Danse Macabre

25



I WENT TO the bathroom for a few minutes and came back out to find that Jean-Claude wasn't the only vampire in the bedroom. Elinore stood near the bed. She was dressed in a white gown with a high lacy collar and a cream robe that managed to look graceful, and not like jammies at all. Her long blond hair fell in a pale wave around her body, like a second robe, so long. She was a vision in pale delicate colors, then she looked at me. Her eyes were a pale icy blue, the wrong color of blue for that delicate face. Her face was a near-perfect oval, dainty and unreal, as if someone had carved her from some white, pure rock, and breathed life into her. Unless she worked at it, hers was a cold beauty. If her eyes had been a brighter blue, I think it would have made her look warmer. The eyes gave the lie to the rest of her. The eyes were serious, careful, watchful. Hidden under all those clothes was a round, curvy body, soft. She didn't believe in weight lifting, too unladylike. But she had a body that was as lovely and desirable as the face, if a little soft for my tastes. She had the blond Nordic beauty that I'd craved as a child. Craved so I'd fit in with my blond, blue-eyed father and his new family.



I'd tried to hate her, just on principle. I'd failed, why? Under that ladylike exterior she was tough, fair, and harder than a box of nails. She just hid it much better than I did. We got along. Besides, all the male vamps were prettier than me, why shouldn't some of the female vamps be prettier, too?



"Elinore," I said, "what..." I checked my wristwatch. "What are you doing awake before noon?"



"That is what I was asking Jean-Claude," she said in that silky voice that matched all the lace and cream satin.



Jean-Claude looked at me from where he sat on the edge of the bed. He was in his black brocade robe with all the fur on it. They looked like opposite ends of a dream; one so pale, the other so dark.



"All our people have gained from what we did last night, ma petite." He motioned toward Elinore. "This is proof of just how much they may have gained."



I started walking around the end of the bed toward them. "Is this the earliest you've woken as a vampire?"



She nodded.



"How do you feel?" I asked.



She seemed to take the question seriously. She screwed that pretty little face up in a look of concentration. I was never sure if Elinore really had that many cute mannerisms or whether she'd spent so many centuries using them as camouflage that she couldn't get rid of them now. Whatever, she was always doing things that made me think, little girl, doll-like, cute. Until she decided not to be cute; then she was positively frightening. I wondered how many enemies had been lured in by that softness only to find the steel dagger inside all that silk. If I'd been willing to play to my packaging, I might have pulled it off, but it just wasn't in me to try.



"I feel fine," she said at last.



"Have you fed?" I asked.



"Can you not tell?" she asked, giving me a very direct blue gaze.



"You always look a little ethereal to me, so no. I can't tell with you."



She gave a small smile. "Quite a compliment that the Executioner cannot tell whether I've fed."



"Do you feel the thirst?" Jean-Claude asked.



She thought about that for a second, making the pretty little face. "No. I could feed, but I do not have to."



I felt a stab of triumph from Jean-Claude. Triumph, and right on its heels, fear. Then he closed the leak in his shields tight.



"Why afraid? Why triumphant? Why both?" I asked.



"Jean-Claude fed the ardeur well and truly last night, and it is sustaining me. That is very impressive," Elinore said.



"Yeah, I get that, but..." I tried to think how to form the question. "Why are you both so pleased?"



"If we wished to travel as a group in countries where we are illegal, only one of us would need to feed. It would mean Jean-Claude could take quite a large group of his own vampires into another territory without leaving much evidence behind. Certainly we could hide from the human authorities."



"But we're not going to invade anyone's territory."



"No," Jean-Claude said, "but it is always good to have options, ma petite.'"



"Where's your sweetie? Your knight?"



"He did not wake with me," and there was just a hint of sadness to that.



"So are you the only one who gained--" There was a knock on the door.



"Yes, Remus," Jean-Claude called.



Remus opened the door and closed it behind him. "Requiem is out here."



"Requiem," Elinore said, "interesting."



