Cutie and the Beast

by E. J. Russell

  “No, you stop it. It’s not like I deceived you on purpose, unlike—oh, I don’t know—other people I could name.” David split his glare between Alun and Cassie. “I mean, first it’s a problem that I’m human, and now it’s a problem that I’m not? There’s no pleasing you, is there?”

  You please me too much—that is the problem. Alun remained a safe double arm’s–length away from David. “Stay home. Stay hidden.”

  David narrowed his eyes and propped his hands on his hips. “Oh no you don’t, Dr. Domineering. You are not firing me again. I need that job, and whether you want to admit it or not, you need me in it.”

  The two of them locked gazes until Alun, Goddess forgive him, surrendered. So weak when I don’t really want to win.

  “Very well. But if you come back to work, you are there only as a temp, nothing more. We cannot touch. Not then. Not ever.”

  After Alun left in all his stubborn martyred glory, David helped Aunt Cassie get settled in her bed, then wandered into his own room. Why did all his relationships end before they ever really started? Granted, most of his previous breakups didn’t involve swords and packs of ravening hounds, not to mention discovering he was the supernatural equivalent of a miracle drug.

  Damn it, this wasn’t his fault! Why was he any different today than he was yesterday?

  Needing something to calm his nerves, he reached for the worry stone on his bureau. As soon as he picked it up, though, a weird itching at the base of his skull startled him into dropping it.

  The itch stopped. What the—

  He touched the stone with a fingertip, and a light buzz started at the top of his spine, as if a dentist had rested a drill too close. When he picked it up, the itch hit full-on, worse than before, making him grit his teeth.

  “Swell. Now even my own comfort items are fighting me. Good thing my earring is lost forever in Faerie or my ear would have probably fallen off.”

  Jeez, if this was what all those grumpy men who’d brawled around him had felt, he didn’t blame them for flinging office furniture. David was tempted to do some flinging too—himself at Alun, for instance.

  Wait. He plopped down on his bed. Alun’s curse. He’d been cursed by achu-whatever-ion. Is that why he doesn’t want me anymore? Well, he needs to get over that right freaking now.

  David hadn’t imagined it. They’d had a true connection last night, before and after the best sex ever. How could the stupid, stubborn fairy leave that behind?

  Tomorrow. Well, not tomorrow, seeing as it was Saturday. But come Monday, David would wheedle, cajole, nag, and otherwise coerce Alun into changing his mind. Because he wasn’t giving up, and Dr. Alun freaking-fae Kendrick would just have to shut up and deal.

  But on Monday, all of David’s Alun-stalking plans had fizzled. Every time he’d attempted to get close enough to Alun to touch him, the infuriating man shied away like a skittish virgin. Only one more appointment before the end of the day, and it couldn’t happen soon enough, because this lecherous-seducer stuff was exhausting.

  Mrs. Tomlinson and Benjy walked in, right on time. She was wearing another understated designer masterpiece in black, and Benjy had on his usual midget-preppy-in-training outfit of blazer, flannel shorts, white shirt, and red tie.

  “Good evening.” David smiled at them, adding a trace of an ear-wiggle to tease a muffled giggle out of Benjy.

  She glanced at her son with a fond smile before turning the wattage on David. “Could I ask you a huge favor, my dear?”

  “Name it.”

  “After Benjamin joins me in Dr. Kendrick’s office, could you let Hans and Joachim know?”

  “The gentlemen in the hallway?”

  “Yes. Joachim has a brief errand to run, although Hans will remain in the hall as usual.”

  “No problem. Would they care for some coffee?”

  “That’s sweet of you, but they don’t indulge while on duty.” She settled Benjamin in his usual chair in the far corner. David winked at him, earning a grin and a wriggle.

  When Alun opened his office door to invite Mrs. Tomlinson inside, he avoided David’s gaze as usual, the big jerk. David sighed as the door closed, and motioned Benjy over.

  The little boy scrambled out of his chair and ran across the room. Gripping the edge of David’s desk, he leaned his chin on his fingers. David didn’t try to figure out the reason why those big brown eyes looked as if they were swirling because, hey—they probably were.

