Danse Macabre ab-14

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  I let go of his hand, and stood up.

  "What's wrong?" Claudia asked.

  "Her beast is trying to rise again," Richard said from the floor.

  I nodded, and stepped farther away from Richard, and kept moving. I wanted distance between me and Haven. This didn't feel like the way I'd bonded to Nathaniel. This instant attraction to Haven felt like ... I turned and found Micah standing there, closer dian I'd realized. He hadn't wanted to interfere with me and Richard. I could feel my eyes widening. I reached out to him, and the wolf and lion quieted. Leopard stirred, and the movement almost doubled me over. Micah caught me, helped me stand up straight. But the leopard liked him too much, and I had to push him away from me. I stumbled, and Jean-Claude was there to catch me. I clung to him, burying my face against his chest, drawing in the scent of clean silk and him. I actu­ally ripped his shirt open, so I could put my face directly against his skin. I drew in the sweet, clean, scent of him, as if he were air, and I'd been suffo­cating. His cologne was sweet, and always smelled as expensive as it was, but it was the scent of his skin underneath it, mixing with the cologne, that I needed. It helped clear my head, helped me ease the beasts back to sleep.

  I rubbed my face along the smooth outline of his cross-shaped burn scar. Jean-Claude didn't see the scar as an imperfection, and neither did I. It was something extra to play with when I kissed his chest.

  His arms held me tight, and he whispered, "I felt your fear flare to life, ma petite. What has happened?"

  I spoke with my face still buried against his chest. "I'm trying not to make Haven my animal to call."

  Jean-Claude stroked my hair, trying to soothe me, like a child who's woken from a bad dream, but this bad dream wasn't going to end with me waking up. It wasn't going to be all right.

  "You are drawn to Haven, and he to you, ma petite. You have broken his link to Augustine."

  I nodded my forehead against his chest. "Yeah, but he's not Auggie's ani­mal to call, he's just one of his lions."

  I felt Jean-Claude look behind him.

  "That's right," and that was Auggie. He'd come to stand near us. "He's bound to me, but not as an animal to call."

  I nodded again, my face still buried against Jean-Claude. I didn't want to see Auggie's naked chest. I didn't want to be distracted by yet another meta­physical problem; one at a time was plenty. "What did I do with the leopards before I got an animal to call, Jean-Claude?"

  "I do not understand, ma petite, what..." Then he went very still. He was

  still holding me. I was still clinging to him, breathing in the scent of his skin, but his heart had stopped beating, his breathing stilled. He was doing that be very still that the old vampires could do, but this time I was pressed against him while he did it. I'd never been this close to him when he went this still. Until it stopped, I hadn't even been aware his heart was beating. It made me look up at him. Made me meet that beautiful, flawless face, and see it look unreal, masklike, as he stared, not at me, but behind me.

  I turned and looked where he was looking. Micah stood there, staring at us. The look on his face was enough; he'd had the same awful thought I'd had.

  I licked my lips and whispered, "Do the lions have a name for their queen?"

  He said it out loud. "I felt it, when you saw him coming down the hall­way. He won't be your animal to call. He'll be Rex to your Regina."

  39

  RICHARD ENDED UP back in Jason's room. Dr. Lillian pumped him full of painkillers, so he'd sleep and heal. I had to promise him guards I trusted at his door to make sure none of our "guests" visited him while he was drugged and helpless. Seemed like a reasonable request to me. In fact it was so prac­tical that it gave me hope that he was finally beginning to realize that life wasn't a Boy Scout jamboree.

  Lillian said if Richard had been human, he'd have been on his way to the emergency room, and on crutches for weeks afterward. But he wasn't human and two hours of sleep would heal a lot of the damage. Why not try to heal him with metaphysics? Because Richard had never let me heal him with magic. It was his choice, and I was okay with it. He'd done so much right in the last hour that I'd cut him slack. Acres of slack.

  Haven was unconscious in the guest room he'd started the day in, with additional guards. He wouldn't be going anywhere for at least forty-eight hours, so said the doc. Fine with me; out of sight was just dandy for the Cookie Monster and me.