"Send him in, Remus," Jean-Claude said.



He held Jean-Claude's gaze for a moment, then looked down, and did his talking to the side of the face. "All right, but if anyone else shows up early like this, I will have to insist that you let two of the guards inside the room. So whatever secret shit you're discussing, discuss fast."



"You really think there's going to be that many more vamps waking up this early?" I asked.



"Yeah, I think there will be."



"We will discuss whether guards come back inside when someone else comes to my door," Jean-Claude said. "Let Requiem pass, Remus."



Remus's face struggled; he didn't like it. "I am caught between masters here. Claudia says don't leave you guys alone. You say I can't stay. We need a chain of command here."



"Too many generals," I said.



He gave me a quick, direct glance. "Yes."



"I am sorry, Remus," Jean-Claude said, "but Elinore's arrival has changed things."



"Fine, but Requiem is the last, or I'm calling Claudia and telling her I can't guard you, because you won't let me."



"As you see fit, Remus."



He gave another angry look around the room, then opened the door. A moment later Requiem glided through the door. He had his black, hooded cloak close around his body, so that the only thing that showed was the spill of his Vandyke beard framing the curve of his lips.



"How badly are you hurt, mon ami?" Jean-Claude asked.



Requiem shrugged back the hood without using his hands, the way you'd flip long hair behind your back. The hood slid down and the right side of his face was a mass of deep-purple bruises. One of his eyes was almost swollen shut, just a glimpse of that startling bright blue that had made Belle Morte try to buy Requiem from his original master. Belle had wanted to have a matching set of blue-eyed men. Asher's were the palest blue; Jean-Claude's the darkest; Requiem's the brightest. His master had refused, and they had fled France.



His long, straight hair, so dark it mingled with the black cloak, made his pale skin all the paler, and helped the bruises stand out like purple ink on his face.



"Wow," I said, "how much blood are you using to heal that?"



He looked at me then, and the look on his face said, clearly, I'd said something smart. "Much."



"How fares the rest?" Jean-Claude asked.



Requiem spread the cloak wide with a gesture of both arms, so that it was like a curtain spilled dramatically around his body. His upper body shone like white flame against the darkness. My eyes adjusted to all that contrast and I realized that some of the whiteness was bandages. His right arm, chest, and stomach were all thick with gauze and white tape.



"Jesus, did Meng Die really do all that?"



"Yes." He said that, and no more. Requiem rarely gave just a one-word answer to anything. He came toward us, the cloak flying out behind him, which said he was moving faster than that gliding walk appeared.



"Ma petite, if you could fetch scissors from the bathroom drawer, we can look at his wounds."



I did it without being asked. I'd noticed the bruises last night, but hadn't seen all the bandages under his shirt. I had had no idea how hurt he was. I hesitated in the bathroom with the scissors in my hand. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked sort of startled. Had he really dumped Meng Die because of me? Dumped another woman on the off chance that I might take him as a pomme de sang? I stared at myself in the mirror and just didn't see a woman who could make a man dump someone on the possibility of sex. Elinore, maybe, but me... I just didn't think so.



I went back to the other room, and found Requiem sitting on the bed beside Jean-Claude, who was turning his face to the light, checking his bruises.



Requiem was talking as I entered. "... she said, if she could not have my pretty face on her pillow, then no one would have it."



Someone had brought one of the chairs by the fireplace so Elinore could sit and not be on the bed. "So she tried to ruin your face," she said, softly.



"Yes," he said, in that strangely clipped voice that wasn't at all his usual.



I held the scissors out to Jean-Claude. He took them and laid them on the bedside table. "I think perhaps we can take off the tape, if you will help me, ma petite?"



I had to move Requiem's cloak where he'd draped it on the end of the bed. The bed was tall enough that I had to make certain I was sitting far enough back from the edge so I wouldn't slide off. Silk coverlet, silk robe, makes for slippery. I took Requiem's hand in mine. The bandages wrapped around his hand, and up nearly to the elbow. "You didn't get this from her hitting you," I said.



