by Anne Bishop
But it was the Landscapers who controlled Ephemera now, keeping the landscapes stable despite the flood of emotions that poured out of human hearts. And somewhere in the maze of gardens and buildings at the school were walls even older than the tower.
Why had Harland refused to consider the possibility?
This possibility must have a name, his mind whispered. You’re not afraid to speak the name, are you?
No, he wasn’t afraid, and he wasn’t afraid to look at a truth Harland didn’t want to consider. There was only one reason for keeping watch all these years: to see the warning in time to defend themselves if the Eater of the World returned.
Koltak turned away from the window, then rummaged through his desk for a headache powder. It wasn’t surprising he felt a little strange after a sleepless night and the events of this morning.
Cursing softly when he realized he had nothing in his room and would have to go down to the dispensary, he sank into his desk chair, still rubbing his forehead.
Harland had been thrown off balance this morning. That was understandable. Given a little time to think, he would realize the necessity of going to the school and discussing the hidden garden with the Landscapers.
After all, if something had happened to break the magic that had caged the Eater and Its landscapes, everyone’s survival was at stake.
It flowed into the woods north of the city, where Its presence would be lost among other shadows.
It had learned much over the years from the human prey that had stumbled into Its landscapes—especially from the humans who were, themselves, predators. It had learned to take the shape of Its favorite before It had destroyed the sanity of the middle-aged, elegant gentleman who had enjoyed killing women so viciously.
It had learned. And now It understood that the spawn of the Dark Ones had known about the hated stone wall. They had known where the garden was hidden. They had found a way to send prey into Its landscapes, but they had never tried to free It. Caged, It had been a useful tool.
But It was not a tool to be used by the Dark Ones’ spawn. It was the Eater of the World. When It returned to the city, they would want to be Its friends.
But before It left this landscape to deal with the enemies at the school, It would show the Dark Ones’ spawn why they wanted to be Its friends.
With Teaser beside him, Sebastian strode down the Den’s main street feeling itchy, angry, ready to hunt. He was dressed for it, primed for it—the bad boy on the strut. As he studied the street, he realized how shabby everything had gotten in the past few years. The windows on the shops and taverns were grimy, the alleys smelled of piss, and the colored lights that had made him think of a carnival when he’d first come to the Den were dulled by layers of dirt. Like an old whore still trying to dress up to prove she was desirable.
But this was his home; this was his life; this was all he had and would ever have. This.
He wanted to smash things, break things, wound and rage, because somehow, after thirty years of living, this was all he deserved.
More than anything, he wanted to hurt someone.
That was when he saw the young woman creeping out of an alley, every movement shrieking of fear.
And the small something inside him that had been struggling to survive since he’d come back from Wizard City suddenly yearned for her, craved her with enough strength to knock the ugly feelings churning in him off balance for a moment. Then everything inside him focused on her. Just her.
Teaser tipped his head and studied her. “Huh. Look at that. A country mouse fresh off the farm.”
More like a rabbit who has bolted straight into a pack of wolves. Sebastian’s mouth watered at the thought.
Teaser tipped his head to the other side, considering. “Maybe not so fresh. If she smells like she looks, not even the incubi will want a taste before she’s washed up. Guess I’ll just—”
Sebastian whipped one arm out, forming a barrier in front of Teaser. “Mine.”
“On the way here, you said you wanted someone with some kick and bite. You’re not going to get much of anything from that one.”
“This one is mine.”
He approached her slowly, more a stalk than a walk, giving her time to notice him. She glanced at the alley, then back at him, unable to decide if it was safer to stay or run. She didn’t want to go back into the alley where it was dark and smelly, but if she stayed he’d be on top of her. Stay or run?
Poor, foolish little rabbit. She didn’t realize yet the decision had already been made.
He smiled at her—and put everything he was into that smile.
She didn’t smile back. She just stared at him as if he were the vilest demon she had ever seen.
Which was probably true.
“This your first visit?” he asked pleasantly.
“What?”
“Is this your first visit to the Den?” Of course it was. She wouldn’t look so bewildered if she’d been here before, but so often the hayseeds liked to pretend they weren’t as ignorant as everyone here knew they were. That pretending was one of the reasons some of them didn’t survive long enough to go home again.
“Den?”
“The Den of Iniquity.” Sebastian bared his teeth in a smile. “Not quite what you expected?”
If she was frightened before, she was terrified now. “I don’t belong here. I can’t belong here. It’s a mistake.” She looked at him, her blue eyes pleading. “Please. It’s a mistake.”
He shook his head. “No one comes to the Den by mistake. By accident, certainly, but not by mistake. You got here, which means something inside you resonated with this place.”
“No,” she whispered. “No.”
She looked ready to collapse. If he didn’t get her calmed down, she wouldn’t be any fun at all.
“My name’s Sebastian. What’s yours?”
“Lynnea.”
“Pretty name.” And the way she pronounced it—Lyn NEA—gave it a softer, richer sound.
