The Harlequin
Chapter 29-30

Chapter Twenty-nine
I HADN'T RECOGNIZED Peter at first, because he'd done that growth spurt thing that teenage boys do sometimes. He'd been a little taller than me when I last saw him. Now he was damn close to six feet. His hair had been chestnut brown last time I saw him; now it was darker, a brown that was almost black. It wasn't a dye job, just a child's hair darkening to the color it would be as an adult. His shoulders had broadened, and he looked older than sixteen if you looked only at muscle development, but the face, the face hadn't caught up to the body. The face still looked young, unfinished, until you hit the eyes. The eyes were young one minute and cynical and old as hell the next. It would have been unnerving enough to see Peter under these circumstances, but Edward's little talk hadn't helped my nerves at all. It made me look for signs that Peter was what Edward feared, a junior predator. If I hadn't had Edward's warning in my head, would I have noticed that look, that gesture? Would I have scrutinized him, trying to see the damage? Maybe. But I cursed Edward for oversharing, cursed him loud and long in my head.
Peter wasn't Peter Parnell, he was Peter Black. He even had ID to prove it. The ID said he was eighteen, too. The ID looked damned good. Edward and I were sooo going to talk about Peter's educational experiences if we could just avoid getting him killed here and now.
And that was the real danger to Peter being here. Edward and I needed to concentrate on the bad guys, but we'd both be worried about Peter, we just would. It was going to fuck with our concentration. Maybe I could persuade Peter to stay out of the action by telling him he might get us both killed. It might be the truth.
Olaf stood against the far wall in a ring of bodyguards. They hadn't disarmed him, yet, but my reaction to him coming through the door had made them not like him at all. Or maybe it was the fact that he was taller than Claudia, which put him perilously close to seven feet tall. He wasn't thin, but I'd seen him shirtless and knew that there was nothing but muscle under that pale skin, a lot of muscle. But it was lean muscle, muscle that could move fast. Even standing still, there was a potential in Olaf that just about raised the hairs on your neck. He was still perfectly bald, with a dark shadow of almost-beard on chin and jaws and upper lip. He was one of those men who needed to shave twice a day to stay perfectly shaved. His eyes were so deep set it was like staring into twin caves. Dark eyes, set deep in a pale face. His eyebrows were black above them. He was dressed in the same black I'd seen him in almost two years ago. Black T-shirt, black leather jacket, black jeans, over black boots. I wanted to ask him if he owned anything with color to it, but I didn't want to tease him. One, he didn't like to be teased; two, I wasn't sure if he'd think I was flirting. I just didn't understand Olaf enough to mess with him.
He was trying to be neutral in the circle of bodyguards, but there was something in him that was never truly neutral. Most serial killers make the neighbors say, He was such a quiet man, a nice boy, so surprised. Olaf had never been a nice boy. I'd seen him vanish into a nighttime field in plain sight, like magic. Not supernatural powers, but military training. Edward had called him a special-ops spook, and I'd seen it work. I knew that all that tall muscled violence could melt into the night. What I didn't believe was that it could pretend to be harmless and do undercover work. Edward did that kind of work, and was fabulous at it. But Edward was sane, and Olaf wasn't. Crazy people have trouble stopping the crazy long enough to blend in with the normals.
He put that cave-dweller gaze on me. I shivered, because I couldn't help it. He actually smiled. He liked that I was afraid of him. He liked that a lot. A part of me screamed, Kill him now. The rest of me really didn't disagree with that little voice.
"We need the muscle," Edward said at my side.
"You're reading my mind," I said.
"I know you."
I nodded. "Yeah, you know me." I glared at him. "And yet this is who you bring to my party."
"He had no choice," Olaf said in that deep, rumbling voice that seemed to come from the very center of that big chest.
"I heard that," I said.
Claudia said, "Anita, what is he?" She jerked a thumb at him.
"Backup," I said.
She gave me a look.
"He's given his word of honor that he'll behave himself while he's in our city."
"Behave himself how?" Remus asked.
I looked at Edward. "You explain it. I need to get some paperwork from Jean-Claude's room."
"Paperwork," he said.
I nodded. "I think I've got warrants of execution for the two vamps that fucked us earlier."
"I thought no one knew they were in town," he said.
"They've been setting up some of the vamps from the Church of Eternal Life."
"Busy girls," Edward said.
"They were women, these vampires?" Olaf asked. His voice was neutral, I'd give him that.
I hated to answer his question, because if the driver's license photos looked as much like the vampires Mercia and Nivia as I remembered, then I knew why two of Malcolm's people had been naughty. The Harlequin were spies and covert ops; a little play-acting was right up their alley. Was I certain that Mercia and Nivia had pretended to be Sally Hunter and Jennifer Hummel? No. Was I almost sure? Yes. Was I sure enough to use the warrants to kill them? Oh, yes.
"Yes, they were both female," I said, and I didn't look at him as I said it.
"Are we going to kill them?"
"Probably."
"What do they look like?" he asked, and his voice was losing its neutral edge.
"Why does that matter to you?" Claudia asked.
