Anita Blake - The Harlequin Part 7

Lisandro frowned, then said, "I think Joseph was wrong when he forced you to send the werelion Haven back to Chicago. Joseph keeps trying to feed you his weak-a.s.sed pride of lions, and they aren't any better than Nathaniel. No offense, even Joseph's brother, Justin, isn't that much stronger."

It had taken me a moment to remember who Haven was, because I still thought of him as Cookie Monster. He'd had hair dyed that color of blue, and had sported several Sesame Street tattoos. Haven was also an enforcer for the Master Vampire of Chicago. Haven had helped me handle the lion part of my metaphysical problem, but he'd also picked fights with three of the local werelions, including Joseph, their Rex, their leader. Haven and Richard had had a fight. Richard had kicked his a.s.s, proving that Richard could be d.a.m.ned useful when he wanted to be. But also proving that Haven was way too much trouble to keep around.

"You guys all explained to me how lion society works. If someone that tough, and that powerful, had moved into town, they would have felt compelled to take over the local werelions. The first thing most takeovers do is slaughter most of the pride."

"I think you could control him."

"You saw him, Lisandro, please. He's a thug, a professional thug, with a prison record."

Lisandro nodded. "I've got a record, too, juvie, but some bad stuff on it. My wife straightened me out. I think you could do the same for him."

"What, a good woman is all a bad boy needs to straighten his life out?" "If the woman has something that the man wants bad enough, yeah."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means I saw the way he looked at you. I smelled what effect the two of you had on each other. The only reason you didn't have s.e.x was that your head overruled the rest of you." "You know, Lisandro, I liked you better when you didn't talk this much."

"I've seen Haven's record. He doesn't have anything on his sheet that I ain't got on mine."

That made me give him the long blink. Because I hadn't known that about him. "That would make you a very dangerous man," I said, my voice low and even.

"You've killed more people than I have."

"This conversation is over, Lisandro."

"If not Haven, then can Rafael put out feelers for some better lion candidates? Joseph is so scared that some big bad lion will come and eat his weak-a.s.sed pride that he won't ever bring anyone to town who will do the job for you."

I started to say no, but Nathaniel squeezed my arm. "Rafael is a good leader." "He can't interview for new lions. He can bring in new rats, but it's not his place to bring in new lions," I said.

"Lisandro is right on one thing, Anita. Joseph is scared. Everyone he's thrown at you in the last few weeks has been wimpy-not just weak in power, but innocent. Your life doesn't have room for innocents."

I stared into those lavender eyes and didn't like what I saw. I was seven years older, but he'd seen as much violence as I had, or more. He'd seen what our fellow human beings could do, up close and personal. I'd solved crimes of violence, but mostly I hadn't been the victim. He'd been on the streets alone before he hit ten. Nathaniel was weak in some ways that Lisandro counted, but he was stronger than me in ways that most people wouldn't understand. He'd survived things that would have destroyed most people.

He let me see in his face what he usually hid, that I was the innocent. That no matter how many people I killed in the line of duty, I'd never really know what he knew.

"Do you think I was wrong to make Haven go back to Chicago?"

"No, he scared me, but you need a werelion, and they need to know the score." "What does that mean?" I asked. "Two of the lions he sent you were virgins," Nathaniel said. "You're a succubus, Anita. You don't give virgins over to something like that."

"You have to have had bad s.e.x to appreciate really good s.e.x," Lisandro said.

Nathaniel nodded. "That, too, but what I meant was that we haven't met a lion yet who we didn't all think was weak." He looked at the tall guard by the door. "Some of them were tough in a normal-world sort of way, but we all live in a world where guns, and s.e.x, and violence of all kinds can happen and do. We need someone who doesn't make us all feel like we're corrupting children."

We both looked at Nathaniel.

"What?" he said.

"Is that how you really felt about all of them, even Justin?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Justin's idea of violence is the kind that has referees, and limits. The fact that he's Joseph's enforcer is scary for them." "Joseph's better in a fight," Lisandro said. "But neither of them is as good as Richard, or Rafael." "Or your Micah?" Lisandro asked. "I think Micah would do anything it took to keep his people safe." "I heard that about him," Lisandro said. Since we were talking about one of my other live-in sweeties, I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Micah and I were both very practical people. Sometimes practical and ruthless were just different words for the same thing.

