by Debra Dunbar
“Believe me, I totally understand,” I told her. “Humans are always throwing salt at me. Helloooo? Didn’t you just see me eat that bag of potato chips? What am I, a slug or something?”
Salt could actually be a problem, but only with the right ritual and a witch or sorcerer with a decent degree of power. Hardly anyone knew the appropriate ritual to summon one of us anymore, let alone trap us in a circle of salt. The inquisition had wiped out most everyone with those skills centuries ago. Of course, the elves could do it. I winced slightly with the memory.
Kelly nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard that salt thing with you guys, too. And how many times does someone have to throw holy water at us? Ruins my make-up and pisses me off. Doesn’t make me melt into a pile of goo.”
“Yeah, and I’ve clearly seen you guys out and about during the day,” I commented.
“Well, we are nocturnal,” Kelly admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll burn to dust if I have to drag myself through a day shift.”
“And the religious symbol thing?” I rolled my eyes.
“Well I was brained in the head once with a ten pound brass crucifix.” Kelly laughed. “Thing almost killed me, so maybe there is something in that legend.”
Our waiter came by at that moment and attempted to remove my wineglass.
“Oh no you don’t.” I grabbed the stem. “I want wine.”
“Yes, I know you ordered wine. I’m taking this glass though.”
His tone was very patronizing. I really didn’t care about the man’s snobby attitude, but I did love to mess with the humans whenever I could.
“Why is this glass here if it’s not for wine? Why did you bother to put it on the table, just to take it away five minutes later? I want wine, and I want it in a wine glass.”
The waiter attempted a tug of war with me. “Yes, I’ll bring you your wine in a wine glass. This isn’t the right glass. I need to bring you the wine in the appropriate glass.”
I didn’t let go. In fact, I yanked hard, practically hauling the waiter face first onto our table.
“But this is a wine glass! Why do you bother putting it on the table if you don’t use it?”
“This is a red wine glass,” the waiter said, tugging firmly and ignoring the furious looks Kelly was giving him. “It’s not the correct one for the wine you’re ordering.”
We’d already had an argument about my insistence on red wine with the clam pasta. I gave in on that one. I wasn’t giving in on this.
“I don’t care. I want my wine in this fucking glass. It’s here, and I want to use it, dammit.”
Kelly reached over with a blur of speed and pinched the waiter’s arm, ruining my fun. He jumped and looked at her, paling suddenly as he realized what he’d done. I saw red spreading on his white shirt sleeve and thought how strong she must be to break his skin with just a pinch.
“There is no need to remove the glass, Jeffrey.” Her tone was friendly, but her eyes did not look friendly. Jeffrey nodded and dashed off to the kitchen. Before I could begin to complain about her interrupting what was promising to become a brawl of epic proportions, Kelly wiggled a finger. In a shot, another vampire was at our table.
“Stephen,” Kelly said in that scary, friendly voice. “Jeffrey has proven himself to be an unacceptable waiter. Please take care of the situation.”
Ah, so this was the rival Stephen. No wonder he looked so pissed. She’d caught one of his staff behaving badly and it reflected on him personally. Plus now Kelly could rub his nose in shit even more. I had a strong feeling that Jeffrey would not live to see the light of day.
“Now, where were we?” Kelly asked with an apologetic smile.
“I take it Jeffrey is a dead man?” I didn’t really care about Jeffrey’s fate, but I was very curious about how vampires ran their society.
Kelly’s eyebrows raised. “Would you have tolerated that sort of behavior?”
“Oh we behave like that all the time. Yeah, we punish, but that’s more because we enjoy punishing than because of any need to enforce rules or standards of etiquette. It’s just an excuse to have fun with someone.” Not that we normally needed an excuse.
“With vampires, rules and codes are inflexible.” She smoothed her napkin. “If you get caught, that is. If you’re stupid enough to get caught, then you deserve whatever punishment is deemed appropriate. Even death.”
