mhalachai | FIC: Forty-Three: Party Animals

Inevitable Forty-Three: Party Animals
by Mhalachai
Note: As always, many thanks to

cissasghost for her beta assistance. The poll I had a few days ago is CLOSED, although it'll be a week before I give up the answers. Chapter 45 needs to be written first.

~~~~~~~

I slowly mangled a paper napkin between my fingers while I thought. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, Richard and Micah and Jean-Claude.

The fifth person in the basement, Rafael, leader of the local wererats, leaned against the wall. He'd laid down his proposition; the decision was mine.

"What if I say no to this?" I asked Rafael, ignoring the astonishment on Richard's face.

Rafael must have known I'd ask, and he merely smiled. "Then we look for a long-term bodyguard among the wolves or leopards for you."

That wasn't an option. Noah and Merle, the only two of the wereleopards with the temperament to be bodyguards, were Micah's. There wasn't anyone among the werewolves besides Shang-Da and Jamil who I'd trust with my life. They had their hands full protecting Richard these days.

I dropped the shredded napkin to the top of the freezer. "Fine," I said grudgingly. I didn't like this, not one bit, but what other option did I have?

"Then it's all settled," Rafael said. "Once you return from England, I'll arrange a steady bodyguard for you, one at all times, until we settle this matter with Olaf."

"If that's what Anita has decided," Jean-Claude said graciously. I threw him a dark glare.

"Why don't all of you go back upstairs and enjoy the party?" I snapped.

Micah took a step toward me, but Jean-Claude caught his arm. "Let us go partake in the festivities," Jean-Claude suggested. "I am sure Anita will join us shortly."

"Anita?" Micah asked. I could hear the worry in his voice, but I wasn't in the mood to be handled right now.

"Come on, it's obvious she doesn't want our help," Richard spat. His eyes were flashing with anger. Since he had no right to be mad at me, I was hard-pressed to stop myself taking the next step and turning it into a fight.

Richard stormed up the stairs. I whirled around and faced the opposite wall, steadying myself on the freezer. After a moment, Micah's steps sounded on the stairs. I didn't hear Jean-Claude leave, but the air in the room grew slightly warmer and I knew he was gone.

However, I was not alone. "They are only worried about you," Rafael offered.

I turned back to him. He had dressed up a little for the party, wearing a short-sleeved button-up shirt over a pair of khakis. He looked more suited to an office somewhere than running the most paramilitary of St. Louis's lycanthrope communities. Great camouflage.

"Them being worried about me isn't going to make this all go away," I said. "They want to keep me safe, but all they're doing is suffocating me."

Rafael crossed his arms over his chest, watching me closely. "Richard does not really comprehend what is going on with Olaf, does he?" he asked.

Overhead, there was a muffled crash. Harry's going-away party had been in full swing since a few hours before sunset. If the house survived the convergence of such a large group of lycanthropes without any broken furniture, I'd be very surprised.

I shook my head. "Jean-Claude told Richard most of it."

"That is not what I mean," Rafael interrupted. "Richard is not the type of person to comprehend what Olaf is."

I hopped up onto the freezer, smoothing down my jean skirt. "Do you?"

Rafael shrugged. "Most of my wererats understand killing, or damage, for rewards such as money or bounty. But we do not have anyone like Olaf, and that is for a reason."

Another exuberant crash came from upstairs, and I winced. In the stillness of the basement, we seemed somehow removed from all of the happy chaos above our heads. "Did I tell you why this has got me so spooked?" I asked.

"Not in depth, no."

I stared for a moment at my bare feet. When I looked back up at Rafael, my face was blank. "You know I met Olaf in New Mexico, when I went down to see Edward."

Rafael knew all about Edward, and I had already told him about the New Mexico trip. It was all on the police record, and Rafael had ways of learning about such things.

"Edward needed his expertise. At first, I didn't know what it was, but I later figured out that Olaf was an expert on dissection, dismemberment. Those kinds of things." I drew a breath, hoping to calm myself. It didn't work "Edward later told me that I fit Olaf's victim profile. He liked to rape and kill small, dark-haired women."

"Like you." Rafael's voice was soft, but relentless.

I couldn't bring myself to agree with him. "Before I left New Mexico, Olaf sent us a note. He wanted me to become his little serial killer girlfriend, or something."

"And when you turn him down, you think he will try and kill you."

"Or else he'll come to that conclusion first and decide to skip right to the 'raping and killing me' part of the night."

With an unhappy hiss, Rafael walked slowly over to me. He stopped about a foot away from me, giving me very serious eyes. "Why are you so certain that he'll come here? To St. Louis?" he asked.

"God, I wish I knew," I exclaimed. "Even Edward said that there's been no sign of him. I've got no evidence, but...." I left my voice trail off. "I've just got a bad feeling about this whole thing. I've got no evidence, no proof, but something about this all seems dreadfully wrong."

