Skin Trade

Chapter 21

I APOLOGIZED TO Dr. Memphis and got the name of Sherman's high priestess. She was in the phone book. We hit the heat outside, sunglasses sliding over our eyes like some sort of science fiction shield. The gesture was already automatic, and I hadn't been in town a day.

There was music playing, and it took me a few seconds to realize it was my phone. It was playing "I'm Not in Love," by 10cc, but it was not a ring tone I'd chosen. I was really going to have to learn to do my own ring tones. Nathaniel's sense of humor was beginning to get on my nerves.

I hit the button and said, "What's with the choice of songs, Nathaniel?"

"It is not your pussycat, ma petite," and just like that, I was standing in the Vegas heat talking to the Master Vampire of St. Louis and my main squeeze. He never called me when I was working with the police unless something really bad had happened.

"What's wrong?" I asked. My pulse was suddenly in my throat.

Bernardo looked at me, and I waved a hand, shaking my head, moving toward Edward and Olaf by the car.

"Why should anything be wrong, ma petite?" But his voice held anger, which it didn't usually do. He could say nothing was wrong, but his voice said otherwise, and since he could make his voice as empty of emotion as a blank wall, either he wanted me to know he was angry, or he was so pissed that he couldn't hide it. He was more than four hundred years old; you learned to hide a lot of emotion in that much time. So what had I done to piss him off? Or what had someone else done?

I suddenly wanted privacy for the call. So I got in the SUV and the men stood out in the heat. I offered to do it the other way around, but Edward had insisted, and when he insists there's usually a reason for it. I've learned not to argue when he insists; we all live longer.

I turned on the air-conditioning and got comfortable while the three men seemed to be talking, quietly but intensely. Hmm.

"Ma petite, I wake and find you far away."

"I'm not happy about it either," I said. I thought about him, and that was enough to see him lying in our bed, the sheets draped carelessly across his body, one long leg clear of the sheets. One hand held the phone, but the other was playing idly along Asher's back. He would be dead to the world for hours yet, but it never bothered Jean-Claude to touch another vampire when they were still "dead." I found it disturbing. Maybe I'd been at one too many crime scenes.

He looked up into the air, as if he felt me watching him. "Would you like to see more?"

I drew my mind and attention back to the SUV, the Vegas heat pressing against the car. "I think it would distract me."

"There are those who would give all they have to be distracted by me."

"You're angry at me."

"We work so hard to make the vampire community think you are truly my servant and not my master, and then you do this."

"Do what, my job?"

He sighed, and the sound eased over the phone and down my skin like a shiver of anticipation. "Leave without my permission," but he made the last word sound dirty, as if asking permission could have been so much fun.

"Stop that, please. I'm working, or trying to."

"I find that not only are you gone, but you have taken no food."

"I fed this morning."

"But tomorrow will come, ma petite."

"Crispin is here."

"Ah, yes, your little tiger." He didn't try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

I ignored the sarcasm. "I took your call in the middle of a murder investigation."

"I am so grateful that you could be bothered."

It was way too petty for Jean-Claude, but there it was, his voice, his call. What the hell was going on? But one of the good things about Jean-Claude is I didn't have to protect him from the horrors of my job. He'd seen worse, or close to it, in his centuries of life. So I told the truth. "I've just been to the morgue and seen what's left of some of the Vegas PD's finest. I don't need to fight with you, on top of that."

He sighed. The sound shivered through my mind, down my body as if he were right there, just behind me, whispering, touching.

I threw metaphysical shields in place, though shielding from my master wasn't easy. He had the keys to my shields if he wanted to push it. Today, he let me wrap my shields and my anger around me. "What the fuck was that? I am trying to solve a multiple homicide. I do not need your mind games."

"My apologies, ma petite. I think my feelings are hurt."

"What does that mean?" I asked, voice still angry, but the rest of me was calming down. I wasn't sure he'd ever said out loud that his feelings were hurt.

"It means, ma petite, that I thought we had made progress in our relationship, and I find that the ground we had gained is not as secure as I had thought."

