Anita Blake 11 - Cerulean Sins Page 5

  The Circus of the Damned was a combination of a live action drama with frightening themes; traditional, if macabre, circus performances; a carnival complete with rides, games, corn dogs, funnel cakes; and a side show that would give even me nightmares.

  Behind the Circus was dark and quiet. The calliope music that blared out front was a distant dream back here. Once upon a time I'd only come to the Circus to kill vampires. Now I used the employee parking lot. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

  I was actually a few steps from the Jeep, when I realized that Asher was still sitting in the car, immobile. I sighed and went back to the car. I had to tap on his window to get him to look at me. I half expected him to jump, but he didn't. He just turned his face slowly towards me like someone in a nightmare who knows if they move too fast the monster will get them.

  I expected him to open the door, but he just stared at me. I took a deep breath and counted slowly. I did not have time to hold his emotional wounds closed. Jean-Claude, my sweetie, was down under the Circus, entertaining the bogeyman of vampire-kind. Asher had told me no harm had come to anyone, yet. But I wouldn't actually believe it until I saw Jean-Claude, touched his hand. As much as I cared for Asher, I did not have time for this. None of us did.

  I opened the door for him. Still, he did not move. "Asher, don't fall apart on me here. We need you tonight."

  He shook his head. "You must know. Anita, Jean-Claude didn't send me to you because I travel faster than anyone else. He sent me to get me away from her."

  "Are you not supposed to go back in?" I asked.

  He shook his head again, all those golden waves swimming around his face. His eyes were their normal ice-blue in the dome light. "I am his témoin, his second, I must go back inside."

  "Then you're going to have to get out of the Jeep," I said.

  He looked down at his hands, limp in his lap. "I know." But he still didn't move.

  I put one hand on the door and the other on the roof, leaning in towards him. "Asher… if you can't do this, then fly to my house, hide in the basement, we've got an extra coffin."

  He did look up then. There was anger in his face. "Let you go in there alone? No, never. If something happened to you…" He looked down again, his hair hiding his face like the curtain he'd made of it. "I could not live with the knowledge that I had failed you."

  I sighed again. "Great, thanks for the sentiment. I know you mean it, but that means you have to get out of the car now."

  A gust of wind slapped against my back, too much wind, like the wind Asher had raised in the cemetery. I went for my gun as I dropped to one knee.

  Damian landed in front of me. The barrel of the gun was aimed low at his body. If he'd been a little shorter than six feet, it would have been chest high.

  I let out a breath slowly and eased my finger off the trigger. "Damn, Damian, you startled me, and that can be real unhealthy." I got to my feet.

  "Sorry," he said, "but Micah wanted you to have someone else with you." He spread his hands wide, showing himself both unarmed and harmless. He might have been unarmed, but harmless, never that. It wasn't just that Damian was handsome—a lot of men, dead and alive, are handsome. His hair fell in a straight, silken curtain, scarlet, like a spill of blood. It was what red hair looked like after more than six hundred years of no sun. He blinked green eyes into the lights of the streetlamps overhead. A green that any cat would envy. The eyes were three shades brighter than the T-shirt that clung to his upper body. Black slacks fell over black dress shoes. A black belt with a silver buckle completed the outfit. Damian hadn't dressed up, he'd just been wearing slacks and dress shoes. Most of the vamps that had recently come from Europe didn't feel comfortable in jeans and jogging shoes.

  Yeah, he was a treat for the eyes, but that wasn't the danger. The fact that I wanted to touch him, to run my hands up the white, white skin of his arms. That was the danger. It wasn't love, or even lust. Through a series of accidents and emergencies, I'd bound Damian to me as my vampire servant. Which was impossible, I mean vamps have human servants, but humans don't have vampire servants. I was beginning to understand why the Council used to kill all necromancers on sight. Damian was glowing with good health, which meant he'd recently fed on someone, but I knew it had been a willing victim, because I'd forbidden him to hunt. He would do exactly what I said, no more, no less. He obeyed me in all things, because he had no choice.