  See? He was totally getting the hang of this supernatural stuff.

  “Did you bring another one?” Benjy whispered with a furtive glance at the closed office door.

  “Would I let you down?” David pulled the new action figure out of his drawer and handed it to Benjy, who accepted it in his cupped palms as if it were the Holy Grail. “That’s Batman. He’s a kick-butt crime fighter with a really cool car that he keeps in a cave under his house.”

  Benjy touched the pointed bat ears on the hooded cape. “He has pointy ears?”

  “No. That’s just a costume. Really he looks like a regular dude.”

  The boy opened the front of his jacket, revealing a decidedly lumpy inside pocket.

  “What have you got in there?”

  “The other ones. Chewbacca and Mr. Spock.” He held the pocket open to display the little plastic faces. “And now I gots Batman. Pretty soon I’ll have lots. More than anyone in my class.”

  “How many kids are in your class?”

  “Seven. But the others are all like Vanessa, not me.”

  “You mean girls?”

  He wrinkled his snub nose. “No-ooo. Wolfs.”

  The office door opened, and Benjy shoved Batman into his pocket with the clumsy stealth of the very young. He put his hands behind his back and attempted to look innocent.

  David would have to give him some pointers on that.

  Mrs. Tomlinson rested her hand on Benjy’s shoulder. “You are not to bother David, my son.”

  “He’s not bothering me. Benjy and I are great friends, right, big guy?”

  “It’s kind of you to say so, but—” Her smooth brow wrinkled in a slight frown as she studied Benjy’s bulging blazer. “What do you have in your pocket?”

  Benjy clapped a hand over his lumps. “Nothing.”

  “Benjamin,” she said, in the early-warning tone all mothers reserved for when said kids were trying to pull something.

  Benjy cut a glance at David.

  “Go on, kiddo. Show her.” Not like the kid was smuggling letter bombs or grade school contraband—whatever that might be.

  The boy opened his jacket and pulled out the three figures, holding them flat on his extended palms.

  “What are these?” Mrs. Tomlinson picked up Chewbacca between two pink-lacquered fingertips, causing Benjy to flinch.

  David trotted around his desk to stand next to the boy. “Don’t be mad, Mrs. T. They’re just action figures from some of my favorite stories. Benjy and me, we’ve got a deal. Every time he hangs out with me, he gets a new play guy.”

  “When we get up to ten, David said I could have a Death Star!” Benjy hugged the other two figures to his chest as if he was afraid his mother would take them too.

  She watched him, so still it was as if she’d stopped breathing. She held the little plastic figure out, just beyond Benjy’s reach, and the boy lunged for it. He snatched it from her fingers and half turned, tucking Chewie back in his pocket.

  David was ready to leap to Benjy’s defense if his mom gave him grief about being grabby, but she didn’t look angry. She pressed one hand to her chest and covered her mouth with the other, her eyes glistening with tears.

  “I’ve tried everything. Tonight I even tried a dragon’s breath emerald, but he barely glanced at it.”

  “He’s six. What six-year-old wants a stinky old emerald? Even if it’s—” She dug in her purse and pulled out a box, flipping it open to display a stone blazing with green fire. David’s eyes popped wide. “Holy crap, it’s the size of
a freaking tennis ball.”

  “Exactly. Who wouldn’t want such treasure?”

  “Treasure is in the eye of the hoarder. He likes action figures, not hot rocks. Wait until he’s a teenager and starts collecting girlfriends.”

  She stowed the emerald and held out both hands to David. “Thank you, my dear. You’ve no idea of the service you’ve done, nor what it means to us.”

  David gave her hands a squeeze. “It was totally my pleasure. Pals look out for each other, right, Benjy?” Benjy nodded enthusiastically. “He’s . . . uh . . . not in trouble, is he?”

  “Not in the least.” She smoothed her son’s dark hair, but a stubborn cowlick popped up at his crown. “I couldn’t be more proud of him.”

  Alun cleared his throat, still not sparing David a single glance. “Shall we continue our conversation inside?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  The three of them headed into Alun’s office. Mrs. Tomlinson smiled graciously at David, and Benjy waved—with the hand not clutching his pocket—but Alun kept his attention riveted on the fascinating gray carpet, then closed the door with a final-sounding click.

