Danse Macabre

13



SOMEONE HAD CLEANED up the living room. The torn drapes were gone, and the remaining ones had been moved to make long swags of cloth against the stone walls. It didn't make cloth walls now, but it was pretty, and helped give the illusion that the carpeted area was its own space, and not part of the larger rock room. The electric lights seemed odd now that you could see the torches in the hallway.



We walked up hand in hand, me in the middle of the men. Richard's hand was oh-so-slightly damp. He was nervous, but it didn't show on his face. I wished I could have asked what exactly was making him nervous. But even if there hadn't been company I wouldn't have asked. He was being brave and cooperative, and I wasn't going to poke at it. Honest.



Asher rose from the chair where he'd sat and entertained our guests. There were half a dozen black-garbed guards scattered throughout the room. Claudia and her crew followed behind us like an honor guard. I think she'd decided no more taking chances tonight. We had enough manpower to fill a room, so she was going to do it. None of us were going to argue.



Asher glided toward us, and it was almost as if his feet didn't touch the ground, as if he were floating. He was always graceful, but not like that. He was one of the best at levitating that I'd ever seen, so that he could do what the legends say: Asher could fly. Tonight it was as if he could barely force himself to walk when he knew he had wings and longed to use them. He was like some earthbound angel waiting to fling himself skyward. His clothes helped the angelic illusion. He was all in white with gold and copper thread worked through the frock coat, and along a pair of silk pants that ended at his knees, where white hose took up, and ended in white high heels with golden buckles. The shoes reminded me that the original high heel was meant for men.



His hair was the color of the gold thread in his clothes, as if the seamstress had used his own hair to decorate the cloth. He used that hair like a shield, to hide the scars on the right side of his face. He'd been so worried about what the other masters, many of whom knew him before the scarring, would think of him, that he had requested we take down all the paintings that showed him before. The side of the face that showed beside that fall of truly golden hair was the face of some medieval angel, if you liked your angels sensuous, and a little fallen. That full, kissable mouth smiled at us all. His eyes managed to be both pale blue, and a vibrant color, as if a winter sky could burn with pale, clear blue. Only one eye showed clear; the other one seemed to wink and burn when glimpsed through the hair, as if light were glancing off glass.



He offered his hand first to Jean-Claude, and said what Jean-Claude usually didn't like to hear. "Master, our friend from Cape Cod begs a word." His words were utterly polite, but his face glowed with some suppressed excitement. Something had filled our usually solemn Asher with delight, but what?



Jean-Claude arched an eyebrow, as if he wanted to ask what was up, too.



Asher's voice floated through my mind. "The new power level is amazing."



I felt Richard jerk, as if he'd been hit.



I looked at him, and saw from his wide eyes that he'd probably heard it, too. The next mind whisper held a trace of laughter to it. "My apologies. I only meant Jean-Claude to hear, but I confess to having some trouble controlling all the new abilities."



Jean-Claude squeezed my hand, and it was his voice that came next. "Calm, we must all be calm for our guests."



Richard let his breath out slow, and gave a small nod. His abilities didn't lie with the dead, so he wasn't used to vamps, other than Jean-Claude, talking mind-to-mind with him. Even I wasn't used to them doing it by accident. How much power had he gained from this one feeding, and how much had others of our vampires gained? There were one or two I wasn't sure I wanted more powerful than they already were. Meng Die, for one.



Samuel and Sampson stood in front of the love seat. Asher led us to the couch across from them. The white carpet seemed emptier than normal. Oh, the coffee table was missing. Had we broken it after the ardeur rose? I couldn't remember.



I had my best professional smile plastered on my face, the one that's bright and cheery as a lightbulb, and about as warm. But it was the best I could do. I'd had about all the out-of-town visitors I could deal with for one night.



"Samuel, Sampson, you have not met our Richard."



Samuel bowed toward us. "Ulfric, it is good to meet you at last."



Sampson bowed a little lower than his father, and let him do the talking. They both looked way too solemn for my tastes, as if something else had gone wrong.



"Samuel, what brings you back to us tonight?" Jean-Claude asked. If he was tired of visitors it didn't show in his voice. He sounded pleasant, welcoming, the perfect host.