I said the truth, again. "I have no idea what you just said. I mean, I heard it, and it was English, but I don't understand what you're talking about." I rested my forehead on the steering wheel, closing my eyes, and trying to breathe in the coolness of the air-conditioning. "But I feel sort of vaguely like I should apologize, anyway."

He gave that wonderful laugh. The one that made my body react as if he'd touched way too intimate a part and fed me candy at the same time. His laugh wasn't just about sex; it felt so good, it should have been fattening.

I sighed, but it was just a sigh. I couldn't do his voice tricks. "Please, stop messing with me. God, Jean-Claude, I can't work like this."

He gave a more ordinary chuckle. "I think I needed to hear that you missed me."

"How can you posssibly be insecure? That's my job."

"You make me insecure, ma petite, only you."

I didn't know what to say to that, but I tried. "I'm sorry."

"I know you mean that, and it does help."

How did I get off the phone without hurting his feelings again? I had no clue. Shit. It wasn't like him to call when I was off with the police. I hoped, desperately, that it didn't become a habit.

I realized I was hunching over the steering wheel. I made myself sit up straight and avoid looking in Edward's direction.

Jean-Claude's voice, when it came again, was almost neutral. "When I woke and heard where you had gone, I was not idle. There is a swanmane in Las Vegas. The Swan King, Donovan Reece, has already offered him to be at your disposal for feeding if the need arises."

"Thank Donovan for me, and I do appreicate that you're willing to share me with yet one more man. I know we've talked about not adding any more."

"It's not the feeding, ma petite, it's that you seem incapable of sex without emotion. If you could fuck and feed, then I would have no problem with a hundred lovers. Feed, then never see them again, but you collect men, ma petite. You can fuck a dozen men, but you cannot date them all."

"I'm sort of aware of that," I said.

"Are you?" There was that edge of anger again.

"I'm just not good at casual sex. I'm sorry."

"No, you are not," and the anger was a little more.

I didn't know what to do with his anger, or this fight, so I ignored it. Men will let you do that sometimes in a relationship because they're not girls. "I may need something not feline that is one of the beasts I carry inside me. I don't carry swan."

"I tell you that I am tired of sharing you with other men, and that you collect them, and you ask for more?"

He was going to be the girl. Great. Fucking great. "I promise when I get back to St. Louis, we can have this fight. I swear. But right now, help me survive this case."

"And how may I do that?"

"The weretigers are a little too much sometimes because of how many different flavors I've got inside me." I'd been attacked by one tiger, but carried five different metaphysical colors of them. No one had been able to explain how that had happened. "Did you happen to find any wolves I could borrow while I'm here?"

"No wolves; the local pack seems to fear that you will be a disrupting influence on them, ma petite."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that the news has gotten out that sex with you can be like a vampire's bite. One taste and they belong to you."

"That's not true," I said, but my pulse had sped.

"You lie to yourself, ma petite."

"Stop calling me that."

"You have not asked me to give up your pet name in many years."

"It's the way you're saying it, like you're angry and trying not to show it."

"I am angry, because I am afraid for you. Vittorio was vicious in St. Louis, and it has been all over the news that three of their SWAT have been killed. They are not easily killed, your SWAT."

What did I say to that? He was right. "I'm sorry I had to leave without talking to you first."

"I hear true regret in that phrase. What would you have told me, if I had said it was too dangerous? What would you have done if I had said, do not go?"

I thought about that, then finally said, "I would have come anyway."

"You see, you are not my servant. You will never be a servant."

"I thought the idea was to make the vampire community think I was a good little human servant. I didn't know you still thought I'd toe the line for you." I had a little heat in my words, again. It was a trickle of anger to warm me. Of course, it was warm enough that anger might not be what I needed.

"That is not what I meant."

"It's what you said."

He made a soft, exasperated sound. "Perhaps I am still fool enough to believe that you will truly be mine."

"And what the hell does that mean?"

