Blue Moon ab-8

by Laurell Hamilton

  I frowned at him. "You've lost me."

  "You feel it, too, Anita. Not as strongly as I do, but you feel it."

  "Feel what, Damian?"

  "This." He placed his hand against my face, and I wanted to rub my face against his skin. I had a momentary urge to pull him down on the bed beside me. Not for sex, necessarily, but to touch him. To run my hands over that pale skin, to bathe in the power that animated his flesh.

  I swallowed hard and drew back from his hand. "What is going on, Damian?"

  "You're a necromancer, and I'm the walking dead. You've raised me from the dead twice. You've called me once from my coffin and once back from the edge of true death. You've healed me with your powers. I am your creature. I have made vows of loyalty to Jean-Claude as my Master of the City, and I honor them, but you I would follow into hell itself. Not out of duty, but out of desire. I can think of nothing better than to be by your side. Nothing pleases me more than doing what you ask. When I'm near you, I find it very hard to do almost anything large, like feeding or leaving your presence, without asking your permission."

  I just stared at him. I didn't know what to say, not uncommon for me today. But with him sitting so close in the dark room, I had to say something. "Damian, I ... I didn't mean for anything like this to happen. I don't want you to be some sort of undead servant."

  "I know," he said. "But I also understand why the vampire council made it a habit to kill necromancers. I don't serve you out of fear. I want to do it. When I am with you, I am happier than without you. It's a little like being in love, but ... much more frightening."

  "I knew we had a connection. I even knew why we had it. I just didn't have any idea it was this strong for you," I said.

  "I didn't realize you felt drawn to me as I am to you until last night. You could have chosen Asher. He adores you, and you remember being in his bed. But you chose me to kiss. Me to hold. I don't think it was an accident."

  I shook my head. "I don't know. I don't remember everything clearly from last night. The munin is sort of like being drunk."

  "Do you remember what you said to me?"

  "I said a lot of things." But my voice was soft, and I was very afraid I did remember the phrase he was searching for.

  "You said, don't bleed me, fuck me."

  Yep, that was the phrase. Just remembering it was so embarrassing, I squirmed. It was my turn to look away. "It was the munin talking," I said. "You're one of the few males that I hang around with that Raina never had sex with. Maybe she wanted something different."

  He touched my face, turned me back to meet his eyes. "That isn't it, and you know it."

  I pulled back from his hand. "Look, my plate is like full to overflowing with guys right now. I'm flattered, thanks for the offer, but no thanks."

  "And how happy are you with the two men in your bed right now?" he asked. "You've had sex with Richard now, and the marks are binding you tighter than ever."

  "Did everyone know that was a possibility but me?" I asked.

  "Jean-Claude forbade me from telling you. I thought you had a right to know."

  "I felt Jean-Claude wake this morning before ten. I felt him wake, Damian. I felt the fierceness of his joy, his triumph." I tried to cross my arms over my chest, and the right one wouldn't cooperate. "Damn it to hell."

  "I was the servant of my original mistress for a very long time, Anita. The thought of being your servant, anyone's servant, terrifies me." He touched the bandages on my right arm. "But I see them using you, Anita. I see them withholding information from you." He cradled my bandaged hand in both of his. "I swore oaths to Jean-Claude, but it's your power that makes my heart beat, your pulse I can taste like cherries on my tongue."

  I drew my hand out of his. "What are you saying, Damian?"

  "I'm saying that you shouldn't be the only one of the three that doesn't know what's going on."

  "And you can tell me," I said.

  He nodded. "I can answer your questions. In fact, if you make them orders, I can't refuse to answer them."

  "You're handing me the keys to your soul, Damian. Why?"

  He smiled, teeth a dim whiteness in his face. "Because I serve you before I serve anyone else. I tried fighting it, but I can't. So I'm through fighting. I give myself to you willingly, even eagerly."

  "If you mean what I think you mean, didn't Asher say something last night about if I had sex with you, Jean-Claude would kill you?"

  "Yes," he said.

  I looked at him. "I may be good, Damian, but no one's worth dying for."