  "I knew I could get here before you went inside," he said.

  "Yeah, flying does have its benefits." I shook my head and put up my gun. I had to rub my hand on my skirt to keep from touching him. The palm of my hand ached to caress his skin. He wasn't my lover, or boyfriend, yet I craved his touch when he was near me, in a way that felt disturbingly familiar.

  I took a deep breath that seemed to shake just a little. "I told Micah not to send anyone until I'd found out what was up."

  Damian shrugged, hands up. "Micah said, go, so here I am." He kept his face carefully blank. There was a tension to him that said he was waiting for me to hurt the messenger.

  "Touch him," Asher said.

  His quiet voice from right behind me made me jump, but at least he'd gotten out of the Jeep.

  "What?"

  "Touch him, ma cherie, touch your servant."

  I felt heat climb up my face. "Is it that obvious?"

  He smiled at me, but not like he was happy. "I remember what it was like with… Julianna." He said her name in a whisper that still carried on the cool autumn air. It startled me a little to hear him say her name, he avoided her name if he could; saying it, or hearing it.

  "I'm Jean-Claude's human servant, but I don't feel an overwhelming need to touch him every time I see him."

  He looked up at me. "You don't."

  I started to say, no, then had to think about it. I did want to touch Jean-Claude when I saw him, but that was the sex, the rush of being a relatively new couple, wasn't it?

  I frowned and concentrated on something else. "Does Jean-Claude feel the same need to touch me?" Like I feel for Damian went unsaid.

  "Almost certainly," Asher said.

  I frowned harder. "He hides it well."

  "Because to expose such raw need to you would have made you run away." He touched my elbow, a light touch. "I did not mean to give away uncomfortable secrets, but we must show a united front for… her, this night. When you touch Damian you gain power, just as when Jean-Claude touches you and Richard, he gains power."

  I took a deep breath, let it out slowly. One thing I was almost certain of was that Richard wouldn't be here tonight. He hadn't come near the Circus of the Damned since we broke up. It weakened us that one-third of our triumvirate was missing. He'd promised to come to the Circus in three months' time to greet Musette, but he wouldn't come early. I would bet my life on that, and maybe I was. Who the hell knew what was inside the Circus waiting for us?

  I glanced from one vampire to the other, then shook my head. We needed to get inside, and I needed to stop being squeamish. Asher needed it, too, but I couldn't control what he did, only what I did.

  I touched Damian's arm, and power flared between us like a breath of wind. I slid my hand down the smoothness of his arm, using everything but the tips of my fingers. The tips of my fingers hurt when they brushed things too solidly. His breath came out in a shudder, as I slid my left hand into his right, squeezing my fingers 'round his. As long as I didn't squeeze too hard, my bandaged fingers were fine. It felt so right to touch him. It was hard to explain, because touching him didn't make me think of sex. It wasn't like touching Jean-Claude, or Micah, or even Richard. Richard and I were feuding, but he could still affect me just by being present. When I could be in the same room with Richard and not feel my body tighten, then I'd know that I was truly out of love with him.

  "I don't mind that Micah sent backup."

  I felt his hand, his arm, his body give up the tension I hadn't even realized he was holding. He smiled and squeezed my hand back. "Good."

 
"You've mellowed," a voice behind us called. We all whirled, to find Jason walking towards us over the pavement. He was grinning, proud he'd startled us, I think.

  "Damn quiet for a werewolf," I said.

  He was wearing jeans, jogging shoes, and a short leather jacket. Jason was as American as I was, we liked the casual look. His blond hair was still cut short like a young executive. It made him look older, more grown-up. Somehow without the hair to trail around his face, you noticed his eyes more, blue, the color of an innocent spring sky. The color never matched the twinkle in his eye.

  "A little warm for a leather jacket," I said.

