Guilty Pleasures - Laurell K. Hamilton [84]
Perry bent over and grasped the plastic. “You ready?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. He lifted the plastic, like a curtain backdrop to what lay on the sidewalk.
Long, black hair flowed around a pale face. The hair was matted and sticky with blood. The face had been attractive but no more. The features were slack, almost doll-like in their unreality. My eyes saw it, but it took my brain a few seconds to register. “Shit!”
“What is it?”
I stood up, fast, and took two steps out into the street. Perry came to stand beside me. “Are you all right?”
I glanced back at the plastic with its grisly little lump. Was I all right? Good question. I could identify this body.
It was Theresa.
33
I ARRIVED AT Ronnie’s office a few minutes before eleven. I paused with my hand on the doorknob. I couldn’t shake the image of Theresa’s head on the sidewalk. She had been cruel and had probably killed hundreds of humans. Why did I feel pity for her? Stupidity, I suppose. I took a deep breath and pushed the door inward.
Ronnie’s office is full of windows. Light glares in from two sides, south and west. Which means in the afternoon the room is like a solar heater. No amount of air conditioning is going to overcome that much sunshine.
You can see the District from Ronnie’s sunshiny windows. If you care to look.
Ronnie waved me through the door into the almost blinding glare of her office.
A delicate-looking woman was sitting in a chair across from the desk. She was Asian with shiny, black hair styled carefully back from her face. A royal purple jacket, which matched her tailored skirt, was folded neatly on the chair arm. A shiny, lavender blouse brought attention to the up-tilted eyes and the faint lavender shading on the lids and brow. Her ankles were crossed, hands folded in her lap. She looked cool in her lavender blouse, even in the sweltering sunshine.
It caught me off guard for a minute, seeing her like that, after all these years. Finally, I closed my gaping mouth and walked forward, hand extended. “Beverly, it has been a long time.”
She stood neatly and put a cool hand in mine. “Three years.” Precise, that was Beverly all over.
“You two know each other?” Ronnie asked.
I turned back to her. “Bev didn’t mention that she knew me?”
Ronnie shook her head.
I stared at the new woman. “Why didn’t you mention it to Ronnie?”
“I did not think it necessary.” Bev had to raise her chin to look me in the eye. Not many people have to do that. It’s rare enough that I always find it an odd sensation, as if I should stoop down so we can be at eye level.
“Is someone going to tell me where you two know each other from?” Ronnie asked.
Ronnie moved past us to sit behind her desk. She tilted the chair slightly back on its swivel, crossed hands over stomach, and waited. Her pure grey eyes, soft as kitten fur, stared at me.
“Do you mind if I tell her, Bev?”
Bev had sat down again, smooth and ladylike. She had real dignity and had always impressed me as being a lady, in the best sense of the word. “If you feel it necessary, I do not object,” she said.
Not exactly a rousing go-ahead, but it would do. I flopped down in the other chair, very aware of my jeans and jogging shoes. Beside Bev I looked like an ill-dressed child. For just a moment I felt it; then it was gone. Remember, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent. Eleanor Roosevelt said that. It is a quote I try to live by. Most of the time I succeed.
“Bev’s family were the victims of a vampire pack. Only Beverly survived. I was one of the people who helped destroy the vampires.” Brief, to the point, a hell of a lot left out. Mostly the painful parts.
Bev spoke in that quiet, precise voice of hers. “What Anita has left out is that she saved my life at risk of her own.” She glanced down at her hands where they lay in her lap.
I remembered my first glimpse of Beverly Chin. One pale leg thrashing against the floor. The