Skin Trade (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter 17)

Chapter 59

WE GOT DRESSED, because strangely, when the ardeur left and the grief left, the desert night was cold. Truth gave me his leather jacket; when I protested, he said, "I don't really feel the cold like a human." Duh, I so knew that, but the emotional revelations had shaken me a little. When he held the jacket out to me, I saw his arms. His lower arms had nail marks on them, some bleeding. I'd even managed to bleed the back of his right hand.

"God, Truth, I'm sorry."

He glanced down at the scratches as if he'd just noticed them, too. "It's nothing."

"I'm still sorry I didn't ask how you felt about nails."

He gave a small smile. "We didn't have much time to negotiate."

"I guess not."

"I count it as a mark of my service to you and Jean-Claude," he said.

I flinched a little. "Don't call it service, that sounds too much like..."

"Don't make more of what he said than there is to make, Anita," Wicked said. "He didn't mean anything by it."

I let the conversation die because it was all too confusing for me. Truth's jacket was large enough that my hands kept vanishing in the sleeves, and the bottom of the leather hung down to midthigh. I looked like I was five and playing dress-up in my dad's clothes, but I was warm. The fashion police could ticket me later.

I called Edward on Truth's cell phone. Mine was probably in Phoebe Billings's yard. I hoped Edward had found it. I called to find out where he was, and if I was too late to help him hunt demons.

"Anita," and he sounded half relieved and half frightened, not something you hear from Edward often.

"Are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that," and he lowered his voice, as if he were afraid of being overheard. "Last I see, you're carried off by a vampire, and I let him do it, and it's an hour and a half later, and you're not back. I'd think if you had to feed the ardeur, a quickie would have done it."

I fought not to glance at the two vampires. "Trust me, Edward, it was a quickie. Did I miss it? Was there a demon at Bering's house?"

"You haven't missed anything. Did you ever try to get a warrant based on a possible demon being in a house?"

I almost said yes, then had to stop and think about it. "No, actually."

"Well, we got a judge who thinks that demons are just evil spirits. He's arguing that demons couldn't possibly have killed our cops."

"Normally, he'd be right, but it doesn't matter. Our warrant of execution should get us in Bering's house," I said.

"Shaw didn't think so, and he's the undersheriff."

"Let me guess, Bering is rich, or connected, or something."

"His family has been a big deal around here for as long as Max has been in charge. He's the last of the family unless he breeds, which doesn't seem likely if we can ever get into the house."

"You can just press the warrant; it's federal, and that outranks local."

"I wanted to give you time to get back," he said.

"Shit, Edward, you didn't have to delay the investigation because I'm having a metaphysical breakdown."

"Put it another way, have you seen anyone else but you and me that you'd want backing you against a demon?"

I thought about that. "Lieutenant Grimes and his men are good," I said.

"They're some of the best, but I haven't seen them pray to the angels and have everything glow."

Oh. "Okay, tell me where you are, and Wicked will drop me nearby."

He was back at SWAT headquarters. "We've had the briefing about Bering's house. We're just waiting for the warrant, or for me to push the one we have."

"My weapons are stashed there; could you change out some things? I didn't pack with demon in mind."

"I've already repacked for you, and I found your phone in the yard with your weapons. I can list what I packed for you," he said.

"That's okay, I trust you to pack for me. Though, frankly, most of the time a demon isn't solid enough for normal weapons of any kind to work. The rare ones that do get solid enough to attack may only be solid for the second of that attack, so we'll have to be shooting around each other if it goes bad."

"See, none of their practitioners knew that, and neither did the priest they've got here that's been blessing our bullets."

"The priest has been doing what?" I asked.

"You heard right."

"Hmm, I've never tried that."

"Me, either," he said.

"I wonder if the bullets will glow?"

"We'll find out," he said.

I sighed. "Yeah, we'll find out."

"You don't sound so good," he said.

I opened my mouth, closed it, then said the only thing I could think of. "I'm tired of being a victim to my own metaphysical powers, Edward."

"Are you okay now?"

"I've fed the ardeur. I should be good for twelve hours at least, maybe twenty-four."

"Why double up?" he asked.

"Let's just say it was a good meal, okay."

"Okay," he said, "get here as soon as you can."

"So what, I walk in and play the Fed card and piss everyone off, so that you come off as reasonable and I'm the bitch?"

