Guilty Pleasures - Laurell K. Hamilton [92]
“I know, you are reeal popular, but you’ll remember this meeting. You hired a hit man to kill vampires.” I watched his face, but he was too good. There was a flicker in his eyes, unease maybe; then it was gone, replaced by that shining blue-eyed confidence.
“Miss Blake, why are you looking me in the eyes?”
I shrugged. “If you don’t try to bespell me, it’s safe.”
“I have tried to convince you of that on several occasions, but you always played it . . . safe. Now you are staring at me; why?” He strode towards me, quick, nearly a blur of motion. My gun was in my hand, no thinking needed. Instinct.
“My,” he said.
I just stared at him, quite willing to put a bullet through his chest if he came one step closer.
“You carry at least the first mark, Miss Blake. Some master vampire has touched you. Who?”
I let out my breath in one long sigh. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding it. “It’s a long story.”
“I believe you.” He was suddenly standing near the door again, as if he had never moved. Damn, he was good.
“You hired a man to slay the freak vampires,” I said.
“No,” he said, “I did not.”
It is always unnerving when a person looks so damn blasé while I point a gun at them. “You did hire an assassin.”
He shrugged. Smiled. “You do not really expect me to do anything but deny that, do you?”
“Guess not.” What the heck, might as well ask. “Are you or your church connected in any way to the vampire murders?”
He almost laughed. I didn’t blame him. No one in their right mind would just say yes, but sometimes you can learn things from the way a person denies something. The choice of lies can be almost as helpful as the truth.
“No, Miss Blake.”
“You did hire an assassin.” I made it a statement.
The smile drained from his face, poof. He stared at me, his presence crawling along my skin like insects. “Miss Blake, I believe it is time for you to leave.”
“A man tried to kill me today.”
“That is hardly my fault.”
“He had two vampire bites in his neck.”
Again that flicker in the eyes. Unease? Maybe.
“He was waiting for me outside your church. I was forced to kill him on your steps.” A small lie, but I didn’t want Ronnie further involved.
He was frowning now, a thread of anger like heat oozing through the room. “I am unaware of this, Miss Blake. I will look into it.”
I lowered my gun but didn’t put it away. You can only hold a person at gunpoint so long. If they aren’t afraid, and they aren’t going to hurt you, and you aren’t going to shoot them, it gets rather silly. “Don’t be too hard on Bruce. He doesn’t do well around violence.”
Malcolm straightened, pulling at his suit jacket. A nervous gesture? Oh, boy. I’d hit a nerve.
“I will look into it, Miss Blake. If he was a member of our church, we owe you an extreme apology.”
I stared at him for a minute. What could I say to that? Thank you? It didn’t seem appropriate. “I know you hired a hit man, Malcolm. Not exactly good press for your church. I think you are behind the vampire murders. Your hands may not have spilled the blood, but it was done with your approval.”
“Please, go now, Miss Blake.” He opened the door as he said it.
I walked through, gun still in my hand. “Sure, I’ll go, but I won’t go away.”
He stared down at me, eyes angry. “Do you know what it means to be marked by a master vampire?”
I thought a minute and wasn’t sure how to answer it. Truth. “No.”
He smiled, and it was cold enough to freeze your heart. “You will learn, Miss Blake. If it becomes too much for you, remember our church is here to help.” He closed the door in my face. Softly.
I stared at the door. “And what is that supposed to mean?” I whispered. No one answered me.
I put away my gun and spotted a small door marked “Exit.” I took it. The church was softly lit, candles maybe. Voices rose on the night air, singing. I didn’t recognize the words. The tune was Bringing in the Sheaves. I caught one phrase: “We will live forever, never more to die.”
I hurried to my car and tried not to listen to the song. There was something frightening about all