Or maybe he was trying to warn me.
"You will do as I say because you want me to stop hurting your friends," she purred.
"The wolves are more worthy targets ...
but there is that delicious policeman--Tony, isn't it? And the boy who works for you.
He has such a big family, doesn't he? Children are so fragile." She looked at Estelle's man, dead almost at her feet.
Stefan stared at her, then looked at me.
And once I saw his eyes, I knew the emotion he was trying to hold back ...
rage.
"You sure?" I asked him.
He nodded.
"Come." I wasn't happy about doing it, but she was right.
I wanted my friends safe.
I sat on the chair and scooted forward until my arms wouldn't be stretched out trying to reach the sharp brass.
I slammed both hands down and tried not to wince as the thorns bit deep--or gasp as magic pulsed in my ears.
"Yum," said Wuife--and I nearly jerked my hands away again.
Could he taste me through the thorns, or was he just trying to harass me? "I sent Stefan to you," Marsilia said.
"Will you tell our audience what he looked like?" I looked at Stefan, and he nodded.
So I described the wizened thing that had fallen to my floor as closely as I could remember it, working to keep my voice impersonal rather than angry or ...
anything else inappropriate.
"Truth," said Wulfe when I finished.
"Why was he in that state?" Marsilia asked.
Stefan nodded so I answered her.
"Because he tried to save my life by covering up my involvement in Andre's ...
death? Destruction? What do you call it when a vampire is killed permanently?" The skin on her face thinned until I could see the bones beneath.
And she was even more beautiful, more terrible in her rage.
"Dead," she said.
"Truth," said Wulfe.
"Stefan tried to cover up your involvement in Andre's death." He looked around.
"I helped cover it up, too.
It seemed the thing to do at the time ...