He was quiet for so long that it was unnerving. Vampires didn't have to breathe on the phone, and only years of practice made me sure he was still there. I waited, and finally he spoke. "You need some of our people with you. You need your own leopard, and wolf, or lion."

"I don't have a lion of my own, yet."

"Our local Rex would be yours if you would allow it."

"Yeah, and his Regina would hunt me down and kill me. I've met her. She's pissed I'm sleeping with him. If I make him my lion to call, she'll see that as a challenge. I'm good, Jean-Claude, but I'm not good enough to win a fair fight with a werelion of her power."

"Then do not fight fair," he said.

"If I cheat, then by lion law others can gang up on me and kill me for that. I've studied up on it since I met the new Regina of the St. Louis clan. Trust me, Jean-Claude, I have thought about this."

"Do you truly believe she would kill you if you had a stronger claim on her king?"

"Yep," I said, "because she told me that she would share him. That I could be his mistress but not his wife. She was his wife."

"You did not mention this to me."

"It's lions, not wolves. My animal, not yours."

He sighed, and it wasn't his teasing sigh, just tired. "Ma petite, ma petite, when will you learn that what is yours is mine. Any danger to you, I need to know."

"I'll tell you all my secrets when you tell me all yours," I said.

"Touche, ma petite, a fine deep cut that one." He was back to being angry.

"Why are you angry with me?" I asked.

"You are right, I am being childish, but I don't know how to help you. I don't know how to keep you safe in Vegas. Do you understand that, ma petite? I do not know how to keep you safe from Max and his queen. I cannot help you from hundreds of miles away. I cannot send you our guards because you have a badge, and the police will not let our guards guard you. What do you want me to do, ma petite? What the hell do you want me to do?" He was yelling now. He almost never yelled. His losing his temper helped me keep mine. I'd never heard him use the word hell before. In fact, hearing him that out of control let me know just how scared he was for me. That scared me.

"It's okay, Jean-Claude, I'll think of something. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what, Anita?" He never used my name; it was a very bad sign.

"I'm sorry that you're afraid for me. I'm sorry that I've made you feel helpless. I'm sorry that I'm here, and you're right, I can't be a marshal and your human servant at the same time. I have to choose, and once the police are involved it means I have to choose the badge. Which may be exactly what Vittorio planned. I'm sorry that Edward may be right, and this is like the ultimate trap for me."

"Ma petite, I did not mean to lose my temper, but it is not just Vittorio that you need fear."

"I know that being around the weretigers is going to test my ability to control the beasts inside me."

"I fear so."

"Is there anything you haven't told me about Max or his tigers?"

"Shall I be coy, and say that you know all?"

"The truth would be nice."

"Recently, Max wanted you to visit his city and sleep with more of his tigers. They want, very much, to see if the new psychic powers that Crispin and the red tiger, Alex, gained from you feeding the ardeur was a onetime thing or can be shared with others of their clan."

"I'm not sure those were my powers at all. The Queen of All Darkness, Marmee Noir, possessed me for a couple of days. With the help of my inner wolf, I kept from being consumed by her, but I still think any extra powers that the tigers gained came from her, not me."

"That may be, but Max and his queen would like to test the theory."

"I thought they were afraid I'd take over any tiger I fed on and that he was pissed how devoted Crispin is to me?"

"All that is true, but in the last few weeks, Maximillian has asked for a visit, or to send tigers to you for feeding."

"And you were going to tell me all this when?"

"Ma petite, I am already sharing you with eight other men, or is it nine? You have enough food here in St. Louis; we do not need more in your bed. I do not really wish to add to your lovers."

Just hearing him say it that way made me feel squeegy. "Do I apologize again?"

"No, for it is my ardeur that you carry. I cannot fault you for gaining my hunger."

"Why do you think Max changed his mind about letting me have some more tigers?"

"I believe it is his wife, Bibiana. By the way, ma petite, knowing your sense of humor, I will caution you that only Max calls her Bibi. She is Bibiana, or Chang-Bibi."

