I thought about calling Aram, except he wasn’t awake and he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore. He’d dumped me because I was a boring old human. Hah! If only he knew what I knew now. I might be able to survive a stake through the heart and he couldn’t. It didn’t make me feel any better, I just missed him. I missed the safety of his arms and the way he would kiss me before we’d climb into his bed. I shook my head; there was no use in torturing myself with what I was going to miss about Aram. I started to dial Virginia’s number but stopped. She had lied to me. She had known all about me and not told me. I had wondered for ages how much she really knew, she had always seemed to shut up or change the topic quickly when I started asking questions about what it was I could do. What I could do seemed to be the least of my problems. What was I, was more important? I didn’t know if I would have felt better if the doctor had been able to identify my species and I seethed as I thought the word. Who else did I have I could call? I dialed a number knowing it was a long shot.
“Hello,” said the sweet female voice.
“Bethany, it’s Cassandra.” There was silence on the other end. Bethany Silvas was half elf. She was Magnus’s younger half-sister. She and Magnus had different fathers; she lived with her father-Aziel Silvas-in the same commune that Magnus lived in. I’d saved her life and we’d been friends while I and her brother were dating. She was the only person I thought might be able to understand my situation. I was hoping her gratitude towards me for my timely rescue of her and the fact that she had liked me would be enough for her to talk to me despite the fact that I had apparently broken her big brother’s heart.
“I shouldn’t talk to you,” she said, “it would hurt him if he found out.”
“Please. I wouldn’t have called but I have to talk to someone.”
“Cassandra, I can’t, it’d be like betraying him, I can’t.”
“Please, I have no one else to talk to.”
It was too late, she’d hung up.
Chapter Five
I woke Wraith by slapping him several times which was the usual way anyone woke him when he was passed out in the far corner of his club. Wraith was red more than he was tanned like he was perpetually sun burnt. He had ratty, dirty blonde dreads and favored wearing a vest and long shorts all year round. When he opened his eyes and spoke he had a distinct Irish accent but I’d never known if it was real or if he was extremely good at putting it on. He knocked an empty bottle of whiskey from the pillows on which he was resting as he raised his hand to block out the glare of the overhead lights.
“I’m not open.” He closed his eyes and let his body go limp like he was planning on going back to sleep. I held him up by the vest and slapped him again putting a little more of that new strength I was getting into it. He woke up fully. “I’m open, I’m open.” I dropped him back onto the cushions and sat back against the railing. He sat up slowly rubbing his cheek that was beginning to swell a little with red finger marks from my hand. He gave me a rueful smile. Wraith’s club, the Dark Portal was only open whenever he felt like it. Wraith was a warlock; he specialized in potions, specifically pharma-psychological cocktails. Booze that warped your mind. He sold regular booze as well and managed to clear enough on the nights he was open not only to keep the club but restock his supplies, although I had always suspected there was something a little dodgy in the works there too.
“Cassa babe,” he said extending his arms out to encompass his club, “mi casa is su casa. Make yourself at home.”
“After that article in the Conjurer it’s the least you can do.” He gave me a grin that was somewhat sheepish. He got himself an article in what amounted to the magical Hello Magazine describing the events of last September. He’d been there-if you can call hiding like a little girl in the bushes outside being there and had made several remarks to the reporter about my talent and my boob size.
“Forgive me, I knew not what I did. That was on one of my less sober days.”
“Bullshit, you’re the most functioning alcoholic I have ever met. You’d make everyone in AA look like they just weren’t trying hard enough.”
“AA is for quitters. I’m not a quitter!” he announced proudly.
“No, just a coward.”
“Exactly.” He pulled himself up to his feet and picked up the empty bottle to swig from it and was disappointed when nothing came out. He wobbled a little looking at me. “What can I do for you anyway?”
“What you do for your regular customers. You can pour me a drink.”
* * * *
Alcohol is supposed to have this wonderful effect, it lowers inhibition, it creates a feeling of euphoria and the best bit of all was it made you forget shit. I needed to forget. I’d spent my entire life thinking I was something only to discover that it wasn’t true, that the human race did not include me. No wonder I wasn’t a freakin’ witch. I knocked back a shot of Jim Bean and smacked my glass down for another. Wraith poured it eyeing me skeptically. I’d never tried one on before and not in his bar. It was pretty much the only bar I knew of, though I never usually came there to entertain myself. Other people were filing in. Wraith had officially set off some kind of signal to let people know he was open, like the commissioner calling his Batman. I snickered at that and downed the new shot. The other patrons were beginning to call for Wraith’s attention. He tried to leave but I grabbed his arm.
“Cassa, it may not seem like it to you but this is my job and I got to serve them too.”
“Fine,” I said and snatched the bottle, “but Jimmy stays with me and if Jack wants to come along later, the more the merrier.” I discovered that I was not a happy drunk. Drink didn’t improve my mood; it just made me less coordinated while I was having a bad day already. Didn’t stop me from pouring another shot and downing it. Maybe it took a while for it to kick in especially as I was other. I had to tick that little box on the form for when they don’t cover your option. I didn’t even need to worry about doing myself any damage; my liver would probably just heal itself. I had done with the glass placing the neck of the bottle to my lips-maybe I just needed a greater and quicker infusion. I started to down the bottle. The guy two stools down from me watched this with apparent fascination. I flipped him the bird which was a clear signal that he needed to mind his own damn business.
