Disclaimer: My cover image for the story and all characters, powers, places and overall setting of Anita Blake world are creation of Laurell Hamiliton. Please review. :)
Mizelle POV
"Her father, Jean-Claude, what the hell?" Anita questioned rising from her seat. I shook my head slightly. There was that temper that had made her one of my best friends. It was lethal, it was very effective in a fight sometimes.
Jean-Claude sighed. "Mon ami, please relax your anger is pouring through our marks." He said gesturing out his arm to the couch behind her. To my utter surprise Anita actually sat down.
"I guess, he's the anger management I kept asking you to take." I said laughing though it never truly reached my eyes, something Anita often caught and pointed out.
Anita chuckled. "The hell he is, he just fought the anger with his peace like manner-hood through the marks that bind us together." She stuck her tongue out at him and I couldn't help but truly laugh.
The laughter caused Jean-Claude to refocus on me and suddenly he was staring me down. Yet, it wasn't the stare down I was used to were usually a fight, that often I won, happened afterword. It was like he was trying to decipher me. I stared back unwilling to turn my head and show a weakness. Finally, he spoke still staring me down. "It would appear my powers of persuasion do not work on you. I was trying to get you to sit down. You're acting like Rafael's guards."
A slight look of confusion came over me, and I could feel the lines in my forehead cringe up. Thankfully, Anita explained. "Rafael is the king of the were-rats. We have a good amount of them for bodyguards pretty good too."
I smiled, even though once again thanks to Anita's observations over the years I knew it didn't reach my eyes. I had been compared to competent enough bodyguards, that was perfectly fine with me. "Well, then thanks for the compliment. So can I have the details about the job now?"
"Anita, I swear you make friends with the most exotic, stubborn people I've ever met in my life." Jean-Claude said fixing the ruffles around his wrists. I hadn't noticed his outfit 'til know but he definitely fit the stereotypical style for vampires. The white shirt he was wearing was from the Victorian age, all ruffles around the wrists and left a good amount of his chest exposed, no harm in noticing that he was beautiful. I remembered now the leather lace boots that had climbed up his calves to meet the leather pants he wore. Yup, definitely fit the bill. He shook his head. "You can start tomorrow night. Your hours are 7pm-2am. This is a night club. You'll automatically get Sundays and Mondays off, and you will be the bartender. I fear you interacting with customers at their table."
I simply nodded accepting the information, bartending worked for me anyway. I could in a way be in my own area, and from the looks of what I saw coming in I definitely didn't want to be working the crowd.
"You can pick up your uniform from Asher next door. He'll probably make sure you know how to make the drinks customers will most likely order." Jean-Claude noted tapping his finger lightly on the desk as if he was mentally double checking whether he forgot nothing. He looked at Anita and smiled. "Tonight, you can stay and have a drink and a meal on me. I doubt Anita would let you leave without catching up." Anita smiled at me and then she glanced at my arms and I mentally kicked her, as I saw the pain on her face. She really need to learn how to control her emotions. Jean-Claude quickly picked up on it and turned to me. "Do you have any scars that would be seen with a short sleeve shirt on?"
I so badly wanted to kick Anita. She forgot everything I taught her about three or four years back. I honestly couldn't remember how long it had been. I didn't even nod or answer. Well, I did answer. I pulled up the sleeves of my long sleeve shirt and on my arms was almost matching scars that went from just above my elbow to stopping just short of my wrist. The one on my right arm was cleaner, a straight blow. The second was ragged and winded down my arm. Anita turned her head, which sent to me to the memory of how I got them.
This ridiculous battle had raged for hours. The elementals had been having a civil war, for the last three years, and the dark elementals were attacking us. I was fighting for my life right beside my mother. I noticed someone charging me and ducked letting him fall to the ground as I drove my sword into him and then turned around slashing the throat of one attempting to do a sneak attack. The blood splattered my face letting me know I had severed an artery. I searched for my mother and found someone about to drive their blade through her.
I ran faster than I ever thought possible my heart about to beat out of my chest. My own sword came in the path of the blade's score. I dipped and kicked my leg out in a spin knocking the attacker down, the pound of him landing on his back ringing in my ears. I turned to my mother and noticed she had already been pierced in her side and blood was pouring out. I cried as I placed my free hand, my left, on the wound trying to keep pressure on the wound. "It's going to be okay, Mom." I said looking around. "WE NEED A HEALER!" I screamed to the water elementals near me and one ran off to get the healers from the other side of the battle field. "I love you, Elle." My mom said touching my face gently. I had become so distracted I hadn't noticed the attacker get back up until he slashed my arm, trying to restrict my movement so I couldn't fight. Another pulled me away, and I knocked my head back feeling his nose break. I was free of his grip instantly and I ran back to my mother but I was too late. Her head was a few inches from her body. I cried until rain poured down, my powers getting affected by emotions.
*Around eleven that night*
The shackles around my wrist were cold from this dungeon but wet from my blood. My father had beaten me for hours blaming me for my mother's death. He was a bastard, and a horrible father but I know he actually loved my mother. She was the glue between us. I was so broken inside I didn't even have the strength to break free or fight him as I usually would. He came back into the dungeon with a jagged sword in his hand. He touched the sword, I could smell the poison on it, to the wound on my right arm. "You got this for attempting to save my mother." He moved to my other arm and started to drag it down causing blood to flow as he pierced my skin deeper. "This is for failing her."
I felt a cool hand trace my scars and I jumped as it brought me out of that memory. Jean-Claude was now in front of me looking at my scars tracing them slightly with his fingers. Anita gripped the armrest of the couch tightly but she still couldn't look at me right now. My mom and her had grown very close in the years before the war and she was often over my house. "Who did this?" Jean-Claude asked softly. "No one that is still alive." I said pulling my sleeves down and moving out of his grasp.
