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20
The hospital room was soft mauve with paintings of flowers on the wall. The bed had a mauve bedspread and pink sheets. Monica lay in the bed hooked up to an IV and two different kinds of monitors. A strap across her belly monitored the contractions. Gratefully, the lines had gone flat. The other monitor was the baby's heartbeat. The sound had scared me at first; too fast, like the heart of a small bird. When the nurses assured me the heartbeat was normal, I relaxed. After nearly two hours, the frantic beat had become a comforting sound like white noise.
Monica's auburn hair was plastered in wet tendrils to her forehead. Her careful makeup was smeared across her face. They had been forced to give her a sedative, though it wasn't great for the baby. She had fallen into a light, almost feverish sleep. Her head turned, eyes flicking behind her lids, mouth working, caught in some dream, a very bad dream probably, after the night she'd had. It was almost two o'clock, and I still had to go to the station and make my statement to Detective Greeley. Catherine was on her way to take my place at Monica's bedside. I'd be glad to see her.
I had little crescent nail marks on my right hand. Monica had clung to it like it was all that was holding her together. At the worst of the contractions, when it looked like Monica would lose her baby as well as her husband, her long, painted nails had bitten into me, and only when blood trickled down my hand in fine crimson lines did a nurse say something. When Monica calmed down, they had insisted on messing with the wounds. They'd used the cartoon bandages they kept for the babies, so that my hand was covered in Mickey Mouse and Goofy.
There was a television on a shelf on the wall, but I hadn't turned it on. The only sounds were the whirr of air circulating through the vents and the baby's heartbeat.
A uniformed cop stood outside the door. If Robert had been killed by a hate group, then Monica and the baby were possible targets. If he'd been killed for personal reasons, Monica might know something. Either way, she was in danger. So they'd put a guard on her. Fine with me, since all I had left was a knife. I was really missing my guns.
The phone on the bedside table rang, and I flung myself out of the chair, scrambling for it, terrified that it would wake Monica. I cupped the receiver against my mouth and spoke quietly while my pulse pounded. "Yes?"
"Anita?" It was Edward.
"How did you know where I was?"
"All that matters is that if I can find you, so can someone else."
"Is the contract still on?"
"Yes."
"Damn. What about the time deadline?"
"Expanded to forty-eight hours."
"Well, shit. Aren't theydetermined."
"I think you should go underground for a while, Anita."
"You mean hide?"
"Yeah."
"I thought you wanted me to be bait."
"If you stay out as bait, we need more bodyguards. The werewolves and vamps are monsters, but they're still amateurs. We're professionals, it's what gives us our edge. I'm good, but I can't be everywhere."
"Like following me into the women's john," I said.
I heard him sigh. "I let you down."
"I was careless, too, Edward."
"So you agree?"
"To hiding? Yeah. You got some place in mind?"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
"I don't like the tone in your voice, Edward."
"It's the most secure place in town and has built-in bodyguards."
"Where?" That one word sounded suspicious even to me.
"Circus of the Damned," he said.
"You have got to be out of your freaking mind."
"It's the Master's daytime retreat, Anita. It's a fortress. Jean-Claude's sealed up the tunnel we came through to get Nikolaos. It's secure."
"You want me to spend the day bedded down with vampires. I don't think so."
"You going back to Richard's house?" Edward asked. "How safe are you going to be there? How safe will you be anywhere above ground?"
"Dammit, Edward."
"I'm right, and you know it."
I wanted to argue, but he was right. The Circus was the most secure place I knew. Hell, the place had dungeons. But the idea of voluntarily sleeping there made my skin crawl. "How can I rest surrounded by vampires, even friendly ones?"
"Jean-Claude's offered you his bed. Before you get mad, he'll sleep in his coffin."
"That's what he says now," I said.
"I'm not worried about your virtue, Anita. I'm worried about keeping you alive. And I'm admitting that I can't keep you safe. I'm good. I'm the best money can buy, but I'm only one person. One person, no matter how good, isn't enough."
That was scary. Edward admitting that he was in over his head. I never thought I'd live to see it. Come to think of it, I almost hadn't.
"Okay, I'll do it, but for how long?"
