Anita Blake 12 - Incubus Dreams

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  “I’ve run into that rumor,” I said. “You know what you were doing, and who, so what does it matter?”

  He let out a shadow of that inarticulate scream he’d done before. “Anita, how do you think I feel when almost every leader in this town that I have to do business with thinks I’m shagging the Master of the City?”

  “Are you saying that people thinking you’re bisexual hurts your standing as a leader?”

  “Yes.”

  “It doesn’t seem to hurt Jean-Claude’s,” I said.

  “That’s different.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He made fists, and that hurt, and he made that sound again. “You don’t understand, Anita. You’re a girl, and you don’t understand.”

  “I’m a girl, and I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

  “It means it’s still more socially acceptable for a girl to be bisexual than it is for a man.”

  “Who says?” I asked.

  “Everyone!” His anger flared outward like hot water, and it was about waist high, and rising.

  “You’re homophobic,” I said.

  “I am not.”

  “Yeah, you are. If it didn’t bother you so much that people thought you were bisexual, then you wouldn’t care what they said. You’d know the truth, and it would be enough.” I moved closer to him, pushing through the heat of his power, his anger, his frustration. “Besides, what’s wrong with being bisexual, or homosexual, or whatever? What does it matter, Richard, as long as you’re happy and no one is getting hurt?”

  “You don’t understand,” he said.

  I was standing close enough to touch. Standing so close that his power bit and sizzled almost against my skin, as if the robe wasn’t there. God, he was so powerful, more than the last time I’d touched his power. He’d gained from Jean-Claude and me, just like Jean-Claude had, like I had. If we could get our triumvirate to truly work the way it was meant to, no one would touch us, no one would dare.

  That one thought wasn’t my thought, not exactly. Jean-Claude wasn’t awake yet, I’d have felt it, but the thought was more his than mine. I remembered last night at the club, and how we’d been joined tighter, closer, than ever before. I’d done things last night that hadn’t been possible before. I’d reached new levels of power both with Jean-Claude and with my own abilities. I’d also had sex with a vampire I’d known less than two weeks, and only Requiem’s gentlemanly ways had kept it to one. That wasn’t like me, and standing this close to Richard’s pain, I was thinking about the power and not the cost to him. That wasn’t like me either. But they were both very like Jean-Claude.

  “What’s wrong?” Richard asked. “You’ve thought of something.”

  “Just wondering what other parts of Jean-Claude I’m carrying around inside myself.”

  “You told me, the ardeur, the blood lust.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never been very practical with relationships, or sex, and lately, like the last twenty-four hours, or so, I have been. At least a lot more practical than I’ve ever been before.”

  “Is it true that you had sex with two of the new British vampires at Guilty Pleasures last night?”

  “My, my, the rumor mill does grind fast.”

  He relaxed, some tension going out of him. “Then it was just a rumor.”

  I sighed, and was getting tired of doing that, but it seemed like Richard just brought it out in me. “Half true.”

  “Which half?” he asked.

  I didn’t like the look on his face. It wasn’t angry exactly, which should have been an improvement, but it wasn’t neutral either. “One vampire, not two.” I shook my head. “But you know what? I don’t think I owe you an explanation, Richard. I don’t keep track of the swath you’re cutting through your own pack, and Verne’s pack when you’re in Tennessee.”

  He was looking at me, studying my face, as if he was trying to figure out what I was hiding. “If you weren’t ashamed of it, then you’d just tell me.”

  “Richard, you aren’t my dad, or my boyfriend. I don’t owe you an explanation about who I do, or don’t, sleep with.”

  “You slept with Nathaniel for four months before you had sex with him. What changed? Why these two vampires, why now? I heard it was a hell of a show last night, what the hell happened?”

  “Are you asking from some macho possessiveness?”

  “No, as the third of your triumvirate. Or should I say, one of your triumvirates?”

