by Ann Wilson
there, so Thompson took a small table and began scanning themenu as soon as he'd punched for coffee. That was delivered by a humanwaiter, not too surprising in a System Palace dining room, and Thompsonwas giving his order when King walked in. She looked surprised, butjoined him at his gesture and ordered her usual Spanish omelet, toast,and coffee. It wouldn't be quite like the same items on any otherworld, but it was always how she started the day.
When their food came and Thompson cleaned his plate, then signalled fora second helping while she was barely halfway through, King gave hercommanding officer a quizzical look. "Is everything all right, Cap?"
"Fine, as far as I know," Thompson said. "I'm just hungry."
"Hungry enough to eat two breakfasts when you normally don't eat any."King frowned. "Cap--did Carlo pull you away before that detectivechief got her fangs into you?"
"Yes, why?"
"Because some of the tapes I dug out--not the ones her Ladyship leftfor me--say that some susceptibles get hungrier than usual afterthey've become infected. But if she didn't bite you, you can't beinfected."
Thompson set down the coffee cup he'd just picked up, an unpleasantthought forming. "I . . . don't know about that," he said slowly. "Imay have a nasty mind, but I can't forget that our gracious hostessused to be a field agent."
"And field agents don't exactly have the same standards as the rest ofthe Imperial services." King hesitated. "Cap, you don't think she'd--"
"That's exactly what I do think." The Count couldn't force him, no,but a field agent would feel perfectly justified in tricking him, ifthe stakes were high enough. "I'm not sure whether it was her primaryplan or a backup, but thinking back, she could very well have lacedthat beer with virus. With you not susceptible and the rest of herguests being Kins already, I'm the only one it would have any effecton."
King chuckled. "That makes sense, Cap--but if so, it backfired on her.According to the tapes, the ones who get the hungries may becomehigh-class Donors when they're weakened for the Change, but they don'tbecome Kins."
"Oh, yeah?" Thompson grinned in relief. "I can handle that easilyenough, especially since it means the team doesn't have to break up. Ithink I'll ask to see her as soon as we finish eating."
* * * * *
The Count sent word that she'd see him as soon as her morning formalaudience was over, so Thompson was waiting in her working office whenshe came in just before noon. He rose and, since he was in civilianclothes this time, bowed slightly. "Good morning, my Lady."
"Good morning, Captain. You look pleased with yourself." The Countmotioned him back to his seat, while she leaned against her desk."What is it?"
Thompson outlined what he and King had discussed, feeling more relaxedin her presence than he'd have thought possible the previous night."So if what Sergeant King read is accurate," he finished, "I can letone of you feed, enjoy it, and still stay with my team."
"It is accurate enough," the Count said, her expression unreadable toanyone without a field agent's training. "Perhaps a tenth of those whoare susceptible do not Change into Kins. They do become the bestDonors available, though no Kin will risk feeding even from them morethan once per tenday." She sighed. "I cannot share your relief,Captain, though I can understand it. I am fully aware of the way mostpeople out-system will react to us, and being from out-system yourself,you would have gotten a far more sympathetic reaction than aNarvonese-born Kin. Your being a Donor will help, even so. Do you haveany preference as to the Kin?"
"One of the really hungry ones," Thompson said. "Otherwise, notparticularly."
"Very well. You seemed quite taken with Chief Kaufman yesterday; sheis Night Duty Officer now, so she is sleeping, but will be in heroffice about twenty-two-thirty tonight. Shall I leave word that youare coming?"
"I felt sorry for her, was all," Thompson said. "The poor kid--Yes,please let her know."
"All you felt consciously, perhaps," the Count said drily. "I read itas potentially far more--but that no longer matters. I will rescind myrequest for your indefinite assignment here."
"Thank you, my Lady." Thompson rose, and this time his bow waseverything her rank entitled her to.
* * * * *
Thompson entered the System Security office complex and approached thedesk sergeant, ready to introduce himself, but she stood. "CaptainThompson?"
"Yes."
"Chief Kaufman is waiting for you, sir. To your right, third door onthe left." She smiled. "You made a good choice, Captain. She's thebest I've ever Donated to."
"How did you know I chose her, rather than the other way around?"
"It's always the Donor's choice, sir. The Kin can ask someone, or passon a volunteer, but one will never feed on an unwilling Donor." Thedesk sergeant grinned. "Besides, her Ladyship said you had."
Thompson chuckled. "Thanks, Sergeant. Third on my left, you said."He went to the door she'd described, still amused. Now that the dangerof becoming one himself was past, he discovered he was beginning tolike these blood-drinkers, and to hope the Count would find a good,sympathetic Liaison Officer.
He didn't have to knock; the door opened as he neared it, and Kaufmaninvited him in with a flourish. "Nice to see you again, Captain," shesaid, smiling--and this time Thompson let himself respond to her hungerand her gleaming fangs. He went into her open arms, leaning his headto one side.
She brushed his throat with her lips, and he felt amusement mixed withher hunger. "May I assume that your Corporal Nkomo won't pull you awayfrom me this time, my dear Captain?" she murmured.
"You may, my dear Chief." Thompson relaxed completely, feeling theassurance she projected. "This may be my only chance, so drink as muchas you want."
"As much as I'd take for a Change, yes. You'll go into a deep sleep,and wake up hungry enough to eat a hellbeast."
"That's what my socio spec told me." Thompson's earlier desire wasback in full force, stronger than ever; he licked his lips, wishingshe'd get on with it.
Warmth on his throat, the sensation of hunger, hard sharpness-- Hecried out at the sudden intense pleasure of fangs in his throat, hisblood filling the Kin's eager mouth, satisfying her driving hunger . . .
* * * * *
He woke with that memory, his hand going to his throat and caressingthe wounds there. It was comfortable lying in bed--he knew, somehow,that he was back in the apartment he'd been assigned--and he'd like tostay there, holding on to the memory of Kaufman's feeding, but he wasmuch too hungry. He got up and used the 'fresher, then dressed,intending to go to the dining room.
It wasn't necessary; a covered serving tray sat on the coffee table inhis apartment's living room, with a note beside it. He uncovered thetray and began eating, curious about the note but not willing tointerrupt until he'd taken the edge off his appetite. Whoever hadprepared the tray, he thought gratefully, had a pretty good idea whatone of the "near-misses" like himself needed; by the time he emptiedit, he was satisfied.
He picked up the note and leaned back, chuckling as he read it.
"Dear Jase,
"By the time you get to this, you'll have eaten and I'll be asleep. Iwant you to know: you were delicious, and I have never had a bettermeal. I hope I was able to give you as much pleasure as you gave me,and if you are going to be here long enough, I'd appreciate theopportunity to feed from you again.
"Affectionately, "Enna"
It was odd thinking of himself as a delicious meal, but Thompson foundit tickled him; sure, he'd feed her again if he and his team were herelong enough. In the meantime, until he got orders, he and his teamwere on leave, and as he'd told Audra, they might as well takeadvantage of their stay in a System Palace.
For the rest of the day, they did just that. Their status as theCount's guests let them enjoy the prerogatives only local nobility orabove usually got, and they took advantage of it in the ways theirvarious interests dictated. For Thompson, that meant a run
through theCount's target range, a hearty lunch, a trip through the planetaryzoo--he'd need a week to do justice to the whole thing, but this was agood start--a four-course supper, and an evening at the local classicstheater to see Last Starfighter for perhaps the twentieth time.
He went to bed feeling comfortably tired, and for several hours sleptwell, if with increasing unease, but about 0200 he woke and couldn'tget back to sleep. His throat itched, and he felt restless,