"You hide out, and I'll check some things. If I don't have to guard you, I can do more."
"How long?"
"A day, maybe two."
"What if whoever it is finds out I'm at the Circus?"
"They might try for you," Edward said. His voice was very matter-of-fact when he said it.
"And if they do?"
"If you, a half dozen vampires, and almost that many werewolves can't handle the action, then I don't think it matters."
"You're just comforting as hell."
"I know you, Anita. If I was any more comforting, you might refuse to hide."
"Twenty-four hours, Edward, then I want another plan. I am not going to hide at the bottom of a hole and wait for people to kill me."
"Agreed. I'll pick you up after you make your statement to the cops."
"Where do you get your information?"
He laughed, but it was harsh. "If I know where you'll be, so does someone else. Might ask your cop friends if they have a spare vest."
"You mean a bulletproof vest?"
"Couldn't hurt."
"Are you trying to scare me?"
"Yes."
"You're doing a good job."
"Thanks. Don't come out of the police station until I come in and get you. Avoid being in the open if you can."
"You really think someone else will try to hit me tonight?"
"We're planning for worst-case scenarios from now on, Anita. No more chances. I'll see you then." He hung up before I could say anything else.
I stood there holding the phone, scared. In all the panic with Monica and her baby, I'd almost forgotten that someone was trying to kill me. Probably not a good thing to forget.
I started to hang the phone up, but dialed Richard's number instead. He answered on the second ring, which meant he'd been waiting up. Damn.
"Richard, it's me."
"Anita, where are you?" His voice sounded relieved, then cautious. "I mean, are you coming back here tonight?"
The answer was no, but not for the reasons he feared. I told him what had happened, the shortest possible version.
"Whose idea was it that you stay with Jean-Claude?" There was a hint of anger in his voice.
"I am not staying with Jean-Claude. I am staying at the Circus."
"And the difference is what?"
"Look, Richard, I am too tired to argue with you about this. Edward suggested it, and you know he likes Jean-Claude even less than you do."
"I doubt that," he said.
"Richard, I did not call you to fight. I called to tell you what's happening."
"I appreciate the call." I'd never heard him sound so sarcastic. "Do you want your clothes?"
"Damn, I hadn't even thought about that."
"I'll bring them to the Circus."
"You don't have to do that, Richard."
"You don't want me to?"
"No, I'd love to have my stuff, and not just the clothes if you get my drift?"
"I'll bring it all."
"Thanks."
"I'll pack a bag for myself."
"Do you think that's a good idea?"
"I've stayed at the Circus before. Remember, I used to be one of Jean-Claude's wolves."
"I remember. Should you ask Jean-Claude's permission before you invite yourself over?"
"I'll phone first. Unless you don't want me there tonight." His voice was very quiet.
"If it's okay with Jean-Claude, it's fine with me. I could use the moral support."
He let out a breath like he'd been holding it. "Great. Great, I'll see you there."
"I have to give a statement to the cops about the incident at Danse Macabre. It could take a couple of hours, so don't rush."
"Afraid Jean-Claude will hurt me?" He was quiet for a moment. "Or are you afraid I'll hurt him?"
I thought about that. "Worried about you."
"Glad to hear it," he said, and I could hear him smile.
The reason I was worried about Richard is he wasn't a killer. Jean-Claude was. Richard might start a fight, but Jean-Claude would finish it. I didn't say any of this out loud. Richard wouldn't have appreciated it.
"I'm looking forward to seeing you tonight," he said.
"Even at the Circus?"
"Anywhere. Love you."
"Love you, too."
We hung up. Neither of us had said good-bye, a Freudian slip, perhaps.
I was betting that Richard and Jean-Claude would find something to fight about, and I was really too tired to mess with it. But if I'd told Richard to stay away, he would have assumed I wanted to be alone with Jean-Claude, which was certainly not true. So they'd have their little fight. Frankly, I had my own fight all picked out, one involving me, Jean-Claude, and Damian. They'd broken the law at Danse Macabre, broken it enough that with the right judge, I might have gotten a warrant of execution on Damian. We could have one great big glorious knock-down, drag-out fight.
I wondered where everybody would sleep, and with who.
