Anita Blake 15 - The Harlequin (6 page)

I tried to find an expression that was neutral, but pleased, and walked out carrying the box. Nathaniel was waiting against the far wall, holding both our coats and his hat. The leather hat got hot indoors. He smiled when he saw me and walked toward me with a quizzical look on his face. "Did someone leave that in the bathroom?"

I showed him that it had my name on it. "I thought you were trying to surprise me."

"You hate surprises," he said.

My pulse sped up, not a lot, but a little. I moved us so that the wall was at my back. I was suddenly looking at the people near us, looking hard; but everyone looked innocent, or at least not guilty. Couples holding hands, families with kids in tow: it all looked normal.

"What's in there?" Nathaniel asked.

"A mask," I whispered.

"Can I see it?"

I nodded.

He moved the lid and tissue paper, while I kept searching the happy moviegoers for evil intent. There was a couple staring a little too hard at us, but that could be other things.

"It looks like someone started to make a mask and stopped before they finished," he said.

"Yeah, it looks too blank."

"Why would someone give you this?"

"Did you see someone carry this in?"

"It's a big box, Anita. I'd have noticed."

"Did anyone carry in a bigger-than-average purse?"

"Not one big enough to hide this."

"You were standing right there, Nathaniel. You had to see."

We exchanged a look. "I didn't see this."

"Shit," I said low and with feeling.

"Someone was messing with you earlier, and they messed with me to get inside the bathroom," he said.

"Did you sense anything?" I asked.

He thought about it, and finally shook his head. "No."

"Double shit."

"Call Jean-Claude, now," he said.

I nodded and handed him the box so I could use my cell phone. Nathaniel wrapped the mask back up while I waited for Jean-Claude to pick up. This time he actually answered his office phone himself. "I got a present," I said.

"What did our pussycat buy you?" he asked, not offended that I hadn't said hello first.

"Nathaniel didn't buy it."

"It is not like you to speak in riddles,
ma petite
."

"Ask me what it is," I said.

"What is it?" and his voice was sliding into that blankness he did so well.

"A mask."

"What color is it?"

"You don't sound surprised," I said.

"What color is it,
ma petite
?"

"What does that matter?"

"It matters."

"White, why?"

He let out a breath I hadn't known he was holding, and spoke softly and heatedly in French for several minutes, until I could get him calmed down enough to speak English to me.

"It is good news, and bad,
ma petite
. White means they have come to observe us, not to harm us."

I moved so that my hand covered my mouth as I talked. I wanted to keep an eye on the drifting crowd, but I didn't want some human to overhear what promised to be a tricky conversation. But I didn't want to go outside until I found out how much danger we were in. The crowd was both a danger and a help. Most bad guys are reluctant to start cutting people up in a crowd. "What color would mean harm?" I asked.

"Red."

"Okay, who is
they
, because I assume this means we've been contacted by the mystery whoever."

"It does."

"So who are they, what are they? And why the hell this cloak-and-dagger shit with the mask? Why not a letter or a phone call?"

"I am not certain. They would normally have sent the mask to me, as Master of the City."

"Why send it to me, then?"

"I do not know,
ma petite"
He sounded angry, and he didn't usually get angry this easily.

"You're scared."

"Very."

"I guess we come to the Circus tonight, after all."

"Apologize to Nathaniel for this ruining his date with you, but
oui
, you must come here. We have much to discuss."

"Who are these guys, Jean-Claude?"

"The name will mean nothing to you."

"Just tell me."

"The Harlequin, they are the Harlequin."

"Harlequin, you mean like the French clown?"

"Nothing half so pleasant,
ma petite
. Come home and I will explain."

"How much more danger are we in?" The couple was still staring at us. The woman nudged the man, and he shook his head.

"White means they will observe only. This could be the only contact we have with them, if we are very, very lucky. They will watch us, then leave."

"Why tell us at all, if that's all they plan to do?"

"Because it is our law. They may pass through a territory, or hunt someone across a territory, much as you hunt wicked vampires across state lines, but if they are planning to be within an area for more than a few nights, then they are bound by law to contact the Master of the City."

"So this could be all about Malcolm and his church."

"It could."

"You don't believe that."

"It would be too easy,
ma petite
, and nothing about the Harlequin is ever easy."

"What are they?"

"They are the closest thing to police that we vampires have. But they are also spies, assassins. It was they who slew the Master of London when he went mad."

"Elinore and the other vamps didn't say that."

"Because they could not."

"You mean, if they had told anyone who killed their master, they'd have been killed?"

"Yes."

"That's crazy, they all knew it."

"Among themselves,
oui
, but not to outsiders, and once the Harlequin leave town the secrecy takes effect once more."