"First, the apology I owe you on behalf of my wife. I worry that something about her nature affected your servant, and may have helped cause what happened tonight."



I blinked at him, felt my smile slip a notch. Was this all someone else's fault? Was I going to have someone else to blame? Goody.



Jean-Claude sat down on the white couch, not so much pulling me down with him as leading, as you do in a dance. He sat, and I followed his lead, and Richard followed mine. Jean-Claude kept my hand in his, but Richard let go, and put his arm along the back of the couch. He was touching mostly me, but his hand moved along Jean-Claude's back, and ended lost in the thick curls of his hair.



"Where is your lovely wife, and your other sons?" Jean-Claude asked.



Asher sat in the overstuffed chair closest to us. He matched the chair and pillows perfectly, all white and gold. He still looked entirely too pleased with himself, like the proverbial cat with cream.



Samuel sat down on the love seat, and Sampson followed his father's lead. "They are at a hotel along with our two guards. I did not feel it wise to bring Thea and Anita together again tonight."



"What did she think of the show?" I asked.



Jean-Claude's hand tightened on my hand, where he held it in his lap. The squeeze was enough: Be nice, he was saying. I'd be nice. My version of it.



Richard had gone very quiet beside me, his arm tensed against my back. But it wasn't a warning to be careful, because his body temperature went up, as if he was thinking what I was thinking: was there someone else to get angry with, someone besides ourselves? Richard and I both preferred to be angry at other people.



"Thea was much impressed," he said, and his voice was mild, empty. His tone told nothing.



"If she was so impressed," I said, "then why isn't she here?"



Sampson smiled, and had to turn away to hide it.



"What's so funny?" I asked.



His father gave him an unfriendly look. Sampson fought to control his face, but finally burst out laughing. Samuel gave him his best ancient vampire disdain. "I'm sorry, Father," Sampson said in a voice still choked with laughter, "but you must admit it is funny. 'Impressed' does not begin to cover Mother's reaction to what Anita and Jean-Claude did tonight."



His father gave him a stony face, until the laughter faded round the edges. Then Samuel said in a voice that held an edge of injured dignity, "My son has been indiscreet, but he is accurate. You ask why Thea and my other sons are not here; simply put, I did not trust her near the two of you."



"She liked the show," I said.



Samuel shook his head, gave his son another disapproving look. "More than liked, Anita. She is all ablaze with speculative plans. Would it be possible for her and I to do what the two of you did? I find that unlikely, for though Thea carries something similar to the ardeur, I do not. I believe what you did to Augustine required similar gifts between the two of you."



Jean-Claude gave a small nod, face still empty. "I believe so."



"She is now convinced that Anita could bring our sons into the full strength of their siren's powers." Something crossed his face, too faint to read, but with such an empty face, it was strangely noticeable. "I do not share her certainty. What I felt from you tonight, Anita, is a different element of passion. It is like the difference between fire and water. They will both consume you, but in very different manners."



I looked at Sampson's face, still softly amused. "What did your mother actually say?" I asked.



He glanced at his father before he answered. Samuel sighed, then nodded. Sampson grinned at me, and said, "I don't think you really want to know what she said, but what she meant was that if she had her way, Tom and Cris would both be here. She'd be here, too. She'd be offering us all to you any way you wanted us." His face sobered around the edges. "She can get carried away sometimes, our mother. She means well, but she doesn't think entirely like a human being, do you understand?"



"I hang around with vampires, so yeah."



He shook his head, his hands clasped on his knees. "No, Anita, vampires start out human, as do shapeshifters, and necromancers"--he said that with a smile--"but Mother was never human. She thinks like..." He seemed unsure what to say.



Samuel finished for him. "Thea is other, and she reasons in ways that do not always make much sense to those of us who began life as human beings." He didn't sound entirely happy about it, but he stated it as truth.



"That must make life interesting," Richard said.



Samuel gave him cool eyes, but Sampson nodded, smiling. "You have no idea."



"What did you think of the show, Samuel?" Jean-Claude asked.



The other vampire thought about it, face careful, and his voice was just as careful when he answered, "I thought it was one of the most powerful things I have ever seen. I think it is the kind of power that made me flee the great courts, and it is exactly the sort of power that made me avoid Belle Morte's court. It is the kind of display that made me flee Europe for fear of becoming nothing but a vassal of some great vampiric lord."



