or up for her, and she wore it badly.
This was the first time I’d seen Liv since I learned that she’d helped torture Sylvie. I expected to regret not having killed her when I had the chance. But there was an uncertainity