Laurell Hamilton - Kiss The Dead

“What?” I asked, and tried to keep my voice neutral just in case it was a problem that we wanted to handle without the other police.

“We have a Renfield with a bomb strapped to him, and a dead man’s switch, so if he dies it blows.”

“Where?” I whispered.

“Guilty Pleasures.”

“It’s closed right now,” I said.

“They were here rehearsing the new dance routine.”

My mouth was suddenly dry; my pulse couldn’t decide it if was going to beat too fast, or stop altogether. “Who’s they ?”

“Our people took out two of them, but the last one, the one with the bomb, he grabbed…”

“Nicky, tell me.”

“Nathaniel, the bomber has his arms wrapped around Nathaniel. If we shoot the Renfield, the bomb goes off. If we don’t shoot him, eventually the bomb goes off.”

I had a sudden wave of nausea, and had to sit on the edge of a desk and put my head down. Claudia was there, “Anita, what’s wrong?”

So much for me being cool and hiding shit. “Why hasn’t he blown it already?” My voice sounded almost normal. I didn’t have enough brownie points to give myself for that.

“He wants you to come down. He says he’ll let Nathaniel go for you.”

“Okay,” I said. I gripped the edge of the desk, and lowered myself to the floor with Claudia’s help. I was still nauseous, and dizzy, and the room felt hot. Fuck.

“Anita, he may not let Nathaniel go. He may just blow it with both of you there. He’s your leopard to call; if he takes you both out, then the chances of you actually dying are better, you know that.”

“But he doesn’t,” I said.

“You don’t know that, and he may just blow it with both of you because he can, Anita. You can’t do this.”

“I can’t not do it,” I said. I added. “Don’t sacrifice Nathaniel to keep me safe, I’d never forgive you for it.”

There was a crowd gathered around me. Claudia, and Pride, who was kneeling by me. Zerbrowski was there, and Arnet, and Tammy, and Dolph, and… I didn’t care about any of them. In that moment I just cared about the one person who wasn’t there.

“I would never hurt Nathaniel,” he said.

“I thought you’d say, now that I told you you couldn’t, you couldn’t.”

“He means something to me, too, Anita. I’ve had a pride of werelions, but this is the first home I’ve had since the woman who raised me… It doesn’t matter. I want him safe, too.”

And in that moment I knew that Nicky wasn’t nearly as good a sociopath as I’d thought, or maybe as he’d thought.

“Keep him safe for both of us; I’m on my way.”

“I will.”

“Don’t get yourself killed either, okay?”

“I won’t on purpose.

“Nicky?”

But he’d hung up. I could have called him back, but what could I have said? Don’t die on me. Don’t any of you die on me. Yeah, I could have said that.

GUILTY PLEASURES IS in the Riverfront area of St. Louis. The streets are narrow, designed more for horses than cars, and most of them are still paved with bricks. It’s very historic, with very modern clubs in a line that draw in a hell of a lot of tourists. It is one of the hot spots on the weekend. There’s almost no parking. It sucks as a staging area for SWAT. But we made do, parking everything far enough away that we couldn’t see the daylight front of the club.

Lisandro stood by the main truck. His shoulder-length hair was back in a braid. He was still tall, dark, handsome, and happily married. Almost a year ago, in the summer, he’d gotten shot helping us defeat the Mother of All Darkness. There’d been a horrible moment when I thought he’d made the ultimate sacrifice and died, but he was too big a dog, or wererat, for that, and he’d lived. I hadn’t had to explain to his wife and kids why I brought their dad back in a box. I was glad of that, but since that moment I’d rejected him from my bodyguard detail. I didn’t want the responsibility of making a widow of his wife, or half-orphans of his kids. Standing out in the thin spring sunshine, I remembered that by my side wasn’t the only dangerous detail.

We were surrounded by SWAT, with Dolph and Zerbrowski in the mix. All of them were paying me and my people the ultimate compliment by letting them be here.

“How the hell did you let someone wearing a bomb get into the club, and then let them take Nathaniel hostage?” I demanded.

Lisandro looked down, took a deep breath, set his shoulders, then met my eyes and reported. “Clay was on the door; he’s never been real military, or seen real violence. With the higher alert I shouldn’t have had him on the door. The young man was here with two others to apply as wait staff.”

“Were the other two in on it?” I asked.

“They ran like hell, so I don’t think so. It seems to have been just the one man.”

“How did he get Nathaniel with Nicky and you here?”

Dolph said, “Anita, these aren’t the questions you need to be asking.”

I looked up at him and started to argue, then swallowed it. I took a deep breath, let it out slow, and nodded.

Hill said, “Let me find out what we need to know, Blake.”

I wanted to say that I could do it, but we didn’t have time for me to lie to myself. I just nodded.

“We’ve got blueprints of the club. Blake gave a rundown of the interior on the way in. Who’s inside? Where exactly is the hostage being held?”

“Inside: Nicky, Nathaniel, Mephistopheles, and Cynric.”

“Wait,” I said, “why’s Sin here? He’s not a guard, or a dancer.”

Lisandro looked uncomfortable. “Nathaniel’s brought him a couple of times before. He watches the practice, works out some.”

“Why is Sin inside, but you’re safe out here?”

“He wouldn’t leave Nathaniel; neither would Nicky.”

“And Dev?”

“He knew Mephistopheles was your golden tiger. He wanted him to stay. I think he plans to take you and two of your cats.”

“Sin is one of my cats, too.”

“He seemed bothered by how young Cynric is.”

“Blake,” Hill said, “we don’t have time. Is Sin someone important to you, too?”

“Every name he mentioned is a lover, and most of them live with me, most of the time.”

The look of sympathy in Hill’s eyes almost undid me. “I’m sorry, Blake.”

“I’ve lived with Nathaniel for three years, four in June.”

Hill nodded solemnly. “We’ll get him out.”

“I know,” I said, and that was a lie. I didn’t know. I hoped, but in this instance, hope didn’t seem enough.

Hill and the others began to ask Lisandro questions about the bomb, and he knew way more about it than I would have. I’d have been stopped at bomb vest , and I knew what a dead man’s switch was, but not exactly what it looked like. Lisandro reported clearly, quickly.

Hill and a couple of the others nodded. They approved. Hell, I approved, but there was a little song playing in my head: Nathaniel’s in there with a bomb. Nicky’s in there. Sin is in there. Dev is in there. With a bomb. That was the refrain in my head while they asked their good questions and got their answers. It was like an evil song stuck in my head, with the beat of Bomb, bomb, bomb . Fire was the only thing that wereanimals couldn’t heal. Silver could kill them, and other preternaturals’ claws and teeth could cut them up, but if they lived they could heal most if not all of the damage. Fire was the only thing that was permanent damage. In fact, some preternaturals burned faster and more completely than a human.

I had an image in my head of a werewolf I’d seen burn last year from being too close to a rocket when it launched. The human form had gone up in flames and tried to shift to animal in an attempt to heal, but it had ended up burned to death, frozen in between both forms, just a blackened, nightmare shape. I did everything I could not to picture Nathaniel like that, or Sin, or Nicky, or Dev.