The Harlequin (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter 15)

Chapter Nine

DAWN HAD COME and all the vampires were asnooze in their coffins when I finally got a few minutes to try Edward again. I'd called twice while Lisandro's experts searched everything. They had found bugs, but not where they were listening to us, like listening posts. Hours of work later and we were clean. We actually got lucky. The bugs weren't the smallest and latest cutting-edge technology. Which meant they needed to be close to the clubs to hear. Probably something mobile like a van, the experts said. The tech was good, but not the latest and greatest. Which probably meant the Harlequin didn't know how to hack phone lines and computer systems. Probably. But even the listening devices we found were pretty high tech for a bunch of ancient vampires. Made me wonder what other wonders of modern technology they might be willing to use. Most vamps relied on vampire powers. I wasn't sure the Harlequin did. In fact, I was betting they didn't. Ancient vampires and armed with modern shit; it just wasn't fair.

I wanted to even those odds, so I was in Jean-Claude's bathroom with my cell phone, trying one last time to reach Edward.

I dialed the number, and had almost given up when I heard the phone click over. The voice that answered the phone was thick with sleep. For a second I thought it was Edward, so I said, "Edward?"

The voice cleared a little and said, "Anita, that you?" The voice was male, but definitely not Edward. Shit.

Edward was engaged to a widow with two kids. Lately when I wanted to be sure I'd get him the first time, I called Donna's house, not his. They weren't officially living together, but he spent more time at her place than at his own. "Hey, Peter, sorry, forgot the time difference."

I heard some movement, as if he'd rolled over and taken the phone under the covers with him. "It's all right. What's up?" His voice had spent the last year breaking and finally settled into a deeper bass that still startled me sometimes.

"I just need to talk to Ted," I said, hoping he hadn't heard the Edward earlier.

"It's okay, Anita," and he gave a laugh that still held a lazy edge of sleep. "I know who Edward is, but you're lucky I answered the phone. Mom or Becca would have asked questions."

This was the first I knew that any of Edward's new family knew his secret identity. I wasn't sure how I felt about Peter knowing, or about any of them knowing. They knew what he did, sort of, the legalish parts, but they didn't really know who Edward was, or at least that's what I had believed until now.

I checked my wristwatch, which had gone on along with a robe. I did quick math in my head and said, "Shouldn't you be getting ready for karate class?"

"They're painting the dojo." he said.

I would also have asked why he had a phone in his room, but he wasn't my kid. I mean, sixteen was a little young for your own phone, wasn't it?

"I placed first in the karate tournament last Saturday," he said.

"Congratulations," I said.

"It's not like real fighting, not like you and Edward do, but it's still cool."

"I've never won first place in a martial arts tournament of any kind, Peter. You're doing good."

"But you have a black belt in judo, right?"

"Yeah."

"And you're training in other martial arts, right?"

"Yeah, but..."

"A tournament is just kid stuff, I know, but Edward says I have to wait until I'm at least old enough to sign up for military service before he'll take me on anything real."

I did not like the sound of that at all. "Eighteen, right."

"Yeah" - he sighed so heavily - "two years." He made two years sound like forever. I guess at sixteen it is.

I wanted to tell him that there were other lives to live that had nothing to do with fighting, guns, or violence. I wanted to tell him that he couldn't follow in his almost-stepfather's footsteps, but I couldn't. It wasn't my place to say it, and Peter wouldn't have listened anyway. I was in the same business as his "dad," so I was cool, too. "Is Ted there?"

"Anita," and he sounded chiding, "I know his real name."

"Yes, but you're right, I should never have said Edward when calling this number. It should be Ted until I'm sure who I'm talking to. I'm practicing."

He laughed again. I didn't think I was that funny. "Ted's here." I heard that slide of cloth again. "Though at eight on a day we don't have school, Mom and Ted are probably still in bed." He must have rolled over to look at a clock.

