by C. P. Foster
James nodded. He didn’t say good-bye or even good night. She gave him one more smile, then turned and made her way up the ramp to board the ferry headed for home.
Chapter Eleven
Only a handful of the Fallen have made themselves known to the public. The ones I’ve spoken with claim they are extremely rare, less than one for every fifty million people on earth, but to date I have found no way of verifying the data.
—Angela Clark, PhD, excerpt from doctoral dissertation
White-gold sunlight blazed across Reno, Nevada, where it nestled against the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Its brilliance robbed the neon signs of their power. The city looked its best at night, or at least its gaudiest. During the day, the casinos and billboards lost their glamour.
Angie gazed at the mountains from her vantage point atop a downtown condominium. The roof was a garden, lush with greenery and flowers not native to the desert. Its owner must spend a fortune on the upkeep. She sat in a comfortable chair, a glass of lemonade next to her on a wrought-iron table, shaded by the leaves of a potted tree.
On the other side of the table a man sat with his legs crossed, one arm resting close enough to her glass that she might accidentally touch him when she picked it up, if she didn’t pay attention. He wasn’t really a man at all, however much he might look like one. James had told her what to expect. She’d seen photographs, too, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality.
He had brown-black hair, fair skin, and cobalt blue eyes. Slender, about six feet tall, perhaps an inch or two more. So beautiful he was almost feminine, but not quite. The angles of his face and the breadth of his shoulders were purely male. The physical package had been deliberately designed for seduction. When the Fallen left the heavens to take on a flesh-and-blood body, they crafted it like a sculptor shaping clay into a masterpiece. But there was something more to their allure than the body itself, and Aaron was the perfect example of that illusive, attractive quality. An aura of sensuality surrounded him, fogging her mind and awakening an awareness of her own body that made her want to shift in the chair.
Yes, James had warned her. But she was used to dealing with vampires. Not with this.
The Fallen actually had a lot in common with them and were sometimes called sex vampires because they fed from the pleasure they gave and received in equally lavish measure. But they didn’t often kill. They didn’t terrorize or torture, unless you considered endless hours spent in a delirium of pleasure to be torture. Nor did they take their prey by force. They wanted willing partners, not victims, and were very good at getting them.
“Do you have any questions about the consent form?” she asked.
They had spent some time going over the form, which outlined the purpose of the research, what he could expect, who would have access to the interview and notes, and numerous other details. While he read through it one more time, Angie took a digital video recorder from her backpack. In her grad student persona, she used it instead of a briefcase. Her clothes were casual, too—a sweater over a tank top, jeans, and Birkenstocks.
Aaron inclined his head. “You’ve been very thorough. However, I cannot sign this as it is.”
“Why not?”
“This section.” He pointed to a particular paragraph. The passage in question was an agreement on his part not to seduce or to have sexual relations of any kind with her. Anthropologists who slept with their study participants would have hell to pay if anyone found out. “I can try, but there is no guarantee I will succeed in reigning myself in. And, to be honest, I have no desire to do so. If you wish to interview me, it is a risk you shall have to take.”
She should have suggested they rent a room with an intercom, so she could interview him from a safe distance. He was already affecting her so much, though, that she couldn’t even conceive of such an idea. Angie found herself nodding. “We’ll just cross that out and initial it, then.”
When they had both initialed the change and signed the agreement, Angie concentrated on setting up the little recorder. Thank God she’d written down her questions in detail. Without her notes, she wouldn’t have remembered what she’d wanted to ask. Now she got them out and forced herself to focus.
“Aaron White,” she began. “That’s the name you go by now. What were you called when you first took on human form?”
He studied his fingertips as he replied, “Amon.”
“Isn’t that one of the Judeo-Christian fallen angels?”
“It always amuses me to see how we fit into the religions and folklore human beings create for themselves. To the children of Abraham, we were divine beings who rebelled against their God. There is a seed of truth in that, I suppose.”
His wistful smile made her want to take his hand. Instead she picked up her glass and had a long drink.
“You’re talking about stories written over three thousand years ago. Is that how old you are, in this form?”
“I left the heavens nearly four thousand years ago.”
“What made you choose to take on a human body?”
Aaron turned to meet her eyes. “You, the children of the earth. Most of my race stays high in the atmosphere, exulting in the radiance of the sun, but some of us dive deep through the clouds to see what is below. For a few, the sight of you is irresistible. You are like a drug that addicts us the moment we see you.”
The way he stared at her, she felt as though she personally were the reason he had come to earth to live among humans. No doubt he had the same effect on any woman, or man for that matter, who caught his interest. “I’ve heard you don’t eat or drink like human beings do.”
“We feed ourselves in other ways.”
“Through sex.”
His gaze traveled down, lingering at her hair, her throat, and her breasts. When he had worked his way back to her face, he answered, “Yes.”