Even exhausted and bedraggled, she was pretty in a wholesome way that made him uneasy. He could picture warming her up enough to enjoy a steaming-hot roll between the sheets—and he could picture holding her in his arms for an easy kiss and a snuggle.
That bothered him. A lot.
“Why don’t we go to Philo’s?” Sebastian said. “It’s just down the street. You look like you could use some food.”
“Oh.” She raised her hands to her light-brown hair in an automatic, feminine gesture. “Oh, I couldn’t. I’m…” Looking down at the dirty, short-sleeved tunic and ankle-length skirt, she wrinkled her nose.
“It’s an open courtyard. You’ll be fine.” He held out a hand. She shrank away from it, which made him angry, but he kept an easy smile on his face. Before he was finished with her, she would beg him to put his hands on her and have her in any way he wanted.
As he let that thought fill him, the something inside him that was struggling against the ugly feelings withered.
“Come on,” he said. He shifted just enough to block any attempt she might make to rabbit back down the alley. Seeing no choice, she eased away from the wall and walked down the street, with him a half step behind her so that he could catch her if she tried to bolt.
With this strange mood riding him, he wasn’t sure what he’d do to her if she tried to get away from him.
By the time he herded her to Philo’s, Teaser was already there, doing a live performance with a succubus. The handful of statues scattered among the tables in the courtyard were all sexually explicit and painted with such detail it took careful study to be sure they weren’t real. There were also two small platforms for the “live art.”
At the moment, Teaser and the succubus were holding a pose. His shirt was open and tugged off his shoulders; his hands were on her hips. One of her legs hooked around his waist, her back was arched, and one hand reached for the zipper of his leather trousers. In a few seconds they would follow through on the moves before striking another
pose.
“Those statues look so real,” Lynnea said, her eyes wide. “But…what are they doing?”
Figuring it was better not to shock the little rabbit too much, he guided her to the only available table and pulled out a chair for her that put her back to Teaser’s performance.
Philo bustled up to their table, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows in a concession to the warm summer night. His smile of welcome faltered when he looked at Lynnea, and when he turned to Sebastian there was a bleakness in his dark eyes that was too much like Teaser’s expression back at the cottage.
Philo was good at assessing his customers, at judging the outcome of a pairing. Which was why the man was dismayed to see him there with a female who was so obviously prey. The kind of female who would get chewed up by the incubi’s seductive games and end up throwing herself in a river out of shame or despair.
It rankled that Philo seemed disappointed in him, almost fearful. The man had no right to judge him. And it was none of Philo’s damn business whom he spent the night with.
He stared at Philo, holding the man’s gaze with the force of his will until Philo looked away, uneasy.
Giving them both a weak smile, Philo said, “Will you be having the Phal—”
“Your specialty of bread and warm cheese,” Sebastian cut in. If his little rabbit knew what “phallic” meant, she’d probably run down the street screaming. And that wasn’t the way he wanted her to scream. “And wine.”
Philo hurried away, ignoring calls from other tables.
“Wine?” Lynnea said, shaking her head. “I can’t. Only…bad women drink liquor.”
Well, wasn’t she just little miss prissy prig? He’d change that. Oh, yes. Before he let her go, he was going to change a great many things. “Wine isn’t liquor; it’s wine. No civilized meal is complete without it.”
She frowned, and as she tried to wrap her mind around that thought, he noticed how exhausted she was. Not just dirty and scared, but truly exhausted. If it had been that hard to reach the Den, why had she tried at all?
Philo returned with a tray. He set a bowl in front of each of them that contained a small wet cloth, placed a dry hand towel beside the bowls, then put two glasses of red wine on the table and left.
Sebastian felt the tension inside him ease a little. Trust Philo to understand the female ego. The little rabbit wouldn’t want to eat with dirty hands, but by providing towels for both of them, he wasn’t commenting on Lynnea’s appearance.
Plucking his towel from the bowl, Sebastian rubbed it over his hands, the movement releasing a light citrus scent. Lynnea watched for a moment, then copied him. She folded the towel neatly before putting it back in the bowl.
Folding his own towel, Sebastian leaned toward her and said, “You’ve got a smudge on your cheek.” In truth, her whole face was dirty, but he wanted a reason to touch her that would seem innocent—to her mind, anyway. As he stroked the towel down her cheek, he had a lot of thoughts about that touch. None of them were innocent.
With a little coaxing, he got her to take a sip of the wine. By her third sip she didn’t need coaxing anymore, and he felt relieved when Philo returned with two small plates, a basket full of chunks of bread, and the bowl of melted cheese. On an empty stomach, it wouldn’t take much wine to get his little rabbit thoroughly sloshed, and he wanted her relaxed, not unconscious.
Sebastian looked at the basket and winced—a perfectly understandable response to seeing anything that was usually penis-shaped cut up into chunks.
Since she hesitated, he took a chunk of bread and swirled it in the cheese, then nodded for her to do the same. “Careful. The cheese is hot.”
