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The road to Hell is paved with good intentions	By : Playmara Category: Anita Blake > General Views: 1645 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Anita Blake series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The road to Hell is paved with good intentions
- 1
I did it, and tried to translate a small part of the story into English. “Tried” is here the operative word, as I know that my English is far from good. I had absolutely no help whatsoever, so please bear with me and my mistakes. If you happen to speak German, please, please go an pick the German version, I promise it is better by far!

The story is written only for the pure joy of writting. No money is made from it, and if you are not familiar with Laurell K. Hamiltons great work, go and raide you nearest book store!

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Anita concentrated hard on the street in front of her to make out the roadway in the feeble cones of light the headlights emitted. Wafts of mist and ground frost had made the drive from Illinois back to St. Louis exhausting and unpleasant. The nearer she came to her destination the more dirty snow slush was piled up on either side of the street. Sludgy water and small crushed stones sprayed against to the underbody of her Jeep, only to clatter back to the asphalt.

With the back of her hand Anita rubbed wearily over her eyes. The last two weeks had been exhausting. Most of the time she had spent in a big, sterile looking conference center giving lectures to the police. It was odd, it only required three dead detectives artfully slaughtered by a rogue master vampire, his kiss and a group of werepanthers which happened to be his animal-to-call; and all of a sudden enough money was available to fund advanced education for the police forces. Anita and some of the other vampire hunters had cautioned for quite some time already that the regular police officers, and especially the special forces, required more training to be able to deal with metaphysical crimes on their own. But as always no one had listened to the voice of reason. Why should they? First of all they had their R.P.I.T. `s, then there were the licensed executioners who could be expected to be able to deal with all preternatural shit, like crazy vampires and wereanimals that had opted for a criminal career. Why also spend good money, and risk the grudge of the taxpayer? Why indeed?

Perhaps to prevent that one single master vampire gone crazy could assemble his kiss and his animals, and celebrate the little come together with a massacre and bloodbath, while the vampire hunter responsible for the area was still out cold in the hospital from his last assignment. Perhaps to prevent a freshly founded R.P.I.T unit consisting mostly of rookies to stand by and watch helpless and clueless themselves, as other officers got killed. It had truly been horrible…

For a second Anita gave in to the urge to close her eyes, her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, until her nails left imprints in the soft leather cover. It took some effort to push the pictures away from her mind, that came back to haunt her. Of course it had been her, who they called in after the shit had hit the fan, to sort through the mess. Well at least the training would make a difference the next time. Anita really hoped with all her heart, that the men and women were now a little bit better fitted to deal with the monsters and less likely to get themselves killed.

One other benefit of the conference had been that Anita could leave all the men in her life behind, at least for a short while. There had been no real conflicts or quarrels between them, but somehow everything had become too much for her. She had needed some time only for herself; to deal only with herself and her very own needs. At least she had thought she would need some distance between her and the demands her boyfriends, with their complex personalities, made on her. All of them carried so very much old pain, so much sadness, so much fear and worry, and Anita was supposed to somehow consider all their needs. Anita had not been able to perform the flawless balancing act any longer , and as she had been asked to be one of the lecturers at the conference, she had seized the opportunity to leave for a short while, without seeming to take flight yet again. To have some time only for herself had sounded so good to her.

And the first week an been like heaven! Despite the speeches she had to prepare and even despite the lectures and workshops she had attended herself late in the evening. It had been a long time since she had felt so relaxed and rested.

Before she had agreed to participate, Anita drove to the Circus of the Damned to ensure that her absence would not endanger Damien. The outer door had opened for her, as soon as she had got out of her Jeep which she had parked at the usual spot near the door. One of the sentries must have had recognized her from his hidden lockout. In the thick walls of the Circus a whole bunch of small rooms was scattered, installed for exactly that purpose. No one had been there to greet her, so Anita had hurried down the dimly lit staircase, to have at least some time to speak with Jean-Claude. Even so far under the ground Anita could feel how the sun prepared to rise. Through the metaphysical connection with Jean-Claude and Damien she could feel how the approaching dawn settled over the vampires senses like a velvet cloth. So indefinitely soft, so soft. At the same time so heavy and burdening, irresistible. Their hearts beat a tiny bit slower, and their borrowed warmth started to leak from their bodies, drop for drop until the sun finally would climb over the horizon and the drops would become a torrent which swept away the sparks of lives, their souls or whatever kept then undead during the blessed hours of night.

