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Blue Moon :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 41 из 327"
I nodded, and we walked to the door. "If I didn't know better, I'd say Shang-Da doesn't like me."
"He's loyal to Richard, and you've hurt him — badly."
I glanced at him. "You don't seem mad at me. Aren't you loyal to Richard?"
"I was there the night Richard fought Marcus. Shang-Da wasn't."
"Are you saying I was right to leave Richard?"
"No. I'm saying I understand why you couldn't handle it."
"Thanks, Jason."
He smiled. "Besides, maybe I have designs on your body."
"Jean-Claude would kill you."
He shrugged. "What's life without a little danger?"
I shook my head.
Jason got to the door first but didn't try to open it for me. He knew me better than that.
I opened the mostly glass doors. I guess the doors were also a clue. Everything else on the street had doors like you'd see on a house. The glass doors were modern business doors. The interior was painted white, including the long barlike desk across from the door. There were some wanted posters tacked to a bulletin board to the left of the door and a radio system behind the desk, but other than that, it could have been the reception room for a dentist.
The guy sitting behind the desk was big. Even sitting down, you had a sense of size. His shoulders were almost as broad as I was tall. His hair was very short and still curled in tight ringlets. He'd have had to shave his head to get rid of the curls.
My executioner's license is in a nice fake-leather carrying case. It had my picture on it and looked damned official, but it wasn't a badge. It wasn't even a license good in this state. But it was all I had to flash, so I flashed it. I went in, holding the license out in front, because I was bringing a gun into a police station. Cops tended not to like that.
"I'm Anita Blake, vampire executioner."
The cop moved just his eyes; his hands were hidden behind the desk. "We didn't call for an executioner."
"I'm not here on official business," I said. I stood in front of the desk. I started to put the license away, but he held his hand out for it, and I gave it to him.
He studied the license while he asked, "Why are you here?"
"I'm a friend of Richard Zeeman."
His grey eyes flicked up then. It wasn't a friendly look. He tossed the license back on top of the desk.
I picked it up. "Is there a problem, Officer … " I read his nameplate, " … Maiden?"
He shook his head. "No problem except that your friend is a damned rapist.
I nodded, and we walked to the door. "If I didn't know better, I'd say Shang-Da doesn't like me."
"He's loyal to Richard, and you've hurt him — badly."
I glanced at him. "You don't seem mad at me. Aren't you loyal to Richard?"
"I was there the night Richard fought Marcus. Shang-Da wasn't."
"Are you saying I was right to leave Richard?"
"No. I'm saying I understand why you couldn't handle it."
"Thanks, Jason."
He smiled. "Besides, maybe I have designs on your body."
"Jean-Claude would kill you."
He shrugged. "What's life without a little danger?"
I shook my head.
Jason got to the door first but didn't try to open it for me. He knew me better than that.
I opened the mostly glass doors. I guess the doors were also a clue. Everything else on the street had doors like you'd see on a house. The glass doors were modern business doors. The interior was painted white, including the long barlike desk across from the door. There were some wanted posters tacked to a bulletin board to the left of the door and a radio system behind the desk, but other than that, it could have been the reception room for a dentist.
The guy sitting behind the desk was big. Even sitting down, you had a sense of size. His shoulders were almost as broad as I was tall. His hair was very short and still curled in tight ringlets. He'd have had to shave his head to get rid of the curls.
My executioner's license is in a nice fake-leather carrying case. It had my picture on it and looked damned official, but it wasn't a badge. It wasn't even a license good in this state. But it was all I had to flash, so I flashed it. I went in, holding the license out in front, because I was bringing a gun into a police station. Cops tended not to like that.
"I'm Anita Blake, vampire executioner."
The cop moved just his eyes; his hands were hidden behind the desk. "We didn't call for an executioner."
"I'm not here on official business," I said. I stood in front of the desk. I started to put the license away, but he held his hand out for it, and I gave it to him.
He studied the license while he asked, "Why are you here?"
"I'm a friend of Richard Zeeman."
His grey eyes flicked up then. It wasn't a friendly look. He tossed the license back on top of the desk.
I picked it up. "Is there a problem, Officer … " I read his nameplate, " … Maiden?"
He shook his head. "No problem except that your friend is a damned rapist.