Rafael accepted that without comment. "I have well-trained bodyguards to spare, Anita. Until such times as Olaf is no longer a potential threat, they are yours." He gave me a tiny smile, the curve of his lip softening his handsome face. "Even without Olaf, you are in far too much danger these days, it seems, to be left unguarded. You are important to too many people."

"Right," I said with an inelegant snort.

"Like me," Rafael continued.

I blinked at him. What on earth was he talking about?

"You have always stood by my side, even in situations far too dangerous. I consider you a friend, Anita, and I do not let my true friends walk defenceless into the night, when I can help it." He gave me a cheeky grin, then added in a bad Mexican accent, "Besides, we Latinos got to stick together, eh?"

I smiled in spite of myself. "Thank you," I said as I slid off the freezer. "This really means a lot to me."

He nodded, then went back upstairs to join the party. I was left alone in the basement. I should have gone up, to see what damage the party was doing to my house, but I really didn't want the company right now. I hadn't been alone for more than five minute in over a week. There was always at least one other person around me. At night, it was Nathaniel and Micah, or Jean-Claude and Micah. During the day, there was a bodyguard, plus whoever else was around. In the past couple of years, I'd gotten used to other people being around all the time, especially the pard, but this was too much.

I wandered over to the wall, where we stored items that didn't fit in boxes. A feather boa, a couple of winter jackets, a clown outfit. While I ran my fingers over the boa, I tried to figure out why it was that Jean-Claude and Micah and Richard's attitudes over protecting me were so grating.

Because I should be protecting myself. That was one reason why Jean-Claude said he loved me so much, because I was able to take care of myself. Bellatrix had proven that wasn't exactly true.

But Bellatrix and that magic didn't explain why my guys were so worried for me. I think it was the human desire to understand an opponent. Once you understand what your foe wants, and get a bit of a handle on how they might try to kill you, it's a little less scary. When the person who wants to kill you is, for lack of a better word, insane, not knowing how he might come at you is more terrifying.

When I got back from England, I planned to call Edward and get more information on Olaf. I'd been trying to avoid thinking about Olaf, but frankly, if I was going to let Rafael put his people's lives on the line for me, I needed to take this thing seriously. I always paid more attention to other people's safety than my own, even bodyguards. Wererats can take more damage than the average bodyguard, but they can still bleed; still die.

One person had died for me in the past month. I wasn't going to let it happen again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although he tried not to make it obvious, as he played his first poker game ever, Harry had been keeping an eye on the kitchen. When Rafael exited the room in search of Jean-Claude, without Anita, Harry wasn't really worried. But as the minutes passed and there was no Anita, he started to become a little concerned.

As quickly as he could, Harry begged off the round, giving up all his pretzel sticks which the players were using after they'd eaten all the chips, and began picking up plates. Carrying the stack into the kitchen, Harry was surprised to see Nathaniel slowly washing plates by hand, back turned to the open basement door.

"Want some help with that?" Harry asked as he sidled up to the wereleopard.

"No, it's okay," Nathaniel said morosely. He carefully rinsed the soap suds off a large white plate, and placed it in the drying rack. "I've got nothing else to do."

Harry set the plates on the counter, then pulled over the trash bin. "What do you mean?" he demanded, scraping the plates before putting them beside Nathaniel. "The poker game still going on, and the girls are on the porch doing girl stuff. Richard and Jean-Claude are on the stairs talking, and I think Jason was going to find some different music to put on."

Nathaniel shrugged, setting his braid into a violent motion. "Don't really want to do any of that."

Harry glanced at the basement door. "Anita still hasn't come up?" he ventured a guess.

Nathaniel pressed his lips together. "She doesn't want any company. If she did, she'd have come up here when Rafael did. I don't want to bother her."

"Well, maybe you should," Harry said. "She's probably down there stewing. Get her up here to have some fun."

Nathaniel didn't respond, only washed the dishes with renewed concentration.

Harry sighed. He went to the fridge and pulled out a cola, then darted to the stairs before Nathaniel could say anything. It took a moment for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dimmer light. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see clearly.

Anita sat slumped on the same lawn chair she'd broken a few days before. She looked up as Harry approached. "What?" she snapped, a glower on her pretty face.

Harry pulled a box over and sat down. "You're missing the party."

