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I shook my head and put the gun up. I took the woman's hand. "Release her, Damian," I said.
He glanced back at her and did it. Her eyes flew open wide, searching frantically like someone awakened from a nightmare to find it real. I patted her hand.
"It's all right. You're safe now."
"What's happening? What's happening?" She caught sight of Damian and started sobbing hysterically.
Jean-Claude appeared on the edge of the light. "You have nothing to fear from us, fair lady." He glided towards us.
She started screaming.
"He won't hurt you," I said. "I promise. What's your name?"
She kept screaming. She was taller than me, but I touched her face, putting a hand on either side, forcing her to look at me. "What's your name?"
"Karen," she whispered, "my name's Karen."
"We're going to walk off this dance floor, Karen, and no one will hurt you. You have my word."
She nodded over and over, breath coming so fast I was afraid she was going to pass out.
Cassandra walked into the light, but stayed back. "Can I help?"
Jean-Claude had not moved since Karen started screaming. He just looked at me, and I still couldn't read his expression.
"Yeah," I said, "I could use some help."
Karen shied away from her. "She's not a vampire," I said.
She let Cassandra take her other arm, and we led her off the dance floor away from the light. Jean-Claude stepped onto center stage, and his voice followed us into the darkness. "Did you enjoy our little melodrama?" There was a puzzled silence. His voice was like fur wrapping the crowd in the dark, breathing in their fear, giving them back desire. "We do not tease here at Danse Macabre. Who would like to experience the reality of Damian's kiss?" Someone would take him up on it. Someone always did. If anyone could salvage the show after the woman's hysterics, Jean-Claude could.
Liv came to help, I think. Karen took one look at the muscle-bound vamp and fainted dead away. She was not a small woman, and it surprised both Cassandra and myself. She sagged to the floor. Liv started to come closer, but I waved her off.
A woman from the crowd came towards us, hesitantly. "Can I help?" she asked. She was about the same size as Cassandra and me, small, with long reddish hair that swung to her waist, straight and fine. She was dressed in a pair of dark brown dress slacks, the kind that run large and have cuffs and are usually linen. For a shirt she wore only a vest with a silk camisole under it.
I glanced at Cassandra. She shrugged. "Thanks, if you could take her feet." Cassandra could have flung the woman across her shoulders in a fireman's carry, but most lycanthropes didn't like to show off their strength. I could have carried her, too, even if she was so bloody tall. I could still have carried her for a short distance, but not fast, and not too far.
The woman shoved her clutch purse under one arm and took the unconscious woman's feet. We got moving a little awkwardly, but we managed to get a rhythm and Cassandra took us to the women's rest room. Or I should say, lounge. The front part had a couch and a lighted vanity. It was white and black, with a mural on the wall that was from a woodcut that I knew, entitled "Demon-Lover." The demon in this version looked suspiciously like Jean-Claude, and I doubted it was accidental.
We laid Karen on the black couch. The woman who was helping dampened some paper towels without being asked and brought them back. I laid them against Karen's forehead and neck. "Thanks."
"Is she going to be all right?" the woman asked.
I didn't answer, because that all depended on Damian. "What's your name?"
The woman smiled almost shyly. "Anabelle, Anabelle Smith."
I smiled up at her. "Anita Blake. This is Cassandra." I realized I didn't know her last name. Jean-Claude always called his wolves by only their first names, like a pet. "I'm sorry. I don't know your last name."
"Cassandra is fine." She shook Anabelle's hand. They smiled at each other.
"Should we report what happened to the police?" Anabelle asked. "I mean that vampire was going to force himself on her. That's illegal, right?"
Karen stirred on the couch, moaning.
"Yeah, it's illegal," I said.
Anabelle raised an interesting point. I could report it to the cops. If a vampire acquired three complaints against him or her, you could get a death warrant issued, if you got the right judge. I would talk to Jean-Claude and Damian first, but if they didn't give me the answers I wanted, maybe I should go to the cops. I shook my head.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
"Nothing worth sharing," I said.
The bathroom door opened. Raina walked in wearing a cream-colored dress as short as my own. The dark hose and stiletto high heels made her legs go on forever. She wore a fur jacket in a dusty red, probably fox. She was the only shape-shifter I'd met who wore real fur that wasn't her own.
She'd pulled her auburn hair on top of her head in a soft bun with loose strands of hair curled artfully around her face and neck.
Karen chose that minute to regain consciousness. I wasn't sure she was going to like her wake-up call. I knew I didn't.
I stood. Cassandra moved in front of me and a little to one side, not blocking me, but closer to the danger than I was. I wasn't used to anyone guarding me. It felt odd. I could take care of myself. That was the point, wasn't it?
"What's happening?" Anabelle asked.
Karen was looking around, eyes going wide again. "Where am I?"
"Anabelle, can you sit with Karen, please?" I smiled when I asked, but I didn't take my eyes from Raina. The door had closed behind her, and there wasn't enough room to maneuver, not really. If Cassandra could hold her for a even a few seconds, I could get the gun out, but somehow I didn't think Raina had come to fight. I think she'd have worn different shoes.
