[Anita Blake 15] - The Harlequin, Page 2

  “Something powerful, someone powerful, came to my church last week. They hid themselves. I could not find them in the new faces of my congregation, but I know that someone immensely powerful was there.” He leaned forward, his calm exterior cracking around the edges. “Do you understand how powerful they would have to be for me to sense them, use all my powers to search the room for them, yet not be able to find them?”

  I thought about it. Malcolm was no Master of the City, but he was probably one of the top five most powerful vampires in town. He’d be higher, if he weren’t so terribly moral. It limited him in some ways.

  I licked my lips, careful of the lipstick, and nodded. “Did they want you to know they were there, or was that part an accident?”

  He actually showed surprise for a moment before he got control of his face. He played human too much for the media; he was beginning to lose that stillness of features that the old ones have. “I don’t know.” Even his voice was no longer smooth.

  “Did the vamp do it to taunt you, or was it arrogance?”

  He shook his head. “I do not know.”

  I had a moment of revelation. “You came here because you think Jean-Claude should know, but you can’t let your congregation see you going to the Master of the City. It would undermine your whole freewill thing.”

  He settled back into his chair, fighting to keep the anger off his face, and failing. He was even more scared than I thought, to be losing it this badly in front of someone he disliked. Hell, he’d come to me for help. He was desperate.

  “But you can come to me, a federal marshal, and tell me. Because you know I’ll tell Jean-Claude.”

  “Think what you like, Ms. Blake.”

  We weren’t on a first-name basis anymore. I’d hit it on the head. “A big, bad vamp checks your church out. You aren’t vampire enough to smoke him out, and you come to me, to Jean-Claude and all his immoral power structure. You come to the very people you say you hate.”

  He stood up. “The crime that Sally is accused of happened less than twenty-four hours after he, it, they came to my church. I do not think that is a coincidence.”

  “I’m not lying about the second order of execution, Malcolm. It’s in my desk drawer, right now, with a driver’s license picture of the vampire in question.”

  He sat back down. “What name is on it?”

  “Why, so you can warn…them?” I’d almost said her, because it was another female vamp.

  “My people are not perfect, Ms. Blake, but I believe that another vampire has come to town and is framing them.”

  “Why? Why would someone do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “No one has bothered Jean-Claude or his people.”

  “I know,” Malcolm said.

  “Without a true master, a true blood-oathed, mystically connected master, your congregation are just sheep waiting for the wolves to come get them.”

  “Jean-Claude said as much a month ago.”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  “I thought at first that it was one of the new vampires who has joined Jean-Claude. One of the ones from Europe, but it is not. It is something more powerful than that. Or it is a group of vampires combining their powers through their master’s marks. I have felt such power only once before.”

  “When?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “We are forbidden to speak of it, on penalty of death. Only if they contact us directly can we break this silence.”

  “It sounds like you’ve already been contacted,” I said.

  He shook his head again. “They are tampering with me, and my people, because technically I am outside normal vampire law. Did Jean-Claude report to the council that my church had not blood-oathed any of its followers?”

  I nodded. “Yes, he did.”

  He put his big hands over his face and leaned over his knees, almost as if he felt faint. He whispered, “I feared as much.”

  “Okay, Malcolm, you’re moving too fast for me here. What does Jean-Claude’s reporting to the council have to do with some group of powerful vamps messing with your church?”

  He looked at me, but his eyes had gone gray with worry. “Tell him what I have told you. He will understand.”

  “But I don’t.”

  “I have until New Year’s Day to give Jean-Claude my answer about the blood-oathing. He has been generous and patient, but there are those among the council that are neither of those things. I had hoped they would be proud of what I had accomplished. I thought it would please them, but I fear now that the council is not ready to see my brave new world of free will.”

  “Free will is for humans, Malcolm. The preternatural community is about control.”

  He stood again. “You have almost complete discretion on how the warrant is executed, Anita. Will you use some of that discretion to find the truth before you kill my followers?”

  I stood up. “I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “I would not ask that. I ask only that you look for the truth before it is too late for Sally, and my other follower, whose name you will not even give me.” He sighed. “I have not sent Sally running out of town; why would I warn the other?”

  “You came through the door knowing Sally was in trouble. I’m not helping you figure the other bad guy out.”

  “It is a man, then?”

  I just looked at him, glad that I could give full eye contact. It had always been so hard to do the tough stare back when I couldn’t look a vamp in the eyes.

  He straightened his shoulders as if only now aware that he was slumping. “You won’t even give me that, will you? Please tell Jean-Claude what I have told you. I should have come to you immediately. I thought morals kept me from running to the very power structure I despise, but it wasn’t morals, it was sin; the sin of pride. I hope that my pride has not cost more of my followers their lives.” He went for the door.

  I called after him. “Malcolm.”

  He turned.

  “How big an emergency is this?”

  “Big.”

  “Will a couple of hours make a difference?”

  He thought about it. “Perhaps; why do you ask?”

  “I won’t be seeing Jean-Claude tonight. I just wanted to know if I should call him, give him a heads-up.”

