SkinThief

by Sonnet O'Dell

“You’ve had your fun, now you can leave.” Magnus jabbed his finger at the open balcony doors that were Aram’s favorite entrance and exit to my apartment.

  “Andra told me not to move unless she said,” Aram said childishly.

  “Cassandra, tell him,” Magnus insisted. I rolled my eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Dear Lord, I pray for wisdom to understand my man; love to forgive him; and patience for his moods. Because Lord, if I ask for strength, I’ll beat him to death. Amen.

  “Aram, go out onto the balcony and wait for me,” I said. Turning to Magnus, I stroked his face even though he glared at me. “Honey, take the food and get it all ready for us to eat. I’ll be right back.”

  Magnus snatched up the bag on the floor and headed into the kitchen while I followed Aram out onto the balcony. I shivered as the cold ran up my body from the snow under my feet. Aram leaned against the railing.

  “We’ve talked about this, Aram. You have to stop just coming into my room. I agreed to come by and see you when I could, but that does not entitle you in any way. And how the hell do you keep getting through my lock—is that your secret special vampire power?”

  Sienna, another vampire of Aram’s kiss, or group of vampires, had once told me that most vampires over the age of about three hundred had a special ability. Sienna’s was that he could freeze things.

  “Perhaps you would like me to show you my special power”—he leaned in, stroking his fingers up my arm—“later tonight. But you will come to the club and be seen seeing me this week.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Aram pressed his cold lips to my cheek, and it tingled.

  “Sweet dreams, pet.”

  I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, and when I opened them again he was gone. I kicked snow between the bars of my balcony and cursed the cold weather. Placing my hand on the door, I steeled myself for Magnus’s mood then shrugged it off; maybe he would be reasonable. When I made it to the bedroom door and heard the slamming of drawers and plates I knew he wasn’t going to be. I took another deep breath.

  “Did they remember the noodles?”

  Magnus smacked a box with the side of his hand, and I began peeling it open. A waft of steam hit me, and I looked down at the slick noodles. The smell was delicious and made me instantly hungry. Magnus divided the egg-fried rice and Kung Pao chicken between our plates and looked at me out of the sides of his eyes.

  “When were you planning on telling me about that?”

  I drew open the drawer, taking out a fork, and started pulling noodles out.

  “About what exactly?”

  “About being his ‘bride,’ Cassandra!”

  I turned my back to the counter, twisted my fork in the noodles and started eating them from the box.

  “I didn’t know how you would react,” I said, knowing that he would have reacted badly whether I had told him outright or waited until now, till it was exposed. “It’s just a title, a pretense to keep him out of trouble.”

  “Do you have any idea what it means to become a vampire’s bride?”

  “No. Do you?”

  He smacked his fist down on the counter.

  “No, but if it’s anything like what it would mean to normal people, it’s like you’re engaged to him.”

  I nearly choked on my noodles.

  “I am not engaged to Aram. I told you, it’s pretense—he knows that. I’m supposed to go over there once a week just to be seen as going over there. It’s all political saving face.”

  “That was some kiss for just political saving face.”

  “Like I could have done anything about that. He surprised me, pinned me, and you know Aram has always been pushy. He thinks there’s something more there than there is.”

  Magnus took the box from me and put it down on the counter; he gripped my shoulders and turned me to face him.

  “But there is something there?” Shit, I thought.

  “No! No,” I said, reaching up to touch his face. I stroked my thumb over his cheekbone and up along his ear. He shivered a little as he always did when I stroked his ears. “I’m dating you, Magnus; you’re the one I want. You have to trust me.”

  I leaned in softly and he let me kiss him, but he was mad so he kept his mouth tight and unyielding. I sighed, took my plate and headed over to the couch. I sat on the arm, put my plate on the coffee table and started flicking through the channels. He could either come join me or stand in the kitchen being mad. I hated to argue with Magnus, but he was very pigheaded when it came to Aram.