She blushed. Angie hadn’t thought herself capable of it anymore, but apparently she was. It brought a knowing smile to his lips. She found herself staring at them, her own parted in unconscious invitation. When the edge of his hand brushed hers, she actually shuddered. “Are you doing that on purpose?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Doing what?”
“Arousing me.” Angie’s voice deepened to contralto.
“Perhaps.”
“So you can control it.” The analytical part of her managed to make itself heard, just barely.
“To an extent. I can dampen it if I wish, but never completely contain it. Or I can make it stronger.”
“Stronger?”
He didn’t move, just looked at her, and suddenly there was nothing in the world that mattered but his body, his skin, his lips…She closed her hand around the edge of the table that separated them, intending to toss it aside, but at the last second she caught herself and gripped its metal rim hard. Angie ducked her head to keep from looking at him.
“Stop,” she whispered.
“Do you really want me to?” His voice was so close he must be nearly touching her.
Angie clenched her teeth. “Please!”
The Fallen drew back, and desire faded to a murmur. She kept her head down until her breathing returned to normal. When she looked up, she found him watching her with a smile that had turned bittersweet.
“I can make you want me,” he sighed, “But you don’t want to want me.”
“I came here for an interview, Mr. White. I’m trying very hard not to forget that.”
“I see.” He cocked his head. “And when I have answered all your questions?”
Her hand trembled as she let go of the table, picked up her glass, and drained the last of it. Angie opened her mouth. She meant to tell him it would skew the results of her research and probably get her kicked out of the doctoral program if anyone found out. Instead, she heard herself answer, “I won’t say no.”
“I will hold you to that.” His eyelids lowered a degree, and one corner of his mouth rose.
She wanted to get up and put some distance between them,
but the recorder wouldn’t capture her voice if she moved any farther from it. Angie had to think for several seconds before she could come up with her next question.
“Well, we’ve established that you can arouse sexual desire to an, ah, astonishing degree.” There she was, blushing again. “What other things can you do that humans can’t?”
Aaron slouched in his chair, stretched out his legs, and crossed them at the ankles. He folded his hands over his stomach. “We are beings of light and air. When we wed ourselves to the earth and water of flesh, we lose much of our true nature, but we still have some influence over our elements.”
A breeze stirred, making the leaves of the potted trees whisper around them. It lifted her hair and bared the nape of her neck before dying down.
“Air,” she murmured. “And light? You have some power over that?”
“During the day, I absorb the sun, and at night I become its moon.”
“You craft flesh and blood bodies out of earth and water, in order to interact with humans. Is it true you have internal organs, nerve endings, hair follicles, and everything else, just like ours?”
“We make ourselves as close to the real thing as possible, down to the smallest of cells. Except for the nerve endings. These are enhanced to be more sensitive. We feed on the pleasure you give us, and that we give you, so the more intense the sensation, the richer the food.”
Angie realized a few moments later that she was just staring at him, with no coherent thought in her head. She cleared her throat and looked away. It took a few seconds to remember she’d been asking about his supernatural abilities.
“Can you continue shaping your body, like the clay from which you created it?”
Aaron gave her a considering look. “Yes, but we rarely do. It is uncomfortable and takes time.”
“How much can you change?”
“More than your plastic surgeons can.” His gaze moved over her. “That is not the face you were born with. Why did you alter it? You don’t strike me as a vain woman. In fact, you made your breasts smaller, when most women today do the opposite, and there are other…this must have taken many surgeries. You look nothing like the woman nature intended.”
Angie froze. Her surgeons were the best in the world. No one should have been able to guess what they had done. It unnerved her to have one of her secrets laid bare to this creature. What might he do with it? She considered her words carefully. Revealing anything would give him more power over her than he already had.
“I was injured,” she explained. “It was necessary to rebuild everything.”
His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “No, that is a falsehood.”
“Why do you say so?”
“We see the structure of the human body from marrow to eyelash. The bones in your face have never been broken. You have never sustained the sort of damage you claim. And now I find myself wondering why you have lied to me.”
Fear crept through her, and she drifted away from the feeling, out of reach, where she could think.
“I meant no insult,” she told him quietly. “But my reasons are my own.”
“You have many questions for me. Why should I not have some for you?”
“There are questions you may choose not to answer. I will respect that. Please respect my silence on this.”
She couldn’t guess at the thoughts going through his head. Did thoughts go through his head? Before he took a human body, where had his thoughts resided? Aaron studied her long enough that she had to exert self-control to keep from squirming. At last he nodded. “Very well, I shall ask you another. Why do you wish to study us?”
There was no easy answer. The most obvious reason, her early experiences with vampires, was not something she wished to reveal. After some deliberation, she said, “There are powerful beings in the world, beings like you that have been here all along but are only now beginning to make themselves known. If we are all to live together, we must come to understand each other. And, quite honestly, I find you—Fallen, elves, vampires, djinn, merfolk—thoroughly fascinating. I want to know you.” She paused and then added, “Why did you agree to this interview?”