"You're both saying that you don't think Joseph would do whatever it took."

"The only thing that's kept his pride safe is the fact that there just aren't a lot of werelions in this country. Cat-based lycanthropy is usually harder to catch than other kinds," Lisandro said.

"Reptile-based is harder to catch," Nathaniel said. Lisandro nodded. "True, but there aren't a lot of lions in this country. The closest is Chicago." "They won't be trying a takeover. Jean-Claude and I made sure of that," I said. "But don't you see, Anita, you and Jean-Claude made sure of it, not Joseph. That makes his threat weak," Lisandro said.

"n.o.body from Chicago will mess with them now," I said.

"Yeah, but if Chicago noticed they're this weak, then so will some one else."

"I didn't know we had any big prides other than these two."

"One on the West Coast, one on the East," Lisandro said.

"Is that where Joseph got his last candidate?" I asked.

"East Coast pride, yeah. But you turned him down, just like all the others." "I can't give your leader permission to shop for lions, Lisandro. It's against the rules to interfere that much over cross-species lines."

"Not for you," Lisandro said. "Remember, Joseph asked you not to keep Haven. The moment he asked you to protect him and his pride, he asked you to interfere. You're the leopards' Nimir-Ra, and the wolves' lupa; you were nothing to the lions. Once he asked for your help, he gave you permission to mess with his lions."

"I don't think Joseph saw it that way," I said. Lisandro shrugged. "Doesn't matter how he saw it, it's still the truth."

I don't know what I would have said to that, because there was a knock on the door. Lisandro went all bodyguardy on us. His hand went behind his back, and I knew for sure the gun was there. "Who is it?"

"Requiem. Jean-Claude requested my presence."

Lisandro glanced at me. I realized he was asking my permission. I liked him better for that. I didn't really want to see Requiem tonight. I was still embarra.s.sed that I'd added him to my list of food. But he'd been in England, so he'd seen the Harlequin in person, and recently. He'd be helpful. Or that's what I told myself as I nodded for Lisandro to let him in.

CHAPTER 7

REQUIEM GLIDED IN wearing a long, hooded cloak as black as his hair. He was the only vamp I'd ever met who wore a cloak like that.

Byron came behind him, carrying a towel that seemed to be full of something. He was still wearing nothing but his G-string. There was still money stuffed in it. He grinned at me. "Hi, duckie."

"Hey, Byron."

He always talked like he had just stepped out of an old British movie: lots of loves and duckies. He talked that way to everyone, so I didn't take it personally. He up-ended the towel on the couch beside me. It was suddenly raining money.

"Good night," Nathaniel said.

Byron nodded and started taking the money out of his G-string. "Jean-Claude used that sweet, sweet voice of his during my act. The pigeons always give it up for him." He slipped off the G-string, letting some bills flutter to the floor. I used to protest the nudity in front of me, but they were strippers, and after a while either you stopped being bothered by the casual nudity, or you didn't hang at the club. Nudity didn't mean to the dancers what it meant in the real world. Stripping is about the illusion that the customers can have them-the illusion of s.e.x, not the reality of it. It had taken me a while to understand that.

Byron used the towel to dry some of the sweat off his body. He winced, and turned to show b.l.o.o.d.y scratches high on one b.u.t.tock. "Got me from behind, just at the end of m' act." "Hit-and-run, or did she give you extra money for it?" Nathaniel asked.

"Hit-and-run."

I must have looked puzzled, because Nathaniel explained. "A hit-and-run is when a customer gets an extra grope, or scratch, or some thing intimate, and we don't know who did it, and they don't pay for it."

"Oh," I said, because I didn't know what else to say. I didn't like watching my boyfriends being groped by strangers. It was another reason I stayed away.

"'The evening star, love's harbinger, sits before me, and does not even waste a smile upon me.'" Requiem's greeting to me. It wasn't what he always said, but it was typical. He'd started calling me his "evening star."

"You know, I looked up the quote. It's John Milton's Paradise Lost. I'm not sure, but I think it's your very poetic way of complaining."

He glided in, making sure the cloak showed nothing but the long oval of his face, and even that was mostly hidden by the Vand.y.k.e-style beard and mustache. The only color on him was the swimming blue of his eyes: the richest, deepest, medium blue I'd ever seen.

"I know what I am to you, Anita."