  “Hey look, they’re showing Interview with the Vampire, and right after that special news bulletin, how ironic is...”

  I turned to look back at Magnus. He was closer than I had expected. He grabbed my hips, pulling me against him, and pressed his mouth aggressively to mine. I gripped his shoulder, but he pushed me down on the couch, climbing over me, and pinned my wrist next to my head with his large hands. His body was so warm; I pressed my knee against his side as he ground against me. I gasped into his mouth that was determined to reclaim every inch of my lips for himself. His lips began to travel, first to my ear and then down my neck, where he bit me. I cried out as the plate on the coffee table exploded in shards that sent my dinner everywhere. I grumbled and broke a wrist free to pound against Magnus’s shoulder.

  “You jerk, you did that on purpose. Look at that mess.”

  “He doesn’t make you respond like that,” he said, proud of himself. I smacked him even harder, pushing at him till there was enough room for me to wiggle out from underneath him. I was so mad at him, possessive idiot. He should just get out a branding iron and have done, except that it wouldn’t be much fun for me—and neither was this.

  “You pigheaded testosterone-fueled jackass. Get out! Go home.”

  He blinked at me and made his eyes grow large and puppy-dog like. I got up off the couch and turned my back to him.

  “Cassandra.”

  “No. It’s not some sort of competition; which one of you can make my powers go more haywire. You know it scares me when stuff like that happens. And what would you have done if any of the pieces had shot towards us?”

  “Cassandra, I just...”

  “Just wanted to prove something,” I growled, cutting him off. “Go home, Magnus. I’m going to clean this up and just go to bed. I’ve lost my appetite.”

  I went into the back bathroom and slammed the door shut, waiting with my back against it till I heard the front door open and close. I let out a deep, angry breath. Magnus could be so childish sometimes, and it drove me nuts. I got the dustpan out from under the sink and went to clean up the mess in the living room; rice was all in the carpet. I sat picking it out for ages. I also picked at the food that would have been Magnus’s dinner too, to feed my hunger after a long day; I hadn’t really lost my appetite. I felt bad fighting with Magnus, I always did; but he didn’t have to do that, and I suppose I overreacted kicking him out. I slammed my bedroom door in frustration and climbed into bed, determined to at least get a good night’s sleep.

  Chapter Three

  I was lying in my bed and the darkness was like a second blanket wrapped around me. It was comforting, so comforting that I didn’t realize at first that I was dreaming. My dreams usually had a theme running through them—it had taken me a while to recognize it, but they were almost like portents. Things I had dreamed in abstract had come to pass in my everyday life. Then there was the bird, always in the back of my mind, flying toward me, its cry rippling through my mind.

  This dream was different from that—it was all sensation. I was lying in my bed in my own room. It started at my toes, like something was slowly working its way under the covers. Then it was lips on the bend of my knee, soft cool kisses, my knee then my knuckles, the bend of my arm, my shoulder. The weight of a body over mine made me gasp, and the lips met my
neck. I reached up, clinging to the slim shoulders of a man, feeling the billowing softness of his shirt like the hero in some period romance novel. It wasn’t often that my dreams were filled with such erotic potential, and after the fight I’d had with Magnus, I was surprised my subconscious had led me here. Teeth nipped at my ear, making me groan, and the light whisper of breath on my ear let me know my dream was about to speak.

  “I didn’t know your ear was one of your spots, pet.”

  I let my eyes fly open, gripping Aram’s curls tightly with one hand and pushing him back with a hand against his chest. I looked up at his glowing white face and fumed.

  “I thought I was dreaming...” I sounded a little more pouty than angry; it would have been quite a good dream. He smiled at me, a wicked smile that was devilishly attractive.

  “You are, pet. You are deep asleep. You wished to know my gift,” he said with light laughter in his voice and leaned down, brushing his cheek against mine. It took me a moment of him nuzzling me to get it and another to believe it.

  “So you can just waltz into my dream anytime you like? Into anyone’s?”