"She had a blade," he said, and again, his voice was clipped and to the point.



I looked up at him, and even the uninjured half of his face showed me nothing. He was lovely and empty like Jean-Claude was sometimes. Like looking at a painting of some handsome prince come back from battle. Even as I cradled his arm in my hands, he was as distant and remote as if he'd been hanging on a museum wall.



Jean-Claude was already peeling tape from around Requiem's chest. I bent over his arm and worked on the tape there, holding his hand in mine while I started unwinding the gauze. His hand was crisscrossed with shallow and not-so-shallow slashes. I raised his hand as gently as I could, so I could keep unwrapping. The bandages fell away and I made a sound; I couldn't help it. I put my hand at his hand and elbow, and lifted, gently. His forearm was a mass of slashing wounds. Two of them needed stitches.



I looked at his face, and he met my eyes, and for an instant there was a flash of anger in those eyes; then it went back to being empty.



"These are defensive wounds. You held your arm up in front of your face, because that's what she was going for."



"Not entirely, ma petite." Jean-Claude's voice drew me back to him, and Requiem's now bare chest. I let out a hiss of breath, because he was right. His pale, muscular chest didn't have as many wounds as his arm, but the ones he did have were deeper.



I traced the one under the sternum. It was deep, and I could see the mark of the blade in his flesh. I looked up at him, and it must have shown on my face.



"So shocked, Anita, why?"



"She was trying for your heart. She was really trying to kill you."



"I told you that last night, ma petite."



"I know you said she was trying to kill him, but..." I traced my fingers just above another wound that went between his ribs. The stab wounds were well placed. She'd tried to hack his face, and the marks on the arm showed that she just wanted damage, but the wounds on his chest and stomach, they were kills. "She knew just where to place the blade." My respect for Meng Die went up, and so did my fear. "And she did all this where the customers could see?"



"Not all of it," Requiem said, "but much of it, yes."



I looked at Jean-Claude. "And no one called the cops?"



He had the grace to look away, not embarrassed, but... "What did you do?" I asked.



"Mass hypnosis is not illegal, ma petite, only personal hypnotism."



"You bespelled the crowd," I said.



"I, and Asher."



I laid my hand above the wound that looked like it had come closest to his heart. I had a bad thought. "You said she attacked Asher. Is he this hurt?"



"No."



"I think she knew that you and Jean-Claude would kill her if she slew Asher. I think she believed I was of less value to you." Again his voice was empty, but the very emptiness of it made me look at him.



"That sounded bitter," I said.



He looked away from me, a small smile on his face. "I meant it to sound like nothing."



"I've listened to a lot of empty vampire voices, and there's flavor even to the emptiness."



"I was a fool to tell her in a public place, but she pressed me, asked me, and I told the truth." He looked at me then, and I had to fight to meet his gaze, not because of vampire powers, but because the bruises looked painful, and I knew somehow, weirdly, they were my fault.



"Did you really tell Meng Die that you dumped her because you thought I'd turned you down because of her?"



"Not in those words, but yes."



I sighed, and shook my head. "Oh, Requiem. I mean I didn't think she'd take it this badly"--I motioned at some of his injuries--"but her pride wouldn't let her take it lying down."



"Pride," he nodded, then stopped in midmotion as if it had hurt. "She has much pride, and I seem to have none." He looked at me, and emotion filled his eyes, his face, and the emotion was too strong for me to keep looking into his face.



"Don't," I whispered.



He slid to the ground, went to his knees. He made a small involuntary sound. It must have hurt. He took my hand, and I let him, because pulling away seemed petty. "What must I do to be in your bed, Anita? Tell me, and I will do it."



I looked into his face, saw the pain there, and it wasn't the pain of bruises and cuts. I looked at Jean-Claude. "It's the ardeur, isn't it?"



"I fear so," he said.



I turned back to the vampire kneeling in front of me. I had no idea what to say.



"Am I ugly to you?" he asked.



