by Debra Dunbar
“There are about a hundred and seventy thousand men in New Orleans, not counting the tourists. Pick one.”
I scowled. My best friend was beginning to sound a lot like a certain demon.
“I did, and he bit me.” Reaching up a hand, I ran it over tiny scabs on my neck, wondering if I’d have to endure the hot discomfort of keeping my hair down, or face teasing over my “hickey”.
“Let me see.” Darci scooted over to sit next to me on the sofa and look at the marks. “Oh for crying out loud, you baby. They’re barely noticeable.”
I doubted Darci’s opinion of the matter, given that I could actually feel the raised marks on my skin. I’d need to check them out myself and possibly apply some makeup over them. But first, to get a much–needed shower. No way I was going trolling for sexual partners filthy and smelling like a yak. The moment I could break away from Darci, I did, taking a re–filled coffee cup into the bathroom.
Surprisingly, the marks on my neck weren’t all that bad. I could explain it away as a bad bug bite. Overall I looked and felt pretty good for a girl who’d been nearly exsanguinated and had run all over the city barefoot. I heard Darci over the spray of the water, shouting about someone at the door, and cut my shower short, throwing on some clothes and comfortable running shoes. Was it Gavin, come to take her to breakfast? Or Irix? My heart sped up at the thought. I’d been so disappointed to wake up alone on the couch, although with my one–day extension I should be thinking more about finding a suitable sex partner than sleeping in late with my incubus nemesis.
It wasn’t Gavin waiting by the couch. Or Irix. It was a vampire holding a cell phone and a pair of platform boots. Panic stole my breath, but then I remembered what Irix said and tried to compose myself. In a show of confidence I was far from feeling, I crossed my arms in front of my chest and glared.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here.”
Darci’s eyes widened. “Oh, is that … him?” Her gaze darted back and forth between us in glee, delighting in every last juicy detail.
“I’m sorry. I want to apologize. And talk. Can we please talk?”
The vampire’s words came out rather muffled, and I noticed for the first time a fading bruise under his eye. From the speed at which he’d recovered from electrocution, he must have been beaten to a pulp to still have injuries. Score one for the guy with the Prius and a tire iron. I was tempted to just grab my stuff and kick him out, but part of me was curious. Apologize? If he was going to be forthcoming, this could be a great chance to get information on a species I needed to avoid.
Top of the food chain. Top of the food chain, I chanted as I scowled at him. “Okay. Let’s take a walk. Maybe I’ll even let you buy me a coffee.”
“Are you sure, Amber?”
It was then I noticed Darci had picked up something that looked like a sharpened chair leg in one hand, and a bunch of coins strung onto a chain in the other. It reminded me of a weapon from prison movies, minus the sock.
“What the hell, Darci? Do you have a shank in your pocket or something? A Saturday night special in the coat closet?” It actually detoured my mind from thoughts about my own demise. This was too bizarre. Darci Beauville, vampire hunter.
“Silver coins,” she commented, swinging the weapon in question to and fro with practiced ease. “Alligators, copperheads, and vampires — you live in Louisiana, you gotta be prepared.”
I eyed the vampire, seriously considering letting Darci have a go at the man first, just to make me feel better, but the black eye he sported gave me pause. He’d clearly paid a price for his actions. Besides, he’d been nice enough to bring back Jordan’s boots and my phone.
“I got this,” I told Darci. “We’re going to go get a cup of coffee, and you and I will discuss your supernatural readiness methods when I come back. Cool?”
My friend shrugged, dropping the coins–on–a–chain and the wooden stake onto the coffee table. “Cool. But if he pulls anything, you fry the balls right off his body.”
The vampire eyed Darci nervously as he put the boots down, extending my cell phone toward me. He looked like a normal guy in the light of the day without his leather pants and chains. Still, I couldn’t put the image of those fangs out of my mind.
I snatched my phone and stuffed it in the back pocket of my shorts, leading the way out and down the stairs. Having a vampire at my back was sending all sorts of uncomfortable prickles up my spine, but he seemed equally reluctant to have me at his back, and I didn’t want to spend all day standing like statues in Darci’s apartment.
