PILOGUE

MARKS TRIED TO PRESS assault charges, but Bernardo and I said we didn't know what he was talking about. Doctor Evans said that his injuries were inconsistent with being hit by a person. It wouldn't have worked except that Marks was in the doghouse about how he'd handled the case. He was in on the press conference where the public was assured that the danger was over, but Ramirez was standing up there beside him, along with Agent Bradford. And me. They put Ted and Bernardo up there, too. We didn't get to answer questions, but we got our picture in the papers. I'd have rather not, but I knew it would please Bert, my boss, and they did print it in several national papers that I was Anita Blake of Animators, Inc. Bert loved it.

Edward caught a secondary infection from something that had been smeared on the stake. He took a relapse, and I stayed. Donna and I took turns sitting by his bed. Sitting by Becca's bed. It got to the point where the little girl cried when I left.

Peter spent a lot of time playing games with her, trying to get her to smile. But his eyes had that hollow look you get when you're not sleeping well. He wouldn't talk to me or Donna. The only thing he'd admitted to her was the beating. He hadn't told her about the rape. I didn't betray his secret. First, I wasn't sure she could handle another shock. Second, it wasn't my secret to tell. Donna actually rose to the occasion. She was like this incredible pillar of strength for the kids, for Ted, even though he couldn't hear her talking to him. She never once turned to me in tears. It was like this new person had risen from the ashes of the person I'd first met. It saved me having to hurt her.

Ten days after the accident, Edward was awake and talking. Out of danger. I could finally go home. When I told them I was finally going home, Donna hugged me tight and cried and said, "You have to tell the kids good-bye."

I assured her I would, and she left us alone, to say our good-byes.

I pulled the chair up to the bedside and studied his face. He was still pale, but he looked like Edward again. That cold bleakness was back in his eyes when no one but me was looking.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It couldn't just be because you nearly died," I said.

"No," he said.

I smiled, but he didn't smile back.

"Bernardo came to see me, but Olaf never did," he said.

I realized then what he thought I'd waited around to tell him. "You think I killed Olaf, and I've been waiting for you to get healthy enough to give you the same choice you gave me after Harley died," I laughed. "Sweet Jesus, Edward."

"You didn't kill him." I watched him relax against his pillow, visibly relieved.

"No, I didn't kill him."

He managed a faint smile. "It wouldn't have been the same choice. But if you'd killed Olaf, you wouldn't have wanted to owe me another favor."

"You were afraid I'd press the point, make it the gunfight at the OK Corral?"

"Yes," he said.

"I thought you wanted to see which of us was better."

"I thought I was dying on the stairs. All I could think of was that Peter and Becca were going to die in there with me. Bernardo and Olaf were there, but you'd gone up the stairs and hadn't come back. When you came back around that corner, I knew you'd get the kids out. I knew you'd risk your life for theirs. Bernardo and Olaf would have tried, but the kids wouldn't have been their first priority. I knew they would be yours. When I passed out in the cave, I wasn't worried. I knew you'd see it right."

"What are you saying, Edward?"

"I'm saying if you had killed Olaf, I'd have given you a pass on it because Peter and Becca mean more to me than that."

I took Olaf's letter out of my back pocket and handed it to him. He read it while I watched his face. Nothing moved but his eyes. He had no reaction. "He's a good man at your back, Anita."

"You're not suggesting I date Olaf?"

He almost laughed. "No, fuck no. Stay as far away from him as you can. If he comes to St. Louis, kill him. Don't wait for him to deserve it. Just do it."

"I thought he was your friend."

"Not friend. Business associate. It's not the same thing."

"I agree someone needs to kill Olaf, but why are you so adamant all of a sudden? You trusted him enough to bring him here to your town."

"Olaf has never had a girlfriend. He's had whores and he's had victims. Maybe it's true love, but I think if he shows up and finds that you won't be his little serial killer pin-up girl, that he'll turn violent. You don't want to know what he's like when he's violent, Anita. You really, really don't."

"You're scared he'll come after me."

"If he shows in town, call me."

I nodded. "I will." I had other questions. "Riker's house sprang a mysterious gas leak and blew to Kingdom Come. No survivors, no bodies, no evidence that we did shit, or that Riker and his men did shit. Was it Van Cleef?"

"Not him personally," Edward said.

"You know the next question," I said.

"I know," he said.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"I can't tell you, Anita. One of the conditions to leaving was to never talk about it with anyone. If I break that, they'll come after me."

"I wouldn't tell anyone."

He shook his head. "No, Anita, trust me on this one. Ignorance is bliss."

"That is incredibly frustrating," I said.

He smiled. "I know, and I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. You love keeping secrets."

"Not this one," he said. There was something close to sadness in his eyes, and for the first time I realized for sure that once there had been a kinder, gentler version of Edward. He hadn't been born this way. He'd been made like Frankenstein's monster.

"No answers, huh?"

"No," he said.

We stared at each other, but neither of us seemed impatient.

"Okay," I said.

"Okay, what?" he asked.

I shrugged. "You won't answer questions about your background, fine. Answer another one. Are you going to marry Donna?"

"If I say, yes, what will you do?"

I sighed. "I was willing to kill you to keep you away from them when I got here. But what is love, Edward? You're willing to give up your life for the kids. You'd do the same for Donna. She's convinced you're her dream man. It's a good act. Becca told her what you did, what we did. Peter backed it. So in a way they all three know what you are, who you are. Donna's cool with it." I stopped talking.

"Was there an answer to my question in there somewhere?"

"I won't do anything, Edward. You're willing to die for them. If that's not love, it's so close I can't tell the difference."

He nodded. "Nice that I have your blessing."

