Circus of the Damned - Laurell K. Hamilton [124]
“What are you saying?”
“They have arranged that the loser be stretched over the altar and staked by you.”
“What . . .”
“Jean-Claude, as affirmation of his power. Oliver, as a gesture to show how well he controlled what once belonged to Jean-Claude.”
There was a gasp from the crowd. Oliver was levitating ever so slowly. He floated to the ground. Then he raised his arms, and Jean-Claude floated upward.
“Shit,” I said.
Jean-Claude hung nearly unconscious in empty, shining air. Oliver laid him gently on the ground, and fresh blood splattered the white floor.
Karl Inger came into sight. He picked Jean-Claude up under the arms.
Where was everybody? I looked around for some help. The black werewolf was torn apart, parts still twitching. I didn’t think even a lycanthrope could heal the mess. The blond werewolf wasn’t much better, but Stephen was dragging himself towards the altar. With one leg completely ripped away, he was trying.
Karl laid Jean-Claude on the marble altar. Blood began to seep down the side. He held him lightly at the shoulder. Jean-Claude could bench press a car. How could Karl hold him down?
“He shares Oliver’s strength.”
“Quit doing that,” I said.
“What?”
“Answering questions I haven’t asked yet.”
He smiled. “It saves so much time.”
Oliver picked up a white, polished stake and a padded hammer. He held them out towards me. “It’s time.”
Alejandro tried to help me stand, but I pushed him away. Fourth mark or no fourth mark, I could stand on my own.
Richard screamed, “No!” He ran past us towards the altar. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. He jumped at Oliver, and the little man grabbed him by the throat and tore his windpipe out.
“Richard!” I was running, but it was too late. He lay bleeding on the ground, still trying to breathe when he didn’t have anything to breathe with.
I knelt by him, tried to stop the flow of blood. His eyes were wide and panic-filled. Edward was with me. “There’s nothing you can do. Nothing any of us can do.”
“No.”
“Anita.” He pulled me away from Richard. “It’s too late.”
I was crying and hadn’t known it.
“Come, Anita; destroy your old master, as you wanted me to.” Oliver was holding the hammer and stake out toward me.
I shook my head.
Alejandro helped me stand. I reached for Edward, but it was too late. Edward couldn’t help. No one could help me. There was no way to take back the fourth mark, or heal Richard, or save Jean-Claude. But at least I wouldn’t put the stake through Jean-Claude. That I could stop. That I would not do.
Alejandro was leading me towards the altar.
Marguerite had crawled to one side of the dais. She was kneeling, rocking gently back and fourth. Her face was a bloody mask. She’d clawed her eyes out.
Oliver held the stake and mallet out to me with his white-gloved hands, still wet with Richard’s blood. I shook my head.
“You will take it. You will do as I say.” His little clown face was frowning at me.
“Fuck you,” I said.
“Alejandro, you control her now.”
“She is my servant, master, yes.”
Oliver held the stake out towards me. “Then have her finish him.”
“I cannot force her, master.” Alejandro smiled as he said it.
“Why not?”
“She is a necromancer. I told you she would have free will.”
“I will not have my grand gesture spoiled by one stubborn woman.”
He tried to roll my mind. I felt him rush over me like a wind inside my head, but it rolled off and away. I was a full human servant; vampire tricks didn’t work on me, not even Oliver’s.
I laughed, and he slapped me. I tasted fresh blood in my mouth. He stood beside me, and I could feel him tremble. He was so angry. I was ruining his moment.
Alejandro was pleased. I could feel his pleasure like a warm hand in my stomach.
“Finish him, or I promise you I’ll beat you to a bloody pulp. You don’t die easily now. I can hurt you worse than you can imagine, and you’ll heal. But it will still hurt just as badly. Do you understand me?”
I stared down