Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, Book 14. Danse Macabre(116)
Requiem's thumb began to make little circles on my hand, as if just being held wasn't enough.
«It's almost as if she's bespelled him,» Elinore said, «as if she were the vampire and he the human.»
«Fine, treat it like it's vampire mind tricks; how do I undo it?»
«A vampire's master can sometimes break such enchantments,» Elinore said.
I looked at Jean-Claude. «Help him.»
London stepped back to the edge of the light. «But it is not Anita's ardeur, but Jean-Claude's ardeur through her. He cannot fix his own ardeur, can he?»
«I do not know,» Elinore said. She looked around the room and spoke toward the wall farthest from the door. «Wicked, Truth, you have been very silent through this discussion. Do you have any suggestions?»
The two brothers came forward into the stronger light near the bed. At first glance they didn't look that alike. They were both tall and broad-shouldered, but beyond that they were opposites. Wicked's hair was sleek and very blond, cut long so it framed a face that was all high, sculpted cheekbones, complete with a dimple in his chin deep enough that I could never decide if it looked adorable or painful. His eyes were a clear steady blue, and if I hadn't had Jean-Claude's and Requiem's eyes to compare him to, I'd have said his eyes were striking. He wore a modern tailored suit of tans and creams that made him look halfway between the college professor of your dreams and an executive gigolo. Then there was Truth.
Truth had obviously slept in his clothes. The clothes were made up of bits of leather, but not fashionable club wear, no, more like boiled leather worn smooth and soft with use and wear. His pants were tucked into boots so battered that Jean-Claude had offered to replace them, but Truth wouldn't give them up. He could have been dressed for any century from thirteenth to fifteenth. His straight brown hair was shoulder length, but stringy, as if it needed a good brushing. He didn't exactly have a beard, just stubble, as if he hadn't shaved for a while. But under all that disarray was the same bone structure, the same cleft chin, and the same blue eyes. Wicked's eyes always seemed to hold a cynical joy, but Truth's looked tired and wary, as if he was just waiting for us to disappoint him.
«What do you want from us?» Truth asked, and his voice was already defensive, as if he was ready for an argument.
Elinore uncurled from her chair and moved to stand on the other side of Jean-Claude, not quite to where London was standing, but so she could see the brothers more clearly. «You have been masterless for longer than any other master vampire. Surely, in all those centuries, some powerful vampire tried to capture the great warriors Wicked and Truth. Have you been bespelled as Requiem is?»
Wicked laughed. «Save the flattery, Elinore; we'll help if we can, if Anita tells us plainly what she wants from us.» He turned those laughing eyes to me. Truth's somber eyes followed his brother's gaze.
I met their eyes. Wicked looked like it was all a big joke, which I'd finally realized was his blank face. Truth looked calmer, blanker, but he was ready to be disappointed in me. Certainty that I would not live up to his expectations was clear on his face.
«Isn't it Jean-Claude's order you need?» Elinore asked.
Truth shook his head. Wicked said, «No.»
«No,» Jean-Claude said.
«No,» Wicked repeated, and he allowed himself a small, tasteful smirk of satisfaction.
«Who is your master?» Elinore asked.
«They are,» and Truth motioned at both Jean-Claude and me.
«Then why is Jean-Claude's order not good enough?» she asked.
«He hasn't bespelled Requiem; she has,» Truth said.
«You do not agree with London that it is Jean-Claude's ardeur flowing through Anita.»
They both shook their heads, and the movement was so well-timed that you could suddenly see how identical they almost were.
Wicked spoke for them. «Anita's will, her intent, is what we need.» He stared at me. «What is your will, Anita?»
«To have him free of me.»
«Would you undo the blood oath and cast him back to Belle Morte?» Wicked asked.
Requiem clutched at my hand. «Please, mistress, not that.»
I patted his shoulder. «No, Requiem, you're not going back to Belle. We would never let that happen.» He calmed almost instantly, and he shouldn't have. That much panic shouldn't have just vanished. It was just another sign of how far gone he was.
«Be careful with your words,» said Truth, «for they are dangerous things.»
I thought before I spoke the next time. «I want him to have choices. I don't want all his free will sucked away like this.»