  As the third of our triumvirate he had a right to know how close we’d come to losing control of Primo and some other choice bits. He had helped me last night, even if it had gone wrong, he’d tried. He’d really tried.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed, and he sat on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest, while I gave him a thumbnail sketch of the near disaster and an edited version of what I’d done to help Jean-Claude feed. I didn’t leave much out, I just didn’t elaborate.

  “I can’t believe you fucked Byron. I didn’t even think he liked girls.”

  “He took one for the team,” I said, and tried to keep the irony in my voice to a minimum.

  He actually blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, if I was shopping for men for you among the new vampires, he wouldn’t have been high on my list.”

  “Truthfully, he’s not high on mine. I mean he’s a nice enough guy, but as a friend, not as more.”

  “Then, why?”

  “He was the person that was there, Richard. If I accidentally sucked someone’s soul out through their mouth, Jean-Claude thought I’d be less cut up if it was Byron and not Nathaniel.”

  “Is Primo like some kind of Trojan horse?” he asked, and him asking that made me think better of him, lots better. It was a very good question.

  “You mean did the Dragon let Jean-Claude have Primo so she could try and take over here?”

  “Or just cause enough destruction that Jean-Claude got up on charges. Or his business was ruined, something. From what Jean-Claude’s been hearing from Europe, the council isn’t too happy with him.”

  It must have shown on my face, because Richard said, out loud, “I have been paying attention Anita.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I didn’t think you had.”

  “I admit I wasn’t before, maybe like a month before, but I am now. I told you, I’ve decided to live and not die by inches. That means I’ve got to pay attention to business, and I may not like it. I may hate it, but being part of this triumvirate is business.”

  “I don’t know about Primo. He might be, as you so aptly put it, a Trojan horse. I left one of the wererats on guard outside his coffin. I gave orders that if Primo breaks out, he’s to be killed. No third chances, because he’s already on his second.”

  “Why would Jean-Claude bring in something that dangerous?”

  “I saw Primo fight, and I saw him heal more damage than any vampire I’ve ever seen heal. It was impressive. We’ve got a lot of powerful vamps, but most of them are Belle’s line, and that runs high to beauty, seduction, which is great for the clubs. I mean we have some really choice people to strip and to dance with the tourists at Danse Macabre, but if we had a war, a real war, then we have almost no soldiers.”

  “You have the wolves,” he said, “and through two treaties, the wererats.”

  “Yeah, but it’s unusual to have such close ties with other groups. Vamps scouting us for takeover won’t count beyond the wolves. It won’t occur to most of them that a treaty with an animal that isn’t the master’s to call will come through when the going gets tough.”

  “So you approve of Primo being here?”

  “No, definitely not, not after last night. I think we should shoot his ass, but I understand why Jean-Claude took the chance. We need some vamps that can fight, not just look pretty.” As if on cue, the door opened, and it was my favorite pretty vampire.

  56

  « ^ »

  We both turned to look at the door, though my turn
was less turny than Richard’s. Jean-Claude was in the doorway wearing the black robe I was so fond of. The one that was edged with real black fur at the lapels, and framed his pale chest so nicely. His long black curls had been combed out, so that he looked fresh and lovely. I still needed a shower. Oh, well.

  “I didn’t feel you wake. I always feel you wake.”

  “You are both shielding very, very hard,” he said, as he strode into the room. His bare feet were very pale against the dark carpet. “I heard your last comment, ma petite, should I take it as an insult?”

  “Sorry, but we need soldiers not seducers. We’ve got plenty of those.”

  He gave that wonderful Gallic shrug that meant everything and nothing. It was a graceful movement. Sometimes I wondered if shrug was the right word. If what Americans do is a shrug, whatever Jean-Claude did wasn’t the same.

  “I told your Nathaniel to go and feed his new and surprising form. He will be even more popular when the ladies see this new shape of his.” He was being very pleasant, very casual. His face held a smile, and his movements were graceful and a little flamboyant. He was hiding something. I’d learned long ago that this wasn’t the real Jean-Claude. This was one of his many faces that he used when reality would be too harsh, or too shocking, or too something.

