Circus of the Damned Read Online Free PDF

number for Guilty Pleasures. It was a vampire strip joint. Chippendale’s with fangs. Jean-Claude owned and managed it. Jean-Claude’s voice came over the line, soft as silk, caressing down my spine even though I knew it was a recording. “You have reached GuiltyPleasures. I would love to make your darkest fantasy come true. Leave a message, and I will get back to you.”
    I waited for the beep. “Jean-Claude, this is Anita Blake. I need to see you tonight. It’s important. Call me back with a time and place.” I gave him my home number, then hesitated, listening to the tape scratch. “Thanks.” I hung up, and that was that.
    He’d either call back or he wouldn’t. He probably would. The question was, did I want him to? No. No, I didn’t, but for the police, for all those poor people who would die, I had to try. But for me personally, going to the Master was not a good idea.
    Jean-Claude had marked me twice already. Two more marks and I would be his human servant. Did I mention that neither mark was voluntary? His servant for eternity. Didn’t sound like a good idea to me. He seemed to lust after my body, too, but that was secondary. I could have handled it if all he wanted was physical, but he was after my soul. That he could not have.
    I had managed to avoid him for the last two months. Now I was willingly putting myself within reach again. Stupid. But I remembered the nameless man’s hair, soft and mingling with the still-green lawn. The fang marks, the paper-white skin, the fragility of his nude body covered with dew. There would be more bodies to look at, unless we were quick. And quick meant Jean-Claude.
    Visions of vampire victims danced in my head. And every one of them was partially my fault, because I was too chickenshit to go see the Master. If I could stop the killings now, with just one dead, I’d risk my soul daily. Guilt is a wonderful motivator.

4
    I WAS SWIMMING IN black water, strong smooth strokes. The moon hung huge and shining, making a silver pathway on the lake. There was a black fringe of trees. I was almost to shore. The water was so warm, warm as blood. In that moment I knew why the waters were black. It was blood. I was swimming in a lake of fresh, warm blood.
    I woke instantly, gasping for breath. Eyes searching the darkness for . . . what? Something that had caressed my leg just before I woke. Something that lived in blood and darkness.
    The phone shrilled, and I had to swallow a scream. I wasn’t usually this nervous. It was just a nightmare, dammit. Just a dream.
    I fumbled for the receiver and managed, “Yeah.”
    â€œAnita?” The voice sounded hesitant, as if its owner might hang up.
    â€œWho is this?”
    â€œIt’s Willie, Willie McCoy.” Even as he said the name, the rhythm of the voice sounded familiar. The phone made it distant and charged with an electric hiss, but I recognized it.
    â€œWillie, how are you?” The minute I said it, I wished I hadn’t. Willie was a vampire now; how okay could a dead man be?
    â€œI’m doing real well.” His voice had a happy lilt to it. He was pleased that I asked.
    I sighed. Truth was, I liked Willie. I wasn’t supposed to like vampires. Any vampire, not even if I’d known him when he was alive.
    â€œHow ya doing yourself?”
    â€œOkay, what’s up?”
    â€œJean-Claude got your message. He says ta meet him at the Circus of the Damned at eight o’clock tonight.”
    â€œThe Circus? What’s he doing over there?”
    â€œHe owns it now. Ya didn’t know?”
    I shook my head, realized he couldn’t see it, and said, “No, I didn’t.”
    â€œHe says to meet ’im in a show that starts at eight.”
    â€œWhich show?”
    â€œHe said you’d know which one.”
    â€œWell, isn’t that cryptic,” I said.
    â€œHey, Anita, I just do what I’m told. Ya know how