“What about Old ones? I can’t see anyone telling your master that he’s going to be staked because he flipped someone the bird.”
“Of course not,” she smiled. “Old ones, especially the Born, make the rules and are free to change them at will. If you’re on the top rung of the ladder, then you get to do whatever you want.”
I got the distinct feeling that Kelly had that top rung in her sights, that in a matter of centuries she’d be knocking others off that ladder right and left on her ascent. Forget Kyle Fournier. Did their master realize what a viper he was harboring in his bosom with this girl? She’d bide her time and not hesitate to slide a sharp stake into his back when the moment arose. Born or not.
“And that Stephen? How embarrassing for him to have this happen with one of his staff,” I commented.
Kelly’s chin rose and a light sparkled deep in her eyes. “Stephen won’t be here long.”
Yeah, he’d probably be in the bottom of a ditch. I looked at Kelly again. Pride. Ah well. She had such promise, too. Sad to see talent like this go to waste.
“So, are you Born?” I asked.
I was relatively sure she wasn’t a Born. The reminder might jar her back to reality. I thought that maybe if I put a little pin hole in that rapidly inflating ego, she’d come back from the edge before it was too late. Kelly winced.
“No,” she said, her voice flat.
“Isn’t that a hindrance?”
She squirmed a bit. “There aren’t many Born. A few Made hold territories and have families.”
“Hmmm.” I chewed thoughtfully on a hunk of garlic bread. “Is that Kyle guy down in Baltimore a Born? He’s not a bad looking dude and I think he’s got some power. Maybe you can hitch your wagon to him and have him pull you up the ladder a bit.”
Kelly sat ramrod straight and shot me a furious look.
“I do not need to hitch myself to anyone, Born or otherwise, to advance.”
Our meal arrived then and we ate in frosty silence. I was sorry that I’d smashed our budding friendship. I liked this Kelly. Liked her enough to try to put her on the right path. I may be a cockroach. I may fuck up a lot, but I’m still almost a thousand years old. I hate to see a promising vampire bite off far more than she can chew.
Chapter 21
I took off my clothes and surveyed myself in front of the full-length mirror. If Kelly didn’t hate me after our conversation at dinner, she’d definitely hate me after the activities I’d planned for tonight. With a pop of energy, I assumed the shape I had in mind. Instantly a tall, thin Scandinavian woman peered back at me. I’d Owned this woman a few hundred years ago. She’d been in her eighties when I Owned her, and I’d been pleased to see how much of a knockout she had been in her youth. If she’d been a human in current times, she’d have been a supermodel. Six feet tall with long legs and an elegant frame, she had naturally pale blond hair, ice blue eyes, and cheekbones sculptors dreamt about.
Assuming forms is a skill with varying degrees of talent. When we Own a being, we have access to all the information necessary to replicate their flesh and house ourselves in it. Some demons struggle to put together a convincing human form, no matter how many they Own. There are always slight errors, off parts.
Others can hold a human form, but only exactly as it was when they Owned it. So if they Owned a man in his nineties who was unable to walk, had erectile dysfunction, and wrinkles like a bulldog, then that is the only way they could put the form together. That‘s why most demons tended to Own healthy, attractive, young people. It was good for them to be old enough to have a lot of life experience, but not so old tha
t they had chronic incontinence or arthritis.
It took special skill to be able to assimilate the information from those that you Owned and choose how to present their form. I had this skill. I’d taken Samantha Martin when she was twenty. Younger than my preference, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I could create her form as an eight year old, or as an eighty year old, even though she’d never lived to be that age. I could create her form without scars, correct injuries and genetic abnormalities, even modify the form within some parameters.
Looking at the blond woman in the mirror, I enlarged her breasts. I didn’t want them to be ridiculous, but today’s fashion demanded a larger bosom than this woman’s genetics allowed for. Satisfied, I walked naked into the main room of the suite to grab a beer from the mini bar.
I was just pulling out a bottle when the door rattled and Wyatt walked in.
