I didn't like the way he said that last. "Safe, Magnus, no more harm. Are we clear on what that means?"
He smiled. "They walk out the door, and go home. Is that clear enough for you?"
"Why so cooperative all of a sudden?"
"Would letting them go be apology enough?" Magnus asked.
"Yeah, if they go free, unharmed. I'll accept her apology."
He nodded. "Then consider it done."
"Don't you have to check with your master first?"
"My master whispers sweetly to me, Anita, and I obey." He smiled while he said it, but there was a tightness around his eyes, an involuntary flexing of his hands.
"You don't like being her lap dog."
"Perhaps, but there's not much I can do about it." He started up the stairs. "Shall we go up?"
Jean-Claude paused at the bottom of the stairs. "Do you need some help, ma petite? I have taken quite a bit of your blood. You do not recover as quickly as my wolf."
Truthfully, the stairs looked longer going up than they had coming down. But I shook my head. "I can make it."
"Of that, ma petite, I have no doubt." He stepped close to me, but did not whisper; instead I felt him in my mind. "You are weak, ma petite. Let me help you."
"Stop doing that, dammit."
He smiled and sighed. "As you like, ma petite." He walked up the steps like he could have flown, barely touching them. Larry and the girls went up next; none of them seemed tired. I slogged up after them. Jason brought up the rear. He looked hollow-eyed. It may have felt good, but donating that much blood is still rough, even on the temporarily furry. If Jean-Claude had offered to carry him up the stairs, would he have agreed?
Jason caught me looking, but he didn't smile; he just stared back. Maybe he'd have said no, too. Weren't we all just being uncooperative tonight?
Chapter 27
The silken drapes had been drawn aside. A throne sat in the far right-hand corner. There was no other word for it; "chair" just didn't cover that golden, bejeweled thing. Cushions were scattered on the floor around it, heaped like they should be covered with harem girls, or at least small pampered dogs. Nothing sat on them. It was like an empty stage waiting for the actors to appear.
A small wall-hanging on the back wall had been pushed aside to reveal a door. The door had been wedged open with a triangular piece of wood. The spring air poured through the open door, chasing back the smell of decay. I started to say "Come on, girls," but the wind changed. It blew harder, colder, and I knew it wasn't wind at all. My skin prickled, the fine muscles along my arms and shoulders twitching with it.
"What is that?" Larry asked.
"Ghosts," I said.
"Ghosts? What the hell are ghosts doing here?"
"Serephina can call ghosts," Jean-Claude said. "It is a unique ability among us."
Kissa appeared in the doorway. Her right arm hung loose at her side. Blood dripped down her arm in a slow, heavy line.
"Your handiwork?" I asked.
Larry nodded. "I shot her, but it didn't seem to slow her down much."
"You hurt her."
Larry widened his eyes. "Great." He didn't sound great when he said it. Wounded master vampires get cranky as hell.
"Serephina bids you come outside," Kissa said.
Magnus dropped to the cushions, boneless as a cat. He looked like he'd curled up there before.