"No," and I traced the line of his uninjured cheek. "You are very handsome, and you know it."



He shook his head, stopped in midmotion, again as if it hurt. "If I were handsome enough, you would have taken me to your bed and not turned to these strangers." He lowered his head, both hands gripping mine. He finally raised his face, and he was crying. "Please, Anita, please, do not cast me aside so easily. I know that you did not enjoy the attentions I gave you as much as I enjoyed the touch of your body. But I will be better, I swear it, if only you will give me another chance to show you pleasure. I was trying to be too careful of you. I did not understand. I can do better, be better." He buried his face against my legs, and wept.



"I believe we have our answer, ma petite."



I stroked Requiem's hair, and didn't know what he was talking about. I was too stunned to think. "Answer to what?" I asked.



"The effect you have on vampires that have tasted the ardeur before. I think you are addictive, as Belle was addictive." He motioned toward Requiem, who was clutching at me, still weeping into my legs. "He is powerful enough to be a Master of a City, ma petite, not powerful in the way of Augustine, or myself, but powerful. He lacks not power, but ambition. He does not wish to rule."



"There is no shame to that," Elinore said.



"Non," Jean-Claude said, "but I want ma petite to understand that her effect on Requiem is not a small thing."



Elinore had sat back in the chair, curling her legs under her, because her feet wouldn't have reached the ground. "I had no idea she had bespelled him like this."



"I didn't bespell him," I said.



She gave me a look and motioned at the vampire at my feet. "Pick a different word if you like, Anita, but the effect is the same. We can argue semantics, but Requiem is besotted with you in a way most unnatural."



I stroked his hair, so straight and thick, but not warm. He was cool to the touch. "He needs to feed," I said. "Healing is going to take a lot of blood and energy."



"I don't think blood will cure this," Elinore said, and her voice sounded almost accusatory.



"What do you want from me, Elinore? What do you want me to do?"



"Make him your lover," she said.



"I have four men that I'm the only sex they're getting, and two more that are in my bed some of the time. Hell, Jason makes it into my bed about once a month."



"Exactly," Elinore said, "one more will hardly make a difference."



"If it were just sex, maybe, but it's not just sex. It's the emotional stuff. I don't even know if there's enough of me to go around for five men, plus extras. Call me crazy, but I don't think Requiem is a low-needs item." I stroked his hair, felt him shake against my legs. "No, I think he definitely goes in the high-maintenance category. I don't think I have enough emotion left to do another high-needs man, okay? That's the truth. I'm sure he'd be a wonderful lover, but I couldn't meet his other needs."



"What other needs?" she asked.



"Talk, emotion, sharing, love."



Elinore shifted in her chair, turning her head to one side, her long hair spilling around her like a cornsilk dream. "You turned him down as your lover because you don't think you can love him?"



I thought about it for a heartbeat, then shrugged, and nodded. "Yeah, sort of."



Elinore looked at Jean-Claude. "She turned him down because she does not think she could love him."



Jean-Claude gave that graceful shrug. "She is very young."



"Don't talk about me like I'm not sitting here," I said.



Requiem's crying had slowed, so that he was mostly just kneeling with his head in my lap. I kept petting his hair, the way you'd soothe a dog, or a sick child.



"We all understand, Anita, that you are Jean-Claude's consort. We all understand that you and he and Asher are a threesome. We all understand that your triumvirate with the Ulfric and Jean-Claude must be maintained for reasons of power and safety. That maintenance includes sex, because he is of Belle Morte's line. I admit that I thought him a fool, and weak, to have allowed you such closeness with the wereleopards, but I was wrong. Out of that closeness came your own triumvirate, which has strengthened Jean-Claude's powers immensely. Your tie to Damian and Nathaniel is a wondrous thing. Your tie to Micah is a puzzlement, but I understand now that your powers are much like Belle's. She collected men, too."



"I am not like Belle Morte," I said.



"Your power is." She pointed at Requiem. "This is proof of that."