  I'd started to get upset again, like pace-the-room upset, but Jean-Claude had touched me, and Auggie had joined him. I ended up on the couch cud­dled between them and feeling strangely calm. "You've rolled my mind, haven't you?"

  "You have the ability to keep me out, ma petite. Merely decide to push me out, and I will be forced to go. I think you need the calm."

  I couldn't argue with that. I turned with my head in Jean-Claude's lap, and looked at Auggie, who had my legs across his lap. "But he's helping you."

  "A very little bit," Auggie said, and did that face that was supposed to be humble, but never made it.

  "You should really stop trying for the humble head dunk thing," I said, "it doesn't work for you."

  He gave me wide eyes—innocent, I think he was going for. He didn't pull that off either. "Are you saying I am not humble?" He grinned, spoiling any

  attempt at innocence. That smile said he was thinking nefarious things—fun things, but nefarious nonetheless.

  "You wouldn't know humble if it bit you on the ass."

  He laughed, mouth wide, flashing fangs. If you hadn't seen the fangs you'd have said it was a very human laugh. Jean-Claude had once explained to me that vampires learn to control their faces, voices, every reaction, to hide from their masters. Because any strong emotion can be used against you. After a few centuries you could lose the knack of true laughter, of smiling just be­cause you were happy, not because you thought it would get you something. Facial expressions for die very old vamps become more like flirting: some­thing you do on purpose, for a purpose. Auggie just seemed to laugh.

  I raised my head so I could look at Jean-Claude's face. I asked, "Is that real, that laugh, or is it part of Auggie's game plan?"

  "Ask him, ma petite.''''

  I looked at die other vampire. "Well?" I said.

  "Well, what?" he asked.

  "Is the laugh real, or a performance?"

  He shrugged those massive shoulders, sending the black shawl sliding down a little lower. At the rate it was slipping, he'd be naked from the waist up again. I wasn't sure if I wanted the shawl to fall faster, or make him tuck it back over himself. Seeing him nude sounded good, and the wanting of it made me not want it at all. Crazy, I know, but true. I seldom trusted any­thing that I wanted too badly.

  I smelled vanilla, warm vanilla. Nathaniel was coming. I heard bare feet running, and the next moment he was airborne above me. He caught him­self with hands and toes on die couch, just before he would have landed on me. He'd done it before, but it always starded me, and made me make that girly eep sound. I hated that I even had that sound inside me somewhere. Nathaniel laughed, his face alight with it. I tried to be grumpy about him startling me, but failed. The grumpiness rolled away under the delight of being this close to him, and the soothing touch of vampire.

  "Not pregnant," he said.

  I shook my head, and laughed, too. Suddenly, I remembered how glori­ously relieved I had been. He brought back the rush of joy that I'd had be­fore Haven misbehaved.

  Nathaniel let his body fall those few inches, so he pressed his weight against me. He kissed me, and I kissed him back. My hands slid over the muscled heat of his skin, and the silken warmth of his hair, unbound and sliding over us all. His body started to react to the closeness, and the kiss grew.

  "If they actually have sex on our laps, do we get to join in?" Auggie asked.

  I drew back from the kiss, and Nathaniel stopped, but he didn't move. I had to actually move some of the thick auburn hair to one side so I could see Auggie's face. "No," I said.

 
"Then I am at a loss as to where to put my hands."

  I gazed past Nathaniel's shoulder to realize that the most natural resting place for Auggie's hands was probably Nathaniel's ass, where it peeked from between the fall of his own hair.

  Auggie lifted a strand of that hair. "I have not seen hair like this for a cen­tury." He rubbed the hair along his cheek. "It brings back memories, though the body would be female." He gazed down at Nathaniel. "It's the longest hair I've ever seen on a man."

  I didn't like the way he was looking at Nathaniel, not that we could really blame him. It wasn't Auggie who had jumped naked into our laps. I pushed at Nathaniel's chest. "Move, okay?"

  He gave me a look that managed to be both innocent, and not, then he rolled to the floor. Yeah, he'd wanted to surprise me, but he was an exhi­bitionist, and loved to flirt. It didn't mean he wanted sex, just that he en­joyed the way people reacted to his body. Or at least that's what Micah and I thought. It was entirely possible that Nathaniel didn't know why he did it.

