Bloody Bones
Chapter 19

Chapter 19
I could feel dawn pressing against the windows like a cool hand when we got back to my room. It was very near. Jean-Claude smiled at me. "The first time I manage to share a hotel room with you, and there is no time." He gave an elaborate sigh. "Things never work as I plan with you, ma petite."
"Maybe that's a hint," I said.
"Perhaps." He glanced at the closed drapes. "I must go, ma petite. Until darkness." He shut the bedroom door a little hurriedly. I could feel the coming light pressing around the building. I'd noticed over the years of hunting vamps that I'd become aware of dawn, and sunset. There had been times when I'd struggled from disaster to disaster just to stay alive until that soft growing pressure of light could sweep the sky and save my cookies. For the first time I wondered what it would be like to see it as a danger instead of a blessing.
After he'd closed the door I realized my suitcase was in the bedroom. Damn. I hesitated, and finally knocked. No answer. I opened the door just a crack, then farther. He wasn't in there. Water ran in the bathroom. A line of light showed under the door. What did vampires do in bathrooms? Better not to know.
I grabbed my suitcase from the floor and carried it out before the bathroom door could open. I did not want to see him again. I did not want to see what happened to him when the sun rose.
When the sun had risen enough to pulse against the closed drapes like pale lemon liquid, I changed into a t-shirt and jeans. I had a robe with me, but if I was going to greet both Larry and Jason I wanted to be wearing some pants.
I called down for extra blankets and a pillow. No one bitched that it was a quarter past dawn, and a strange time to need bedclothes. They just brought the stuff. True class. The maid didn't even glance at the closed bedroom door.
I spread the blanket on the couch and stared at it. It was a pretty couch but didn't look terribly comfortable. Oh, well, virtue had its punishments. Of course, maybe it wasn't virtue that kept me out of the bedroom. If it had been Richard curled up in the next room, then only moral fortitude would have kept me out. With Jean-Claude... I had never seen him after dawn when he was dead to the world. I wasn't sure I wanted to see. I knew I didn't want to cuddle up next to him while the warmth left his body.
There was a knock on the door. I hesitated. It was probably Larry, but then again... I went to the door with the Browning naked in my hand. Beau had had a shotgun last night. Paranoia, or caution; hard to tell the difference sometimes.
I stood to one side of the door and said, "Yes."
"Anita, it's us."
I hit the safety and put the barrel of the Browning down the front of my jeans. It was too big a gun to wear in an inner pants holster, but for temporary holding, that worked.
I opened the door.
Larry leaned against the doorjamb, looking rumpled and tired. He had a McDonald's sack in one hand, and four cups shoved into one of those Styrofoam holders. Two of the cups held coffee, the other two sodas.
Jason had a large leather suitcase under each arm, a battered, much smaller suitcase in his right hand, and a second McDonald's bag in his left. He didn't look the least bit tired. A morning person, even after no sleep at all. It was disgusting. His eyes flicked to the gun shoved in my waistband. He noticed, but he didn't comment. Point for him.
Larry never even blinked at the gun.
"Food?" I asked.
"I didn't eat much last night. Besides, Jason was hungry, too," Larry said. He came inside, putting the drinks and food on the wet bar. None of us drank; good to use the bar for something.
Jason walked through the door sideways with the suitcases and food, but there was no effort to it. He wasn't straining one little bit to carry it all.
"Showoff," I said.
He sat the luggage on the floor. "This isn't even close to showing off," he said.
I locked the door behind them. "I suppose you can bring the coffin up single-handedly."
"No, but not because it's heavy. It's just too long. The balance isn't right."
Great. Super werewolf. Though for all I knew, all lycanthropes could lift that much weight. Maybe Richard could lift coffins with one arm. It was not a comforting thought.
Jason started laying food out on the bar. Larry had already climbed onto one of the bar stools. He was pouring sugar into one of the coffees.
"Did you just leave the coffin in the lobby?" I asked. I had to lay the Browning on the bar to sit down. I was just too short-waisted to have it down my pants.
