Chapter Thirteen
I tried to reach Ariadne, but her cell phone went straight to voicemail. I tried her office, but her assistant told me she was out and unable to be reached for several hours. When I asked her to connect me to the Director, she informed me that he, too, was unavailable. I sighed, told her to have them call me urgently, that I had run afoul of Omega, and left it at that.
I stayed in Kat and Scott’s room, watching the light fade outside the beige curtains as the day ended. I looked at a clock when the last rays of sunlight were still visible, and it was just after 9 P.M. Neither of them had moved, but their pulse was regular, they reacted to prodding and other stimuli; they just...didn’t seem to want to wake up.
There was a knock on my door and when I looked through the peephole, Charlie grinned back at me, her smile overlarge and distorted by the glass as though I were looking at her in a funhouse mirror. Her cutoffs and tank top were gone, replaced by a red dress not unlike the one I had seen her wear when we first met, something with very little length and quite a bit of cleavage exposure. I tried to smile, but inwardly grimaced as I opened the door. “Hey.”
“Hay is all around us; this whole damned place is a farm town.” She made a slight gyration, as though she were dancing to music only she could hear. “What do you say we go find a couple cowboys to while away the dull hours with between now and morning?”
“Sounds like a great idea,” I said. “Because we don’t have enough carnage on our hands already without killing a couple of poor locals that are just out for a good time.”
“It’s not about killing,” she said in a soothing voice, “it’s about having some fun. Unwinding.” Her smile was oddly infectious. “You’ve been watching these vegetables all day. You need to get out and let loose. Have the other guy watch them for a while.” She strolled over to Scott and brushed his cheek with her hand, letting it linger a moment longer than I would have, and a slight shudder ran through her body. “Ooh. Is he a Poseidon type? Tastes like the ocean to me.”
“Tastes?” I’m pretty sure my face was locked into disbelief. “You touched him.”
“Yeah, it’s a sense you start to develop with maturity.” I felt a rough swell of annoyance as she walked to the other side of the bed and let her hand drift onto to exposed cheek of Kat. “Mmmm. Persephone type? If you ever get a chance – you know, maybe tangling with one that’s a ‘bad guy’,” she used air quotes, driving my eyebrows up almost to my bangs, “you need to take a drink of a Persephone. They are double yum.”
I closed my eyes and felt a throbbing in my temple. “I know you did not just suggest that I drain—”
“A bad one,” she said, her voice suddenly higher. “I’m saying that if you run across a bad one cuz I know how focused you are on that sort of thing, catching ‘bad guys’ – you should definitely drain them dry, because they are all kinds of tasty, let me tell you.” She did a pirouette and came around the bed, then brushed my hair out of my eyes, careful not to touch my face. “Come on, get the other guy and get ready. We need to go out, niece.”
I sighed. “Go out where?”
She leaned her head in close to me and gave me a mischievous smile. “The bar, here in the hotel.”
“I went to a bar last night. It didn’t end well. I almost killed some guy.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Was he cute?”
I felt a pang as I remembered, not for the first time in the last few hours, that I had broken up with Zack only this morning. And had kissed James last night. “Yes. He very much was.”
“Sounds worth it to me.” She looked me up and down. “You change and get ready, I’ll go knock on the other guy’s door and get him to watch the kids.” She turned and headed for the door.
“His name is Reed, you know.”
She waved a hand carelessly behind her as she walked out. “I’ve already forgotten it again.”
I stood there in the middle of the floor for about ten seconds, pondering my options. I could sit in my room, avoiding the horror that was drunkenness, the searing pain of a hangover and the loss of judgment that resulted from it, or stay here and stare at the walls. I had almost convinced myself that that was the wisest course, the soundest of ideas, when Zack wandered across my mind again, and I realized he’d be doing that for the rest of the night – just like he had been all day – and I’d have only the unconscious bodies of my two colleagues to keep me company.
There was a knock at the door, and when I looked through the peephole, it was Reed, looking a little cross.
“Your aunt just told me to get my ass over here and watch over two sleeping Directorate agents,” he said, nonplussed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I need to get out of here for a while,” I said. “We won’t be gone long.” I started toward the door, my bag on my shoulder, intending to go to my own room, which I hadn’t yet seen.
