The Killing Dance - Laurell K. Hamilton [119]
“Don’t you realize by now, Richard, that ma petite is either your equal or your master? She knows no other way to be.” He came to stand by us. He looked amused as hell.
“I want her to be my equal,” Richard said.
“But not within the pack,” Jean-Claude said.
Richard shook his head. “No, I mean . . . No, Anita is my equal.”
“Then what are you bitching about?” I said.
He glared at me with his alien eyes. “I am Ulfric, not you.”
“Lead, and I’ll follow, Richard.” I stepped close to him, almost touching. “But lead, Richard, really lead, or get out of the way.”
28
* * *
“AS AMUSING as this is,” Jean-Claude said, “and believe me, ma petite, Richard, it is amusing. We do not have time for this particular argument, not if Richard stands any hope of not being forced to kill tonight.”
We both glared at him, and he gave that graceful shrug that meant everything and nothing. “We must call the magic again, but this time, Richard needs to try and pull some of it into himself. He needs to do something that would impress his pack. This,” he motioned to the zombies, “though impressive, looks too much like Anita’s work.”
“You’ve got a suggestion, I take it.”
“Perhaps,” he said. His eyes turned very serious then, the humor dying away until his face was lovely and blank. “But first, I think I have a question or two for you, myself, ma petite. I think it is not only Richard that you are emasculating today.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
He cocked his head to one side. “Perhaps you honestly do not know?” He sounded surprised. “There is a small hallway to the right. Look inside it.”
I could see the archway at the top of the hall, but the zombies filled the space, hiding the rest from view. “Move forward,” I said. The zombies moved like a single organism, their dead eyes watching my face as if I were all that mattered. To them, I was.
The zombies moved like a shambling curtain. I could see the smaller hallway now, and the figures waiting inside. “Stop,” I said. The zombies stopped as if I’d hit a switch.
Liv, the blond bouncer from Danse Macabre, stood just inside the smaller hallway. She was still dressed in her violet body suit. Her extraordinary violet eyes stared at me, empty, waiting. My pulse thudded in my throat. There were other figures behind her.
Richard said softly, “This isn’t possible.”
I didn’t argue with him. It would have been too hard.
“Bring them out, ma petite, let us see who you have called from their coffins.” His voice was warm with the beginnings of anger.
“What’s eating you?”
He laughed, but it was bitter. “I threatened my people with this, but you said nothing. You did not tell me you could truly raise vampires like any other zombie.”
“I’ve only done it once before.”
“Indeed,” he said.
“Don’t get all pissy on me.”
“I shall get pissy if I want to,” he said. “These are my people, my companions, and you have them walking around like puppets. I find that most disquieting.”
“So do I,” I said. I looked back at the vampires. Liv, who had been so animated last night, stood there like a well-preserved zombie. No. No, I’d never have mistaken her for a zombie. I could feel a difference. But there she stood, that muscular body waiting for my next order. There were others behind her. I couldn’t see how many. Too many.
“Can you put my vampires back, ma petite?”
I continued to look at Liv, avoiding Jean-Claude’s eyes. “I don’t know.”
He touched my chin, turning me to face him. He studied my face, eyes searching, as if some hint of truth might show through. I let anger fill my face, anger was always a great thing to hide behind.
“What did you do with the last vampire you raised, ma petite?”
I pulled away from him. He grabbed my arm unbelievably fast. Too fast to see. What happened next was simply automatic. He held my right upper arm, but I could still bend at the elbow and point the Firestar at him. The Uzi in my left hand pointed at him, too. He could have crushed my arm before I fired one gun, but not both. But for the first time, staring