"Hadn't it occurred to any of you that I don't want to be at a party right now?" she said sharply. "That maybe I just want to be alone?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "To what, stare at the walls?"

Anita's glare intensified. Harry was very glad the full moon was passed and his desire to appease the Lupa was lessening. He tossed her the can of cola, and she instinctively caught it. After looking at the drink for a long moment, she popped the top of the can and took a tiny sip. "Thanks."

"No worries," Harry said, trying out a phrase he'd heard Jason use. "Are you thinking about the plane trip tomorrow?"

"A little." Anita tapped the side of the can with her fingernail. "I'm all packed. All I need is to get all my guns past security and survive the plane trip. Then the fun begins."

"It won't be that bad," Harry offered. "You've got all the paperwork for your guns?" Anita nodded. "And we're in first class, with big seats. It'll be just like a long train ride."

"Except thirty thousand feet in the air," Anita pointed out.

Harry leaned his elbows on his knees. This was the last day he'd get to wear shorts, and it made him realize what else he'd miss about St. Louis. No making his own tea in the morning. No shopping trips with Nathaniel to the grocery store, or trying to help out around the house. No talks with Micah about the state of the world, or awkward conversations with Damian about how things used to be.

No more Anita, fiercely trying to protect everyone all at once.

"I promise, it'll be fine. Safe as houses."

Anita set the cola on the floor and got to her feet. "If we live through the plane ride and British customs, we still need to survive the night with Christoff," she said as she paced across the cold concrete floor.

Harry was very glad that she was facing away from him, and couldn't see his face. He wasn't about to go back on his secret agreement with Jean-Claude, but he'd had a few days to think about it, and he'd decided that a slight modification was in order. Not that he planned to tell Jean-Claude about that.

"Then, the return trip," Anita concluded. "I swear, this trip might be it for me."

"You don't have to go," Harry felt it necessary to point out. As she whirled on him, he hurried on. "We could take Richard and dress him up in that gown Jean-Claude made for you. Put a curly wig on him and say you had a growth spurt."

Anita stared at Harry for a moment before her unhappy expression cracked. "You could say the five o'clock shadow was because of the plane trip," she said as she began to giggle. "God, can you see Richard in my dress?"

Harry attempted to picture Richard in the dark burgundy outfit that Jean-Claude was making Anita take to England for the reception with Christoff. "The waist of the corset wouldn't fit over one of his legs, let alone his waist," Harry said with a chuckle.

Anita kept laughing. "And with a wig..." She put a hand on the wall to steady herself and had to draw a few deep breaths to calm herself. "Oh God, that's funny."

"I do what I can," Harry said, standing up. "Please come upstairs? Nathaniel misses you."

Anita smiled softly. "Okay."

Harry waited for her while she retrieved her cola can, and was about to mount the steps when Anita caught his shirt. "Harry..."

"Yes?" Harry asked. She was so close to him that he could see the shine of her lipstick, could breath in how she smelled like safety and warmth.

"It was good, having you here this summer," Anita said as she let go of his shirt.

"It was good to be here," Harry replied honestly. "Even with all that's happened, I... I got to know everyone, and the pack, and Damian..."

"You did good things while you were here, even if you didn't change into a werewolf," Anita said. "You know, if you ever want to come back or anything, all you need to do is call."

"Do you mean that?"

The fervour in his voice brought Anita up short. "Yes, I do," she said seriously. "Any time. Everyone would be glad to see you. The pack, the pard, Damian, everyone."

"I may have to take you up on that," Harry said. He tried to make his words sound light, but inside he was so happy he almost couldn't speak. He had a place here.

Anita gave him another smile, then hopped up the steps. Harry followed more slowly, trying to collect himself. This party, his party, was supposed to be a happy time. No one needed him to start blubbering like a baby about how great his visit had been.

Once in the light of the kitchen, Harry closed the basement door behind him. Anita, two steps ahead of him, made a beeline to Nathaniel at the sink, wrapping her arms around his waist and molding herself to his body. "Why are you cleaning up?" she asked lightly.

Nathaniel turned his head, and now he was smiling. "Someone needs to," he replied.

As Harry padded quietly out of the kitchen, Anita tugged Nathaniel around and gave him a sloppy kiss. Wistfully, Harry averted his eyes. Nathaniel was so lucky, Harry reflected as he was hailed by the poker players, who were now playing for hard candies. Nathaniel had Anita to love him, and she loved him back. It must be nice to have someone love you like that, Harry thought as he took Jamil's place at the poker table. Someone who can protect you and you can protect and do nice things for.

Harry fancied that it would be nice, to have a life with someone to love him like that.

"Hey, Harry, are you in on this hand?"

"Sure."

