She frowned at me and waved it all away with those tiny well-manicured hands. "Enough of this." She was intelligent enough to realize she was losing part of this argument, but she wasn't bright enough to know why. So she was moving on to something she thought she could win.
"Even Asher with his ruined beauty is more lovely than you are, Anita."
It was my turn to frown at her. "I think I already said that."
She frowned again. It was like she had been sent with certain lines to say, and I wasn't making the replies she'd expected. I was throwing her performance off, and Musette didn't seem to enjoy improvisation.
"It doesn't bother you that you are not more beautiful than the men?"
"I had to make peace with being the homely one of the group a long time ago."
She frowned so hard it looked painful. "You are a very hard woman to insult."
I shrugged as much as I could with Damian's arms still wrapped around me. "Truth is truth, Musette. I've broken the cardinal girl rule."
"And that would be?"
"Never date anyone prettier than you are."
That made her laugh, a surprised burst of sound. "Non, non, the rule is never to admit it." The smile faded. "You truly have no . . . difficulty with me saying I am more lovely than you."
I shook my head. "Nope."
She looked completely lost for a moment, until her own human servant touched her shoulder. She shuddered, took a deep shaking breath, as if remembering who and what she was, and why she was there. The last sign of laughter faded from her eyes.
"You have admitted that your beauty cannot rival mine, thus taking blood from you would not be a gift worthy of replacing the bauble that Jean-Claude is having made for me. You are correct, also, about your wolf. He is charming, but not as charming as the three of them.
I suddenly had a bad feeling about where this was headed.
"Damian is somehow yours. I do not understand it, but I can feel it. He is yours the way Angelito is mine, and you are Jean-Claude's. As Master of the City, Jean-Claude cannot be drink for the taking, but Asher belongs to no one. Give him to me for my guest gift."
"He is my second in command, my temoin," Jean-Claude said, still in that empty, means-nothing voice, "I would not lightly share him."
"I have met some of your other vampires this night. Meng Die has an animal to call. She is more powerful than Asher, why is she not your second?"
"She is another's second and will be going back to him in a few months."
"Why is she here then?"
"I called her."
"Why?"
The real reason was that while I was off doing my soul-searching Jean-Claude had needed more backup. But I didn't think he'd share that. He didn't. "A master calls home his flock periodically, especially if he thinks they will soon become masters of their own territory. A last visit before he loses the power to call them."
"Belle was most perturbed that you rose to Master of the City without that one last visit, Jean-Claude. She woke speaking your name, saying that you had struck out on your own. None of us thought you would ever rise so high."
He gave a low, sweeping bow, and she was standing so close that his hair almost brushed her skirt. "It is not often that anyone so surprises Belle Morte. I am most honored."
Musette frowned. "You should be. She was most . . . unhappy."
He stood slowly. "Why would my rise to power make her unhappy?"
"Because to be Master of the City is to be beyond the ties of obligation."
Ties of obligation seemed to mean more to the vampires than it did to me, because I felt them go all quiet. Damian was so still around my body that it was like he wasn't there at all. Only the weight of his arms let me know he was still clinging to me. The beat and pulse of his body was gone, tucked away somewhere deep inside.
"But Asher has not risen so high. He could still be called home," she said.