“I’ve got that bag with the timeshare stuff you wanted.” He turned to close the door behind him. “I sincerely hope you’re not going to make me sit through one of those four hour meetings just so you can score a fruit basket.”
Spinning around, he stared open-mouthed as he saw a tall, gorgeous, naked blond grabbing a beer out of the mini bar. The look on his face was priceless. Embarrassment, appreciation, confusion.
“Oh, sorry. Wrong room.” He looked around, obviously confused as to why his key worked and why this did indeed appear to be his room. I laughed.
“It’s me silly.” I put my arms above my head and modeled the form with a swing of my hips. “You like?”
“Sam? Is that new? Where have you been hiding that? Not exactly stealthy, you realize. Everyone who sees you is going to remember you.”
I pouted slightly and gave Wyatt a sultry look. His eyes went from my mouth down to the boobs and further. Clearly his mind was detouring rapidly.
“I don’t plan on walking through the lobby naked, you know. In fact, I don’t plan on walking through the lobby like this at all,” I told him.
“I’m hoping you don’t plan on leaving the room,” Wyatt said, his voice husky with desire. “At least for an hour or two.”
I walked over to him and kissed him lightly, pushing away the hands that grabbed to pull me close. “Later,” I teased. “Can you stay in the room for the night and cover for me while I give my minder the slip? I know you’ve got an early morning, maybe you can get caught up on some sleep?”
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to get to sleep at all tonight.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Five minutes, Sam. That’s all I’m asking here is five minutes.”
“Later.” I bent over to pick up the canvas bag of timeshare materials he’d tossed on the floor, making sure to give him a full view just to taunt him further. I hadn’t realized how much human men enjoyed diversity in physical form. I’d need to let Wyatt fuck me as all my Owned females. It would take years.
“So you really think you can ditch your minder?” he asked me, still eying my breasts. “There’s a rather large guy, a vampire I’d guess, lurking around our room in the hallway. I can’t imagine you’d give him the slip no matter what form you assumed. Plus this place is covered in cameras. None in our room, but there’s one right outside pointed at the door.”
“Our escape plans hinge on me being able to somehow sneak out. I don’t know how things are going to go down with the vampires, and there are two demons here determined to grab me right after my meeting on Sunday.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to confront the demons here? If we run, they’re more likely to ambush us. I thought you’d want to take the offensive?” Wyatt asked.
“I could probably only take out one before I lost the element of surprise. I’m not sure who the vampires would support if I attacked a demon and we blew up part of their business interest. Having them gunning for me would seriously hurt my chances. Plus, one of the demons is very strong, with a lot of experience in bringing in captives. I’d rather face him at home with Boomer and Diablo to back us up.”
Wyatt nodded thoughtfully, watching me as I pulled some clothes out of the dresser drawer.
“Hey, those are my clothes,” Wyatt protested. “I didn’t pack those”
Humans were so slow on the uptake.
“I grabbed them from your closet back home. If I lose them or ruin them, I promise I’ll replace them.” I’d replace them with better clothes then the stained t-shirt and worn jeans I’d grabbed.
“I like those jeans,” Wyatt warned. “And there’s no way they’d fit you, either in your regular form or the one you’ve got on right now. Which is totally hot, by the way,” he added, his eyes roving over me.
I looked at Wyatt and with a grin, quickly popped out of my tall, blond female form and into one that was as close as I could come to Wyatt’s without actually Owning him. He stared at me in shock.
“I didn’t think you could do that unless you Owned someone? Did you kill me and I don’t remember it?”
“No, no,” I reassured him. “You’re still alive.”
I’d explored so much of him, touched and held so much of his genetic composition, that I was pretty confident in my ability to fake an imitation. It was far from perfect. Without his memories, his emotions, his personality, it would only be a cheap copy.
He looked at me carefully, walking around the naked copy of his flesh. “I think I need to work out more.”
“You’re perfect.” I kissed him. He recoiled. I guess it wasn’t very sexy to be kissing yourself.