“What am I supposed to do if they wake up?” He looked at me in near astonishment, mouth slightly agape.
“If Kat wakes up first, explain the situation to her,” I said. “It’s not like you haven’t met before.”
“And if he wakes up first?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Get creative.”
I closed the door, which muffled his reply. I’m pretty sure it was a curse, and I’m equally sure I didn’t care. I went to my room and took a shower, a long one. When I was done, I dressed in a slightly looser suit, the most comfortable one I’d brought with me, straightened my hair and applied some makeup. When I came out of the bathroom, Charlie was waiting, lying on the bed, watching TV. She perked up when she saw me, and I stared at her, question on my face.
“They gave you a spare key,” she said. “I pocketed it when you handed me the packets. Figured I might need it later.” She smoothed her dress, which didn’t show even a sign of wrinkling, and smiled at me. “Ready to have some fun?”
“Sort of.”
“But not too much fun, because that’s probably against a Directorate rule of some kind.”
She dragged a little smile out of me with that one, and we were off. We crossed the lobby, an open air, ornate space with leather couches and decor that looked like it might be just as appropriate in a manor house as it was here. As we walked, I couldn’t help but notice heads turn to watch Charlie. Male heads. Lots of them.
We bellied up to the bar, and after I’d shown my ID, the bartender, a skinny guy this time, asked us what we wanted.
“What do you think, daahhhhhling?” Charlie said it with an exaggerated English accent, like she was a duchess or something.
Why break a winning tradition? I only knew one kind of drink, anyway. “Whiskey Sour.”
The bartender nodded and Charlie said, “Make it two.” He walked off.
“So,” I said. “What now?” I swiveled on my stool to take in the whole place. It was Sunday night, and there weren’t too many people around. There was a cluster of guys dressed professionally in the corner, ties loosened, sleeves rolled up, lots of laughing going on. I caught a furtive glance from a couple of them at Charlie, who, unlike me, was facing away from the bar and leaning back, her legs crossed and cool indifference beneath her slight smile.
“Now, my dear,” she said after a long pause, “we have fun.” The bartender set her glass at her elbow and she grabbed it, slow and smooth. “Keep ‘em coming.” She pressed it against her lips as she stared at the guys in the corner, taking a long, measured drink.
I picked up my whiskey and felt the chill of it in my hand, then took a sip. It still gave my mouth an involuntary spasm, but not as bad as the night before. I almost enjoyed it this time. It burned, though. I took another, and when I finished, I caught Charlie looking sidelong at me with amusement. “First time?” she asked.
“Second. I did this last night, too.”
“Ah.” She finished her drink and signaled to the barman. “It’s my second time, too.” Her eyes fixated on the guys in the corner. “Tell the bartender to send my d
rink over there.” She blinked, then looked at me as though she’d forgotten me somehow. “Actually, just come with me; he’ll figure it out.”
I looked over at the men she was talking about. Not a one of them was under thirty, and I doubted more than one of them was under forty. “I, uh...think they might be a little out of my age demographic.”
“Older men have their advantages. Experience, patience...” She grinned at me wickedly.
I stared back, and I felt the flush come to my cheeks. “How can you...I mean...you could kill someone.”
“Pffffft.” She waved her hand at me. “First of all, it takes a while for your touch to kill someone; you oughta know that. Second, you just have to be careful, making sure that things are as covered as you can get them...after that, it’s all about using strength and muscle control.” The bartender set another drink next to her and it was in her hand, then in front of her mouth, hiding her grin. “Just because you’re a soul-draining succubus doesn’t mean you have to live some kind of virginal life as a nun. I mean, even your mother didn’t buy into that idea, and she was the most stiff, serious—”
“Ah, okay.” I cringed, interrupting her. “I could have done with a little more exposition and a little less color commentary on that one.” I let my expression soften. “But thanks for the info. I was...struggling with some of that.”
She pulled the glass from in front of her mouth after taking a long drink. “That’s what I’m here for, niece: to teach you all the things that Mommy can’t.” She giggled. “That’s why I’m the coolest aunt. Now, how about we take your newfound knowledge over to the table in the corner and you can find out what I mean?”