"I don't want to collect men," I said. I stared down at the man in my lap. "I certainly don't want them this... besotted. This a level of wanting that's just wrong."



"Why is it wrong?" Elinore asked.



"Because I don't think he has a choice about it. I didn't mean to collect Requiem."



He looked up then, as if my saying his name had called him. The tears had dried to faint reddish lines on his face. The red didn't help the bruises look any better.



I touched the unhurt side of his face, and he laid his cheek in my hand, as if that one touch were something wonderful. "How do I fix this?" I asked.



"You mean how do you set him free?" Elinore asked.



"Yes."



"You don't."



I stared at her. "What do you mean, I don't?"



"There is no cure, Anita. There is only going far away from you. He will still crave your touch, but he will not be able to act upon it."



"Like an alcoholic," I said.



She nodded. "Yes."



"There is a cure for it," Jean-Claude said.



I looked at him. "What?"



"Love," he said, "true love."



We both stared at him. "True love," Elinore said.



He nodded. "We loved Julianna, and she freed us of the addiction of Belle Morte. Belle Morte had Requiem in her bed before Ligeia ever touched him, but she sent Requiem on a long seduction far away from her. It was necessary to seduce both halves of a noble couple, so she sent Ligeia with him."



"I thought that Requiem's master fled France so Belle wouldn't keep him."



"His master met with an accident, and Belle was able to collect all the vampires of her line that the old master had made."



"The way you say accident makes it sound like you don't mean accident at all," I said.



"It was an accident," Requiem said, softly. He spoke with his face in my lap. "The carriage we were in overturned in a storm. We were on a cliff edge, and somewhere during the fall, a piece of wood went through his heart. It was such an ordinary death." His voice sounded relaxed, distant. "We tried removing the wood, but he did not revive. We learned later that the carriage maker was Wellsley."



"Who's Wellsley?" I asked.



Elinore answered, "He manufactured carriages in London for many years. He was a devout man, and hated the idea of his carriages being used for evil purposes, so he had them blessed. He would make a batch of them and have one of the local clergy bless them. When the blessing is fresh, some of them glow around us."



"The blessing wears off?" I made it a question.



"If enough 'evil' "--and she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers--"happens in the carriage."



"Like a cemetery that's been out of use for a while, or had black magic used in it too much," I said. "You have to reconsecrate the ground."



"The analogy will do," she said.



I looked down at Requiem. "And when your master was dead, Belle could call you to her?"



"Yes," he said, "and if Jean-Claude had not given me a home here, she would have done so again."



"How did you get away from her the second time?"



"Jean-Claude has the right of it. Ligeia and I were sent far away to seduce some nobles Belle wished to control. We did her bidding, and they did what Belle wished, but Ligeia and I fell in love with each other. When we returned to Belle's court, I was no longer drawn to her."



"Love," Jean-Claude said, "love is the only cure."



"You and Asher aren't besotted with me, not like this."



"Jean-Claude is your master, and he holds the ardeur as well. As for Asher"--she looked at Jean-Claude--"I think love protects him."



I looked at Jean-Claude, too, and he would not meet our gaze. I sort of assumed now that Jean-Claude and Asher were doing it like bunnies when I wasn't around, but I'd never asked. Don't ask, don't tell worked just fine for me. Last night, seeing him with Auggie, made me wonder if I needed to ask, or if it was confirmed. Too complicated for me.



I literally waved the thought away, and said, "I can't count on Requiem falling in love any time soon."



"Non, ma petite."



"What do I do?"



"Take him as your lover," Elinore said.



"Easy for you to say; no one's making you share yourself with anyone but your knight."



"And one of the reasons I came to Jean-Claude was that he would let me be with the man I love, and not force me into the beds of others. I am more grateful for that than I can ever say." She turned those cold blue eyes on me. "But I do not carry the ardeur. I am not an addiction."



"Ma petite, you must meet this obligation."



I stared at him. "Obligation?"