  Grrrr. When the Tomlinsons were gone, David was so going to tackle Dr. Avoidance—assuming he strayed within tackle distance for once.

  He stalked across the waiting room to give Joachim the okay to leave, then stomped around the waiting room, straightening magazines and refilling the coffee supplies. Even if he was royally pissed at his pigheaded boss, he still had pride in his work, damn it. Finally, with nothing else empty or out of alignment, he plopped into his chair and swiveled to face his monitor. What would it take for Alun to stop acting like David was the supernatural avatar of Nurse Ratched?

  David looked up from his moody scowl at an inoffensive Excel spreadsheet, and met Kristof Czardos’s reddened eyes. Shoot, he’d been so up in his head, he hadn’t heard the office door open.

  The man—vampire—and should David be worried about that?—had looked frail and wan last week, but tonight he looked downright cadaverous. Wasn’t that bad business for vampires? On the other hand, what the heck did he know about it since nobody would tell him anything.

  “Mr. Czardos, are you all right?”

  “I fear not. May I speak to Dr. Kendrick?”

  “He’s with another client now.” One of the unbreakable rules of the office was never to interrupt a session unasked.

  Mr. Czardos closed his eyes, his throat and mouth working in what David’s interrupted nurse’s training recognized as an attempt not to hurl. “He will understand. Tell him . . .” Despite the convulsive swallowing, his voice was still like a steel wire. “Tell him it is time.”

  It is time. Was that ever a good thing?

  David picked up the handset and buzzed Alun’s office on the intercom setting so it would broadcast on speaker instead of ring. “Dr. Kendrick, Mr. Czardos is here and he says it is time.”

  David hung up just as the bone-thin man—vampire—sheesh, this stuff would take getting used to—swayed on his feet in a way that rivaled David’s slickest dance moves. In other words, grotesque and a little frightening.

  David jumped up and raced around his desk to put a supporting arm around Mr. Czardos’s waist. He was shorter than David by a good two inches, and was about as big around as little Benjy. Didn’t vampires have a nutritionist on staff? This man was obviously starving to death.

  He led him to a chair and helped him sit. “Would you like another pastille? I’ve got a brand-new stock.”

  “Thank you.” He patted David’s hand. “You are very kind, but I fear it will not help me now.”

  Alun burst out of his office. “Don’t touch him.”

  David snatched his arm from around Mr. Czardos’s back. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  Mr. Czardos’s bloodless lips curved in the corpse of a smile. “I believe he was talking to me.”

  David shot a disgusted glance at Alun looming in the doorway to his office, his chest heaving and nostrils flaring like a bull about to charge. “Trust me, he was talking to me.” He faced Alun, glaring. “Which may be the first time all day, I might add. Jeez, Alun, you seriously need to stop giving yourself this mental wedgie.”

  “David, now is not the time.”

  David caught sight of Mrs. Tomlinson and Benjy peering around the office door. Professional boundaries. Right. Mr. Czardos was in obvious distress, and whatever time it was, it for sure wasn’t time to traumatize a six-year-old with adult bitch-fighting.

  He stood up and moved a careful three steps away. Alun approached slowly.

  “Are you sure, Kristof?”

  “I have endured as long as possible, but I am at the last of my strength, and the recidivist faction knows it. It is better if I go at a time of my choosing so I can ensure the transfer of power to the leader who will best serve my people.”

  Alun nodded, his face somber. “If that’s what you want, we’ll go to Forest Park to await the sun. Mal will join us as witness.”

  Mr. Czardos inclined his head, and although David expected a sigh, none came. With a jolt, he realized it was because the vampire wasn’t breathing.

  “Wait a minute. What are we talking about?” He glanced at the door to Alun’s office, where Benjy was still watching with enormous eyes, Batman clutched in his fist.

  “Tonight I die, young David.”

  “But—but why? Surely there’s something you could do or that your people could do, other than, you know, sucking the blood out of half of Portland.”

