Cerulean Sins - Laurell K. Hamilton [94]
He kept one hand on the coffee cup, but the other one traced over his chest and rolled one of the little silver dumbbells between his fingers. “I had them done a couple weeks ago. Like them?”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, and I didn’t care that it sounded hostile. I was having a hard day and having Caleb in my kitchen wasn’t going to improve it.
“Taking messages for you.” He hadn’t risen to my grumpy bait. It wasn’t like Caleb to miss an opportunity to bitch.
“What messages?”
He held out a small sheet of paper to me. His face was as neutral as he could manage, only that faint gleam in his eyes that he never quite lost. That look that said, I’m thinking wicked thoughts, about you.
I took a breath, let it out slowly, and went over to him to get the paper. I recognized the notepaper; it was one of the sheets we kept near the phone. Caleb held on to it for a second too long, making me pull a little, but he let it go and didn’t say anything irritating. That was almost a first.
I looked at the note. I didn’t recognize the writing, which probably meant it was Caleb’s. It was surprisingly neat, all block letters. “NO ONE’S DEAD. WHEN YOU HAVE TIME, CALL ME. DOLPH IS ON A TWO-WEEK LEAVE OF ABSENCE. LOVE ZERBROWSKI.” I must have raised an eyebrow at the end part, because Caleb said, “I wrote down exactly what the policeman said. I didn’t add anything.”
“I believe you. Zerbrowski thinks he’s a wit.” I met Caleb’s brown eyes. “Why are you here, Caleb?”
“Micah called me on his cell phone, told me to stay close to you today.” He didn’t look particularly happy about it.
“Did he mention why he wanted you to stay close to me today?”
Caleb frowned. “No.”
“And you dropped everything you had planned today to come baby-sit me, out of the goodness of your heart.”
He tried to keep frowning, then gradually that smile of his that matched the wicked light in his eyes emerged. It was an unpleasant smile, as if he was thinking unkind thoughts, and those thoughts amused him very, very much.
“Merle told me he’d hurt me if I failed Micah on this.”
Merle was Micah’s chief bodyguard, six foot of muscle, and attitude that would make a Hell’s Angel think twice. Caleb was about five six and soft in ways that said he had nothing to do with muscles.
I had to smile. “Merle’s threatened you before, and it hasn’t impressed you much.”
“That was before Chimera died. He liked me better than he liked Merle or Micah. I knew he’d protect me, no matter what Merle said.”
Chimera had been their old pard leader, in a way he’d been like the Godfather of lycanthrope groups. But he was dead now, and we’d divided his people up among ours. Most of them thought it was an improvement because Chimera had been a sexual sadist, a serial killer, and an all-round very bad man. But a few, who had enjoyed helping him mete out his little blood fantasies, seemed to miss Chimera. Since Chimera had been one of the scarier things I’d ever run into in a list that included would-be gods, and millenia-old vampires, I didn’t trust any of his people that were nostalgic for the good ol’ days. Caleb was one of those.
“Great, fine, glad you’re beginning to take orders like a good solider. Tell Micah when he comes back that I’ll be at the Circus of the Damned.”
“I’ll go with you.” He was already getting to his feet. He was barefoot. But of course, because it was Caleb, he was wearing a toe ring.
I shook my head. “No, you are staying here, give my message to Micah.”
“Merle was pretty explicit. I am