Burnt Offerings - Laurell K. Hamilton [64]
I stared up at him. “Want to bet?”
He shook his head, Hannah’s blond hair bouncing back and forth just like in the shampoo commercial. He laughed, and it was girlish. “Oh, no, Anita Blake, I will not bargain with you again this night.” He started down the steps. He’d taken off the high heels, and glided down the stairs in stocking feet. “But there will be other nights.”
“I asked for safe passage and you gave it,” I said. “You can’t hurt us anymore.”
“I gave safe passage for tonight only, Anita.”
“I do not remember a time limit being placed on your promise,” Jean-Claude said.
The Traveler waved the objection away. “It was understood.”
“Not by me,” I said.
He stopped on the other side of the table, by Padma. He stared at me with Hannah’s grey eyes and frowned. “Anyone else would have known that I meant tonight alone.”
“As you yourself have said, Traveler, she is not anyone,” Jean-Claude said.
“He is one council member. He cannot bargain for all,” Padma said. “He can force us to let you go tonight, but the rest he cannot do. He cannot free you all without a vote of all represented here.”
“Then his promise means nothing,” I said.
“If I had dreamt that you meant safety for our entire stay,” the Traveler said, “I would have asked for more than merely the truth of the Earthmover’s death.”
“We made a deal. I kept my end of it,” I said.
He tried to cross his arms over his chest, but had to settle for his stomach, arms cradling the breasts. Women are just not designed to look tough. “You have given me yet another problem, Anita. It might be wise to not be so problematic.”
“Threaten all you want,” I said, “but for tonight you can’t touch us.”
“Do not let it go to your head.” His voice had crawled down a few octaves, dragging out of Hannah’s throat.
I moved around to stand at Rafael’s head, wanting to stroke his hair and not daring to. Tears pressed like a hand against the back of my eyes. “Un-chain him. He goes with us, or your word is worth shit, Traveler.”
“I will not give him up,” Padma said.
“You will do as you are told,” the Traveler said.
I turned away from the sight of Rafael’s butchered body. I also didn’t want the bad guys to see me cry. Turning away from Rafael gave me a better view of Sylvie. What I saw stopped me in my tracks.
Her pants were down around her ankles, shoes still on. I took a step towards her, then another, and was almost running by the time I got to her. I slid to my knees beside her. Blood stained her thighs. Her hands were balled into fists, eyes squeezed tight. She was whispering something, very softly, over and over. I touched her arm and she flinched. Her voice rose just enough for me to hear the one word, “No, no, no.” Over and over and over like a mantra.
I was crying. I’d been talking about putting a bullet in Sylvie earlier today. Now I was crying for her. Some big tough sociopath I turned out to be. I had my problems with Sylvie, but this…She didn’t even like men under the best of circumstances. It made what they’d done worse somehow, more insulting. Or maybe it was just that I remembered her as so proud, so confident and full of herself. To see her like this was almost more than I could bear.
“Sylvie, Sylvie, it’s Anita.” I wanted to pull her clothes back in place, but was afraid to touch her again until I was sure she knew it was me. “Sylvie, can you hear me?”
Jason came to stand with us. “Let me try.”
“She won’t want a man to touch her.”
“I won’t touch her.” He knelt on the other side of her. “I smell like pack. You don’t.” He very carefully slid his arm in front of her face, trying not to touch her. “Smell the pack, Sylvie. Know the comfort of our touch.”
She stopped saying no, but that was it. She wouldn’t even open her eyes.
I stood up and faced the room. “Who did this?”
“She could have stopped it at any time,” Padma said, “given me the pack and it would all have been over. She could have gone free.”
I screamed, “WHO DID THIS!”
“I did,” Padma said.
I stared down at the floor, and when I came back up, the Uzi was pointed at him. “I’m going