Chapter Twenty-nine

I HADN'T RECOGNIZED Peter at first, because he'd done that growth spurt thing that teenage boys do sometimes. He'd been a little taller than me when I last saw him. Now he was damn close to six feet. His hair had been chestnut brown last time I saw him; now it was darker, a brown that was almost black. It wasn't a dye job, just a child's hair darkening to the color it would be as an adult. His shoulders had broadened, and he looked older than sixteen if you looked only at muscle development, but the face, the face hadn't caught up to the body. The face still looked young, unfinished, until you hit the eyes. The eyes were young one minute and cynical and old as hell the next. It would have been unnerving enough to see Peter under these circumstances, but Edward's little talk hadn't helped my nerves at all. It made me look for signs that Peter was what Edward feared, a junior predator. If I hadn't had Edward's warning in my head, would I have noticed that look, that gesture? Would I have scrutinized him, trying to see the damage? Maybe. But I cursed Edward for oversharing, cursed him loud and long in my head.

Peter wasn't Peter Parnell, he was Peter Black. He even had ID to prove it. The ID said he was eighteen, too. The ID looked damned good. Edward and I were sooo going to talk about Peter's educational experiences if we could just avoid getting him killed here and now.

And that was the real danger to Peter being here. Edward and I needed to concentrate on the bad guys, but we'd both be worried about Peter, we just would. It was going to fuck with our concentration. Maybe I could persuade Peter to stay out of the action by telling him he might get us both killed. It might be the truth.

Olaf stood against the far wall in a ring of bodyguards. They hadn't disarmed him, yet, but my reaction to him coming through the door had made them not like him at all. Or maybe it was the fact that he was taller than Claudia, which put him perilously close to seven feet tall. He wasn't thin, but I'd seen him shirtless and knew that there was nothing but muscle under that pale skin, a lot of muscle. But it was lean muscle, muscle that could move fast. Even standing still, there was a potential in Olaf that just about raised the hairs on your neck. He was still perfectly bald, with a dark shadow of almost-beard on chin and jaws and upper lip. He was one of those men who needed to shave twice a day to stay perfectly shaved. His eyes were so deep set it was like staring into twin caves. Dark eyes, set deep in a pale face. His eyebrows were black above them. He was dressed in the same black I'd seen him in almost two years ago. Black T-shirt, black leather jacket, black jeans, over black boots. I wanted to ask him if he owned anything with color to it, but I didn't want to tease him. One, he didn't like to be teased; two, I wasn't sure if he'd think I was flirting. I just didn't understand Olaf enough to mess with him.

He was trying to be neutral in the circle of bodyguards, but there was something in him that was never truly neutral. Most serial killers make the neighbors say, He was such a quiet man, a nice boy, so surprised. Olaf had never been a nice boy. I'd seen him vanish into a nighttime field in plain sight, like magic. Not supernatural powers, but military training. Edward had called him a special-ops spook, and I'd seen it work. I knew that all that tall muscled violence could melt into the night. What I didn't believe was that it could pretend to be harmless and do undercover work. Edward did that kind of work, and was fabulous at it. But Edward was sane, and Olaf wasn't. Crazy people have trouble stopping the crazy long enough to blend in with the normals.

He put that cave-dweller gaze on me. I shivered, because I couldn't help it. He actually smiled. He liked that I was afraid of him. He liked that a lot. A part of me screamed, Kill him now. The rest of me really didn't disagree with that little voice.

"We need the muscle," Edward said at my side.

"You're reading my mind," I said.

"I know you."

I nodded. "Yeah, you know me." I glared at him. "And yet this is who you bring to my party."

"He had no choice," Olaf said in that deep, rumbling voice that seemed to come from the very center of that big chest.

"I heard that," I said.

Claudia said, "Anita, what is he?" She jerked a thumb at him.

"Backup," I said.

She gave me a look.

"He's given his word of honor that he'll behave himself while he's in our city."

"Behave himself how?" Remus asked.

I looked at Edward. "You explain it. I need to get some paperwork from Jean-Claude's room."

"Paperwork," he said.

I nodded. "I think I've got warrants of execution for the two vamps that fucked us earlier."

"I thought no one knew they were in town," he said.

"They've been setting up some of the vamps from the Church of Eternal Life."

"Busy girls," Edward said.

"They were women, these vampires?" Olaf asked. His voice was neutral, I'd give him that.

I hated to answer his question, because if the driver's license photos looked as much like the vampires Mercia and Nivia as I remembered, then I knew why two of Malcolm's people had been naughty. The Harlequin were spies and covert ops; a little play-acting was right up their alley. Was I certain that Mercia and Nivia had pretended to be Sally Hunter and Jennifer Hummel? No. Was I almost sure? Yes. Was I sure enough to use the warrants to kill them? Oh, yes.

"Yes, they were both female," I said, and I didn't look at him as I said it.

"Are we going to kill them?"

"Probably."

"What do they look like?" he asked, and his voice was losing its neutral edge.

"Why does that matter to you?" Claudia asked.

I forced myself to look up and meet Olaf's gaze. I fought to watch his face while I said, "They fit your vic profile, if that's what you want to know. One of them maybe a little tall, but the other one is juuust right."

The look on his face… such joy, such anticipation. It made me want to cry, or scream, or shoot him.

"Vic profile," Claudia said. "What are you saying?"

"Olaf is special ops. He's an assassin, and a soldier, and a spook, and he's good at all of it."

"Not just good," he said, "I am the best."

"I'll let you and Edward discuss that someday, but he's good, Claudia. He's backed my play before, and he was… useful." I licked my lips. "But no woman of any description is to be alone with him at any time."

"Why?" she asked.

"I gave my word," Olaf said.

"I'm going to treat you like a recovering alcoholic, Olaf. Let's just keep temptation out of reach, okay?"

"We are going to slaughter these two women together, correct?" he asked.

I licked my suddenly dry lips again, then nodded. "I think so."

"Then I will not be tempted elsewhere."

Normally, I'd have just used silver shot and blown holes through the vampires until I saw daylight. Or maybe a good old-fashioned staking. But they were Harlequin. I would have to treat them as if they were master vamps, heavy hitters. Which meant shoot them with silver shot, then decapitate them, take the heart out, and burn them both. You burn the body in a separate fire. Then you scatter the ashes in running water, different bodies of running water if you want to be truly paranoid. Was I paranoid, or just cautious? These two vampires had almost killed Jean-Claude, Richard, and me from a distance, using powers I'd never seen before. Paranoid it wasn't.

It was a messy, dirty job to decapitate and take a heart. There were vampire executioners who quit after having to do it a few times, just didn't have the stomach for it. Did I have the stomach for it? Yes. Would I let Olaf help me? Who the hell else would volunteer? Edward would do it if I asked, but truthfully, Olaf was better at taking the body apart. I guess practice makes perfect, and Olaf had had a lot of practice.