I forced myself to look up and meet Olaf's gaze. I fought to watch his face while I said, "They fit your vic profile, if that's what you want to know. One of them maybe a little tall, but the other one is juuust right."
The look on his face... such joy, such anticipation. It made me want to cry, or scream, or shoot him.
"Vic profile," Claudia said. "What are you saying?"
"Olaf is special ops. He's an assassin, and a soldier, and a spook, and he's good at all of it."
"Not just good," he said, "I am the best."
"I'll let you and Edward discuss that someday, but he's good, Claudia. He's backed my play before, and he was... useful." I licked my lips. "But no woman of any description is to be alone with him at any time."
"Why?" she asked.
"I gave my word," Olaf said.
"I'm going to treat you like a recovering alcoholic, Olaf. Let's just keep temptation out of reach, okay?"
"We are going to slaughter these two women together, correct?" he asked.
I licked my suddenly dry lips again, then nodded. "I think so."
"Then I will not be tempted elsewhere."
Normally, I'd have just used silver shot and blown holes through the vampires until I saw daylight. Or maybe a good old-fashioned staking. But they were Harlequin. I would have to treat them as if they were master vamps, heavy hitters. Which meant shoot them with silver shot, then decapitate them, take the heart out, and burn them both. You burn the body in a separate fire. Then you scatter the ashes in running water, different bodies of running water if you want to be truly paranoid. Was I paranoid, or just cautious? These two vampires had almost killed Jean-Claude, Richard, and me from a distance, using powers I'd never seen before. Paranoid it wasn't.
It was a messy, dirty job to decapitate and take a heart. There were vampire executioners who quit after having to do it a few times, just didn't have the stomach for it. Did I have the stomach for it? Yes. Would I let Olaf help me? Who the hell else would volunteer? Edward would do it if I asked, but truthfully, Olaf was better at taking the body apart. I guess practice makes perfect, and Olaf had had a lot of practice.
Claudia asked again, "What do you mean he's like an alcoholic?"
"You tell her, Edward. I'm going to go check my paperwork."
"Not without guards, you aren't," he said.
"Fine," I said. "Send guards with me."
"Where is the paperwork?" he asked.
"In my briefcase in Jean-Claude's place."
"You can't go to the Circus of the Damned without me, Anita."
"Or me," Olaf said.
"If I said 'or me,' would you get mad?" Peter said.
I frowned at him. "Yes."
He grinned at me. He was entirely too pleased to be here with his guns and knives strapped to his body. He was even wearing a black T-shirt, but at least his jeans were blue, though his leather jacket was black. The boots were brown and looked like Edward's, real cowboy boots, not boots you'd wear to go dancing like Olaf's. Though the fact that I thought Olaf's boots were club boots was probably a fact best kept to myself.
"I have to vote with them," Claudia said.
"No one asked your opinion, woman," Olaf said.
"Let's get this clear, right now," I said. "Claudia is one of our officers. You don't like it, I know that, but I trust her with my life."
"She nearly got you killed."
"Didn't I end up in the hospital a couple of times in New Mexico, when you were supposed to be watching my back?"
Anger flared across his face, thinning out his lips, making his eyes look even more cavernous.
"Don't bitch at Claudia, if you can't do better." The moment I said it, I knew I shouldn't have.
"I can do better than a woman."
"Shit," I said.
"Anita," Claudia said.
"Yeah," I said.
"Let me prove it."
I sighed. "As amusing as the thought of you and Olaf going at it is, please don't. I know where the two bad vamps are, and I have current warrants of execution."
"How do you know where they are?" Edward asked.
"I saw hotel stationery fall from a table in the vision. If they didn't wake up and move their asses, we got 'em." I looked at Olaf. "If you don't slow me down by picking fights with my guards, then we get to kill two vampires today. They're powerful enough that we'll have to take their heads and hearts."
"Like we did in New Mexico," he said, and there was an eager purr to that deep voice.
I nodded, swallowing past a feeling that might have been nausea. "Yes."
"To hunt with you again, Anita, I will let this one believe what she likes."
I understood what a huge concession that was for Olaf. Claudia said, "I don't believe it, big man, I know it."
"Claudia," I said, "please, oh, hell, just don't be around him, okay? He can't seem to help how he feels about women. Just don't crowd him and we'll get this done, okay?"
She didn't like it, but she nodded.
"Great. Edward, you fill in the guards on why Olaf isn't to be alone with the women. I want to see Richard alive, not just in a vision. When you're done telling everyone what a big, bad man he is, come find me, and you can drive me to the Circus of the Damned for the warrants."
"I don't want you going out of my sight without guards, Anita."
"Jesus, Edward, it's daylight."
"Yeah, and you know better than I do that master vamps have human servants, animals to protect them, and just plain human victims who will do anything they're told."
I nodded, a little too fast, a little too often. "Fine, fine, you're right. I'm tired, and I'm... oh, hell, just pick some guards so I can go see Richard."
I should have understood if he picked guards, who one of them would be. Just shadowing me to Richard's hospital room was an easy job, a safe job, or should have been. I went for the far door with one bodyguard in front of me and one behind. The one bringing up the rear was Peter.