~~~~~~~~

I leaned over the porch railing, cup of punch in my hand. The boys had lit up a bunch of tiki torches in the backyard and were playing a game of touch football in the dark. They were having so much fun that I'd stayed out here to watch them.

A cool presence at my side told me that Damian was watching, too. "So, have you figure out how you're going to say goodbye to Harry?" I asked, draining my cup.

It's difficult to silently express awkwardness in the dark, but Damian managed it. "I am not good with words," he said quietly. "I talked to Harry tonight and wished him well."

I put my cup down, then slipped my hand into Damian's. "He had a good time this summer." I paused to watch Harry throw the ball to Jason. The ball wobbled in the air, and he was mocked by the other players for the throw, but it didn't stop the huge grin on the boy's face. "Even with the abandonment and the lycanthropy and the murder attempts."

"He is a good man."

We continued to watch the game for a while, until I asked, "Did the other vampires leave?"

"Requiem left with Graham," Damian said. "With both Requiem and Jason to be gone for two days, the work schedule at Guilty Pleasures has apparently been thrown out of order."

"Yeah, I heard. Gregory was complaining about it all afternoon." I paused. "So, um, did Asher ever come by?"

Damian went still. "No, he did not," he finally said.

I was glad it was dark. No one saw the way I was pouting, like a spoiled child. "But I haven't seen hardly any of him all month," I said, trying to keep the whine out of my voice. "I thought he'd at least come by and say goodbye."

"I do not think Asher would voluntarily attend an event where Harry was present," Damian said.

I frowned. "What?" I demanded. "What are you talking about?"

Damian carefully withdrew his hand from mine. "I think you should ask Jean-Claude about--"

"No, Damian, you know something, just tell me!"

Damian heaved a tiny sigh. "Asher does not like Harry."

"Yeah, that much I got," I retorted. "But why not?"

Damian placed his hands on the railing, carefully not looking at me. "Asher is jealous of Harry."

"Asher's what?" I exclaimed loudly. The football players stopped and looked at me for a second, all except Jason, who kept his head very carefully down.

"I cannot--" Damian started, but I was already heading into the house.

I found Jean-Claude lounging on the stairs, deep in conversation with Micah. "Why isn't Asher here?" I asked, planting my feet firmly on the ground.