"Do you fear us now?" Jean-Claude asked.



Samuel nodded. "I do."



"I would not harm you deliberately," Jean-Claude said.



"No, but your power is growing, and growing power is a wild and capricious thing. I do not want my people, or my sons, near you while your power finds its way. I think you will be incredibly dangerous, by accident, for years to come."



"Yet, you come before me with your son. Why? Why not leave my lands, if we are so dangerous?"



"Because Thea is right in one way. If she and I could by some chance duplicate what the two of you did, it would be"--he licked his lips--"worth the risk. I also agree that there is a chance that your Anita could bring my sons into their powers, if they have them."



"Do you believe your sons are so human?" Jean-Claude asked.



"Sampson is well over seventy in human years, so no, not so very human."



I looked at Sampson. He looked somewhere in his early twenties, maybe thirty at most. By no stretch of the imagination did he look seventy. "My," I said, "you're holding up well."



He grinned at me, and I liked the grin. He seemed to find the whole power game a little embarrassing, a little funny. "Clean living," he said, still grinning.



Richard moved beside me, a small, uncomfortable movement. I glanced at him, and his face was beginning to darken. One of Richard's biggest problems with our new lifestyle was jealousy. Of all the men trying to be in my life, he was the only one who found jealousy a real problem. Until I saw that look on his face, I'd been able to ignore that they were still talking about Sampson and me being lovers. I'd gotten better at pushing away the uncomfortable bits until I had to deal with them. Richard was still working on that.



"Thomas and Cristos seem to be aging at a more normal rate."



"They are only seventeen," Jean-Claude said, "too young to be certain, surely."



Samuel shrugged, a normal shrug, not that graceful Gallic movement.



"But for this, I think they are too young, too human, whatever Thea may wish."



"He's afraid you'd break them," Sampson said.



I couldn't help smiling. Richard's frown got deeper. "And your dad isn't worried about you?" I asked.



"He is my oldest," Samuel said, as if that meant more to him than it did to me.



"If you break me, he has two sons left," Sampson said, smiling to take the bite out of it.



Samuel touched his son's arm. "I hold all my children precious, you know that."



He smiled at his father, patted his hand where it lay on his arm. "I know that, Father, but for this kind of power you'd risk one of us, and I'm the most likely to survive without becoming her slave."



"My slave?" I made it a question. "I don't do slaves."



Sampson looked at me as if he were studying me, a shadow of his father's penetrating stare. "If Augustine is not your slave it will only be because he is powerful enough to recover. Not for lack of trying on your part, and I am not nearly as powerful as a Master of the City."



I opened my mouth, closed it, not sure what to say. I finally said, "I don't want anyone to be my slave."



"Then what did you want?" He kept his suddenly serious eyes on me.



I just blinked at him, trying to think. What had I wanted? What had I intended to do to Auggie? "Win," I said.



"What?" Sampson asked.



"Win. I wanted to win. Auggie and your father are supposed to be Jean-Claude's friends. But your mother had almost rolled me. She'd tried to raise the ardeur and make me fuck your brother, your little brother. Then Auggie raised the ardeur, and used his bloodline's special ability on me. If this is what Jean-Claude's friends do to us, then what are the other Masters of the City going to do?" I shook my head, leaning forward on the couch, still holding Jean-Claude's hand, but having to put my hand on Richard's thigh to keep touching him, too. "We had to win this fight. Had to."



"You had to win in such a way that the rest of us would not try your strength," Samuel said.



I nodded. "Yes."



He looked past us to the hallway beyond, so searching a look that it made Richard and me look behind us. Neither Jean-Claude, nor the silent Asher, bothered, as if they knew there was no one there.



"I believe you have succeeded, Anita. If Augustine follows you and Jean-Claude about like a lovesick puppy, then the rest will fear you. Some may even take back their offers of pomme de sang for fear of having you feed off them the way you fed off Augustine's people."



"We fed from Augustine's people because he is their master," Jean-Claude said. "No others offer themselves to ma petite's bed."



"Perhaps," Samuel said, "but I think if they did know what has happened with Augustine, they might be tempted. There is something about her that draws one. Even I feel it, and I am not of Belle's line."