  Micah came up behind the couch. "Your leopard didn't try to rise when Nathaniel touched you," Micah said from behind the couch.

  "No, it didn't." I looked at him, and found that Jean-Claude's hair blocked my view. Micah moved so he was standing more between the two vampires, so I didn't have to strain.

  "You touched a lot less of me, and it did rise."

  "Try again," I said, and held out my hand to him.

  He hesitated, as if he were a little afraid of what might happen, but he took my hand. I waited for my beast to rise, but it didn't. It was just Micah's hand in mine. I squeezed his hand, and gave him a smile. Some tension in him eased, as if he'd been holding his breath about something. He still seemed so serious, almost sad. Was he jealous? Was the man who shared me best suddenly jealous? There was no anxiety with the thought, it was just a thought. Jean-Claude's power let it just be a thought, without emotional baggage attached to it. Was this how well-adjusted people reasoned? If so, damn it was peaceful. I wanted to reassure him and take that worry from his eyes. There was no thought to it, no reasoning. I wanted to reassure Micah, so I sat up, and used our clasped hands to draw him downward. We kissed, but he pulled back from it. Those chartreuse eyes still held a shadow of

  worry. I wanted that shadow gone. I wanted him to know how much he meant to me.

  I used both hands to drag him half over the couch back, and give him the kiss he deserved. I licked, kissed, ate, at his mouth, as if the taste of him were a drug, and I needed a fix. He fell into that kiss, and spilled over the couch, on top of me, and into everyone's laps. He rose from the kiss, laughing, the worry erased from his eyes. We ended up laughing together in a big pile. Not just Micah and me, but Nathaniel, and Auggie with his big, fang-flashing laugh. Jean-Claude's laughter spilled over us all, like something thick and sweet that you should be able to lick off your skin. The sensation of it made me catch my breath. Micah shivered above me. Nathaniel's hand grabbed my arm, and Micah's, his fingers convulsing against our skin. Auggie's hand tightened almost painfully on my leg. I couldn't see him past Micah's body, but I could feel his body reacting to that touchable laugh.

  It wasn't just Auggie's body that reacted. His power flared from his hand, and the warmth of his lap, through the silk jammies, and my jeans. I felt his body like heat through the cloth. That heat found the ardeur curled inside my body. Auggie called it, and like a well-trained dog, it followed his power.

  Micah whispered, "Oh, God." I think he would have rolled off and fled for safety, but Nathaniel's arm tightened on us both, and Auggie's other hand pressed into his back. He wasn't trapped, but with the ardeur, willpower is so hard to come by that small things can tip the balance.

  Jean-Claude's power pulsed to life against me, but it wasn't his ardeur that rose. The cool power of the grave spread out from his body like cool, sooth­ing water to quench the heat that Auggie had awakened. Jean-Claude's power spilled through me, over me, and spread. It spread to Micah, so that his eyes lost their panic. Nathaniel's hands began to relax in their desperate hold on our bodies. Auggie's breath came out in a long, shaking sigh.

  "That was very bad of you, Augustine," Jean-Claude said in a voice that was thicker than normal with his French accent. Which meant he'd had to work harder at stopping the ardeur than that easy flow of power had led us to believe.

  Micah half-collapsed on top of me, his head burying against my shoulder, so that I could suddenly see Auggie's grinning face. He was totally unrepen­tant. "Jean-Claude, can you truly blame me with all this bounty writhing on my lap?" He slapped Micah's ass.

  Micah rolled off the couch, and took me with him, because I let him. We ended on the floor close to Nathaniel. Micah and I stood, drawing Nathaniel to his feet. We moved back from the couch, so the three of us faced the vam­pires, faces no longer friendly. I'd shut both vampires out of my head, be-

  cause I wasn't sure how to shut Auggie out without shutting Jean-Claude off, too. I just didn't have the finer points of metaphysics down yet.

  "I may not blame you, but they will," Jean-Claude said, and he sounded almost satisfied. I got just a flash of why: he was pleased that Auggie was falling into the same traps that once had been his own downfall. Then he shut the link between us, shut it tight, as if he didn't want me to know what else he was flunking. Fine with me; I had my own reasons for not wanting to share.

