Circus of the Damned - Laurell K. Hamilton [92]
Jean-Claude led the way into the dark. “We wouldn’t want your coworker to overhear us.” His voice whispered in the dark, growing like a wind to beat against the curtains.
My heart hammered against my rib cage. How the hell did he do that? “Save the dramatics for someone you can impress.”
“Brave words, ma petite, but I taste your heartbeat in my mouth.” The last word breathed over my skin as if his lips had passed just over the nape of my neck. Goose bumps marched down my arms.
“If you want to play games until after dawn, that’s fine with me, but Irving told me that you had information on the master vampire that attacked me. Do you, or was it a lie?”
“I have never lied to you, my petite.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Partial truths are not the same thing as lies.”
“I guess that depends on where you’re sitting,” I said.
He acknowledged that with a nod. “Shall we sit against the far wall, out of hearing range?”
“Sure.”
He knelt in the thin circle of a torch’s light. The light was for my benefit, and I appreciated it. But no sense telling him that.
I sat across from him, back to the wall. “So, what do you know about Alejandro?”
He was staring at me, a peculiar look on his face.
“What?” I asked.
“Tell me everything that happened last night, ma petite, everything about Alejandro.”
It was too much like an order for my tastes, but there was something in his eyes, his face; uneasiness, almost fear. Which was silly. What did Jean-Claude have to fear from Alejandro? What indeed? I told him everything I remembered.
His face went carefully blank, beautiful and unreal like a painting. The colors were still there, but the life, the movement, had fled. He put one finger between his lips and slowly slid it out of sight. The finger came glistening back to the light. He extended that wet finger towards me. I scooted away from him.
“What are you trying to do?”
“Wash the blood off of your cheek. Nothing more.”
“I don’t think so.”
He sighed, the barest of sounds, but it slithered over my skin like air. “You make everything so difficult.”
“Glad you noticed.”
“I need to touch you, ma petite. I believe Alejandro has done something to you.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “Something impossible.”
“No riddles, Jean-Claude.”
“I believe he has marked you.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Marked you, Anita Blake, marked you with the first mark, just as I have.”
I shook my head. “That’s not possible. Two vampires can’t have the same human servant.”
“Exactly,” he said. He moved towards me. “Let me test the theory, ma petite, please.”
“What does testing the theory mean?”
He said something soft and harsh in French. I’d never heard him curse before. “It is after dawn and I am tired. Your questions will make something simple last all bloody day.” There was real anger in his voice, but under that was tiredness and that thread of fear. The fear scared me. He was supposed to be some untouchable monster. Monsters weren’t afraid of other monsters.
I sighed. Was it better to just get it over with, like a shot? Maybe. “Alright, in the interest of time. But give me some idea of what to expect. You know I don’t like surprises.”
“I must touch you to search first for my marks, then for his. You should not have fallen so easily into his eyes. That should not have happened.”
“Get it over with,” I said.
“Is my touch so repulsive that you must prepare yourself as for pain?”
Since that was almost exactly what I was doing, I wasn’t sure what to say. “Just do it, Jean-Claude, before I change my mind.”
He slid his finger between his lips again.
“Do you have to do it that way?”
“Ma petite, please.”
I squirmed against the cool stone wall. “Alright, no more interruptions.”
“Good.” He knelt in front of me. His fingertip traced my right cheek, leaving a line of wetness down my skin. The dried blood was gritty under his touch. He leaned into me, as if he was going