Raven Mask

by Winter Pennington

  “How long were you in gymnastics?” I asked, changing the subject and referring to the backflip she had done when Lenorre set a beautiful dinner on the table. Rosalin’s gaze flicked nervously from my face to Zaphara, who laughed before she turned to leave the room.

  “Five years,” Rosalin said. “She wants you to top her.”

  “What?”

  “Zaphara. She wants you to top her.”

  “As in?”

  “BDSM.”

  “Yeah, I got that. She wants me to top her?”

  “Um, yeah. At least, I think that’s what she’s doing.”

  I actually laughed. “No, I think Zaphara would rather top me than play the role of the bottom.”

  “You heard what she said about having varied tastes. I know for a fact she went to see Eris once.”

  “Wait, Eris? As in the vampire Eris?”

  Rosalin nodded.

  “What does she have to do with it?”

  “She’s a pro-domme.”

  I knew a little about BDSM because I’d entertained the idea once or twice. I’d done a little nail digging and biting with the women in my past, but after being infected with lycanthropy, rough play seemed like a bad idea, especially with a human. I hadn’t been intimate with a human woman since then. Remembering what I’d done to Lenorre’s thighs and what might’ve happened if I’d lost control or if it had been closer to the full moon confirmed that not being with a human was a wise decision. Lenorre could handle me and my beast.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Eris is a professional dominatrix.”

  I stared at her. “You’re kidding me. She gets paid to spank and fuck people? Isn’t that close to prostitution?”

  She gave me a look. “Prostitution is illegal.”

  “It doesn’t mean people don’t do it.”

  “A pro-domme isn’t a prostitute. A lot of people have that misconception. A true pro-domme doesn’t have sex with her clients.”

  “She just spanks them?”

  Rosalin grinned. “And a little more, I’m sure. She’s not allowed to sleep with them. I don’t think she’d want to and Lenorre would tear her head off if she solicited uncivilized behavior at the club.”

  “She’s a pro-domme at the club?”

  “Yes.”

  I shuddered, remembering Eris’s piercing sea-green eyes. Her presence made me weak in the knees.

  Is that why she had been staring at me? Is that why she had called me a pet? I straightened my spine. I never had been, and never would be, someone’s pet werewolf.

  Rosalin was watching me intently. “It’s very professional. Both parties have to consent.” She gathered our bowls and the breadstick plate from the table. “You sign a contract and everything. A lot of the time, there’s an undercurrent of sexuality to it,” she said, “but sex is never involved. It’s more about the power exchange. The submissive gives most of their control to the dominant. For some bottoms, it’s a therapeutic release.”

  “How is giving all your control to someone else therapeutic? Doesn’t the submissive give all their power to the dominant?”

  Rosalin looked thoughtful, standing near the curtain. “It may look that way, but in reality the submissive has the power to use the safe word.”

  “Safe word?”

  “Or sign, depending on the agreement. The safe word is what protects the submissive. It keeps the dominant from going too far.”

  I leaned back in my seat, “You sound like you have experience.”

  “My ex-girlfriend was a little freaky,” she said, balancing our plates in her hands. “That’s all I’m saying.”

  When Rosalin left the room to put dishes in the dishwasher, my mind reeled. Eris was a dominatrix. Rosalin had made a valid point. Was she right? Was Zaphara pushing my buttons because she wanted me to get pissed and try to hurt her? If I hurt her, would I be doing exactly what she wanted?

  Lenorre emerged from downstairs, calling me out of my thoughts. “Rosalin, a visitor will arrive shortly. Will you escort her to the parlor?”

  Rosalin walked back into the room. “I will.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked Lenorre, searching her blank expression for an answer.

  “Eris thinks she has found the vampire that turned Timothy.”

  “Are we sure Timothy’s been turned?”

  “If he hasn’t been, why would the vampires have stolen the body?”

  I pulled my hair up. “Right. Maybe a pedophile with a thing for necrophilia is on the loose.” I dropped my hair. “Oh, Gods.”