"I'd play the heavy if I could, but I've been too reasonable. I can't explain the change."

"So I am the bitch."

"Picture Shaw's face when you do it."

I smiled, and knew it wasn't a pleasant smile. "Well, there is that. Fine, I'll be the bad cop, but it's your turn next time."

"You don't damage your rep by doing this."

"And you might," I said.

"Ted is a very nice guy," he said.

"You know, it always creeps me when you talk about Ted in the third person."

He laughed, and it was a good Edward laugh. "Just get here as soon as possible. Do you have a badge?"

My hands went to my belt and found that the belt, badge, and empty holster had survived the night. "Surprisingly, yes."

"Then flash it, and come explain to everyone why we don't have to wait on Shaw and the judge."

"Isn't this going to make you and the other marshals look weak?"

"They already think we're pussy-whipped; why disappoint them?"

I shrugged, realized he couldn't see it, and said, "Okay, but please warn Bernardo and Olaf what we're doing so that they don't blame me."

"I'll tell them. Just get here." I heard noise on the other end of the phone, and his voice trailing away, "Hello, Detective Morgan, yes, it is Marshal Blake." Movement, then, "Ask nicely, and maybe I will."

Apparently, he asked nicely. "Where the hell are you, Blake?"

"Following up a lead," I said.

"What kind of lead?"

"Vampires," I said.

"And what kind of vampire lead would that be?"

"One that didn't lead anywhere."

"So you just wasted an hour and a half of our time," and his voice was hostile.

"Most leads don't pan out, you know that. Besides, it's not me that's trying to double-paper my ass."

"Just get your ass back here."

"You aren't my boss, Morgan. Put Ted back on."

"Is he your boss?"

"Closest thing Vegas has to one, yeah."

There was more noise, and movement, and then Edward came back on. "Sorry, about that, Blake," he said in his cheerful Ted voice. I heard him walking, cowboy boots hitting some hard surface, and then he spoke in his normal voice. "Morgan didn't agree with Shaw going to a judge. He thought we should throw Bering to the wolves."

"So he's taking his mad-on at Shaw out on us?"

"Yelling at us won't get him fired or demoted."

"I'm getting really tired of being everyone's whipping girl, Edward."

"Yeah." He stopped walking. "Get here, Anita. We need this done."

I was left with a buzzing phone. Actually, I'd have rather tackled the demon in the daylight, but two problems with that. One, some demons didn't show up in daylight, so if you wanted to kill it or send it back, you needed it to be dark. Two, if the vampires were in there, again, I'd rather wait until daylight, but while we waited and played it safe, they might kill someone else. Not acceptable. So much of my job, lately, was just a choice of disasters. I guess that was true of a lot of police work, though.

I turned back to the vampires. "I need to get back to Vegas and help us push our warrant for a house."

"I thought your warrant covered any house you needed," Wicked said.

"It does, but we've got a pissy undersheriff and a judge who doesn't like the execution warrants. A lot of judges don't."

"Why would they not like it? It's only a nearly perfectly legal excuse to kill anything in your path," Wicked said.

"You sound like you don't approve."

"Not my job to approve or disapprove."

"Fine, Truth, you take me to Vegas."

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it," Wicked said.

"Then stop bitching. I've had enough of that from the locals."

His face softened. "I'm sorry, Anita, but I am a vampire, and the executioners could kill me tomorrow with almost no proof of a crime and no trial."

"Hey, at least you guys can't be killed on sight in this country; better than most of the rest of the world."

Wicked and Truth came to stand in front of me, giving me that mirrored look as if they were thinking the same thought. "We'll take you where you need to go," Truth said.

"Aren't you afraid to touch me?" I asked.

He shook his head.

I studied that serious face. "Aren't you afraid of the ardeur?"

"Yes."

Wicked answered, "He's not afraid of you, Anita. We know you meant what you said. Belle would never ask that of anyone. She likes being the monster."

I shivered, and it wasn't pleasure this time. "I've felt her touch." I thought about her dream visit. I was almost sure that she'd kept Victor the weretiger from doing something to me in the dream, but in return she'd done something to the ardeur. Had it been her who caused the ardeur to spread to Truth from a distance? I didn't know, and if I asked her, she'd lie.

