"It wouldn't be bleeding this much if they hadn't been alive," I said.
"Yes, ma petite."
He was right. I did know that. But the sight of a human skin nailed to a door had thrown me. It was a first, even for me. "Sweet Jesus, do the silver nails mean the victim was vampire or lycanthrope?"
"Most likely," Jean-Claude said.
"Does that mean they're still alive?"
He looked at me. His look managed to be empty and eloquent all at the same time. "They were alive when the skin was removed. If vampire, or lycanthrope, the mere removal of the skin would not be sufficient to kill them."
A shudder ran through me from head to feet. It wasn't exactly fear. It was horror. Horror at the casualness of it, the callousness of it. "Asher mentioned Padma. Is he the Beast Master?"
"The Master of Beasts," Jean-Claude said. "You cannot kill him for this indiscretion, ma petite."
"You're wrong," I said. The horror was there like a coating of ice underneath my skin, but over that was anger. Rage. And under the rage was fear. Fear of anyone that would skin another person alive just to make a point. Told you something about a person. Told you how few rules they had. Told me, in no uncertain terms, that I should kill him as soon as I saw him.
"We cannot punish them for this tonight, ma petite. Tonight is about survival for all of us. Remember that and curb your anger."
I stared at the thing on the door. "I am way past anger."
"Then curb your rage. We must save the rest of our people."
"If they're alive."
"They were alive when I came upstairs to wait for you," Liv said.
"Who's skin is it?" I asked.
She laughed, and it was her usual bray. All healed, all better. "Guess," she said. "If you guess right, I'll tell you, but only if you guess right."
It took more control than was pretty not to point the Browning at her. I shook my head. "No games, Liv, not with you. The real games don't even begin until we get downstairs."
"Well said, ma petite. Let us go down."
"No," Liv said. "No, you'll guess. You'll guess who it is. I want to see your face. I want to see the pain in your eyes while you think about each of your friends, Anita. I want to watch the horror on your face while you picture it happening to each of them."
"What did I ever do to you, Liv?"
"You stood in my way," she said.
I shook my head and pointed the gun at her. "Three strikes and you're out, Liv."
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Betraying us was one. Trying to roll me with your eyes was number two. That was partly my fault, so I would have let it go. But you took an oath to protect all of Jean-Claude's people. You swore to use that wonderful body, that strength, to protect those weaker than yourself. Whoever belongs to that skin was someone you swore to protect. Instead, you betrayed them. Delivered them over to hell. Strike three, Liv."
"You can't kill me, Anita. The Traveler will heal me, no matter what you do."
I shot her in the right kneecap. She fell to the floor, holding the shattered leg, writhing, screaming.
I felt myself smile, most unpleasant. "I hope it hurts, Liv. I hope it hurts like hell."
The temperature in the room dropped like a stone. It felt cold enough that I half expected to see my breath. Liv's screams stopped, and she stared up at me with her violet eyes. If looks could have killed, I'd have dropped on the spot.
"You cannot harm me, Anita. My master will not allow it." Liv got to her feet with the faintest of limps. She walked to the door with its awful burden. She stretched the edge of the thing, showing holes in the skin that had nothing to do with the skinning process. "I fed on him while they tortured him. I drank his blood while he screamed." Her fingers came away stained with blood. She licked them clean, sliding her fingers in and out of her mouth. "Hmm, tasty."
All I had to do was guess who it was, and she'd tell me. All I had to do was play her game. I shot her in the other knee.