Anabelle sat on the couch and literally held Karen's hand. But she was watching the rest of us. Hell, it might be a better show than what was outside.
"What do you want, Raina?" I asked.
She gave a wide smile with her lipsticked mouth, baring small, even white teeth. "It's the ladies' room, isn't it? I came to powder my nose. And to see how our frightened guest is doing." She took two steps into the room, and Cassandra moved in front of her, blocking her way.
Raina stared down at her. "You forget yourself, wolf." Her voice held a low edge of growl.
"I forget nothing," Cassandra said.
"Then stand aside," she said.
"What did you mean by our guest?" I asked.
She smiled at me. "I am Jean-Claude's partner in this little enterprise. Didn't he tell you?" From the look on her face, she knew the answer and was enjoying it.
"I guess it slipped his mind," I said. "Why aren't you part of the show then?"
"I'm a silent partner," she said. She pushed past Cassandra, body brushing the smaller woman. She knelt by the couch. "How are you feeling, my dear?"
Karen stammered, "I just want to go home."
"Of course you do." She glanced up and smiled. "If one of you would help me get her to her feet, there's a cab waiting to take her anywhere she wants to go at the club's expense. Or did you want to ride home with your friends?"
Karen shook her head. "They aren't my friends."
"So wise of you to realize that," Raina said. "So many people put their trust in the wrong people." She stared at me while she said the last. "And they get hurt, or worse."
Anabelle had moved away from Raina. She was staring at all of us, clutching her purse. I don't think she understood everything we were saying, but she obviously was not having a good time. One good deed and she was already being punished.
"Can you stand? Why don't you help me?" Raina asked Anabelle.
"No, let Cassandra help you," I said.
"Afraid I might eat your newfound friend?"
I smiled. "You'll eat anything that can't get away. We all know that."
Her face tightened, anger flashing through her amber brown eyes. "In the end, Anita, we will see who eats what." She helped the woman to stand.
Cassandra whispered, "Jean-Claude told me to guard you."
"Make sure she gets into a cab that really is going to take her home. Then you can follow me around for the rest of the evening, okay?"
Cassandra nodded. "Jean-Claude won't like it."
"I'm not too happy with him right now, either," I said.
"A little help here," Raina said.
Cassandra sighed, but she took Karen's other arm, and they helped her through the door. When the door closed behind them, Anabelle let out a long sigh. "What is going on?"
I turned to the lighted mirror, leaning my hands on the vanity top. I shook my head. "It's too long a story, and the less you know, the safer you'll be."
"I have to confess I have an ulterior motive." I watched her through the mirror, and she looked embarrassed. "I didn't just help out of the goodness of my heart. I'm a reporter, freelance. A quote from the Executioner would really put me on the map. I mean I could name my price, especially if you explained what just happened here."
I bowed my head. "A reporter. Not exactly what I needed tonight."
Anabelle came up behind me. "It was real on the dance floor, wasn't it? That vampire--Damian, right? He was really going to do her, right there, as part of the show."
I watched her face in the mirror. She was vibrating with eagerness. She wanted to touch me. You could see her hands fluttering, nervous. It was a big story if I corroborated it. It would serve Jean-Claude right if I did.
Something went through Anabelle's eyes. Some of the brightness leaked away.
Several things happened almost simultaneously. Anabelle jerked my purse, the strap broke, she took a step back, and drew a gun from an inner-pants holster under her vest. The door opened, and three laughing women entered. The women screamed.
Anabelle looked at the door for just a heartbeat. I drew a knife and turned. I didn't try and walk those two steps to her. I dropped to one knee and lunged my body like a line with the knife as the point. The knife entered her upper stomach. The gun moved towards me. I used my left hand to sweep the arm away. The shot went wild, cracking the mirror. I shoved the knife upward, under her sternum, shoved it until the hilt met flesh and bone, and jerked the blade up and sideways.
Her hand convulsed on the gun and another shot hit the carpeted floor. The silencer made each shot seem muffled, almost anticlimactic.
She sank to her knees, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing. I ran my hand down her arm and took the gun from her. She blinked at me, eyes unbelieving, then she fell abruptly as if her strings had been cut. She twitched twice and died.
Edward was at the door, gun out, pointed. He stared from me to the fresh corpse. He took in the knife still protruding from her chest, the gun with silencer in my hand. He relaxed, pointing the gun at the floor. "Some bodyguard I turned out to be, letting you get dusted in the ladies' room."
I stared up at him. I felt numb, distant with shock. "She almost got me," I said.
"But she didn't," he said.
I heard men's voices shouting, "Police! Everybody stay where they are. We'll check it out."
"Shit," I said softly and with feeling. I laid Anabelle's gun by her body and sat back on the carpet. I wasn't sure I could stand right then.
Edward holstered his gun and moved back from the door to join the crowd that was pushing forward to see the show. Just another part of the anonymous throng. Yeah, right.
I sat there beside the corpse and tried to think of something to tell the cops. I wasn't sure the truth was an option I could afford right now. I began to wonder if I was going to see the inside of a jail tonight. Watching the blood soak the front of Anabelle's vest, it seemed likely.