"How strongly drawn?" Jean-Claude asked in that careful voice.



The two vampires looked at each other. There was suddenly something between them, not magic, but almost as if willpower could be something touchable.



"That is an odd question," Samuel said.



"Is it?" Jean-Claude asked, and his voice held a lilt at the end that sounded strangely chiding.



Samuel settled back against the love seat, as if he was going to be there for a while. Somehow they both knew they were negotiating. "It was surprisingly bad manners for Augustine to have started a fight with your human servant."



"Yes," Jean-Claude said, "it seemed out of character for him, don't you think?"



Samuel nodded. "I do."



Richard's free hand found mine where it rested on his leg. He began to run his thumb over my knuckles, as if he'd picked up the tension, too. Something was up, but what? What was Jean-Claude up to? I wasn't used to being shut out by both of the men, especially when we were touching, but whatever was happening tonight, Jean-Claude was holding us tight shut against each other. He usually only did that when he was afraid of what would happen if the marks opened. After our little show-down with Auggie I wasn't going to argue, but it made me head-blind around them, and I wasn't used to that. I hadn't realized that I'd started counting on getting hints from both their minds.



"I need advice, Samuel, advice from another Master of the City."



"What could I possibly advise you on? You are a sourdre de sang. I am but an ordinary Master of the City."



"I crave your wisdom, not your power."



The two of them stared at each other, and neither face showed a damn thing. Note to self, never play poker with master vamps. "I am always glad to share my wisdom with my friends."



"I need your trust, as well, Samuel."



"Friends must always trust each other."



I had a moment to wonder if "friends" meant for them what it had meant for Augustine and Jean-Claude. Not the time to ask.



"I trusted you tonight, Samuel, but Thea tried to force herself, and your Thomas, on my human servant. That is not the way a trusted friend behaves."



"I can only give you my deepest apologies, Jean-Claude. Thea is sometimes overly enthusiastic in her pursuit of our sons' powers."



Sampson and I both laughed at the same time. The vampires looked at us. "Sorry," I said, "but I think you're understating it."



"Mother, overly enthusiastic in pursuit of her children's destiny," Sampson laughed again, shaking his head.



Samuel frowned at him. Then he sighed and turned back to Jean-Claude. "Once I helped you, not for money, but because Augustine was my friend, and he asked a favor."



"Your ship was my escape to the new world," Jean-Claude said.



I remembered Auggie, in Jean-Claude's memory, saying something about a ship and a captain he trusted. Had that been Samuel?



"I propose that we put aside mistrust, and speak plainly. I propose that we act as true friends and not adversaries."



"All master vampires are adversaries," Jean-Claude said.



Samuel smiled. "You speak what you have been told, not what you believe." He looked at Asher. "He is master enough to have his own territory, but he stays with you out of love. You do not fear each other."



"No, but you and I have never been close in the way of lovers."



Samuel waved his hand in the air as if Jean-Claude had missed his point. "I do not covet your lands. Do you covet mine?"



Jean-Claude smiled. "No."



"I do not covet your lady, do you covet mine?"



Jean-Claude shook his head. "No."



"We have different animals to call, so that cannot even be shared. We are no threat to each other, Jean-Claude, our powers are too different. Let us help each other, and leave off this game playing. Let us come in honesty and friendship."



Jean-Claude gave one brief nod. "Agreed." Then he gave a wide smile. "You first."



Samuel laughed, sudden and wide enough to flash fangs. It was an echo of Sampson's laughter, as if when human he'd been even more like his son.



The thought made me wonder: if I was pregnant, who would the baby be like? Would it be a little carbon copy of someone? Would there be a little Jean-Claude running around? The thought of a baby was terrifying, but the thought of a little living version of Jean-Claude wasn't horrible. I shook my head, hard enough that they all looked at me.



"What is wrong, ma petite?"



"Sorry, thinking too hard. Maybe I've never seen master vamps talk about honesty and friendship. Takes some getting used to."



Samuel smiled at me. "I suppose for the Executioner, it would be a very alien concept."



I shook my head. "No, as Jean-Claude's human servant, that is where it gets weird. As the Executioner I just kill people, I don't talk to them."



