Waking Up
by Allie
A/N: feel free to e-mail any comments. My address is [email protected]
Any comments would be adored...like getting a new Spyderco knife.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did Edward and Anita would be going at it like
rabbits on Viagra.
Chapter 1:
I still haven’t figured out what’s worse; waking up next to Donna or eating her
food. It wasn’t too bad at first. I’ve had to do a lot worse in my
job to get information or complete a hit. Hell, after Van Cleef you learn
to eat anything when it comes at you, because you never know if a meal will be
your last. But there’s only so much a guy can take, even a sociopathic
one like me. If I eat one more rabbit-food pancake, Donna may just learn
*exactly* what she’s marrying.
“Teeed,” came the whiney, slightly high pitched voice from across the table,
“you haven’t finished your waffles. I made them just for you.”
These are waffles? Damn woman, even Anita cooks better then this.
“Sorry honeypot,” I drawled, “I’m just not hungry.”
“Hmm, maybe you just need more of a workout at night.” She turned around and
grabbed a jar out of a top cabinet. When she turned back I saw what she
had, massage oil. The woman had a fetish.
“It’s vanilla cinnamon, your favorite.” I think the huskiness in her
voice was supposed to be seductive. Or maybe she had tuberculosis.
One can only hope.
Anita never sounds like that. When she’s with her boys she’s got the
voice that makes heads turn in a bar. And the body. New-age mothers
of the year just don’t give the sex that the fur-balls and fang-face are
getting. Not that I think of Anita that way. Nope, not at all.
“What are you thinking about Teddy?” How much better Anita is then you.
“How beautiful you are darlin’.”
“Oh Ted. I love you so much.”
I think I managed a smile, but it could have been a grimace. My
good-ole-boy charm never fails. Except with Anita. She’s the only
one who knows me. Not as Teddy, or Theodore Forrester, or Undertaker, or
Death, or any of the other hundreds of identities I wear. No, she knows
me as a friend, comrade in arms, a protector, and a soul-mate.
Donna must have thought my smile meant I wanted to start my workout right
now. She straddled my lap and began to play with the buttons on my shirt.
For a middle-aged mother of two, she’s pretty damn light. This means two
things. One, it’d be absolutely no fun to wrestle her, unlike Anita who’d
be a hell of a challenge; she plays rough. Two, it means that there is a
serious lack of muscle. Donna wouldn’t survive one fucking second in my
world. Anita’s seen my world. She’s played in it a few times and
she’s alive. And she has the scars, the muscle, and the
half-way-to-being-a-sociopath mentality to prove it. Donna’s just cannon
fodder. Anita and me, we’re survivors.
“Ted!” Donna jumped off my lap and Becca got on just as quickly. “I love
it when you spend the night.” I don’t.
She turned her head slightly so I could kiss her cheek. I may not have a
heart but she’s so damn cute. Then she held up her stuffed panda bear,
Pandy. No fucking way. I can’t take this anymore. The dogs
eat better then I do, and Death does NOT kiss stuffed animals.
I put Becca on the ground and walked slowly to the door. Donna asked
where I was going. I told her I had to get back home to plan another
hunt. That shut her up. She never could handle that side of
me. Ha, if only she knew. Anita had seen every side of me and she
kept coming back.
As I drove home I decided I needed a plan. I couldn’t just walk out, not
without a good reason. I shifted in my seat a little, feeling one of my
guns dig slightly into my back. Anita hated wearing her Firestar at the
small of her back. Some shit about women’s hip structures.
Anita. I’d been thinking about her all morning. The past couple of
morning actually. And afternoons. And evenings. And...oh
hell. Ever since Anita came down to help me she’s been on my mind.
I can’t stop comparing Donna to her. Maybe Donna had a reason to be
jealous. If she knew what I’d been thinking lately she’d probably leave
me. Wait.
As the idea formed in my head I liked it more and more. By the time I got
home I had a plan. Now all I had to do was call Donna.
Chapter 2:
“Thanks Micah. Really.”
“I told you I wanted you any way I could get you. I meant that.”
His cat-like eyes shined with sincerity. He really did mean it, bless his
furry little heart.
So why was I kicking him out of my house? Simple. That answer, or rather
answers, were outside packing up a dark green van.
Nathaniel walked back inside, his hair swishing behind him. He had cut it
recently. About a month ago Zane had sucked it up the vacuum. I
know he’s into pain but that had just scared him.
“You don’t want us anymore, do you?” I swear there were tears in his
eyes. Just what I wanted, shape-shifter hysterics on my front porch.
“No Nathaniel. I care about all of you, and I always will.” And
that was the truth. I just needed some time and space to my self.
Lately all I wanted in my bed with me was my Browning and Sigmund.
Really, what more could a girl need?
When they finally left, the house felt empty. But a good empty. Peace at
last.
Ma petite? Or not.
Get the fuck out of my head Jean Claude.
His voice, which use to send silken shivers down my spine now just pissed me
off. He’d been doing that a lot lately.
So you have finally pushed your fair leopard king out of your house, and out
of your bed to I hope. So I guess that just leaves me.
Shut the hell up Jean Claude. This has nothing to do with you. Not
the pard leaving and not my bed.
Your bed, ma petite, has always been a concern of mine.
It hasn’t been for the past three months. There’s a message in there
somewhere.
You always come back. He sounded so sure of that. That arrogance,
more than anything, makes me want to take a shotgun to his undead heart.
Which maybe accounted for my next remark.
Not anymore. It was out before I even thought about it, and strangely,
it didn’t bother me. There was no regret, and Jean Claude must have felt
that.
You mean that don’t you ma petite. It wasn’t a question.
Look Jean Claude, I love you, and I probably always will, but not that
way. Go back to Asher. He needs you, more than I ever will.
Merci ma petite. Je t’aime. Au revoir. Translation: thank you,
I love you, and goodbye.
I felt him begin to leave. It didn’t hurt like I thought it would.
Not like it did with Richard. But there was still one thing left to
say. Jean Claude?
I felt him pause. Oui ma petite?
There was no hesitation on my part. Stay the fuck out of my head.
His laughter stayed behind long after he cut the link.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Sometimes I hate my life.
Ring. Ring.
And I forgot to turn on the answering machine. Again.
“Hello.” I didn’t sound too happy. Go figure.
“Anita.” Adrenaline rushed through me making me catch my breath.
Edward calling always means trouble. Maybe I was being pessimistic, but I
bet someone was going to die soon.
“What’s up Edward.” My voice sounded calm, bordering on board, brownie
point for me.
“I need help.”
“From who? Anita the necromancer? Anita the bad-ass vampire hunter?”
“Anita Blake.” What the hell was that supposed to mean? Anita
Blake? Could he be any more cryptic? I can almost see the
I-have-a-secret-but-I’m-not-telling-because-I-am-a-secretive-bastard grin on
his face.
“Dammit Edward. Just tell me what the hell is going on.” I was so
not in the mood for games.
“Come to Santa Fe and find out.” Then he hung up. I stared at the
phone as if expecting it to have the answers to all my questions.
It would serve Edward right if I never showed up. Let him deal with his
own problems, I had enough of my own. But I knew I wouldn’t do
that. I’m not sure exactly what my relationship with Edward is, but we
would always back each other up, no matter what.
It wasn’t until I had packed my weapons was grabbing clothes that the true
gravity of the situation hit me. I had to fly. Dammit.
TBC...