Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter #16 - Blood Noir by Laurell K. Hamilton Page A

motioned at the mob they were pushing back. “The guard was right; unless we’re willing to get rough, we could get hurt. I don’t want to take another beating for Keith.”
    They pushed them back, like a weird version of a football scrimmage line, except with cameras and microphones. The reporters were shouting at us, at the guards, at each other, so that it was noise like a storm, so all the sounds combined into one roar of unintelligible noise. When there was room, the nervous guard opened the door for Jason. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but I didn’t have a better one. He got out and helped me out of the cab. I thought we would go blind from the flashes before we’d moved two feet. I clung to Jason’s hand, trying to shield my vision and wondering what the hell I’d done with my sunglasses. If I’d ever needed them, it was now.
    There were cries of “Keith, Keith!”
    Jason waited for a little lull in the murmurous noise. He spoke loud and clear, “My name is Jason Schuyler.”
    They didn’t believe him. They said so. They also pressed in on the circle of men protecting us. We came to a standstill on the sloping driveway. The guards and valets kept them back but couldn’t move forward.
    Jason shouted this time, “My name is Jason Schuyler. Who wants proof?” He got out his wallet.
    “Who wants to put my driver’s license on camera?”
    There was a lot of jostling for that, and while they argued over who got it, I whispered, “Cover your number and address.”
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    He nodded, and changed his hands around so only his picture and state were visible. The lucky winner got to come forward with a camera and a crew, and filmed the license. The guards actually let them through, but the rest were more patient now, waiting their turn or hoping for blood. The talking head who came with the camera shoved a mic in Jason’s face.
    “If you really are this Jason Schuyler, then why do you look so much like the Summerland boys?”
    “We were always getting confused by people in school. You can see why.”
    “You could be triplets,” she said.
    He nodded, sort of grimly. “I’m home to visit my family, which has nothing to do with the Summerland wedding. I just need everyone to let me have some room to visit my folks.”
    “What brings you home?”
    He looked at me. I shrugged. “My father is dying of cancer. He doesn’t have long. I’d ask that everyone give us some space to say good-bye.”
    “And who is your father?”
    “If I tell you, are you guys going to bug him in the hospital?”
    “We’d love your family’s take on having a son who looks so much like the famous Summerland twins.”
    “My dad is dying. He has weeks. Please, I’m begging you, don’t torment him. Please.”
    Someone yelled from the crowd, “Who’s the brunette?”
    Jason stepped back and I was suddenly on mic. “I’m Anita Blake.”
    “Who are you to the Summerlands?”
    “No one to them; other than knowing of Governor Summerland I’d never heard of his family until today. I’m Jason Schuyler’s…good friend.” There, the first awkward pause. I was betting it wouldn’t be the last one.
    Jason put his hands on my shoulders from where he stood beside me. The flashes intensified. Another voice yelled out, “Hey, you’re Jean-Claude’s Anita Blake, aren’t you?”
    Jean-Claude’s Anita Blake; not federal marshal Anita Blake, not the vampire executioner Anita Blake; no, I was just Jean-Claude’s girlfriend. Great.
    “Yes,” I said. Who was I to quibble?
    “Oh, my God, you’re Ripley!” A woman’s voice from the crowd. Ripley was the name Jason stripped under. Yes, he had chosen his stage name because of the movie Alien . When I’d asked him why, he’d replied, “Sigourney Weaver is so hot.” His more ardent fans called him Rip for short. He had a fan among the press. That was going