JК
Cerulean Sins :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 24 из 352He'd also spoken in French, which meant he was scaredenough, or angry enough, to have forgotten his English. Something was very wrong, but I couldn't question him, not yet. First, get out of the line of fire, then fix the rest.
We were standing so close together that his wavy golden hair brushed against my own black curls. He put his hands on my shoulders, and I could feel the tension. He was scared. What had happened?
The police had convinced the bodyguards to put their guns away. The uniforms divided up and walked the two interested parties back to their respective cars. It left Nicols, the judge, and the court reporter standing near us. At least the court reporter wasn't still typing.
Nicols turned to me, his gun pointed downward, tapping a little against the leg of his slacks. He frowned, eyes flicking to Asher, then to me. He knew enough not to risk staring the vampire in the eyes. They could bespell you with their eyes, if they wanted to. I was immune because I was the human servant of the Master Vampire of the City. Through Jean-Claude I was safe from most of what Asher could do. Not all, but most.
Nicols was obviously unhappy. "Okay, what was so damned urgent that he had to fly in here like that?"
Damn, he was too good a cop. Even though he'd probably dealt very little with vampires, he'd made the logic jump that only an emergency would make Asher appear as he had.
His eyes flicked up to Asher again, then down to my face. "It's a good way to get yourself shot, Mr.…"
"Asher," I answered for him.
"I didn't ask you, Ms. Blake. I asked him."
"I am Asher," he said in a voice that fell on the air like a caress. He was using vampire powers to make himself more acceptable. If Nicols figured out what he was doing, it would backfire. But it didn't.
"What's wrong, Mr. Asher?"
"Just Asher," and the voice glided across my skin so soothing. I had some immunity to the voice, but Nicols didn't.
He blinked, then frowned, puzzled. "Fine, Asher, what the hell is the rush?"
Asher's fingers tightened minutely on my shoulders, and I felt him take a breath. I had a second to hope that he wasn't going to try an Obi-Wan on Lieutenant Nicols. You know, these are not the droids you're looking for. Nicols was stronger willed than that.
"Musette has been gravely injured. I came to take Anita to her side."
I felt the color drain from my face, my breath caught in my throat. Musette was one of Belle Morte's lieutenants. Belle Morte was the fountainhead, le sourdre de sang of Jean-Claude and Asher's bloodline.
We were standing so close together that his wavy golden hair brushed against my own black curls. He put his hands on my shoulders, and I could feel the tension. He was scared. What had happened?
The police had convinced the bodyguards to put their guns away. The uniforms divided up and walked the two interested parties back to their respective cars. It left Nicols, the judge, and the court reporter standing near us. At least the court reporter wasn't still typing.
Nicols turned to me, his gun pointed downward, tapping a little against the leg of his slacks. He frowned, eyes flicking to Asher, then to me. He knew enough not to risk staring the vampire in the eyes. They could bespell you with their eyes, if they wanted to. I was immune because I was the human servant of the Master Vampire of the City. Through Jean-Claude I was safe from most of what Asher could do. Not all, but most.
Nicols was obviously unhappy. "Okay, what was so damned urgent that he had to fly in here like that?"
Damn, he was too good a cop. Even though he'd probably dealt very little with vampires, he'd made the logic jump that only an emergency would make Asher appear as he had.
His eyes flicked up to Asher again, then down to my face. "It's a good way to get yourself shot, Mr.…"
"Asher," I answered for him.
"I didn't ask you, Ms. Blake. I asked him."
"I am Asher," he said in a voice that fell on the air like a caress. He was using vampire powers to make himself more acceptable. If Nicols figured out what he was doing, it would backfire. But it didn't.
"What's wrong, Mr. Asher?"
"Just Asher," and the voice glided across my skin so soothing. I had some immunity to the voice, but Nicols didn't.
He blinked, then frowned, puzzled. "Fine, Asher, what the hell is the rush?"
Asher's fingers tightened minutely on my shoulders, and I felt him take a breath. I had a second to hope that he wasn't going to try an Obi-Wan on Lieutenant Nicols. You know, these are not the droids you're looking for. Nicols was stronger willed than that.
"Musette has been gravely injured. I came to take Anita to her side."
I felt the color drain from my face, my breath caught in my throat. Musette was one of Belle Morte's lieutenants. Belle Morte was the fountainhead, le sourdre de sang of Jean-Claude and Asher's bloodline.