"You don't," I said. "But I don't have room to throw stones at your personal life. So do whatever you want."

"I will," he said.

"Peter hasn't told Donna what happened to him. He needs therapy for it."

"Why didn't you tell her?"

"It's not my secret to tell. Besides, you're his would-be stepfather, and you know. I trust you to do the right thing by him, Edward. If he doesn't want Donna to know, you'll find a way around it."

"You're treating me like his father," Edward said.

"How much did you see of what Peter did to Amanda?"

"Enough," Edward said.

"He emptied the clip into her, Edward. He turned her face into spaghetti. The look in his face ... " I shook my head. "He's more your son than Donna's and has been since he blew away his father's killer when he was eight."

"You think he's like me?"

"Like us," I said, "like us. I don't know if you can rebuild someone that got that broken that early. I'm not a psychiatrist. Healing people's not my job."

"It's not mine either," he said.

"I never thought you missed the pieces of yourself that you gave up to be who and what you are, but when I see you with Donna and Becca and Peter, I see regret in you. You wonder what life might have been like if you hadn't met Van Cleef, or whoever the hell was first."

He looked at me, eyescold "It took me a long time to understand what I saw in Donna. How did you know?"

I shrugged. "Maybe, the same thing I thought saw in Ramirez."

"It's not too late for you, Anita."

"It's too late for me to have the white picket fence, Edward. Maybe I can figure out something, but not that. It's too late for that."

"You think I'll fail with Donna," he said.

I shook my head. "I don't know. I just know it wouldn't work for me. I'm not the actor you are. Whoever I'm with has to know who I am, warts and all, or it won't work."

"You know which monster you're going to settle down with?"

"No, but I know I can't keep hiding from them. Hiding from them is like hiding from who I am. I'm not going to do that anymore."

"You think I'm running from myself by going with Donna."

"No, I think you always embraced the monster part of you. You're finding for the first time that not all of you is dead as you wanted it to be. Donna appeals to a part of you that you didn't know was left"

"Yes," he said. "And what do Richard and Jean-Claude represent for you?"

"I don't know, but it's time I found out."

He smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "Good luck."

"The same to you," I said.

"We're going to need it," he said.

I'd have liked to argue, but he was right.

I did call Itzpapalotl before I left for home. She was disappointed that I didn't come in person, but not angry. I think she knew why I didn't want to shake hands again. She'd killed every minion of every rival vamp that crossed her path for fifty years, but me she hadn't harmed a hair on my head. I thought she wanted the secret to the triumvirate, and that had interested her, but that hadn't been what saved me. She'd set me up to kill the Red Woman's Husband. She'd given me the power to both attract him and withstand his charms. I'd been her bait and her weapon. Now the other god was dead, and I was leaving her territory before she decided that I'd outlived my usefulness.

She extended an invitation to my master. "We could have much to discuss, your master and I."

I told her I'd pass along the invitation. I will, but they'll be ice skating in hell before I bring Jean-Claude down to meet Itzpapalotl. She'd gobble him up. Maybe Edward's right. Maybe Richard and I would survive Jean-Claude's death. But surviving his death and surviving whatever Itzpapalotl would do to him are two very different things.

There are so many easier ways to kill Jean-Claude. Ways that would be less risky to Richard and me. I know that's what Edward wants me to do. Several of my friends are voting that way. But I get presidential veto, and I don't want him dead. I'm not sure what I do want, but I know I want him walking around so I can decide.

I'm going home, and I'm going to start by seeing all the friends I've neglected for the past few months. So Ronnie is dating Richard's best friend. So what? She and I can still be friends. Catherine's had two years of honeymooning. Time I stopped using that as an excuse not to see her. I think I'm just uncomfortable with how terribly happy she is with a man that I found ordinary and a little boring. But she glows around him. I haven't done much glowing lately around either of my two men.

I'm going to start seeing the werewolves in Richard's pack again, and Jean-Claude's vamps. First renew friendships, then if that works out okay, I'll see the boys. It's a cautious plan, nah cowardly, but it's the best I can do. Okay, it's the best I'm willing to do. Because the truth is that I am no closer to a solution to my love life than I was when I broke off with them over a year ago. The few times I fell off the celibacy wagon don't count because I was still trying to avoid them. I don't want to avoid them. I just want to know what exactly it is that I do want. Once I figure out what I want, who I want, the next question is can I have who I want or will the loser pull our little house down around us in bloody ruins. I would say it's the sixty-four thousand dollar question, but Richard and Jean-Claude are worth so much more than that to me. Maybe Ramirez is right. Maybe if I truly loved one of them, the choice would be easy. Or maybe Ramirez doesn't know what the hell he's talking about.

Edward loves Donna and Peter and Becca. They're all seeing a therapist together, but I think Peter is still lying about what really happened. You can't get good therapy if you lie to your therapist. But I think Peter is counting on Edward to be his therapist. Scary thought, isn't it?

Edward loves Donna. Do I love Richard? Yes. Do I love Jean-Claude? Maybe. If it's really yes for Richard, and maybe for Jean-Claude, then why don't I have my answer? Because maybe, just maybe, there is no one right answer. I'm beginning to worry that whatever I decide, I will be left mourning the one that got away. Once, I'd been afraid if I chose Richard that Jean-Claude would kill him rather than share me, but strangely the vampire seems willing to share, and Richard isn't. Maybe Jean-Claude loves the power of the triumvirate more than he loves me, or maybe Richard is just jealous. I certainly wouldn't share either of them with another woman. Fair is fair. Which brings me back to the original question: who is the love of my life? Maybe I don't have one. Maybe it's not love at all. But if it's not love, then what is it? I wish I knew.