  “Yes, by all means, give him his heads-up.” He frowned at me. “Why would you not see your master tonight, Anita? Aren’t you living with him?”

  “Actually, no. I stay over at his place about half the week, but I’ve got my own place still.”

  “Will you be killing more of my kindred tonight?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then you will raise my other colder brethren. Whose blissful death will you disturb tonight, Anita? Whose zombie will you raise so some human can get their inheritance, or a wife can be consoled?”

  “No zombies tonight,” I said. I was too puzzled by his attitude on the zombies to be insulted. I’d never heard a vampire claim any kinship with zombies, or ghouls, or anything but other vamps.

  “Then what will keep you from your master’s arms?”

  “I’ve got a date, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “But not a date with Jean-Claude, or Asher?”

  I shook my head.

  “Your wolf king then, Richard?”

  I shook my head, again.

  “For whom would you abandon those three, Anita? Ah, your leopard king, Micah.”

  “Wrong again.”

  “I am amazed that you are answering my questions.”

  “So am I, actually. I think it’s because you keep calling me a whore, and I think I want to rub your face in it.”

  “What, the fact that you are a whore?” His face showed nothing when he said it.

  “I knew you couldn’t do it,” I said.

  “Do what, Ms. Blake?”

  “I knew you couldn’t play nice long enough to get my help. I knew if I kept at you, you’d get snotty and mean.”

  He gave a small
bow, just from the neck. “I told you, Ms. Blake, my sin is pride.”

  “And what’s my sin, Malcolm?”

  “Do you want me to insult you, Ms. Blake?”

  “I just want to hear you say it.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?” I said.

  “Very well; your sin is lust, Ms. Blake, as it is the sin of your master and all his vampires.”

  I shook my head and felt that unpleasant smile curl my lips. The smile that left my eyes cold, and usually meant I was well and truly pissed. “That’s not my sin, Malcolm, not the one nearest and dearest to my heart.”

  “And what would your sin be, Ms. Blake?”

  “Wrath, Malcolm, it’s wrath.”

  “Are you saying I’ve made you angry?”

  “I’m always angry, Malcolm; you just gave me a target to focus it on.”

  “Do you envy anyone, Ms. Blake?”

  I thought about it, then shook my head. “Not really, no.”

  “I will not ask about sloth; you work entirely too hard for that to be an issue. You are not greedy, nor a glutton. Are you prideful?”

  “Sometimes,” I said.

  “Wrath, lust, and pride, then?”

  I nodded. “I guess, if we’re keeping score.”

  “Oh, someone is keeping score, Ms. Blake, never doubt that.”

  “I’m Christian, too, Malcolm.”

  “Do you worry about getting into heaven, Ms. Blake?”

  It was such an odd question that I answered it. “I did, for a while, but my faith still makes my cross glow. My prayers still have the power to chase the evil things away. God hasn’t forsaken me; it’s just that all the right-wing fundamentalist Christians want to believe he has. I’ve seen evil, Malcolm, real evil, and you aren’t that.”

  He smiled, and it was gentle, and almost embarrassed. “Have I come to you for absolution, Ms. Blake?”

  “I don’t think I’m the one to give you absolution.”

  “I would like a priest to hear my sins before I die, Ms. Blake, but none will come near me. They are holy, and the very trappings of their calling will burst into flames in my presence.”

  “Not true. The holy items only go off if the true believer panics, or if you try vampire powers on them.”

  He blinked at me, and I realized his eyes held unshed tears, shimmering in the overhead lights. “Is this true, Ms. Blake?”

  “I promise it is.” His attitude was beginning to make me afraid for him. I didn’t want to be afraid for Malcolm. I had enough people in my life that I cared for enough to worry about; I did not need to add the undead Billy Graham to my list.

  “Do you know any priests that might be willing to hear a very long confession?”

  “I might, though I don’t know if they’re allowed to give you absolution, since technically in the eyes of the Church you’re already dead. You have ties to a lot of the religious community, Malcolm; surely one of the other leaders would be willing.”

  “I do not want to ask them, Anita. I do not want them to know my sins. I would rather…” He hesitated, then spoke, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t the sentence he started to use. “Quietly, I would rather it be done quietly.”

  “Why the sudden need for confession and absolution?”

  “I am still a believer, Ms. Blake; being a vampire has not changed that. I wish to die absolved of my sins.”

  “Why are you expecting to die?”

  “Tell Jean-Claude what I have told you about the stranger or strangers in my church. Tell him about my desire for a priest to hear my confession. He will understand.”

  “Malcolm…”

  He kept walking, but stopped with his hand on the door. “I take back what I said, Ms. Blake, I am not sorry I came. I am only sorry I did not come days ago.” With that he walked out and closed the door softly behind him.

  I sat down at my desk and called Jean-Claude. I had no idea what was going on, but something was up, something big. Something bad.

  2

  I CALLED JEAN-CLAUDE’S strip club, Guilty Pleasures, first. He’d gone back to being manager there since he had enough vampires to help run the other businesses. Of course, I didn’t get Jean-Claude on the phone first thing. One of the employees answered and informed me that he was on stage. I told them I’d call back, and yes, it was important, so have him call me ASAP.