"You have addicted him to you. Would you be as cruel as Belle Morte herself and cast him away, with this desire riding him?" He shuddered. "I have been as one addicted, and cast out for some minor infraction. I have felt my body ache for want of her, and no amount of sex with anyone else satisfied that need." He moved so he could lay his hand over mine where I stroked Requiem's hair. "He is my third-in-command. He is a good and honorable man. You need more and more powerful food, ma petite. I think if you feed the ardeur well enough, it will quiet. But until you find food to its liking, it will seek its own."



"You want me to sleep with Requiem?"



"I want you to feed the ardeur from him, oui."



"I thought you weren't happy sharing me with so many men. I mean, you once threatened to kill Richard."



"I did not understand the nature of our power together then. Perhaps there is more than one reason that Belle collected lovers. Perhaps it was not merely her appetite, but more practical."



I stared at him, feeling the weight of his hand over mine, and Requiem gone very still under our hands. "I can't meet all his needs, Jean-Claude. I can't add another date to my card."



"It is not a date he needs, ma petite. He needs to be your food. Food is for eating, not for dating."



"Yeah, that's what I said about Nathaniel for months. It doesn't work like that, not for me."



"What do you propose, ma petite? Until we know the extent of your power over other vampires, we must be very careful of our visitors. We must surround you with powerful enough food that the ardeur will not keep drawing more."



"Why isn't your ardeur drawing in people?"



"You are his human servant," Elinore said, "you're taking some of the edge off his power."



"What does that mean?" I asked.



"If Jean-Claude didn't have you, then his ardeur would be doing this, and it would make it hard to run his territory. Your attracting people is less distracting to him."



I looked at him. "Are you doing this on purpose?"



"I swear that I am not."



"It's the nature of the power, Anita," Elinore said. "Human servants, animals to call, pommes de sang, they are all instruments to help their masters grow in power and control. The power will find a place to go and feed that allows the Master of the City to rule better."



"You make the power sound alive, like it can think for itself," I said.



She shrugged. "Perhaps it can. I know that I have seen the power work like this with other masters. Not the ardeur, but other powers."



I sighed. "Great, so I'm the ardeur's pinup girl because Jean-Claude would get too distracted if it were him."



"Yes," she said.



"Wait, Belle had the full ardeur, more full than we have now."



"But she had no human servant, and no animal to call," Elinore said.



I looked at Jean-Claude. "I thought every master called in help."



"Belle does not share power," Jean-Claude said, "not with anyone."



"But you guys gain a lot of power from human servants and animals to call."



"She has intimates of her animals to call, but she has not chosen among them. She makes no one special to her," he said.



"I don't seem to be able to choose who I get as animal to call. I know you chose Richard, but I didn't exactly choose Nathaniel."



"Nor Haven," Jean-Claude said.



"Haven is not my animal to call," I said.



"But some lion will be, and soon, I fear," Jean-Claude said. "Joseph is bringing some of his lionmen around today so you will have more than our guests to choose from."



"Choose for what?" and I sounded as suspicious as I felt.



"So you may bring their beasts, and hold off the change."



That made sense. So many metaphysical problems that it was hard to keep track sometimes. But one problem at a time. I looked at the man in my lap.



"Fine, whatever. What am I going to do with you, Requiem?"



Jean-Claude and I moved our hands, and he raised his face, so he could look at me. "Make me your pomme de sang."



"I think the pomme de sang needs to be someone who can feed me night or day," I said.



His face filled with panic. "Please, Anita, do not cast me aside."



I looked at Jean-Claude. "A little help here."



"If you will not feed the ardeur from him then we must send him to another territory. He is powerful enough that many will want him as third, or even second."



"Which will weaken your power base, because Elinore is only staying until we find her her own territory," I said.



He gave a shrug that meant everything and nothing.



"I cannot believe that my"--and I hesitated because boyfriend seemed too junior high, lover not enough--"the man I love is encouraging me to take another lover."