The last three of the oddly spaced steps Anita took in a jump and was happy she was wearing a pair of Nikes. Those in addition with warm woollen socks were her version of winter boots for work.

It took her a moment to find the key ring in her pocket. With the biggest, nearly antiquated, key she opened the next door. Further down the floor Jason's rooms and Asher's as well, as far as she knew, were located . Funnily she had been in Jason's personal rooms on different occasions , had even slept there but so far has never set foot in Asher's inner sanctum. She had no idea how he lived but she knew for sure that he had not only a coffin in the protected common coffin room, like some of the younger members of Jean-Claude's kiss, but rooms of his own.

Without knocking Anita opened the door that connected the living room with the impressive bedroom beyond. Again Jean-Claude had redecorated his place. The desolate bare rock walls were covered in white silk embroided with tiny golden stars. Only the wall opposite the bed and a small part of the ceiling directly over the bed had been covered in mirrors. So that the view to the construction above was not obstructed, he had forgone adding the usual canopy to his king sized, four-poster bed but opted to artfully drape midnight blue curtains on either side. On one side of the room a huge dressing table hid the entrance to Jean-Claudes walk-in closet. The sheets were the same colour as the curtains, matching and emphasizing the vibrant colour of Jean-Claude's eyes. Gold and white cushions, soft and in all sizes cluttered the bed. The soft indirect light, played along two shapes, letting their milk white skin glow, and accentuating their muscles.

Asher was lying on his back, his long legs outstretched. His golden hair encircled his head on the white cushion and gave the distinct impression of a halo. His eyelids were closed, only fluttering slightly hiding his ice blue coloured eyes, a eye colour Anita was sure she had never seen before on any human, only huskies were entitled to that special shade. One small dimple had found his way on the cheek of the untouched side of his face, softening his appearance, as he smiled in the kiss Jean-Claude first breathed onto his lips, before deepening it gradually. The kiss become more, it gained in intensity as it was deepned, until their tongues were nearly duelling, playfully fighting for dominance.

Red velvet lips trailed down Asher's chest pressing butterfly kisses on the pale skin, until the eager mouth reached one pink nipple and sucked it in, enjoying its taste and texture, like a child would enjoy a favourite candy. Jean-Claude lowered himself from the push up position, he had held effortlessly, to rest on the other vampire's body. One of his hands trailed down to Asher's groin giving it a gentle squeeze, provoking a whimper. The raven black hairs mixed with their golden counterparts, until it looked like sunrays had found their way into the deepest darkness of night.

Hypnotised Anita had watched how the men had moved. It was like a dance elegant, harmonized and so unbelievable sensual, that it took her breath away. Both vampires were only dressed in thin nothings, the thongs - Asher's golden, Jean-Claude's white – barely covered anything. Anita cleared her throat.

Jean-Claude could not resist the temptation to blow some air at Asher's wet nipple, before he sat up to swing his perfectly shaped legs over the edge of the bed to fix his remarkable eyes on Anita, a curious expression in them. He had not expected to see her this late in the night. His eyes had bled to total drowning blue, and slowly changed back to their usual look. But there was nothing usual about Jean-Claude's eyes, they were lovely in their beautiful perfection, even without vampire tricks. His eyes had the colour of the deep sea, dark, mysterious and just as dangerous for humans who ventured to far into them. Like in the deep sea one could get as easily lost into those unearthly, beautiful pools as in the deepest depth of water the earth possessed.

“Oui, Ma Petite?”

