The Laughing Corpse - Laurell K. Hamilton [49]
My voice came out flat, normal. At least I’d die brave. “I thought having two of your vampire marks meant you couldn’t control my mind.”
“I cannot bewitch you with my eyes, and it is harder to cloud your mind, but it can be done.” His fingers encircled my arm. Not hurting. I didn’t try to pull away. I knew better. He could crush my arm without breaking a sweat, or tear it from its socket, or bench press a Toyota. If I couldn’t arm wrestle Tommy, I sure as hell couldn’t match Jean-Claude.
“He’s the new Master of the City, isn’t he?” It was Irving. I think we had forgotten about him. It would have been better for Irving if we had.
Jean-Claude’s grip tightened slightly on my right arm. He turned to look at Irving. “You are the reporter that has been asking to interview me.”
“Yes, I am.” Irving sounded just the tiniest bit nervous, not much, just the hint of tightness in his voice. He looked brave and resolute. Good for Irving.
“Perhaps after I have spoken with this lovely young woman, I will grant you your interview.”
“Really?” Astonishment was plain in his voice. He grinned widely at me. “That would be great. I’ll do it any way you want. It . . .”
“Silence.” The word hissed and floated. Irving fell quiet as if it were a spell.
“Irving, are you alright?” Funny me asking. I was the one cheek to jowl with a vampire, but I asked anyway.
“Yeah,” Irving said. That one word was squeezed small with fear. “I’ve just never felt anything like him.”
I glanced up at Jean-Claude. “He is sort of one of a kind.”
Jean-Claude turned his attention back to me. Oh, goody. “Still making jokes, ma petite.”
I stared up into his beautiful eyes, but they were just eyes. He had given me the power to resist them. “It’s a way to pass the time. What do you want, Jean-Claude?”
“So brave, even now.”
“You aren’t going to do me on the street, in front of witnesses. You may be the new Master, but you’re also a businessman. You’re mainstream vampire. It limits what you can do.”
“Only in public,” he said, so soft that only I heard him.
“Fine, but we both agree you aren’t going to do violence here and now.” I stared up at him. “So cut the theatrics and tell me what the bloody hell you want.”
He smiled then, a bare movement of lips, but he released my arm and stepped back. “Just as you will not shoot me down in the street without provocation.”
I thought I had provocation, but nothing I could explain to the police. “I don’t want to be up on murder charges, that’s true.”
His smile widened, still not fangs. He did that better than any living vampire I knew. Was living vampire an oxymoron? I wasn’t sure anymore.
“So, we will not harm each other in public,” he said.
“Probably not,” I said. “What do you want? I’m late for an appointment.”
“Are you raising zombies or slaying vampires tonight?”
“Neither,” I said.
He looked at me, waiting for me to say more. I didn’t. He shrugged and it was graceful. “You are my human servant, Anita.”
He’d used my real name, I knew I was in trouble now. “Am not,” I said.
He gave a long sigh. “You bear two of my marks.”
“Not by choice,” I said.
“You would have died if I had not shared my strength with you.”
“Don’t give me crap about how you saved my life. You forced two marks on me. You didn’t ask or explain. The first mark may have saved my life, great. The second mark saved yours. I didn’t have a choice either time.”
“Two more marks and you will have immortality. You will not age because I do not age. You will remain human, alive, able to wear your crucifix. Able to enter a church. It does not compromise your soul. Why do you fight me?”
“How do you know what compromises my soul? You don’t have one anymore. You traded your immortal soul for earthly eternity. But I know that vampires can die, Jean-Claude. What happens when you die? Where do you go? Do you just go poof? No, you go to hell where you belong.”
“And you think