"It's not punishment," I said, and my voice sounded strange, strangled.
He gave a sad smile and flung his hair over the scarred side of his face, so he stared at me with nothing but that perfect profile showing. "To quote you, ma cherie, the hell it is not." He turned and strode for the door.
I called after him. "Asher, please..." But he didn't stop. The door closed behind him, and the room filled with a profound silence.
Jean-Claude spoke into that silence, and his soft voice made me jump. "Gather your things, Anita, and go."
I looked at him, then, and my pulse was in my throat, and I was afraid, really afraid. "Are you kicking me out?" My voice didn't even sound like me.
"Non, but at this moment I need to be alone."
"You haven't fed, yet."
"Are you saying you would willingly feed me, now?" He didn't look at me as he asked it. He was staring at the floor.
"Actually, I'm sort of not in the mood anymore," I said, and my voice was fighting to get back to normal. Jean-Claude wasn't kicking me out of his life, but I didn't like that he wouldn't look at me.
"I will feed, but it will be only for food, and you are not food. So, please, go."
"Jean-Claude..."
"Just go, Anita, go. I need you not to be here right now. I need to not have to look at you, right now." The first stirrings of anger had trickled into his voice, like a fuse freshly lit and running with fire, but not truly burning up, not yet.
"Would saying I'm sorry help?" My voice was small when I asked.
"That you understand that you have something to apologize for is a beginning, but it is not enough, not today." He looked at me then, and his eyes glistened in the lights, not with power, but with unshed tears. "Besides, it is not me that you owe the apology to. Now go, before I say something that we will both regret."
I opened my mouth, drew a breath to reply, but he held up a hand and said, simply, "No."
I gathered my gun and shoulder holster from the bathroom. The wet clothes I left on the floor of the bathroom. I didn't look back, and I didn't try to kiss him good-bye. I think if I'd tried to touch him, he'd have hurt me. I don't mean struck me, but there are a thousand ways to hurt someone you love that have nothing to do with physical violence. There were words trapped in his eyes, a world of pain shining there. I didn't want to hear those words. I didn't want to feel that pain. I didn't want to see it, or touch it, or have it rubbed in the wounds in my own heart right that moment. I believed I was right, and a girl's got to have some standards. I don't let the vamps fuck with my mind, they just get my body. It had seemed a good rule an hour ago.
I shut the door behind me, leaned into it, and fought to take a breath that didn't shake. My world had been more solid an hour ago.
33
I was still leaning against the door, shaking, when Nathaniel came up to me. I didn't see him at first, even though he was standing right in front of me. I was staring at the floor, and I saw his jogging shoes, his legs, his shorts, before I looked slowly up and found his face. It felt like it took a long time to look up his body, and find that familiar face with those lilac eyes.
"Anita..." his voice was soft.
I held out a hand, because if anyone was nice to me, I was going to fall apart. I couldn't afford that right now. If Asher was up, then probably so was Musette. Normally, the thought would have been enough to let me check on a nearby vampire. Today, it was empty. I was empty. I was what Marianne, my psychic teacher, called head blind. It happens sometimes if you've had a shock; physical, emotional, whatever. I wouldn't be worth shit for metaphysical stuff until this wore off-if it wore off. Right that second it felt like the world should open up at my feet and swallow me down the great black hole that was eating through my heart.
"What is it, Nathaniel?" My voice was a bare whisper. I cleared my throat, sharply, to repeat it, but he'd heard.
"The two men that were following us in the blue Jeep are outside watching the back parking lot. They've got a different car, but it's still them."
I nodded, and the black hole at my feet began to close. I still hurt, and I was still head blind, but for this it didn't matter. Guns don't care if you're psychically gifted. Guns don't care about anything. They don't bitch at you about the rules in your personal life, either. Of course, neither does a dog, but I don't have to use a pooper-scooper after I'm through shooting my gun. Sometimes a body bag is needed, but that's not usually my job.
I was feeling better. Steadier. This I could do. "Find Bobby Lee, I want the best people he's got for car work."
"Car work?" Nathaniel made it a question.