He sat on the leather couch dressed all in black. The shirt had a high, stiff collar that framed his face. It was hard to tell where his hair left off and the shirt began. The collar was pinned at his throat, with a thumb-size ruby pendant. The shirt was open down to his belt, leaving a triangle of pale, pale skin showing. Only the pendant kept the shirt from opening completely.
The cuffs were as wide and stiff as the collar, nearly hiding his hands. He raised one hand and I could see the cuffs were open on one side so he could still use his hands. Black jeans and velvet black boots completed the outfit.
I'd seen the pendant before, but the shirt was certainly new. "Spiffy," I said.
He smiled. "Do you like it?" He straightened the cuffs, as if they needed it.
"It's a nice change from white," I said.
"Stephen, we were expecting you earlier." His voice was mild enough, but there was an undertaste of something dark and unpleasant.
"Stephen took me to the doctor."
His midnight blue eyes turned back to me. "Is your latest police investigation getting rough?"
"No," I said. I glanced at Gretchen. She was looking at Jean-Claude.
"Tell him," she said.
I didn't think she was referring to my accusing her of trying to kill me. It was time for a little honesty, or at least a little drama. I was sure Jean-Claude wouldn't disappoint us.
"Stephen needs to leave now," I said. I didn't want him getting killed trying to protect me. He wasn't up to being anything but cannon fodder. Not against Jean-Claude.
"Why?" he asked. He sounded suspicious.
"Get on with it," Gretchen said.
I shook my head. "Stephen doesn't need to be here."
"Get out, Stephen," Jean-Claude said. "I am not angry with you for missing your set. Anita is more important to me than your being on time to your job."
That was nice to know.
Stephen gave a sort of bob, almost a bow to Jean-Claude, flashed a look at me, and hesitated. "Go on, Stephen. I'll be all right."
I didn't have to reassure him twice. He fled.
"What have you been up to, ma petite?"
I glanced at Gretchen. She had eyes only for him. Her face looked hungry, as if she'd waited for this a long time. I stared into his dark blue eyes and realized that I could without vampire marks; I could meet his eyes.
Jean-Claude noticed it, too. His eyes widened just a bit. "Ma petite, you are full of surprises tonight."
"You ain't seen nothing yet," I said.
"By all means, continue. I do love a surprise."
I doubted he'd like this one. I took a deep breath and said it fast, as if that would make it go down better, like a spoonful of sugar. "Richard asked me to marry him, and I said yes." I could have added, "But I'm not sure anymore," but I didn't. I was too confused to offer up anything but the bare facts. If he tried to kill me, maybe I'd add details. Until then... we'd wait it out.
Jean-Claude just sat there. He didn't move at all. The heater clicked on, and I jumped. The vent was above the couch. The air played along his hair, the cloth of his shirt, but it was like watching a mannequin. The hair and clothes worked but the rest was stone.
The silence stretched and filled the room. The heater died, and the quiet was so profound I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. It was like the stillness before creation. You knew something big was coming. You just didn't know quite what. I let the silence flow around me. I wouldn't be the one to break it, because I was afraid of what came next. This utter calmness was more unnerving than anger would have been. I didn't know what to do with it, so I did nothing. A course of action I seldom regret.
It was Gretchen who broke first. "Did you hear her, Jean-Claude? She is to wed another. She loves another."
He blinked once, a long, graceful sweep of lashes. "Ask her now if she loves me, Gretchen."
Gretchen stepped in front of me, blocking Jean-Claude from view. "What does it matter? She's going to marry someone else."
"Ask her." It was a command.
Gretchen whirled to face me. The bones in her face stood out under the skin, lips thin with rage. "You don't love him."
It wasn't exactly a question, so I didn't answer it. Jean-Claude's voice came lazy and full of some dark meaning that I didn't understand. "Do you love me, ma petite?"
I stared into Gretchen's rage-filled face and said, "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said no?"
"Can you not simply say yes?"
"Yes, in some dark, twisted part of my soul, I love you. Happy?"
He smiled. "How can you marry him if you love me?"
"I love him, too, Jean-Claude."
"In the same way?"
"No," I said.
"How do you love us differently?"
The questions were getting trickier. "How am I supposed to explain something to you that I don't even understand myself?"
"Try."
"You're like great Shakespearean tragedy. If Romeo and Juliet hadn't committed suicide, they'd have hated each other in a year. Passion is a form of love, but it isn't real. It doesn't last."
"And how do you feel about Richard?" His voice was full of some strong emotion. It should have been anger, but it felt different from that. Almost as if it were an emotion I didn't have a word for.
"I don't just love Richard, I like him. I enjoy his company. I..." I hated explaining myself. "Oh, hell, Jean-Claude, I can't put it into words. I can see spending my life with Richard, and I can't see it with you."
"Have you set a date?"
"No," I said.
He cocked his head to one side, studying me. "It is the truth but there is some bit of lie to it. What are you holding back, ma petite?"
I frowned at him. "I've told you the truth."
"But not all of it."
I didn't want to tell him. He'd enjoy it too much. I felt vaguely disloyal to Richard. "I'm not completely sure about marrying Richard."
"Why not?" There was something in his face that was almost hopeful. I couldn't let him get the wrong idea.
"I saw him go all spooky. I felt his... power."
"And?"
"And now I'm not sure," I said.
"He's not human enough for you, either." He threw back his head and laughed. A joyous outpouring of sound that coated me like chocolate. Heavy and sweet and annoying.
"She loves another," Gretchen said. "Does it matter if she doubts him? She doubts you. She rejects you, Jean-Claude. Isn't that enough?"
"Did you do all that to her face?"
She stalked a tight circle like a tiger in a cage. "She does not love you as I do." She knelt in front of him, hands touching his legs, face staring up into his. "Please, I love you. I've always loved you. Kill her or let her marry this man. She doesn't deserve your adoration."
He ignored her. "Are you all right, ma petite?"
"I'm fine."
Gretchen dug fingers into his jeans, grabbing at him. "Please, please!"
I didn't like her, but the pain, the hopeless pain in her voice was horrible to hear. She'd tried to kill me and I still felt sorry for her.
"Leave us, Gretchen."
"No!" She clutched at him.
"I forbade you to harm her. You disobeyed me. I should kill you."
She just stayed kneeling, gazing up at him. I couldn't see her expression and was glad of it. I wasn't big on adoration. "Jean-Claude, please, please, I only did it for you. She doesn't love you."
His hand was suddenly around her neck. I hadn't seen him move. It was magic. Whatever was letting me look him in the eyes, it didn't stop him playing with my mind. Or maybe he was just that fast. Naw.
She tried to talk. His fingers closed, and the words came out as small, choked sounds. He stood, drawing her to her feet. Her hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to keep him from hanging her. He kept lifting until her feet dangled in the air. I knew she could fight him. I'd felt the strength in those delicate-seeming hands. Except for her hand on his wrist she didn't even struggle. Would she let him kill her? Would he do it? Could I stand here and just watch?
He stood there in his wonderful black shirt, looking elegant and scrumptious, and holding Gretchen with one arm, straight up. He walked towards his desk still holding her. He kept his balance effortlessly. Even a lycanthrope couldn't have done it, not like that. I watched his slender body walk across the carpet and knew he could pretend all he wanted to, but it wasn't human. He wasn't human.