Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [824]
“You’re going to torture me. Great,” I said.
He drew back from me, just a little. “It is not torture. It is the way all my priests waited for my waking.”
“Who brought your priests back?” I asked.
“I wakened Tlaloci, but I was weak and I had no more blood to give the others. Then before we could raise the others the man you call Riker disturbed our place of rest.” He stared off into space, as if he were seeing it over again. “He found what you called the mummies of my priests. Many were torn apart by his men, searching for jewels inside them.” Anger darkened his face, stole the peacefulness from his eyes. “The Quetzalcoatl was not yet awake or we would have killed them all. They took things that belonged to my priests. It forced me to find a different way to give them back their lives.”
“The skins,” I said.
He looked down at me. “Yes, there are ways to make them give life.”
“So you hunted down the people who desecrated your . . . sleeping place, and the people who bought the things that belonged to your people.”
“Yes,” he said.
I guess from a certain point of view it was fair. If you had no ability to feel mercy, then it was a dandy plan. “You killed and took the organs from the people who were gifted,” I said.
“Gifted?” he made it a question.
“Witches, brujos.”
“Ah, yes, I did not wish to leave them alive to hunt us before I came into my power.” He was touching my face again, stroking it. I think he was getting back on track to give me his “kiss”.
“What exactly does coming into your power mean?” I asked. As long as I could keep him talking, he wouldn’t be killing me. I could think of questions all night long.
“I will be mortal and immortal.”
I widened eyes at him. “What do you mean mortal?”
“Your blood will make me mortal. Your essence will make me immortal.”
I frowned at him. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
He cupped my face in his hands like a lover. “How could you possibly understand the ways of gods.” He held out his hand, and the skin-man handed him a long bone needle. Maybe I didn’t know what he was going to do.
“What’s that for?”
He held the needle, maybe four inches long, twirling it slowly between his fingers. “I will pierce your ear lobe and drink your blood. It will be a small pain.”
“You keep saying you want me to believe in you, but you’re the only one who never seems to be in pain. Your priests, the people who stole from you, all the sacrifices, everybody hurts but you.”
He propped himself up on one elbow, his body snug against mine. “If my pain will convince you of my sincerity, then so be it.” He jabbed the needle into his finger, deep, deep enough to touch bone. He drew the needle out slowly, making it hurt as much as he could. I waited for blood to come to the surface, but it didn’t. He held the finger so I could see the hole the needle had left, but the hole was empty, no blood. As I watched, the wound closed like water smoothing, perfect once more. The knife wasn’t going to do me any good, not against him.
“Does my pain make your pain less?” he asked.
“I’ll let you know,” I said.
He smiled, so patient, so kind. So full of it. He started moving the needle towards my left ear. I could have fought him with my free hand, but if all he was going to do was pierce my earlobe like I’d seen at the nightclub, then he could do that. I didn’t like the idea, but I wasn’t going to fight him. If I fought now, they might chain my hand back up. I wanted the free hand more than I wanted to keep him from sucking on my ear.
Truth is, I don’t like needles, not just doctor needles, any of them. I have a phobia about small pointed things in my body. Knives don’t seem to bother me, but needles do. Go figure. It was a phobia. To keep from struggling, I finally had to close my eyes because otherwise I’d have fought. I just couldn’t help it.
The pain was sharp and immediate. I