  I hung up and stared at the phone. What was my sweetie doing while I sat in my office a few miles away? I pictured all that long dark hair, the pale perfection of his face, and I was thinking too hard. I could feel him. Feel the woman in his arms as she clung to him. He held her face between his hands to keep the kiss from getting out of hand, to keep her from shredding her own lips against the sharp points of his fangs. I felt her eagerness. Saw inside her mind, that she wanted him to take her here and now on the stage in front of everyone. She didn’t care; she just wanted him.

  Jean-Claude fed on that desire, that need. He fed on it, as other vampires fed on blood. Half-naked waiters came onto the stage to help pry her, gently, from him. They helped her back to her seat, while she cried, cried for what she could not have. She had paid for a kiss, and she’d gotten that, but Jean-Claude always left you wanting more. I should know.

  He spoke like some seductive wind through my mind, “Ma petite, what are you doing here?”

  “Thinking too hard,” I whispered to the empty office, but he heard me.

  He smiled with at least two different types of lipstick smeared around his mouth. “You entered my mind while I fed the ardeur and it did not rise in you; you have been practicing.”

  “Yeah.” It felt weird saying it out loud in the empty, dim office, especially because I could hear the hum and murmur of the club around him. The women clamoring to be next, waving their cash for him to choose them.

  “I must choose a few more; then we may talk.”

  “Use the phone,” I said. “I’m at the office.”

  He laughed, and the sound echoed through me, shivered down my skin, made things low in my body tighten. I drew away from him, closed the metaphysical links between us enough so I wouldn’t get sucked back into his act. Then I tried to think about something else, anything else. If I’d known enough about baseball, I’d have thought about that, but that wasn’t my sport. Jean-Claude didn’t strip, but he did feed off the crowd’s sexual energy. In another century he’d have been called an incubus, a demon that fed on lust. The thought almost pulled me back to him, but I thought, Think about legal stuff, the law. Something. In this century he just had to put a disclaimer in several prominent places in the club stating, “Warning: Vampire powers will be part of the entertainment. There are no exceptions. By being inside the club, you give permission for the legal use of vampire powers upon yourself and anyone with you.”

  The new laws that had helped make vamps legal hadn’t really caught up to everything they could do. You couldn’t do one-on-one mind control, though mass hypnosis was okay, because the call wasn’t as deep, or as complete. One-on-one mind control meant the vampire could call people out of their beds, force them to come to the vampire. Mass hypnosis didn’t work that way, or that was the theory. A vamp couldn’t drink blood without getting the donor’s permission first. You couldn’t use vamp powers to get sex. Beyond that, the law stated that you had to notify humans in your place of business, and beyond that the law got really vague. The last no-no about no vamp powers for sex had been added only last year. It was treated like a date-rape drug, for legal purposes. Except that a vampire convicted of its use was sentenced to death, not trial or jail. Malcolm was right about the double standard. Vampires were people under the law, but they didn’t get all the rights that the rest of the American citizenry got. Of course, most of the rest of the citizens couldn’t tear iron bars from their sockets and use mind control to wipe people’s memories. They’d been deemed too dangerous for jail after a few bloody, and very messy, escapes.

  So my job as vamp executioner had been invented. I don’t m
ean to make it sound like I was the first one with the job. I wasn’t. The ones who took the job first were people who had been slaying vampires when they were still illegal, so you could kill them on sight with no legal problems. The government had actually yanked the credentials of some people who’d had a hard time understanding that they had to wait for a warrant of execution before killing anyone. They’d finally had to put one of the old-style vamp hunters in jail. He was still in jail five years later. That had sent the message they wanted.

  I’d come in at the tail end of the old school, but mostly I had never killed a vampire that hadn’t been covered by legal paperwork.

  I glanced at my watch. I still had enough time to run home, change into date clothes, get Nathaniel, and make the movie.

  The phone rang, and I jumped. Nervous, who me? “Hello?” I made it a question.

  “Ma petite, what is wrong?” That smooth voice eased over the phone like a hand caressing down my skin. It wasn’t sexual this time; it was calming. He’d picked up my nervousness. In the middle of feeding the ardeur, he’d missed it.

  “Malcolm came to see me.”

  “About the blood-oathing?”

  “Yes, and no,” I said.

  “Why yes, and no, ma petite?”

  I told him what Malcolm had told me. Somewhere in the middle of the talk, he shut down the metaphysical link between us, shut it down so hard and so tight that I couldn’t feel anything from him. We could share each other’s dreams, but if we shielded hard enough, we could shut each other out. But it took work, and we didn’t do it often lately. The silence when I finished was so complete that I had to ask, “Jean-Claude, you still there? I can’t even hear you breathing.”

  “I do not have to breathe, ma petite, as well you know.”

  “It’s just a saying,” I said.

  He sighed then, and the sound of it shivered over my skin. This time it was sexual. He could use some of his powers on me and still shield like a son of a bitch. I couldn’t. When I shielded that tight, I was cut off from a lot of my abilities. “Stop that. Don’t try to distract me with your voice. What is it that Malcolm can’t speak of without being killed?”