to feed on it, to draw in all that rage. I had a moment of feeling that I had a choice whether to swallow it, or use it to be angry myself. That was new; usually it was just food. I "ate" the anger, letting it soak into me.
Alex stared up at me, still on the floor, on his knees, one arm braced. "What just happened?" he asked. His energy had completely changed; he felt normal, felt like himself.
"I ate your anger. Why are you so pissed?"
"I have no idea."
Movement made me look back at Ethan. He shuddered with the pipe halfway out of his side. That one movement let me know how hurt he was. Yes, he'd heal if it wasn't silver, but that didn't stop having a pipe shoved through your side from hurting like hell. I couldn't imagine trying to drag my body down it. I was thinking about it too hard, and my stomach clenched with nausea.
"What do you mean you have no idea, Alex?" I asked.
"I don't know," he said. He looked up at me, and then called out, "George, come help us." I turned and found another guard in the white T-shirt and khaki pants that passed as their uniform. His short, thick hair was the traditional deep, almost-black red, his eyes like orange and yellow pinwheels of fire. There was a slight gold tinge that just added to the exotic effect that some of the reds had.
"My prince," he said, and literally dropped to one knee, his fist coming back to touch his chest. I raised an eyebrow at that, because I'd never seen anything that formal at any of the other clans. It was like medieval formal.
"Help Ethan."
"As my prince wills," George said, and stood.
I heard a gasp of pain behind me, and the sound of a body falling. I turned to find Ethan on the floor, on his knees, his hands catching him from falling. His skin was almost gray and beaded with sweat from the pain and shock. But even as I watched, the blood flow was lessening. His body was beginning to heal itself. A wave of relief that I hadn't known I needed swept through me. It wasn't that Ethan meant that much to me yet, but getting him killed for plain stupid jealousy would have just been so unfair.
George, the guard, was only partway to Ethan when the anger came back. One minute Alex was standing, wiping the blood off his face, his usual calm self, and the next he was snarling and hit the wounded man twice before Ethan could defend himself. They came up off the floor in a snarling, pounding mass.
I tried to eat the rage again, but it was as if I slid off it. I couldn't reach the anger. Something was blocking me. The men began to beat on each other in a snarling, pounding mass.
I turned to the guard. "Stop them."
"If my prince wishes to discipline him, it is not my place to interfere."
"Seriously?" I asked.
George gave a little smile, shrugged, and said, "Seriously, I'm not crossing the Red Queen just for Ethan."
"You are a useless piece of shit," I said.
He frowned at me. "'Off with your head' isn't just for Alice in Wonderland's Red Queen, Anita Blake."
I had a second to think about the fact that this Red Queen beheaded her guards for disobedience, and then the fight took all our attention. If Ethan had been well, he'd have just kicked Alex's ass; it showed in the fact that he was beginning to win even as hurt as he was. Alex was strong, fast, in good shape, but his day job was as a reporter. He had a chance to hit the gym and probably even took some kind of fighting class, but Ethan did nothing but train. He did nothing but make himself a better fighting machine, and as his body began to knit together, he began to hit back with more force, block more of Alex's blows. It was the difference between an amateur and a professional in a fight; unless the amateur gets lucky early, he will lose.
Alex took another hit to the face and it spun him around. He tried to turn back, but Ethan kicked out and took his knee. I heard the meaty pop of it. Alex screamed and went down. Ethan kicked him in the face. Blood sprayed, and the screaming stopped. Alex fell to the floor unconscious. If he'd been human I'd