  “I never could with you, I tried but couldn’t until”—he leaned down and licked the scar on my neck—“I tasted you. Minute our connection was made, it was easier.”

  I shivered and smacked him in the shoulder.

  “Stop it; you know I’m with Magnus.”

  He stroked my hair back from my face and leaned into it.

  “It’s just a dream, pet; enjoy it.”

  Aram’s fingers played my ribs like an erotic xylophone. I couldn’t keep my body from twitching against him, and I growled, digging my fingers into the sheets. I started to shake my head. If it was a dream, then surely I could control what happened in it; this didn’t feel like I had any control. Could Aram make me dream about anything he wanted? There was only one thing he couldn’t control. I could wake up.

  “It’s just a dream,” I said through my teeth. “Just a dream. Wake up.” Aram pressed closer to me and I could smell him, his scent so vivid, and it was so nice. I wanted to damn him right to Hell for being so delectable. I grabbed the flesh of my arm and twisted till I screamed and sat up in my bed, alone and sweating. I picked up the phone next to the bed and dialed Dante’s, a number I knew from memory. I wondered if that was a bad sign.

  “Dante’s, Lance speaking.”

  “Hi, Lance,” I said calmly, “it’s Cassandra, I want to speak to Aram.”

  He made a quick sound to tell me to hold on while he went to fetch one of his masters. I was a little surprised when not Aram but Jareth picked up the phone.

  “Cassandra, my brother is a little busy, can I help you?” he said in his cool, calm voice.

  “I know exactly what he’s been doing. Tell him to stay the hell out of my dreams.”

  Jareth started to chuckle slightly. I growled into the phone and slammed the disconnect button. Jareth found Aram’s and my back and forth to be a source of never-ending amusement for him.

  I waited until the sun came over the horizon before I fell back to sleep. This time I dreamed of absolutely nothing.

  It was half past three in the afternoon when I woke up again. I sat up in bed stretching, and I felt so much better for a good sleep. Now that I wasn’t going to college, I’d let myself go almost completely nocturnal—I worked at night and slept during the daylight. I found it quite an easy change to make really, as I hadn’t been getting enough sleep before while trying to fit in both a day and a nightlife. It was almost kismet that my phone rang and it was Incarra.

  “Are you awake yet?” she whined at me. I looked at the screen quickly to see she had called three times and I had slept through the ring. I smiled.

  “I’m up.”

  “Coffeeeeeee,” she mewled, extending the word till it had an infinite number of e’s on the end. I laughed.

  “All right, Nero’s in a half hour. I need to get dressed.”

  She hung up, and I threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Stretching, I walked around the room picking out what to wear. Skinny black jeans, my good comfy black boots and my black v-neck sweater as I peered out the window to see that it had snowed on this side too. I grumbled. I didn’t like the winter months; the cold made every nerve in my body vibrate with an unpleasant chill. I’m a summer person through and through—I like the warm weather and the feel of sun on my skin. I put on my gloves and wrapped a blood red scarf around my neck, slipped my arm through the strap of my bag, grabbed my keys and went out.

  The elevator down seemed slow. I checked my phone for other messages and growled. Nothing at all from Magnus. He normally texted me at least to tell me he was sorry when we’d had a fight, and to be fair, we’d been having a lot of them recently. It was always over something stupid. He’d didn’t like my job, he didn’t like me going over to Dante’s, he didn’t like the flirty messages Vincent left on my answering machine when Aram had asked him to call. Aram had started asking Vincent to call me because Magnus erased messages Aram left before I got to them, which had been the basis of another fight we’d had. He did not have veto power over my answer machine.

  I exited the elevator and went straight for my mailbox. Pulling out what seemed to be mostly bills, I slipped them into my bag and bounced down the steps on my way out of the building. Incarra was shivering when I met her outside the coffee shop. She was in a dress that laced up the front with red ribbon, and the skirt fluffed out like a tutu. Her tights were artfully ripped, and she was wearing the same old canvas all-stars she always wore. She huddled into her coat with her hands thrust deep into the pockets.

