"Would you care to accompany me to the Tenderloin?"
He blinked, surprise covering his face just like a real person. "To what purpose?"
"I need to question a prostitute about a case I'm working on. I need backup."
"Backup?" he asked.
"I need backup that looks more threatening than I do. You fit the bill."
He smiled beatifically. "I would be your bodyguard."
"You've given me enough grief, do something nice for a change."
The smile vanished. "Why this sudden change of heart, ma petite?"
"My backup had to go home and baby-sit his kid."
"And if I do not go?"
"I'll go alone," I said.
"Into the Tenderloin?"
"Yep."
He was suddenly standing by the desk, walking towards me. I hadn't seen him rise.
"I wish you'd stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Clouding my mind so I can't see you move."
"I do it as often as I can, ma petite, just to prove I still can."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I gave up much of my power over you when I gave you the marks. I practice what little games are left me." He was standing almost in front of me. "Lest you forget who and what I am."
I stared up into his blue, blue eyes. "I never forget that you are the walking dead, Jean-Claude."
An expression I could not read passed over his face. It might have been pain. "No, I see the knowledge in your eyes of what I am." His voice dropped low, almost a whisper, but it wasn't seductive. It was human. "Your eyes are the clearest mirror I have ever seen, ma petite. Whenever I begin to pretend to myself. Whenever I have delusions of life. I have only to look into your face and see the truth."
What did he expect me to say? Sorry, I'll try to ignore the fact that you're a vampire. "So why keep me around?" I asked.
"Perhaps if Nikolaos had had such a mirror, she would not have been such a monster."
I stared at him. He might be right. It made his choice of me as human servant almost noble. Almost. Oh, hell. I would not start feeling sorry for the freaking Master of the City. Not now. Not ever.
We would go down to the Tenderloin. Pimps beware. I was bringing the Master as backup. It was like carrying a thermonuclear device to kill ants. Overkill has always been a specialty of mine.
Chapter 23
The Tenderloin was originally the red light district on the Riverfront in the 1800s. But the Tenderloin, like so much of St. Louis, moved uptown. Go down Washington past the Fox Theater, where you can see Broadway traveling companies sing bright musical. Keep driving down Washington to the west edge of downtown St. Louis and you will come to the resurrected carcass of the Tenderloin.
The night streets are neon-coated, sparkling, flashing, pulsing-colors. It looks like some sort of p**n ographic carnival. All it needs is a Ferris wheel in one of the empty lots. They could sell cotton candy shaped like na**d people. The kiddies could play while Daddy went to get his jollies. Mom would never have to know.
Jean-Claude sat beside me in the car. He had been utterly silent on the drive over. I had had to glance at him a time or two just to make sure he was still there. People make noise. I don't mean talking or belching or anything overt. But people, as a rule, can't just sit without making noise. They fidget, the sound of cloth rubbing against the seats; they breathe, the soft intake of air; they wet their lips, wet, quiet, but noise. Jean-Claude didn't do any of these things as we drove. I couldn't even swear he blinked. The living dead, yippee.
I can take silence as good as the next guy, better than most women and a lot of men. Now, I needed to fill the silence. Talk just for the noise. A waste of energy, but I needed it.
"Are you in there, Jean-Claude?"
His neck turned, bringing his head with it. His eyes glittered, reflecting the neon signs like dark glass. Shit.
"You can play human, Jean-Claude, better than almost any vampire I've ever met. What's all this supernatural crap?"
"Crap?" he said, voice soft.
"Yeah, why are you going all spooky on me?"
"Spooky?" he asked, and the sound filled the car. As if the word meant something else entirely.
"Stop that," I said.
"Stop what?"
"Answering every question with a question."
He blinked once. "So sorry, ma petite, but I can feel the street."
"Feel the street? What does that mean?"
He settled back against the upholstery, leaning his head and neck into the seat. His hand clasped over his stomach. "There is a great deal of life here."
"Life?" He had me doing it now.
"Yes," he said, "I can feel them running back and forth. Little creatures, desperately seeking love, pain, acceptance, greed. A lot of greed here, too, but mostly pain and love."
"You don't come to a prostitute for love. You come for sex."
He rolled his head so his dark eyes stared at me. "Many people confuse the two."
I stared at the road. The hairs at the back of my neck were standing at attention. "You haven't fed yet tonight, have you?"
"You are the vampire expert. Can you not tell?" His voice had dropped to almost a whisper. Hoarse and thick.
"You know I can never tell with you."
"A compliment to my powers, I'm sure."
"I did not bring you down here to hunt," I said. My voice sounded firm, a tad loud. My heart was loud inside my head.
"Would you forbid me to hunt tonight?" he asked.
I thought about that one for a minute or two. We were going to have to turn around and make another pass to find a parking space. Would I forbid him to hunt tonight? Yes. He knew the answer. This was a trick question. Trouble was I couldn't see the trick.
"I would ask that you not hunt here tonight," I said.
"Give me a reason, Anita."
He had called me Anita without me prompting him. He was definitely after something. "Because I brought you down here. You wouldn't have hunted here, if it hadn't been for me."
"You feel guilt for whomever I might feed on tonight?"
"It is illegal to take unwilling human victims," I said.
"So it is."
"The penalty for doing so is death," I said.
"By your hand."
"If you do it in this state, yes."
"They are just whores, pimps, cheating men. What do they matter to you, Anita?"
I don't think he had ever called me Anita twice in a row. It was a bad sign. A car pulled away not a block from The Grey Cat Club. What luck. I slid my Nova into the slot. Parallel parking is not my best thing, but luckily the car that pulled away was twice the size of my car. There was plenty of room to maneuver, back and forth from the curb.
When the car was lurched nearly onto the curb but safely out of traffic, I cut the engine. Jean-Claude lay back in his seat, staring at me. "I asked you a question, ma petite, what do these people mean to you?"
I undid my seat belt and turned to look at him. Some trick of light and shadow had put most of his body in darkness. A band of nearly gold light lay across his face. His high cheekbones were very prominent against his pale skin. The tips of his fangs showed between his lips. His eyes gleamed like blue neon. I looked away and stared at the steering wheel while I talked.
"I have no personal stake in these people, Jean-Claude, but they are people. Good, bad, or indifferent, they are alive, and no one has the right to just arbitrarily snuff them out."
"So it is the sanctity of life you cling to?"
I nodded. "That and the fact that every human being is special. Every death is a loss of something precious and irreplaceable." I looked at him as I finished the last.
"You have killed before, Anita. You have destroyed that which is irreplaceable."
"I'm irreplaceable, too," I said. "No one has the right to kill me, either."
He sat up in one liquid motion, and reality seemed to collect around him. I could almost feel the movement of time in the car, like a sonic boom for the inside of my head, instead of my ear.
Jean-Claude sat there looking entirely human. His pale skin had a certain flush to it. His curling black hair, carefully combed and styled, was rich and touchable. His eyes were just midnight-blue, nothing exceptional but the color. He was human again, in the blink of an eye.