"You gave me this lecture before Max visited us last time. Chang, depending on pronunciation, is the name of a moon goddess. I won't say it to her face, but it does make me dread meeting her a little to know that it's not enough to be queen; her title has to mean goddess."

"It is a traditional title, not one she chose, ma petite."

"If you say so."

"I do."

"Okay, I'll do my best not to use her husband's nickname for her, if it's like a serious faux pas."

"It is. She is a very powerful weretiger, and she seeks more power. If she could have other tigers with the new ability that Crispin has, then it would be good for her clan."

"He can call like static electricity, Jean-Claude; it's like a little ouchy, but it's not a weapon. It works best when he has metal to touch, so it's really limited without metal around him."

"Crispin is one of her weaker tigers. The tigers she offered to us recently were not so weak."

"She's hoping that if they're more powerful shapeshifters, then their ability to do the lightning thing will be greater."

"Oui."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I do not understand, ma petite."

"Do you want me to avoid feeding on her tigers while I'm here?"

"What will you feed on, if not the tigers?"

"I've got the swanmane, thanks to you, and I can feed on anger now."

"If you can avoid feeding on any but Crispin, I think that would be wise."

"I'll do my best."

"Of that, ma petite, I have no doubt."

"Thanks."

"It is the truth. I may not always enjoy your choices, and they are certainly not mine, but you always try your hardest and do your best. I do understand that, ma petite."

"I'm sorry you don't like the choices, but thanks for noticing that I'm trying."

"You are welcome."

"But if I do have to feed on other tigers, is it okay with you? I mean, will it affect the balance of power among the tiger clans if the white clan suddenly has this uber-version of Crispin's power?"

"A wise question, ma petite, but I have a better one."

"Shoot."

"Would you truly sleep with strangers?"

"I don't know, I haven't met the strangers yet."

He laughed then, and it had the first edge of that caressing energy. "So terribly you, that comment, ma petite."

"Well, it's the truth. If feeding off a few of his tigers will make Max and his wife happier with me and you, then it's not a fate worse than, whatever."

"You have always been practical, even ruthless, in violence, but this is the first hint I have had that you may be growing practical in the bedroom."

"You aren't here to keep me safe, so I'll have to use what you've taught me to do it for you."

"And what have I taught you, ma petite?"

"That sex is just another tool in the arsenal."

"Do you believe that?" he asked.

"No, but you do."

"Not with you, ma petite, never."

"Not true; when we first met, you tried to seduce me."

"All men try to seduce the women they want."

"Maybe, but you did teach me that a little sex isn't a fate worse than death."

"Very wise, ma petite."

"But cheer up, Jean-Claude, if the weretigers are involved in the murder, then maybe Max and his queen are part of the group that murdered the policemen. If I can prove them guilty, then I can kill them, legally, not as your human servant but as a U.S. Marshal."

"We killed the Master of the City of Charleston and have put our own vampire in his place. If we slay another Master of the City, the vampire council could use it as an excuse to discipline us."

"Discipline how?"

"We have enemies on the council, as you know."

"I remember."

"Also, Max and Bibiana's death would leave a huge vacuum of power in Vegas," he said.

"Is that our problem?" I asked.

"Not if you have no choice, and they have truly murdered all these police officers, but if we could avoid leaving such a vacuum of power, it would be better."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"But do not hesitate, ma petite. Do whatever you must to come back to me."

"Count on it," I said.

"I do. Would you, how do you say, frame Max and his queen?"

"No, but I might fudge a bit."

"What does that mean in this context, ma petite?"

"It means that we might have enough proof to execute, then find out we were wrong. I'd still be in the clear legally."

"Truly?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Your warrants of execution can be very frightening documents, ma petite."

"A license to murder is what one lawyer called it."

"I will trust you to be as practical as you need to be, ma petite. I will find others to send to Vegas, for other business reasons."

"What sort of other business?"

"There is always business to do, ma petite."

"Like what?"

"Max has asked for some of our dancers to come and guest-star in his show."

