Лорел Гамильтон - Danse Macabre

I shook my head. «Not if everyone else has them, Graham. Silver bullets don't let you get close.»

He shrugged those massive shoulders. «Richard is Ulfric; if you want to change policy, take it up with him. I'm just doing what I'm told.»

I sighed. I loved Richard, really I did, but we had some serious differences of opinion.

Graham eased past us, but stopped on the step below the landing. He looked up, but not like he was happy. «I was hoping that Jean-Claude would have joined us by now.»

I gave him a look. «What do you mean, joined us? Jean-Claude is waiting downstairs with our guests, right?»

He shook his head. «There was an emergency upstairs.»

«Asher is managing the Circus; he should be able to take care of any emergencies.»

Graham licked his lips. «I don't know the details, because I was left down here to wait for you, but Meng Die did something. Something that made Asher call for Jean-Claude to help him.»

Meng Die was a petite Chinese doll, or that's what she looked like. But she, like me, didn't really match the packaging. She'd been the second-in-command in San Francisco, before Jean-Claude called in all the vamps he'd made in this country to help bolster his defenses. Her master had been happy to let her go, because she'd been nights away from a palace revolt that would have left him dead and her in charge. In fact, he wouldn't take her back, though Jean-Claude had offered.

Meng Die wanted to be Jean-Claude's second-in-command, but that was Asher's job. Then all the vamps had come from London after their master went crazy and had to be killed. Suddenly Meng Die was just another master vampire in a kiss that was lousy with master vamps. She was powerful enough to be third, or maybe even second, but temperamentally, she wasn't suited to be that close to any throne. Too dangerous. Too ambitious.

«What the hell did she do now?» I asked.

Graham shrugged. «I don't know.»

«I thought you were almost her pomme de sang» Nathaniel said.

«I was,» he said.

«You don't seem too worried about her.»

He shrugged those big shoulders. «She keeps promising to make me, or Clay, her pomme de sang , but she never makes the decision. She was still fucking Requiem, too, until he started turning her down.»

«Requiem isn't sharing Meng Die's bed anymore?» I asked.

«No.»

I frowned. «Did he find a new girlfriend?»

Graham licked his lips again. «Sort of.»

«I know that look, Graham, that's your I-have-more-bad-news-and-I-don't-want-to-tell-it look. Spill it, all of it.»

He sighed again. «Damn it, if you're not my girlfriend you shouldn't be able to read me that easily.»

It was my turn to shrug. «Just tell me.»

«Requiem thinks that the reason you've turned him down as your new pomme de sang is because he was fucking Meng Die. He said you're not a woman who shares your men.»

I didn't know whether to scream, or curse, or laugh. «Did he tell Meng Die that?» I asked.

«I don't know. He told me. He told Clay.»

«Did you tell Meng Die?» I asked.

He shook his head. «I am not that stupid. She takes bad news a hell of a lot worse than you do.»

«Is Clay that stupid?» I asked.

«Requiem told her,» Micah said, voice soft.

We all looked at him. «You know that?» I asked.

He shook his head. «But it would be something he would do, not to cause trouble, but to be honest with her.»

I thought about it, then had to agree. «Damn, he would. I wonder if he told her recently?»

«Did you turn her down?» Nathaniel asked Graham.

He gave the quick grin again. «No. She may not hold the ardeur , but the sex is still amazing. I've done vamps before, but never Belle Morte's bloodline. If Meng Die is an example of what they have to offer in bed, then my new goal in life is to be one of their pommes de sang .»

«I thought you wanted to be Anita's pomme ,» Nathaniel said.

Graham looked a little startled, as if he'd said more than he'd meant to say. «If Anita would feed the ardeur off me, just once, I might never look at another woman, but until she does…«He let the sentence fade, but it summed up why Graham was not a strong contender for me. He didn't really want me, he wanted the ardeur . If any of the other female vamps from London had held the ardeur , he'd have chased them instead of me, or as well as me. Not very flattering — to him, or to me.

«Until I do, you're keeping your options open,» I said.

He shrugged. «I gave all my options up for Meng Die, and she kept Clay and Requiem on her string. I shared her with Clay in a way I've never shared anyone.» He looked sad for a moment, then it passed. I wasn't sure if it passed because his sorrow was that shallow, or he had pushed it away. «Anita isn't going to give up all of you guys for me. Why should I give up everyone else just for a chance to be in her bed? I mean, just for a chance, not even the certainty of it.»

«I didn't ask Requiem to sacrifice his libido to me.»

«You never ask anyone to give up other people for you, but if they don't, you don't sleep with them,» Graham said.

And that was a little closer to the truth than I wanted to hear. I hadn't asked Requiem to give up Meng Die, but the fact that he was fucking her had been a point against him. Why? One, because I simply did not like her. Two, Graham was right, I didn't share my men. Not with other women. The fact that I then expected them to share me with about half a dozen other men, well… Not fair. Not fair at all.

THE STAIRS ENDED in a small room with a door at the other end of it. The door was heavy wood and metal like the door to a dungeon, and in front of that door stood Clay, werewolf and bodyguard. He came toward us, hurrying, which wasn't good. The look on his face wasn't good either. He looked worried.

Graham was all business, the mantle of bodyguardness sliding over him so that that was all that was left. When he actually concentrated on business instead of trying to get into my pants, he was one of the best of the wolves for bodyguard duty. «What's wrong?» he asked.

Clay shook his head. «Jean-Claude isn't with you?» His tone of voice made it half question.

«No,» Graham said.

«What's wrong?» I asked, thinking maybe if we kept asking the question he'd answer it.

«Nothing.» He looked at me, and smiled an apology. «Nothing except that we've got a room full of guests and no hosts. It's just me and the four other bodyguards in the room. We aren't even allowed to offer refreshments without one of the dominants being present.»

«Are you this worried because you think we're being bad hosts?» Micah asked.

Clay seemed to think about it, then nodded. He did that apologetic smile again. «Yeah, I guess I am.»

Clay was as tall as Graham, but his hair was blond, curly, and careless. Where Graham took time and attention with his appearance, Clay just didn't seem to care. He wasn't sloppy, just comfortable. He was wearing the same black-on-black outfit, but he'd put black jogging shoes with his slacks, not dress shoes. He looked good, but a little uncomfortable out of his jeans. I sympathized.

«Stupid,» he said, «but yeah, I think the evening is starting off badly. I mean, Jean-Claude gets a message and has to run out. The two Masters of the City are all right so far, but the two women are sniping at each other. The muscle, or food, or whatever they are, just stands around looking grim, or pouty-seductive. It has the feel of something that could go south if we don't have someone to help keep it friendly.»

I took that last seriously. Clay worked security at Guilty Pleasures, and he was good at spotting trouble before it got started. It made him invaluable at the club.