"And that would be?" I said.

"I am food." He bent over me, and I turned my face so that the kiss he gave was on the cheek and not the mouth. He didn't fight me on it, but the kiss was empty and neutral, the kind of kiss you'd give your aunt. But I'd made certain it wouldn't be more. I'd turned away first, so why did it bug me that he'd just accepted the rebuff and not tried to make the kiss more? I didn't want him pursuing me harder than he was; I'd made that clear, so why did his just accepting the cheek bother me? G.o.d only knows, because I had no idea. I was mad at Nathaniel for demanding more of me, and irritated with Requiem for not demanding anything. Even in my own head I was confused.

He glided away to sink into the empty chair near the desk. He made sure the cloak covered him completely, only the tips of his black boots peeking out. "Why the frown, my evening star? I did exactly what you wished me to do, didn't I?"

I fought not to frown harder, and probably failed. "You bother me, Requiem."

"Why?" he asked, simply.

"Why, just why, no poetry?" I asked.

Nathaniel patted my shoulder, either reminding me he was there or trying to stop me from picking a fight. Either way, it worked, because I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I wasn't sure why Requiem got on my nerves lately, but he did. He was one of my lovers. He was food. But I didn't like it, any of it. He was wonderful in bed, but... there was always that feeling from him that no matter what I did it was never enough. Never what he wanted me to do. There was a constant, unspoken pres sure from him. I knew the feeling, but unless you were going to have a "relations.h.i.+p" with a man, it was a pressure you didn't deserve, or wouldn't respond to. He was food, and we were lovers; he was Jean-Claude's third-in-command. I'd tried to be his friend, but somehow the s.e.x had ruined that. I think without the s.e.x we could have been friends, but with it... with it we were neither friends, nor boyfriend or girlfriend. We were lovers, but... I had no words for what was wrong between us, but I could feel it, like an old ache in a wound you thought had healed.

"You told me you were tired of my 'constantly quoting poetry' to you. I'm practicing speaking simply." I nodded. "I remember, but... I feel like you're unhappy with me, and I don't know why." "You have allowed me into your bed. I share the ardeur once more.

What could any man desire above that?"

"Love," Nathaniel said.

Requiem looked past me to the other man. There was a flash of blue fire in the vampire's eyes: anger, power. Requiem hid it, but I'd seen it. We'd all seen it. "'Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?'" "I don't know who you're quoting," Nathaniel said, "but Anita doesn't love at first sight, or at least she didn't me."

"He's quoting from Hero and Leander by Christopher Marlowe," Byron said. The other vampire was counting the money he'd rained down on the couch. He had his back to the other vampire. "And what's bothering him is that he thinks he's wonderful, and he can't under stand why you don't love him."

"Do not tempt me, Byron. My anger seeks only a target," Requiem said.

Byron turned with his stacked and counted money in his hand. "I can resist anything but temptation," he said. He glanced at me. "He hates it when you quote back at him."

"Your tongue doth overstep your purpose, Byron," Requiem said, his voice purring low with warning.

"My purpose," Byron said, his gray eyes flas.h.i.+ng with a moment of s.h.i.+ning powerlike quiet lightning. He laid his money on the lacquered coffee table and turned to face the other vampire. "I want that glib and oily art, To speak and purpose not." He sat in Nathaniel's lap, putting his legs across my lap.

Nathaniel put an arm around him, almost automatically, and gave me a look. The look said, What's going on? but since I didn't know, I had no answers. It was like we'd stepped into a fight I hadn't known was happening. I had my hands in the air, above Byron's bare legs. I could ignore the nudity most of the time now, but not when that nudity was sitting in my boyfriend's lap and had flung itself across my legs. My ability to ignore just wasn't that good.

"What's going on?" I asked, my hands finally coming to light on Byron's bare legs, because I felt stupid keeping my hands in the air. If he'd been more on my lap than Nathaniel's I might have just dumped him on the floor, but whatever was happening he'd involved Nathaniel, too, and that meant I couldn't simply act. I had to think, too. Simply reacting was so much easier, not always in the long run, but in the short run, it felt so much better.

"Ask Byron," Requiem said. "I have no idea why he's acting like this."

I patted Byron's calf and said, "Why are you sitting in our laps?"