Asher rolled onto his side, propping his head in one hand to obtain a better view, but he kept silent.

Anita sucked as much air into her lungs as they could hold. The show in the bed had been spectacular, and she felt as if she lacked oxygen. Warmth had crept into her belly and settled there, small butterflies started a jolly dance. But through to her Catholic upbringing it bothered her somehow that those feelings were conjured because she had seen how two of her men had… Yes, what exactly? What had they done? Sex? They had clearly had no intercourse, following Anita's own middle American small town definition that took penetration to be counted as sex. Because they had been in the middle of some exceedingly hot foreplay? Because they had kissed lingeringly?

It was common knowledge that Asher and Jean-Claude had found their way back to each other, but Anita had forced rules onto them. Rules all of her boyfriends had to observe, whether it was fair or not, Anita could not help herself. At the same time she had Jean-Claude, Asher and Micah as boyfriends and even other men in her bed if the situation warranted it, she could not endure the thought that one of the males slept with another woman besides her, and her men were even denied the pleasures of intimacies among themselves if Anita was not involved. It just bothered her, it was nothing logical, but that was how things were.

That this little display had affected her so much annoyed Anita. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach warped into small dragons, who breathed their poisoning fire into her veins. Like little flames Anita's anger welled up from the bottomless hole she shoved it into, not to tame it but to control it until she needed it to operate her in emergencies, or when personal stuff started to overwhelm her. Now her rage boiled over, and forced its way out, it swept over her body and nearly took her over. In a way her anger was welcome. It fitted her like a well worn pair of boots, it was familiar and oddly comforting. That both vampires had ignored her in order to continue, knowing what effect they must have had on her, made it worse. Only with the greatest of efforts she managed to suppress an outburst of her temper.

The vampires sensed her sudden fury, and for a split second Anita saw how they exchanged a glance which showed their insecurity.

“Ma Petite?” Jean-Claude repeated, and his face glided in that lovely mask he had perfected over the centuries, and behind which he hide when he was confused about what facial expression would help him or would made things worse.

Asher got up as well, he used a blanket to mask most of his scars on leg and chest, and one small movement of his head let his hair spill over the cruelly ruined part of his face. What Anita could see of his face was as guarded as Jean-Claude's. Enticing to look at, but empty of Asher. Somehow that hurt Anita more deeply, it was childish, but to be even more in the wrong had never helped Anita to calm down, it made it worse.

”Asher go.” He turned his head from one to the other but remained were he was.

“Asher, get lost!” Anita repeated, her voice a little lower, as she let more of her anger soak through.

Asher did go. He had slipped into his satin pyjamas and fled the room. Anita had not seen him again before she had left St. Louis, and now she felt sorry. She had treated him unfairly only because in that moment she had not wanted to be in the same room with both of them. Asher was so insecure. So insecure that he was rarely accepted, so hurt because of his lost beauty and all the cruelties and name callings he had to endure at Belles court. He was still anxious that the love between them was not real, especially as Jean-Claude as well as Anita had a multitude of unmarred men, who would and could do anything for them.

In addition Anita had been so busy with Pard business, her usual police work and zombie animations, that the vampires had barely get any attention from her lately.

Jean-Claude had stayed seated on the edge of his bed, lovely and unreal like a doll and had explained to her that Asher had felt excluded from her favour, and that he had only wanted to sooth the others pain. That he had missed her as terribly as the blond vampire, he had not added, but a tiny hint of disappointment had been in his voice.

They had not broken any of the rules, nor overstepped any of the borders set for them he emphasized. Anita had by then already realized how much she had hurt the two of them, but only few precious minutes until dawn had remained, and not being good at apologies she had inquired if it would be safe to leave Damien behind for those two weeks. That new mess had been one clue more that she could do nothing right about her relationships in the moment and that she really needed the out time. She had royally fucked up everything. When she was back home she would tell Jean-Claude and Asher that she was truly sorry and make it up to them!