"So we can talk about them now, but later, when they leave, it's forbidden to mention them?"

"Oui."

"That's insane."

"It is law."

"Have I told you recently that some of the vampire laws are stupid?"

"You have never put it quite that way."

"Well, I'm putting it that way now."

"Come home,
ma petite
, or better yet, come to Guilty Pleasures. I will tell you more of the history of the Harlequin when I have you safe with me. We should be safe. It is a white mask. We are expected to act as if there is nothing wrong. So I will finish my work night."

"You've fed the
ardeur
. You're done for the night."

"There are still acts to manage and my voice to lend to a microphone."

"Fine. Well be there."

Nathaniel whispered, "They're coming over."

I glanced up to find the couple that had been staring so hard walking toward us. They didn't look dangerous, and they were definitely human. I whispered into the telephone, "Are all the Harlequin vamps?"

"To my knowledge, why?"

"We've got a pair of humans walking toward us."

"Come to me,
ma petite
, and bring Nathaniel."

"Love ya," I said.

"And I you."

We hung up so I could give my attention to the couple. The woman was petite and blond, and embarrassed and eager at the same time. The man was grumpy, or embarrassed.

"You're Brandon," she said to Nathaniel.

He admitted it, and I watched his stage smile come on line. He was happy to see her, and all the worry was just gone. He was on.

I didn't really have an "on" face. I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to do while strange women came up and said things to my boyfriend.

"But
you
were on stage, too," she said, turning to me. I'd been recognized as Anita Blake, vampire hunter, zombie raiser, but never from that one night I'd gone on stage at Guilty Pleasures. Nathaniel had picked me out of the crowd instead of some stranger. I'd agreed to it, but I hadn't wanted to do it again.

I nodded. "Once." I felt Nathaniel tense beside me. I should have just said yes. Nathaniel worried that I was embarrassed by him, and I wasn't. It was fine that he was a stripper, but it wasn't my gig. I was not nearly exhibitionist enough for it.

"I'd finally persuaded Greg to go with me to the club, and he was glad he came, weren't you?" She turned to the grumpy boyfriend.

He finally nodded, and he wouldn't look at me. Definitely embarrassed. That made two of us. None of my clothes had come off on stage, but I still didn't like being reminded of it.

"It was so erotic, what you did on stage together," she said, "so sensual."

Nathaniel said, "So glad you enjoyed the show. I'll be on stage tomorrow night."

Her face glowed with happiness. "I know. I check the website. But it doesn't mention your friend." She nodded at me. "Greg wants to know when you'll be back, don't you, Greg?" She was looking at me when she said it.

What I thought in my head was,
When hell freezes over
, I don't know what I would have said out loud, because Nathaniel saved us. "You know how you had to persuade Greg to come to the club?"

She nodded.

"I had to persuade her to get on stage."

"Really?" she said.

"Really," Nathaniel said.

Greg finally spoke. "Was it your first time on stage?"

"Yes," I said, wondering how to get out of this conversation without being rude. I'd have been rude, but Nathaniel wouldn't be. Bad for business, and rude just wasn't one of the things that he did much.

"It didn't seem like your first time," and he looked at me then. The look was the kind you never want a strange man to give you. Too much heat, too much sex.

I looked at Nathaniel. The look said clearly,
End this conversation, or I will
.

Nathaniel understood the look; he'd seen it enough. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show, and I hope to see you both again tomorrow. Have a wonderful night." He started to move away, and I followed.

Greg moved closer to us. "Will you be there tomorrow night?"

Nathaniel smiled, and said, "Of course."

He shook his head. "Not you, her. What's her name?"

I didn't want to give him my name. Don't ask me why, but I didn't. Nathaniel came to the rescue again. "Nicky."

I gave him a look, but my back was to them, so they couldn't see it. Greg said, "Nicky?"

Nathaniel took my arm and kept us moving, balancing the box in his other hand. "When she's on stage," he said.

"When will Nicky be at the club?"

"Never," I said, and walked faster. Nathaniel kept up with me. When we were clear of his, our, fans, his face showed dread. Dreading the fight that was coming.

I WASN'T SO angry that I forgot to check out the crowd as we moved, but I had to force the anger down to be able to see straight. I was actually more embarrassed than angry, which meant the fight could be all the worse for it. I hated being embarrassed, and usually masked it with anger. Even knowing that's what I did didn't change the fact that I did it. It just let me know why I was angry.

I actually waited until we were in the parking lot to say, "
Nicky
? What the fuck kind of name is that?"

"One I'd remember," he said.

I jerked away from him hard enough that he almost dropped the box. "I'm never going to be on stage again; I don't need a stage name."