Burnt Offerings - Laurell K. Hamilton [99]
Cherry made a face. “Thanks for ruining another idyllic image.” She took Vivian out of my arms, wobbling on one knee. Vivian moaned in her arms as Cherry stood, trying to get the balance of it all. Lifting isn’t just strength. It’s balance, and an unconscious body is not the best thing for balance. “You need a hand up?” she asked.
I shook my head, getting to my knees.
Cherry took me at my word and just walked towards the house. She was smarter than I’d first thought. Of course, if I’d spent the night in Padma’s tender care, maybe I wouldn’t have made a good first impression either.
I was trying to fluff up the crushed flowers when the butterfly came fluttering back. With it hovering around my face I felt the first prickling brush of power. If it had been dark, I’d have said “vampire,” but it was broad daylight.
I stood up and slipped the Browning out of the coat pocket. The bright yellow-and-brown insect batted at my face with paper-thin wings. What had been fun a moment before was suddenly ominous. For the first time in my life I brushed a butterfly away as if it had been something loathsome. And maybe it was.
I am not implying that the butterfly was literally a vampire. They couldn’t shapechange, not to my knowledge. Of course, they couldn’t be out in full daylight either. They were the council. Did I really know what they were capable of?
The butterfly floated away from me towards the woods on the far side of the driveway. It fluttered back and forth, back and forth, like it was waiting for me. I shook my head. I felt silly holding the gun with just the butterfly there by the woods. But something else was out there. I stood in the summer heat, feeling the sun beat down on the top of my head. I should have been safe. At least from vampires. It wasn’t fair that they changed the rules.
I was about to go into the house and yell for backup, when I saw a figure. Tall with a thick hooded cloak pulled around him. Even with the cloak I knew it was a him. Shoulders that broad and that height, and I even knew it was Warrick. Except it couldn’t be him. He wasn’t even close to powerful enough to be out in daylight.
I stared at that tall shape in the shimmering white cloak. He stood so still, as if he were carved from marble. Even Mr. Oliver, the oldest vamp I’d ever seen had avoided direct sunlight. But there Warrick stood like a ghost that had learned the trick of walking about in daylight. Of course, he wasn’t walking. He stood in the wavering shadows of the trees. He didn’t try and come out into the direct light of the clearing. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe that thin band of shade was all that kept him from bursting into flames. Maybe.
I walked towards him. I stretched my senses, but his was the only power I felt. It could be a trap, an ambush, but I didn’t think so. If they meant to trap me, it wouldn’t have been this blatant. But just in case, I stopped a good distance back from the woods. If I saw any movement I’d yell for help and run for the house. Might even get off a shot or two.
Warrick stood with his head bowed so low, the hood completely hid his face. He stood immobile, as if he didn’t know I was there. Only the wind making a soft folding line in the white cloth showed any movement. He was like a statue with a cloth thrown over it.
The longer he stood there motionless, the more eerie it seemed. I had to fill the silence. “What do you want, Warrick?”
A shiver went through him and he raised his head slowly. Rot had spread across that strong face. His skin was green and black as if that thin layer of tissue were holding in centuries of death. Even his blue eyes had dulled with a film, like a fish that had been dead too long to eat.
My mouth was hanging open. You’d think after what I’d seen Yvette do to him, it wouldn’t have shocked me, but it did. Some sights you don’t grow jaded about.
“Is Yvette punishing you?” I asked.
“No, no, my pale mistress sleeps in her coffin. She knows nothing of this visit.” His voice was the only thing that remained “normal.” The voice was still strong