Jean-Claudes voice had been melodic and touchable as always, but stayed also unusually flat as he ventured to explain to her what she wanted to know.

“As long as you do not cut Damien off from you completely , he will be fine. There is no reason why you could not participate in the meeting, as the conference is not that far away. Two weeks you should manage, Anita. I have travelled further away from my vampires, the physical closeness is not as important as the metaphysical connection you share with Damien, and the longer the two of you are bound to each other the stronger it will become, and is less likely to break.”

The vampires voice remained flat through his small speech and he had called her Anita, not good signs. He was still angry, rather about the way she had acted towards Asher then the way she had treated him. He could take it, like so many other things he had to put up with. From his cradle his life had not been an easy one and even in death he had, more often than not, not been spared. But no matter if Anita intended it or not - the first Jean-Claude thought to be rather unlikely - she had hurt his chardonneret badly, and his friend would start again to guard his emotions so painfully closely and drift away from him, if he could not get through to him and set things right. The ultimatum Asher had given them, that he would leave if he was to be cast out of what seemed like heaven for him, still rang painfully in Jean-Claude's ears.

The statement had sounded positively good to Anita. It had sounded like she would get her trip. Jean-Claude had warned her not to overdo her new found ability to control the ardeur. She should not take risks in order to suppress it, or raise her inner shields so high that she jeopardised her grip on Damien. Midway in his cautioning, Jean-Claude's eyes had suddenly closed, and pain chased over his face, before all tension left his body and his last breath fled his chest with a horrible rattling sound. Anita jumped forward to prevent Jean-Claude crashing face first to the ground. She had struggled slightly to ease him back into the soft nest of his bed, but the marks they shared had increased her strength enough to let her succeed without too big an effort.

She covered him in one of the blankets. It was unnecessary, the dead did not freeze, they are not bothered by the cold. What the humans labelled with the euphemism “daytime slumber”, was nothing else but real and true death. But nonetheless it made Anita feel better when she covered him up. Now, as the spark of life had left his body for the day, and whatever had animated him in the cool hours of night was gone, her more tender feelings rushed back. Not that they had ever been truly been gone, but her anger could suppress so much. Seeing him helpless and defenceless kindled her need to protect those who belonged to her. She should have been more considerate and given him enough time to get ready for dying, she knew it hurt him. Had she paid more attention, she would have had felt that he would die soon.

Two of her fingers traced gently over his forehead, down to his eyes closing them for him. Hiding the precious blue jewels. She pressed a tender kiss to his brow, and then left him to find some sleep herself before she would tackle the task of packing.

Anita finally drove onto the bridge that crossed the Mississippi. The cold wind ruled in the open space over the river unchecked, and the sludgy water had frozen over and become slick like hell, so it was kind of tricky to drive over it. Anita hated the weather! The white snow flakes that started to dance from the sky, and swirled in front of her windshield did nothing to improve her mood.

She would be much happier when she reached her home at last. A cup of aromatic, fresh brewed coffee with sugar and real cream, some of Nathaniel's homemade cookies and some cuddling with Micah on the sofa, maybe a nice old black and white movie. That was what she looked forward to.

Nathaniel got infected with a very serious case of Christmas fever before she had left. He had decorated Christmas coloured paper plates with napkins showing smiling teddy bears in Santa clothes, and filled them up with sweets, one for each of the Pard and one for Anita. With a patience that would have put any saint to shame, he had sat in one corner of the living room, his ankle long hair braided to keep it out of the way, humming softly to himself and made real and true advent calendars. Not the rubbish ones you could buy in every shop! He had sat down to gift wrap small trifles he had collected over the past month and had kept hidden away in a box under his bed. With the shining eyes of a kid that got presents, rather then one who prepared stuff to give it away to others, he had added numbers and ornaments. His gift box was big enough that he got one calendar ready for Vivian and Stephen, one for Cherry and Zane and before he had started on the third and last one, he had politely asked Anita and Micah to leave the room. Happy to see the usually quiet young man that content, his Nimir-Ra and Nimir-Raj, who had watched with amusement plainly written in their eyes, had done him the favour.

