The Killing Dance - Laurell K. Hamilton [63]
“You seem surprised, ma petite.”
“I guess anyone who exudes sex the way you do . . . I just never thought about it.”
“Yet if you discovered that I had been sleeping with another female, alive or dead, while we were dating, what would you do?”
“Drop you in a hot minute.”
“Exactly.”
Liv laughed, a loud, unattractive bray of sound. “Even your human doesn’t believe you.”
Jean-Claude turned to her, his eyes a blaze of sapphire flame. “You say they laugh behind my back.”
She nodded, still laughing.
“But only you are laughing to my face.”
Her laughter died abruptly like a turned switch. She stared at him.
“A little more submissiveness, Liv, or is this a challenge to my authority?”
She looked startled. “No, I mean . . . I never meant . . .”
He just looked at her. “Then you had best ask my forgiveness, had you not?”
She dropped to one knee. She didn’t look afraid, more as if she’d done some huge social gaffe and now had to make amends. “I beg your forgiveness, Master. I forgot myself.”
“Yes, you did, Liv. Do not make it a habit.”
Liv got to her feet, all smiles, all forgiven. Just like that. The political maneuvering was thick in the air. “It’s only that she doesn’t look nearly as dangerous as you painted her.”
“Anita,” Jean-Claude said, “show her what you have in your hand.”
I moved the purse to one side, flashing the gun.
“I could have your throat in my hands before you could point that toy,” Liv said.
“No,” I said, “you couldn’t.”
“Is that a challenge?” she asked.
“Six hundred years of life, plus or minus a decade,” I said. “Don’t throw it away for a little grandstanding.”
“How did you know my age?”
I smiled. “I am really not in the mood to bluff tonight, Liv. Don’t try me.”
She stared at me, her extraordinary eyes narrowing. “You are a necromancer, not just a corpse-raiser. I can feel you inside my head, almost like another vampire.” She looked at Jean-Claude. “Why couldn’t I feel her before?”
“Her power flares when she feels threatened,” he said.
This was news to me. To my knowledge, I wasn’t using any power right now. But I didn’t say it out loud. Now was not the time to ask stupid questions or even smart ones.
Liv stepped to one side, almost as if she was afraid. “We’re opening in an hour. I’ve got work to do.” She moved towards the door, never taking her eyes from me.
I watched her move, happy with her reaction but not understanding it.
“Come, Anita,” Jean-Claude said, “I want to show you my club.”
I let him lead me into the main area of the club. They had gutted the warehouse until it rose three stories straight up with railings around each floor. The main dance floor was huge, shining and slick, gleaming in the subdued light. Track lighting was hidden away so it was hard to tell where the light was coming from.
Things hung from the ceiling. At first glance I thought they were bodies, but they were mannequins, life-size rubber dolls, crash-test dummies. Some were naked, one wrapped in cellophane, some in black leather or vinyl. One rubber doll wore a metal bikini. They were hung from chains at different levels. It was a mobile.
“That’s different,” I said.
“A promising new artist did it especially for the club.”
I shook my head. “It does make a statement.” I slipped the gun back into my purse but kept the purse open. That way I was able to get to the gun surprisingly quickly. Besides, I couldn’t walk around all night with a loaded gun in my hand. Eventually, your hand starts cramping, no matter how small the gun is.
Jean-Claude glided across the dance floor, and I followed. “Liv was afraid of me. Why?”
He turned gracefully, smiling. “You are the Executioner.”
I shook my head. “She said she could feel me in her head like another vamp. What did she mean?”
He sighed. “You are a necromancer, ma petite, and your power grows with use.”
“Why would that scare a six-hundred-year-old vampire?”
“You are relentless, ma petite.”
“It’s one of my best things.”
“If I answer your question, will you enjoy my