We walked in awkward silence, grabbing coffee at the corner shop. He paid. He also grew increasingly anxious as we strolled, running hands through his dark, curly hair until it stood on end like a lopsided afro. Finally, just as we reached the edge of a park, he spoke.
“Look, I’m so sorry. I thought you were human. I would have never bitten you if I’d realized what you were.”
And what exactly was he assuming I was? Plus it kind of pissed me that he thought it was okay to go around biting humans, but that it was a terrible breach of etiquette to munch on my neck.
“I should have suspected,” he went on. “I mean, when I felt that sort of attraction to you … that never happens with humans. I want their blood, but I never want to have sex with them. I wanted you so much. It was mortifying. So embarrassing.”
What an ass. “So you wanted to fuck me and drink my blood?” I was purposely crude just to see him squirm. “And I take it you never want to fuck the humans you prey on and attack in dark alleys?”
He shot me an irritated glance. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. I’m so glad to hear you don’t drink the blood of the humans you prey upon and sexually attack in dark alleys.”
Touché. “I give them pleasure. I don’t leave them befuddled, wondering what the heck happened.”
“I don’t do any lasting harm. You do. I may drain their blood, but you drain more than that, and you do it the entire rest of their lives.”
He was right. We both needed to feed on humans in our own unique ways. His might be less enjoyable for the victim, but it was at least short term, and only a minor inconvenience. Once again I felt shame at what I was, at what I had to do to survive.
“Anyway,” he took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to come out here and get into an argument with you. I came to apologize and thank you for not killing me.”
“With the electricity?” I felt kind of bad now about shocking him through his genitals. That had to have been horribly painful.
“No, with your blood. There was a demon last summer going around masquerading as a human who would transform his blood once we began to feed from him. Four in my family spontaneously combusted before we got the word out in warning. Every time I went to feed that year, I was terrified it would be my last. So thanks for not killing me.”
Yikes. His tale reminded me how horrible demons could be. Would Irix do something like that? I always knew there was a dark side under his playful, sensual demeanor. Clearly this guy thought I was a full demon too. Which was probably a good thing. I didn’t need him questioning what exactly my other half was.
“No problem. Sorry about the electrocution. And sorry the dude with the tire iron beat the crap out of you.”
He lifted a hand to his eye and gave a short laugh. “Nah, I got away from him with no problem. This was from … someone else.”
He turned slightly, avoiding my gaze. I wondered who beat him up. Then I wondered how he managed to find me. I had Darci’s physical address in my phone, but it was buried behind password–protected e–mails. I hadn’t had a chance to type it into the GPS when he’d grabbed me. How did he know where I was staying?
“Well, I just wanted to return your stuff and tell you again how sorry I am.” He shot me a quick grin, saluting with his coffee cup. “And let you know that you have the best tasting blood I’ve ever had. You’ve got the nectar of the gods running through your veins.”
That was a
bizarre compliment. I wasn’t sure how to return it given that my experience hadn’t been so pleasant — bitten and my head ground against jagged bricks.
“Umm, and your cock is very nice. Wish I’d seen more of it.”
He paused in shock, and then threw back his head, laughter roaring out of him.
It wasn’t what I expected, and I couldn’t help but laugh along. Vampires were kind of cool — at least this one was. How very different from the movie portrayals.
“What’s your name?” I asked, putting out my hand.
“Ourson Delacrois.” He shook my hand. He pronounced it like “arson”, and I thought it was one of the most splendid names I’d ever heard.
“Amber Lowry. Friends?”
He grinned. “Friends.”
An idea crossed my mind, so bizarre that I couldn’t shake it. “Sit,” I commanded, pointing toward the ironwork chair at an outdoor café. “I’ll buy you breakfast, assuming you eat the traditional human stuff.”
He hesitated, and I wondered if I’d crossed a line somehow.
“I doubt they have type A straight from the vein at this place. You could drink coffee and watch me eat brioche. Unless that would make you puke or something.”
“No, it’s not that.” He shook his head, looking nervously at the horizon. “It’s just … work. I’m still young enough that I get stuck with the dreaded day shift, and they keep close tabs on us… .”
I felt like a total shit. I’d stupidly assumed vampires did nothing more than run around at night sporting black capes and swooping down on unsuspecting humans. Of course the guy worked, and from his explanation I assumed it was a vampire–owned business.