  "I don't think he'd kill me. Jean-Claude has questioned me about the bond I feel with you."

  "He has, has he?"

  "Yes, and he's pleased. He thinks it's another sign of your increasing powers as a necromancer. He's right."

  "Jean-Claude knew you were obeying me without wanting to, and he didn't tell me?" I said.

  "He thought it would upset you."

  "When was he going to mention this little fact to me?"

  "He's the Master of the City. He doesn't answer to me. I don't know what he plans to tell you or when."

  "Okay, what other powers can I expect to gain through the marks?"

  He lay down on the other side of the pillow he'd gotten for my injured arm. He propped himself up on one elbow, long legs stretched out the length of the bed. "Their physical strength, their sight, hearing. You could gain almost every power they have without giving up your humanity. Though you'd probably have to take the fourth mark to gain the full powers."

  "No, thanks," I said.

  "Eternal life without having to die for it, Anita. It's tempted many over the centuries."

  "I've had too many surprises in the last two days, Damian. I'm not tying myself any closer to Jean-Claude."

  "You say that now, but let a few more years pass, and you may change your mind. Eternal youth, Anita. It's not a small offering."

  I shook my head. "What else can I expect from the marks?"

  "Theoretically, any power they possess."

  "That's not typical for a human servant, is it?"

  "They all gain some strength, stamina, healing, resistance to injury, immunity to disease and poison. Though again, without the fourth mark, I'm not sure how much of that you've gained. I'm not sure Jean-Claude or Richard know, either, until you pull another rabbit out of your hat."

  "Was the munin a surprise to them?"

  "Oh, yes," Damian said. He lay his head on the edge of the pillow I wasn't using. He rolled onto his back so he was looking up at me. "Jean-Claude knew of the munin, but hadn't really thought that they were the spirits of the dead and what that would mean for you. Even necromancers of legend don't control the munin."

  "The necromancers of legend don't have a bond with an alpha werewolf," I said.

  "That's what Jean-Claude thinks, too."

  I settled lower in the nest of pillows. "It's so great that he's talking about me to everyone but me."

  Damian rolled so that he was staring up at me. "I know how much you value honesty, and in all honesty, Jean-Claude could not have known that you would gain these powers. A human servant is a tool to be used, so it is good if it is a powerful tool, but you seem to be gaining such power that it may, at some point, be questionable who is master and who is servant. Perhaps it is the fact that you are a necromancer."

  "Jean-Claude told me before I took the marks that he wasn't sure who would be master and who would be servant because of my necromancy. But he didn't really explain it. I guess I should have asked."

  "If he'd told you all this before the marks were offered, would you have taken them upon yourself?"

  "I took the marks to save both their lives, not to mention my own."

  "But if you'd known, would you have done it?" He rolled onto his side, face so close to my arm, I could feel his breath against my skin.

  "I think so. I couldn't let them both die. One, maybe, I could have lost one of them, but not both. Not both, if I could have saved them."


  "Then Jean-Claude has kept all this from you for nothing. He's angered you for nothing."

  "Yeah, I'm pissed."

  "It makes you not trust him." Damian moved that one inch closer until his cheek rested against my upper arm.

  "Yeah, it makes me not trust him. Worse yet, it makes me not trust Richard." I shook my head. "I never thought he'd keep anything from me, let alone things this important."

  "It makes you doubt them," Damian said.

  I stared down at the vampire. Just his cheek rested against my arm. The rest of his body stretched down the length of the bed but didn't touch me. "This doesn't seem like you, Damian."

  "What doesn't seem like me?" he asked. His hand slid from where it rested on his side to the sheets. That one pale hand lay between our bodies, not touching, just ... waiting.

  "This, all this, it's not you."

  "You don't know anything about me, Anita. You don't know what I'm like, not really."

  "What do you want from me, Damian?"

  "Right now, to put this hand around your waist."

  "And if I said yes?"

  "Is that a yes?" he asked.

  What would Richard say? What would Jean-Claude say? Fuck them. "Yes," I said.