She picked a head out of the basket. Oh, she wouldn’t know what it was, wouldn’t associate its shape with anything male, but as he watched her swirl the head in the cheese, his pants suddenly felt too tight—and his heart gave a hard bump when her tongue darted out to catch the cheese dripping from the end. And when she blew on the head to cool the cheese enough to eat, he thought his skin would burst into flames.
She had no idea what she was doing—and it was killing him.
“This is good,” she said, reaching for another piece.
He stuffed his own piece of bread and cheese in his mouth to keep from saying something erotic, suggestive, lewd. Desperate.
How was he supposed to think when his cock was throbbing and his brain couldn’t get past how her mouth closed over the bread, how her mouth could close over his—
Applause from the other tables startled both of them. Lynnea started to turn in her chair to see what people were responding to, but Philo was back, blocking her view as he set a plate on the table.
“Something to go with the house specialty,” Philo said. “Stuffed Tits.”
“What?” Lynnea raised a protective hand to her chest as she stared at the plate.
“Um…er…” Philo gave Sebastian a panicked look.
Lynnea frowned. “Those look like…mushrooms.”
“Yes,” Philo said quickly. “Stuffed mushrooms. Harmless.”
She continued to study the mushrooms. “They do look like tits, don’t they? Sort of round but pointy with the stuffing.” She took one and put it on her plate. Then she picked up a piece of bread. “What do you call this stuff?”
Beads of sweat popped out on Philo’s forehead. “Ah…Phallic Delights.”
“What’s ‘phallic’?” she asked. Then she hiccuped.
Sebastian closed his eyes and tried not to moan. His little rabbit was sloshed on half a glass of wine, and watching her inhibitions fall away made him feel very peculiar. He should be reveling in how easy this had been. Instead he wanted to get her away from any bad influences. Which was funny, since he was an incubus, this was the Den, and he intended to be the baddest influence she met during this visit.
“It’s a word polite young ladies don’t know,” Philo replied.
“Oh.” Lynnea stared at the bread. “But I’m a bad person, so I can say that word. Phalllllic.”
Someone from another table called, and Philo fled in response.
Sebastian opened his eyes and watched Lynnea swirl the bread in the cheese—and knew he was in trouble.
“Eat your mushroom,” he said. Daylight! Now he sounded like a priggish older brother. What had happened to the desire to hunt, to hurt, to seduce her?
“Stuffed tit,” she replied. Then she giggled.
The sound produced a heat inside him that bewildered him. It was like suddenly standing in a beam of sunlight—and that something inside him that was struggling to survive fed on the sound.
Having lost his appetite for food, he drank his wine while he watched her eat.
Finally she leaned back, took a sip of wine, and looked around. “This is a strange place.”
It’s the Den. “Why did you come here, Lynnea?”
“Wasn’t supposed to. Was…supposed to go to the Landscapers’ School, but Ewan left me on the side of the road, and…” She shuddered. “Don’t want to think about that. Not now.”
“All right,” Sebastian said soothingly. “We won’t talk about that.” Yet. “Tell me how you got to the Den.”
“Went over a bridge. Was trying…” Her eyes filled with tears. “He told me to come to him.”
Sebastian’s heart slammed against his chest. No. It couldn’t be. “Who? Ewan?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. A voice inside my head. After Mam told me I was going to be sent away, I was just thinking, and…”
A tear rolled down her cheek. She whispered, “I just wanted to find a place where I would feel safe, where I wouldn’t be afraid all the time. But I ended up here. So I guess I’m a bad person after all.”
The Landscapers will send me to a bad place. I just want—
What? What do you want?
I want to be safe. I want to be loved. I want to be someplace where I’m not afraid all the time.
Come to me.
Guardians
and Guides.
Pushing back his chair, Sebastian helped Lynnea to her feet, then led his jelly-legged little rabbit to the brothel that was on a side street two blocks away from Philo’s. After getting his key from the clerk behind the counter in the lobby, he half carried Lynnea up the stairs and down the corridor to his room on the third floor.
Dark, heavy furniture. Red velvet curtains around the bed and the windows. The room was big enough to have a sitting area as well as the bed. No fireplace, but he had a connecting bathroom that he shared with Teaser, whose room also had a connecting door.
Masculine. Alien. A room designed for seduction and a sexual feast.
And there was Lynnea, with her torn, dirty clothes, looking more like an exhausted child than a woman ripe for a romp. Looking so out of place it made his heart hurt.
“What are you wearing under that?” he asked, gesturing to the tunic and skirt.
“A shift.”
He hoped she was wearing more than that, but he wasn’t going to ask.
He led her to the bathroom door, paused a moment to listen, then pushed the door open.
“An indoor privy,” she said, sounding impressed. “I’d heard everyone has them in the cities now.”
“We may be decadent, but we’re not backward. We even have lektricity for the streetlights and in some parts of the buildings.” And he’d never wondered until now why a place like the Den would have such things.
“I should take a bath.”
She sounded hesitant—not about the bath but about being completely naked with a strange man on the other side of the door.
