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"He went against her direct orders, Anita. For someone as low in the pack structure as Stephen, that took guts. But Sylvie won't be impressed. She'll tear him up, and she won't allow anyone to come down and baby-sit them. I know her that well."
"I can't do this twenty-four hours a day, Irving."
"They'll heal in a day or so."
I frowned at him. "I can't sit here for two days."
He looked away from me and went to stand beside Stephen's bed. He stared down at the sleeping man, hands clasped in front of him.
I walked over to them. I touched Irving's arm. "What aren't you telling me?"
He shook his head. "I don't know what you mean."
I turned him around, made him face me. "Talk to me, Irving."
"You aren't a shapeshifter, Anita. You aren't dating Richard anymore. You need to get out of our world, not further into it."
He looked so serious, solemn, that it scared me. "Irving, what's wrong?"
He just shook his head.
I grabbed him by both arms and resisted the urge to shake him. "What are you hiding?"
"There is a way for you to get the pack to guard Stephen and even Nathaniel."
I took a step back. "I'm listening."
"You outrank Sylvie."
"I'm not a shapeshifter, Irving. I was the new pack leader's girlfriend. I'm not even that anymore."
"You're more than that, Anita, and you know it. You've killed some of us. You kill easily and without remorse. The pack respects that."
"Gee, Irving, what a rousing endorsement."
"Do you feel badly about killing Raina? Did you lose sleep over Gabriel?"
"I killed Raina because she was trying to kill me. I killed Gabriel for the same reason, self-preservation. So no, I didn't lose any sleep."
"The pack respects you, Anita. If you could find some pack members that are already outed as shifters and convince them that you're scarier than Sylvie, they'd guard them, both of them."
"I am not scarier than Sylvie, Irving. I can't beat them to a pulp. She can."
"But you can kill them." He said it very quietly, watching my face, searching my expression.
I opened my mouth, closed it. "What are you trying to get me to do, Irving?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Forget I said it. I shouldn't have said it. Get more cops in here and go home, Anita. Just get out of it while you can."
"What's going on, Irving? Is Sylvie a problem?"
He looked at me. His usually cheerful eyes, solemn, thoughtful. He shook his head. "I've got to go, Anita."
I grabbed his arm. "You go nowhere until you tell me what's happening."
He turned back to me slowly, reluctantly. I let go of his arm and stepped back. "Talk."
"Sylvie has challenged everyone higher in the pack than she is, and won."
I looked at him. "So?"
"Do you understand how unusual it is for a woman to fight her way to second in command. She's about five foot six, small-boned. Ask how she's winning."
"You're being coy, Irving. That's not like you. I'm not going to play Twenty Questions with you. Just tell me."
"She killed the first two people she fought. She didn't have to. She chose to. The next three challenges she made just agreed she was dominant to them. They didn't want to risk being killed."
"Very practical," I said.
He nodded. "Sylvie's always been that. She finally picked one of the inner circle to fight. She's too small to be one of the enforcers; besides I think she was afraid of Jamil, and Shang-Da."
"Jamil? Richard didn't drive him out? But he was one of Marcus's and Raina's flunkies."
Irving shrugged. "Richard thought the transition would go smoother if he kept some of the old guard in power."
I shook my head. "Jamil should have been driven out or killed."
"Maybe, but actually Jamil seems to support Richard. I think it really surprised him when he wasn't killed instantly. Richard has earned his loyalty."
"I didn't know Jamil had any loyalty," I said.
"None of us did. Sylvie fought and won the place of Geri, second in command."
"She kill for it?"
"Surprisingly, no."
"Okay, so Sylvie's tearing up the pack. She's second in command. Great, so what?"
"I think she wants to be Ulfric, Anita. I think she wants Richard's job."
I stared at him. "There's only one way to be Ulfric, Irving."
"To kill the old king," Irving said. "Yeah, I think Sylvie knows that."