The drunk feeling started a few minutes later in my belly, a warm sensation that spread out through my insides to my fingertips, out through my toes and finally into my head. The world became a hazy Monet painting and everything was beautiful. That had really done the trick. Wraith came back over to survey the empty bottle in my right hand and the lazy grin that had crept across my face.
“Cassa, you feeling okay?”
“Mmm, very good.” He took the empty bottle from me and looked at it forlornly.
“Jesus, Cassa, you drank the whole thing. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to get laid or something?” I smiled at Wraith and let my eyelids flutter at him.
“You know I’m good for it but that’s not a bad idea,” I said jumping off the stool and wobbling on my heels a little using my arms to get me back on balance. I swayed in place.
“What is?”
“Getting laid.” I marched towards the door.
* * * *
I ignored the queue of people outside Dante’s and the glares I got as I headed towards the door. Security knew me on sight and I looked good. I was wearing my black leather bike pants; they were tight and the sales clerk had said they hugged my butt seductively. The top I had on with a little rearranging slipped off one shoulder, it was a fierce emerald green that brought out my eyes and my bra held my boobs up making them look good too. The locket around my neck was like a signpost pointing down. I nodded to the doorman as I passed him strolling in like I owned the place and headed to the stairs. I could see Aram in his booth and there were women all over him, he was smiling and charming them. It roiled through my blood, that was until I saw Jareth.
He was dressed rather like a pirate tonight, black
shirt open so a large space of his white flesh was showing. He had a red sash tied through the belt loops of his trousers; it was beaded with purple and fuchsia beads that brought out the vivid crimson of it. His long hair was tied back loosely and he’d combed his Van Dyke. He shivered my timbers.
The only thing I had discovered about having regular intense sex was that once it stopped you were going to miss it. Your body craved it voraciously like some kind of drug. I had thought all the hype in magazines about it was just that hype. Aram had cut off my supply, so I said to myself tilting my head to appreciate his older, more mature brother; I would just get a new supplier.
I chuckled and gave a little glare in Aram’s direction even though I doubt he saw it but he did see me as I stepped out cutting across the corner of the dance floor. Jareth was only entertaining one woman who was middle aged and I could tell from the way he held his legs that he was fighting not to find a reason to excuse himself. Jareth’s eyes flicked up as I came to stand before him, I checked out of the corner of my eye to make sure that Aram was watching, which he was much to the annoyance of the girls trying to keep his attention. Jareth looked me up and down appreciatively. He gave me a very charming smile. I leaned into him, bending so that he could see down my top to the top of my breasts and the pretty lace bra they were in.
“Your offer,” I said just loud enough to be heard over the music. “Is the secrecy an integral part of it?”
He cocked an eyebrow at me looking vaguely puzzled.
“I do not understand.”
The music from the dance floor was pretty loud tonight so I guessed I was going to have to give him a visual. I mounted his lap much to the protest of the woman with him, took his face in my hands and I kissed him. His facial hair tickled and I had to fight the urge not to laugh. Jareth was stunned for a moment before his hands trailed down my back pulling me against him by pressing his hands firmly on my buttocks. I had to fight a whole other round of giggles. Aram was standing now and as I rolled my eyes up to check his face, he looked really pissed off. I gasped and looked down Jareth’s body.
“You’ve taken blood tonight.”
“I have.”
“Good.”
The next few moments became a blur of vampire speed and movement, with the alcohol fuelling my brain it was very lucky that I didn’t throw up. Jareth threw me down onto his bed, which I didn’t mind in the least and pressed himself over me. He was hot and heavy with the urgency of a repressed sexual drive unleashed. I knew then that Jareth had not bedded a woman in sometime and he was crazy desperate to get right to it. He hooked my leg up over his hip and jabbed at me with the bulge in his pants, I made a small sound which he found delightful. He was back to kissing me when his door flew open and Aram stormed in. It couldn’t have been a better screw him moment if I’d planned it. Jareth pulled back to look at who dared intrude upon him and I looked up at my former lover from under his brother’s shoulder.
“We have one small fight and you will abandon me to bed my brother,” Aram snarled angrily, there was even some spit flying around as he yelled. I smiled up at him lying back against the bed dreamily.
“I thought you were done with me.” I was being vindictive and petty. God did it feel good.
“I was angry,” he said and clearly demonstrated that he still was. Jareth moved back to his knees on the bed letting my leg drop from his grasp with reluctance.
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t say things you don’t mean,” I chided him and my voice took on a little sing song lilt. I was being so childish and it was great fun.
“I didn’t say that!”
“But you did brother, I heard you myself,” said Jareth speaking for the first time. Aram turned to him with a vicious glare in his eye.
“You dare speak to me Brutus, I turn my back for a moment and you mount my quarry.” I wasn’t sure I was happy about being called a quarry but compared to some of the other names I’d heard used for me it was a step up.
