Circus of the Damned - Laurell K. Hamilton [108]
“When the bleeding stops, I’ll bandage it up for you,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“I seem to always be patching you up.”
I glanced over my shoulder at him and winced. “I’ve returned the favor.”
He smiled. “True.”
The cuts on my hands had already been bandaged. I looked like a tan version of the mummy’s hand.
He touched the fang marks on my calf gently. “This worries me.”
“Me, too.”
“There’s no discoloration.” He looked up at me. “No pain?”
“None. It wasn’t a full lamia, maybe it wasn’t that poisonous. Besides, you think anywhere in St. Louis is going to have lamia antivenom? They’ve been listed extinct for over two hundred years.”
Edward palpated the wound. “I can’t feel any swelling.”
“It’s been over an hour, Edward. If poison was going to kick in, it would have by now.”
“Yeah.” He stared at the bite. “Just keep an eye on it.”
“I didn’t know you cared,” I said.
His face was blank, empty. “It would be a lot less interesting world without you in it.” The voice was flat, unemotional. It was like he wasn’t there at all. Yet it was a compliment. From Edward, it was a huge compliment.
“Gee whiz, Edward, contain your excitement.”
He gave a small smile that left his eyes blue and distant as winter skies. We were friends of a sort, good friends, but I would never really understand him. There was too much of Edward that you couldn’t touch, or even see.
I used to believe that if it came to it, he’d kill me, if it were necessary. Now, I wasn’t sure. How could you be friends with someone who you suspected might kill you? Another mystery of life.
“The bleeding’s stopped,” he said. He smeared antiseptic on the wound, then started taping bandages in place. The doorbell rang.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Three o’clock.”
“Shit.”
“What is it?”
“I have a date coming over.”
“You? Have a date?”
I frowned at him. “It’s not that big a deal.”
Edward was grinning like the proverbial cat. He stood up. “You’re all fixed up. I’ll go let him in.”
“Edward, be nice.”
“Me, nice?”
“Alright, just don’t shoot him.”
“I think I can manage that.” Edward walked out of the bathroom to let Richard in.
What would Richard think being met at the door by another man? Edward certainly wasn’t going to help matters. He’d probably offer him a seat without explaining who he was. I wasn’t even sure I could explain that.
“This is my friend the assassin.” Nope. A fellow vampire slayer, maybe.
The bedroom door was closed so I could get dressed in privacy. I tried to put on a bra and found that my back hurt a lot. No bra. That limited what I could wear, unless I wanted to give Richard more of a look-see than I had planned on. I also wanted to keep an eye on the bite wound. So pants were out.
Most of the time I slept in oversize t-shirts, and slipping on a pair of jeans was my idea of a robe. But I did own one real robe. It was comfortable, a nice solid black, silky to the touch and absolutely not see-through.
A black silk teddy went with it, but I decided that was a little friendlier than I wanted to be; besides, the teddy wasn’t comfortable. Lingerie seldom is.
I pulled the robe out of the back of my closet and slipped it on. It was smooth and wonderful next to my skin. I crossed the front so the bordered edge was high up on my chest and tied the black belt tight in place. Didn’t want any slippage.
I listened at the door for a second and heard nothing. No talking, no moving around, nothing. I opened the door and walked out.
Richard was sitting on the couch with an armful of costumes hung over the back. Edward was making coffee in the kitchen like he owned the place.
Richard turned at my entrance. His eyes widened just a little. The hair still damp from the shower, and the slinky robe—what was he thinking?
“Nice robe,” Edward said.
“It was a present from an overly optimistic date.”
“I like