Danse Macabre ab-14

by Laurell K. Hamilton

He actually laughed, and it was just a laugh, not that touchable sound of Jean-Claude, or Asher, or Belle Morte. It was just a laugh. "Perhaps I am so old that I have forgotten how to simply talk."

  "Practice on me, ask your questions."

  "Is she waking from her long sleep?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "How do you know with such certainty?"

  "I've seen her in dreams, and in ..." I hesitated, searching for a word.

  "Vision," Asher supplied.

  "But that makes it seem like some beatific otherworldly shit, and it wasn't like that."

  "What was it like?" Merlin asked.

  "She sent a spirit cat once, an illusion. It sort of climbed up my body in the Jeep once. She smells of night, soft and tropical, jasmine, rain. She damn

  near suffocated me once with the taste of a rainy night. Belle Morte does it with the perfume of roses."

  "Do you equate their power with each other?" he asked.

  "Do you mean, are tliey similar in power?"

  "Yes."

  "No," I said.

  "How is it no?"

  "I've seen her rise above me in vision, or dream, or whatever the fuck it was, like a huge black ocean. I've seen her rise like living night, made into something real, and separate. As if night wasn't just the absence of light, but was something real, and alive. She is the reason that our ances­tors huddled around the fire at night. She's why we fear the dark. She's a fear in the very fiber of our beings, something going back to the lizard part of us. We don't fear her because we fear the dark; we fear the dark because of her."

  I shivered, suddenly cold. Asher took off his tuxedo jacket and laid it around my bare shoulders. It put Damian's hand against the back of my neck, under my hair, so he could keep contact. I didn't argue about it.

  "Then it is true," Merlin said, in a voice that held a sliver of fear, "she is waking."

  "Yes," I said, "she is." I took Asher's hand in mine. I needed the comfort.

  "Belle Morte believes it is her power that has raised the mother's servants."

  "That isn't it, and you know it," I said.

  "They wake, because she is waking," he said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Why is she so interested in a human servant?" Adonis asked, not rudely, but like he truly wanted to know.

  "I believe it is not die human servant who interests her, but the necro­mancer." He looked at me, and again I fought not to meet his eyes. I didn't think it was mind tricks, just habit. You look in someone's eyes. You just do. "Did you know, Ms. Blake, tliat it is on her orders tliat the necromancers of old were slaughtered?"

  "No," I said, "I didn't know that."

  "It was her orders that all with your gifts be killed before they could grow to such power."

  "I can sort of understand that."

  "Can you?"

  I nodded, and squeezed Asher's hand, and pressed Damian's hand closer to my skin. "I can roll a vampire's mind the way you guys roll us."

  "Can you, truly?"

  I realized that I'd said too much, overshared. "I am too tired to play games tonight, Merlin. When she mind-fucked us both tonight a well-meaning friend gave me a cross to hold."

  "Oh, dear," he said.

  I raised my left hand so he could see the new scar.

  "How did you heal it so quickly? A holy item heals slowly for us."

  I put my hand back on top of Damian's. "I'm not a vampire, Merlin, I'm a necromancer. It's just another kind of psychic gift. It doesn't make me evil."

  "And are we evil, merely because we are vampires?"

  The question was too hard for me with a vampire in each hand. "I'm too tired to debate philosophy with you. It took energy to heal this."

  "We felt you feed," Adonis said.

  I fought not to look at him again. "Yeah, I fed, but it wasn't enough. Deal­ing with Mommie Dearest takes a lot out of a girl."

  "It takes a great deal out of everyone," Merlin said.

  I wondered for the first time if the reason he hadn't done some major mind control after the mother left wasn't just to be polite, but because he was scared. Maybe he didn't have enough juice left. Maybe he, like me, was drained of energy.

  "She can feed off other vampires, just by touching their powers, can't she?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "She almost always comes to me after some other vampire has used major power on me. She used to follow Belle Morte's mind games. Tonight it was you that she followed. Does she feed off us when she does this?"