I looked back at the guys she was indicating. I felt a reaction, a wave of no, no and hell no. “Um, no. There’s not one of them that’s my type.”
She shrugged, indifferent. “Suit yourself. Sit over here and be a black hole of excitement. In a place like this, you take what you can get. Sometimes it surprises you what you’ll find.” She stood, draining the last of her drink, and walked over to the table with the guys. When she was a few feet away, they all sat up and took notice of her, especially when she leaned over once she reached the table. I heard her tone, not her words, and it sounded conversational, almost confessional, like she was telling something to an old friend she hadn’t seen in a long time. One of them got up and dragged a chair over for her. She sat in it, giving him a smile and running a hand along his exposed forearm, eliciting a shiver from him.
I turned back to the bar and stared at my drink, wondering why I couldn’t do what Charlie could. I wasn’t that outgoing, that confident, that fearless. Sure, I didn’t have any interest in any of those guys because they were way too old for me, but even if they’d been a table full of guys my age, all hot, I still wouldn’t have had the guts to do what she did. I turned and watched the easy manner with which she wrapped them all around her finger, with a joke that had them all laughing, with a gentle caress on the back that left the man on the receiving end wanting more.
All I’d had thus far was Zack, and he wasn’t exactly wrapped around my finger. I mean, I’d pretty much driven him away because I was afraid I’d hurt him. Even the revelation that Charlie had given me, that there were ways we could be intimate without him getting hurt, sounded awfully risky (not to mention fairly devoid of any romance), maybe moreso to me because I wasn’t really sure how it all worked. I mean, I’d only ever kissed him for three to four seconds before I had to stop, and she was talking about protection and muscle control – it was bizarre and exciting and scary as hell all at once, but I didn’t know which feeling was heaviest.
Also, I’d let him go. I felt a twinge of guilt and pain, and took a drink to bury that feeling under the rush that the liquor granted, that heady sensation that would be making me drift oh-so-pleasantly in just a few more minutes. Of course the aftereffects would suck, but since when do teenagers worry about consequences? I took another drink, trying to banish that thought. Self-awareness was a curse, a terrible curse. The ice clinked in the bottom of my glass and I realized I had downed the whole thing without noticing.
I started to wave over the barman, but he was already coming with another. His face was almost gaunt, his eyes sunken when he set the Whiskey Sour in front of me. “Here you go,” he said.
“Okay, but after this I’m done.” I picked up the drink and took a swig.
“And your friend?” He nodded toward Charlie and I turned to see the whole table laughing again, every one of the men paying rapt attention to her, leaning over each other to tell her something, to catch her attention. I watched the way she twirled her hair, the way she laughed at them, smiled. “You gonna keep paying for her?”
I handed him my credit card, the personal one, not the one from the Directorate. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess she can probably convince those guys to buy her a round or two, but give her one more on my tab, then close it out.”
He smiled at me. “Done deal.”
I looked down at my drink, studying the amber liquid in my glass broken by the white of the ice cubes and the red of the maraschino cherry that floated on top. I pulled out the cherry and popped it into my mouth, leaving the stem on the napkin that held my drink. I took another long sip and thought again about Zack. Maybe I’d been hasty. Or maybe I’d been sane. I looked back at Charlie and wondered how she could be so cavalier, so quick with her touch when it could be so harmful, so deadly if she wasn’t careful.
“You’re prettier than her.” There was a voice at my elbow and I looked to see a familiar face. His hair was spiked, and his handsome features looked slightly more rugged tonight, though his shirt was still unbuttoned at the top. James smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Don’t doubt it for a second; she may have the attention of those geezers, but you’re the knockout in this bar.”
“James.” I said his name with a certain amusement that was probably fueled by the drinks that I was starting to feel the effects of. A little tinkle of suspicion was present too, far back in my mind. I think I might have let slip the barest hint of a smile as I looked back at him again.
“Sienna.” He dazzled me with his in return. It started slow, but got pretty powerful pretty quick. I ignored the flutter in my stomach. “Mind if I sit with you?”
I waved a hand vaguely at the stool. “Yesterday you’re in Owatonna, today you’re in Eau Claire. Are you following me?”