Larry sat the unopened coffee in front of me. "It's missing."
I stared at him. "You found the suitcases but not the coffin?"
"Yep," Jason said, as he finished dividing the food into three piles. He'd pushed some of it in front of both of us, but the lion's share was in front of him.
"How can you eat this early in the morning?"
"I'm always hungry," he said. He looked at me sort of expectantly.
I let it slide. It was too easy.
"Come on, I fed you that one," he said.
"You don't seem particularly worried," I said.
He shrugged, and slid onto a bar stool. "What do you want me to say? I've seen some weird shit since I became a werewolf. If I got hysterical every time something went wrong, every time someone I knew died, I'd be in the loony bin by now."
"I thought fights for dominance in the pack, except for pack leader, weren't to the death," I said.
"People forget," he said.
"I'll have to talk to Richard when I get back in town. He hasn't been mentioning any of this."
"Nothing to mention," Jason said. "Just business as usual."
Great. "Did anybody see who took the coffin?"
Larry answered, his voice sluggish even with the caffeine and sugar. There's only so much you can do on no sleep at all. "No one saw anybody take it. In fact, the only guy left from the night shift said, 'I just turned away for a second, and it wasn't there. Just the luggage standing there by itself.'"
"Shit," I said.
"Why take the coffin?" he asked. He drank most of his coffee. His Egg McMuffin sat untouched in front of him. They'd put hotcakes in front of me with a little tub of syrup beside it.
"Your breakfast is getting cold," Jason said.
He was enjoying himself too much. I frowned at him, but I opened my coffee. I didn't want the food. "I think the master is flexing a little muscle. What do you think, Jason?" I kept my voice casual.
He smiled at me around a mouthful of food, swallowed, and said, "I think whatever Jean-Claude wants me to think."
Maybe my voice had been too casual. I should really give up on subtlety; I just wasn't good enough at it. "Did he tell you not to talk to me?"
"No, just to be careful what I said."
"He says jump, and you say how high; is that it?"
"That's it." He ate a bite of scrambled egg, his face peaceful.
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"I don't make the rules, Anita. I'm not an alpha anything."
"And it doesn't bother you?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Sometimes, but there's nothing I can do about it. Why fight it?"
"I don't understand that at all," Larry said.
"Me either."
"You don't have to understand it," he said. He couldn't have been more than twenty, but the look in his eyes wasn't young. It was the look of someone who'd seen a lot, done a lot, and not all of it nice. It was the look I was dreading to see on Larry's face someday. They were nearly the same age; what had people been doing to Jason to give him such jaded eyes?
"What do we do now?" Larry asked.
"You're the vampire experts. I'm just Jean-Claude's pet."
He said it like it didn't bother him. It would have bothered me. I shook my head. "I'm going to call the cops, then get some sleep."
"What are you going to tell them?" Jason asked.
"I'm going to tell them about Xavier."
"Did Jean-Claude say you could tell the cops?"
I looked at him. "I didn't ask for permission."
"Jean-Claude wouldn't like you bringing in the police."
I just stared at him.
He blinked at me. "Don't do it just because I said that, please."
"He knows you pretty well for someone who's only met you twice," Larry said.
"Three times," I said. "Two out of three times, he's tried to eat me."
Larry's eyes widened a little. "You're kidding."
"She just looks so tasty," Jason said.
"I've had about enough of you," I said.
"What's wrong? Jean-Claude and Richard both tease you."
"I'm dating both of them," I said. "I'm not dating you."
"Maybe you've got a thing for monsters. I can be just as scary as the next guy."
I stared at him. "No," I said, "you can't. That's why you're not alpha. That's why you're Jean-Claude's pet, because you aren't scary enough."
Something flowed through his pale blue eyes. Something angry and dangerous. Sitting there with his forkful of scrambled eggs, and a Coke in one hand, he was suddenly different. It was hard to put into words, but it raised the hair on the back of my neck.