  "Sometimes," he said.

  "So she hasn't been asleep and not feeding for thousands of years. She's been like some kind of dark dream, feeding on energy, on power."

  "I believe so."

  "Why did she go to sleep in the first place?"

  "How should I know?"

  "Avoiding the question, aren't you?"

  He gave a small smile. "Perhaps."

  "Do you know why she went to sleep?"

  "Yes."

  "Will you tell me?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "Because it is not a story I wish to share."

  "I can't make you tell me, can I?"

  "You could try to see if you are necromancer enough to command me to tell you."

  I grinned. "My ego isn't that big."

  "More of the mother's servants have woken. Most of the council, like Belle Morte, believe it is their own growing powers tJiat have broken the ser­vants from their long sleeps."

  "Which council members don't believe it?"

  "Since I am forbidden to go near the council, how would I know that?"

  "The same way you know what Belle Morte thinks."

  He gave that smile again. I think it was his I'm-not-telling-you smile.

  "You need to feed again, Ms. Blake, as do I. The good motlier fed upon us both."

  "She's not good, and she was never your mother."

  He made that hand gesture again, die one tliat passed for a shrug. "She was mother to what I am now."

  I couldn't argue with that, so I didn't try. "You wanted to know if she's waking; she is. You say you wanted to know whether Jean-Claude was a power strong enough for you to call him master."

  "You do not believe that I seek a master?"

  "I believe that the only master you've ever acknowledged is lying in a room somewhere in Europe, haunting my dreams."

  He took a deep breatli, sighing. Vamps didn't need to breathe, only air enough to talk, but I'd found that most of them sigh, from time to time, as if it's a habit that even a few millennia can't break.

  Damian's hand tightened almost painfully on the back of my neck. I was being utterly calm; what was the deal? I started to look up at him, but I felt it. He let me feel it. I was sucking his energy. Taking back the energy I gave him to live. Shit.

  There was a knock on the door.

  Claudia looked at me. "See who it is," I said.

  She checked before opening the door, good bodyguard. It was Nathaniel. She opened the door for him. He came through widi his hair still back in its braid, but he'd lost his shirt and vest somewhere. His upper body gleamed with sweat, and the amethyst and diamond collar on his neck glittered as he glided into the room.

  "How did you lose your shirt?" I asked.

  "I got hot," he said, and grinned.

  "I'll say."

  He walked toward me still smiling, but there was worry around the edges

  of his eyes. A stranger wouldn't have seen it, but I'd spent months reading his face. He walked wide around the desk, so he'd be out of reach of Merlin. He'd learned to be a better person, and a worse victim, living with me. He came around, and put his hand on my arm, underneath Asher's jacket. Hav­ing them both touch me was as if someone had stuck an electric plug in my spine. It made me jump, but underneath the rush of power was the feeling that it was going just one way, into me. Shit. I was really, really going to have to get better at this energy thing.

  "You are very new at being the center of
this triumvirate of power," Mer­lin said, like he was certain of it, and like it was interesting to him.

  "Yeah, there's a learning curve."

  "There are ways to keep the good mother from feeding upon your energy."

  "I'm all ears," I said.

  He frowned at me.

  "I mean, I'd love to hear it." Sometimes I forgot that slang does not travel well, not across countries, or centuries.

  "A holy item hidden inside at least two layers of pillows will keep her it bay."

  "That sounds risky," I said, raising my newly marked hand. The move-nent made Damian move, almost a stumble. I felt Nathaniel reach for him, cnew when he had put an arm around the taller man's waist.

  "Even vampires can sleep thus, if they believe and they do not call their )wn power."

  I needed to feed, but I didn't want a mistake here. I bunked with too many empires to want a holy item going off at the wrong moment. "A vampire :an sleep with a holy item under his pillow?"

  "Yes, or underneath the bed, though pillow is better."

  "What happens if the holy item touches vampire flesh?"

  "Look at your own hand for that answer," he said.

  "Are you saying that the cross burned me because of my own power, not /lommie Dearest?"