  He tilted his head a fraction of an inch. “My kind are not able to manufacture our own blood, nor can we breathe to aerate it. Our digestive system evolved to convert ingested blood from other species for what we could not manage ourselves. However, after ten centuries, I can no longer abide the taste, despite all of Alun’s therapies.” He lifted one shoulder. “It is the same for all species: human, fae, shifter, vampire. If we cannot feed, we die.”

  David sat in the chair next to him, despite Alun’s frown. “There must be another way. You could handle the pastilles fine. Isn’t there an alternative food source?”

  “The pastilles settled my stomach, but they did not alter my aversion. No other foodstuff can replace the blood in our veins.”

  “And IV doesn’t work?”

  Mr. Czardos blinked twice and exchanged a glance with Alun that, on a more demonstrative pair of faces, would have equated to dumbfounded.

  “IV?” Mr. Czardos asked.

  “You know, like a transfusion. Inserting the blood directly into your system through a vein instead of your mouth. I’d think that would be more efficient anyway, since no matter how evolved your digestion, you’re still bound to lose some of the oxygen-carrying traits in the digestive process.” Everyone continued to stare at David as if he were speaking in Elvish. “Wait—hasn’t anyone ever tried that?”

  “Nobody ever needed it before. Kristof is the oldest vampire on the planet. We assumed it was the normal end-of-life for his kind.”

  David jumped out of his chair and glared at Alun, fists on his hips. “This is the kind of thinking that gets people—or vampires—dead. Even if it doesn’t work perfectly, it’s bound to make him feel better. If there are other nutritional requirements besides the oxygenation, I bet we could find an alternative. Does it need to be liquid?” Who knew? Maybe vampires would go for green juice or Gatorade. “Unless . . .” David tried to figure out if Alun’s perma-scowl was slightly more appreciative than disapproving. With Alun in beast mode, it was hard to tell. “Do the supes have hospital facilities? A blood source? The IV equipment?”

  Alun assisted Mr. Czardos to rise. “We can acquire the supplies, but we need to get you to the health center immediately.”

  “Hans can take him.” Mrs. Tomlinson strode across the waiting room to the door. “Joachim will be back momentarily with the other car to pick up Benjamin and me.”

  She opened the door for Alun and Mr. Czardos, signaling to Hans, who escorted them to the e
levator. When Alun returned to the waiting room, he looked at David with a glow in his eyes that for all David knew was normal for the Sidhe, cursed or not. He gestured for the Tomlinsons to re-enter his office, but paused before he followed them.

  “I’m so proud of you,” he rumbled.

  Warmth spread from David’s chest to points south. How often had anyone aside from his indulgent aunts been proud of him? He took a step forward, but Alun held up one hand, palm out.

  “But it doesn’t change anything.” He turned and walked into his office, closing the door behind him.

  David stomped back to his desk and flopped into his chair. “Shit.”

  Goddess, David was remarkable. Perhaps growing up outside the confines of the rigid supe infrastructure was an advantage rather than a drawback. How many other time-worn practices had gotten solidified into tradition or law without regard to whether they were practical or even accurate? Pride and despair warred in Alun’s chest. He’d never have a chance to find out because David was out of his reach. Forever.

  “Dr. Kendrick.” Teresa sat on the edge of the love seat and held out her hand to him across the coffee table. “Alun. May I speak frankly?”

  He hesitated. None of his clients had ever touched him. Only Mal—and David—had touched him voluntarily since the day of his curse. He took her deceptively delicate hand—as a dragon shifter, she could probably fling him against the wall without breaking a nail. “Certainly.”

  “It is obvious that your charming office manager is in love with you.”

  “No. I’m sure—” He tried to withdraw his hand, but she gripped him tighter, nearly to the point of pain.

  “It is equally obvious that you feel the same about him.”

  Fear coiled in his belly like a restless serpent. No. I can’t. It’s impossible. “I’m sorry, Teresa, but you’re mistaken. What I feel for David—”

  “Is love.” She patted his hand and sat back next to her son. “Do you think that I, a dragon queen, don’t recognize the look in someone’s eyes when they gaze upon their greatest treasure?”