Burnt Offerings - Laurell K. Hamilton [117]
She gripped my hand tight. “Best friends, Anita, forever.”
“Thanks, Ronnie, more than you’ll ever know. I don’t think I’d ever get over losing you as a friend, but don’t decide to stay with me because of loyalty. Think about it, Ronnie, really think about it. My life doesn’t seem to be getting any safer. If anything, it’s getting more dangerous. You might want to think about whether you want to be in the line of fire.” Just making the offer made my eyes burn. I squeezed her hand and turned away before she could see that the scourge of vampirekind was tearing up.
She didn’t call me back and profess undying friendship. I’d half wanted her to, but the other half was glad she was really thinking about it. If Ronnie got herself killed because of me, I just might pull the guilt down over my ears and crawl into a hole. I caught Richard watching me from the doorway below the stairs. Maybe he and I could share a hole together. That’d be punishment enough.
“What’s happened now?” he asked. He’d dried his hair into a shining mass of waves that slid over the top of his shoulders as he moved into the room. He’d put his jeans back on and found a shirt that fit him. It was a large T-shirt with a caricature of Arthur Conan Doyle on it. I used it for sleeping. It was a little snug on Richard through the shoulders and chest. Not small, mind you, just tight. On me the shirt hung nearly to my knees.
“See you found the blow-dryer and the T-shirt drawer. Help yourself,” I said.
“Answer my question,” he said.
“Ask Jamil. He’s got all the details.”
“I asked you,” Richard said.
“I don’t have time to stand here and tell it twice. I’ve got to go to work.”
“Police or vampire?”
“You used to ask that because you worried more if I was out on a vampire execution. You were always relieved if it was just police work. Why the hell do you want to know now, Richard? What do you care?” I walked out without waiting for an answer.
I had to step over the dead man on my porch. I hoped the cops got there soon. It was a typical July day in St. Louis—hot and claustophobically humid. The body would start to smell if it didn’t get carried away soon. Just another of the many joys of summer.
My Jeep was in the garage, where it should have been. I’d let Jean-Claude use it to ferry everyone here. Though he hadn’t driven. I’d never met an older vamp that drove. The older ones tended to be a bit technophobic. I was actually backing out of the garage when I saw Richard in the rearview mirror. He looked angry. I thought very seriously about just continuing out. He’d move. But just in case he’d be stupid enough not to, I waited for him to come up to the driver’s-side window.
I pressed the button and the window whirred down like it was supposed to. “What?” I asked. I let that one word be as hostile as his eyes.
“Three of my pack in danger. Three of my people may be under arrest, and you didn’t tell me.”
“I’m taking care of it, Richard.”
“It’s my job to take care of my wolves.”
“You want to go down there in person and announce that you’re their Ulfric? You can’t even go down there and be their friend because that might jeopardize your precious secret.”
He gripped the edge of the window hard enough for his fingers to grow pale. “Most pack leaders have secret identities, Anita. You know that.”
“Raina was your public alpha, Richard. She would have gone down to the hospital for them. But she’s dead. You can’t go. Who’s left?”
Something popped in the door.
“I will be pissed if you break my car,” I said.
He moved his hands slowly as if he needed something to hold just to keep his hands busy. “Don’t get too comfortable as lupa, Anita. I am going to replace you.”
We stared at each other from less than a foot away. Once he’d have come out to the car for one last goodbye kiss. Now it was one last fight.
“Fine, but until you find someone else, I’m all you’ve got. Now I’ve got to go and see if I can keep our wolves out