In small steps the whole house had changed. Fairy lights had magically appeared on the windows. Nathaniel troubled himself to get her old nativity scene out of the cellar and had repaired its roof. It was now located on the low table that would be the Christmas tree's place also. Figures of animals were already in place, and the three Magi and the baby Christ were waiting to be placed inside at the proper time. The usual loud music with the beating rhythms the young werleopard kept forcing on his poor ears whenever no one was home to complain because of either the volume or the choice of music, had made way for occasional Christmas carols. Nathaniel put more decorations on the windows, and Anita thought they looked suspiciously self made. Somewhere he had gotten hold of centrepieces for the large table in the kitchen, in a warm red and adorned with golden stars. Anita was damn sure she had never owned such stuff.

“Nathaniel would just love the dancing snowflakes.” Anita thought, and suddenly they stopped irritating her so much. She was already at the county road that led to the field path that would bring her to her own door. Her house was far away from any neighbourhood to ensure that no unsuspecting neighbour would get in the line of fire or get hit by a ricochet, when the bad guys decided it was time to pay her a visit.

Only some minutes parted her from the bliss of her warm home. What had the Pard done in her absence to the house? Nathaniel's enthusiasm had seemed to be contagious… Her desire to be back home, which had settled in at the end of the first week, increased. It had started around the time that Jean-Claude had decided to meddle with her dreams one night. It had only been a constant rapping at her mental shields she had had firmly in place, save of the small spot she kept open to let energy seep to Damien, but his insistence had her vexed none the less. She had deliberately decided to leave her cell phone behind and even refrained from giving her men a number to reach her at all, but the insufferable vampire had clearly thought: “What does it matter? Only because the others can not have her, does not mean the same applies to me!” He had tried to alter and enter her dreams to manipulate them to his wishes. Pissed Anita had taken to drastic measures and with a piece of her shield she had crashed into his essence until he got the message and left her alone.

Anita had always been there for all and everyone. But now, in a time were Belle Morte could not confront them directly thanks to Jean-Claude's new position as a Le Sourdre Sang, at a time werewolves and vampires got along and the weranimals had a well functioning network that ensured they could count on help no matter which flavour they had, she was surely entitled to two lousy weeks for herself, was she not?

The Jeep's turn signal blinked and Anita steered her car into her own property. Her house, her home. What made it really and honest to god her home were the people that she loved. Micah, Damien and Nathaniel and all other pard, lukoi and vampires that belonged to her. Not too many years ago the monsters had only been monsters to Anita. Dangerous animals she had to kill, and bodies who had not sense enough to lay still that she had put finally to rest. Still they had not become ordinary people to her who just happened to have fangs, but on the other hand neither their teeth nor their fur made them generally evil. The time had washed out the absolute black and the absolute white of her youth, and what reminded was a confusing grey, that mirrored the truth far better then anything else before. Slowly, very slowly Anita reached the point where she could made herself out in that mirror and truly recognize herself and what it might be that she was, needed and wanted.