"Ease down, wolf-boy," I said. My voice was soft, careful. I was sitting less than a foot away from him. At this distance he could jump me easy. The Browning was an inch away from my right hand, but I knew better. I might grab the gun, but I'd never get it pointed in time. I'd seen him move before, and I wasn't quick enough. Lack of sleep was making me trusting, or stupid. Same thing.
A low, trickling growl rumbled out of him. My pulse beat a little faster.
Larry's gun was suddenly pointing past my nose at the werewolf's face. "Don't," Larry said. His voice was low and even, and very damn serious.
I eased back off the bar stool, bringing the Browning with me. Didn't really want Larry's gun to go off right next to my face.
I pointed my gun at Jason's chest, one-handed, almost casual. "Don't ever threaten me again."
Jason stared at me. His beast lurked just behind his eyes like a wave rushing towards the shore.
"You start going furry, and I won't wait to find out if you're bluffing," I said.
Larry had one knee on the bar stool, gun still pointed nice and steady. I hoped he didn't fall off the bar stool and accidentally shoot Jason. If he shot him, I wanted it to be on purpose.
Jason's shoulders relaxed. His hands unclenched, leaving the fork and the drink on the bar. He closed his eyes and sat very still for nearly a full minute. Larry and I waited, guns still pointed. Larry's eyes flicked to me. I shook my head.
Jason opened his eyes and let out a deep, sighing breath. He looked normal again, that tension drained away. He grinned. "I had to try."
I took another step back, putting my back to the wall. Out of reach, I lowered the gun. Larry hesitated, but followed my lead.
"So you tried; now what?"
He shrugged. "You're dominant to me."
"Just like that," I said.
"Would you be happier if I made you fight me?"
I shook my head.
"But I backed her up," Larry said. "She didn't do it alone."
"Doesn't matter. You're loyal to her, would risk your life for her. There's more to being dominant than just muscle, or guns."
Larry looked puzzled. "What do you mean, dominant? I feel like I'm missing part of the conversation."
"Why are you working so damn hard at not being human, Jason?" I asked.
He smiled and went back to his breakfast.
"Answer me, Jason."
He finished off his eggs and said, "No."
"What's going on?" Larry said.
"Mind games," I said.
Larry made an exasperated noise. "Someone explain to me why we had to pull a gun on someone who's supposed to be on our side."
"Jean-Claude keeps telling me Richard isn't any more human than he is. Jason's little display helps emphasize that. Doesn't it, wolf-boy?"
Jason ate the rest of his food like we weren't there.
"Answer me," I said.
He turned on the bar stool, putting his elbows behind him. "I have too many masters now, Anita. I don't need another one."
"And I've got too many monsters messing with me right now. Don't add yourself to the list, Jason."
"Is it a short list?" he asked.
"Gets shorter all the time," I said.
He smiled and slid off the bar stool. "Is anybody tired but me?"
Larry and I stared at him. The werewolf didn't look tired--more than I could say for us mere humans.
Jason wasn't going to answer my questions, and they weren't important enough to shoot him over. Stalemate.
"Fine; where are you sleeping?" I asked.
"If you trust me not to eat him, in Larry's room."
"No way," I said.
"You want me here, with you?"
"I told him he could stay in my room on the ride over," Larry said.
"That was before he pulled the werewolf crap," I said.
Larry shrugged. "You've got the Master of the City tucked into your bed. I think I can handle one werewolf."
I didn't think so. But I didn't want to discuss it in front of the werewolf. "No, Larry."
He was instantly angry. "What do I have to do to prove myself to you?"
"Stay alive," I said.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're not a shooter, Larry."
"I was willing to shoot him." Larry pointed to the smiling werewolf.
"I know."
"Because I'm not trigger-happy, you don't trust me to handle myself?"
I sighed. "Larry, please. If Jason turned furry in the middle of the day and killed you, I couldn't live with myself."
"And if he kills you?" Larry said.
"He won't."
"Why not?" Larry asked.
"Because Jean-Claude would kill him. If he hurt you, I'd kill him, but I don't know if Jean-Claude would avenge you. Jason's more frightened of Jean-Claude than he is of me. Aren't you, Jason?"