“Can I be honest?” He took off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of the seat before sitting down next to me.
“I’d prefer it, actually. What kind of a girl says, ‘No, please lie to me’?” The suspicious part of me was gaining traction.
“A surprising number, actually,” he said, keeping it cool. “Though usually not in so many words. Anyway, I’m here because of you.”
“Oh?” I took a sip, a very small one, and kept my hand ready in case I had to reach for a weapon. “I have a stalker?”
The bartender set a beer in front of him and he took a long pull. “Nah. I told you I was a recruiter, didn’t I?”
“Hmmm.” I thought about it. He probably had, but all I remembered was his lips. “I believe you did. So you’re here to recruit me?”
“If I can.” He had stopped paying attention to the beer.
“You recruit a lot of people away from the FBI?” I turned on my stool to face him, letting my arm rest on the side of the bar.
“No,” he said. “But I’ve recruited a few people away from the Directorate.” He kept his body facing toward the bar, but his eyes were on me.
I felt a chill, a little one, and I knew my eyes widened. “How did you find me here?”
He looked away. “Not the hardest thing to do. Go to a town where an Omega safehouse gets hit in the morning, go to all the hotel bars and look for the prettiest succubus around.” He looked back at me, and was smiling again.
“You are quite the charmer,” I said, vacillating between confusion and feeling f
lattered. “What will you do if I do say no to your offer?” My hand clenched tighter around my drink, and my breath caught in my chest.
“You haven’t heard it yet.” His smile took on an otherworldly quality, getting brighter. Or was that the alcohol? “Listen, this is just like Red Rover as a kid. You picked the wrong side and I’m just asking if Sienna can come over.”
I looked at him and cocked my head. “Red what?”
“Never mind,” he said with a shake of the head. “To answer your question: if you say no, I’ll learn to live with my deep, bitter disappointment and hope that you’ll still be okay with me trying to seduce you.” His smile grew wider, and I found for a flash that I wanted to slap it off him. But just for a second, because damn...he said it with a hell of a lot of charm.
I let go of the breath I had been holding and turned back to the bar, allowing myself just a sip of the whiskey. “You might not be glad if I go along with that. Don’t you know what a succubus does to a person?”
He chuckled dryly. “I do. I’m very familiar with it, in fact.”
I reached down and pulled off my gloves, slowly, as he watched, then took my drink in my hand and felt the perspiration of the glass mingle with my own and slide down my fingers as I pressed it to my lips and took another swig. “Then are you really sure you want to try that?” I set the glass back on the bar.
He moved fast, faster than I would have given him credit for, probably because I could feel the second whiskey already taking effect. His hand slid across and grabbed one of mine and I felt his skin against mine, slightly warm, mine a little sticky from the light layer of sweat that came from always wearing a glove. I didn’t pull away and he cradled my hand in his, bringing his other around, holding it.
“Please,” I said after a moment. I started to tug my hand away, but he held onto it, staring into my eyes. I started to count in my head, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he’d get weary and pass out. 1...2...
I pulled at it again and he didn’t surrender it, instead leaning closer to me. “It’ll be all right,” he said, bringing my hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. ...3...4...5...6...my eyes widened as he looked back up to me, cradling my hand in his. ...7...8...9...
“You should let go,” I said again, more urgently this time, but I didn’t pull away. ...10...11...12...
“I don’t want to,” he breathed, his face next to mine, the smell of his cologne mixed with the beer on his breath in a medley of strong and sweet, and he brought his lips to mine. ...13...14...15...16...17...18...I couldn’t remember what came next and it didn’t matter: there was just the smell of him, the taste of him...
He pulled away for just a second, looking me full in the eyes. “I’m like you...and you can’t hurt me. We...are made for each other, you and me.”
I took a breath, a word filling my mind with possibilities, with a legend I’d only heard of and never given much thought to; of a type of meta, my equal and opposite, the only one who could keep my powers at bay. I felt it in my head, in my heart, and on my lips, and it was beautiful; a breath of hope for someone who’d been hopeless for far too long.
“Incubus.”
The Girl in the Box Series, Books 1-3: Alone, Untouched and Soulless Page 69