He looked at me with those brown-green eyes, a long, considering look. He turned the look back to Jean-Claude. "I think we can help each other, Jean-Claude. I will begin." He gave a long sigh. "When Sampson said that Thea does not think like a human, he is quite right. She is the last of the sirens, and it preys upon her mind. She sees the promise of power in our boys, and she is determined that it be brought out." Samuel hesitated, and even through centuries of control he seemed uncomfortable. "Thea comes from a time and a people where close family relationships were not a hindrance to sex, or even marriage. Her people were worshipped as gods and goddesses. Are you familiar with the Greek mythos?"



"Anyone who is classically educated is familiar with the myths," Jean-Claude said.



"You're making this a long story, Father."



Samuel looked at him. "I admit that now that the time has come to be honest, I am having second thoughts."



Sampson touched his father's hand. "Let me, then."



He shook his head. "No, I am master, and father, and I will do it." He looked back at Jean-Claude. "Thea tried to bring Sampson into his powers as a siren."



Jean-Claude and I just blinked at him. Richard was lost, because we hadn't given him the whole story about how sirens come into their power. Or had we? I couldn't remember anymore. I was the one who said, "Do you mean that your wife tried to seduce your son?"



He nodded. "Sampson came to me, and I told her, in no uncertain terms, that if she ever tried to do it again I would kill her. When the twins began to exhibit faint signs of power, I gave her the talk again."



"Would you truly slay her?" Jean-Claude asked.



The polite mask dropped, and Samuel's eyes blazed for a second, before he lowered his eyes, and hid the anger. "I love my wife, but I love my sons, and they are children and cannot protect themselves against her."



"In my mother's defense," Sampson said, "when I said no, she took no for an answer. She didn't have to. I'm her son, but I'm not a siren yet; if she'd pushed her powers, then I wouldn't have had a choice. She stopped when she realized I was horrified. She didn't understand why it bothered me, but she accepted it."



Richard and I exchanged glances, and for the first time I think we were both thinking, Gee, it could be worse. That there was a vampire out there sexually more disturbing than Jean-Claude and Belle Morte. EEEK!



"I fear," Samuel said, "that Thea's restraint will not be perfect. The twins are seventeen, old enough to marry, old enough for much. I fear that she will be tempted to push with them, and they are not as strong of will as Sampson. It might take less to cloud their minds and lusts."



"And would you do as you threatened?" Jean-Claude asked. "Even if the sex were to make them full sirens?" His face and voice were back to being very neutral.



"They would come into their powers, but I am not certain that their sanity would survive it. Can you imagine someone with Thea's powers, or even more powerful because of my bloodline, but mad, completely broken in the mind? I do not wish to be forced to either imprison or kill my own child, Jean-Claude, and that is what we might have to do." He shook his head, and the worry on his face was like scars, so deep, as if he had carried this burden for a very long time.



"It would be a terrible choice," Jean-Claude said.



Samuel gathered himself, and his face was back to being neutral, hail-fellow-well-met, boy-next-door-handsome. "But if we can find a way to bring them into their powers without Thea being involved, then the choices are not horrible. The choices are wonderous, powerful, and I would be in your debt."



"It is by no means certain that sex with ma petite will do for your sons what you wish."



I opened my mouth to protest that I hadn't agreed to sex with any of them, but he squeezed my hand, as if, wait.



"Perhaps not, but I believe that I could convince Thea that if Anita could not make them full sirens, none could, not even Thea herself. If Anita tries and fails, then I believe that Thea would accept that they are not sirens."



Jean-Claude looked at me, then. "If you have questions, ma petite, Richard, now is the time for them."



Richard said, "Did you say seventeen?"



Samuel nodded.



Richard looked at me, and the look was eloquent.



"I've already turned them down as too young, Richard. You don't need the look, thanks." I took my hand out of his, because I hadn't deserved the look he gave me.



"But you'll fuck Sampson."



I stood up, letting go of both of them, and stared down at him. "Apologize to me, Richard. Apologize to me, now."



Embarrassment was on his face, but so was anger. "I shouldn't have said it, and I'm sorry I said it, but don't expect me to be happy that you're adding another man to your list of lovers. I'm not going to be happy about it, Anita, I'm just not."



