• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

I started to hang the phone up, but dialed Richard’s number instead. He answered on the second ring, which meant he’d been waiting up. Damn.

“Richard, it’s me.”

“Anita, where are you?” His voice sounded relieved, then cautious. “I mean, are you coming back here tonight?”

The answer was no, but not for the reasons he feared. I told him what had happened, the shortest possible version.

“Whose idea was it that you stay with Jean-Claude?” There was a hint of anger in his voice.

“I am not staying with Jean-Claude. I am staying at the Circus.”

“And the difference is what?”

“Look, Richard, I am too tired to argue with you about this. Edward suggested it, and you know he likes Jean-Claude even less than you do.”

“I doubt that,” he said.

“Richard, I did not call you to fight. I called to tell you what’s happening.”

“I appreciate the call.” I’d never heard him sound so sarcastic. “Do you want your clothes?”

“Damn, I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“I’ll bring them to the Circus.”

“You don’t have to do that, Richard.”

“You don’t want me to?”

“No, I’d love to have my stuff, and not just the clothes if you get my drift?”

“I’ll bring it all.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll pack a bag for myself.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I’ve stayed at the Circus before. Remember, I used to be one of Jean-Claude’s wolves.”

“I remember. Should you ask Jean-Claude’s permission before you invite yourself over?”

“I’ll phone first. Unless you don’t want me there tonight.” His voice was very quiet.

“If it’s okay with Jean-Claude, it’s fine with me. I could use the moral support.”

He let out a breath like he’d been holding it. “Great. Great, I’ll see you there.”

“I have to give a statement to the cops about the incident at Danse Macabre. It could take a couple of hours, so don’t rush.”

“Afraid Jean-Claude will hurt me?” He was quiet for a moment. “Or are you afraid I’ll hurt him?”

I thought about that. “Worried about you.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, and I could hear him smile.

The reason I wasn’t worried about Richard is he wasn’t a killer. Jean-Claude was. Richard might start a fight, but Jean-Claude would finish it. I didn’t say any of this out loud. Richard wouldn’t have appreciated it.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight,” he said.

“Even at the Circus?”

“Anywhere. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

We hung up. Neither of us had said good-bye, a Freudian slip, perhaps.

I was betting that Richard and Jean-Claude would find something to fight about, and I was really too tired to mess with it. But if I’d told Richard to stay away, he would have assumed I wanted to be alone with Jean-Claude, which was certainly not true. So they’d have their little fight. Frankly, I had my own fight all picked out, one involving me, Jean-Claude, and Damian. They’d broken the law at Danse Macabre, broken it enough that with the right judge, I might have gotten a warrant of execution on Damian. We could have one great big glorious knock-down, drag-out fight.

I wondered where everybody would sleep, and with who.

21

* * *

CIRCUS of the Damned is a combination of traveling carnival, circus, and one of the lower rungs of hell. Out front, fanged clowns dance above the lights that spell the name. Posters stretch the sides of the building, proclaiming, “Watch zombies rise from the grave. See the Lamia—half-snake, half-woman.” There is no trickery at the Circus, everything advertised is absolutely real. It is one of the few vampire tourist attractions that welcome children. If I’d had a kid, I wouldn’t have brought the little tyke near the place. Even I didn’t feel safe.

Edward had picked me up outside the police station, just like he said he would. My statement had taken three hours, not two. The only reason I got out that soon was Bob, Catherine’s husband and fellow lawyer, had finally told them to charge me or let me go. Truthfully, I thought they might charge me. But I had three witnesses saying the killing was self-defense, witnesses that I’d never met before tonight. That helped. The DA usually didn’t charge