  “Getting a bit of a through draft, are we?” I giggled. She glared at me; her eyes looked a little bloodshot, and her hair was a mess. Her lip curved up in a growl.

  “Very funny.”

  She stomped inside and I was left to follow her. The warm scent of coffee hit me like a slap in the face as I walked through the door, the little bell tinkling above my head. The blonde at the counter already held a coffee in her hand as we approached, and Incarra bumped her just a little as she pressed herself closer to the coffee smell, inhaling its deep aroma. Her coffee shook but didn’t spill; nevertheless, she fixed her eyes on us intently. Incarra ignored her as she pressed herself against the display semi-erotically, but I kept my eyes on the woman who looked mad enough to spit.

  “Sorry about that, but you can get back to your flirting once we’ve made our order.”

  She glared at me, and I knew that glare. I had experienced it many times before from people who could master much more subtlety than her; an insult was coming.

  “Black on black—shouldn’t you Goth wannabes be off at some santifical sacrifice?”

  I rolled my eyes toward her. Incarra’s followed, and I had to admit her stare out of bloodshot eyes added to the effect. Not only had she tried to insult us, but there was no such word as “santifical.”

  “Only if it’s yours. Incarra, you did remember the sacrificial silver blade, didn’t you?”

  “Why yes, High Priestess, I carry it always.”

  The cute barista behind the counter looked bewildered, but the blonde had to fight a physical chill that ran through her entire body before she retreated, away from the counter and right out of the shop altogether. Incarra and I rolled our eyes in unison as we turned back to the barrister, who froze.

  “One tall caramel macchiato and a grande strawberry and cream cappuccino.”

  “And a cookie,” Incarra said, staring directly into his eyes, “God help you if you forget my cookie.” He nodded shakily and dashed toward the coffee machine. I paid at the till, and we took a seat at a table near the back with two of the comfy faux-leather armchairs. An older server who didn’t look afraid to serve us brought over our drinks, but neither did he linger near our table after placing down the drinks and plate con
taining one large cookie. Incarra took a drag on her cappuccino like a smoker who’d been without nicotine for a whole month and took a bite of the cookie. After the caffeine had time to circulate through her bloodstream, it was like she was a completely different person; she even smiled.

  “So a little bird told me—” she started, but I interrupted.

  “A little gay bird named Anton.” Her smile grew just a little bit wider in response.

  “Anyway this bird, regardless of his sexuality, told me that you’ve been kicked out of college.”

  I took a sip of coffee to occupy my mouth so I could just nod.

  “How the hell did you get kicked out?”

  “I like to think it less as kicked out, but more like spectacularly departing on the end of the academic boot.”

  “Same thing.”

  I cupped my hands around my cup so the warmth of it flowed into my numb fingers.

  “I didn’t make a deadline; I didn’t have enough credits to continue without starting the year all over again. I decided instead to focus on a working life.”

  Incarra took a Zen moment with her coffee while I pulled my mail out onto the table and began sorting through the various bills. December had been a bad month. I’d not been able to bring myself to charge my last clients after I destroyed their shed and practically left a crater in the middle of their backyard. I’d ended up working with the police, but they hadn’t paid me very much in the end because D.I. Rourke was a stone-cold bitch who hated to admit I’d been involved with the work at all. It was only my face in the papers and D.I. Hamilton’s insistence that had got me paid at all. After the deductions from property damage to the witches’ house—someone had let slip it was my fault it had gotten burnt down—I was left with a pittance. The electric bill was a second reminder for payment, so what little I could spare would have to go toward that. Incarra looked at the bills from over the rim of her cup.

  “It’s that apartment, isn’t it? It’s too big for just you. I keep telling you, you can move in with me and Mom, then maybe you could go back to school and not have to worry about all this,” she said, mindlessly waving her hands over my mail.