"I haven't seen her fight, but I've seen Richard fight. He outweighs her by a hundred pounds, a hundred pounds of muscle, and he's good. She can't beat him in a fair fight, can she?"
"It's like Richard is wounded, Anita. The heart's gone out of him. I think if she challenged and really wanted it, she'd win."
"What are you telling me? That he's depressed?" I asked.
"It's more than that. You know how much he hates being one of the monsters. He'd never killed anyone until Marcus. He can't forgive himself."
"How do you know all this?"
"I listen. Reporters make good listeners."
We stared at each other. "Tell me the rest."
Irving looked down, then up. "He doesn't discuss you with me. The only thing he said was that even you couldn't accept what he was. Even you, the Executioner, were horrified."
It was my turn to look down. "I didn't want to be."
"We can't change how we feel," Irving said.
I met his eyes. "I would if I could."
"I believe you."
"I don't want Richard dead."
"None of us do. I'm afraid of what Sylvie would do without anyone to stop her." He motioned to the other bed. "First order of business would be hunting down all the wereleopards. We'd slaughter them."
I took in a deep breath and let it out. "I can't change how I feel about what I saw, Irving. I saw Richard eat Marcus." I paced the small room, shaking my head. "What canI do to help?"
"Call the pack and demand that they acknowledge you as lupa. Make some of them come here and guard both of them against Sylvie's express orders. But you have to give them your protection. You have to promise them that she won't hurt them, because you'll see to it that she can't."
"If I do that and Sylvie doesn't like it, I'll have to kill her. It's like I'm setting her up to be killed. That's a little premeditated even for me."
He shook his head. "I'm asking you to be our lupa. To be Richard's lupa. To show Sylvie that if she keeps pressing, Richard may not kill her, but you will."
I sighed. "Shit."
"I'm sorry, Anita. I wouldn't have said anything, but . . ."
"I needed to know," I said. I hugged him, and he stiffened in surprise, then hugged me back.
"What was that for?"
"For telling me. I know Richard won't like it."
The smile faded from his face. "Richard has punished two pack members since he took over. They challenged his authority, big time, and he nearly killed them both."
"What?" I asked.
"He sliced them up, Anita. He was like someone else, something else."
"Richard doesn't do things like that."
"He does now, not all the time. Most of the time he's fine, but then he snaps and goes into a rage. I don't want to be anywhere near him when he loses it."
"How bad has he gotten?" I asked.
"He's got to accept what he is, Anita. He's got to embrace his beast, or he's going to drive himself mad."
I shook my head. "I can't help him love his beast, Irving. I can't accept it either."
Irving shrugged. "It's not so bad being furry, Anita. There are worse things . . . like being the walking dead."
I frowned at him. "Get out, Irving, and thanks for telling me."
"I hope you're still thankful in a week."
"Me, too."
Irving gave me some phone numbers and left. Didn't want anyone to stay too long. People might suspect him of being more than just a reporter. No one seemed to worry about my reputation. I raised zombies, slew vampires, and was dating the Master of the City. If people began to suspect me of being a shapeshifter, what the hell difference would it make?
Three names of submissive pack members who Irving thought were tough enough to play bodyguard and weak enough to be bullied. I didn't want to do this. The pack was based on obedience: punishment and reward, mostly punishment. If the pack members I called refused me, I had to punish them, or I wasn't lupa, wasn't strong enough to back Richard. Of course, he probably wouldn't be grateful. He seemed to hate me now. I didn't blame him. He'd hate me interfering.
But it wasn't just Richard. It was Stephen. He'd saved my life once and I still hadn't returned the favor. He was also one of those people that was everyone's victim, until today. Yeah, Zane had nearly killed him, but that wasn't the point. He'd put friendship above pack loyalty. Which meant that Sylvie could withdraw pack protection from him. He'd be like the wereleopards, anybody's meat. I couldn't let that happen to him, not if I could stop it.
Stephen might end up dead. Richard might end up dead. I might have to kill Sylvie. I might have to maim or kill a few pack members to make my point. Might, might, might. Damn.
