The dull ache in my stomach was beginning to have twinges of something sharp. It was like a promise of what the pain would be in a little while. I looked down my body; I couldn't help it. Cherry blocked my view with her arm, turned my face to her. "Don't look. You'll sleep. The doctor will look at you. You'll wake up better." She smiled at me; it was a gentle smile, but it left her eyes haunted. When had Cherry gotten that look in her eyes?
Someone found a cell phone. I dialed Zerbrowski directly. The Regional Preternatural Investigation Team, RPIT, was who I should have called, and I should have probably started by talking to Lieutenant Rudolph Storr, but I just wasn't feeling well enough to argue with Dolph about who, and what, was or wasn't a monster. Zerbrowski answered with his usual, "Zerbrowski."
"It's Anita," I said.
"Blake, what's shaking?" There was a thread of laughter to his voice, the beginnings of his usual teasing. I didn't have time today.
"I'm about to get sewed back up."
"What happened?" The teasing note was gone.
I gave him the shortest version I could, and left out lots. But I gave him the important parts; two vamps, maybe with more servants, masquerading as two upstanding vampire citizens to get us to kill the two upstanding citizens. "They must have thought I was close, because they sent one of their animals to kill me."
"How hurt are you?"
"I'm not hunting any vampires today."
"What do you need from me?"
"I need you to get cops around the hotel. I need you to make sure these two don't get outside."
"Shouldn't they be dead to the world, no pun intended?"
"They should, but after what I saw in the servant, I wouldn't bet anyone's life on it. Call in Mobile Reserve; if it goes wrong you'll want the firepower."
Dr. Chris came to stand over me. He was a little under six feet but seemed taller because he was so thin, one of those men who just couldn't seem to put on muscle mass. I'd have called him willowy if he'd been a girl. He said, "Get off the phone, Anita. I need to look at your wounds."
"I'm almost done," I said.
"What?" Zerbrowski said.
"The doc's here. He's wanting me off the phone."
"Tell me who's going to be processing your warrants and do what the doctor says. You've got to be healed by the time we do the barbecue at my house. I finally got the wife talked into letting you bring both your live-in boyfriends. Don't make me waste all that persuasion."
I almost laughed but thought it might hurt, so I swallowed it. That sort of hurt, too. "I'll do my best."
"Off the phone, Anita," Dr. Chris said again.
"Ted Forrester will have the warrants," I said.
"We didn't know he was in town."
"Just got here."
"Funny how it all goes pear-shaped when he blows into town."
"I only call him in when it's already gone to hell, Zerbrowski; you're reversing cause and effect."
"Says you."
"He's a federal marshal, just like me."
A hand scooped the phone out of my hand. Dr. Chris was a lycanthrope, but still… I should have at least seen it coming. "This is Anita's doctor; she needs to go now. I'm going to put the other marshal on. You two play nice. I'm going to make Ms. Blake go night-night." He hesitated, then said, "She'll be fine. Yes, guaranteed. Now let me tend my patient." He handed the phone to Edward.
Edward put on his Ted Forrester good-ol'-boy voice. "Sergeant Zerbrowski, Ted Forrester here."
Dr. Chris shooed Edward farther away so I couldn't hear what he was saying. He turned the knob on the IV and said, "You're going to sleep now, Ms. Blake. Trust me, you'll enjoy the examination more that way."
"But…"
"Let it go, Ms. Blake. You're hurt. You have to let someone else hunt the vampires today."
I started to say something, probably to argue, but I never finished the thought. One minute I was staring up at Dr. Chris, the next—nothing. The world went poof.
Chapter Thirty-four
I WOKE UP, which was nice. I was blinking up at a ceiling I'd seen before, but couldn't quite place. I was not in the room that I remembered last. This room was painted an off-white, and there were pipes in the ceiling. Pipes… that should have meant something, but I was still a little fuzzy around the edges.
" 'She wakes; and I entreated her come forth, and bear this work of heaven with patience.'"
I knew who it was before he stepped beside the bed. "Requiem." I smiled up at him, and reached out to him with my right hand; the other one was full of needles. Reaching for him made my stomach ache a little, but not that bad. It made me wonder how long I'd been out, or what drugs were coming through the IV tube. Requiem took my hand in his and bent over it to lay a kiss on the back. I was happy to see him. Hell, I was happy to see anyone. "I don't know the quote," I said.
"The words of a worthless friar," he said.
"Sorry, still a little fuzzy," I said.
He held my hand underneath his cloak, against his chest. His blue, blue eyes glittered in the overhead fluorescents. "Perhaps this will help: 'A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun for sorrow will not show his head. Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished; For never was a story…' "
I finished with him. "'… of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.'"
He laughed then, and it transformed his face from a thing of cold beauty to something livable, lovable, more touchable. "You should laugh more often, it becomes you," I said.
The laughter leeched away, as if the two reddish tears that slid down the white perfection of his cheeks stole his joy away as they fell down his face. By the time the tears melted into the dark line of his beard, his face had its usual melancholy handsomeness.
I'd been happy to take his hand. Happy to touch someone I cared for, but there was something in the weight of that ocean-blue-and-green gaze that made me take my hand back. I had other lovers who would look at me that way, but the look in his eyes was one that Requiem had not earned, or that our relationship didn't deserve. He was Requiem, he wasn't a light comedic sort of person; no, he was definitely a lover of tragedies.
"Where's Jean-Claude?"
"Did you expect him to wait by your bedside?"
"Maybe."
"He and Asher are busy elsewhere, together. I was left to tend you while they had more important things to do."
I stared at him. Was it on purpose? Was he trying to make me doubt them? I'd nearly died, and was still hooked up to tubes; fuck it, I'd ask. "Are you implying that they're having sex together somewhere, and that that is more important to them than me?"
He looked down; I think he was trying to be coy. "They are off together, and they left me to tend you. I think the situation speaks for itself."
"You really shouldn't try to play coy, Requiem. You're not good at it."
He gave me the full weight of those blue, blue eyes, with that swimming shadow of green around the iris. Eyes you could sink into and swim away in, or be drowned in. I actually looked down, rather than meet his gaze. Normally he wasn't a problem, but I was hurt, weak, and I didn't like his mood.
"My evening star, you are thinking too hard. Let us rejoice that you live, that we all live."
That gave me other questions to ask; maybe since they weren't about Jean-Claude, he'd answer them. "Then Peter is all right?"
His face went blank, even that pressing need in his eyes fading away. "He is in a room nearby."
"Is he all right?"