“Vampires don’t give humans a second glance, they are just an animated dinner as far as they are concerned. I’m betting Mario won’t follow me at all if he thinks you’re the one who has left the room. I’ll pack a change of clothes and some makeup and heels in the timeshare bag he saw you come in with and change form in another casino. Hopefully they’ll never know I’ve left.”
Understanding sparked in Wyatt’s eyes. “What do you plan on doing with your night out on the town?”
I shrugged. “I’m thinking of smacking the bee’s nest with a big stick and seeing what happens.”
Wyatt grinned. “I’d guess that bees are going to come out and sting you rather painfully.”
“Yep.” I stuffed heels, a dress, and a small make-up bag into the canvas sack. “But a few stings might be worth it. If I’m going to get out of here in one piece, I need to know all I can about how they handle things. Especially how they handle an unruly demon.”
“Okay.” He backed up as I went to kiss him again. “I’ll stay here for the night, safely out of sight in the room, but you seriously need to have sex with me as that blond woman. Deal?”
“Deal,” I told him, heading out the door.
Mario glanced at me as I passed as if I were just another random guest. I wondered if he even recognized Wyatt as my human, or if they all looked the same to him at this point.
Grinning to myself, I took the elevator down and strolled right out the front door, past all the staff, past the bell hops, past the doormen. Home free. I walked a few doors down, slipped into another casino, bought a drink, and then strolled into the men’s bathroom casually holding my canvas timeshare bag like a tourist out for an evening stroll. I peed in the urinal, just to enjoying urinating while standing, then disintegrated the screws holding the cover on the air conditioning vent. I left the vent cover on, went into a stall, and stripped, quickly popping into the tall blond form that Wyatt had so admired. A tube-like, skin-tight dress slipped over my lithe body, and I stepped out of the stall. I was putting on make-up in the mirror when a man walked in, doing a double take as he caught sight of me.
“Oh, sorry. I thought this was the men’s room.” He looked at the open door in confusion. It clearly said ”Men.” I giggled like I’d had too much to drink and faked a thick accent.
“Oh no. I am not so good at reading right now.” I batted my long, mascara-dark lashes at him and tossed my waist length, blond hair. “It’s okay for you to be here. I want to finish my make-up.”
&
nbsp; He looked me over slowly, still holding the door open in indecision, his brain working through the alternatives. He could try to pee in front of me, or he could go into a stall. Or he could stay and chat me up. Fear and insecurity won over, and, making his apologies, he left the bathroom. Human men were so strange sometimes.
Finishing my make-up, I stashed the canvas bag with Wyatt’s clothes, along with the cosmetics, in the air conditioning vent, making sure to seal it back up. Then I strutted out of the men’s room. Every eye in the place swiveled to follow me as I made my way across the floor.
After a couple hands of blackjack, quite a few people had begun to follow me as I meandered around the casino, and I ensured the security cameras caught me on their tape. Then I headed out and asked a doorman to hail me a cab to the club Wyatt had indicated was the latest hot spot.
Bon Chance was tucked away in the warehouse district in an old import/export wholesaler’s building. The exterior was chipped cement block with sprayed graffiti announcing the club’s name. It looked like it was about to collapse down on the patrons’ heads. There was a line a block long snaking between the side of the building and a ratty velvet rope. I stepped out of the cab and walked right up to the bouncer, who promptly moved the rope and let me in. No one protested. Evidently six foot tall, blond supermodels got to line bust. Inside, everything shocked the senses. The outside was dilapidated, but on the interior, no expense was spared. Lights flashed across the huge dance floor which sat nestled partially under a raised dais. Off to the side behind glass was the DJ, barely visible in contrast with the sensory overload of the rest of the club.
Two bars ran the span of the converted warehouse on either side of the dance floor. Mahogany and gilded marble covered the bar, the walls, the floor. It was a strange mix of modern and classic, of rich natural materials and steel girders. Everything jarred visually in a dizzying confusion.