"Do I ask how many women you've slept with this week?"



"No, but you don't have to meet them, either."



I couldn't argue that. "Fine, you're right. It would probably bug me to meet your dates." I threw my hands up in the air. "Damn it, Richard, do you have an opinion on this that isn't based on jealousy?"



He looked down, then got up from the couch, and paced away to the edge of the carpet. "All I can see when I look at Sampson is that he's not bad looking, and he's about my height, and... I don't want you fucking him. But then I don't want you fucking anyone but me, so--" He spread his hands wide, and shrugged.



"Have I raised a sore point?" Samuel asked.



"An ongoing disagreement," Jean-Claude said.



"If this is a problem," Sampson said, "then forget it. We were under the impression that everyone was okay with Anita adding to her list of men."



Richard crossed his arms across his chest, and said, "And if we don't do this, because I'm not happy about it, and your mother..." He closed his eyes, his face struggling with so many emotions. "God help me, but you and your brothers are actually in a more perverted sexual mess than we are. If I say no, and the worst happens..." He paced the edge of the white carpet as if the walls were still there. "I don't want to watch, but it has to be Anita's call. I won't say no. Neither of us is monogamous, so why should I bitch?" He stood there arms crossed, shoulders hunched as if something hurt.



"Anita," Samuel said.



I looked at him, still standing. I sighed. "I'd rather not add to my list of men either, truthfully, but as Jean-Claude has explained to me, I need a new pomme de sang sooner rather than later. I'm not promising, but I'll agree to try." I couldn't look at anyone when I said it, because it felt squeechy. To agree to try to take another lover, in front of three men I was already sleeping with.



"Good," Samuel said, and there was such relief in that one word that I looked at him. He was smiling, his eyes sparkling with happiness, and tears. Unshed tears glittered in his eyes. In that moment I realized that he had accepted that his wife would seduce one of their sons, and he would kill her, and the son would be mad, and he would have to kill him, and... too Oedipal for words. Samuel had accepted that someday the worst would happen, and suddenly he was saved. He looked like a man who had thought the executioner was coming, and the governor called instead.



I still wasn't sure how I felt about adding to my men, but it was nice, for a change, to be someone's salvation instead of their doom. Yeah, being the savior instead of the executioner, that sounded pretty damn good.



14



SAMUEL SMILED AT Jean-Claude, and it was like a lot about Samuel, a very human smile. I realized that he, like Auggie, could be more "normal" than most vamps I'd ever seen. Was it a vamp trick like Auggie's had been? Maybe. Was it any of my business to mess with it, and reveal his secret? Nope. No more grand revelations tonight, not that were my fault anyway. I wasn't messing with anyone or anything tonight if I could help it. My goal was simply to get through the rest of this interview without anything bad happening. Why was I so worried? I'd sat back down beside Jean-Claude, but Richard hadn't. Richard was still standing, arms folded, shoulders rounded as if with pain. I knew the look on his face, it was the look that usually meant we were going to have a really bad fight. I didn't want to fight tonight, not with anyone, but especially not with Richard.



Jean-Claude touched my hand. It made me jump, and turn startled to him. "What is wrong, ma petite?"



I gave him a look, and rolled my eyes back to our other third. "Ah," he said.



I gripped Jean-Claude's hand tight, and tried to head this fight off. "Richard?" I made his name a question.



He turned those smoldering brown eyes to me. "What?" That one word was so angry that even he flinched. "I'm sorry, what is it, Anita?"



"You don't have to pick a fight with me to leave." There, that was as honest and as calm as I could make it.



He frowned at me. "What does that mean?"



"It means that ever since we started talking to Samuel about his sons and their problem, your tension level has done nothing but rise."



"And if we were talking about me having sex with three new women, two of them seventeen years old, wouldn't you be angry?"



I thought about it, then nodded. "Yes."



"Then don't expect me to be happy about it."



"What am I supposed to do, Richard, apologize? I wouldn't even be sure what I was apologizing about. Anyway, I've told you that my answer was no on the seventeen-year-old."



"I think, Jean-Claude, Sampson and I will leave you all for the night." Samuel stood. "You seem to have much to discuss."