He smiled at me. "We know now that any who have tasted Belle's ardeur are susceptible to your ardeur. I think any of her line will be too risky to taste as pommes. Agree to feed the ardeur from Requiem, ma petite, that is all. Agree, because we have two more things to know before the party tonight."



"What two things?"



"Will you draw and be drawn to all leopards, wolves, and lions? Do the ardeur's effects travel outside Belle's line?"



I looked at Jean-Claude, tried to read past his face. "You're still shielding so hard, I can't tell how you really feel about this. Let me see inside your shields."



He shook his head. "I think it would be no help to you."



"Why not?"



"Because part of me is happy our powers are growing, no matter what the cost. Part of me is frightened of what the council may do about it. Do I want you to take another lover? No, but do I prefer that it is you whom the ardeur hunts to this degree, and not me, yes. I am sorry, ma petite, but that is the truth."



I thought about it, then nodded. "If you have a human servant who can't hold her shit together the other masters may forgive you. Like a bad marriage, not your fault. If you can't hold your shit together, they won't let that pass."



"Please, Anita," Requiem said, "please, feed the ardeur upon me, please."



"I will."



The look on his face was amazing, so joyous even through all the bruises. The look scared me. No one but your nearest and dearest should ever look at you like that.



"But not right now," I said.



Some of the joy faded. "Why not now? It is morning. You have slept."



I nodded. "Yeah, usually that does raise the ardeur." I looked at Jean-Claude. "That's a good question, why don't I feel all ardeurish?"



"I, too, am well fed."



"You feasted last night," Requiem said, "on Augustine and his people."



I looked back at Jean-Claude. "Is he right? Was it such a powerful meal that we're safe for longer?"



"Perhaps."



"You don't sound convinced."



"The ardeur is not always a predictable power, ma petite. I would need more than one feeding of such magnitude before I agreed that that was the reason."



"Or perhaps," Elinore said, "you should be trying to figure out how powerful a meal you would need to abate the ardeur. You cannot feast on another Master of the City and his people every night." She leaned forward in her chair, all lace and satin, but strangely, she didn't look cute. She looked too intent for words like cute. "Perhaps what is needed is permanent food of high power."



"Few masters would agree to become Anita's, or my, permanent pomme de sang. Not if they are powerful enough to rule a territory of their own."



"What if they have no choice in the matter?" she said, indicating Requiem.



"Are you suggesting that I purposefully trap other masters the way I accidentally trapped Requiem?" I asked.



"It would solve a great many problems," she said.



"It would be"--I groped for a word--"evil."



"I thought you were more pragmatic than this, Anita."



"Doing that would be no different than if we gave in to the requests we get weekly for you to join some other master's kiss, as his mistress. We give you room to choose, Elinore. How can you ask us to take that same choice away from someone else?"



"I would not be bespelled, Anita. I would know every night as he touched me, lay on top of me, that I hated him. Requiem adores you, and he will adore you until, and if, he falls in love, true love. Until that time he will be in the bed of someone he adores, having amazing sex, and enjoying every minute of it. It is not the same thing, Anita. Trust me on that."



"But it's sort of a metaphysical date-rape drug, used like that. Just because you're enjoying the abuse doesn't make it not abuse."



"Does it not, ma petite?"



I shook my head. "It's too late for Requiem, I'll accept that. I'll try feeding the ardeur on him."



He kissed my hand. "Thank you, mistress."



"Not mistress," I said, "Anita, just Anita."



"Thank you, Anita," he said, and kissed my hand again.



"Get up off the floor, Requiem, please."



He stood. "I would like very much to sit beside you."



I sighed, and nodded.



He sat on the other side of me from Jean-Claude, except that he sat close enough that his legs touched me. Great, just creepy, great.



I looked at his chest where the blades had come so close to taking his life. "What are we going to do about Meng Die? She's just proven herself too dangerous, and so not a team player."



"Kill her," Elinore said.



I looked at Jean-Claude.



"I would rather find another solution, but yes, it may come to that."



