"You're supposed to be unobtrusive."
She looked puzzled. "I'm supposed to keep you safe."
"Then sit down and pretend to be my friend. The trap won't work if I look like I'm being guarded."
She knelt by me; too far to bend down, I suppose. "I will not risk being given to Sabin. I don't care if your assassin knows I'm here or not."
It was hard to blame her, but I was willing to make the effort. I leaned into her. "Look, either work with the program, or get away from me."
"I obey Jean-Claude, not his strumpet."
As far as I could remember, I'd never done anything in my life to deserve being called a strumpet. "Jean-Claude said if you failed him, he'd give you to the rotting corpse, right?"
Liv nodded. Her eyes searched the crowd behind me. She really was trying to do the job, and the effort showed.
"He didn't say you'd be punished if I got hurt, did he?"
Liv's eyes flicked to me. "What are you saying?"
"If you scare away the hitter and spoil the plan, that's failure."
She shook her head. "No, that's not what he meant."
"He said never to fail him again."
I watched her try to work out the logic. I was betting that logic wasn't one of her strong points.
"Clever, Anita, but if you get killed, Jean-Claude will punish me. You know he will."
I was wrong. She was a lot smarter than she looked. "But if you spoil our plan, he'll punish you anyway."
Fear flashed through her eyes. "I'm trapped."
I felt sorry for her. Pity for two monsters--no three--in one night. I was losing my edge. "If I don't get killed, I'll make sure you don't get punished."
"You swear it?" She said the phrase like it meant more. Giving your oath was not a casual thing to her. A lot of vampires came from times when a man's or a woman's word was their bond.
"I give you my word."
She stayed kneeling for a moment longer, then stood. "Try not to get killed." She moved into the crowd, leaving me on my own, like I'd asked.
The rest of the tables filled up quickly. The crowd spilled around the edges of the room on the raised area around the dance floor. So many people stood at the fenced edges that if the table had been by the wall, I'd have lost my view of the dance floor. Under other circumstances, I'd have appreciated the thoughtfulness. Another bodyguard could come along at any time. I was ready for some company.
The crowd filled the two levels above, standing room only. I looked for Sabin's dark cloak, but didn't see him. The main dance floor was untouched. The way to the floor was barred by half a dozen vampires. They had quietly but firmly motioned everybody back to the sides of the room. Both male and female were dressed nearly identically, black lycra pants, boots, and black fishnet shirts. The women wore black bras under their shirts, but that was the only difference. I approved. Short little skirts or hot pants for the women would have pissed me off. The thought occurred that maybe Jean-Claude had dressed them with me in mind. He knew me too well in some ways and didn't have a clue in others.
I scanned the crowd for Edward and for anything suspicious, but it was hard to pick out any one person in the jostling, laughing crowd. I couldn't spot Edward. I had to just trust that he was there somewhere. And although I did trust him to be there, the tightness in my chest didn't ease.
Edward had cautioned me to be casual, not to look suspicious. Outwardly, I was trying. Inwardly, I was almost dizzy searching the crowd and that painful empty spot to the right and almost behind me where the railing went. I put my hands in my lap and forced myself to look down. If the assassin came now, I wouldn't be looking, but I had to get hold of myself. If I didn't, I was going to be so busy jumping at shadows, I wouldn't be ready when the real thing came. I was beginning to wish I'd let Liv stay.
I took deep, even breaths, in and out, concentrating on the rhythm of my own body. When I could hear the blood flowing inside my head, I raised my face slowly.
I stared calmly out at the crowd and the dance floor. I felt empty, distant, calm. Much better.
A vampire came up to the railing in front of my table. Willie McCoy was dressed in a suit so horribly green it could only be called chartreuse. Green shirt, and a wide tie with Godzilla crushing Tokyo on it. No one would ever accuse Willie of matching any decor.
