The Laughing Corpse - Laurell K. Hamilton [48]
A figure detached itself from the darkened buildings. I couldn’t tell if he had been waiting or had simply appeared. Magic. I froze, like a rabbit caught in headlights, staring.
“What’s wrong, Blake?” Irving asked.
I handed him the file and he took it, looking puzzled. I wanted my hands free in case I had to go for my gun. It probably wouldn’t come to that. Probably.
Jean-Claude, Master Vampire of the City, walked towards us. He moved like a dancer, or a cat, a smooth, gliding walk. Energy and grace contained, waiting to explode into violence.
He wasn’t that tall, maybe five-eleven. His shirt was so white, it gleamed. The shirt was loose, long, full sleeves made tight at the wrist by three-buttoned cuffs. The front of the shirt had only a string to close the throat. He’d left it untied, and the white cloth framed the pale smoothness of his chest. The shirt was tucked into tight black jeans, and only that kept it from billowing around him like a cape.
His hair was perfectly black, curling softly around his face. The eyes, if you dared to look into them, were a blue so dark it was almost black. Glittering, dark jewels.
He stopped about six feet in front of us. Close enough to see the dark cross-shaped scar on his chest. It was the only thing that marred the perfection of his body. Or what I’d seen of his body.
He’d told me once that he killed the one who scarred him. Bully for him, so had I.
“Hello, Jean-Claude,” I said.
“Greetings, ma petite,” he said. His voice was like fur, rich, soft, vaguely obscene, as if just talking to him was something dirty. Maybe it was.
“Don’t call me ma petite,” I said.
He smiled slightly, not a hint of fang. “As you like.” He looked at Irving. Irving looked away, careful not to meet Jean-Claude’s eyes. You never looked directly into a vampire’s eyes. Never. So why was I doing it with impunity. Why indeed?
“Who is your friend?” The last word was very soft and somehow threatening.
“This is Irving Griswold. He’s a reporter for the Post-Dispatch. He’s helping me with a little research.”
“Ah,” he said. He walked around Irving as if he were something for sale, and Jean-Claude wanted to see all of him.
Irving gave nervous little glances so that he could keep the vampire in view. He glanced at me, widening his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“What indeed, Irving?” Jean-Claude said.
“Leave him alone, Jean-Claude.”
“Why have you not come to see me, my little animator?”
Little animator wasn’t much of an improvement over ma petite, but I’d take it. “I’ve been busy.”
The look that crossed his face was almost anger. I didn’t really want him mad at me. “I was going to come see you,” I said.
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Tonight.” It was not a suggestion.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, ma petite, you can.” His voice was like a warm wind in my head.
“You are so damn demanding,” I said.
He laughed then. Pleasant and resonating like expensive perfume that lingers in the room after the wearer has gone. His laughter was like that, lingering in the ears like distant music. He had the best voice of any master vampire I’d ever met. Everyone has their talents.
“You are so exasperating,” he said, the edge of laughter still in his voice. “What am I to do with you?”
“Leave me alone,” I said. I was utterly serious. It was one of my biggest wishes.
His face sobered completely, like someone had flipped a switch. On, happy, off, unreadable. “Too many of my followers know you are my human servant, ma petite. Bringing you under control is part of consolidating my power.” He sounded almost regretful. A lot of help that did me.
“What do you mean, bringing me under control?” My stomach was tight with the beginnings of fear. If Jean-Claude didn’t scare me to death, he was going to give me an ulcer.
“You are my human servant. You must start acting like one.”
“I am not your servant.”
“Yes, ma petite, you are.”
“Dammit, Jean-Claude, leave me alone.”
He was suddenly standing next to me. I hadn’t seen him move. He had clouded my mind without me even blinking. I could taste my pulse at the back of my throat. I tried