Laurell Hamilton - Kiss The Dead

“It would be nice to start keeping some of the land and resources that our soldiers are dying for,” I said.

“ Ma petite , are you a secret imperialist?”

“Just tired of watching our guys and girls die on the news, and have nothing to show for it except body bags.”

“You have the freedom and gratitude of the people you are helping,” he said, voice very mild.

I laughed. “Yeah, they’re so grateful they keep trying to blow us up.”

“It is at an odd moment in history that America comes of age, that I will agree.”

“These guys were willing to die rather than risk blood-oathing themselves to you, but I could sense them as if they were already blood of our bloodline.”

“That is interesting, and unexpected. Are you certain they are not from our bloodline?”

I took in a deep breath, let it out, and really tried to think about it, feel what I’d felt. I let him feel the memory with me. I just stopped talking and let him get it directly from my mind.

“I will think upon this.” He was drawing back away from me, shielding a little.

“You’ve thought of something, and I’m not going to like it, am I?”

“I have an idea, that is all. I wish to think about it, and ask opinions of some of the older ones that I trust most, before I share it with you.”

“Once, you’d have just lied to me,” I said.

“And once, ma petite , you wouldn’t have realized I was keeping anything from you.”

“I know you,” I said.

“We know each other,” he said. “Will you trust me to keep the idea to myself until I think it is ready to share with you?”

“I’d rather know,” I said.

“Will you trust me?” he asked, again.

I sighed. “Yes.” But I thought, I want to know , and I was in his head again, but he pushed me out, gently.

My viewpoint shifted from being almost in his head to being slightly in front and above him. It used to be how I did all the long-distance viewing, before I’d gotten more comfortable with it, but it had been Jean-Claude who pushed me further away now.

He smiled up at me, his eyes that rich, cobalt blue, the darkest true blue I’d ever seen in anyone’s eyes. The eyes first, and then the black curls spilling around that glistening, beautiful upper body; the small cross-shaped burn scar on his chest was a slickness under my fingertips when I touched him. The moment I remembered the physical sensation of it that clearly, I was closer in, like doing a close-up with a camera.

He pushed me back harder this time, and he wasn’t smiling as he gazed at me. I knew he saw me in the shadowed alley, as I saw him in his elegant office. “You said you would trust me.”

“I do trust you,” I said.

“But still you push; still you test your boundaries.”

I shrugged. “Sorry, didn’t really mean to.”

“You didn’t, and you did, ma petite .”

I shrugged again. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Yes, yes I can,” he said. “Je t’aime, ma petite.”

“I love you, too, Jean-Claude,” I said.

He closed down the link between us, shut his metaphysical door hard and tight. He’d thought of something, and if I pushed, he might have told me, but I’d learned that when Jean-Claude told me I didn’t want to know something, he was usually right. Ignorance isn’t bliss, but neither is knowledge. Sometimes you just know more, but it doesn’t make you any happier.

I heard someone behind me, and turned to find Zerbrowski in the mouth of the alley. “He see it on the news?”

“What?” I asked.

“The bodies,” he said.

I blinked at him, trying to bring myself solidly back into my own head, my own body. I pressed my fingertips against the cold, rough brick, and it helped.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Sure.”

“I called Katie, too,” he said.

“She saw it on the news,” I said.

“No, but the kids did.”

I gave him a sympathetic face. “I’m sorry, Zerbrowski, that must be hard.”

“The news is showing all the bodies with sheets and shit over it, and they said that two officers had been killed, but they never release the names until the families are notified, which is great, but it’s hell on everyone else’s families,” he said.

I thought about it, but most of my “boyfriends” could feel me alive, or they’d feel if I died, just as I’d feel it if they died. But I was shielding like a son of a bitch to keep them out of my head. I’d made it clear that all of them were supposed to stay out of my head while I was working a crime scene. I did my best to make sure that ongoing investigations weren’t shared with any of them. It took real work to stay separate enough to keep secrets from each other, but I had to do it, not just to keep the police work confidential, but because they didn’t need to see the horrors I saw on the job. I didn’t want, or need, to share that part of my job. Sometimes when I had nightmares, they got glimpses of it if we were sleeping next to each other. When I was working on a really violent case, some of my lovers started sleeping elsewhere. I didn’t really blame them, though I found that I did take brownie points away from the ones who hid. I preferred the people in my life who could take all of me, not just parts.

Did I need to call home? Probably. Shit.

“What’s that look on your face?” Zerbrowski said.

“I let Jean-Claude know, but I didn’t tell him to tell the others.”

“Won’t he do that automatically?”

“Not necessarily; the older vampires aren’t always big for sharing information.”

“We need you to come talk to these vampires right now, but if you want to call one of your other guys, make it quick.”

“Thanks, Zerbrowski,” I said.

“Yeah, might want to call the boyfriend most likely to tell everyone else next time.”

“That’d be Micah,” I said, and was already fishing for my phone.

“Say hi to Mr. Callahan for me.”

“Will do,” I said, and had my phone out.

“You didn’t have your phone out before,” Zerbrowski said.

I looked at the phone in my hand as if it had just appeared there. I realized in the dimness he’d assumed I was talking on it already. If I’d thought, I could have hidden the fact that I wasn’t using a phone the first time.

He shook his head, waved a hand. “I don’t want to know, because if I actually knew for sure you could talk to Jean-Claude without using a phone, that would sort of compromise the integrity of our crime scene. Just use a phone from now on, okay?”

I nodded, held it up in my hand. “You got it.” I hit Micah’s number on my favorite’s list, and the phone dialed him for me. He was a wereleopard, not a vampire; wereanimals tended to think more like modern people. You’d think it would be the other way around, but it wasn’t. Vampires weren’t human, or animals; they were vampires, and no matter how much I loved Jean-Claude, I knew that was the truth.

MICAH’S RING TONE was “Stray Cat Strut,” by Stray Cats; Nathaniel had put it on when he went wild giving nearly everyone personal ring tones on my new phone. It wasn’t a perfect ring for Micah, but I hadn’t found anything I liked better yet, so I’d left it.

His business answer was always, “Micah Callahan here.” Tonight, to me, it was, “Anita,” and there was relief in his voice, and then he recovered his tone and was businessier when he said, “I didn’t expect a call this early. You can’t be done with the crime scene.”

That relief at the beginning and his quick matter-of-fact recovery made me start with an apology that no amount of criticism, or whining, could have gotten from me. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, but I knew that you guys would know I wasn’t one of the dead officers.” I regretted using the word dead as soon as it left my mouth, and then I didn’t regret it, because it was the truth, and then… Oh, hell.