Guilty Pleasures

The doorbell was buzzing. I scrambled out of bed, forgetting. I gasped. I had moved too fast for the beating I’d had last night. I ached all over in places I couldn’t possibly be bruised. My hands were stiff with dried blood. They felt arthritic.

The doorbell was buzzing continuously as if someone was leaning against it. Whoever it was, was going to get a hug for waking me up. I was sleeping in an oversized shirt. Pulling last night’s jeans on was my version of a robe.

I put Sigmund the stuffed penguin back with all the rest. The stuffed toys sat on a small loveseat against the far wall, under the window. Penguins lined the floor around it like a plump fuzzy tide.

It hurt to move. It even felt tight when I breathed. I yelled, “I’m coming.” It occurred to me, halfway to the door, that it might be someone unfriendly. I padded back into the bedroom and got my gun. My hand felt stiff and awkward around it. I should have cleaned and bandaged the hands last night. Oh, well.

I knelt behind the chair Edward had moved in front of the door and called, “Who is it?”

“It’s Ro

It was Saturday. I had forgotten. It was always amazing how ordinary life was, even while people were trying to hurt you. I felt like Ro

My family does not cope well with what I do, the chances I take, the injuries. So they ignore it as best they can. Except for my sixteen-year-old stepbrother. Josh thinks I’m cool, neat, whatever word they’re using now.

Veronica Sims is different. She’s my friend, and she understands. Ro

I opened the door and let her in, gun limp at my side. She took it all in and said, “Shit, you look awful.”

I smiled. “Well, at least I took like I feel.”

She came in and dropped her gym bag in front of the chair. “Can you tell me what happened?” Not a demand, a question. Ro

“Sorry that I won’t be able to work out today.”

“Looks like you had all the workout you can handle. Go soak those hands in the sink. I’ll make coffee. Okay?”

I nodded and regretted it. Aspirins, aspirins sounded real good right now. I stopped just before I went into the bathroom. “Ro

“Yes.” She stood there in my small kitchen, a measuring cup of fresh coffee beans in one hand. She was five-nine. Sometimes, I forget how tall that is. It amazes people that we can run together. The trick is I set the pace, and I push myself. It’s a very good workout.

“I think I have some bagels in the fridge. Could you pop them in the microwave with some cheese?”

She stared at me. “I’ve known you for three years, and this is the first time I’ve ever heard you ask for food before ten o’clock.”

“Listen, if it’s too much trouble, forget it.”

“It isn’t that, and you know it.”

“Sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Go doctor yourself, then you can tell me about it. Okay”

“Yeah.” Soaking the hands did not make them feel better. It felt like I was peeling the skin off my fingers. I patted them dry and rubbed Neosporin ointment over the scrapes. “A topical antibacterial,” the label read. By the time I finished all the Band-Aids, I looked like a pinkish-tan version of the mummy’s hand.

My back was a mass of dark bruises. My ribs were decorated in putrid purple. There wasn’t much I could do about it, except hope the aspirin kicked in. Well, there was one thing I could do—move. Stretching exercises would limber the body and give me movement without pain, sort of. The stretching itself would feel like torture. I’d do it later. I needed to eat first.

I was starving. Usually, the thought of eating before ten made me nauseous. This morning I wanted food, needed food. Very weird. Maybe it was stress.

The smell of bagels and melting cheese made my stomach ripple. The smell of fresh brewed coffee made me want to chew the couch.

I scarfed down two bagels and three cups of coffee while Ro

She shrugged. “Nothing. Can you catch your breath and tell me about last night?”

I nodded, and it didn’t hurt as much. Aspirin, nature’s gift to modern man. I told her, from Monica’s call to my meeting with Valentine. I didn’t tell her that it all took place at the Circus of the Damned. That was very dangerous information to have right now. And I left out the blue lights on the stairs, the sound of Jean-Claude’s voice in my head. Something told me that was dangerous information, too. I’ve learned to trust my instincts, so I left it out.

Ro

“Yes.” An easy lie, simple, one word. I don’t think Ro

“Okay.” She took a sip of coffee. “What do you want me to do?”

“Ask around. You have access to the hate groups. Like Humans Against Vampires, The League of Human Voters, the usual. See if any of them might be involved with the murders. I can’t go near them.” I smiled. “After all, animators are one of the groups they hate.”

“But you do kill vampires.”

“Yeah, but I also raise zombies. Too weird for the hardcore bigot.”

“All right. I’ll check out HAV and the rest. Anything else?”

I thought about it and shook my head, almost no pain at all. “Not that I can think of. Just be very careful. I don’t want to endanger you the way I did Catherine.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Right.”

“It isn’t your fault, none of this is.”

“Tell that to Catherine and her fiancй if things go bad.”

“Anita, dammit, these creatures are using you. They want you discouraged and frightened, so they can control you. If you let the guilt mess with your head, you’re going to get killed.”

“Well, gee, Ro

“You don’t need cheering up. You need a good shaking.”

“Thanks, I already had one last night.”

“Anita, listen to me.” She was staring at me, eyes intense, her face searching mine, trying to see if I was really hearing her. “You’ve done all you can for Catherine. I want you to concentrate on keeping yourself alive. You’re ass deep in enemies. Don’t get sidetracked.”

She was right. Do what you can and move on. Catherine was out of it, for now. It was the best I could do. “Ass-deep in enemies, but ankle-deep in friends.”

She gri

I cradled the coffee in my bandaged hands. Warmth radiated through the cup. “I’m scared.”

“Which proves you aren’t as stupid as you look.”

“Gee, thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome.” She raised her coffee cup in a salute. “To Anita Blake, animator, vampire slayer, and good friend. Watch your back.”

I clinked my cup against hers. “You watch yours, too. Being my friend right now may not be the healthiest of avocations.”

“Since when was that a news bulletin?”

Unfortunately, she had a point.