  He unzipped the jacket in one smooth motion, and flashed his bare chest and stomach, still walking towards us, never missing a beat. Sometimes I forgot that Jason's day job was as a stripper at Guilty Pleasures, one of Jean-Claude's other clubs. Then there were moments like this when he managed to remind me.

  "I didn't have time to dress when Jean-Claude sent me out to wait for you."

  "Why the hurry?" I asked.

  "Musette has offered to share her pomme de sang with Jean-Claude, if he'll share me with her."

  Pomme de sang meant literally, apple of blood, it was slang with the vamps for someone that was much more than simply a blood donor. Jean-Claude had once described it as a beloved mistress, except instead of sex you got blood. A kept woman, or in Jason's case, a kept man.

  "I thought it was a faux pas to ask to feed on someone else's pomme de sang," I said.

  "It can also be a great courtesy and honor," Asher said. "You may trust Musette to turn custom into torment if she is able."

  "So she's not offering up her pomme de sang to honor Jean-Claude, she's doing it because she knows he won't want to share Jason?"

  "Oui," Asher said.

  "Great, just great. What other little vampire customs are going to come up and bite us on the butt tonight?"

  He smiled and raised my hand to his lips for a quick, chaste kiss. "Many, I would think, ma cherie, very many." He looked at Jason. "In truth, I am amazed that Musette allowed you to leave her presence without sharing blood."

  Jason's grin faded. "Her pomme de sang is illegal in this country, so Jean-Claude had to decline."

  "Illegal," I said, "in what way?"

  He sighed, looking decidedly unhappy. "The girl can't be more than fifteen."

  "And it's against the law to take blood from a minor," I said.

  "Jean-Claude informed her of this, which is how I come to be standing out here in the cold."

  "It's not cold," Damian said.

  Jason shivered. "That is a matter of opinion." He huddled the still unzipped jacket around his bare body. "Jean-Claude doesn't want you to be surprised, Anita, but two of the vamps with her are children."

  I could feel my face tightening with anger.

  "It's not that bad, they aren't new. At a guess I'd say several hundred years old, minimum. Even in the United States they'd be grandfathered in under the current law."

  I tried to ease some of the tension I was holding. I'd let go of everyone's hand, because I had this urge to have my hands free for weapons. There was nothing to fight, not yet, but the urge was still there.

  Damian touched my arm, tentative, afraid the anger would spill over onto him, I think. My usual theory was anybody to be angry at was better than nobody to be angry at. I was trying to be better than that, more fair, but damn, it was hard.

  When I didn't jerk away, or yell at him, Damian touched my hand, and his fingers light across my skin made me feel calmer. "Do you think Musette brought an underage pomme just to see what we'd do?"

  "Musette likes the young," Asher said, voice still very quiet, not a whisper but close, as if he were afraid of being overheard. And maybe he was.

  I looked up at Asher. Damian's fingers were still moving, lightly, over the back of my hand. "She's not a pedophile, please tell me she's not."

  He shook his head. "No, not for sex, Anita, but blood, yes, she likes them young."

  Yuck. "She cannot take blood from anyone under eighteen while she's in this country. Doing that can get you an order of execution with your name on it, and I'm the Executioner."

  "I believe that Musette was carefully chosen by Belle Morte. Belle has other lieutenants that have less objectionable habits. I believe that Musette is an ordeal in the traditional sense of the word. She has been sent by Belle to test us, especially you, I think, you and perhaps Richard."

  "Why do we get special treatment?" I asked.

  "Because Belle does not know either of you of old. She likes to test her blades before blooding them, Anita."

  "I am not her blade, I'm not her anything."

  Asher had a patient look on his face. "She is le sourdre de sang, the fountainhead of our bloodline. Belle is like an empress, and all the master vampires that descend from her line are kings that owe her fealty. To owe fealty means to owe so many troops to the cause."

  "What cause?"