"Bear in mind that Vittorio may have had people watching me in St. Louis. He may know who's special to me. Don't give him hostages, Jean-Claude. So whomever you send, make sure they can handle it."

"I will choose carefully, ma petite."

"How soon will you get some of them here?"

"Tomorrow, at the latest."

"Okay, but I'm going to push to see the tigers before nightfall. They live in a high-rise, so Max doesn't have the underground to help him wake early like you do. I'm going to try to question the tigers while it's just the queen. She's his animal to call, which means separated by his daytime sleep, she's not as powerful."

"Do remember in chess, ma petite, that the queen is far more dangerous to your men than the king."

It was my turn to laugh. "I never forget that a woman can be dangerous, Jean-Claude."

"Sometimes you do forget that you are not the most dangerous woman in a room."

"Are you saying I'm arrogant?"

"I am saying, the truth. Je t'aime, ma petite."

"I love you, too."

He hung up then, and I guess he was right. We were done, but it still felt like the conversation had gone badly, or like he hadn't said everything he needed to say. I loved Jean-Claude, and Asher, but I missed my house. I missed living with Micah and Nathaniel in our house. I also missed my alone time with Jean-Claude. Asher, or someone, was always with us, because we finally realized we had a spy in our midst. Or maybe that was too harsh; we had gossip. Vampires love to gossip. You'd think living so long would make them great philosophers or scholars, and a few do that, but most are just people with very long lives, and they love a good rumor. So we had to make sure the rumor mill said that Jean-Claude was spending a lot of time with the men. Which meant that suddenly I was never alone with anyone. I liked, or loved, everyone, but a little alone time with them individually would have been nice. But how the hell do you date that many men and have any privacy? No clue. And forget me having alone time with myself; that just didn't happen anymore. It was to the point that the only time I was alone was in the car going from one job to another. Things had to change, but I wasn't sure how.

But for today, all I had to do was find a serial killer. I knew I needed to see a Wiccan priestess, and the queen of all the weretigers in Vegas, or excuse me, Chang of all the tigers. I needed to do the tigers before it got too dark. I had clear-cut goals and a time constraint. When a murder investigation this awful is simpler than my love life, something has gone horribly wrong. The problem was, how did I fix what had gone wrong, and exactly what was wrong? I just knew I wasn't entirely happy, and neither were some of the men. I was beginning to realize that unhappiness might include Jean-Claude. Not good.

I got out of the car and watched the three men come toward me, their faces showing that they'd been arguing, too. Great, we could all be grumpy together.

Chapter 22

EDWARD HAD BASICALLY been telling Olaf to stay the fuck away from me. Olaf had been telling him that unless he was fucking me, it was none of his business. Oddly, if Edward had been doing me, then Olaf would have accepted that I was off limits. Apparently, it had never occurred to Edward to lie about that. I was just as glad because I could never have pretended that. Not to mention that if the rumor got back to Donna, she'd be heartbroken, and their son, Edward's stepson, Peter, would never forgive either Edward or me. It was all too weird and Freudian for me.

The good news was that the warrants would be coming soon. Edward had a fax number for the local police. "You really have worked Vegas before," I said.

He nodded.

Something occurred to me that hadn't before, and I felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. "Did you know the local executioner?"

"Yes." So, Edward, one word, simply yes.

I studied his face and knew that the sunglasses probably didn't hide anything useful in his eyes, but... I had to ask. "Did you like him?"

"He was competent."

"Not good, just competent," I said.

"He had more rules than you and I do. It limited him." His voice was utterly cool, no emotion.

"So, you'd met the dead operators, too?"

He shook his head. "Only Wizard."

"Wizard?"

"Randy Sherman."

I studied his face. "You just saw a man in the morgue who you knew, had worked with, and it didn't..." I waved my hands, as if trying to grab the right word out of the air. "Didn't it move you?" The question was inadequate, but it would have been too stupid to ask Edward if he cared.

"Only a woman would ask that," Olaf said.

