Circus of the Damned by Laurell K. Hamilton Page B

stand, as if he were stiff. Standing, Richard was taller than Jean-Claude by at least three inches. Which made Richard six-one. Almost too tall for my taste, but no one was asking me.
    â€œAnd could we talk to you some more, Jean-Claude?” Dolph said.
    Jean-Claude said, “Of course, detective.” He walked down the hall. There was a stiffness in the way he moved. Did vampires bruise? Had he been hurt in the fight? Did it matter? No, no, it didn’t. In a way Jean-Claude was right; if he had been human, even an egotistical son of a bitch, there might have been possibilities. I’m not prejudiced, but God help me, the man has to at least be alive. Walking corpses, no matter how pretty, are just not my cup of tea.
    Dolph held the door for Jean-Claude. Dolph looked back at us. “You’re free to go, too, Mr. Zeeman.”
    â€œWhat about my friend Stephen?”
    Dolph glanced at the sleeping shapeshifter. “Take him home. Let him sleep it off. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Make that later today.”
    â€œI’ll tell Stephen when he wakes up.”
    Dolph nodded and closed the door. We were alone in the buzzing silence of the hallway. Of course, maybe it was just my own ears buzzing.
    â€œNow what?” Richard said.
    â€œWe go home,” I said.
    â€œRashida drove.”
    I frowned. “Who?”
    â€œThe other shapeshifter, the woman whose arm was torn up.”
    I nodded. “Take Stephen’s car.”
    â€œRashida drove us both.”
    I shook my head. “So you’re stranded.”
    â€œLooks that way.”
    â€œYou could call a cab,” I said.
    â€œNo money.” He almost smiled.
    â€œFine; I’ll drive you home.”
    â€œAnd Stephen?”
    â€œAnd Stephen,” I said. I was smiling and I didn’t know why, but it was better than crying.
    â€œYou don’t even know where I live. It could be Kansas City.”
    â€œIf it’s a ten-hour drive, you’re on your own,” I said. “But if it’s reasonable, I’ll drive you.”
    â€œIs Meramec Heights reasonable?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œLet me get the rest of my clothes,” he said.
    â€œYou look fully dressed to me,” I answered.
    â€œI’ve got a coat around here somewhere.”
    â€œI’ll wait here,” I said.
    â€œYou’ll watch Stephen?” Something like fear crossed his face, filled his eyes.
    â€œWhat are you afraid of?” I asked.
    â€œAirplanes, guns, large predators, and master vampires.”
    â€œI agree with two out of four,” I said.
    â€œI’ll go get my coat.”
    I slid down to sit beside the sleeping werewolf. “We’ll be waiting.”
    â€œThen I’ll hurry.” He smiled when he said it. He had a very nice smile.
    Richard came back wearing a long black coat. It looked like real leather. It flapped like a cape around his bare chest. I liked the way the leather framed his chest. He buttoned the coat and tied the leather belt tight. The black leather went with the long hair and handsome face; the grey sweats and Nikes did not. He knelt and picked Stephen up in his arms, then stood. The leather creaked as his upper arms strained. Stephen was my height and probably didn’t weigh twenty pounds more than I did. Petite. Richard carried him like he wasn’t heavy.
    â€œMy, my, grandmother, what strong arms you have.”
    â€œIs my line, ‘The better to hold you with’?” He was looking at me very steadily.
    I felt heat creeping up my face. I hadn’t meant to flirt, not on purpose. “You want a ride, or not?” My voice was rough, angry with embarrassment.
    â€œI want a ride,” he said quietly.
    â€œThen can the sarcasm.”
    â€œI wasn’t being sarcastic.”
    I stared up at him. His eyes were perfectly brown like chocolate. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say