Sampson stood alongside his father. He was about two inches taller than Samuel, as if he'd gained height from his mother's genetics. I wondered what else he might have gained. I really didn't know much about mermaids, or sirens. I probably needed to remedy that before I got too up close and personal with any of them.



"Not yet, my friend, please," Jean-Claude said. He looked at Richard, giving a peaceful face to the unhappy one. "We need some riddles answered before we dare take ma petite among our brethren tomorrow night."



Samuel nodded, and sat back down. "You're wondering, if you take her among nearly a dozen Masters of the City, whether the night will be even more interesting than this one."



Jean-Claude nodded. "Exactement."



"Are these questions that only a vampire can answer?" Sampson asked.



"It is from a master like your father that I need advice," Jean-Claude said.



"Then, I could go back to the hotel and check on Mother and the twins."



"I think they have enough watchdogs, Sampson," his father said.



Sampson gave his father a look like he was trying to say something with his eyes, and his father wasn't getting it.



"You're leaving because you think it will make me less upset," Richard said.



Sampson looked at him, with that open, honest face, and nodded.



"That's..." Richard's face struggled with his emotions, because a friendly gesture, honestly given, always touched him. "That's really... good of you."



"You obviously don't like sharing Anita, and now here I am asking you to share her again. We need her to help us. I don't want to lose my mother and one, or both, of my little brothers." Sampson shook his head, eyes staring off into space, but not seeing anything in this room. The look in his eyes was haunted as if he, like his father, had given up on avoiding the tragedy. As if he'd been picturing it all in his head for months, trying to make peace with it, and failing.



He looked up at Richard. "I won't give up this chance to save my family, but I am sorry that it's causing you pain." He came out into the middle of the room, facing Richard. "If my going will make you feel better, I can do that."



Richard hung his head, his newly long hair hiding most of his face. When he raised it again he looked like a man coming out of deep water, shaking his hair back from his face. "Insult to injury, damn it."



"Did I say something wrong?" Sampson asked.



"No, nothing wrong," Richard said. He sighed, and his arms started to unfold, stiffly, as if it hurt him to let go of the anger. "No, I just didn't want to like you."



Sampson looked puzzled. "I don't understand."



"If I can hate you, I can get angry, and storm out. If you'd acted like some kind of lustful asshole, I could have just gone. Wrapped my injured righteousness around me, and gotten the hell out of here."



I stood up and faced him; Jean-Claude kept my hand lightly in his. "I've already told you, Richard," I said, "you don't have to pick a fight to leave."



"Yes," he said, "I do. Because I know that I cripple us as a power by simply not being here when you need me. If I'd been here, Auggie wouldn't have rolled you. I have no one but myself to blame that you and Jean-Claude fucked Auggie." His voice held the edge of warmth, and the first bite of his power flickered through the room.



I took a few steps, leaving Jean-Claude's hand behind. "Why are you responsible for everything?" I asked. "I deal with more undead than you do; I should have been able to protect myself. And maybe I should have seen it coming, but I'm not beating myself up about it. It happened, and now we deal with it."



"Is it really that easy for you, Anita? It happened, now we deal with it, we move on?"



I thought about it, then nodded. "Yes, it is, because it has to be. My life wouldn't work if I wallowed in every disaster, every moral quandary. I can't afford the luxury of self-doubt, not to that degree."



"Luxury," Richard said. "This isn't luxury, Anita, it's morality. It's your conscience. That's not a luxury item, that's what separates us from the animals."



Here we go again, I thought. Out loud I said, "I have a conscience, Richard, and my own set of morals. Do I ever worry that I'm a bad guy? Yeah, sometimes I do. Do I wonder if I've traded away pieces of my soul, just to survive? Yeah." I shrugged. "It's the price of doing business in the real world, Richard."



"This isn't the real world, Anita. This isn't the normal workaday world."



"No, but it's our world." I was facing him now, almost close enough to touch. He was controlling himself, because his power was only a warm pressure in the air.



He waved his hands around the room. "This is not where I want to be, Anita. I don't want to live where my choices are sharing you with other men, or having people die. I don't want those choices."