  “What?” Lenorre looked worried.

  I shook my head. “Nope. I’m not saying that thought out loud. It’ll sound so much worse if I do.”

  “Kassandra, tell me.”

  “Just because you’re undead it doesn’t make me a—”

  “A necrophiliac?”

  I gave a slight nod.

  “I am quite sure the term is only applicable to predators that enjoy their prey cold and unmoving.” She touched my cheek gently as if trying to wipe the horror from my face. “As you said to your detective friend earlier this evening, I am undead, not dead.” She caught my wrist, placing my hand on her chest. I felt the air swirl into her lungs. “Do the dead do this?”

  “That’s the thing,” I said, “you don’t have to breathe. Hell, sometimes you don’t even have a heartbeat. It’s like you guys get this on-and-off switch.”

  “Not quite. It is only a natural part of our survival ability to shut off our bodies. It aids a vampire in hunting.” She pulled me into the circle of her arms, and I didn’t struggle or try to pull away. She didn’t feel cold and empty, which was enough to chase the thought away. The reality was she died at dawn. Well, most of the time. As far as I was concerned she was alive, not the way I was alive, but alive enough to will her own heart to beat.

  I stood on my tiptoes, offering my lips. She kissed me.

  “Better?” she murmured.

  I nodded, not needing to explain. She knew it was taking me time to get used to everything. Even before I’d been infected I hadn’t exactly been great at relationships. I loved being in them but hated having them blow up in my face. In the past, I always got with women I had absolutely nothing in common with.

  Lenorre understood me. She saw me, not what she thought I could be or what I could do for her or how I looked in the crook of her arm. I didn’t have to explain myself to her because she paid attention.

  Your lover should always see you.

  The doorbell chimed loudly through the house. I heard Rosalin open the front door and greet Eris in a soft voice. She offered to take her cloak, sounding not quite subservient but utterly polite.

  Looking at Lenorre I thought, It just might get worse.

  My fear was confirmed when Eris thanked her in a silky tone that made my stomach fall.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “It is a pleasure seeing you again, Kassandra,” Eris said, taking a seat in one of the armchairs in Lenorre’s parlor.

  I looked at her then, briefly. What was I supposed to say? I wasn’t exactly up on vampire etiquette. For some reason “ditto” didn’t seem like the polite response.

  I widened my eyes at Lenorre just a touch, letting her know she needed to jump in before I stuck my foot in it.

  Lenorre asked her, “You said you had information on a stray in this territory?”

  Eris leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs and clasping her hands in her lap. “Yes. Well, strays, to be precise.”

  “Tell me,” Lenorre said, and I was glad she’d diverted Eris’s attention. I pulled my feet under me, listening.

  “One of my patrons at the club divulged information regarding a rumor of a new and ambitious vampire in town. You should be on your guard.”

  Eris idly rolled her thumb across the arm of the chair. The dress she wore was midnight velvet, similar to the cloak she had been wearing, but where the cloak added an air of mystery, the dress clung to her skin, sh
owing off her curves. She noticed me and smiled beautifully, flashing only a little bit of fang. I looked away again, trying to keep my curiosity to myself. Rosalin shouldn’t have told me Eris was a pro-domme. I was having a hard time keeping my mind from wandering.

  Lenorre nodded solemnly, a lot calmer than I would have been. “As I had suspected. How did your patron hear of this rumor?”

  “I am not certain. You know as well as I that most of my patrons are vamp-sluts. They’ll straddle the first pair of fangs they see.” She actually laughed.

  “Vamp-slut,” I mumbled. “That’s a new one.”

  “Not really,” Rosalin said. “There’s death-banger, fang-whore, blood-bitch, coffin-thumper, coffin-bunker, fang-fucker—”

  “I get it. Are there any nice, politically correct terms?”

  “A willing donor,” Eris said coyly.

  “A fang-cushion?” Rosalin added.