Chapter Thirty
OUTSIDE RICHARD'S ROOM I had a fight with my guards. The other guard was Cisco, who was all of eighteen. I felt like a chaperone at a prom. But the fact that they were both still teenagers didn't make them less stubborn. Hell, maybe it made them more stubborn.
"Standing orders," Cisco said, "are that you are not to go anywhere without at least one guard with you at all times." He ran his hand through his carefully blond-tipped hair and frowned. He wasn't happy.
"I don't need an audience to see my boyfriend."
"Orders are orders," he said.
I looked up at Peter. I still wasn't used to having to look up at him. I'd visualized him over the phone as my size, with that brown hair cut in a standard short cut. But the brunette do was cut short but longer on top, not exactly a skater's cut but close. It was more modern, more teenager, less little boy. I didn't like it. "I need a little privacy, Peter, you understand that."
He smiled and shook his head. "I'm not fourteen now, Anita."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'm sympathetic, but not stupid. Edward gave the orders, and Claudia and Remus backed them up."
They were both young enough that I thought I might be able to embarrass them into letting me talk to Richard alone. "Fine, which of you wants to see me get all emotional with Richard?"
They exchanged looks.
"How emotional?" Cisco asked.
"I don't know, maybe I'll cry, maybe we'll have a fight. You never know with Richard and me."
Cisco spoke to Peter like I wasn't there. "They are pretty weird around each other."
"Weird how?" Peter asked.
"I am standing right here," I said.
Cisco looked at me with those big dark eyes. "You and Richard are like scary weird together as a couple; come on, it's true."
I had to smile. "Scary weird, huh?"
Cisco nodded.
I sighed. "Fine, I guess so, but I would like privacy, come on. He almost died, and so did I."
"I'm sorry, Anita," Cisco said. "I can't do it. One of us has to be in the room with you."
"Don't I have any seniority here?"
"Claudia and Remus both made it really clear that if I fuck up again, I'm gone, like fired gone. I'm not going to fuck up again."
"What'd you do?" Peter asked, then actually blushed. "Sorry, sorry, not my business. Later."
Cisco nodded. "Later."
Cisco sniffed the air and turned toward the far end of the hallway. Soledad came around the corner. She saw us, and her face looked suddenly stricken. She dropped to all fours and started to crawl toward us. Not in that almost sexual way the lycanthropes could, but broken, as if it hurt her to move.
"What's up?" I asked.
Her voice came, as broken as her movements. "I shot Richard. I'm sorry."
"You shot Richard," I said. I looked at Cisco.
He shrugged and gave me a look as if to say, Yeah. "I think if she hadn't shot him, he might have just torn Jean-Claude's heart out."
"I'm sorry," Soledad said. "I didn't know what else to do." She had stopped a few feet from us, her hand held out in the air, her head down. I'd seen a similar gesture among the lions. It was a way of asking to come closer when you were pretty sure the dominant in question didn't like you.
I'd been told that a guard shot Richard, and that it had saved Jean-Claude's life, but no one had told me who had done it. I stared at the woman holding out that hand, asking for forgiveness. She'd done her job, sort of. What would I have done in her place? Frozen. I wouldn't have been able to shoot Richard to save Jean-Claude. I'd have frozen and Jean-Claude would have died. Which would have probably killed both Richard and me. Shit.
"They took her weapons," Cisco said, "until they review it all."
"Like when a cop is involved in a shooting," I said.
"A lot of us are ex-police now," Cisco said, and he gave me a look, as if to say, Well, what are you going to do?
What was I going to do? I sighed, hung my head, and started forward. Why was it that in the middle of every crisis I always seemed to be babysitting someone's emotions? Usually someone who was dangerous, armed, or should have been some kind of tough guy, or girl. The monsters were a lot softer than they seemed.
I went to her and gave her my left hand. Most people did it like they were shaking hands, but I kept my gun hand free; just habit. Soledad made a sound like a sob as she gripped my hand. I had a moment to feel how terribly strong she was as she crawled close enough to put her face against my hand. She rubbed her cheeks against my hand and lower arm, and murmured, "Thank you, thank you, Anita. I'm so sorry, so sorry." Her tears were cool against my skin. Funny, tears were always colder than blood; shouldn't they both feel the same? Her power flared across my skin like a giant's breath, so hot, and so everywhere. Any strong emotion can undo a shapeshifter's control.
She drew a shuddering sob and threw herself around my waist, her long arms clutching me. She was practically wailing. "I didn't know what else to do with Richard..."
"It's okay, Soledad, it's okay." I patted her hair and started to turn in her arms. I didn't know her well enough to be this up close and personal, and the emotional content was a little much for near strangers. Hell, I wouldn't have wanted this much emotional content from close friends. I had actually turned around, with her hands only lightly on me, when she moved. She grabbed me around the waist, lifted me in front of her face and chest, and I blocked the clawed hand that had gone for my throat with my arm. Claws dug into my side just below the ribs. The pain was sharp and immediate, and I suddenly had two goals. I strained to keep her hand from my throat and gripped her wrist at my waist to keep her from slicing open my belly.
Her voice growled from behind me, "I'm sorry you have to die, Anita."