Jean-Claude closed his eyes as if in pain. "Ma petite, he simply--"

"Don't give me any of that 'he simply couldn't find the time' crap," I spat. My head was spinning. "Is this about Harry?"

Jean-Claude levelled his dark blue eyes at me. His expression was carefully blank, which only made my heart beat faster. He only did that with me when he knew that I'd be pissed off with what he had to tell me. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation in private," he said.

I spun on my heel and marched into my bedroom. Jean-Claude came into the room after me, alone, and closed the door. "Where's Micah?" I asked.

Jean-Claude spread his hands wide. "I want to have this conversation without an audience," he said.

"What conversation?" I demanded. "What the fuck is going on? Damian said that Asher was jealous of Harry. What the hell was he talking about?"

Jean-Claude fiddled with one of his cufflinks. "Ma petite, you know how much time you have been spending with Harry this past month," he said carefully.

"So what? There's been a lot of stuff going on, but there is absolutely no reason for Asher to be jealous!" I paced across the room, wanting to kick something. "What could Asher be jealous of? Harry's just a kid!"

"I will spare you a list of Asher's exploits when he was seventeen, ma petite." Jean-Claude intercepted my path and put his hands on my arms. "In our time, a young man of seventeen, spending so much time in the company of a lady--"

"What the fuck is wrong with Asher?" I interrupted. "And you! Letting him think like that? God! You know I'd never do anything to Harry!" I pulled away from him and put some distance between us. "What is wrong with everyone?"

"Ma petite..." Jean-Claude gradually moved in, and this time when he touched my back, I didn't push him away. "I know you would never do anything to Harry, and I know how he considers you. Nevertheless, in spite of all my attempts to convince Asher to the contrary, he persists in believing there is some basis to his suspicions."

"That's insane!" I said. Hearing this was like a kick to the stomach. How could Asher even think these things about me? "Why is he he doing this? I thought he knew me better than that."

Jean-Claude rubbed circles on my back. After a few moments, I turned and wrapped my arms around him. "Asher misses you, ma petite. He still fears the day that you will leave him, and he has convinced himself that Harry will be the man to make you to look elsewhere."

"Well, Asher's stupid," I said, voice muffled by Jean-Claude's shirt.

Jean-Claude sighed, tightening his embrace around me. "Please, ma petite, for both our sakes, do not use that as your main argument with Asher."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to say to him? And when? I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

Jean-Claude touched my face. I lifted my head to look at him. "You will simply have to come back and tell Asher then," he said.

There it was, the tiniest hint of worry. This wasn't about Asher, or Olaf. "You know I will." I raised up to kiss him gently, but he took my face in his hands and deepened the kiss. I opened my mouth to him, kissing him back just as fiercely. I didn't stop until I felt the press of his fangs against my lip.

He let me pull back, but not far, and pressed his forehead against mine. "In spite of all I have done to ensure your safety, ma petite, I do not want to you leave," he whispered.

"It'll be okay," I promised. "I'll come back, then we can go out to that restaurant for dinner again. I'll let you order anything you like for me."

Jean-Claude smiled a little, but the worry never left his face. "Even wine?" he teased.

I slapped him gently on the butt. "I'm going to England to drop Harry off, not have a lobotomy," I said. "No wine."

"Good." Jean-Claude ran his hand over my hair, pulling me close to him. "If you had agreed to that, I would have been quite worried for you."

I closed my eyes and tried to imprint this moment on my memory, the feel of Jean-Claude holding me. "I love you," I had to say.

"Je t'aime aussi, ma petite." He kissed me again. This time, we both knew it meant something more than the first kiss. When he pulled me over to the bed, I went willingly. He kept kissing me, as if he couldn't bear to stop, as he undressed us both. I managed to yank the sheets down as we tumbled naked onto the mattress.

Jean-Claude finally broke from the kiss, leaving me gasping for air. "Wait, wait," I said, putting my hand on his chest. "I'm just going away for two days."

He smiled fondly at me, and there was sadness in his eyes. "Even two days is an eternity to be away from you, ma petite."

Neither of us could say it out loud. There was a very real possibility, however small, that something would go wrong over in London and I wouldn't be coming home.

