Anita took until four in the afternoon to crawl out of bed. She’d had a long night and a somewhat messed up zombie raising followed by a very frustrating visit with Jean-Claude.
She’d wanted to know what they were going to do about Summers only to be informed that they would do nothing. Absolutely nothing. Asher was in contact with her, as were Damien and Richard. Micah was working on putting together a stack of questions that he intended to ask Summers and her shifters, trying to make the Coalition better. Jay’s accusation was eating at his pride in what he had helped build.
Jean-Claude thought that was enough to keep tabs on her. When Anita argued that the girl was dangerous he had simply agreed and tried to change the topic. When she had told him he was being blind and idiotic, he had yelled at her. Actually yelled. Jean-Claude never yelled. Okay, so she didn’t usually accuse him of putting his city in danger just because he thought someone was hot, but Jean-Claude never yelled. It was a rule.
He whispered, purred, stated, growled, hissed. He did not yell. But at her accusation he had completely blown up in her face.
“And what would you have me do, Anita?” he had asked, arms spread wide, “Would you have me attack her? You have felt her power as much as I have and you have felt what is underneath. She has no designs on us or our people. She wants to be left alone. I know you have problems giving in to other people’s wishes but just this once, your gun is not the answer to a problem. If we make Miss Summers our enemy, we will soon have the Council back in our territory and we will lose against them. Do try to think with your head instead of your trigger finger for once!”
And then he’d kicked her out. He had kicked. Her. Out. Of. The. Circus. Her mind was still reeling from that alone by the time she got home.
It had taken hours to fall asleep after that, hours of brooding and finally, admitting that maybe, just maybe, potentially and probably not, she was wrong. She had
gotten very used to shooting first and asking questions later. It came with the job description. But if her job description now included attacking peaceful people just because they had the potential to become a threat…well, you can’t just shoot everyone with two hands because they might use them to fire a gun, could you?
But just because you’re paranoid that doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you. So what was she supposed to do? Sit idly by and wait for the shit to hit the fan and then start shooting a lot of people? Or go out and try to intimidate Summers into submission, which was bound to go wrong. Elisabeth Summers was no Nathaniel. She wasn’t even a Jason or Micah.
The only time Anita had ever tasted power like hers had been when Belle Morte had tried to set up shop in her head. The whole situation was giving her a headache. There was a reason no-one usually called her in before bodies started piling up. She simply wasn’t good at the waiting game. At all.
It had been almost sunrise when she had finally decided on a plan of action. She would not try to harm Elisabeth because both Jean-Claude an Richard would have her hide if she did. But she wouldn’t let this go either. It was against her nature to do so. Instead, she would keep an eye on the situation, curb her more violent impulses and see what happened.
The plan was simple enough that she actually had a chance of sticking to it. No guns. Just patience. It was her new motto. Maybe she would stitch it on a pillow case. Yeah, right.
Coffee. She needed coffee. Lots of it. Enough to drown her frustrations in it. Because her plan meant that she would probably have to apologize to Jean-Claude. Anita hated apologizing in general and to Jean-Claude in particular. He always looked at her in that way that said, ‘if you’d just listened to be in the first place, you wouldn’t have to apologize now’, which was basically his way of saying, ‘neh neh, I told you so’.
Anita hated people telling her, ‘I told you so’.