I nodded. "You're absolutely right, but I am a woman, so I get to ask. It would bother me more to have looked at a man who I knew in there. It was bad enough as a stranger. I kept thinking about the SWAT guys I'd met earlier, and knew that all the dead in there had been just as tall, just as professional, just as vital, and now it was all gone."

"You'd have cared more," Edward said, "but it wouldn't have stopped you from doing your job. Sometimes you work better when you're upset."

"Do I say thanks?"

"My reaction bothers you, I get that, Anita, but I've seen a lot of men die who I knew. After a while you either deal with it better or get a desk job. I don't want a desk job."

I wanted to yell at him. Yell that I knew he cared for Donna and the kids. I was pretty sure he even cared for me, but his lack of emotion about the men in the morgue reminded me that Edward was still a mystery to me, and maybe always would be.

"Don't overthink it," Bernardo said.

I turned to him, ready to be mad, because being mad at him would be easier than yelling at Edward. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're being a girl, and you need to be the guy I know is in there, or you're going to weird yourself out about Ted here. You need to trust him, not doubt him now."

"I do trust him."

"Then let it go, Anita."

I opened my mouth, then closed it, then turned back to Edward. "I'm not going to get this, am I?"

"No," he said.

I did a pushing-away gesture. "Fine, fine, let's do something useful."

"When we serve the warrant, they'll insist that SWAT go with us. They're very serious about that here in Las Vegas." His voice was still empty, as if his emotions hadn't caught up wth him.

"We aren't hunting them. We're just gathering information. You and I both are pretty sure Max is too mainstream to approve of his people killing policemen."

"One, if we've got a warrant in hand, SWAT goes with us in Vegas. They mean that. Two, Max is well connected, Anita, which means the local cops don't want us walking in on his wife and family with a warrant of execution, and no one watching us."

"Do they really think we'd just go in there and start shooting?" I asked.

Edward looked at me. It was the most emotion I'd seen on his face in the last few minutes.

"Is my rep that bad?" I asked.

Bernardo said, "Most of the police see us as bounty hunters with badges. Cops don't like bounty hunters."

"There are going to be things that I need to say that I can't say in front of Grimes and his men," I said.

"The lieutenant probably won't be coming personally," Edward said.

"You know what I mean, Edward."

"We'll see if we can distract them for you," Edward said.

"If I am not allowed to hurt them," Olaf said, "then I will not be good at distracting them."

"Fair enough," I said.

Bernardo grinned at me. "I'll do my best, but I'm better at distracting the ladies."

"I'll see if I can get you some privacy," Edward said, and frowned at both the other men.

"Hey," Bernardo said, "I'm just being honest, but frankly I think the SWAT team is going to glue itself to Anita."

"Why me?" I asked.

"Deputy Lorenzo is friends with the woman who works in the front office for their SWAT. Did you really do a one-arm curl of two hundred sixty pounds?"

I fought to give him full eye contact. "No."

"Then what did you do?" he asked.

"A two-arm curl," I said.

Edward and Olaf were looking at me now, too. "Why would you draw that much attention to yourself?" Edward asked.

"You've seen them, Edward; if you didn't know me, would you let me serve a warrant with them?"

"You're a U.S. Marshal, Anita. It's our warrant. They're backing us up."

I shook my head. "I needed to prove to them that I could handle myself. The weights were right there. It seemed like the quickest way to settle it."

"How did you explain that you could curl almost three times your own body weight without falling over or busting something?" He sounded disgusted.

"I don't need this from you, Edward, Ted, whatever. You don't know what's it like to be the girl. To always have to prove yourself. You get tired of it."

"What did you tell them?"

"The truth."

He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"That I'm carrying different kinds of lycanthropy. Grimes had read my file, Edward, it's in there now. The Philadelphia police outed me when I ended up surviving and healing after having my skull cracked."

"You don't have a scar," he said.

"No, I don't, just like I don't have a scar from the weretiger attack in St. Louis. You've seen Peter's scars from the same beastie. It gutted me, remember?" I pulled my shirt out of my pants enough to flash my smooth, untouched stomach. "I can't play human anymore, Edward."