  “What’s up, Jean-Claude?”

  “Whatever do you mean, ma petite?” he asked, and came to sit down on part of the bed near me. Part that I’d removed the sheets from, so we were sitting on the relatively clean mattress. The bed bobbed unevenly as he settled on it. He looked at Richard, as the bed moved oddly. “I think you are going to owe my pomme de sang a bed frame, Richard.”

  Richard actually had the grace to look embarrassed. “I lost my temper, I am sorry for that. I’ll replace the frame.”

  “Good,” he crossed his legs, one a little higher than it needed to be, so he could lace his hands around the knee, and expose a line of pale leg. Was he flirting. No, that wasn’t it.

  It wasn’t me who said the next part, but it was like my thoughts came out Richard’s mouth—scary. “Cut the act, Jean-Claude, just tell us what’s happened now?”

  The face he gave us was way too innocent. “Whatever do you mean, mon ami?”

  Richard and I exchanged glances that said worlds. Richard spoke for us. “No games, Jean-Claude, remember.”

  “You are beginning to sound painfully like ma petite.”

  “Thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  That earned him a smile and a nod from me.

  Richard smiled at me, and it was the first real smile I’d seen on him since he stepped into the room. It was good to see it, and I found that I had one of my own to give back. There, we were all being friendly.

  “You’re doing your flamboyant, happy, casual act,” I said. “Cut the act, and tell us what’s up.”

  “You do realize, ma petite, that Richard has become almost as blunt at times as you are.”

  “And I’m starting to have moments when I sound like you, Jean-Claude. Let me guess, the closer binding last night has had some interesting side effects.”

  “Not just us being closer, ma petite, but your binding of a new triumvirate to you. That has upped the side effects, I believe.” His face was still lovely, but the nearly pretentious movements were fading, changing to a seriousness that I didn’t like seeing. He wasn’t happy about something. I didn’t know what it was, but it had to be something that he either thought both, or at least one of us, really wouldn’t like.

  He started by confessing that my being willing to do Byron and feed Requiem was probably his less-finicky tastes coming out through me. I stopped him before he got through it. “If I hadn’t fed on Byron and Requiem, you wouldn’t have had enough energy to control Primo. He would have slaughtered the audience. My virtue versus the lives of dozens of people, hmm, let me think.” I shrugged. “It’s okay, though I’d rather not make a habit of it.”

  “You surprise me, ma petite.” But he relaxed against the bed. His posture was still perfect, a lot of the old vamps had good posture, but it was more relaxed all the same.

  “I’ve learned that a little sex isn’t a fate worse than death, Jean-Claude.”

  “Is that all?” Richard said. “Or is there more that you’d rather we don’t know, but feel that we need to know?”

  “See, see, he is like you now. Two of you, I do not know if I can—”

  “Just tell us,” I said.

  He gave me a small frown. “You seem to have figured out that we are mixing and mingling our abilities in more than just a metaphysical way. I do not know all we will gain, or lose, depending on how one looks at it, only that it is happening.”

  “I think that Nathaniel and I traded a little dominance and submission.” I saw the look on Richard’s face, and added, “I mean that ever since we became a triumvirate, Nathaniel seems a little more dominant, and I seem to enjoy being a little more submissive. Admittedly, Nathaniel was trying to be more dominant before, but he really seems to be taking to it.” Saying it made me want to squirm with discomfort, but I fought it off. I’d be damned if I’d apologize even by a gesture. I’m nothing if not defiant, especially if I’m uncomfortable.

  “Then, apparently, we can expect a mingling of our basic personalities, as well,” Jean-Claude said, and he tried for casual and failed.

  “This could get really strange,” I said, and it was my turn to draw my knees up to my chest, though for Richard, I think it had been comfortable, for me it was comforting myself.

  “Is that all the bad news?” Richard asked, and looked directly at him.

