Laurell Hamilton - Skin Trade

“That didn’t answer the question.”

“Nope, it didn’t.”

“Fine.” We were at the light in front of the Bellagio, with the fake skyline of New York close by and the Eiffel Tower in sight. It was like the world had been pared down and squished into one street.

“Ask the question you wanted to ask, Rocco.”

I half-expected him to protest, but he didn’t; he finally asked, “You’re like me. You feed from your power.”

“From raising the dead? I don’t think so.”

“It’s something to do with sex or love. I feed on violence, the memory of it, but you feed on softer emotions, don’t you?”

I debated on how to answer; maybe I was just tired because I told the truth. “Yeah.”

“Am I going to keep seeing softer things?”

“I don’t know. It’s like we traded a little power.” I looked at the pirate ship, the fire, and it was surreal, unreal, like some dream where nothing makes sense.

“Have you ever shared power like that before?”

“I can act as a focus for psychic ability for raising the dead.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can share power with other animators, and combined we can raise more, or older, dead.”

“Really,” he said.

“Yeah, I wrote it up for the magazine The Animator a few years back.”

“Email me the back issue, and I’ll read up on it. Maybe practitioners here can do something similar.”

“Your abilities aren’t very similar.”

“Ours weren’t either.”

“We’re both living vampires, Cannibal; that’s similar enough.”

He glanced at me, and it was a longer look. “The law hasn’t expanded to psychic vampires yet.”

“They don’t want to understand it enough to regulate it.”

He grinned. “Too many politicians would be on the wrong side of it.”

“Probably,” I said.

He gave me that glance again. “You know any?”

“No, just being cynical.”

“You’re good at it.”

“Why thank you, always high praise from a cop.” I had the feeling that he still hadn’t asked all of his questions. I waited in the bright neon silence, punctuated by darkness between the lights, as if the night were thicker anywhere the light didn’t shine. My mood was showing in my head.

He pulled into the big circular drive at the New Taj. I realized I should have called ahead and had some of our people meet us. I’d expected to be dropped off by Edward and the boys, and I would have been safe enough. Now it was just me.

“You want me to walk you up?”

I smiled at him, hand on the door. “I’m a big girl.”

“This vampire has a serious hard-on for you, Anita.”

“You ask all the questions you wanted privacy for?” I asked.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re blunt?”

“All the damn time.”

He laughed again, but there was an edge of nerves to it. “Do you ever get tempted to feed on more than you should?”

The doorman, or the valet, or someone, was at the door. I waved them off. “What do you mean, Rocco?”

“I can take a memory, Anita. I can take it and erase it from their mind. I did it accidentally a few times. It’s like it becomes my memory, not theirs, and it’s a high. It’s a rush. I think if I let myself, I could take it all, every bad memory they’ve ever had. Maybe more. Maybe I could take everything and leave them blank. I think about how it might feel to take it all.”

“Tempts you, doesn’t it?” I said.

He nodded and wouldn’t look at me.

“Have you ever done it?”

He gave me a look of shock, of horror. “No, of course not. It’d be evil.”

I nodded. “It’s not about being able to do something, Rocco. It’s not even about thinking about doing it. It’s not even about being tempted to go too far.”

“Then what is it about?” he asked.

I looked into that very grown-up, very competent face, and watched the doubt in his eyes. I knew that doubt. “It’s about deciding not to do it. It’s about being tempted but not giving in. It isn’t our abilities that make us evil, Sergeant, it’s giving in to them. Psychic ability isn’t any different from being good with a gun. Just because you could walk into a crowd and take out half of them doesn’t mean you will.”

“I can lock my gun up, Anita. I can’t take this out of me and put it somewhere safe.”

“No, we can’t, so every day, every night, we make the choice to be good guys and not bad guys.”

He looked at me, hands still on the steering wheel. “And that’s your answer: we’re good guys because we don’t do bad things?”

“Isn’t that what a good guy is?” I asked.

“No, a good guy does good things, too.”

“Don’t you do good things every day?”

He frowned. “I try.”

“Rocco, that is all any of us can do. We try. We do our best. We resist temptation. We keep moving.”

“I have to be older than you by a decade; why is it that I’m asking you for advice?”

“First, I think I’m older than I look. Second, I’m the first one you’ve met that you thought might be tempted in the same way. It’s hard when you think you’re the only one, no matter how old you are.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience,” he said.

I nodded. “Sometimes, sometimes I’ve got so much company I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Like that,” and he nodded toward the window. It was Truth and Wicked, patiently waiting for us to finish our conversation. Had they been watching for me, or had they just known I was here? Did I want to ask? Not unless I was ready for the answer.

“Yeah, like that. I turned back to him and offered him my hand. “Thanks for the lift.”

“Thanks for the talk.”

We shook, and there was no magic between us now. We were both tired, our fires dimmed behind use and emotion. He got out and helped us unload the car. The overeager bellman was allowed to touch my suitcase and nothing else. Most of my really dangerous stuff was still locked up at SWAT, but there was enough here that I didn’t want the staff carrying it. Wicked and Truth took the extra bags. Sergeant Rocco offered his hand to them. They were surprised by the offer, though he probably didn’t see the signs of it. They shook his hand. He said good night to me, and “See you tomorrow.”

“We’ll start in the area where he found all his vampire victims tonight.”

“Yeah, maybe his lair will be in the area.” He got in his truck. We went for the doors. I wished I felt more secure that Vittorio only hunted near his lair. It seemed like an obvious mistake, and he didn’t strike me as the kind to make those.

Wicked and Truth didn’t say much until they got to the elevator and we were alone. “You seem tired,” Truth said.

“I am.”

“You fed on both of us, and you’re tired already,” Wicked said. “Should we be insulted?”

I smiled and shook my head. “It was a stressful night, and no, it’s no reflection on either of you. You know just how good you both are.”

“A backhanded compliment, but I’ll take it,” Wicked said.

“I wasn’t fishing, I was just saying you seem tired.”

“Sorry, Truth, sorry, just a long damn night.”

They exchanged a look, which I did not like. “What was that look about?”

Wicked said, “Requiem is waiting in your room.”

“I figured that my room would have the coffins, or the adjoining room.”

“That’s not what he means,” Truth said.

“Look, I’m beyond tired, just tell me.”

“He’s waiting to feed you,” Wicked said.

“I fed on both of you less than”-I squinted at my watch-“less than six hours ago. I don’t need to feed the ardeur .”

“Jean-Claude gave instructions that you needed to have food available more often if you wanted it.”