  "You are a succubus, Ms. Blake; that has long been a power associated nth the demonic."

  "I've come up against demons. Vampirism is a contagion, not a demonic nything. It's a blood-borne disease. A doctor back in the 1900s sort of fig-red out how to cure it. You don't cure demonic possession with a blood •ansfusion."

  "Cured it?" Merlin said. "With a blood transfusion, truly?"

  "Well, yeah, but the vampirism is what keeps the dead body up and run­ning, so you take the vampirism out of the blood, and the body dies."

  "Ah, then not a cure that most would seek."

  I shook my head. "No."

  Damian leaned over and whispered against my cheek, "All interesting, but may I ask that you speed this up?"

  "The mother cannot break through your protection on her own, except in dream. But she can follow the attack of another vampire inside your de­fenses. You are correct on that. Fear of her was one of the reasons for the laws governing combat between masters. But she has been asleep for so long that we have forgotten caution."

  "Why does she need to follow someone else's attack?"

  "Because she is still a creature of nightmare and the lands of Morpheus."

  "She's still asleep, you mean?"

  "Yes, that is what I mean." He smiled.

  Damian's hand dug into my shoulder. I said, "I don't mean to be rude here, but I need to feed. So, if you'll excuse us."

  "Can't we watch?" Elisabetta asked.

  "No," I said.

  "Come, Elisabetta," Merlin said. He went out the door with her behind him. Adonis turned in the doorway, and stared at us all.

  "You don't get to watch either," I said. "This meeting is over."

  He started to say something, then seemed to think better of it. He finally shook his head, and left without another word. I'd learned more than he meant to tell, but less than there was to know. Somehow I knew I'd see him again. Just a feeling.

  Claudia went to the door. "I'll make sure no one interrupts." She closed the door behind her.

  I stood, and gently moved their hands off my shoulders. I took their hands in mine. "Nathaniel, take Damian to the workers' lounge or somewhere. Or find a table outside, I guess."

  "Why can't we watch?"

  I gave him a look, but he gave innocent, knowledgeable eyes. "It's been less than two hours, are you saying you'd go again?"

  He smiled.

  "I can't feed on you again this soon, Nathaniel, it's too dangerous. I don't know what the mother did to me, exactly, but I feel shaky. I don't know if I can guarantee that the ardeur won't spread through the room. Outside the door you'll be safe; inside, I don't know." I looked at Damian, who was cling-

  ing to Nathaniel's shoulders as if he'd fall down without the support. "If I fed on Damian right now, I think that would be bad."

  "Who will you feed from then?" Asher asked from where he stood near the wall.

  "If it's okay with you, you."

  "A man likes to be asked."

  I squeezed die others' hands, and said, "Nathaniel, Damian, go, please, and stay where someone can keep an eye on you, okay?"

  "I promise," Nathaniel said, and they started for the door.

  I turned to Asher. "Are you mad at me?"

  "No one likes to be taken for granted, Anita."

  "I don't take you for granted."

  "You do, and so does Jean-Claude."

  I didn't know what to say to that so I said that part out loud. "I don't know what to say to that."

  He shook his head. "We do not have time to tend my emotional wounds. Forgive me."

  The door closed behind us, Nathaniel and Damian were outside trying to find a place to wait while I fed enough to keep us all alive.

  I reached for Asher's hand. He took it, but he wouldn't look at me. What little of his face he gave was that perfect profile, witli the scars hidden be­hind die glory of his hair. I'd asked for sex and he was hiding from me. Not good.

  "What is wrong?" I asked.

  "Do you realize diat this will be the first time we have ever had sex alone together?"

  I started to argue witli him but stopped myself. I could remember his body so intimately. So many nights and afternoons of his body against mine. Had there always been someone else with us? Had we never had a moment that was just us, just ours?

  I touched his face, tried to get him to look at me, but he wouldn't do it. 'It's not just Jean-Claude that you haven't gotten enough personal attention from, is it?"

