The Harlequin (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter 15)

Chapter Forty-two

EDWARD DROVE INTO the parking lot of the Church of Eternal Life, with Olaf riding beside him. I'd opted to sit in the middle seat with Micah and Nathaniel. Graham was in the back by himself. Edward hadn't even questioned why I let Olaf ride shotgun. I think he didn't want to watch Olaf stare at me either. It takes a lot to creep out Edward, but whatever Olaf had done while I was cut open had done it.

The parking lot was so full that we had to park illegally, close to the small green area with its benches and growing trees. In the December cold it was a bleak little space, or maybe my reaction was partly that the last time I'd stepped on the church's grass I'd shot a vampire to death with a handgun. It takes longer with a handgun. They tend to squirm and cry. Not one of my best memories. I shivered in the short leather jacket that Nathaniel had brought for me. The jacket would have been warmer if I'd been willing to zip it up, but I wanted to be able to get to my weapons more than I wanted to be warm.

You could tell who was carrying weapons by whose coat was flapping open in the winter cold. Nathaniel was zipped tight, but he'd continued his matching theme with his short leather jacket, so we still looked like we were going to a Goth club prom. The disturbing part was that Olaf matched us: black on black, leather jacket, boots.

Nathaniel had zipped up, Olaf hadn't. Micah had belted his lined trench coat. Graham's leather was fastened tight, too.

The church rose above us white and bare. The lack of decoration always made the church seem unfinished to me. No holy objects allowed when most of your congregation are vampires.

We walked up those wide, white steps to the double doors. Graham insisted on opening the doors for us. I didn't have patience to argue, and I was pretty certain Edward didn't argue because he knew cannon fodder when he saw it. He was hard-to-kill cannon fodder, but Graham wasn't armed, and I wasn't in love with him. From Edward's point of view it changed how he would treat him. Truthfully, me, too. I wanted everyone to come out alive tonight, but if it came to choices, who you loved counted. If you're not willing to admit that out loud inside your own head, then you should stay out of firefights and keep your family at home. Be honest, who would you save? Who would you sacrifice? We let Graham swing wide those double doors. He didn't even try to take cover. He stood framed in the light, his body dark with that nimbus of brightness around it. He turned back to me with a smile, as if he'd done a good thing. I said a prayer that Graham didn't get himself killed tonight. Yeah, we were supposed to be doing metaphysical battle, no weapons, but there were ways to kill with metaphysics. I'd seen it done. Hell, I'd done it a time or two. Illegal, that, if it's a human that dies. I won't tell if you won't.

Nathaniel reached for my left hand. He was warm, warmer than he should have been, fever warm, but there was no sweat on his palm. It wasn't nerves. It was power. It climbed up my arm, across my body in a wave of heat that made my skin dance in goose bumps. I made a small stumble on the steps. Micah grabbed my arm. He meant it to be helpful, but the power leapt from me to him. And it wasn't a power meant for him. Damian was meant to be on the other side of me for this. He was meant to cool this fire, but Micah's was never a magic that cooled me down. The power found the only thing it could recognize. It found his beast. I could actually see his leopard roaring up inside him like a black flame, roaring to life, spilling upward inside him. Micah could control it, but the velvet pouring of his beast brought mine. I was caught between two wereleopards. There was no other animal to distract my beasts.

I almost screamed it. "Not now!"

Olaf's deep voice said, "What is that?"

I didn't have time to look around and see if there was something else coming. Edward would take care of it. I believed that.

Micah managed to tear himself away from my arm. He went to his knees on the steps, as if he were having more trouble than normal controlling his own beast. It wasn't close to full moon. It shouldn't have been such an effort.

Graham was coming toward us. He was coming in a blur of speed, but my leopard was rising faster. It was tearing its way up through my body. I needed to cool this heat. I almost reached for Jean-Claude. He was vampire. He was the chill of the grave, but he never affected me that way. He was always passion to me. I needed to think. I reached for my other vampire. I reached out to Damian. I reached out with desperation. I screamed in my head, Save me, save us, kill this heat.

I felt him stagger when my call hit him. I knew someone grabbed his arm to keep him from falling. But my power hit him, and he gave me what I demanded. He gave me that coolness. That utter control that he had learned in years of servitude to the master that created him. He gave me the control that had helped him survive, and betray nothing by thought, word, deed, or glance. He gave me that control in a sweep of cold, steely willpower.

The visual in my head was of my leopard finding a metal wall in her path. She snarled at it and reacted like any self-respecting leopard would if a giant wall suddenly appeared in the forest path. She ran. The leopard ran back the way she had come, to hide in that empty, full, dark place where all the beasts seemed to wait inside me. It was like the blackness of space before the light found it, except it was inside me somewhere. I don't explain the show, sometimes I just watch it.

A woman's voice, half singing, beautiful and pure and strangely joyous, spoke from inside the open doors. "Let it begin at last, our contest, Jean-Claude. Your servant has struck the first blow."

I yelled, "It was an accident." But it was too late. I had done metaphysics. Either she didn't realize how little control I had over some of my powers, or she was using it as an excuse to start the fight. Either way, shit.

Graham offered me his hand, and I took it. He dragged me and Nathaniel up off the steps. His hand in mine was just a hand, just warmth. Maybe he wasn't armed, and maybe he didn't understand how to take cover, but in that moment no one else with us could have dragged me to my feet without complicating things. I looked up and found Edward with his hand on Olaf's stomach, or lower chest. Olaf would have helped me off the steps, and Edward had stopped it. He looked at me, and the look was enough. They weren't psychic enough to tell the difference between beasts rising and the ardeur rising, not in its early stages. Edward didn't want to have it spread to him, and he was going to make certain it didn't spread to Olaf. I pushed the thought away, into that crowded cage that all the other thoughts had gone into for the last few days and hours. Think about it later. We were running up the steps. Graham had my right hand, but we weren't supposed to be pulling guns tonight, right?