I'd never killed before except in self-defense or for revenge. If I put my hat in the ring, it would be premeditated, cold-blooded murder. Maybe not in a technical sense, but I knew what I would be starting in motion. It was like dominoes. They all stayed straight and neat until you hit one of them; then there was no stopping them. I would end up with a pretty pattern on the floor: Richard solidly in power, Stephen and the wereleopards safe, Sylvie backed down, or dead. The first three things were going to happen. It was Sylvie's choice how the last bit turned out. Harsh, but true. Of course, there was one other option. Sylvie could kill me. That would sort of open things up for her again. Sylvie wasn't exactly ruthless, but she didn't let anyone get in her way. We shared that trait. No, I am not ruthless. If I was, I'd have just called Sylvie into a meeting and shot her on the spot. I wasn't quite sociopath enough to do it. Mercy will get you killed, but sometimes it's all that makes us human.
I made the calls. I chose a man's name first, Kevin, no last name. His voice was thick with sleep, gruff, like he smoked.
"Who the hell is this?"
"Gracious," I said, "very gracious."
"Who is this?"
"It's Anita Blake. Do you know who I am?" When trying to be threatening, less is more. Me and Clint Eastwood.
He was quiet for nearly thirty seconds, and I let the silence build. His breath had sped up. I could almost feel his pulse quickening over the phone.
He answered like he was used to strange phone calls and pack business. "You're our lupa."
"Very good, Kevin, very good." Condescending is also good.
He coughed to clear his throat. "What do you want?"
"I want you to come down to St. Louis University Hospital. Stephen and Nathaniel have been hurt. I want you to guard them for me."
"Nathaniel, he's one of the wereleopards."
"That's right."
"Sylvie's forbidden us to help the wereleopards."
"Is Sylvie your lupa?" Questions are great, but only if you know the answers. If you ask questions and the answers surprise you, you look silly. Hard to be threatening when you look ill-informed.
He was quiet for a second. "No."
"Who is?"
I heard him swallow. "You are."
"Do I outrank her?"
"You know you do."
"Then get your butt down here, and do what I ask."
"Sylvie will hurt me, lupa. She really will."
"I'll see that she doesn't."
"You're just Richard's human girlfriend. You can't fight Sylvie, not and live."
"You're right, Kevin. I can't fight Sylvie, but I can kill her."
"What do you mean?"
"If she hurts you for helping me, I'll kill her."
"You can't mean that."
I sighed. "Look, Kevin, I've met Sylvie. Trust me when I say that I could point a gun at her head and pull the trigger. I can and will kill Sylvie if she forces me to. No jokes, no bluffs, no games." I listened to my voice as I said it. I sounded tired, almost bored, and so serious it was almost frightening.
"All right, I'll do it, but if you let me down she may kill me."
"You have my protection, Kevin, and I know what that means in the pack."
"It means I have to acknowledge you as dominant to me," he said.
"It also means that if anyone challenges you, I can help you fight your battles. Seems like a fair trade."
Silence filled the phone lines again. His breathing had slowed, deepened. "Promise me you won't get me killed."
"I can't promise that, Kevin, but I can promise that if Sylvie kills you, I'll kill her for you."
Silence, shorter this time. "I believe you would. I'll be at the hospital in forty minutes or less."
"Thanks, I'll be waiting."
I hung up and made the other two calls. They both agreed to come down. I'd drawn a line in the sand with Sylvie on one side and me on the other. She wasn't going to like it, not one little bit. Couldn't blame her. If our places were reversed, I'd have been pissed. But she should have left Richard alone. Irving had said it was like Richard was wounded, like the heart had gone out of him. I'd helped put that wound there. I'd cut his heart into tiny little pieces and danced on them. Not deliberately. My intentions were good, but you know what they say about good intentions.
I couldn't love Richard, but I could kill for him. Killing was the more practical of the two gifts. And lately I'd become very, very practical.
