Blood Noir - Laurell K. Hamilton [145]
“Genetics, Edmond, nothing but genetics.”
“I have answered your question, now you answer mine. What is your last name?”
“Blake,” I said.
The quiet was strangely loud, as if I could feel him thinking furiously. “Anita Blake,” he said, finally.
“Yes,” I said.
“Anita Blake, human servant to Jean-Claude, Master of the City of St. Louis?”
“Among other things, yes.”
“We did not know. I swear to you we did not know. We were told the room belonged to Keith, and Lorna was with him. We would never have harmed the human servant of another Master of the City.”
“Yeah, vampire law frowns on that.”
“I swear to you that I would never have sent these two to harm you. When I saw you, and realized you were not Lorna. I was told that these two were professional. I was misinformed. I mean, what sort of vampire mistakes a human for another vampire?”
“A bad one,” I said.
“Why were you with Keith Summerland?”
“Did he tell you his name was Jason Schuyler?”
“Yes, but you only have to look at him to know he is one of the Summerland twins.”
“They were always getting mistaken for each other in school,” I said. I was calm; my voice had almost no inflection. Part shock and part certainty. I was going to kill Edmond, because killing him would most likely kill his master, and I wanted his master dead. Revenge, yes, but also, Edmond couldn’t let me walk out of here. I’d tell Jean-Claude, and he knew I would. If Edmond was to hide his mistake from his master, he had to kill us.
“What are you saying?”
“Don’t master vampires keep track of the names of the pommes de sang of other masters of the cities?”
“Not really, they are food.”
“We’re Belle Morte’s bloodline; I guess we treat our food better. Jason really isn’t Keith Summerland. He really is my boyfriend. He really is Jean-Claude’s pomme de sang. Do you know what vampire protocol is about harming someone’s pomme de sang, Edmond?”
“You can always get more food.”
“Do-you-know-what-vampire-protocol-is-on-the-harming-of-another-master’s-pomme-de-sang?” My voice wasn’t neutral now. I was beginning to rediscover my anger. If Edmond really meant to flee and leave us alive, he’d have started to leave then, but he was closer to us when he spoke next.
“It is within the master’s right to either demand a new pomme de sang from the offending master, or challenge the master to a duel.”
“I don’t think we’d like the kind of pomme de sang your master would choose, Edmond.”
“Jean-Claude would challenge my master to a duel?”
“Something like that,” I said.
“The pomme de sang is not dead. Let me call for help, get him to a hospital.”
“I’ve already called,” I said. “They should be here soon.”
“You called for help?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before you came.”
“I don’t mean you any harm, Anita Blake.”
“Then why aren’t you running away, Edmond? I’ve told you the police are coming, but you’re still standing there. Why don’t you run?”
“What will you do if you trace my master back to his city?”
“What do you think I’ll do?”
“You are not just Jean-Claude’s human servant; you are also a vampire executioner. Would you try to get a warrant against my master?”
“I don’t know who your master is, Edmond.”
“Do not treat me as if I am stupid. There are not that many Masters of the City.”
“How many are married to a Lorna, you mean? How many have human servants named Edmond? I guess it does have to be a short list,” I said.
I heard him chamber a round into his gun. It’s funny, but once you know the sound of a slide going back, you never mistake it for anything else. I aimed my gun at the doorway, raising my knee up a little to help steady me, because my other arm was still touching Jason.
I saw his gun come around the doorjamb. I think he expected me to wait to see more of him, but I’d used this gun, this ammo, and it was an old house. I shot through the wall, behind his hand. He made a satisfying sound, a pain sound, and then he shot