  He slid his hand over my waist until his arm rested across my stomach. It would have been natural to cuddle the body after the arm, but he didn't. He kept that artificial distance between us.

  I ran my left hand up and down that pale arm, playing over the small hairs on his arm. It felt terribly right to touch him, as if I'd been wanting to do it for a very long time. I didn't want him to hold me. I wanted to hold him. It was a very different feeling than what I felt for Richard or Jean-Claude. Damian was right; it was the necromancy. It wanted to touch him, explore the edges of the power that bound us, the power that animated him.

  My own personal power is closer kin to Jean-Claude's than to Richard's. It is a cool power, like an unfelt wind that plays over the mind and body. I let that cool thread spill out through my hand, down Damian's arm. I thrust it into him like an invisible hand, shoved it into that pale body and felt an answering spark deep inside him. I felt my power flare and recognize a piece of itself. Whatever had animated Damian before was gone. I animated Damian now. He was truly mine, which, of course, was not possible.

  He slid his body that last inch so that the length of him lay against me from my waist to my feet. He slid one leg over my legs, pressing himself against me.

  "You're trying to seduce me," I said. But my voice was too soft, too private.

  He laid a soft kiss on my arm. "Am I seducing you, or have you already seduced me?"

  I shook my head. "Get up and get out, Damian."

  "You want me. I can feel it."

  "The power wants you, not me. I don't want you the way I want Richard or Jean-Claude."

  "I'm not asking for love, Anita, just to be with you."

  I wanted to run my hands down his body. I knew that I could explore that body, touch every inch of it, and he wouldn't stop me. It was both inviting and frightening.

  I slid off the bed, letting Damian have the whole thing to himself. I could stand, no dizziness; great. "We are not doing this Damian. We are so not doing this."

  Damian propped himself up on his elbows, watching me. "If you give me a direct order, I must obey you, Anita. Even if that order contradicts one that Jean-Claude has given me."

  I frowned at him. "What are you saying?"

  "Don't you wonder what else he's forbidden me to tell you?" Damian asked.

  "You little bastard."

  He sat up, swinging his long legs off the side of the bed. "Don't you want to know?"

  I stared down at him for a heartbeat. "Yes, damn you, yes, I want to know."

  "You have to order me to tell you. I can't do it otherwise."

  I almost didn't do it. I was afraid of what he would say. Afraid of what else Jean-Claude had been hiding from me. "I order you, Damian, to tell me all the secrets that Jean-Claude has forbidden you to tell me."

  His breath came out in a long sigh. "Free at last. Jean-Claude, Asher, and even my master are all descended from the line of Belle Morte, Beautiful Death. She is our council master. Have you ever wondered why hundreds of years ago, most personal accounts of vampires said they were hideous monsters, walking corpses?"

  "No, and what does that have to do with anything?"

  "I've waited a long time to tell you this, Anita. Let me tell it."

  I sighed. "Fine, tell me."

  "No one thought of a vampire as a sexual object in the seventeen hundreds. There were a few tales of beautiful vampires, but they were all tricks, not real. But then things changed. Most personal accounts speak of beauty and great sexual allure." He slid off the bed, and I backed up. I didn't want him too close. I wasn't sure who I trusted less: him or me.

  When I backed up, he stopped moving and just stood there, looking at me. "The Council decides which of them will send their vampires out to make more. For thousands of years, it was the Queen of Nightmares, our leader; or Morte d'Amour, the lover of death, and the Dragon; but they grew tired of the games and retreated inside the council chambers. You rarely see them. She-Who-Made-Me took me to court with her more than once. It's where I met Jean-Claude. Belle Morte, Beautiful Death, sent forth her people to populate the world with vampires. Jean-Claude, Asher, and I descend from her line. Even her blood cannot make the ugly beautiful, though all is improved by her touch, but it is more than that. Some in her line have the power of sex. They live on it, breathe on it. They feed on it like Colin and my old master fed on fear. They can gain power through sex and use it as a second lure for mortals." He stopped and looked at me.