Aaron tilted his face to the sun and closed his eyes. “I am growing old, even for my kind. My interest in this flesh has begun to wane, and as it does I find myself wanting to leave something more behind than millions of orgasms and the fond memories of my lovers. You wish to understand me, and I suppose I wish to be understood. So, shall we get on with it?”
“Yes.” Angie referred to her notes and began the interview in earnest.
Interview notes:
Subject Aaron White, one of the Fallen, is approximately four thousand years old. He appears to be a man in his prime. He has studied what our culture considers the epitome of male beauty and has sculpted his body accordingly. Changes are made as the fashions change or when he moves to a part of the world where male standards of beauty differ. I am not certain how much his appearance matters, however, as he emits a supernatural sensuality that causes sexual arousal in anyone nearby. He may choose to appear attractive from a distance in order to draw his prey into range.
His description of how the Fallen create their flesh-and-blood bodies is more poetic than scientific. For instance, he says they are made of earth and water, and they construct their physical form from the cellular level. They then inhabit that body, animating it with the “light and air” of their true form. From this I postulate that they gather the solid elements that constitute a human body, arrange them into the complex structure of human cells, and put those cells together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. They enter those bodies and animate them with the energy of their true form. It would be interesting to see forensic studies on how their bodies work, but to date none have agreed to examination. Does the “light and air” of their true form translate into the air the human body needs to survive? Or is it something beyond our understanding of the natural world that allows them to move, breath, and copulate?
Aaron claims his appetites have begun to wane, and that this is something that comes from age. What causes it to happen? Sexual desire in humans fades as they grow older, but that is a result of the physical process of aging. The Fallen’s bodies do not age, however. Does the “light and air” of their true form change in a similar way?
Some hours later, after the sun had reached its zenith and begun to descend, she found herself staring at him more and more often. He had taken off his shirt to better bathe himself in its rays and clearly took pleasure in this. His abdominal muscles were well defined. Not the cobblestone lumps of a gym rat, but a more subtle outline of their shape. His chest was hairless, and the muscles of his shoulders and arms were filled out but not bulky. The sight of his body drew her again and again until she could hardly bear to look away. She could almost feel his skin beneath her hands.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t usually go so long without sustenance. It’s harder to control myself the longer I abstain.”
Angie jerked her gaze back to his. “It’s only been a few hours.”
“An eternity for me.”
“How often do you…?”
His blue eyes darkened. “I spend eight to ten hours a day giving and receiving pleasure.”
“Eight to ten,” she echoed.
“It was more when I was younger. I went from one lover to another in an endless orgy.”
The very idea made her head swim. “Perhaps we should take a break. Do you have someone nearby you can call on?” When she saw his expression, she hurried to add, “Someone besides me.”
If she went to bed with him now, she would never finish the interview. She had to hold out a while longer.
“I have a small entourage living with me.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I made sure one would stay home in case I needed her.”
“Good. You, ah, go ahead and do what you need to do. I’ll jot down some notes and follow-up questions.”
“You must be hungry, too. I’ll have
food sent up.” He lingered, looking at her in a way that made Angie feel as though he could see through her clothes. Perhaps he could, for all she knew. She’d have to ask. As he walked past, he let his fingertips brush her hair, and she nearly followed him into the penthouse.
“Down, girl,” she muttered.
Before the door closed behind him, she heard soft laughter.
Angie dozed in the shade of the potted palm tree. She’d finished her late lunch two hours ago, and after writing down her observations and sketching out some follow-up questions, she had nothing to do. So she made herself at home on a lounge chair and closed her eyes, planning to rest for just a little while.
When she woke, she found Aaron back in his chair, watching her with a faint smile. “I apologize for leaving you on your own so long. It’s hard to keep track of time when you’re in bed.”
“True.” Angie sat up and yawned. She had to walk around him to return to her place at the table and caught the scent of soap and shampoo. He must have taken a shower after his romp. She turned the recorder on and checked her notes. “You said earlier that you can recognize another of your kind on sight. Can you explain how?”
“I’ve told you we are masters of shaping earth and water into flesh and know each molecule of a human body. Our bodies are much like yours but different on a cellular level, so we see immediately when one is a simulacrum, created rather than born.”
“And are you in touch with each other? Do you have friends?”
“We are solitary hunters, for the most part. But occasionally we gather in small groups, and I keep in touch with a few who are spread out across the country.”
“Are there any sort of rules or etiquette?”
“There aren’t enough of us to need them, really. We have no government or organization.”
“What about in your original form? Is there some kind of political structure?”
Aaron frowned. He was silent so long she began to wonder whether he intended to answer, but his expression was one of deep thought, so she waited. “We have families, of a sort, which are constantly in flux. The oldest and strongest of us are respected, their wisdom sought. It is an informal hierarchy, I suppose.”