He looked down at Jason and me. His strange good humor had returned. He smiled down at me, and even with blood staining his mouth he was beautiful. His eyes glittered with some amusing secret. He was full of himself in a way I'd never seen before.
"I do not know if my companions are able to walk. They're feeling a little drained." He chuckled at his own joke, putting a hand in front of his eyes, as if it was too funny even for him.
"You are drunk," I said.
He nodded. "I believe I am."
"You can't be drunk on blood."
"I've drunk deep of two mortals, but neither of you are human."
I didn't want to hear this. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Necromancer with a chaser of werewolf; a drink to make any vampire giddy." He giggled. Jean-Claude never giggled.
I ignored him, if you can ignore an intoxicated vampire. "Jason, can you stand?"
"I think so." His voice was thick, heavy but not sleepy, more the languor after sex. Maybe I was glad my bite had hurt.
"Larry?"
Larry walked over to us, glancing at Magnus, gun na**d in his hand. He didn't look happy. "Can we trust him?"
"We're going to," I said. "Help me stand up, and let's get out of here before fangface busts a gut."
Jean-Claude was doubled over with laughter. He seemed to think "fangface" was outrageously funny. Ye gods.
Larry helped me stand, and after a second of dizziness I was okay. He offered a hand to Jason without being asked. Jason swayed on his feet, but stayed standing.
"Can you walk?"
"If you can, I can," he said.
A man after my own heart. I took a step, another, and was on my way across the room. Jason and Larry followed. Jean-Claude staggered to his feet, still laughing softly.
Magnus was standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting for us. He had the jacket slung over one arm. He'd even found the ribbon to tie back his hair.
Jason walked wide around the torn bodies of his two would-be lovers and picked his shirt off the floor. The shirt covered the mess on his chest, but the goo was still on his face, and his hair was stiff and nearly as dark as his pants.
Even the back of Jean-Claude's clothes and hair were thick with congealing blood. I had my own share of blood and goop. Good thing I wore mostly black tonight; didn't show dirt as badly. The crimson blouse was looking a little worse for wear.
Larry was the only one without any blood or gore on him. Here was hoping he could keep up the good work.
The two girls had hidden under the stairs while we discussed things. I was betting it was the brown-haired girl's idea to hide. Lisa seemed too scared to think, let alone do anything smart. Not that I could blame her, but hysteria gets you nowhere but dead.
The brown-haired girl walked over to Larry. The blonde came along for the ride, her hands dug so tightly into the other one's torn blouse it would have taken surgery to remove them.
"We just want to go home now. Can we do that?" Her voice was a little breathy, but for the most part solid. I stared into her brown eyes and nodded.
Larry looked at me.
"Magnus," I said.
He raised his eyebrows, still waiting by the stairs like a tour guide, or a butler ready to escort us up. "You called?"
"I want the girls to leave now, safe."
He glanced at them. "I don't see why not. Serephina had us collect them mostly for your benefit, Anita. They've served their purpose."