Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [567]
Donna turned those haunted eyes to me. She blinked and seemed to be drawing herself back from the past as if it were a physical effort. She hadn’t made peace with the scene, or it wouldn’t have remained so vivid. If you can begin to make peace, you can tell the most horrible stories as if they happened to someone else, unemotional. Or, maybe you haven’t made peace, but you still tell it like it was an interesting story that happened a long time ago, nothing important. I’ve seen cops that had to get drunk before the pain spilled out into their stories.
Donna was hurting. Peter was hurting. Edward wasn’t hurting. I looked up at him, past Donna’s softly horrified face. His eyes were empty as he looked at me, as waiting and patient as any predator. How dare he step into their lives like this! How dare he cause them more pain! Because whatever happened, whether he married her or didn’t, it was going to be painful. Painful for everyone but Edward. Though maybe I could fix that. If he fucked up Donna’s life, maybe I could fuck up his. Yeah, I liked that. I’d spread the rain around all over his parade.
It must have shone in my eyes for a second or two, because Edward’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment I felt that shiver he could send down my spine with just a glance. He was a very dangerous man, but to protect this family I’d test his limits, and mine. Edward had finally found something that pissed me off enough to maybe press a button that I’d never wanted to touch. He had to leave Donna and her family alone. He had to get out of their lives. I’d see him out of their lives, or else. And there is only one “or else” when you’re dealing with Edward. Death.
We stared at each other over Donna’s head while he hugged her to his chest, stroking her hair, mouthing soothing words to her. But his eyes, his face were all for me, and I knew as we stared at each other that he knew exactly what I was thinking. He knew the conclusion I’d come to, though he might never understand why his involvement with Donna and her kids was the straw that broke the camel’s back. But the look in his eyes was enough. He might not understand why, but he knew the camel was broken in fucking two and there was no way to fix it except to do what I wanted him to do, or die. Just like that, I knew I’d do it. I knew I could look down the barrel of a gun and shoot Edward, and I wouldn’t aim to wound. It was like a cold weight inside my body, a surety that made me feel stronger and a little lonelier. Edward had saved my life more than once. I’d saved his more than once. Yet . . . yet . . . I’d miss Edward, but I’d kill him if I had to. Edward wonders why I’m so sympathetic to the monsters. The answer is simple. Because I am one.
3
WE WALKED OUT INTO the heat, and it blasted against our skin on the edge of a hot wind. It had the feel of a serious heat, and considering that it was only May, it probably would be a real barnburner when true summer finally hit. But it is true that eighty plus without humidity isn’t nearly as miserable as eighty plus with humidity, so it wasn’t horrible. In fact, once you blinked into the sunlight and just got adjusted to the heat, you sort of forgot about it. It was only attention-getting for the first, oh, fifteen minutes or so. St. Louis would probably be ninety plus by the time I got home, and with eighty to a hundred percent humidity. Of course, that meant I’d be going home. If I really drew down on Edward, that was a debatable option. There was a very real possibility that he’d kill me. I hoped, seriously hoped, that I could talk him out of Donna and her family without resorting to violence.
Maybe the heat didn’t seem bad because of the landscape. Albuquerque was a flat empty plain running out and out to a circle