JК
Burnt Offerings :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 89 из 286"Oh, ma petite , you above all should know that is not true."
"I thought you said they couldn't kill us tonight," I said.
"So I thought," he said.
Great. Every time I thought I understood the rules, they changed. Why was it that the damn rules always seemed to change for the worse?
17
Willie came over to us, leading Hannah by the hand. "Thank you, master, Anita."
There were gashes in his thin face, part of the initial fight for the Circus, I guess. They were already healing. He looked awful, even more like the walking dead than usual. "You look like hell," I said.
He grinned at me, flashing fang. He hadn't been dead three years yet. It takes a little practice to smile without flashing fang. "I'm okay." He looked at Jean-Claude. "I tried to stop them. We all did."
Jean-Claude had tucked his shirt back in his pants. He smoothed his hands down the front of the shirt and touched Willie's shoulder. "You fought the council, Willie. Win or lose, you did well."
"Thanks, master."
Jean-Claude usually corrected anyone when they called him master, but tonight, I guess we were going formal.
"Come, we must attend Damian." He offered me his wrist, and when I didn't know quite what he wanted, he laid my fingertips over the pulse. "You touch me as if you were taking my pulse."
"Is there some significance to this?"
"It shows that you are more than my servant or my bed partner. It shows I consider you an equal."
"What will the council think about that?" I asked.
"It will force them to negotiate not only with me, but with you. It will complicate things for them and give us more options."
I rested my hand on his wrist. His pulse was steady under my fingers. "Confusion to our enemies, eh?"
He nodded, making it almost a bow. "Indeed, ma petite , indeed."
I walked beside him towards the hallway, my right hand in my pocket on the Browning, which I'd rescued from the floor. When we got a clear view of the hallway, Jean-Claude's pulse sped under my fingers.
Damian lay on his side curled around a sword. Blood had soaked around the blade into the dark material of the vest he wore as a shirt. The point came out his back. He'd been spitted. Hard to be a hundred percent sure, but it looked like a heart blow.
There was a new vampire standing beside him. He held a two-handed sword in his hands, point down, like a cane. I recognized the sword. It was the one Damian slept with in his coffin.
The new vamp was tall, six foot six or more, broad-shouldered.
"I thought you said they couldn't kill us tonight," I said.
"So I thought," he said.
Great. Every time I thought I understood the rules, they changed. Why was it that the damn rules always seemed to change for the worse?
17
Willie came over to us, leading Hannah by the hand. "Thank you, master, Anita."
There were gashes in his thin face, part of the initial fight for the Circus, I guess. They were already healing. He looked awful, even more like the walking dead than usual. "You look like hell," I said.
He grinned at me, flashing fang. He hadn't been dead three years yet. It takes a little practice to smile without flashing fang. "I'm okay." He looked at Jean-Claude. "I tried to stop them. We all did."
Jean-Claude had tucked his shirt back in his pants. He smoothed his hands down the front of the shirt and touched Willie's shoulder. "You fought the council, Willie. Win or lose, you did well."
"Thanks, master."
Jean-Claude usually corrected anyone when they called him master, but tonight, I guess we were going formal.
"Come, we must attend Damian." He offered me his wrist, and when I didn't know quite what he wanted, he laid my fingertips over the pulse. "You touch me as if you were taking my pulse."
"Is there some significance to this?"
"It shows that you are more than my servant or my bed partner. It shows I consider you an equal."
"What will the council think about that?" I asked.
"It will force them to negotiate not only with me, but with you. It will complicate things for them and give us more options."
I rested my hand on his wrist. His pulse was steady under my fingers. "Confusion to our enemies, eh?"
He nodded, making it almost a bow. "Indeed, ma petite , indeed."
I walked beside him towards the hallway, my right hand in my pocket on the Browning, which I'd rescued from the floor. When we got a clear view of the hallway, Jean-Claude's pulse sped under my fingers.
Damian lay on his side curled around a sword. Blood had soaked around the blade into the dark material of the vest he wore as a shirt. The point came out his back. He'd been spitted. Hard to be a hundred percent sure, but it looked like a heart blow.
There was a new vampire standing beside him. He held a two-handed sword in his hands, point down, like a cane. I recognized the sword. It was the one Damian slept with in his coffin.
The new vamp was tall, six foot six or more, broad-shouldered.