Anita Blake 15 - The Harlequin (42 page)

"How do you know he didn't?"

"He's got a deal with our government. He doesn't play serial killer on American soil. They look the other way, as long as he abides by that."

I hugged myself tight again. "I didn't ask Olaf to be a good boy, Edward."

"I know you didn't."

"Why does the fact that he's behaved himself on the off chance that he can come play with me scare me?"

"Because you're smart."

"Explain to me why it makes my skin run cold that he's gone to this much effort for me?"

"He is crazy, Anita. Which means that you never know what will trigger him with a woman. He likes you as much as I've ever seen him like a woman. But he has high standards for women."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that when he saw you almost two years ago you weren't sleeping around. Now you are. I'm a little worried that that will change his opinion of you."

"He kills whores," I said, my voice flat.

"I did not call you a whore."

"You said I sleep around."

"You have half a dozen regular lovers, and you just had sex with a new one. Give me another way to say it."

I thought about it, then shook my head and almost smiled. "A full dance card. Oh, hell, Edward. Fine, I'm sleeping with a lot of men." Which brought me to another thought. "God, Peter was in the hallway while Donovan and I were in here…" I felt myself blush and couldn't stop it.

"I figured you for a screamer."

I gave him a very unfriendly look.

"Sorry, but Peter was embarrassed. What else do you want me to say?"

"Say why you brought him. Say why the hell would you involve him in this dangerous mess?"

"Short version, because we've only got a few hours to find these bastards."

"I agree we've got a ticking clock, but you have to explain Peter being here. I can't just let him go hunting vampires with us, Edward. He's sixteen years old, for God's sake."

"It was the phone call when you talked to him. He knew you were in trouble. Short version, he wanted to return the favor. You rescued him, he wanted to help rescue you."

"I don't need rescuing. I need people to help me kill other people. I don't want Peter to get better at killing people. I watched him kill the woman who raped him. I watched him blow her face to red sauce." I shook my head and started pacing the room again. "How could you do this to him, Edward?"

"If I had left him home he just would have followed me. He knew where I was going. This way I can keep an eye on him."

"No, you can't. We can't do this job and babysit at the same time. They almost killed all three of us: Richard, Jean-Claude, and me. We're kind of hard to kill, Edward. These guys are good, dangerous good. Do you really want Peter's first real job to be against something this scary?"

"No," Edward said, "but he was coming. I had the choice of bringing him with me, or letting him find his own way."

"He's sixteen, Edward. You're his father. You say no, and you make it stick."

"I'm not married to his mother yet, Anita. I'm not his official step-anything."

"He sees you as his dad."

"Not when he doesn't want to."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I don't have the authority that a real dad would have over him sometimes. It means that I'll always wonder if he'd been mine from the beginning if he'd be different, or if we'd have ended up here anyway."

"He's out there in the hallway, armed. He's carrying more than one gun, and at least one knife. He's carrying them like he's done it before. What the hell have you been teaching him, Edward?"

"What any father teaches his son."

"Which is?"

"What he knows."

I just stared at him, knowing my face held a soft, growing horror. "Edward, you can't make him into a little you."

"He was scared all the time, Anita, after the attack. His therapist thought that martial arts training, training him to take care of himself, would help. It did. He stopped having the nightmares after a while."

"Training him to take care of himself is different from what's standing out in that hallway. There's a loss of innocence in his eyes. A… oh, hell, I don't know what is missing, or what's there that shouldn't be, but I know it when I see it."

"It's the look that you have in your eyes, Anita. It's the look that I have in mine."

"He is not like us," I said.

"He's killed twice."

"He killed the wereanimal that killed his father and would have slaughtered them all. He killed the woman who raped him."

"It's pretty to think that it matters why you take a life. I guess it does, but what the taking of a life does to you inside doesn't care why you did it. You either can kill and sleep nights, or you can't. Peter isn't bothered by the killing, Anita. He's bothered by what the bitch did to him. He's bothered by the fact that he couldn't protect his sister."

"No one sexually abused Becca," I said.

"No, thank God, but her hand is still stiff sometimes. She has to do hand-strengthening exercises. The hand works, but it's not a hundred percent."

"And the man who tortured her is dead," I said.

Edward gave me those cold blue eyes. "You killed him for me."

"You were a little busy," I said.

"Yeah, dying."

"You didn't die," I said.

"I came as close as I've ever come. But I knew you'd save the kids. I knew that you would see it right."

"Edward, don't do this to me."

"Don't do what?" he asked.

"Don't make me part of taking Peter's childhood away from him."

"He's not a child, Anita."

"He's not a grown-up either," I said.

"And how do you grow up if no one shows you how?"

"Edward, we're going up against some of the most dangerous vampires that you and I have ever faced. Peter can't be that good yet. He can't be up to that skill level, no matter how much you've taught him. If you want to get him killed, fine, he's your kid, but I will not be a part of it. I will not help you get him killed in some macho bullshit initiation thing. I won't do it. Do you understand me? I won't allow it. Maybe you can't send him home, but I can."

"How?" he asked.

"What do you mean, how? I tell him to go the fuck home before he gets himself killed."

"He won't go."

"I can demonstrate that he's out of his depth, Edward."

"Don't humiliate him, Anita, please."

It was the
please
that got me. "You'd rather he die than get humiliated?"

Edward swallowed hard enough that I heard it. He turned away so I couldn't see his face. Not a good sign. "When I was sixteen, I'd rather have died than have a woman I loved humiliate me. He's sixteen and male, don't do that to him."

