Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [914]
“Anita.” His voice was breathy. It was probably the second time in all the years we’d known each other that he had used my first name. It was usually Ms. Blake.
I responded in kind, smiling. “Clive, it’s good to see you.”
His eyes flicked from me to Nathaniel, then back to me. “You’re supposed to be . . .” He straightened on the stairs. “I mean, we heard . . .” I watched him visibly try to rally. By the time we reached the step he was on, he looked almost normal. But his next question wasn’t normal. “Did you die?”
I smiled, then felt the smile fade as I stared into his eyes. He was serious. I guess I did raise the dead for a living, so the question wasn’t as ridiculous as it sounded, but I was realizing that some of his shock wasn’t just from seeing me walking around. It was from his fear of what I was now. He thought I was the walking dead. In some ways he was closer to the mark than was comfortable, in others he was so far off.
“No, Clive, I didn’t die.”
He nodded, but there was a tightness around his eyes that made me wonder, if I tried to touch his arm, would he flinch? I didn’t want to find out, so Nathaniel and I just walked past him, leaving him alone on the stairs.
I pushed into the squad room with its crowded desks and the busy clatter of people. RPIT had some of its busiest hours after three A.M. The noise died gradually like fading water rings, going out into the room, until I moved in silence between the desks and the staring faces. Nathaniel stayed at my back, moving like an attractive shadow.
I finally said, loud enough to carry through the room, “The rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated.” And the room exploded into noise. I was suddenly surrounded by men, and a few women, hugging me, slapping me on the back, pumping my hand. Smiling faces, relieved eyes. No one else showed the reservations that Clive Perry had shown on the stairs, and it made me wonder about his religious background, or his metaphysical one. He wasn’t a sensitive, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t grown up around people who were.
It was Zerbrowski who picked me completely off the ground in a huge bear hug. He’s only five eight, and not that big, but he spun me around the room, finally putting me down, laughing and a little unsteady on my feet. “Damn, Anita, damn, I thought we were never going to see you come through that door again.” He pushed a tangle of dark curls that were beginning to streak with gray from his forehead. He needed a haircut, but then he usually did. His clothes were the usual mismatch, as if he’d chosen his tie and shirt in the dark. He dressed like he was either color-blind or didn’t give a shit. I was betting on the latter.
“It’s good to see you, too. I hear you’re actually holding someone on suspicion of having killed me.”
His smile faded around the edges. “Yeah, Count Dracula’s in a cell.”
“Can you get him out, because as you see, I am very much alive.”
Zerbrowski’s eyes narrowed. “I saw the pictures, Anita. You were covered in blood.”
I shrugged.
His eyes became cool, suspicious cop eyes. “It’s been what, four nights? You’re looking positively spry for suffering that much blood loss.”
I could feel my own face grow neutral, distant, as cool and unreadable as any cop’s. “Can you get Jean-Claude out and ready to go? I’d like to take him home before it gets light.”
“Dolph’s going to want to talk to you before you leave.”
“I thought he might. Can you please start processing Jean-Claude while I talk to Dolph?”
“You going to take him to your house?”
“I’m going to drop him off at his place, not that it’s any of your business. You’re my friend, Zerbrowski, not my dad.”
“I’ve never wanted to be your dad, Anita. That’s Dolph’s delusion, not mine.”
I sighed. “Yeah.” I looked up at Zerbrowski. “Will you please get Jean-Claude ready to go?”
He looked at me for a second or two, then nodded. “Okay.” He looked past me to Nathaniel, who had