"You are overly sentimental, Jean-Claude, just because you feel guilty that you stole her mortal life. It is a great gift, not a curse."



"I feel as I feel, Elinore."



"Have a care that your feelings do not get us all killed." She looked at me. "Also, I think if Anita truly is going to be a panwere..."



"News travels fast," I said, looking at Jean-Claude.



"I wished an opinion of someone powerful enough to have an opinion."



I wanted to argue, but I couldn't. She was the most powerful vamp in his group right now. Her waking first had proven that.



"As I was saying, if Anita is truly going to be a panwere, then it may not simply be lions, wolves, and leopards that she attracts. It may be all wereanimals, or many. Almost all the visiting masters have brought their animal to call, so we must test this theory before she is allowed near them. Augustine I believe will let the insult go, because he is besotted with you both, and he attacked you first. The breach of protocol was on his side, not ours. But if Anita entices others away from their masters, they may not be so forgiving."



"Agreed," Jean-Claude said, "and we still must see how master vampires outside Belle's bloodline react to Anita's ardeur."



"And where are we going to get master-level vamps and other wereanimals to test these little theories on?" I asked.



There was a knock on the door. "It's Remus, Jean-Claude."



"Enter."



Remus entered, closing the door behind him. He was actually looking directly at us, and he was angry, which I guess explained the direct look. "I told you if there were any more that I wouldn't let them in without me and my guards coming in here."



"I remember," Jean-Claude said.



"I said any other vampire, but definitely these two are not coming in here without you having bodyguards on this side of the door."



"What two?" I asked.



"Wicked and Truth are out here," Remus said.



"Wicked and Truth," Elinore said, "how interesting. They are very powerful, and they are not of Belle's line."



I shook my head. "Truth already got a taste of the ardeur when I bound him to Jean-Claude. He's not following me around like this." I jerked my thumb at Requiem.



"Did you actually feed from Truth?" she asked.



"No," I said.



"Then you must try."



"No," I said.



"At least suggest it to them," she said.



"No," I said, and put more heat into the word.



"They have sworn loyalty to Jean-Claude. They are not leaving us," Elinore said.



"No," I said, "absolutely no."



"Very well, then perhaps not feed, but watch you feed," Jean-Claude said.



"What does that mean?" I asked.



"Samuel watched you feed and was not drawn to you, or me, that strongly. But Haven was drawn so that his companions had to drag him away, almost as they did Augustine. Perhaps if Wicked and Truth are simply in the room when you feed, that would tell us if the effect will go outside Belle's line, or no."



"We would need someone from Belle's line to be in the room too, someone close in power." I looked at Elinore.



She smiled, "I am in love, Anita, true love. It does not work on me."



"Some types of ardeur work anyway," I said.



"For a brief time, yes, but my being in love makes me unusable for the test."



There was another knock on the door. Remus opened it, murmured to someone, then turned back. He didn't look directly at us again. "London is out here, too. He's Belle Morte's line, isn't he?"



"Yes," Elinore said, "he is."



"So what, I feed the ardeur, and then they tell us how attracted they are to it?"



"It is a way of testing without impinging too far upon your morals," Elinore said.



"Just have sex in a room while a bunch of men watch, right?"



Jean-Claude shook his head and smiled. "Simply feed the ardeur, ma petite. It does not have to be sex, if you do not wish it."



"It seems a shame to raise the ardeur on purpose when I'm not hungry," I said.



He sighed. "Yes, it does, but it is far better to raise it now, when we can control it, than later, when visitors have arrived, and we cannot."



Put that way, it made sense, but... "Who do I feed from?" I asked.



He gestured to Requiem. "The damage is already done to him."



"Great, now I'm damage," I said.



"And feeding from blood as powerful as yours will help him speed his healing."



That was true, but... "Fine, but only if you explain the parameters of the experiment to everyone. They have to agree to it, or I won't do it."



"Of course, ma petite, I would not have it any other way." I looked into that beautiful, unreadable face, and was almost a hundred percent certain he was lying.