"Whoever's up for it, let's fly me to Edward."

"She's afraid of heights," Wicked said.

"How afraid?" Truth asked.

"Pretty," he said.

Truth looked down at me, considering. "We would never drop you."

I waved the thought away. "It's a phobia, not logic. Just decide who's taking me before I lose my nerve."

They laughed, and it was like hearing it in stereo. Wicked said, "You may lose a lot of things, but you'll never lose your nerve."

"Pretty to think so; now who's pilot for the return trip?"

"Why don't you just order one of us?" Truth asked.

"Because I can't fly, and I don't know if Wicked is tired from carrying me here and then feeding the ardeur. So I trust you two to decide who's up for it."

Wicked smiled at me. "I'm almost more honored that you trust us, rather than order us, than I am about the sex."

I shrugged. "You're welcome, I guess. Now, whoever, but I need to get back to town."

"I'll take her," Truth said.

"I've had more recovery time," Wicked said.

"I'll take her," Truth repeated. The brothers looked at each other for a long moment. One of those unreadable moments that you can simply feel on the air like a weight of unspoken things, and you suddenly feel like a voyeur in someone else's life. I realized why Bernardo had said something similar earlier about Edward and me. He was right.

Finally, Wicked said, "As you like."

"I do," he said.

Again, I felt like I was listening to shorthand, and that there were a dozen things going on below the surface of those few words, but you're never supposed to let people know that you hear the unspoken things. It makes them nervous. I scare people enough without going all girl-intuitive, too.

Truth looked at me. "Are you ready?"

I took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, fighting to keep it from trembling, then nodded.

He closed the distance between us. He hesitated, then said, "I need to carry you."

I nodded again. "I know." My voice sounded just the tiniest bit unhappy. I could do this, damn it. It was just heights, and flying, and... Oh, hell, I did not want to do this, but we were too far out for driving, even if we had a car. This was the quickest way, and Edward had stalled for me long enough.

Truth picked me up in his arms, as if he meant to walk with me. Something must have shown on my face because he said, "It's the most secure way for you."

"It's just that Wicked carried me differently."

Wicked said, "I was afraid you might've started struggling with the hunger on you. Carrying you against my body, I had more control if you had gone... mad while we were flying."

Truth turned with me in his arms and asked, "You said hunger, not ardeur."

"The first hunger that came to her was blood and flesh. She had turned toward the humans when she asked me to take her someplace where she would not be tempted."

Truth looked down at me, his face blank and serious, which I'd begun to realize was his blank face. It was what he hid behind when he didn't want anyone knowing what he was thinking.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I will take you to your friends, but if the other hungers are rising more than the ardeur, then you need to be even more careful to eat solid food, and..." He faltered.

"What he's trying to say is that to make certain you don't try to attack your human friends, you need to feed the ardeur more regularly, as well as eat more real food."

"You think I should eat before I go to sleep tonight?"

"I think a midnight snack wouldn't be a bad idea," Wicked said.

"Agreed," Truth said.

"Crap," I said, "I really didn't want to do some of the people you brought from St. Louis."

"I think a little sex with willing men is the lesser evil here, Anita."

I nodded. Let's see, sex with more men, or trying to tear the throats out of Edward, Olaf, and Bernardo. Let me think... out loud I said, "I know it's the lesser evil, but I still don't have to be happy about it."

"If you were happy about it, you wouldn't be you," Truth said.

"But if you were a little more happy about it," Wicked said, "you'd have better control of the ardeur in the first place. You have to embrace your vampire powers to truly use them well."

"You know, if we're just going to chat, then put me down."

"I think the lady is tired of talking," Wicked said.

"Then to action," Truth said, and I felt that push of energy skyward. The sand and tiny gravel swirled upward from the force of it so that we left the ground in a cloud of it.

I had a dizzying glimpse of the ground falling away beneath his boots. A wave of nausea tried to crawl up my throat. I closed my eyes tight and leaned in against his chest. The nausea was less, though my pulse was still trying to crawl out the side of my throat, my heart beating so fast it hurt my chest. I fought not to tighten the arm around his neck too much. But I couldn't keep myself from getting a handful of his shirt, as if the thin T-shirt would really help if everything went to hell. But sometimes, when you're really scared, illusion is all you've got. Cling to it, baby, cling to it.