Byron wrapped his arms around Nathaniel's shoulders, cuddling his face next to his. He stared at me, giving me a look out of those gray eyes that made me fight off a s.h.i.+ver. Not a s.h.i.+ver of fear, but one that was all about s.e.x. Nathaniel looked faintly puzzled as their faces pressed next to each other. It was the blatant s.e.x look that made me slide out from under his legs and stand up. "I don't know what game this is, Byron, but Nathaniel and I don't want to play."

Byron slid off Nathaniel's lap and knelt on the far side of him, so that I could still see the two of them clearly. It was like he was doing serious flirting. Byron flirted, but not seriously, more like it was a casual hobby. There was nothing casual about the look on his face.

He slid his hand along Nathaniel's neck, then grabbed his braid. Grabbed it, and yanked Nathaniel's neck backward at a painful angle. Nathaniel's breath came in fast pants, his pulse visible like a trapped thing in his throat.

My gun was just in my hand. I didn't remember drawing it. I didn't remember aiming it. My own pulse was hammering in my throat. Years of practice had a gun pointed at Byron's face. He was staring at me, his gray eyes straight on, face still serious, but not threatening. I didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, someone was going to get hurt if it didn't stop.

"Let him go," I said, and my voice was as steady as the gun pointed at his forehead. I had a sense of Lisandro moving away from the door, coming toward us. I wasn't sure if I wanted the interference, or even if I needed it.

"He doesn't want me to let him go, do you, Nathaniel?" Byron's voice was very careful, even, as if he finally realized that his game could turn deadly.

Nathaniel's voice came strangled with the angle of his neck, and the force of the vampire's hand on his hair, but what he said was, "No, no, don't stop."

I finally let myself glance at Nathaniel. I didn't normally look away from someone I was pointing a gun at, but there was no sense of men ace to Byron. Whatever we were doing, I wasn't sure it was about violence. Nathaniel's hands were gripping Byron's arm, but not like he was trying to stop the vampire from hurting him, more like he was just holding on. But it was the look on Nathaniel's face that made me lower the gun to point at the floor.

Nathaniel's lips were half parted, his eyes fluttering closed, his face slack with pleasure. His body was tense with antic.i.p.ation. He was enjoying the pain, enjoying being manhandled. s.h.i.+t.

Byron let go of Nathaniel abruptly, almost with a throwaway gesture. Nathaniel fell back onto the couch, gasping for breath, his eyes rolled back into his head behind fluttering eyelids. His spine bowed, throwing his head back, making him writhe against the back of the couch.

Byron stood there and watched him. "Duckie, this much reaction, you have been neglecting your boy."

He was right. I'd have liked to argue it, but he was right. The proof of neglect was writhing on the couch in some sort of ecstasy that I couldn't even begin to understand. I liked a little force now and then, but it didn't do this for me. Nathaniel began to grow quiet, eyes still closed, and a smile on his face. I understood for the first time that the violence could be s.e.x for him, really, truly could.

I looked at Byron. "And your point?" I was pretty sure I knew what the point was, but I'd be d.a.m.ned if I'd help him make it.

"I heard rumors that you weren't doing dominance and submission with the boy, but I didn't believe it. I mean, how can you be with Nathaniel and not do BDSM? Bondage and submission is the boy's bread and b.u.t.ter."

I nodded, and put my gun up. "Do you know how close you came to getting yourself shot?" "I did once I saw your gun pointed at my face." The joking was gone again, so serious, and then he smiled. "So exciting." "Are you saying you got off on the fact that I d.a.m.n near shot you?" I laughed a little at the end, but it was a nervous laugh.

"Not got off the way that Nathaniel does, but I like to be dominated sometimes." He sat down on the couch, squeezed between Nathaniel and the couch arm. He wrapped his arms around Nathaniel's shoulders again, though he was sitting on his knees so that he couldn't put their faces next to each other. Nathaniel cuddled in against him, a peaceful look on his face. It creeped me out. But he cuddled Byron's arms tighter around him, as if he were his favorite teddy bear. He'd never liked Byron that much, and now just a little abuse and he was his best buddy. I did not get it, I just didn't.

Byron hugged him back and stroked the side of his hair. "I'm a switch, Anita, in every sense of the word."

I frowned at him. "Switch means bis.e.xual, right?"

"There's another meaning for it, duckie."

"Just tell me, Byron. I'm not very good at subtle."