  He smiled then, but not like he was happy. "I spent centuries being de-iired by all that I touched, or wanted. Then I spent centuries being despised, idiculed. Sex was a mercy or done as a torment to the ones Belle wished to mnish."

  I tried to hug him, and he kept me away, just holding my hand while he alked. I said the only thing I could think to say. "I'm sorry."

  He finally looked at me with the perfect side of his face. He let me see the drowning beauty that had made people give up their fortunes, their honor, their virtue, for but one more night staring into this face. "Ibu have healed some of my hurts. Being with you and Jean-Claude. I thought it would be enough."

  I slid my hand underneath his hair, so I could touch the scarred side of his face. I cupped that which he hid, while I stared up into the face he let me see. "But you don't get enough attention from either of us."

  "It sounds childish when you say it out loud, but it does not feel childish inside here." He touched his chest. "It feels like I am starving to death in the midst of a feast. But it is a feast that I share with too many. Neither of you watches only me. There is always someone else more beautiful, more desirable."

  "There is no one more beautiful than you, Asher."

  He jerked back, and exposed the scars on his face. "How can you say that to me?"

  "What do you want me to say?"

  "I want to be the center of someone's life again, Anita. Jean-Claude's cen­ter is you. Yours is beginning to be Nathaniel and Micah." He grabbed my arms and closed his eyes tight. "I am no one's darling, and I cannot bear it." He laughed, but when he opened his eyes there was a shine of unshed tears. "How stupid and childish. How selfish."

  "It's not about being with men, or women, is it?" I said, "It's because none of the men I'm picking will ever put you at the center of their world."

  "I want to be loved, Anita, as I once was."

  "Julianna," I said, softly.

  He nodded. "Once it was Jean-Claude, but he could never truly love an­other man the way he loves a woman. Belle's tastes and demands sent many of us to the arms of other men, but Jean-Claude could never be content with just men in his bed. He is a lover of women above all else."

  "And you?" I asked, because he seemed to want me t
o ask.

  "I think if it were the right man, I could be in love, and content, but I think the same of a woman. It is love I seek, Anita, not the package around it. I have always been needier of attention than Jean-Claude. I sought a woman for my human servant when I realized that Jean-Claude would never be content with just men, with just me."

  I didn't know what to say to the pain in his voice. An emotional burden he'd carried for two or three hundred years, and I was supposed to fix it, or at least make it better, how? How was I going to do that?

  I felt Damian reach out for me. It made me stagger against Asher. He had to catch me. "I'm draining Damian."

  "Then I must stop being an enfant terrible, and let you feed."

  "I do want you, Asher. I do love you. But right now, I don't have time to..."

  "To heal my wounds," he finished for me.

  "To make love to you the way I want to."

  He gave me a look, like he didn't believe me.

  "We have to feed and get back to the party, but you are not just emer­gency food to me. You are not just someone I share with Jean-Claude. You are special to me, Asher, you, just you. I don't have time to make you believe me tonight, but I'll try to do better later."

  He drew me in against his body, held me close, whispered into my hair, "Later you will have to feed upon someone else, for I will have had my turn."

  I drew back enough to see his face, and said, "Remember one thing, that I didn't make love to you that first time because I had to feed the ardeur. I made love to you because I wanted to, because Jean-Claude and I wanted to."

  "You did it to protect me from Belle Morte's agents."

  "Yeah, we did it so that Belle couldn't call you home, so you'd belong to us by her rules, but you're still the only new man in my life that I had sex with because I wanted to take care of you, not because you were food."

  "Take care of me?"

  I nodded. "It's what you do when you love someone."

  He smiled then, and it was that rare smile. The smile that made him look terribly young, and not at all like himself, as if that smile was all that was left of what he might have been centuries ago. "You can't possibly love all the men in your life, Anita."

  "No," I agreed, "but I love you. I love Jean-Claude."

  "And Micah, and Nathaniel," he said.

  I nodded.

  "And London, and Requiem," he said.