by K. A. M'Lady
When he sat back on his knees and pulled me up into his lap, wrapping my legs around him, he moved so quickly that my breath caught in the blur of the movement. He then held me by the waist and pulled me up and down on his shaft, impaling me on the thick length of him, and I thought I wanted to die. Or at least be woken up like this more often. Kieran was a very lucky man.
I tilted my head back and he kissed my neck, licking a line down my pulse. It was the same place where Kieran had bitten me last night and as the memory stirred in my belly, my whole body shuddered. And then he bit me. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make my orgasm erupt through my body. His release followed closely on its heels as he gripped my waist, threw his head back and roared.
We dozed for some time after; me dreaming of Kieran, his body warm above me as he kissed a path of fire all over my body. His lips had just reached my throat when the sound of wings stirred my consciousness. I woke up to buzzing around my head and an annoying flickering light. Absently I swatted outward and was rewarded with a shriek.
“Hey! Stupid damned Pixie. Cut the shit!” The squeaky little voice sounded more like a munchkin in the Wizard of Oz than that of a seven-hundred-year-old Sprite.
I pried an eye open and watched as the flickering light tumbled through the air, smacked the dresser mirror and slid downward. It landed in a heap on top of a pile of CDs, thrown clothes and a gun sheath for a 9mm Beretta.
“Flec!” I yelled as I sat up, pulling the sheet with me. I didn’t know whether to be grateful, worried, or pissed. I mean, it was a good dream.
“What’s wrong?” Dragon said jumping out of the bed as he reached for a sword. I had no idea where the sword came from, but it was good to know he was armed.
Flec sat in the pile of rubble on my dresser and stared, mouth hung open at the naked Wereleopard brandishing his sword in the middle of my bedroom.
“Close your mouth, Flec, you’re gathering flies,” I said as I reached for my robe, thrown on the chair next to my bed. It was red and silk, and I’m sure I looked like a damned Christmas present, but I really didn’t care. It made me feel good.
“What the hell is that?” Dragon asked, pointing at the glowing little orb of light with his sword.
“Relax, Dragon. And put that sword away,” I said as I walked towards the dresser. I stood in front of Flec, blocking her view of Dragon. “And you may want to put some clothes on.”
“Don’t get dressed on my account,” Flec said as she stood up on the pile of CDs. She shook out her body as though to shake off the crash landing, her neon glow banana-yellow hair glistening in the afternoon light as it flowed in waves down her back.
I always expected wings to sprout out of her and shimmer in the radiance of her being. But she wasn’t a fairy. She flew of her own power and needed no wings. It was a different kind of Other World magic.
“That is a Sprite. Felicity Bloomgarden, to be exact,” I said to Dragon as I reached for the hairbrush on my nightstand. I plopped on my bed when I heard him zip up and started brushing out my hair. “Flec, meet Dragon.”
“So the rumors are true, then?” she said as she rose off the dresser and hovered near my head.
“What exactly are you babbling about now, Flec?” I loved Flec, I really did, but there were times that she really didn’t make any sense. She always just popped in and out of my day and dropped all kinds of oddball questions--mostly strange comments and useless information. Then, like a wandering dandelion wisp, she was gone with the breeze and I was usually left wondering: “What the hell was that all about?”
“Great Mother and the Prophet Rihker! Don’t you ever listen to anything I tell you?” she screeched. Apparently I didn’t, because I just stared at her, dumbfounded. She actually smacked her forehead, mumbled something under her breath and let it out in a huff.
“The prophecy says--And she will take a beast to her bosom. A beast, Rihker!”
“Oh, for cripes sake, Flec, stop being so melodramatic.” I stopped brushing my hair and pulled Dragon down by his arm to sit on the bed next to me.
“What the hell is the little creature babbling about?” He leaned forward to get a better look at Flec, his back stretched out in front of me, long and lean. I knew he was a Wereleopard, but his coloring made no sense to me; the light hair and the brown eyes. Despite the fact that it was fetching, I really thought he should have darker hair.
Without realizing it, my hand had found its way to the length of his long blonde hair. I ran my fingers through the tawny strands, amazed at the softness. “Why isn’t your hair darker?” I asked.
Flec stopped bobbing, and Dragon turned those dark brown eyes towards me, a reserved look crossing his face. “What do you mean?’
“I thought your hair would be darker--like closer to a real leopard? That is what you are, isn’t it?” I looked at him expectantly, eyes round, face blank.
“And how is it that you know what kind of creature I am? I have not offered this information to you. Nor have you seen me fully change.” The look on his face was partial intrigue mixed with a dash of concern.
I had no idea how I knew what he was. I just looked at him and knew. It was the same with every creature I’d ever met. And now that I’d really thought about it--how the hell did I know…?
I considered him with a measured look for a moment, chewed my bottom lip as I considered what to say. Considered how I knew. Then I got up and left my bedroom.
“Gimlit!” I yelled for my Ogre as I wandered down the hallway into my living room. The sight that met me was completely unexpected, although I’m not sure why. What else did I expect Gimlit to do with the remaining Werewolves I’d brought home with me?
They were curled up on my plush purple sectional couch, all three of them, like a band of little puppies. It was rather cute, actually. Until one of them moved and the comforter that was covering them moved with him, revealing a whole lot of flesh and not a stitch of clothes to go around. Then it became something to just make my heart rate thud.
Apparently we’d kept three wolves with us, and the two Werepanthers. They were in my guest room. The Vampire Marcus, the pirate, as well as a female that I didn’t even remember meeting along with Kieran, were tucked away in my crypt downstairs.
Gimlit began to enlighten me on the sleeping arrangements as he shoved a cup of black coffee in my hand and led me to the kitchen. Of course, that was after a good three minutes of standing in the middle of my living room with my mouth hung open, staring at the yumminess stretched out on my sofa.
Imagine, if you can, three identical males with highly sculpted, darkly tanned bodies curled together in a ball of contentedness. Long blonde hair that had to have hung to their waists entwined in a mass of golden fluff that was screaming, Come join us! Lose your hands in us! Run your hands all over the warmth of our flesh!
Or maybe that was just me.
“Okay, Gim. Spill it. What the hell happened after I got home?” I said, taking a deep satisfying drink of the warm, dark liquid into me. Call me crazy, but there’s something about coffee that makes dealing with life a whole lot easier.
“You do not remember, mistress?” There was a sense of concern marring Gimlit’s face. And for the first time that I could recall, he took that seven-foot frame and curled it into a chair next to me rather than standing at my side.
“Well,” I said as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to bolster my thoughts of the most recent events. “I remember a few amazing things that I’m not going to discuss with you. And a whole lot of nothing else.”
“Do you recall something specific that Kieran did to heal you, mistress?” The way Gimlit looked at me, at my neck, made me reach my fingers up to it as images flashed through my mind.
“Damn it! He fucking bit me again!” I yelled as I rose from the chair, knocking it to the floor.
Gimlit reached across the table and grabbed my arm before I could run off and do something destructive. Like ram a stake through Kieran’s ch
est. I was not a bloody fucking snack!
“How do you feel, mistress?” I could feel Gimlit’s large hand encircle my wrist, his thumb caressing my pulse as my anger started to dissipate.
“I’m fucking pissed.” I scowled at him. “And how could you let him bite me?” I growled, pulling my arm free of him as I reached down and set my chair to rites.
“It was necessary. You were wounded gravely, and even my healing would not have been enough to heal you in the time needed.” His calm demeanor was rolling around me in waves, and I could feel myself settling into a tranquil state of acceptance. Only I did not want to accept this.
I did not want his peacefulness to envelop me. I wanted to wrap myself in my anger and warm myself by its blaze.
“Do you have any idea what this means, Gim? You have given him more power over me,” I said, glaring at him as I crossed my arms beneath my chest.
“You are a child of the earth, Rihker. Possessed of both the Light and the Darkness. Only those you wish to have power over you will do so,” he said reasonably. The tenor of his voice was not condescending or scolding. Just truthful.
I watched the knowledge of time flow past his dark turquoise eyes. His round face with its sleek nose, his large, wide forehead and stubby chin was even calm. There seemed to be a certain truth to his words. I could do nothing more than believe in his certainty.
“All right, Gim, but if his Wereleopard ends up biting me in the ass as well, you and I are going to have serious problems,” I said.
He merely nodded his acceptance.
“And that’s another thing. How is it I know what Kieran’s servant is? In fact, how is it that I know what most any creature is?”
“What do you mean?” He looked at me, head cocked, eyes interested.
“I met Kieran’s enforcer last night, Mercy--little evil bitch. And somehow, before she even spoke to me, I knew what she was. What flavor of creature she was. I could literally almost taste her essence rolling around inside me. It was the same with Dragon. It’s like their being; their aura is pulsing beneath my flesh, telling me what their nature is.”
I gripped my coffee cup tight as I watched Gimlit process what I’d told him. I’d never told anyone this, let alone admitted it out loud. But that was exactly what it felt like when I met creatures of the Other World. Their beings pulsed against me. I could almost taste them, like a Lifesaver. If I picked them out of a wrapper with my eyes closed, tasted them, and pulled the candy out of my mouth I could say “Ooh, pineapple-orange.” I just seemed to know what they were. It seemed to bother Dragon that I knew what he was without him telling me.
“How long has this been happening?” Gimlit asked as he considered me with hooded eyes.
I shrugged, “I don’t know. I guess I just recently thought about it. But I think it’s been going on for some time.”
“I think it is time for you to see the Wanderling,” he said his voice soft, his eyes unfocused like he’d gone somewhere that I’d never been and probably didn’t want to ever see.
“What the hell is the Wanderling?” My voice was laced with concern and a little bit of annoyance. Now what the hell was I getting into? Vampire politics, homicides, feeling creatures’ beings? Cripes, did I need anything else piled onto my plate? I had a feeling that this week was just really beginning to suck.
“Rihker’s going to see the Wanderling?” Flec’s voice rang in my ear as she buzzed around my head. I turned and saw her little glowing body leading Dragon into the kitchen.
“Are you sure that is a good idea?” Dragon asked, his deep, rich voice laced with concern. He was dressed in his cut-off shorts again and nothing else, his tanned skin glowing warmly in the light of my sunny kitchen.
“How the hell do you two know what the Wanderling is? And why haven’t I ever heard of it?” I asked everyone now crowding my round breakfast table.
“I believe it is time,” Gimlit said cryptically, his voice filling the room with an ominous tone that made my skin crawl.
When the phone rang, I jumped and coffee sloshed all over the front of my robe, spilling onto the table. “Bloody hell!” I swore, reaching for some napkins to wipe up my mess.
Gimlit rose and answered the phone on the fourth ring. “Good afternoon, Inspector Cage,” he said politely. “Yes, she’s right here.”
Yes, this week was definitely going to be shit.
Every wretchedness and shortcoming,
The faltering that has you in its clutch,
These make up the world that you reserve
In all of its abasement.
From The Inkishafi by Sayyid Abdalla Bin Ali Bin Nasir
Translated from the Swahili by D.H. Tracy
Chapter Fourteen
The path down to the bat caves was marred with years of pockmarks and pitted ruts. Despite the well-worn path, the gravel was still loose beneath my boots and the overgrown brush made a good attempt to hide the empty broken beer bottles, rain-stained cigarette packs and various sundry bits of garbage--windblown plastic grocery bags and empty fast food wrappers hidden throughout the bramble.
I wasn’t sure why the local kids called it the bat caves, there hadn’t been any bats seen in this area in quite some time. Too many vagrants wandering around at all hours stirring up the air with their noise and nonsense, I guess.
Finding a body down along the tracks wouldn’t have really surprised me, though. It was a good place for all kinds of bad things to happen; plenty of darkness and cover for all sorts of wretched things to occur. Finding a ritual slaying left clearly marked for anyone to stumble on--now, that was just plain stupid.
Why the hell would someone leave it so that the cops would find it? That was the mystery? I guess that’s why Cage had called me. He wanted to know what kind of monster did the killing.
Apparently just because I was Other, he assumed that I knew what all the monsters were. Sight unseen. Yeah, let me pull this fucking rabbit out of my hat.
I slid down the edge of the hill, my hands towards the ground for balance, knees bent, back arched backwards to try to keep from wiping out. My boots kept catching on the gravel as I tried to keep my balance. I was amazed no one had gone over the edge and just kept going. Down at the bottom led to the train tracks. And beyond that, the river.
The stench of dead fish lying in a July Midwest haze was such a wonderful smell. I wanted to gag as the humidity wrapped around me and the acrid smell of death permeated the air. You could almost feel it, like a viable, touchable thing, waiting for you, to jump out and rub up against you, something you could sink your fingers into. Knowing that you’ll cringe the moment they brush up against the slime.
I stood up when I reached the bottom, and I could see the tracks and the gray murky sludge of the river beyond. The Rock was a cool, flowing whirl of undertows and sandy muck. Should be nice and pleasant this time of year, if you’re a flat head catfish…or a drowning victim. I was lucky enough, or unlucky, depending on what kind of mood Cage was in, to have Dragon with me. He insisted on following me on this expedition. Insisting that he not leave my side. Some lame-ass shit about how Kieran would expect him to watch over me.
Whatever. I now had a guard dog. Or would that be cat? Either way, Cage was just going to love this. Probably about as much as the cop at the top of the perimeter had loved it when we arrived. His attempt at steely eyes as he tried to dissuade me from bringing my companion trampling through the crime scene obviously didn’t work. Let’s just say the eyes lacked the mettle--or metal--to persuade me. He told me it was my ass.
It usually was.
The scene was roped off and swarming with crime-scene techs. Not to mention an array of colorful uniforms. I had clipped my ID to my tank top when we got out of my truck, and I made sure it was still attached as I wandered up to the nearest uniform.
Granted, the ID was a little old and the most credentials it offered was Hunter and the Silent Court emblem, but Officer Tall, Mean and Bordering on Neo-otherworld Fascist about h
ad a stroke when I requested to speak to Inspector Cage.
“Look, woman. I don’t care who it is you think you need to see. You are not getting past this police line.” The guy was as big as a fucking oak tree and as white, purebred and hard-assed as a Neo-Nazi on the Fuhrer’s golden birthday.
“And I said I want to speak to fucking Inspector Cage, now!” By the third time I’d said it, I’d lost my patience. I’d already taken an aggressive stance, feet apart and arms loose at my sides. I didn’t realize it, but my hair was beginning to blow in a wind of my own making and light was beginning to pool around me like a small beacon.
“Lars!” Cage’s voice cut through the crowd stilling all movement and sound. It figures the guy had a name like Lars. It fit him.
I could hear Cage stomping his way through the gravel towards us, each step precise and obviously annoyed at the interruption. Good, at least I wasn’t the only one having a sunshiny wonderful day.
“Is there a reason you’re making such a commotion at my crime scene?” That was Cage; he wanted order, peace and quiet while they sifted through the muck.
“Just keeping the riffraff out of the scene, Inspector,” he said with a nod towards me.
“Look here, you little pissant,” I said, taking a step into him. Call me fucking riffraff. As if. I could feel the color drain from my face as I went from zero to pissed in two seconds.
“Officer, that will be enough. Ms. Tennai is here at my request. And Rihker, turn off the glamour. Now. I’ve no time for this shit.”
I wanted to say, “But he started it!” But it’s a little hard when I’m being shuffled past Officer Burly Bad Ass by Cage’s deathlike grip on my arm.
Guess he was firmly put into his place. But it still pissed me off that he’d said that shit, so I flipped him off in passing. Call me childish. I know.
“Your friend stays put,” Cage said as he glared at Dragon.
“Fine,” I replied with a shrug as I looked back at Dragon. He and Officer Friendly were having a staring contest. Bet I knew who was going to win.