  “Apparently not. Forget I asked.”

  “Only the pitiful ones get the bad nicknames,” Rosalin said.

  “Pitiful?”

  “Vamp-addicts,” she explained, “bite-junkies. You wouldn’t miss one if you saw one.”

  “No,” Eris said softly, “they’re not easy to miss.”

  I glanced from Eris to Rosalin.

  Rosalin said, in all seriousness, “They resemble a pin cushion without the pins.”

  “That’s lovely,” I said sarcastically, then asked Eris, “So one of your patrons told you about a new vamp in town?”

  “Correct.”

  I looked at Lenorre. Eris had started staring again. “What do we do?”

  “We seek out the truth. If there is a new vampire in my territory, without my permission…”

  “They’re in a shit-load of trouble.” Rosalin’s words were more blunt than Lenorre’s would’ve been, but they worked.

  “Precisely.”

  “It goes without saying you have my aid,” Eris said, her eyes on me.

  “Good,” Lenorre said. “For we shall need it.”

  “Why do you think I offered? I will see what further information I might obtain using my skills.”

  Though I was curious, I didn’t ask what those skills were. Point for me.

  Eris stood in a swish of velvet and declared, “The sun will rise soon.”

  Lenorre rose gracefully to her feet. “I will have a room prepared for your stay.” She looked at Rosalin, who, as if knowing what to do, nodded and left the room. I resisted the urge to grab the arm of her shirt and say, “Don’t leave me.”

  It took me a moment to realize Eris and Lenorre were staring at me. With the attention of two devastatingly beautiful vampires on me, I forced myself to sigh.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Are you throwing one of your infamous Halloween parties this year?” Eris asked Lenorre. The four of us were sitting in the living room in the final hour before the sun rose. Although Eris’s room was ready, she hadn’t left for it yet, much to my disappointment. And relief, which pissed me off.

  “I have considered it.”

  “You haven’t made any plans?”

  “When is Samhain?” I was trying to remember what day it was.

  “Friday,” Lenorre told me.

  “This Friday?” She nodded and I shook my head. “This schedule is really throwing off my sense of time.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Rosalin said.

  “I haven’t been to work in how many days now?”

  “I thought Rit was taking care of things?”

  “She is, but it’s not fair for me to just dump everything in her lap. I’m going into the office for a few hours tomorrow. Or today. Whatever.”

  “What do you do?” Eris asked, seeming genuinely interested.

  “Work.”

  She looked amused at my defiance.

  “Kassandra is a preternatural investigator,” Lenorre said smoothly.

  “That little business near the café?”

  My office wasn’t little. It wasn’t anything fancy either. It was work, and as long as we brought in enough income to support ourselves, most everyone at the agency seemed to agree that the establishment was fine. Besides, I liked my little two-story business.

  “I did not mean to insult you,” Eris stated.

  “None taken. I don’t have size issues.”

  “I would hope not. You are rather petite.”

  I searched her face, trying to figure out if the comment was supposed to be a joke but couldn’t tell. “Your point?”

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “Why would it?”

  “Some feel compelled to make up in attitude what they lack in physical size.”

  “She does,” Rosalin noted.

  “My attitude has less to do with my size and more to do with who I am.”

  “You’d get an attitude with someone that talks down to you because of your stature, though, right?” Rosalin asked.

  “I’d get an attitude with anyone who talks down to me for anything.” Before either she or Eris could say anything else I switched my attention to Lenorre. “Tell me about your infamous Samhain parties.”

  Lenorre pulled her legs up into the seat. “I throw one every year.”

  “Are you having one this year?”

  “I have been thinking about it. Eris?”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you think of a masquerade?”

  Eris looked thoughtful. “It’s a good idea.”

  “I hate to ask,” I said, “but don’t you think you should give people more advance notice for the party?”

  They looked at one another and Lenorre shook her head. “They will show up in costume either way.”

  “The club is open on Halloween,” Eris said. “Most will wear costumes.”

