Chapter 10
I pulled up in front of my apartment building at a little after 2:00 A.M. I'd planned to be in bed a long time before this. The new cross-shaped burn was a burning, acid-eating ache. It made my whole chest hurt. My ribs and stomach were sore, stiff. I turned on the dome light in the car and unzipped the leather jacket. In the yellow light bruises were blossoming across my skin. For a minute I couldn't think how I'd gotten hurt; then I remembered the crushing weight of the snake crawling over me. Jesus. I was lucky it was bruises and not broken ribs.
I clicked off the light and zipped the jacket back up. The shoulder straps were chafing on my bare skin, but the burn hurt so much more that the bruises and the chafing seemed pretty darn minor. A good burn will take your mind off everything else.
The light that usually burned over the stairs was out. Not the first time. I'd have to call the office once it opened for the day and report it, though. If you didn't report it, it didn't get fixed.
I was three steps up before I saw the man. He was sitting at the head of the stairs waiting for me. Short blond hair, pale in the darkness. His hands sat on the top of his knees, palms up to show that he didn't have a weapon. Well, that he didn't have a weapon in his hands. Edward always had a weapon unless someone had taken it away from him.
Come to think of it, so did I.
"Long time no see, Edward."
"Three months," he said. "Long enough for my broken arm to heal completely."
I nodded. "I got my stitches out about two months ago."
He just sat on the steps looking down at me.
"What do you want, Edward?"
"Couldn't it be a social call?" He was laughing at me, quietly.
"It's two o'clock in the freaking morning; it better not be a social call."
"Would you rather it was business?" His voice was soft, but it carried.
I shook my head. "No, no." I never wanted to be business for Edward. He specialized in killing lycanthropes, vampires, anything that used to be human and wasn't anymore. He'd gotten bored with killing people. Too easy.
"Is it business?" My voice was steady, no tremble. Good for me. I could draw the Browning, but if we ever drew down on each other for real, he'd kill me. Being friends with Edward was like being friends with a tame leopard. You could pet it and it seemed to like you, but you knew deep down that if it ever got hungry enough, or angry enough, it would kill you. Kill you and eat the flesh from your bones.
"Just information tonight, Anita, no problems."
"What sort of information?" I asked.
He smiled again. Friendly ol' Edward. Ri-ight.
"Can we go inside and talk about it? It's freezing out here," he said.
"The last time you were in town you didn't seem to need an invitation to break into my apartment."
"You've got a new lock."
I grinned. "You couldn't pick it, could you?" I was genuinely pleased.
He shrugged; maybe it was the darkness, but if it hadn't been Edward, I'd have said he was embarrassed.
"The locksmith told me it was burglarproof," I said.
"I didn't bring my battering ram with me," he said.
"Come on up. I'll fix coffee." I stepped around him. He stood and followed me. I turned my back on him without worrying. Edward might shoot me someday, but he wouldn't do it in the back after telling me he was just here to talk. Edward wasn't honorable, but he had rules. If he planned to kill me, he'd have announced it. Told me how much people were paying him to off me. Watched the fear slide through my eyes.
Yeah, Edward had rules. He just had fewer of them than most people did. But he never broke a rule, never betrayed his own skewed sense of honor. If he said I was safe for tonight, he meant it. It would have been nice if Jean-Claude had had rules.
The hallway was middle-of-the-night, middle-of-the-week, had-to-get-up-in-the-morning quiet. My day living neighbors were all asnooze in their beds without care. I unlocked the new locks on my door and ushered Edward inside.
"That's a new look for you, isn't it?" he asked.
"What?"
"What happened to your shirt?"
"Oh." Suave comebacks, that's me. I didn't know what to say, or rather, how much to say.
"You've been playing with vampires again," he said.
"What makes you think so?" I asked.
"The cross-shaped burn on your, ah, chest."
Oh, that. Fine. I unzipped the jacket and folded it over the back of the couch. I stood there in my bra and shoulder holster and met his eyes without blushing. Brownie point for me. I undid the belt and slipped out of the shoulder holster, then took it into the kitchen with me. I laid the gun still in its holster on the countertop and got coffee beans out of the freezer, wearing just my bra and jeans. In front of any other male, alive or dead, I would have been embarrassed, but not Edward. There had never been sexual tension between us. We might shoot each other one fine day, but we'd never sleep together. He was more interested in the fresh burn than my breasts.
"How'd it happen?" he asked.
I ground the beans in the little electric spice mill I'd bought for the occasion. Just the smell of freshly ground coffee made me feel better. I put a filter in my Mr. Coffee, poured the coffee in, poured the water in, and pushed the button. This was about as fancy as my cooking skills got.
"I'm going to get a shirt to throw on," I said.
"The burn won't like anything touching it," Edward said.
"I won't button it, then."
"Are you going to tell me how you got burned?"
"Yes." I took my gun and walked into the bedroom. In the back of my closet I had a long-sleeved shirt that had once been purple but had faded to a soft lilac. It was a man's dress shirt and hung down nearly to my knees, but it was comfortable. I rolled the sleeves up to my elbows and buttoned it halfway up. I left it gapping over the burn. I glanced in the mirror and found that most of my cleavage was covered. Perfect.
I hesitated but finally put the Browning Hi-Power in its holster behind the headboard. Edward and I weren't fighting tonight, and anything that came through the door, with its new locks, would have to go through Edward first. I felt pretty safe.
He was sitting on my couch, legs out in front of him crossed at the ankle. He'd sunk down until the top of his shoulders rested on the couch's arm.
"Make yourself at home," I said.
He just smiled. "Are you going to tell me about the vampires?"
"Yes, but I'm having trouble deciding exactly how much to tell you."
The smile widened. "Naturally."
I set out two mugs, sugar, and real cream from the refrigerator. The coffee dripped into the little glass pot. The smell was rich, warm, and thick enough to wrap your arms around.
"How do you like your coffee?"