Unfortunately not everything was clear. So she could not made up her mind if she really wanted to keep Nathaniel. Since she had learned to stretch the time between the feedings the ardeur required to impressively long intervals, she had no longer a need for a Pomme de Sang of her own. Her usual bed activities were all that it took to keep it appeased. Surely it would be much, much better for Nathaniel to live in his very own apartment, to build a life of his own rather then to play wife for Anita and in a lesser degree for Micah. Anita had the horrible felling that she exploited the gentle young man. Since she had inherited him and the other leopards from Gabriel, his personality had developed. Now he could surely be trusted to handle his money when living alone, in the beginning Nathaniel had been unable to make it through the month with his anything but small salary, that he earned as a stripper at Guilty Pleasures. But he did most of the groceries for Anita and Micah and there had not been any troubles at all. At Anita's insistence he had got his drivers license, and was a whole lot more independent then ever before. The only thing that worried her a bit was that he was still awfully submissive, which presented no problem at all inside the Pard, but Anita was worried that he still did not know any boundaries when it came to bdsm play and would let himself be killed with a serene smile on his face. On the other hand it was not Anita's intention to remove him from her Pard or to end their friendship and when he moved near Cherry and Zane they could keep an eye on him for her, just to be sure. Naturally she would also be there for him, but she wondered if someone else was not also suitable to help Nathaniel. For some time now Anita had realized how detective Jessica Arnet watched Nathaniel, whenever she entered the office with young men in tow. Jessica often lost herself in his amazing lilac eyes, and would beam at him as she told him something while he would politely smile back in his somehow shy way. Nathaniel was a good listener attentive, understanding and open minded.

Anita had refrained from mentioning her plans to Nathaniel so far. She really had wanted him to ask to move out, but Nathaniel's Christmas fever had interfered. Anita knew that he had not had a proper Christmas celebration since his parents had died, when he had been still so very little. Gabriel had not been the kind of leader to see to such stuff for his people, and it was most unlikely that Nathaniel had a good time on Christmas eve when he was forced to work as a prostitute on the streets.

To ask him now, would have meant stealing a great deal from his newfound happiness and Anita had not been willing to risk that. She had decided to wait until the holidays were over before she would address the matter. But something she had set in motion already. She had asked Nathaniel to meet with Jessica, to watch a movie in the cinema or to enjoy a video night together. Anita had not really asked him to date her, that was his decision alone but her question had unsettled him. He had hesitated to answer and had seemed to be subdued by her request. He had kept his eyes trailed to the ground, and Anita had assumed from his expression that he was reluctant to go because he had never had a real girl-friend before and was not sure what was expected of him. After some gentle nagging on her part, he had given in with a weak smile. So far so good.

Anita was curious how her matchmaking had worked out. She felt a little bid sad, too. She wanted only the best for Nathaniel but she was rather attached to him herself.

Anita parked her car in front of the large garage. She noticed that no lights filtered through the windows and no other car was to be seen. Anita turned the key, the engine died down. The light the two pale cones vanished and left her in the darkness of night. She undid her seatbelt. The snow under her boots crunched. Her breath turned to small white clouds in front of her face. With her key she unlocked the door, and the house had a empty feeling to it. Foreboding started to creep up her spine, ice cold like the presence of a ghost and she suppressed a shudder. The eerily feeling pooled in her stomach, and decided that it liked it there and settled down for a bit longer.

“Micah?“

“Nathaniel?“

No answer at all. Without realizing it, Anita had drawn her Browning Highpower. She kept it pointed at the ceiling, as she sneaked up the stairs, the bad feeling she experienced had made her to push the safety off, and she did not want to accidentally shoot one of her friends, just in case her nerves were in the end all that was not fine. Upstairs she found all rooms empty, but the rooms were untidy, just as if someone had searched them or had packed in haste. At least Nathaniel's room was always as neat as a pin, so that was unusal. The remainder of the house was just as empty of her leopards. In the kitchen was a baking tray, full of cookies that looked like Nathaniel's handiwork. Micah could be caught cooking, baking or doing other housework, but he most certainly would not have taken his time to overglaze every singe one with chocolate and frosting, only to turn them into small pieces of art with sugar pearls. Anita took one and nibbled cautiously, it was rock hard. How could that happen between all the weranimals. Just between Zane and Nathaniel no food should get a chance to turn bad at all. That let to the conclusion that the leopards had not been here for quite some time, and nowhere was a message to be found. Slowly Anita got really pissed.

Her living room had been turned into a major disaster area. The furniture had been turned upside down, part of the wood was splintered and someone had clawed at the upholstery. Somebody had a really good fight here. Her skin turned to goose bumps.

There was a noise, someone was approaching.

TBC....?
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The road to Hell is paved with good intentions