The Killing Dance

"Can you put my vampires back, ma petite?"

I continued to look at Liv, avoiding Jean-Claude's eyes. "I don't know."

He touched my chin, turning me to face him. He studied my face, eyes searching, as if some hint of truth might show through. I let anger fill my face, anger was always a great thing to hide behind.

"What did you do with the last vampire you raised, ma petite?"

I pulled away from him. He grabbed my arm unbelievably fast. Too fast to see. What happened next was simply automatic. He held my right upper arm, but I could still bend at the elbow and point the Firestar at him. The Uzi in my left hand pointed at him, too. He could have crushed my arm before I fired one gun, but not both. But for the first time, staring down the barrel of a gun at him was problematic. The sash of his robe had come loose and I could see a triangle of pale flesh. I could see where his heart would be. I could blow his heart out his back and sever his spine. And I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to splatter that beautiful body all over the wall. Damn.

Richard came closer. He didn't touch either of us. He just stared from one to the other. "Is he hurting you, Anita?"

"No," I said.

"Then should you be pointing a gun at him?"

"He shouldn't be touching me," I said.

Richard's voice was very mild. "He just finished touching you a lot more than this, Anita."

"Why are you helping him?"

"He helped me. Besides, if you kill him over something small and stupid, you'll never forgive yourself."

I took a deep breath and let it out. Some of the tension eased with the breath. I lowered the Uzi.

Jean-Claude released my arm.

I pointed the Firestar at the floor and looked at Richard. There was something in his eyes, even the wolf's amber eyes, that was all too human. Pain. He knew how much Jean-Claude meant to me. It was there in his eyes. That one comment said that he understood my relationship with the vampire, maybe better than I did.

I wanted to apologize to him, but I wasn't sure he'd understand what it was for. I wasn't even sure I could explain it. If you love someone, truly love them, you should never cause them pain. Never fill their eyes with something so close to grief.

"I'm sorry I got mad at you earlier. You want what's best for the pack, I know that."

"You still think I'm a fool to want a bloodless coup," he said.

I stood on tiptoe and kissed him gently. "Not a fool, just naive, terribly naive."

"Very touching, ma petite. And I do appreciate your interference on my behalf, Richard, but these are my people. I promised them certain freedoms when they joined me. I ask again. Can you put them back as they were?"

I turned to Jean-Claude, one hand still balancing against Richard's chest. "I don't know."

"Then you had better find out, ma petite."

It sounded too much like a threat for my taste, but . . . there was a figure behind Liv the bouncer that I couldn't take my eyes off of. I walked towards the waiting vampires. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My stomach clenched into a hard lump, my chest was tight. I finally said it: "Willie McCoy, come to me."

Willie walked out from behind the tall blond vampire. He was wearing the same chartreuse suit he'd had on at Danse Macabre. His brown eyes seemed to see me, but they were empty of that spark that was Willie. He wasn't home. It was like watching a puppet moving, and I was the puppet master. I tasted something bitter at the back of my throat. My eyes were hot and tight. I wasn't sure if I was going to throw up or cry first.

I stopped him about two feet from me. Close enough that I couldn't pretend or wish it away. I swallowed hard, and tears hot enough to scald ran down my face. "I didn't want to know this," I whispered.

Jean-Claude came to stand beside me. "Willie," he said, his voice vibrated through the room. Willie's body thrummed to the sound like a tuning fork struck. "Willie, look at me."

The blank, familiar face turned slowly towards his master. Something flickered through the eyes for a moment; something moved that I had no name for.

"This has possibilities," Jean-Claude said.

"Willie," I said, "look at me." My voice wasn't nearly as impressive as the vampire's, but Willie turned to me.

"No," Jean-Claude said, "look at me, Willie."

Willie hesitated.

"Willie," I said, "come to me." I held out a hand and he took a step towards me.

Jean-Claude said, "Stop, Willie, do not go to her."

Willie hesitated, almost turning to Jean-Claude.

I concentrated on that curl of power inside of me, that thing that allowed me to raise the dead and let it wash over me, flow out of me. I called Willie's body to me and nothing Jean-Claude could do would get him to turn away from me.

Richard said, "Stop it, both of you. He isn't a doll."

"He isn't alive, either," I said.

"He deserves better than this," Richard said.

I agreed. I turned to Jean-Claude. "He's mine, Jean-Claude. They're all mine. When night falls, they will be yours again, but their empty shells are mine." I stepped close to him, and that swirl of power lashed out.

He took a hissing breath and backed up. Holding his hand as if I'd struck him.

"Never forget what I am and what I can do. No more threats between us, ever, or it will be the last threat."

He stared at me, and for just a second, there was a flash of something I hadn't seen before: fear. Fear of me for the first time. Good.

Willie stared at me with empty, waiting eyes. He was dead, well and truly dead. Tears flowed down my face, tight and hard. Poor Willie, poor me. He wasn't human. All these months of being his friend and he was dead. Just dead. Damn.

"What happened to the first vampire you raised, ma petite? Why didn't you put it back into its coffin?" A thought slid behind his eyes. I watched the idea form, and fall from his lips. "How did Monsieur Bouvier get the lower half of his body melted away?"

Magnus Bouvier had been Serephina's mortal servant. It had been his job to keep me near Serephina's coffin until she rose to finish me off. I scrubbed at my face, trying to get rid of the tears. Always ruins the effect when you cry. "You know the answer," I said. My voice sounded strained and small.

"Say it aloud, ma petite, let me hear it from your own lips."

"I feel like I'm missing part of this conversation," Richard said, "What are you two talking about?"

"Tell him, ma petite."

"The vampire grabbed Magnus around the waist and held on. I'd pla

I stood in the middle of the dead I had called, hugging myself. I still had dreams about Serephina. Still saw Magnus reaching out to me, begging me to save him. I could have shot him and never lost a moment's sleep, but burning him alive was torture. I didn't do torture. Not to mention that Ellie Quinlan had already risen as a vampire, which made her legally alive. I'd killed them both, and it hadn't been pretty.

Richard was looking at me, a look of something close to horror on his face. "You burned the man and the vampire alive?" I watched the brown in his eyes swim back to the surface. The entire shape of the eye changed while I watched. It looked almost like it should hurt. If it did hurt, he never showed it.

"I didn't plan it, Richard. I didn't want it to happen, but I would have done anything to escape Serephina. Anything."

"I don't understand that."

"I know," I said.

"There is no shame in surviving, ma petite." I turned to Jean-Claude. There was no shock on his face. It was lovely and unreadable as a doll's.