Guilty Pleasures - Laurell K. Hamilton [29]
I believed.
12
I WANTED TO spit in that smooth, pale face, but I was afraid of what she would do to me. A drop of sweat ran slowly down my face. I wanted to promise her anything, anything, if she would never touch me again. Nikolaos didn’t have to bespell me; all she had had to do was terrify me. The fear would control me. It was what she was counting on. I could not let that happen.
“Get . . . out . . . of . . . my . . . face,” Isaid.
She laughed. Her breath was warm and smelled like peppermint. Breath mints. But underneath the clean, modern smell, very faint, was the scent of fresh blood. Old death. Recent murder.
I wasn’t shivering anymore. I said, “Your breath smells like blood.”
She jerked back, a hand going to her lips. It was such a human gesture that I laughed. Her dress brushed my face as she stood. One small, slippered foot kicked me in the chest.
The force tumbled me backwards, sharp pain, no air. For the second time that night, I couldn’t breathe. I lay flat on my stomach, gasping, swallowing past the pain. I hadn’t heard anything break. Something should have broken.
The voice thudded over me, hot enough to scald. “Get her out of here before I kill her myself.”
The pain faded to a sharp ache. Air burned going down. My chest was tight, like I’d swallowed lead.
“Stay where you are, Jean.”
Jean-Claude was standing away from the wall, halfway to me. Nikolaos commanded him to stillness with one small, pale hand.
“Can you hear me, animator?”
“Yes.” My voice was strangled. I couldn’t get enough air to talk.
“Did I break something?” Her voice rose upward like a small bird.
I coughed, trying to clear my throat, but it hurt. I huddled around my chest while the ache faded. “No.”
“Pity. But I suppose that would have slowed things down, or made you useless to us.” She seemed to think about the last as if that had had possibilities. What would they have done to me if something had been broken? I didn’t want to know.
“The police are aware of only four vampire murders. There have been six more.”
I breathed in carefully. “Why not tell the police?”
“My dear animator, there are many among us who do not trust the human laws. We know how equal human justice is for the undead.” She smiled, and again there should have been a dimple. “Jean-Claude was the fifth most powerful vampire in this city. Now he is the third.”
I stared up at her, waiting for her to laugh, to say it was a joke. She continued to smile, the same exact smile, like a piece of wax. Were they playing me for a fool? “Something has killed two master vampires? Stronger than”—I had to swallow before continuing—“Jean-Claude?”
Her smile widened, flashing a distinct glimpse of fang. “You do grasp the situation quickly. I will give you that. And perhaps that will make Jean-Claude’s punishment less—severe. He recommended you to us, did you know that?”
I shook my head and glanced at him. He had not moved, not even to breathe. Only his eyes looked at me. Dark blue like midnight skies, almost fever-bright. He hadn’t fed yet. Why wouldn’t she let him feed?
“Why is he being punished?”
“Are you worried about him?” Her voice held a mockery of surprise. “My, my, my, aren’t you angry that he brought you into this?”
I stared at him for a moment. I knew then what I saw in his eyes. It was fear. He was afraid of Nikolaos. And I knew if I had any ally in this room, it was him. Fear will bind you closer than love, or hate, and it works a hell of a lot quicker. “No,” I said.
“No, no.” She minced the word, crying it up and down, a child’s imitation. “Fine.” Her voice was suddenly lower, grownup, shimmering with heat, angry. “We will give you a gift, animator. We have a witness to the second murder. He saw Lucas die. He will tell you everything he saw, won’t he, Zachary?” She smiled at the sandy-haired man.
Zachary nodded. He stepped from around the chair and swept a low bow towards me. His lips were too thin for his face, his smile crooked. Yet, the ice-green eyes stayed with me. I had seen that face before, but where?