"Into the Tenderloin?"
"Yep."
He was suddenly standing by the desk, walking towards me. I hadn't seen him rise.
"I wish you'd stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Clouding my mind so I can't see you move."
"I do it as often as I can, ma petite, just to prove I still can."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I gave up much of my power over you when I gave you the marks. I practice what little games are left me." He was standing almost in front of me. "Lest you forget who and what I am."
I stared up into his blue, blue eyes. "I never forget that you are the walking dead, Jean-Claude."
An expression I could not read passed over his face. It might have been pain. "No, I see the knowledge in your eyes of what I am." His voice dropped low, almost a whisper, but it wasn't seductive. It was human. "Your eyes are the clearest mirror I have ever seen, ma petite. Whenever I begin to pretend to myself. Whenever I have delusions of life. I have only to look into your face and see the truth."
What did he expect me to say? Sorry, I'll try to ignore the fact that you're a vampire. "So why keep me around?" I asked.
"Perhaps if Nikolaos had had such a mirror, she would not have been such a monster."
I stared at him. He might be right. It made his choice of me as human servant almost noble. Almost. Oh, hell. I would not start feeling sorry for the freaking Master of the City. Not now. Not ever.
We would go down to the Tenderloin. Pimps beware. I was bringing the Master as backup. It was like carrying a thermonuclear device to kill ants. Overkill has always been a specialty of mine.