Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [354]
That’s the magic, that my imaginary friends surprise the hell out of me over and over again.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Blue Moon
An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1998 by Laurell K. Hamilton
This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.
For information address:
The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,
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ISBN: 1-101-14629-X
An ACE BOOK®
Ace Books first published by The Ace Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ACE and the “A” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.
First edition (electronic): August 2001
This one’s for Shawn Holsapple, brother-in-law, police officer, and kindred spirit.
Acknowledgments
TO MY HUSBAND, Gary, who first took me into the hills of Tennessee.
To my writing group, the Alternate Historians: Tom Drennan, N. L. Drew, Deborah Millitello, Rett MacPherson, Marella Sands, Sharon Shinn, and Mark Sumner, and our newest member, W. Agustus Elliot, who missed the critique of this book by a few months. Here’s to the best writing group I’ve ever been a part of.
Here is the correct address to get messages to me online: laurellk@ricia.com. It was edited by an overzealous copyeditor in the acknowledgments of the last book.
Table of Contents
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46
1
I WAS DREAMING of cool flesh and sheets the color of fresh blood. The phone shattered the dream, leaving only fragments, a glimpse of midnight blue eyes, hands gliding down my body, his hair flung across my face in a sweet, scented cloud. I woke in my own house, miles from Jean-Claude with the feel of his body clinging to me. I fumbled the phone from the bedside table and mumbled, “Hello.”
“Anita, is that you?” It was Daniel Zeeman, Richard’s baby brother. Daniel was twenty-four and cute as a bug’s ear. Baby didn’t really cover it. Richard had been my fiancé once upon a time—until I chose Jean-Claude over him. Sleeping with the other man put a real crimp in our social plans. Not that I blamed Richard. No, I blamed myself. It was one of the few things Richard and I still shared.
I squinted at the glowing dial of the bedside clock. 3:10 A.M. “Daniel, what’s wrong?” No one calls at ten after the witching hour with good news.
He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for the next line. “Richard’s in jail.”
I sat up, sheets sliding in a bundle to my lap. “What did you say?” I was suddenly wide awake, heart thudding, adrenaline pumping.
“Richard is in jail,” he repeated.
I didn’t make him say it again, though I wanted to. “What for?” I asked.
“Attempted rape,” he said.
“What?” I said.
Daniel repeated it. It didn’t make any more sense the second time I heard it. “Richard is like the ultimate Boy Scout,” I said. “I’d believe murder before I’d believe rape.”
“I guess that’s a compliment,” he said.
“You know what I meant, Daniel. Richard wouldn’t do something like that.”