  There had been a second, just a second, when the ardeur rising while all four of them were touching me hadn't seemed like a bad idea. Micah, Nathaniel, and Jean-Claude were one thing, but Auggie had rolled me. Yeah, I was in love with him, too, but it was because of vampire wiles. Auggie had trapped me into love, and that should be punished, not rewarded. Richard would probably say that I was pretty good at punishing true love, so love by deceit should carry a higher penalty, shouldn't it?

  "I don't know you," Micah said, "and you don't get to touch me."

  Auggie spread his hands wide, and made a how-was-I-to-know gesture. "My deepest apologies, but if people keep falling into my lap, I'm allowed to take a little advantage."

  "No," I said, "you're not."

  He narrowed tliose charcoal-gray eyes at me. "I love you, Anita. Do you love me?"

  I almost said no, but knew he'd smell the lie. I shrugged. "Yeah, thanks to your power, yeah, I do." I shrugged again. "But what has that got to do with anything?"

  "Most women who love me don't act this angry. Most women in love are generous to their lovers."

  "In sex, I'm generous; everything else, you gotta work for it."

  Auggie looked at Jean-Claude. "She tastes of the truth."

  Jean-Claude nodded. "Mapetite is a demanding lover in every way."

  "Usually when a man says a woman is a demanding lover, it's a good thing, but somehow I don't think that's what you mean," Auggie said.

  Jean-Claude gave me a smile, that smile that was only for me, and some­times for Asher. The smile said he loved me, and I had to smile back. I felt my face soften, and the anger fade. I wasn't angry at Jean-Claude. I had fi­nally gotten better at not spreading my anger over everyone. "Ma petite and I have labored long together to form the love that you have gained by sub­terfuge." He turned and looked at Auggie. "I was your friend, but you have used your arts to make me feel for you what you have not earned. But I, like ma petite, know how to love and not be a prisoner to that love. You can win,

  or steal, our love, but you cannot steal a true relationship with us; that must be won." He turned, and curled his long legs up on the couch. He put his arm across the back of the couch, not quite touching the other man's bare shoulder. He cradled his head on his outstretched arm, letting all those black curls spill along the white of the couch. I couldn't see his face, but I knew the look. It was a charming, seductive look, his teasing look, when he really didn't expect anything to happen. He just wanted to remind you how scrumptious he was. He usually used the look only when he was mad, or I was. It was a look to either end a fight, or begin one.

  Aug
gie looked at him, and the look was pained. He saw Jean-Claude, un­derstood the potential in that body, and knew now that having had it once didn't mean you'd get it again. Jean-Claude played hard to get when he thought it would gain him an advantage. The look on Auggie's face said it was a really big advantage right now.

  If it was real love, true love, then shouldn't it have made me feel bad to see Auggie wanting, hurting with doubt? Maybe, but it didn't. It made me happy, in that small, petty, vindictive way that always promises a really bad relationship. There are different kinds of love, I'd learned that—not less real, or more real, just different. Maybe what Auggie could cause a person to feel wasn't true love, after all. Maybe it was that kind of love that seems to come quick, and leave slow, but in the middle it's just fights, and pain, punc­tuated by great sex, until one of you has the courage to end it, and walk away.

  Auggie turned that pained expression my way. "You would both turn me down." He sounded genuinely surprised. He glanced back at Jean-Claude. "I understand Jean-Claude, he's maneuvering for power, though my pride is hurt. I must not be as good with other men as I thought I was."

  Jean-Claude answered with his head still poised on his arm. "If I feed your ego now, then I may lose the advantage I have gained."

  Auggie nodded. "I understand that." He looked at me. "But her, I don't get her. I know I'm good with women. Hell, I'm an amazing lover."

  I laughed, I couldn't help it.

  He gave me a dirty look. "Do you disagree?"

  I shook my head. "No, you're great." I didn't sound like I meant it, but I did. "Maybe I just like my men a little more modest, that's all."

  He stabbed a thumb at Jean-Claude. "If he's ever been modest about his prowess in bed, it was false modesty."

  "Why, thank you," Jean-Claude said.

  Auggie shook his head. "That's not what I meant."