"Wait, what did you say?"

"I said, he's sixteen and male, don't humiliate him."

I went to him, walked around so that he had to meet my eyes. "Not that part."

Edward looked at me, and there was real anguish in his eyes. "Jesus, Edward, what is it?"

"His therapist says that an event like what happened to him just as his sexuality was awakening can be a defining event."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means that his view of sex and violence is all mixed up together."

"Okay, what does that mean, exactly?"

"It means he's had two girlfriends in the last year. The first one was perfect. She was quiet, respectful, pretty. They were sweet together."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Her parents called one night and asked what kind of monster our son was, that he'd hurt their daughter."

"Hurt her how?"

"The usual. She was a virgin and they didn't do enough foreplay."

"It happens," I said.

"But the girl claimed that when she told him it hurt, he didn't stop."

"Sounds like buyer's remorse to me, Edward."

"I thought so, too, until the second girl. She was rough trade, Anita. As bad as the first girl had been good. She slept around, and everyone knew it. She broke up with Peter, said he was a freak. This girl was a freak, Anita. She was all leather and spikes and piercings, and it wasn't just for show. She said he hurt her."

"What did Peter say?"

"He said he didn't do anything she didn't ask him to do."

"What does that mean?"

"I wish I knew."

"He won't tell you?" I asked.

"No," Edward said.

"Why not?"

"I think it's rough sex. I think he's embarrassed to talk about it, or what they did was bad enough that he thinks I will think he's a freak, too. He doesn't want me to think that."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. Sometimes silence is the best you can do. Then I thought of something worth saying. "Liking rough sex doesn't make you a freak."

He looked at me.

"It doesn't," I said, and I felt myself begin to blush.

"It's not my thing, Anita. It just doesn't move me."

"Everyone has things that do it for them, Edward."

"Rough does it for you?"

"Sometimes."

"When a kid is abused, they can react a lot of different ways; two of the choices are that they identify with the abuser and become abusers, or they embrace the role of victim. He didn't embrace the role of victim, Anita."

"What are you saying, Edward?"

"I don't know yet. But his therapist says that he's also identified with his savior, you. He has another option besides just victim or abuser; he has you."

"What does that mean, he has me?"

"You saved him, Anita. You took off the ropes, the blindfold. He'd just had the first sex of his life, and he looks up and sees you."

"He was raped," I said.

"It's still sex. Everyone likes to pretend that it's not, but it is. It may be about dominance, and pain, but it's still sex. I'd take it away, make it so it never happened, but I can't. Donna can't. His therapist can't. Peter can't."

My eyes were burning. Damn it, I would not cry. But I remembered a fourteen-year-old boy who I'd had to watch be abused on camera. They'd done it so I'd do what they wanted. Done it to prove that if I failed them, I wouldn't be the one who suffered. I had failed Peter. I had saved him, but not in time. I had got him out, but not before.

"I can't save him, Anita."

"We already saved him, as much as we can, Edward."

"No, you saved him."

I realized in that one statement that Edward blamed himself, too. We'd both failed him, then. "You were saving Becca at the time."

"Yes, but what that bitch did to Peter is still happening. It's still inside him, in his eyes. I can't fix it." His hands clenched into fists. "I can't fix it."

I touched his arm. He flinched but didn't pull away. "You don't fix shit like this, Edward, not outside television sitcoms. In real life you don't fix this. You can make it better, you can heal, but it doesn't just go away. Real life doesn't fix that easy."

"I'm his father, or all the father he has. If I don't fix it, who can?"

"No one," I said. I shook my head. "Sometimes you just accept your losses and move on. Peter's scarred, but he's not broken beyond repair. I've talked to him on the phone, I've looked in his eyes. I see the person he's becoming, and it's a strong person, a good person."

"Good." He laughed and it was a harsh sound. "I can only teach him what I am, and I'm not good."

"Honorable then," I said.

He thought about that, then nodded. "Honorable. I'll take that, I guess."

"Strong and honorable is not a bad legacy, Edward."

He looked at me. "Legacy, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I shouldn't have brought Peter."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"His skills aren't a good match for this job," he said.

"No," I said, "they aren't."

"You can't send him home, Anita."

"You'd really rather see him dead than humiliated?"

"If you humiliate him, it will destroy him, Anita. It will destroy that part of him that wants to save people and not hurt them. If he gives up that part of himself, I'm afraid that all that will be left is a predator in training."

"Why do I feel like you're leaving out stuff?"

"Because this is the short version, remember?"

I nodded, then shook my head. "Jesus, Edward, if this is the short version, I'm not sure my nerves can take the long one."

"We'll keep Peter in the background, as much as we can. I've got more backup on the way, but I'm not sure they'll get here in time." He glanced at his watch. "We're running out of time."

"Let's do this."

"With Peter and Olaf?" He made it a question.

"He's your kid, and Olaf is good in a fight. If Olaf gets out of hand, we kill him."

Edward nodded. "My thought, exactly."

I wanted to let it go, God knew I did, but I couldn't. I was a girl and I couldn't let it go. "Did you say that Peter was in love with me?"

"I wondered if you'd heard that."

"I understand why he has a crush on me, I guess. I saved him. You hero-worship someone who saves you."

"It may be a crush, or hero worship, but remember, Anita, that it's the strongest emotion he's ever had for a woman. It may not be love, but if you've never felt anything stronger, how do you tell the difference?"

The answer was, you don't. I just didn't like that answer, not one little bit.