JК
The Laughing Corpse :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 149 из 213" Her voice was squeezed small and thin with fear.
I hated Jean-Claude in that moment. And I hated me. I was one of the good guys. It was one of my last illusions. I wasn't willing to give it up, not even if it worked. Wanda would talk or she wouldn't. No torture. "Back off, Jean-Claude," I said.
He gazed up at me. "I can taste her terror like strong wine." His eyes were solid, drowning blue. He looked blind. His face was still lovely as he opened his mouth wide and fangs glistened.
Wanda was still crying and staring at me. If she could have seen the look on Jean-Claude's face, she would have, been screaming.
"I thought your control was better than this, Jean-Claude?"
"My control is excellent, but it is not endless." He stood away from her and began to pace the room on the other side of the couch. Like a leopard pacing its cage. Contained violence, waiting for release. I could not see his face. Had the spook act been for Wanda's benefit? Or real?
I shook my head. No way to ask in front of Wanda. Maybe later. Maybe.
I knelt in front of Wanda. She was gripping the soda can so hard, she was denting it. I didn't touch her, just knelt close by. "I won't let him hurt you. Honest. Harold Gaynor is threatening me. That's why I need information."
Wanda was looking at me, but her attention was on the vampire in back of her. There was a watchful tension in her shoulders. She would never relax while Jean-Claude was in the room. The lady had taste.
"Jean-Claude, Jean-Claude."
His face looked as ordinary as it ever did when he turned to face me. A smile crooked his full lips. It was an act. Pretense. Damn him. Was there something in becoming a vampire that made you sadistic?
"Go into the bedroom for a while. Wanda and I need to talk in private."
"Your bedroom." His smile widened. "My pleasure, ma petite."
I scowled at him. He was undaunted. As always. But he left the room as I'd asked.
Wanda's shoulders slumped. She drew a shaky breath. "You really aren't going to let him hurt me, are you?"
"No, I'm not."
She started to cry then, soft, shaky tears. I didn't know what to do. I've never known what to do when someone cries. Did I hug her? Pat her hand comfortingly. What?
I finally sat back on the ground in front of her, leaning back on my heels, and did nothing. It took a few moments, but finally the crying stopped. She blinked up at me. The makeup around her eyes had faded, just vanished. It made her look vulnerable, more rather than less attractive.
I hated Jean-Claude in that moment. And I hated me. I was one of the good guys. It was one of my last illusions. I wasn't willing to give it up, not even if it worked. Wanda would talk or she wouldn't. No torture. "Back off, Jean-Claude," I said.
He gazed up at me. "I can taste her terror like strong wine." His eyes were solid, drowning blue. He looked blind. His face was still lovely as he opened his mouth wide and fangs glistened.
Wanda was still crying and staring at me. If she could have seen the look on Jean-Claude's face, she would have, been screaming.
"I thought your control was better than this, Jean-Claude?"
"My control is excellent, but it is not endless." He stood away from her and began to pace the room on the other side of the couch. Like a leopard pacing its cage. Contained violence, waiting for release. I could not see his face. Had the spook act been for Wanda's benefit? Or real?
I shook my head. No way to ask in front of Wanda. Maybe later. Maybe.
I knelt in front of Wanda. She was gripping the soda can so hard, she was denting it. I didn't touch her, just knelt close by. "I won't let him hurt you. Honest. Harold Gaynor is threatening me. That's why I need information."
Wanda was looking at me, but her attention was on the vampire in back of her. There was a watchful tension in her shoulders. She would never relax while Jean-Claude was in the room. The lady had taste.
"Jean-Claude, Jean-Claude."
His face looked as ordinary as it ever did when he turned to face me. A smile crooked his full lips. It was an act. Pretense. Damn him. Was there something in becoming a vampire that made you sadistic?
"Go into the bedroom for a while. Wanda and I need to talk in private."
"Your bedroom." His smile widened. "My pleasure, ma petite."
I scowled at him. He was undaunted. As always. But he left the room as I'd asked.
Wanda's shoulders slumped. She drew a shaky breath. "You really aren't going to let him hurt me, are you?"
"No, I'm not."
She started to cry then, soft, shaky tears. I didn't know what to do. I've never known what to do when someone cries. Did I hug her? Pat her hand comfortingly. What?
I finally sat back on the ground in front of her, leaning back on my heels, and did nothing. It took a few moments, but finally the crying stopped. She blinked up at me. The makeup around her eyes had faded, just vanished. It made her look vulnerable, more rather than less attractive.