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"
"That's a lie," Richard said. He sat Indian fashion a little ways from me, far enough away to make sure we didn't accidentally touch but close enough that that lingering power crawled between us. I inched away and found that closer to Jean-Claude wasn't much better. Whatever it was, it wasn't a one-time deal. The potential was still there in the air, under our skins.
I looked at Richard. "You sound awfully sure that he's up to something. I'm willing to believe it. But what do you know that I don't?"
"I didn't do it. You didn't do it. I know magic when I smell it. It had to be him."
Smell it? I turned back to Jean-Claude. "Well?"
He laughed. The sound trailed down my spine like the brush of fur, soft, slick, startling. It was too soon after the rushing power we'd shared. I shuddered, and he laughed harder. It hurt and you knew you shouldn't be doing it, but it felt too good to stop. His laughter was always dangerously delicious, like poisoned candy.
"I swear by whatever oath you would trust that I did nothing on purpose."
"What did you do by accident?" I asked.
"Ask yourself the same question, ma petite . I am not the only master of the supernatural in this room."
Well, he had me there. "You're saying one of us did it."
"I am saying that I do not know who did it, nor do I know what it is. But Monsieur Zeeman is correct it was magic. Raw power to raise the hackles on any wolf."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Richard asked.
"If you could harness such power, my wolf, even Marcus might bow to it."
Richard pulled his knees up, hugging them to his chest. His eyes looked distant, thoughtful. The thought intrigued him.
"Am I the only person in this room not trying to consolidate my kingdom?"
Richard looked at me. He looked almost apologetic. "I don't want to kill Marcus. If I could make a great enough show of power, he might back down."
Jean-Claude smiled at me. It was a very satisfied smile. "You admit he is not human, and now he wants power, so he can be leader of the pack." His smile widened just this short of a laugh.
"I didn't know you were a fan of sixties music," I said.
"There are many things you do not know about me, ma petite ."
I just stared at him. The image of Jean-Claude boogying down to the Shangri-Las was stranger than anything I'd seen tonight. After all I believed in nagas, I didn't believe that Jean-Claude had hobbies.
31
A hot bath. Once more in the oversize T-shirt, sweatpants, and socks.
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