I reached for Jean-Claude, pulled him down into my embrace. Even as I swore to myself that I'd make sure that everyone got home safe, I still kissed him as if this was the last time.

~~~~~~~~

The party had wound down. Most of the werewolves had left, but not until Sylvie had done what she'd promised, and taught Harry how to dance. It was like how to dance when you can't dance, she'd said. Gwen had laughed at that one. Harry spent the better part of that half hour wondering who led, when two women were dancing, but never got up the nerve to ask. But at least now he knew how to dance. It wasn't as hard as it seemed in fourth year. It probably helped to be seventeen, rather than just a kid of fourteen. He wasn't so worried about everyone staring at him anymore.

Harry's train of thought was interrupted as Richard plopped down on the sofa next to him. "Good party," the Ulfric said tiredly.

"Yeah," Harry said, yawning. "It was interesting."

Richard chuckled. "So, how much did you lose at poker?"

"More candy than I could eat," Harry confessed. "I think Jamil was doing that on purpose."

"Never gamble with a Skoll," Richard said.

"I only gamble with my life," Harry said absently.

Richard shot him a glare. "Not anymore, I hope."

"No." Harry drew a deep breath. "I mean, Jean-Claude talked to me, about the trip. He told me what Anita would do if she thought I was in danger."

Richard sat forward, not looking at anything. "She's important to me," he said heavily, after a long silence.

"I know." Harry swallowed. He'd told Jean-Claude that he wouldn't tell Richard or Anita about their contingency plan, even to ease their minds, but he found that he wanted to. He wanted Richard's approval, but knew he wouldn't get it, not with this plan. He'd react like Anita would, by demanding that Harry give up such a foolhardy idea.

"But she'll be okay," Richard said, as if he was trying to convince himself. "I wish I could go..."

"She'll be okay," Harry had to say. "We all will."

Richard gave Harry a small smile. "As long as you mange to keep Jason out of trouble."

"We'll try. Somehow."

"Good." Richard glanced toward the pile of sleeping wereleopards in the corner. "Look, if things go badly at school... I mean, you know you can always come back here, right?"

Although Richard had said so before, Harry felt happiness bubble up in him to hear Richard say it again, even after finding out that Harry wasn't going to be a real werewolf. "I do, thanks."

Richard stood up. "Good. Look, I need to get going, but... thanks. For everything." He held out his hand.

Harry shot to his feet. He didn't know what to say, and he fumbled out, "It's okay."

Shaking Richard's hand was an experience, full of power and warmth, and it made Harry's knees a bit weak. Richard slapped Harry on the back with his free hand. "Take care of yourself."

Harry nodded. After Richard had closed the front door behind him, Harry stood in the quiet living room. As he looked around, he realized that he was really going to miss this place. In St. Louis, he'd been able to be himself, and no one had made him feel out of place. Quite the opposite. Even though the thought filled Harry with guilt, he knew that even at the Weasleys' house, he'd never felt as much a part of things as he had here, at Anita's house. It felt good.

Everything about the house was familiar now. The sleeping wereleopards, piled in a boneless heap; the sound of Micah and Nathaniel's laughter from the kitchen; even the faint noises coming from Anita's bedroom. Harry smiled to himself. A month ago, if he knew anyone was having sex nearby, he'd have been completely mortified. Now, it was just normal, if still a bit embarrassing.

With a last look around, Harry headed for the kitchen to have one last late-night talk with Micah and Nathaniel.

If only for a little while, it had felt like Harry had a real home.
...tbc

Current Mood: pensive

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

From:

stealthyshade.livejournal.com

HARRY NO GOOOO!!! *sigh*
*sniffle* But... but... voldemort sucks... cause he has to go...
ramblage I know.
Asher is jealous over sex? Probably...
*coffcoffharryshouldboffnathanielbeforehegoescoffcoff*
Sorry >.<;;
-Owen

From:

mhalachai was here

FIC: Forty-Three: Party Animals

Navigation

Links

Page Summary

Active Entries

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags