, in May. About thirty to thirty-five guests, though I won’t know for sure until they RSVP. Plus their personal renfields, lucies in some cases, and other attendants. I’ll be contacting Paco for supplies and Theresa will be managing the household side, but you’ll need to put the usual preparations in hand for storing the refreshments. Please consult and organize. I don’t want any complications.” Bates looked . . . Professionally interested
, Ellen thought. Mendoza, the policeman, he’s gone a little gray. Refreshments for a Shadowspawn house party . . . storing the refreshments . . . oh, Christ! “Immediately, Doña
,” Mendoza said. “Ma’am,” Bates added. “That’ll be . . . about eighty?” “That should do,” Adrienne said. “It’s a party, one shouldn’t stint.” “And the wastage we can expect?” “Around fifty percent, but it’s impossible to be precise; we can always use a few extra workers afterwards. I’ll try to arrange the shipments starting in mid-March. Do tell Dr. Duggan.” She nodded to both, put her helmet back on and peeled off into the traffic. I’m not going to ask. I’m not going to ask
, Ellen thought, gripping her tightly. I’m not even going to
think about asking. “You’ll be much happier that way,” Adrienne agreed. She pulled into Lucy Lane. “Ah, the weekly barbecue!” A spicy, smoky smell came from Number Three, the babble of a crowd, and the sound of a guitar. “Perhaps I’ll drop by for a snack myself later,” Adrienne said, reaching back and giving her a slapping pat. “Off you go, ma douce
.” “Hi!” Ellen said, putting her head in the open door of One Lucy Lane. I’d like to have someone I know a little with me when I brave that crowd at Jose’s. New kid . . . new lucy . . . on the block and all that. “I’m here!” Monica replied. “Kitchen! Come on in!” Ellen followed the scents of baking and cooking to the steamy warmth. Monica was in her frilled bib-apron again, with her jacket slung on the back of a chair. “Good to see you again,” Ellen said to her smile. Which is actually true. I think she really
is friendly. And she must be a basically strong person or she’d be a lot crazier than she is. Eight years with Adrienne! I’m feeling pretty crazed after that many
days. “Sorry I couldn’t be here to help with the setup, but I’ve brought a good appetite,” she said aloud. “We only stopped for a taco at lunch.” “That’s what makes a barbecue a success—appetite! I’m just getting my contributions ready. The kids are already over there and things should really start in about half an hour.” Monica stopped her bustle for a moment to eye the nile twinset and earth-toned skirt Ellen had changed into; the FedEx parcels had been waiting for her at Number Five. “You
had a shopping weekend,” Monica said brightly. “And a successful one.” Her kitchen and dining nook had a lived-in look; scrawled crayon pictures by her children tacked up to a corkboard on a cabinet, dogeared recipe books, a slightly obsolete terminal fastened to the door of the refrigerator that had a couple of spots on the touch-screen, bowls soaking in the sinks. It smelled wonderfully of fresh bread and homemade mayonnaise and pimentos, and Ellen’s stomach twisted. The mid-floor island had a series of dishes standing ready—green salads and potato salad in bowls covered in plastic wrap, a basket of crusty homemade baguettes with a dish towel over them, and plates of cookies glistening with half-melted chocolate chips and studded with walnuts. “Isn’t Jean-Charles wonderful? I go up just for him a couple times a year, and more often so I’ll have an excuse to wear some of the things! Rancho Sangre is lovely but it’s not a real dress-up town. Peter and I go to the opera there, and sometimes Adrienne goes with us.” “You like opera?” Ellen said. Monica nodded. “I know I’m not a college graduate like you—” she began, sounding a little defensive. Ellen made a wave to a halt
gesture. “Monica, I’m the first person—well, the first woman—in my family ever
to go to university. If I hadn’t been desperate to get out of Allentown for personal reasons I
probably wouldn’t have gone. I’m a small-towner and all my family were coal miners and steelworkers for a hundred years. And housewives and secretaries and the odd elementary teacher or whatnot.” Monica relaxed slightly. “Same here, SoCal version. I have some friends there in San Francisco, though it’s, well, difficult. But Jean-Charles makes you feel like you’re his little sister and he’s giving you advice.” “Yes, actually, he was
very nice,” Ellen said honestly. “I really enjoyed . . . part of that. We had a dinner with one of Adrienne’s Shadowspawn friends, and a lunch with her and another one and some . . . other lucies. That wasn’t as much fun. Though the food was great and I tried to concentrate on that.” I’ll leave out the politics, and the threat of universal destruction, and Kai. Shit, I wish
I could forget that little bitch! Not as scary as the Shadowspawn but even
more revolting. “Oh, you poor darling!” Monica stopped to give her a brief hug. “The other Shadowspawn, they’re awful
. I absolutely hate
the way they look at me. It makes me feel . . . all cold and alone and shivery inside. Though the Doña
would never let any of them hurt us.” “Uh . . . yeah,” Ellen said. Only
she gets to hurt us. You can see how she and Adrian started in the same place. But the difference! She frowned for an instant. It’s odd . . . I haven’t heard a thing about Adrian in days, but I feel like I know him better than I did before we broke up . . . as if the breakup didn’t happen, somehow. Things will be different, once I’m out of this. And I can’t just wait. I’ve got to keep looking for something I can do. The other woman looked in the oven, shook her head, and murmured: “Not quite ready.”
Then she went on: “So tell me all of what you did. Did you stop for a picnic on the way up?” “Uh . . . yeah. Thanks for the stuff you packed for us. Adrienne did this berserk driving thing, frightened the bejesus out of me, and—” “Fed on you while the blood was juicy and tingly,” Monica said succinctly. A reminiscent smile: “I think I know the spot. She’s done that to me, and before I realized that it was safe no matter how
fast we were going I was terrified
. Now it just scares
me. Then I actually . . . well, she made me take off all my clothes and wash in the ocean before she drank the blood, and the water’s cold
there. I was head-to-toe stark naked goose bumps right there on the beach while she fed. Thank God it was summer and even more that nobody came along!” “I was going to ask you about the feeding thing, a bit,” Ellen said. “I’ve noticed that at first it just made me want to stay still—” “But now you don’t feel so paralyzed, and it gets better and better?” A smile. “Starting to really like it, aren’t you?” “Well . . . yes. I might as well, if it’s going to happen regularly anyway. I’m still scared spitless beforehand.” “Oh, that
doesn’t change. It’s more of a nice-scary for me now, but she still looks so . . . so predatory
when she’s about to feed on you, doesn’t she?” Ellen nodded. Oh, yeah. Because she actually
is being predatory and you know she’s actually, really no-kidding going to bite you and
drink your fucking blood.
Aloud: “But while she’s drinking and for a while afterward it’s pretty nice.” “That lovely drifting feeling when you feel like you love the whole world and everything’s so right? And the way the blood makes her face shine with happiness, that looks so beautiful too?” “Mmmm, yes. What’s it like if she doesn’t
bite you for a while?” “Terrible,” Monica said matter-of-factly. She poured them each a glass of white Zinfandel and sat at the kitchen table across from her. “First, after four days or so, you just get . . . itchy and nervous and you can’t concentrate and it’s all you can think about. Then, after about a week, your skin feels like it’s going to crawl off of you and slither into a corner and cry. Then, after two weeks—that’s the longest it’s been for me—it still does, but you don’t care, because you feel like your best friend just died and it’s all you
r fault. Dr. Duggan says it gets better after that—she’s helped some lucies who got retired—but I’m not interested in finding out.” “Ouch,
” Ellen said. Sounds like quitting smoking, only worse.
“Well, I asked.” “That you did. I want her to go on biting me as long as possible. So what else happened?” “We went to the town house.” “God, isn’t it gorgeous
? That heated infinity pool on the edge of the terrace, where it makes you think you can swim out over the city?” “Yeah. And, um, we made out. I mean actually made out, not the . . . painful and really absolutely frightening stuff. A little feeding with that. I didn’t know if I could relax enough to actually get going, but I did.” This time the smile was sly: “Like having a tiger in the sheets with you when she gets in that mood, isn’t she?” “Ummm, yes. That’s just exactly what I thought.” For good and bad. You can’t forget the claws and fangs are there, even when it’s purring. “And oh, don’t the little nips of feeding add to it? You just wish it could all go on forever.” “Except that your brain would explode and run out your ears or your heart would rip loose or something.” “Mmm-hmmm
,” Monica said, then continued thoughtfully: “That part was hard for me at first. I was, you know, very shy and prudish and only twenty-one, and I was very religious then. For a while I thought I must be, you know, a bad person.” “That must have been hard.” A shrug. “Sometimes life is
hard. We both know that. And I’m not a bad person, I think. I just . . . came to terms with things. I’d never been with anyone but my husband. And now I’ve never been with anyone but him and Adrienne.” Ellen hesitated. Well, let’s be helpful and honest at the same time
, she thought, and went on: “It wasn’t my first time with a woman, more like the third, but it was the first time it was more than, ‘Oh, this is interesting but not something I’d like to make a habit of.’ So I think it’s that Shadowspawn mojo at work.” The more so because Adrian is also dynamite in the sack, even more so than his sister, but that
would be oversharing. God,
even better in bed than his sister. That’s an odd thing to be able to say. Or even think. Monica nodded. “Well, it was never very exciting for me with Tom. I wondered what all the fuss was about. It was always over so quickly, and I wondered if other women were having a better time.” A sigh. “Now that I look back on it all, I’m sort of regretful I didn’t try more to find out what I wanted. I envy you being able to go to college and have all sorts of experiences. I thought he was sort of, you know, small
too . . .” She made gestures with her hands. Ellen looked and said clinically: “No, that looks about average to me. Unless he’s deformed
, size doesn’t really matter. A lot of men don’t have a clue and then, yes, it’s sort of dull from our point of view.” “Oh, I know all about that
.” Ellen blinked at her. Didn’t she just say she’d only— Monica chuckled, with the sly note back. “You know about the night-walking?” “About how they can get out of their bodies and turn into wolves and tigers and birds?” She laughed. “Silly, if they can turn into birds
and things, it’s even easier for them to turn into other people
. She likes to . . . come to us lucies . . . night-walking, sometimes. Not very often—she says she wants to enjoy her birth-body while she’s still got it—but every once in a while.” “Oh,” Ellen said. Then . . . Think of the implications, as Dr. Duggan said. Eerrrrk! That must have shown on her face. Monica went on gently: “She can be anyone she’s bitten. The first time she turned into me
right in the middle of things I nearly jumped out of my skin, let me tell you!” “Ah . . . that would be extremely strange.” “At first. After a while, it was sort of flattering. I knew I was pretty and had a good figure even after the kids, but that convinced me I was, you know, actually really hot stuff. And I felt so naughty
. You can tell it’s her—the personality’s her
, no doubt about it—but it’s really you
, too. Or she could be you with me, or me with you.” “Ah . . . yeah, I suppose it would be, umm, interesting.” Errrrk! “And, of course, she can be a guy, night-walking.” “She can? And—” “Everything works, right. Anyone she’s bitten; Jose, Jamal, Peter, lots of others.” A giggle. “Except that it’s a guy who can read your mind, and knows exactly what it feels like from the other side as well.” “That sounds . . .” Oh, Jesus,
Ellen thought, as her heart skipped in alarm. Keep calm, Ellen. It’s . . . well, yes, it
is weird, but weird is now your normal, and you can deal with the icky part. “. . . like it might be fun now and then.” Monica nodded. “It’s always fun when she wants it to be, whatever shape she’s in. And when she wants us scared or hurt . . . well, then we just have to go with that.” Yes, we do. But I got away from being hurt. And now I’m right back in it, only worse. And you’re in a position where you need to think it’s all right. I won’t think that. I just won’t. There was a silence for a moment, and then Monica rose, looked in the stove again, turned it off and then faced around with her hands on her hips. “I’m not stupid, you know,” she said. Ellen blinked. “I never said—Monica, I never thought
you were—” “I’m not crazy either. I know she hurts me, really hurts me, and that’s going to happen sometimes. Whenever she feels like it. I just . . . I’ve decided to accept that. She cares for me in her way, but she needs
to hurt. The Shadowspawn aren’t like
us; they’re like cats and we’re mice. I was born
a mouse, I just didn’t know there were such things as cats. OK, I’m a mouse, and I’m lucky my cat wants to play with me and not finish me off.” “Do cats enjoy hurting mice?” “Yes, they do,” she said flatly. “Adrienne told me. She can read their minds . . . well, their feelings.” “Oh.” Damn. I always hoped they didn’t. “So I can take that, it’s not all the time. I’m not going to let it spoil my whole life. My life was over
when I came here. I was going to end up homeless . . . I was
homeless. I just didn’t know where to go or what to do or how to take care of my babies. Mom’s sister couldn’t have put us up, not for more than a few days. Things . . . things worse than anything that’s happened to me here could, would, have happened. And bad things are going to happen to the whole world
. There are good parts to this, lots of good parts, and my children and I are safe. So there!” “I’m not judging you, Monica. You’re doing what you have to do to survive, and this is my second time ’round. At least this time it isn’t someone I should have been able to trust absolutely.” “Oh,” Monica said, then: “Oh
.” She put a hand on Ellen’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” A hesitation: “Does Adrienne know? Because . . . well, you know how it is about trying not to think of something . . .” Ellen shrugged. “I’m pretty sure she does. She did that memory-searching thing on me the day after I got here, and I had flashes of things right back to when I was about four. It . . . started a long time after that.” Monica put her fingers by her own temples and wiggled them. “Doesn’t that reading your memories thing make you itch
inside your head?” “Yes, it does . . . Monica, you’ve been very good to me. I think you were right that first day: we are
going to be friends. Let’s get this stuff out and have a good time at the barbecue, shall we?”
Adrienne looked up and tossed aside her copy of Architectural Digest
as the door opened. A nude Shadowspawn woman walked through onto the terrace, her face and forearms and breasts dotted with blood. Beside her sprawled and slithered a ten-foot Komodo dragon, three hundred pounds of reptilian predator with red-running serrated teeth. “Bonsoir, Maman, Papa
,” she said, embracing the woman and kissing her on both cheeks. There was a faint tang of blood from the drops there—cooling, but still savory, like a slightly overripe banana. “Bonsoir, Adrienne . . .”
the woman said. Then she looked down at the reptile, h
er tone becoming exasperated: “Oh, for the love of God
, Jules, I know it’s your favorite new toy, but really! It smells
!” It did, of carrion and death. The great predatory lizard reared; there was a blurring, and it was a man on one knee with a hand touching the ground. He rose and returned Adrienne’s embrace gracefully; then the pair both stood while servants cleaned them with hot, scented damp towels and dropped loose robes like Adrienne’s over their heads. They and she had a family resemblance; the pair were a little below medium height, dark-haired and olive-skinned, with a look of vital, well-preserved early middle age. Their eyes were hot gold, like pools of molten metal with darker flecks crawling through them in slow motion. “Our baggage and servants should be here momentarily, Adrienne,” Julianne Brézé said. “But it is great fun to fly in to the tower on one’s own wings. And the refreshments were lovely! I was always partial to blonds.” “So am I,” Adrienne said. “I have an absolutely wonderful new one you must meet. She has the most interesting mind.” “We heard,” her father said. “Stealing Adrian’s lucy! Not that the boy doesn’t deserve it, with some of the things he’s done. He always was a strange one.” “He’ll come ’round eventually,” Julianne said. “He’s our boy at heart.” She smiled, blood crimson on her teeth before she licked them clean. “Those two were absolutely delicious . . . They were really very thoughtful of you, ma fille douce
. And it was so sweet
; the man kept trying to protect
her, and she kept calling his name. Marvelous!” “Chivalry is not dead,” Jules said. “Not Californians, from the accents?” “No, my renfields picked them up for you . . . tourists at San Simeon, in fact. I’ve had them combing the possibilities, with the party in mind.” “Ah.” Jules sighed. “The Enchanted Hill was such a pleasant place in its prime. A shame to think of it being overrun with gawkers.” “There were some fabulous parties there when we were a newlywed couple,” Julianne agreed, and then laughed softly: “Particularly the parts that our host didn’t allow into the papers.” Jules nodded. “What a pity William didn’t transition successfully. Still, he was genetically marginal—a tragedy more common in his generation.” An attendant set out wine, bread, olive oil, a selection of cheeses and dried fruits and nuts. It would have been chilly for humans, but the Shadowspawn reclined comfortably around the table, nibbling and sipping, enjoying the jeweled arch of the heavens and the new moon. Wood burned in iron cages at the corners of the terrace, reflecting on the water of the pool below. “So, what is this of Hajime
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