“May I suggest then that you don’t turn your back? I will not apologize. She is,” he stroked his hand up my leg as he talked which made Aram clench his knuckles, “beautiful and powerful. She is someone to keep close and if becoming her bed mate in your absence will keep our ties close, I will do it. It is not like it would be unpleasurable and there are many others who would step in brother taking her ties from us completely.” I looked at him tilting my head, lust, political maneuvering and perhaps an attempt to get Aram and I together again, Jareth was not a single layer kind of guy. He was like the Rubik’s Cube of vampires. I could never solve those; I always had to resort to rearranging the stickers.
“You are a fool, brother, if you cannot tell that she is drunk.”
“You’re a walking breathalyzer, neat trick,” I said and finally let go of the giggles I had been suppressing. Jareth turned his eyes to me, leaned over me which made Aram’s body go very tense, got close to my mouth and sniffed. I burst into laughter; it was such a canine like gesture that I wanted to accuse Jareth of being in the wrong preternatural club.
“She has been drinking,” he said surprised that he’d not noticed before but then again the blood in his body had been rushing to a different end. I sat up on my elbows to stare him in the face.
“So, you can only ravage your brother’s ex-girlfriend if she’s sober?”
“We have not parted ways, pet,” said Aram looking confused. “You are still mine. Perhaps she is possessed?” I was suddenly very bored with both of them and the booze was starting to wear off. Great, I thought, I couldn’t even get drunk like a regular person. I wanted to get drunk and stay drunk. I didn’t want to think about anything, not me and not relationship crap. I wanted to feel free. Maybe an infusion of hormones and endorphins would tide me over. I looked at the two brothers lustily.
“We’ve got some very fun options here. All at once or take turns...” Aram looked at me stunned and Jareth finally pulled back from the bed entirely getting to his feet. “Or I could watch?” Incarra had told me some wonderful stories about male on male action and its appeal, I was sure once it got started it was easier to get into. Even Jareth, who’d been calm to the point of radiating it, was now looking appalled at my behavior. I shut off the part of my brain that tried to tell me he had every right to be, I was not acting like myself. Well, myself sucked right now so I would be someone else.
“Perhaps another option. Coffee?”
I scooted to the edge of the bed and checked their faces. Neither of them was feeling even the slightest bit lusty and short of opening a serious bloody gash somewhere on my body they were not going to get in the mood. I pushed to my feet wobbling slightly.
“You boys are just no fun,” I said and although I knew I was pouting I could do nothing to stop it. I was not going to let my mood be spoiled. I couldn’t let it be spoiled, I didn’t want to face what the drunken haze was keeping from me. I needed to top up my drink. I walked straight past the pair of them that were staring at me a little aghast and went back to where the dance floor and the bar were. I topped off my alcohol levels with a couple of tequila shots and a beer. Whoever said mixing your drinks was dangerous was wrong, but then again they might not have met many people like me.
I was contemplating returning to Wraiths because he’d keep me in booze and entertainment all night-mainly because he was scared I’d whip him six ways from Sunday if he didn’t. Then I spotted Vincent. I licked my lips. Vincent may be a human but he was handsome. I looked across the floor; Jareth and Aram were both watching me. It’d really cook their gooses if I went with him. He was younger than them, below them in status and above all he was still living. I zeroed in on him like a Vincent seeking missile. He was talking to a barely legal blond, skinny to a point of being unhealthy and had a chest about the size of a thirteen year old boy. Vincent could see me coming over her shoulder; he arched a brow watching the sway of my hips and the tousle of my hair as I pulled the band out of it. He gave a nervous swallow as with a little will it flowed
out of its braid and around my body in a mahogany nimbus. I bumped the blond with my hip and when she looked at me, an indignant glare on her face, I waved my hand at her imperiously.
“Shoo!”
She departed muttering under her breath and Vincent watched her go a little sadly.
“That wasn’t nice.”
“You should thank me,” I said throwing my arms over his shoulders, “you’re getting a much better offer.” I flexed the muscles in my arms pulling my body up against his, he couldn’t help but react. He put his hands on my hips almost automatically.
“Cassandra?” Vincent looked unsure. We always did some harmless flirting but my pelvis against his was far from harmless. I leaned in to speak into his ear, my hair fell like a curtain concealing our face and from across the floor it probably looked like I was kissing him.
“Dance with me?”
When I pulled back I could see Jareth had a restraining hand on Aram’s arm. He was consumed with his jealousy and it appealed to some darkness in me, a part of me that wanted him to hurt like I was. Vincent and I pressed through the bodies to the dance floor just as the track changed. Black Velvet by Alannah Myles. It was the kind of tune to sway your hips to, smooth and seductive. I turned my back to his chest and wrapped his arms around my waist. It took him a minute to catch on to my rhythm but soon he was moving with me, pressed tight to me and happy to be there. I snaked an arm back up around his neck and stroked the tips of my fingers over the base of it. He made a sound in my ear that was almost primitive. He took my arm at his neck, spun me out and brought me back into his body facing him.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asked a little breathy. I smiled stroking my hand down between our bodies.
Inhuman Heritage Page 5