Anita Blake, Edward and all their miscellaneous porn, baggage, wonkey powers, and the other miscellaneous stuff of their universe belongs to Laurel K. Hamilton. I'm just playing with the non-x-rated bits.summary:
A character study of Edwardauthor's note:
Minor Harlequin spoilers spoilerswordcount:
Edward sometimes wondered exactly how his life had ended up like this. He was a killer of men. He was the bogeyman of monsters. He was... dropping his step-daughter off for ballet practice. When exactly had Ted begun to take over his life? He’d begun dating Donna because Ted was a good ol’ boy, and good ol’ boys date nice girls. He’d asked her to marry him because it was expected of him at that point in their relationship. It was all just supposed to be part of the act.
But at some point it stopped being entirely false. Some atrophied part of his heart he thought he’d cut out and buried years ago actually cared
about Donna, about the kids, and it wasn’t right. Death wasn’t supposed to care about anything or anyone, let alone forty-something mothers of two who faint at the sight of blood. Becca and Donna were innocents, something very rare in Edward’s world.
Donna’s son though, Peter, he was less conflicted over. Peter wasn’t an innocent anymore than Edward was. Peter had made his first kill at eight, saving his mother from his father’s murderer. He’d made his second at fourteen after he was kidnapped and raped, and he almost took a third protecting the life of a friend. Peter he understood. He was scarred and broken, but kept walking unremittingly into the darkness. He reminded Edward of himself when he was younger. If it was just Peter... but it wasn’t.
Edward stopped the car in front of the Harper School of Dance. Ted smiled proudly and waved good-bye to his step daughter as she took the steps two at a time, ballet slippers clutched in her tiny hand. Death stared at the floor boards and listened to the accusing beat of his tell-tale heart.