The Harlequin - By Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,8

"No, it hadn't occurred to me."

"Think upon it, ma petite."

"You mean, they send something, so that if you tell me about it, then it, or they, can kill us. You think someone on the council is counting on the fact that we're so tightly bound metaphysically that you can't keep a secret this big from me. And if I find out, it won't just be Malcolm that they'll kill, but us, too."

"It is a thought, ma petite?"

"A very twisty-turny, underhanded thought."

"Vampires are a very twisty-turny lot, ma petite. As for underhanded, they would think of it as clever."

"They can think what they like, but it's a coward's way."

"Oh, no, ma petite, we do not want anyone on the council to put their full attention in a challenge to me. That would also be a very bad thing."

"So, what? I meet Nathaniel for our date, and I pretend we haven't had this talk?"

"Something like that, yes."

"I can't pretend that I don't know something big and bad has come to town."

"If it is not hunting us, be grateful, and do not pick at it. I beg you, Anita, for the sake of all you love, do not seek an answer to this riddle." He'd called me by my real name; it was a bad sign.

"I can't just pretend nothing is happening, Jean-Claude. Aren't you even going to tell me to be more careful than normal?"

"You are always careful, ma petite. I never worry that any bad thing will catch you unaware. It is one of your charms for me that you can take care of yourself."

"Even against something bad enough to scare you and Malcolm this badly."

"I trust you, ma petite. Do you trust me?"

That was a loaded question, but finally I said, "Yeah."

"You do not sound certain."

"I trust you, but... I don't like secrets, and I do not trust the council. And I have a warrant of execution on a vamp who is probably innocent. I've got a second warrant coming by tomorrow. They are both members of the Church of Eternal Life. I may not agree with Malcolm's philosophy, but his members usually stay away from killing offenses. If I get a warrant of execution for a third member of Malcolm's church this week, then it's a frame. The law, as written, doesn't give me much wiggle room, Jean-Claude."

"Actually, it gives you a great deal of wiggle room, ma petite."

"Yeah, yeah, but if I don't use the warrant in a timely manner, I may have to answer to my superiors. I'm a federal marshal now, and they can call me on the carpet and make me explain my actions."

"Have they done that to any of the new marshals yet?"

"Not yet. But if I've got a warrant, and other murders with the same MO keep happening, I'll need an explanation as to why I haven't killed Sally Hunter. The police, whatever the flavor, won't accept 'it's a secret' as an answer if people keep dying."

"How many humans are dead?"

"One victim per warrant, but if I hesitate on the warrants, will whoever this is escalate the violence and force my hand?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly," I said.

"Oui."

"You know, this could get ugly really fast."

"You have used your discretionary powers to get warrants vacated in the past. You saved our Avery."

"He is not 'our' Avery."

"He would be yours, if you would let him." There was the faintest of tones in his voice.

"Are you jealous of Avery Seabrook? He's like only two years dead."

"Not jealous in the way you mean."

"Then how?"

"It was my blood he drank when he took oath to me, ma petite, but it is not me he watches. I should be his master, but I think if we both ordered him to do opposite things, I am not certain I would win the contest."

"Are you saying that my hold on him is stronger than yours?"

"I am saying it is a possibility."

It was my turn for silence. I was a necromancer, not just an animator of zombies, but a real, true necromancer. I could control more than just zombies. We were still trying to figure out how much more.

"Malcolm said he wasn't sure which of us was victim and which victimizer anymore."

"He is foolish, but not a fool."

"I think I understood that," I said.

"Then I will be plain. Go on your date with Nathaniel, celebrate your almost-anniversary This is not our fight, not yet, perhaps not ever. Do not make it our fight, for it could be the death of everyone we love."

"Oh, thanks, and with

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