  "Finish it, Damian," I said.

  "Jean-Claude is one of these. In another time, he would be considered an incubus. Asher and I are not like him. It is a rare power, even among those who descend more directly from Belle Morte."

  "So Jean-Claude can feed off of sex like Colin can feed off fear. So what?"

  Damian moved towards me, and I let him touch my shoulder. "Don't you understand? Jean-Claude gains power through sex, not just intercourse, but sexual energy, lust. It means that every time you have sex, it is power. That every intimate act between the three of you binds the marks tighter and increases your power."

  I felt almost faint. "When was he going to tell me?"

  "In Jean-Claude's defense, he says it didn't work this way the first time he marked you. The sex wasn't such a strong power focus. You were three marks deep before you broke away, and it didn't work like this between you. He thinks it's the addition of Richard that's pushed it over the edge."

  "What do you get out of this, Damian? What do you get out of telling me all this?" I stared up at him in the dark.

  "My mistress controlled me for centuries with her fear and her sex. You deserve the truth, all of it."

  I pulled away from him, turned my back on him. It made perfect sense. Jean-Claude gave off sex like other people wore cologne. It explained why his first business was a stripper club -- lots of sexual energy to feed off. Did it change anything? I wasn't sure. I just wasn't sure.

  I stared out the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass. The curtains blew gently in the night breeze. "Does Richard know that Jean-Claude is some kind of incubus?"

  "I don't think so," Damian said.

  Power breathed on the wind. I could almost smell it like ozone in the air. It raised the hair at the back of my neck. It wasn't vampire or shapeshifter. I recognized it for what it was: necromancy. Somewhere close by, someone was using a power very similar to mine.

  I turned to Damian. "Colin's human servant, is she a necromancer?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know."

  "Shit." I cast outward, searching for Asher. My power touched him and was thrown backwards, out, away. I ran for the door.

  Damian followed me, asking, "What is it? What's wrong?"

  I had the Browning naked in my hand when I hit the yard. Damian saw
them before I did, and he pointed at them. Colin's human servant stood at the edge of the trees, almost lost in shadows and darkness. Asher stood a few yards in front of her. He was on his knees.

  I fired at her as I ran. The shots went wild, but it broke some of her concentration and I could feel Asher again. His life was being pulled out of him like a fish on a string. I could feel his blood thundering against his skin. His heart leaped in his chest like a caged thing struggling to get out, and it was her his heart was trying to get to, as if she could pull his heart from his chest from a distance.

  I forced myself to stop running. I stood there and sighted down my arm. I felt movement from above. I looked up in time to see Barnaby's pale face coming at me like some giant bird of prey, then Damian was off the ground and the two vampires rolled into the sky, struggling.

  I was close enough to see Asher's face now. He was bleeding from every opening; eyes, mouth, nose. He was a mask of blood; his clothes were soaked in it. He fell forward onto all fours.

  I shot the woman. I shot her in the chest twice. She fell slowly to her knees, looking at me. She looked surprised. I heard her say, "We're not allowed to kill each other's human servants."

  "If Colin hadn't known I'd kill you, he'd have come himself."

  That made her smile for some reason. She said, "I hope he dies with me." Then she collapsed facedown on the ground. Even by moonlight I could see the exit holes in her back like great gaping mouths.

  Asher stayed on all fours, blood dripping from his mouth. I knelt by him, touched his shoulder, and the shirt was blood-soaked. "Asher, Asher, can you hear me?"

  "I thought it was you," he said, in a voice thick with things that should never be in a living throat. "I thought it was you calling me." He coughed blood onto the ground.

  I looked up into the sky, and there was no sight of Damian and Barnaby. I screamed for help, and no one answered.

  I put my arms around Asher, and he collapsed into my lap. I cradled as much of him into my lap as I could get. I had to lean over him to hear his voice.

  "I thought you had called me out into the night for a rendezvous. Isn't that ironic?" He coughed so hard that it was hard to hold him. Thicker things than blood spilled from his mouth. I held him while he bled his life away on the ground and screamed, "Damian!"