Jason had sat down on the end of the couch on my blanket. "Oh, yes."
"I don't know why," Larry said. "You're the one who kills for Jean-Claude. He never seems to kill anyone on his own."
"Larry, who would you be more afraid of, Jean-Claude or me?"
"You wouldn't hurt me," he said.
"If you had to face one of us, which would you prefer?"
Larry looked at me for a long time. The anger drained away, replaced by something tired and old in his eyes. "Him."
"For God's sake, why?" I asked.
"I've seen you kill a lot of people, Anita. A lot more than Jean-Claude. He might try to frighten me to death, but you'd just kill me."
My mouth was open, just a little. "If you really believe that I'm more dangerous than Jean-Claude, then you haven't been paying attention."
"I didn't say you were more dangerous. I said you'd kill me quicker."
"That's why I'm not as afraid of Anita as I am of Jean-Claude," Jason said.
Larry looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"All she'll do is kill me, quick, neat. Jean-Claude wouldn't kill me quick, or easy. He'd make sure it hurt."
The two men stared at each other. Each one's logic was sound as far as it went. I was with Jason. "If you really believe what you're saying, Larry, then you haven't seen enough vampires."
"How am I ever going to see enough vampires if you keep me at arm's length, Anita?"
Had I really kept him out of it that much? Had I overprotected him? Let him see my ruthlessness but not Jean-Claude's?
"And I'm going to the master's tomorrow night. You are not leaving me behind anymore."
"You're right," I said. The answer seemed to surprise both of them.
"If you really believe that I'd kill someone quicker than Jean-Claude would, I have overprotected you. You have to understand how dangerous they are, Larry. How deadly, or someday I won't be around and you'll get killed."
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. My stomach was tight with fear. Fear that Larry would get killed because I'd kept him out of it. It was something I hadn't anticipated.
"Come on, Jason," Larry said.
Jason stood up.
"No. Tomorrow you can be ass-deep in vampires with me watching. Until you understand how dangerous the monsters are, I don't want you alone with them."
His eyes were angry and hurt. I'd undercut his confidence, his self-esteem. But... what else could I do?
Larry turned abruptly on his heel and left. He didn't argue. He didn't say goodbye. He slammed the door behind him, and I fought an urge to follow him. What could I say? I leaned my forehead against the door, and whispered, "Damn."
"Do I get the couch?" Jason asked.
I turned and leaned against the door. I still had the Browning in my hand, though I wasn't sure why anymore. I was getting tired, sloppy. "No, I get the couch."
"Where do you want me, then?"
"I don't care; just not near me."
He ran his hands down the edge of the blanket, running the cloth between his fingers. "If you're really sleeping out here, I'd just as soon have the bed."
"It's taken," I said.
"How big is the bed?"
"King-size, but what difference does it make?"
"Jean-Claude won't mind if I share with him. He'd prefer it was you, but..." He shrugged.
I looked at him, at his tranquil, pleasant face. "Is this the first time you've shared a bed with Jean-Claude?"
"No," he said.
It must have shown on my face, because he lowered the high neck of the sweater enough for me to see two fang marks. I pushed away from the wall and walked closer. Close enough to see that the bite was almost healed.
"Sometimes he likes a snack when he first wakes up," Jason said.
"Jesus," I said.
Jason let go of the collar, and it slid over the bite like it wasn't there. The same way you'd hide a hickey. Jason sat there looking harmless. He was exactly my height, and had the face of a knowledgeable angel.
"Richard didn't let Jean-Claude snack on him," I said.
"No," he said.
"No. That's all you have to say."
"What do you want me to say, Anita?"
I thought about that for a second. "I want you to be outraged. Angry."
"Why?"
I shook my head. "Go to bed, Jason. You're making me tired."
He went into the bedroom without another word. I didn't peek to see if he changed into a wolf and curled up on the carpet, or if he crawled into bed beside the corpse. None of my business, or at least nothing I wanted to see.