Cerulean Sins - Laurell K. Hamilton [150]
I nodded. “Good.” And I’d call Edward, see if he knew Heinrick. I started walking down the steps again. Bobby Lee fell in beside me, though since he was six feet and I so wasn’t, it was probably an awkward stride for him. He didn’t complain, and I didn’t offer to speed up. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing Jean-Claude or Asher again. I still didn’t know what to say.
We were within sight of the big heavy door that led into the underground areas. It was partially ajar, waiting for us. “By the way, Jean-Claude and Asher request your presence in Jean-Claude’s room.”
I sighed, and my unhappiness must have shown on my face, because he touched my arm. “Don’t look so glum, honey, they said something about owing you an apology.”
My eyebrows went up at that. An apology, them owing me. I liked the sound of that. I liked the sound of that a lot.
42
IT WASN’T THE apology I was expecting, but under the circumstances, any apology was better than none. Especially if I wasn’t having to give it. Of course, it took them nearly five minutes to get me to hear the apology, because once I got a good look at the two of them in their banquet finery, I was rendered speechless, deaf, and damn near blind to anything else.
I don’t think it was magic or vampire trickery. They just looked fine. Asher wore a jacket of pale gold with darker gold embroidery, and an edge of true metallic gold thread shot through the embroidery itself. There was a touch more gold at collar, lapels, wide cuffs. Just enough extra sparkle to mingle with the gold of his hair as it cascaded over his shoulders and add emphasis to the gestures of his hands. His shirt was a foam of white frills at chest and wrist, like a tamed cloud. I knew from rifling through Jean-Claude’s closet that the shirt wasn’t nearly as soft as it appeared. The pants were the same pale gold as the jacket with a line of embroidery down either side of his leg. Boots the color of oyster shells graced his legs, their tops folded down just above the knees, tied with pale brown leather belts and small gold buckles, which could be glimpsed as he moved.
I noticed Asher first, maybe because of his powers, or maybe because he was all shiny and gold and eye-catching. It was like noticing the sun. You couldn’t help but see it, to turn to face the heat of it, to bask in the glory of it. But often when the sun is high in the sky, the moon is up there, too. A dim memory of what she will be in the night, but there, nonetheless, dim and misty, hard and white. At night, there is only the moon, the sun is nowhere to be seen. There are no distractions when the moon rules the night sky.
Jean-Claude’s coat was a black velvet so soft and fine that it shown like fur. It was opera length, flowing down to his ankles. There was embroidery on the lapels and wide cuffs, a deep royal blue. The embroidery on the coat matched that on the black vest, but the shirt that showed in all that black and royal was the same shade of blue of the silk sheets on the bed. Cerulean blue, a color caught between the skies of day and night. It brought out the blue of his eyes so that they were like living jewels set amid the black of his hair, the near pure whiteness of his skin.
The silk was mounded into soft ruffles at his chest, and tucked into the vest. A gold and sapphire stickpin pierced the ruffles at his chest. The stone was almost as large as one of his blue eyes. Cuff links winked as he gestured, gold, with sapphires almost as large as the one on his chest. The sapphires were that cornflower blue, like a drop of Caribbean Sea water made solid.
His hair was a mass of black curls. It was almost as if he’d done less to it than normal, letting it tousle around his face and shoulders. The black of his hair blended into the black of his coat, so that the hair was like a living accessory.
For a moment I thought he was wearing leather pants, until I realized the black boots ran up the entire length of his leg. He was wearing black pants but they were barely visible. I