Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

bare and impersonal except for the suitcase, which lay closed on top of the chest of drawers.
    Stefan waited until the other vampire had shut the door before he said in a cold voice, “There is no one trying to sleep tonight in this hotel.”
    It seemed an odd remark, but the stranger seemed to know what Stefan meant because he giggled, cupping a hand coyly over his mouth in a manner that seemed more in keeping with a twelve-year-old girl than a man of any age. It was odd enough that it took me a while to assess Stefan’s remark.
    Surely he hadn’t meant it the way it sounded. No sane vampire would have killed everyone in the hotel. Vampires were as ruthless as the werewolves in enforcing their rules about not drawing unwanted attention to themselves—and wholesale slaughter of humans would draw attention. Even if there weren’t many guests, there would be employees of the hotel.
    The vampire dropped his hand from his face leaving behind a face empty of amusement. It didn’t make me feel any better. It was like watching Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the change was so great.
    â€œNo one to wake up?” he asked, as if he hadn’t reacted in any other way to Stefan’s comment. “You might be right. It is still poor manners to keep someone waiting at the door, isn’t it? Which one of her minions are you?” He held up a hand. “No, wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess.”
    While Stefan waited, all of his usual animation completely shut down, the stranger walked all the way around him, pausing just behind us. Unconstrained by anything but the leash, I turned to watch.
    When he was directly behind Stefan, the other vampire bent down and scratched me behind my ears.
    I usually don’t mind being touched, but as soon as his fingers brushed against my fur I knew I didn’t want him touching me. Involuntarily, I hunched away from his hand and into Stefan’s leg. My fur kept his skin away from mine, but that didn’t keep his touch from feeling filthy, unclean.
    The scent of him lingered on my fur and I realized the unpleasant odor that had been clogging my nose was coming from him.
    â€œCareful,” Stefan told him without looking around. “She bites.”
    â€œAnimals love me.” The remark made my flesh crawl it was so inappropriate coming from this…creeping monster. He crouched on his heels and rubbed my ears again. I couldn’t tell if Stefan wanted me to bite him or not. I chose not, because I didn’t want the taste of him on my tongue. I could always bite him later if I wanted to.
    Stefan didn’t comment, nor did he look anywhere except straight in front of him. I wondered if he would have lost status points if he’d turned. Werewolves play power games, too, but I know the rules for them. A werewolf would never have allowed a strange wolf to walk behind him.
    He left off petting me, stood up, and walked around until he faced Stefan again. “So you are Stefan, Marsilia’s little soldier boy. I have heard of you—though your reputation is not what it once was, is it? Running away from Italy like that would soil any man’s honor. Somehow, still, I expected more. All those stories…I expected to find a monster among monsters, a creature of nightmares who frightens even other vampires—and all I see is a dried-up has-been. I suppose that’s what happens when you hide yourself in a little backwater town for a few centuries.”
    There was a slight pause after the other vampire’s last words.
    Then Stefan laughed, and said, “Whereas you have no reputation at all.” His voice was lighter than usual, sounding almost rushed, as if what he was saying was of no moment. I took a step away from him without meaning to, somehow frightened by that light, amused voice. He smiled gently at the other vampire and his tone softened further as he said, “That’s what happens when you are newly made and abandoned.”
    It must have been some sort of vampire super-insult because the second vampire erupted, reacting as if Stefan’s words had been an electric goad. He didn’t go after Stefan, though.
    Instead, he bent down and grabbed the bottom of the king-sized box spring and jerk-lifted it and everything above it over his head. He swung it toward the hall door and then around so that the ends of the box spring, mattress, and bedding were balanced for an instant.
    He shifted his grip