lhamilton.thekillingdance-第44部分

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　Jason　walked　down　the　steps　ahead　of　me；　exaggerating　his　walk　just　a　touch　to　show　off　his　derriere。
　〃You　can　cut　the　peep　show；〃　I　said。
　〃You　don't　like　the　view？〃　He　leaned　against　the　wall；　hands　pressed　behind　him；　showing　off　his　chest。
　I　laughed　and　walked　past　him；　clicking　my　nails　down　his　shirt。　It　was　solid　and　hard　as　a　beetle's　carapace。　〃Is　that　as　unfortable　as　it　looks？〃
　He　fell　into　step　beside　me。　〃It's　not　unfortable。　The　ladies　at　Danse　Macabre　liked　it　a　lot。〃
　I　glanced　at　him。　〃I　bet　they　did。〃
　〃I　like　flirting。〃
　〃No　joke。〃
　He　laughed。　〃For　someone　who　doesn't　flirt；　you　have　a　lot　of　guys　after　you。
　〃Maybe　because　I　don't　flirt；〃　I　said。
　Jason　was　quiet　as　we　walked　to　the　bend　in　the　stairs。　〃You　mean　because　you're　a　challenge；　they　keep　ing　around？〃
　〃Something　like　that。〃
　I　couldn't　see　around　the　bend　of　the　stairs。　I　hated　not　being　able　to　see　around　corners。　But　this　time　I　was　invited；　I　hadn't　e　to　kill　anybody。　The　vamps　tended　to　be　a　lot　friendlier　when　you　weren't　trying　to　kill　them。
　〃Is　Richard　here　yet？〃
　〃Not　yet。〃　He　glanced　back　at　me。　〃Do　you　think　it's　a　good　idea　to　have　them　both　here　at　the　same　time？〃
　〃No；〃　I　said；　〃absolutely　not。〃
　〃Well；　at　least　we　all　agree　it's　a　bad　idea；〃　he　said。
　The　door　at　the　bottom　of　the　stairs　was　iron　bound；　made　of　a　heavy；　dark　wood。　It　looked　like　a　portal　to　another　time…a　time　when　dungeons　were　in　vogue；　and　knights　rescued　ladies　fair　or　slaughtered　a　few　peasants　and　no　one　minded；　except　maybe　the　peasants。
　Jason　drew　a　key　out　of　his　pants　pocket。　He　unlocked　the　door　and　pushed。　It　opened　on　well…oiled　hinges。
　〃Since　when　did　you　get　a　key？〃　I　asked。
　〃I　live　here　now。〃
　〃What　about　college？〃
　He　shrugged。　〃It　doesn't　seem　very　important　anymore。〃
　〃You　plan　on　being　Jean…Claude's　lap…wolf　forever？〃
　〃I'm　having　a　good　time；〃　he　said。
　I　shook　my　head。　〃I　fight　like　hell　to　stay　free　of　him；　and　you　just　give　in。　I　don't　understand　that　at　all。〃
　〃You　have　a　college　degree；　right？〃　he　asked。
　〃Yeah。〃
　〃I　don't。　But　here　we　both　are；　ending　up　in　the　same　place。〃
　He　had　me　there。
　Jason　motioned　me　through　the　door　with　a　low　flourish　that　had　imitation　Jean…Claude　written　all　over　it。　Jean…Claude　made　it　seem　courtly　and　real。　Jason　meant　it　for　a　joke。
　The　door　led　into　Jean…Claude's　living　room。　The　ceiling　stretched　up　into　darkness；　but　silken　drapes　hung　in　black　and　white　folds　that　formed　cloth　walls　on　three　sides。　The　fourth　side　was　bare　stone；　painted　white。　A　white　stone　fireplace　looked　original；　which　I　knew　it　wasn't。　The　mantlepiece　was　black…veined　white　marble。　A　silver　fireplace　screen　hid　the　hearth。　There　were　four　chairs　in　black　and　silver　grouped　around　a　wood　and　glass　coffee　table。　A　black　vase　sat　on　the　table　filled　with　white　tulips。　My　high　heels　sank　into　the　thick；　black　carpet。