  “I do not see it as bad news, mon ami, but the two of you might.”

  “Spill it,” I said, knees hugged to my chest.

  “You have turned my pomme de sang into his animal form, one of them anyway. I, like you until recently, prefer my food without fur.”

  I did my best not to look at Richard. “Who did you have in mind?”

  “Requiem told me of the amount of blood you lost last night, ma petite. I think it is wiser if you do not donate more quite so soon.”

  I heard Richard’s sigh from where I was sitting, and he wasn’t sitting that close to me. “I would say it’s always me, but it’s usually not. I know that Anita isn’t your regular feed, but I know she lets you feed.” He put his face against his knees and sighed again. “Fine, but only if Anita is here, too. No just you and me.”

  “Define Anita being with us?”

  “That’s not what I said,” Richard said.

  “Is that not what you meant?” Jean-Claude asked.

  Richard seemed to think about it for a second, then gave a small nod. “I guess it is, but hearing you say it, it seems—”

  “I’ll second Jean-Claude’s question, define me being with you guys.”

  Richard blushed. He didn’t blush often, and this was two in one conversation. “I don’t mean it the way you make it sound.”

  “Then tell us how you do mean it, mon ami.”

  “I don’t want. I mean…” he made that sound again, wordless, frustrated. “Why is it that every time I do anything that includes both of you, I always end up feeling like I’m wrong?”

  I made one of those mental leaps, because I was remembering Richard’s problem with everyone thinking he was, or had been, doing Jean-Claude. I decided to rescue him. He was, after all, going to open a vein for Jean-Claude. That deserved some consideration, considering that his rules about feeding vamps used to be the same as mine. Richard was still trying to explain, and failing.

  “Look, I understand what Richard is trying to say.”

  They both looked at me. Richard doubtful, and Jean-Claude amused, as if he, too, understood Richard’s discomfort, but couldn’t afford to let the other man see that he saw it. Or maybe something else amused him, you never can tell with Jean-Claude.

  “You don’t want it to be just the two of you when Jean-Claude feeds,” I said.

  Richard looked relieved, a
nd nodded.

  I did not say out loud, no you’re not homophobic, because if Richard wasn’t as comfortable with having another man touch him, then he was entitled. I’d never fed a female vamp voluntarily, so who was I to bitch?

  Jean-Claude’s smile deepened just a touch. “And why is it such a problem for it to be just the two of us?”

  I gave Jean-Claude a dirty look, and Richard was back to not knowing how to explain. “Jean-Claude, you know the old American saying, about not looking a gift horse in the mouth?”

  “Oui.”

  “You’re checking this one’s teeth.”

  He laughed, that touchable laugh, which, even through the hardest shielding I had, made me shiver, and not from fear. I caught Richard’s movement out of the corner of my eye. He’d shivered, too. For the first time, I wondered how much of Jean-Claude’s abilities worked on Richard. I was terribly heterosexual, and sometimes I just didn’t think outside that box. Richard didn’t like boys, so Jean-Claude didn’t affect him the way he did me. That’s what I’d believed, now I wondered if Richard had more problems with Jean-Claude than I’d thought. If you were terribly hetero, but Jean-Claude’s powers could affect you, you had a problem if you were a man. The fact that it had never occurred to me before, proved beyond a doubt that sometimes I just wasn’t bright about the men around me.

  “But before we get up close, I’ve got to get this stuff off of me. It’s flaking, and I just don’t feel clean.”

  “That would give us time to have the sheets changed, perhaps,” Jean-Claude said. He touched the drying, caked sheets. “I have never seen a bed where more than one lycanthrope has shifted. It is, how do you say, a mess.”

  His English was better than that, even for slang. He was back to being pleased with himself, and I didn’t know why. If I dropped shields enough for him to talk inside my head, I’d also have more of Richard in my head. I didn’t want that, so I’d have to ask him later, or I’d figure it out. Whatever.

  “I’ll make the shower quick,” I said, and started for the far door.