I smiled. I couldn't help it. Willie had been one of the first vampires to ever cross that line from monster to friend. He scooted one of the chairs around so his back was to the open space. He sat down like he hadn't done it on purpose. I didn't have to pretend to be happy to see him.
He had to lean a bit into me to be heard over the crowd's rising murmur. I could smell the sweet scent of the goop he used to slick back his short hair. Him being this close didn't even make me tense. I trusted Willie more than I trusted Jean-Claude.
"How ya doing, Anita?" He grinned enough to show fang. Willie hadn't been dead three years yet. He was one of the few vamps I'd known before and after death.
"I've been better," I said.
"Jean-Claude said we were to bodyguard you, but to keep it casual. We'll drift in and out. But you looked spooked."
I shook my head, smiling. "That obvious?"
"To someone who knows ya, yeah."
We smiled at each other. Looking into Willie's face from inches away, I realized that he was on my list. The list that Stephen was on. If someone killed Willie, I'd hunt them down. It surprised me to realize that any vamp had made the list. But Willie had, and come to think of it, I guess, so had one other vampire.
Jean-Claude appeared on the far side of the club. Speak of the devil. A spotlight hit him from somewhere. It had to be coming from a fly loft, but it was hidden away so that it was hard to tell. A perfect place for a high-powered rifle. Stop it, Anita. Stop tormenting yourself.
I hadn't truly realized how crowded the opening would be. Edward by himself searching for one lone assassin in this mass of people would have been poor odds. Maybe the vamps and werewolves were amateurs, but their extra eyes couldn't hurt.
The lights began dimming until the only illumination was the spotlight on Jean-Claude. He seemed to glow. I wasn't sure if it was a trick or if he was making his own light from the skin outward. Hard to tell. Whichever, I was in the dark with an assassin, maybe, and I was not a happy camper.
Hell with it. I put the Seecamp in my lap. Better. Not perfect, but better. The fact that just the touch of a gun in my hand made me feel better was probably a bad sign. The fact that I missed my own guns was a worse one.
Willie touched my shoulder and made me jump enough that people near us glanced back. Shit.
He whispered, "I got your back covered. Easy."
Willie would make great cannon fodder, but he wasn't up to protecting me. He'd been a bit player before he died, and dying hadn't changed that. I realized if the shooting started and the bad guys were using silver bullets, I was worried about Willie. Worrying about your bodyguard is not good.
Jean-Claude's voice rose through the darkness, filling it with a sound that caressed my skin. A woman standing near the table shivered as if she'd been touched. Her date put his arm around her shoulders, and they huddled in the dark, surrounded by Jean-Claude's voice.
"Welcome to Danse Macabre. The night will be filled with surprises. Some wondrous." Two smaller spotlights hit the crowd. Cassandra appeared balanced on the railing on the second floor. She swept the coat back, revealing her body, stalking along the inches-wide iron bar like it was the floor, nearly dancing. Wild applause broke out. The second spot hit Damian on the first floor. He glided out of the crowd, swishing the embroidered coat around him like a small cape. If he felt silly in the outfit, it didn't show.
He moved through the crowd with the spotlight following him. He touched a shoulder here, ran his hands through waist-length hair, put his arm around one woman's waist. Each one, man or woman, didn't seem to mind. They leaned into him or whispered in his ear. He came to a woman with long brown hair parted in the middle. She was dressed rather modestly for the crowd. Navy blue business skirt and jacket. Her white blouse had one of those big bows that are supposed to look like a tie but never do. Of the women around Damian, she looked the most normal. He circled her so closely that his body brushed her. She jerked away from every touch, eyes wide with fear I could see, even from across the room.
I wanted to say, "Leave her alone," but I didn't want to yell. Jean-Claude wouldn't allow anything illegal, at least not in front of this many witnesses. Bespelling a group of people wasn't illegal. Mass hypnosis wasn't permanent. But one on one, it was permanent. Which meant that Damian could stand under the woman's window and call her out some dark night, no time limitation.