　There　was　one　other　addition　to　the　room　that　stopped　me　in　my　tracks。　A　painting　hung　above　the　fireplace。　Three　people　dressed　in　the　style　of　the　1600s。　The　woman　wore　white　and　silver　with　a　square　bodice　showing　quite　a　bit　of　décolletage；　her　brown　hair　styled　in　careful　ringlets。　She　held　a　red　rose　loosely　in　one　hand。　A　man　stood　behind　her；　tall　and　slender；　with　dark　gold　hair　in　ringlets　over　his　shoulders。　He　had　a　mustache　and　a　Vandyke　beard；　so　dark　gold　they　were　almost　brown。　He　wore　one　of　those　floppy　hats　with　feathers　and　was　dressed　in　white　and　gold。　But　it　was　the　other　man　who　made　me　walk　towards　the　painting。
　He　was　seated　just　behind　the　woman。　He　was　dressed　in　black　with　silver　embroidery　and　a　wide　lace　collar　and　lace　cuffs。　He　held　a　floppy　black　hat　with　a　single　white　feather　and　a　silver　buckle　across　his　lap。　Black　hair　fell　in　ringlets　over　his　shoulders。　He　was　clean　shaven；　and　the　artist　had　managed　to　capture　the　sinking　blue　of　his　eyes。　I　stared　at　Jean…Claude's　face　painted　hundreds　of　years　before　I　was　born。　The　other　two　were　smiling。　Only　he　was　solemn　and　perfect；　dark　to　their　lightness。　He　was　like　the　shadow　of　death　e　to　the　ball。
　I　knew　Jean…Claude　was　centuries　old；　but　I'd　never　had　such　obvious　proof；　never　had　it　shoved　in　my　face。　The　portrait　bothered　me　for　another　reason。　It　made　me　wonder　if　Jean…Claude　had　lied　about　his　age。
　A　sound　made　me　turn。　Jason　had　slumped　into　one　of　the　chairs。　Jean…Claude　stood　behind　me。　He'd　taken　off　his　jacket　and　his　curling　black　hair　spilled　across　the　shoulders　of　his　crimson　shirt。　The　shirt　cuffs　were　long　and　tight　at　the　wrist；　held　by　three　antique　jet　beads　just　like　the　high　neck　of　the　shirt。　Without　the　jacket　to　distract　the　eye；　the　pale　oval　of　skin　framed　by　the　red　cloth　gleamed。　The　cloth　covered　his　nipples　but　left　his　belly　button　bare　and　drew　the　eye　to　the　top　of　his　black　pants。　Or　maybe　it　just　drew　me。　It　was　a　bad　idea　to　be　here。　He　was　just　as　dangerous　as　the　assassin；　maybe　more。　Dangerous　in　ways　I　had　no　words　for。
　He　glided　towards　me　in　his　black　boots。　I　watched　him　walk　closer　like　a　deer　caught　in　headlights。　I　expected　him　to　flirt　or　ask　how　I　liked　the　painting。　Instead；　he　said；　〃Tell　me　of　Robert。　The　police　said　he　was　dead；　but　they　know　nothing。　You　have　seen　the　body。　Is　he　truly　dead？〃
　His　voice　was　thick　with　concern；　worry。　It　caught　me　pletely　off　guard。　〃They　took　his　heart。〃
　〃If　it　is　only　a　stake　through　the　heart；　he　might　survive　if　it　was　removed。〃
　I　shook　my　head。　〃The　heart　was　taken　out　pletely。　We　couldn't　find　it　in　the　house　or　the　yard。〃
　Jean…Claude　stopped。　He　slumped　suddenly　into　one　of　the　chairs；　staring　at　nothing；　or　nothing　I　could　see。　〃Then　he　is　truly　gone。〃　His　voice　held　sorrow　the　way　it　sometimes　held　laughter；　so　that　I　felt　his　words　like　a　cold；　grey　rain。
　〃You　treated　Robert　like　dirt。　Why　all　this　weeping　and　wailing？〃
　He　looked　at　me。　〃I　am　not　weeping。〃
　〃But　you　treated　him　badly。〃
　〃I　was　his　master。　If　I　had　treated　him　kindly；　he　would　have　seen　it　as　a　sign　of　weakness。　He　would　have　challenged　me　and　I　would　have　killed　him。　Do　not　criticize　things　that　you　do　not　understand。〃　There　was　anger　in　that　last　sentence；　enough　to　brush　heat　along　my　skin。