  He let out an exasperated breath. "Whatever cause the empress wishes."

  I shook my head. "You're not really making sense to me here." Damian's hand was still playing lightly over mine. I think if he hadn't been touching me, I'd have been more upset.

  "Belle considers all who descend from her line, hers, thus through Jean-Claude you and Richard belong to her."

  I shook my head and started to speak. Asher held up his hand. "Please, let me finish. It does not matter, Anita, whether you agree that you and Richard belong to Belle. It matters only that she believes you belong to her. She sees you as more weapons in her arsenal. Can you understand that?"

  "I understand what you're saying, I don't agree that I belong to anyone, but I can see where Belle Morte might think so."

  He nodded, looked a little relieved, as if he hadn't been sure what he'd do if I'd continued to argue. "Bon, bon, then you must agree that Belle will want to test the metal of her two newest weapons."

  "Test how?" I asked.

  "For one thing, by bringing an underage pomme de sang to America and flaunting it in front of the Executioner herself. If Musette has offered to share pomme de sangs, then she may also offer to share human servants. It is considered a great honor to do so."

  "Share?" I asked, instantly suspicious. Damian's fingers had sped up, but I didn't tell him to stop, because anger was tightening my shoulders, my arms.

  "Share blood, probably, because most vampires take blood from their human servants. Do not worry about sex, ma cherie, Musette is not a lover of women."

  I half shrugged. "I guess that's a relief." I frowned. "If she considers me and Richard part of her… whatever, then what about his pack and my pard? Does Belle consider our people her people?"

  Asher licked his lips, and I knew the answer before he said it. "It would be like her to assume that."

  "So Musette and company will be testing not just me, or Richard, but the rest of our people." I made it a statement.

  "It is logical to assume so," he said.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I hate vampire politics."

  "She's not yelling yet," Jason said, "I've never seen her this calm after this much bad news."

  I opened my eyes and frowned at him.

  "I believe it is Damian's influence," Asher said.

  Jason's eyes flicked down to where Damian was playing gently with my hand. "You mean just touching her like that is helping her hold her temper?"

  Asher nodded.

  I had an urge to make Damian stop touching me, but I didn't, because I was furious. How dare anyone come into our territory and test us? How arrogant! How typically vampire. And I was tired already, tired of the games to come. If Jean-Claude would just let me shoot everyone in Musette's party tonight, it would save a lot of trouble. I just knew it would.

  I did make Damian stop playing with my hand by taking his hand in mine and holding it firmly. The edge of my anger softened. I was still angry, but it was distant, manageable. Damn, Asher was right. I hated that. Hated that s
ome new metaphysical bullshit had reached up to force me into closer personal contact with yet another vampire. Why couldn't metaphysics work just once without all the touchie-feelie crap?

  Jason was looking at us, an odd expression on his face. "I think we should attach Damian to Anita for the night."

  "You think Musette is going to piss me off that badly?" I asked.

  "She's not hurt anyone, yet, Anita, not raised a finger to anyone, yet everyone's terrified. I'm fucking terrified, and I can't figure out why. She's this cute little blond thing, and she's gorgeous like a life size Barbie doll, with smaller breasts, but hey a man doesn't need more than a mouthful, right?"

  "You're over-sharing," I said.

  He didn't smile at me. His face was way too serious. "Normally, I wouldn't mind a gorgeous vampire sinking fang into me, but Anita, I do not want this chick to touch me." He looked scared all of a sudden, scared and younger even than his twenty-two years. "I do not want her touching me." He stared up at me with haunted eyes. "Jean-Claude's promised me that Musette isn't one of those vampires who rots all over you. But it doesn't matter, I'm still so scared of her that it makes my stomach hurt."

  I reached out my free hand, and Jason came to me. I hugged him and could feel a fine tremble running through him. He was cold, but not the kind of cold that extra clothes would fix. "We'll keep her off of you, Jason."