"I didn't mean to call this early," I said, "I'll call back later." His voice sobered. "What's wrong, Anita? You sound all stressed." Great, I couldn't even control my voice enough to fool a teenage boy. Truth was, I'd finally realized that I wasn't just asking Edward to come hunt monsters, I was asking him to leave his family to come hunt monsters. Edward used to live to find bad things that could test his skills. He lived to be better, faster, meaner, quicker, more deadly than the monsters he hunted. Then he'd met Donna, and suddenly he had other things to live for. I wasn't sure he'd ever walk down the aisle with her, but he was the only father the kids had, and the only husband Donna had. Her first husband had been killed by a werewolf. An eight-year-old Peter had picked up his father's dropped gun and finished off the wounded shapeshifter. He'd saved his family while his father's body was still twitching on the floor. In some ways Edward fit in just fine. Edward picked Becca up from ballet class, for God's sake. But... but what if I got him killed? What if I got him killed and Peter and Becca lost another parent because I was too chickenshit to handle my own mess?

"Anita, Anita, are you there?"

"Yeah, yeah, Peter, I'm here."

"You sound strange, like, scared almost."

Peter was too damned perceptive for comfort sometimes. "I just..." Oh, hell, what could I say that would fix this? "Let Edward sleep in, don't wake them."

"Something's wrong, I can hear it in your voice. You called because you're in trouble. That's it, isn't it?" he asked.

"I'm not in trouble," I said. In my head, I added, yet.

Silence on his end of the phone for a heartbeat. "You're lying to me." He sounded accusatory.

"Well, that's a hell of a thing to say," I said, with as much indignation as I could muster. I wasn't lying, not really, I was just fudging the truth. Okay, fudging like double chocolate with three kinds of nuts, but it still wasn't completely a lie.

"Your word, your word of honor," he said in a very serious voice. "Tell me you didn't call to get Edward's help with some nasty monster problem."

Shit. "You know you're being a pain in the ass here," I said.

"I'm sixteen. I'm supposed to be a pain in the ass, or that's what Mom says. Give me your word that you're not lying to me, and I'll believe you. Give me your word, and I'll believe everything you've said, and I'll hang up, and you can go back to not being in trouble."

"Damn it, Peter."

"You won't give your word and then lie, will you?" His voice held question, and almost wonderment, as if he didn't quite believe it.

"No, not as a general rule, no."

"Edward said you wouldn't, but I wasn't sure I believed him. But you really won't, will you?"

"No," I said. "Happy now?"

"Yes," he said, though his voice didn't sound exactly happy. "Tell me what's wrong. Why do you need Edward's help?"

"I need to talk to Edward, but I won't tell you why, or what it's about."

"I'm not a baby, Anita."

"I know that."

"No, you don't," he said.

I sighed. "I don't think you're a baby, but you are a kid, Peter. You're grown-up for sixteen, but I'd like to keep some of the darker shit away from you until you reach at least eighteen. If Edward wants to share with you later, that's his lookout."

"You might as well tell me, Anita. If I ask, he'll tell me."

I hoped he was wrong, but was afraid he was right. "If Edward wants you to know, he'll tell you, Peter. But I am not going to tell you, and that's final."

"Is it that bad?" he asked, and I heard the first thread of worry.

Shit, again. I just couldn't win conversations with Peter. I'd only had a handful of them lately, but he always seemed to talk me into a box. "Get Edward on the phone, Peter, now."

"I can handle myself in a fight, Anita. I can help."

Shit, shit, and double shit. I was not going to win this conversation. "I'm hanging up now, Peter."

"No, Anita, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." And his voice went from that cynical grown-up to an almost childlike panic. The panic had worked better before his voice deepened. "Don't hang up, please, I'll get Ted." The phone hit wood so hard, I had to put the phone away from my ear. He came back on, saying, "Sorry, dropped the phone. I'm getting dressed. I'll go knock on their door. If it's bad enough for you to call Edward, then you need to talk to him. I'll stop being a kid and just get him for you." He was a little angry with me, but mostly frustrated. He wanted to help. He wanted to grow up. He wanted to fight for real, whatever the hell that meant. What was Edward teaching him? Did I really want to know? No. Would I ask? Yes, unfortunately, yes. God, I did not need another problem on my plate right now. I thought about trying to lie to Edward, say I'd just called up to chat about the latest issue of Mercenaries Quarterly, but if I wasn't up to lying to Peter, Edward was absolutely out of my weight class.