　Normally；　it　would　have　pissed　me　off；　but　tonight　。　。　。　〃I　apologize。　You're　right。　I　don't　understand。　I　didn't　think　you　gave　a　damn　about　Robert　unless　he　could　further　your　power。〃
　〃Then　you　do　not　understand　me　at　all；　ma　petite。　He　was　my　panion　for　over　a　century。　After　a　century；　I　would　mourn　even　an　enemy's　passing。　Robert　was　not　my　friend；　but　he　was　mine。　Mine　to　punish；　mine　to　reward；　mine　to　protect。　I　have　failed　him。〃
　He　stared　up　at　me；　eyes　gone　blue　and　alien。　〃I　am　grateful　to　you　for　seeing　to　Monica。　The　last　thing　I　can　do　for　Robert　is　to　tend　his　wife　and　child。　They　will　want　for　nothing。〃
　He　stood　suddenly　in　one　smooth　motion。　〃e；　ma　petite。　I　will　show　you　to　our　room。〃　I　didn't　like　the　our；　but　I　didn't　argue。　This　new；　improved；　emotional　Jean…Claude　had　me　confused。
　〃Who　are　the　other　two　in　the　painting？〃
　He　glanced　at　it。　〃Julianna　and　Asher。　She　was　his　human　servant。　The　three　of　us　traveled　together　for　nearly　twenty　years。〃
　Good。　He　couldn't　give　me　some　bullshit　about　the　clothing　being　costumes　now。　〃You're　too　young　to　have　been　a　Musketeer。〃
　He　stared　at　me；　face　carefully　blank；　giving　nothing　away。　〃Whatever　do　you　mean；　ma　petite？〃
　〃Don't　even　try。　The　clothing　is　from　the　1600s；　around　the　time　of　Dumas's　The　Three　Musketeers。　When　we　first　met；　you　told　me　you　were　two　hundred　and　ten。　Eventually；　I　figured　out　you　were　lying；　that　you　were　closer　to　three　hundred。〃
　〃If　Nikolaos　had　known　my　true　age；　she　might　have　killed　me；　ma　petite。〃
　〃Yeah；　the　old　Master　of　the　City　was　a　real　bitch。　But　she's　dead。　Why　still　lie？〃
　〃You　mean　why　am　I　lying　to　you？〃　he　said。
　I　nodded。　〃Yeah；　that's　what　I　mean。〃
　He　smiled。　〃You　are　a　necromancer；　ma　petite。　I　would　have　thought　you　could　judge　my　age　without　my　help。〃
　I　tried　to　read　his　face　and　couldn't。　〃You've　always　been　hard　to　read；　you　know　that。〃
　〃So　glad　I　can　be　a　challenge　in　some　area。〃
　I　let　that　go。　He　knew　exactly　how　much　of　a　challenge　he　was；　but　for　the　first　time　in　a　long　time；　I　was　bothered。　Telling　a　vamp's　age　was　one　of　my　talents；　not　an　exact　science　to　be　sure；　but　one　I　was　good　at。　I'd　never　been　off　by　this　much。　〃A　century　older；　my；　my。〃
　〃Are　you　so　sure　that　it　is　only　a　century？〃
　I　stared　at　him。　I　let　his　power　beat　across　my　skin；　rolled　the　feel　of　it　around　in　my　head。　〃Pretty　sure。〃
　He　smiled。　〃Do　not　frown　so；　ma　petite。　Being　able　to　hide　my　age　is　one　of　my　talents。　I　pretended　to　be　a　hundred　years　older　when　Asher　was　my　panion。　It　allowed　us　freedom　to　wander　through　the　lands　of　other　masters。〃
　〃What　made　you　stop　trying　to　pass　for　older？〃
　〃Asher　needed　help；　and　I　was　not　master　enough　to　help　him。〃　He　looked　up　at　the　portrait。　〃I　。　。　。　humbled　myself　to　gain　him　aid。〃
　〃Why？〃
　〃The　Church　had　a　theory　that　vampires　could　be　cured　by　holy　items。　They　bound　Asher　with　holy　items　and　silver　chains。　They　used　holy　water　on　him；　drop　by　drop；　trying　to　save　his　soul。〃
　I　stared　up