He sighed. "You are a necromancer, ma petite, and your power grows with use."
"Why would that scare a six-hundred-year-old vampire?"
"You are relentless, ma petite."
"It's one of my best things."
"If I answer your question, will you enjoy my club with me, be my date until the assassin shows up?"
"Thanks for reminding me."
"You had not forgotten."
"No, I hadn't. So, yeah, answer my question and I'll play date."
"Play?"
"Stop stalling and answer the question." I thought of one other question I wanted answered. "Two questions."
He raised his eyebrows, but nodded. "Vampires are given powers in folklore and popular myth that we do not possess: controlling weather, shapeshifting into animals. Necromancers are supposedly able to control all types of undead."
"Control? You don't mean just zombies, do you?"
"No, ma petite."
"So Liv's afraid I'll take her over?"
"Something like that."
"But that's crazy. I can't order vampires around." The moment I said it, I wished I hadn't. It wasn't true. I had raised a vampire once. Once. Once had been enough.
Something must have shown on my face, because Jean-Claude touched my cheek.
"What is it, ma petite? What fills your eyes with such... horror?"
I opened my mouth and lied. "If I could order vampires around, Serephina wouldn't have cleaned my clock two months ago."
His face softened. "She is dead, ma petite. Well and truly dead. You saw to that." He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. His lips were silken soft. He brushed his lips across my forehead, moving his body in closer, comforting me.
It made me feel guilty as hell. I did still have nightmares about Serephina, that much was true. Just saying her name out loud made my stomach clench. Of all the vampires I'd faced, she'd come the closest to getting me. Not killing me, that would happen sooner or later. No, she had nearly made me one of them. Nearly made me want to be one of them. She had offered me something more precious than sex or power. She'd offered me peace. It had been a lie, but as lies go, it had been a good one.
Why not tell Jean-Claude the truth? Well, it was none of his damn business. Frankly, what I'd done frightened me. I didn't want to deal with it. Didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to know what the philosophical ramifications of raising a vampire during daylight hours might be. I was very good at ignoring things I didn't want to deal with.
"Ma petite, you are trembling." He pushed me back from him to search my face.
I shook my head. "There's an assassin out to kill me, and you ask why I'm trembling."
"I know you too well, ma petite. That is not why you tremble."
"I don't like you using me like some kind of bogeyman for vampires. I'm not that scary."
"No, but I have encouraged the illusion."
I pushed away from him. "You mean, you've been telling other vamps that I could control vampires?"
"A hint or two." He smiled, and in that one simple expression, you just knew he was thinking wicked thoughts.
"Why, for heaven's sake?"
"I have taken a lesson from our diplomatic Richard. He has won over many wolves by simply promising to treat them well, not to force them to do things they do not want to do."
"So?" I said.
"I have invited vampires to join my flock with the promise not of fear and intimidation but of safety."
"Like Liv?" He nodded.
"How do you make sure they don't stage a palace revolt?" I asked.
"There are ways."
"Like threatening them with a necromancer," I said.
He smiled. "Indeed."
"Not everyone will believe it."
"I know I don't," a voice said.
15
I turned to find another new vampire. He was tall and slender with skin the color of clean white sheets, but sheets didn't have muscle moving underneath, sheets didn't glide down the steps and pad godlike across a room. His hair fell past his shoulders, a red so pure it was nearly the color of blood. The color screamed against his paleness. He was wearing a black frock coat like something out of the 1700s, but his chest gleamed lean and na**d inside it. The heavy cloth was nearly covered in thick embroidery, a green so vivid it gleamed. The embroidery matched his eyes. Green as a cat's eyes, green as an emerald. From the waist down, he was wearing green lycra exercise pants that left little to the imagination. A sash was tied at his waist like a pirate belt, black with green fringe. Knee-high black boots completed the outfit.
I thought I knew all the bloodsuckers in town, but here were two new ones in less than two minutes. "How many new vampires are in the city?" I asked.
"A few," Jean-Claude said. "This is Damian. Damian, this is Anita."
"I feel silly in this outfit," he said.
"But you look splendid, doesn't he, ma petite?"
I nodded. "Splendid is one way of putting it."
Jean-Claude walked around the new vampire, flicking imaginary specks of lint from the coat. "Don't you approve, Anita?"
I sighed. "It's just..." I shrugged. "Why do you make everyone around you dress like they stepped out of a sexual fantasy with a high costume budget?"
He laughed, and the sound wrapped around me, tugged at things lower than he'd ever gotten to touch. "Stop that," I said.
"You enjoy it, ma petite."
"Maybe, but stop it anyway."
"Jean-Claude has always had a killer fashion sense," Damian said, "and sex was always one of his favorite pastimes, wasn't it?" There was something about the way he said that last that made it not a compliment.
Jean-Claude faced him. "And yet, for all my foppish ways, here you are, in my lands, seeking my protection."
The pupils in Damian's eyes were swallowed by a rush of green fire. "Thank you so much for reminding me."
"Remember who is master here, Damian, or you will be banished. The council themselves interceded with your old master, rescued you from her. She did not want to give you up. I spoke for you. I ransomed you because I remember what it was like to be trapped. To be forced to do things you didn't want to do. To be used and tormented."
Damian stood a little straighter but didn't look away. "You've made your point. I am... grateful to be here." He looked away, then to the floor, and a shudder ran through him. "I am glad to be free of her." When he looked back up, his eyes had returned to normal. He managed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Wearing a few costumes is not the worst thing I've ever done."
There was a sorrow to his voice that made me want to ask Jean-Claude to let him change into a pair of pants, but I didn't. Jean-Claude was walking a very fine line here. Damian was over five hundred years old. He wasn't a master, but that was still a hell of a lot of power. Jean-Claude might be able to handle Liv and Damian, but if there were more, Master of the City or not, he wasn't up to the job. Which meant these little dominance games were necessary. The others couldn't be allowed to forget who was Master, because once they did, he was done for. If he'd asked for my vote before he put out the invitations, I'd have said no.
A door at the far side of the room opened. It was a black door in the black walls, and it seemed almost magical as a woman stepped out. She was about my own height, with wavy, waist-length brown hair that foamed over the shoulders of her ankle-length black coat. She was wearing a pair of hot turquoise exercise pants with a matching sports bra. Crisscrossing straps went from pants to the bra, emphasizing her small waist. Black vinyl boots reached to her knees, with a small projection that covered the knees. She walked down the steps and strode across the floor with a free-swinging walk that was almost a run. She entered the room like it was her room, or maybe she was her own room, comfortable wherever she went.
She stopped by us, smiling, pleasant, hazel eyes greener because of the strip of turquoise around her neck. "What do you think?"
"You look lovely, Cassandra," Jean-Claude said.
"You look better in yours than I do in mine," Damian said.
"That's a matter of opinion," I said.
The woman looked at me. Her eyes flicked down the length of Damian's body. She met my eyes, and we both laughed.
Damian looked puzzled. Jean-Claude looked at me. "Share your humor with us, ma petite, please."