I sighed, and let him see that I was tired, and sad, and sorry. "There was a time when I would have agreed with you, but I like parts of my life a lot, Richard. I hate the ardeur, but I don't hate everything it's brought into my life. I'd have liked to try that whole picket-fence thing, but I think even without the ardeur and the vampire marks, that it wouldn't have been my gig."



"I think it would have been," he said.



"Richard, I don't think you see me. I don't think you see who I am."



"How can you say that to me? If I don't shield I share your dreams, and your nightmares."



"But you're still trying to shove me in a box that I don't think fit me even when we met. Just like you're trying to shove yourself into a box that doesn't fit you, either."



He was shaking his head. "That's not true. That's not true."



"Which part?" I asked.



"I think we could have made it, our version of the white picket fence, without him," and he pointed at Jean-Claude.



Jean-Claude was giving his most peaceful, empty face, as if he were afraid to do or say anything.



"Don't try to blame all our problems on Jean-Claude."



"Why not, it's true. If he had left us alone, not marked us."



"You'd be dead," I said.



He frowned at me. "What?"



"Without the extra power of the marks with Jean-Claude you'd never have had the power to kill Marcus and keep the pack."



"That's not true."



I just stared at him. "Yeah, Richard, I was there, it is true. You'd be dead, and I'd still be living alone sleeping with my stuffed toys and guns. You'd be dead and I'd be dead inside, dying of loneliness, not just because you would be gone, but because my life was empty before. I was like a lot of people who do police work. I was my job. I had nothing else. My life was full of death, and horror, and trying to stay ahead of the next horror. But I was losing the battle, Richard, losing myself, long before Jean-Claude marked me."



"I asked you to give up the police work. I told you it was eating you up."



I shook my head. "You're not listening to me, Richard, or you're not hearing me."



"Maybe I don't want to hear you. Or maybe I'm right, and you're not listening."



We stood barely two feet apart, but it might as well have been a thousand miles. Some distances are made out of things bigger and harder to travel across than mere miles. We stood and stared at each other across a chasm of misunderstanding, and pain, and love.



I tried one last time. "Say you're right. Say if Jean-Claude had left us alone you could have your perfect picture. I still wouldn't have given up the police work."



"You just said, it was destroying you."



I nodded. "Just because something's hard doesn't mean you give up on it." Somehow I thought I was talking about more than just police work.



"You said I was right."



"I said, say you're right. Let's just pretend that without Jean-Claude here, we would have found a way. But we are bound to him, Richard. We are a triumvirate of power. What we would change if life were totally different doesn't really matter."



"How can you say that?"



"What matters, Richard, is that we deal with the reality of our now, this minute. There are things we can't undo, and we all have to work together to make the best of what's true in our lives."



His face was cold with his anger. I hated his face like this, because it was both frightening and more beautiful, as if the anger cleaned away something that distracted the eye from realizing just how amazingly handsome he was. "And what is true in our lives?" His power began to flow through the room, hot water, hotter than you'd want in the bath. The guards around the room shifted uneasily.



"I am Jean-Claude's human servant. You are his animal to call. We are a triumvirate of power. We can't change that. Jean-Claude and I both carry the ardeur. We both need to feed the hunger, and that's not going to change."



"I thought you were hoping to be able to feed from a distance at the clubs, the way Jean-Claude did under Nikolaos."



"It crippled his power, which is what the ex-Master of the City wanted to do. I'm not going to cripple us magically because I'm squeamish. No more hiding, Richard. The ardeur is here to stay, and I need to feed it."



He shook his head. "No."



"No, what?"



He let down his shields. I don't know if it was on purpose, or his emotions got the better of him. Whatever the cause I suddenly heard his thoughts like clear bells in my head: he thought that once I got the ardeur under control I'd dump Micah and Nathaniel and live with him. Be with him. He still hoped, seriously, that some day we'd be a nice little monogamous pair.



It took only seconds for me to get all of it, but his shields coming down had brought mine down, too, and he felt my shock. My disbelief that he still thought, seriously, that that would ever happen.



I felt the next thought forming, and tried to stop it, tried to keep it half-formed, or to shut him out, but the emotions were too raw, and I wasn't fast enough. The thought was, Even if I am pregnant, it would never work.



Richard's face showed the shock now. He gaped at me, and whispered, "Pregnant."



I said the only thing that came to mind. "Fuck."