Jean-Claude came to stand beside me. "Willie," he said, his voice vibrated through the room. Willie's body thrummed to the sound like a tuning fork struck. "Willie, look at me."
The blank, familiar face turned slowly towards his master. Something flickered through the eyes for a moment; something moved that I had no name for.
"This has possibilities," Jean-Claude said.
"Willie," I said, "look at me." My voice wasn't nearly as impressive as the vampire's, but Willie turned to me.
"No," Jean-Claude said, "look at me, Willie."
Willie hesitated.
"Willie," I said, "come to me." I held out a hand and he took a step towards me.
Jean-Claude said, "Stop, Willie, do not go to her."
Willie hesitated, almost turning to Jean-Claude.
I concentrated on that curl of power inside of me, that thing that allowed me to raise the dead and let it wash over me, flow out of me. I called Willie's body to me and nothing Jean-Claude could do would get him to turn away from me.
Richard said, "Stop it, both of you. He isn't a doll."
"He isn't alive, either," I said.
"He deserves better than this," Richard said.
I agreed. I turned to Jean-Claude. "He's mine, Jean-Claude. They're all mine. When night falls, they will be yours again, but their empty shells are mine." I stepped close to him, and that swirl of power lashed out.
He took a hissing breath and backed up. Holding his hand as if I'd struck him.
"Never forget what I am and what I can do. No more threats between us, ever, or it will be the last threat."
He stared at me, and for just a second, there was a flash of something I hadn't seen before: fear. Fear of me for the first time. Good.
Willie stared at me with empty, waiting eyes. He was dead, well and truly dead. Tears flowed down my face, tight and hard. Poor Willie, poor me. He wasn't human. All these months of being his friend and he was dead. Just dead. Damn.
"What happened to the first vampire you raised, ma petite? Why didn't you put it back into its coffin?" A thought slid behind his eyes. I watched the idea form, and fall from his lips. "How did Monsieur Bouvier get the lower half of his body melted away?"
Magnus Bouvier had been Serephina's mortal servant. It had been his job to keep me near Serephina's coffin until she rose to finish me off. I scrubbed at my face, trying to get rid of the tears. Always ruins the effect when you cry. "You know the answer," I said. My voice sounded strained and small.
"Say it aloud, ma petite, let me hear it from your own lips."
"I feel like I'm missing part of this conversation," Richard said, "What are you two talking about?"
"Tell him, ma petite."
"The vampire grabbed Magnus around the waist and held on. I'd planned on it slowing him down, nothing else. I got to the door and ran outside. The sunlight hit the vampire and it burst into flames. I expected Magnus to go back inside, but he didn't. He kept coming, dragging her into the light." Saying it fast didn't make it any better.
I stood in the middle of the dead I had called, hugging myself. I still had dreams about Serephina. Still saw Magnus reaching out to me, begging me to save him. I could have shot him and never lost a moment's sleep, but burning him alive was torture. I didn't do torture. Not to mention that Ellie Quinlan had already risen as a vampire, which made her legally alive. I'd killed them both, and it hadn't been pretty.
Richard was looking at me, a look of something close to horror on his face. "You burned the man and the vampire alive?" I watched the brown in his eyes swim back to the surface. The entire shape of the eye changed while I watched. It looked almost like it should hurt. If it did hurt, he never showed it.
"I didn't plan it, Richard. I didn't want it to happen, but I would have done anything to escape Serephina. Anything."
"I don't understand that."
"I know," I said.
"There is no shame in surviving, ma petite." I turned to Jean-Claude. There was no shock on his face. It was lovely and unreadable as a doll's.