  “What about the vampires dressing in masquerade?” Rosalin asked. “They could float into the crowd, and the guests could get a shot at dancing with masked and mysterious vamps?”

  Everyone looked at her. A soft blush rose to her cheeks. “Sorry, it was just an idea.”

  “No,” Lenorre said. “It’s a very good idea.”

  “Lenorre is right,” Eris said. “I like it. A patron doesn’t often get the opportunity to spend an evening dancing with a vampire.”

  I was beginning to feel a bit like a fly on the wall. The club scene just didn’t do it for me. Lenorre decided to use Rosalin’s idea. Decked out in mysterious garb, the vampires would each pick a single date for the evening and work their magic. Not literally. Lenorre kept her charges under control. They were not to do anything illegal with their dates. They could present themselves with an air of mystery or use subtle seduction, but they were working. It was a job.

  How many people would go home that night swooning or with a pierced vein? And how could Lenorre think about a party some days away when she had stray vampires hunting and turning teenagers in her territory? Tired, I closed my eyes and let my head rest against the back of the couch. I wanted to let go of death for a while—no more dead kids, no more hunting vampires, no more calls from the police saying they had found another body. But my world revolved around all of that. Lucky me.

  “Kassandra.”

  Their conversation had come to a halt.

  I forced my eyes open, having started to doze off while they talked clothes and music.

  Lenorre stood in front of me, offering her hand.

  I took it, allowing her to help pull me to my feet. Eris stood and inclined her head, and Lenorre mirrored the gesture. In a sort of tired daze I made it to the bedroom. Once the double doors closed behind me, I started stripping, pulled on a pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt, and went to brush my teeth.

  Lenorre entered the bathroom while I was brushing. I met her reflection in the mirror.

  “They could use their disguises to their advantage.” I spoke around my toothbrush. “Your place is the only vampire club in the city and, to any other vamp, probably good hunting grounds. We might be able to trap the stray
s without having to go find them.”

  “True,” Lenorre said, propping her shoulder against the cabinet as she began to brush her teeth. “If they are so bold, then yes, my vampires will find them.” She was clearly deep in thought, so I stayed quiet as I finished my nightly routine. I didn’t want to talk about it either. It would be even better if I could get the thoughts to go away too.

  We finished getting ready for bed in silence. Lenorre had her moments of unreal quietness, but right now I sensed she had a lot on her mind. I let her have her thoughts without prying. She was a Countess. Lady only knew what kind of good publicity the vampire killing would ruin for her. Not to mention that the public would have a massive freak-out if the news broke that crazy vampires were turning teenagers. It could cause chaos and might blow up into open season on vampires, protective laws or no. I crawled into bed, snuggling into the cool sheets.

  Lenorre slid against me and I breathed a sigh of comfort and relief.

  “We will find the vampires that hurt Timothy, Kassandra, and when we do, they will pay dearly.”

  Her voice sounded lethal, but the arm she draped across my stomach was light and tentative. I took her hand, holding it close to my chest, and sank into the exquisite feel of her against me. “I know.”

  I fell asleep before the sun rose and Lenorre died.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The bell chimed softly and June, my secretary, looked up from her desk, peeking over the plastic rims of her reading glasses. Her silk blouse was the color of sun coral. She was never happy when I left someone else in charge of the agency, whether it was she or Rit. June, an older woman, had one of those attitudes that people often mistook for rudeness. She wasn’t rude. Well, okay…sometimes she was, but I didn’t take it personally. June was just very blunt. She could rip the bullshit out of anyone before they got a chance to start with her. Which is why she did an excellent job.

  “Well, well, well.” She didn’t look happy. “Where have you been?”

  I stopped just inside the doorway, trying to balance the tray of coffee cups in my hands. “Good morning to you too. I brought coffee.”

  I rested the carrier tray on my left hip, retrieving a cup. June opened her mouth, but before any words came out, I stopped her. “It’s decaf. I promise. Where’s Rit?”