Bloody Bones(66)

"So a werewolf, and what... me?"

He sighed. "Yes, ma petite, whether you bear my marks or not, most consider you my human servant." He raised a hand. "Please, Anita, I know you are not my human servant in the technical sense. But you have helped me defend my territory. You have killed to protect me. That is the best definition of what a human servant does."

"So, what? I have to pretend to be your human servant on this visit?"

"Something like that," he said.

"Forget it."

"Anita, I need a show of strength here. Branson was part of Nikolaos's territory. I gave it up because the population density could support another group. But it was still my land, and now it's not. Some view that as weakness rather than practicality."

"So without any marks at all you've finally got me to play servant for you. You manipulative son of a bitch."

"You asked me down here, ma petite." A thread of warmth cut through his words. He stalked towards me. "I am doing you a favor, do not forget that."

"I don't think you'll let me forget," I said.

He made a harsh sound, as if he had no words for his anger. "Why do I put up with you? You insult me at every turn. There are many who would give their souls for what I offer you."

He stood in front of me, eyes like dark sapphires, skin white as marble. His skin glowed like there was a light inside him. He looked like some kind of live sculpture made of light, jewels, and stone.

He was impressive and scary, but I'd seen it before. "Cut the vampire powers shit, Jean-Claude. It's almost dawn; don't you have a coffin to crawl into somewhere?"

He laughed, but it wasn't pleasant, it was bitter like the touch of steel wool. Something to irritate rather than entice. "Our luggage has not arrived, has it, my wolf?"

"No, master," Jason said.

"Your coffin hasn't arrived?" I asked.

"Either I have chosen a very lax skycab, or..." He let the words trail off, face bland and pleasant.

"Or what?" Larry asked.

"Ma petite."

"You think the local master took your coffin," I said.

"A punishment for entering her territory without observing all the social niceties." He looked at me when he said it.

"I suppose that's my fault," I said.

He gave that infuriating shrug. "I could have said no, ma petite."

"Stop being so civilized about it."

"Would you be happier if I was angry?" His voice was very mild when he said it.

"Maybe," I said. It would have made me feel less guilty, but I didn't say that out loud.

"Go to the airport and find our luggage if you can, Jason. Bring it back to Anita's room."

"Wait a minute. You are not moving into my room."

"It is nearly dawn, ma petite. I have no choice. Tomorrow we will find other accommodations."

"You planned this."

He gave a short, bitter laugh. "Even my deviousness knows some bounds, ma petite. I would not willingly be without my coffin this close to dawn."

"What are you going to do without your coffin?" Larry asked. He looked anxious.

Jean-Claude smiled. "Do not fear, Lawrence, all I need is darkness, or rather lack of sunlight. The coffin itself is not absolutely necessary, simply more secure."

"I've never known a vampire that didn't sleep in a coffin," I said.

"If I am underground in a secure place, I forego my coffin. Though truthfully, once daylight finds me I am insensible and could sleep on a bed of nails and not know it."

I wasn't sure I believed him. He worked harder than most at passing for human. "You will see the truth of my words soon enough, ma petite."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I said.

"You can sleep on the couch if you prefer, but I am telling you truly that once full daylight arrives I will be harmless, helpless if you like. I would be unable to molest you even if I wanted to."

"And what other fairy tales am I supposed to believe? I've seen you move around after dawn, hidden from light, but you worked just fine."

"After eight hours or so of sleep, if it is still daylight I can move around, true, but I doubt you will stay abed for eight hours. You have clients or something, a murder investigation, some business that will take you out and about."

"If I leave you alone, who'll see that some maid doesn't come in, pull the curtains back and French fry you?"

The smile widened. "Concern over my well-being. I am touched."

I looked at him. He looked pleasant, amused, but it was a mask. His expression when he didn't want you to know what he was thinking, but didn't want you to know that he didn't want you to know. "What are you up to?"