“Sorry. Rain check?” I had no idea why I wanted to connect with this guy so badly. It wasn’t my succubus half eyeing up prey, or my elf half who still regarded him with nervous resignation. It was me — Amber, who felt a connection with Ourson. I really did want him as a friend.
He hesitated, then plopped down into the uncomfortable–looking chair, pulling out his cell phone. “Give me a minute.”
There was a hushed, rapid–paced conversation in a language I didn’t understand. I caught something that sounded like “guest” and “demand”, then Ourson fell silent as a burst of muffled sound trailed from the phone. With a quick word, my vampire friend shoved the phone into his pocket and grinned at me.
“Brioche.”
“Hope you didn’t call in sick on my behalf.”
I was prying. Ourson ordered more coffee and our pastries from the waiter, obviously buying himself time to think of how to respond. We both watched the man walk away.
“Your next victim?” the vampire asked. Seemed he wasn’t going to answer my question after all.
“Nope. He’s gay. Thinks you’re totally hot and is a bit bummed you’re with me. He’s lamenting that the cute ones are always straight.”
Ourson shrugged. “So turn into a guy and do him.”
“What, and have the angels all over my ass?” I wasn’t about to tell him that, unlike full demons, this was the only form I could manage — probably the only form I’d ever be able to manage. No changing genders or races for me. What you see is what you get.
“I called my boss and told him I had a VIP.”
I had no fucking idea what he was talking about, so I remained silent and nodded knowingly. I have a feeling my “knowingly” came across as “clueless”, because Ourson gave me a sharp look and leaned his chair back onto two legs.
“A potential demon alliance. Vampire families are very interested in fostering relationships with powerful demons that we can leverage in the future for favors.”
I didn’t like that word “leverage”. And I seriously doubted I met the criteria for a “powerful demon”. Unless the vampires wanted me to fuck someone, or bring their begonias into an early bloom, they were shit out of luck.
The waiter brought our coffee and presented our brioche with a flourish, his eyes darting over Ourson’s broad chest. Poor guy. The vampire didn’t give him a second glance, his eyes fixed on mine the whole time.
“You know what that means?” Ourson asked as the waiter walked slowly away with dejected shoulders.
“I owe you a favor?”
Irix had tried to teach me this stuff, but it had gone in one pointy ear and out the other. Stubborn resistance plus a brain entranced by his physical charms had rendered me deaf to his instructional lectures.
“No! Well, sort of. Is this your first time here or something? Exactly how old are you?”
The gig was up unless I could manage to talk my way out of this. Usually, not a problem, but humans were more susceptible to a beautiful pair of eyes and heaving breasts than vampires seemed to be.
“I’ve been here almost twenty–one years, but it’s my first time.”
I was rather proud of my prevarication. And I added some heaving breast action, just in case. It worked. Ourson’s eyes nearly left his head, but it wasn’t my ta–tas that swayed him.
“Twenty–one years? Sweet Moses, how have you managed to avoid the angels that long?”
I mimicked him with my shrug and tried to look mysterious. I think my lame acting blew the deal. The vampire’s eyebrows rose, and he looked knowingly at me over the rim of his absurdly tiny espresso cup.
“Whatever. Anyway, I’ll be your minder while you’re in New Orleans, to ensure you don’t get killed on our watch and to provide you with the ultimate in vacationing experience.”
The time–share bullshit went right over my head. All I heard was that ugly word “minder” — that hit my guts with the strength of a noro virus. “Leverage” was bad. “Minder” made me want to puke.
“You are not following me the fuck around. Got that?” I liked this guy, but I already had an incubus shadow, I didn’t need a vampire one too. “I’m here to visit my friend and enjoy myself, not look over my shoulder every block while you stalk me. Screw that.”
Ourson threw his hands up, alarm flashing across his eyes at my mild temper tantrum. “You won’t see me, won’t even know I’m there. I’ll make sure you’re safe from the angels — kind of a personal bodyguard, only completely stealthy. If you need someone — a human to satisfy your needs, I’ll screen and provide the perfect partner. Think of me as a concierge.”
Sounded more like a pimp to me. Not that I was averse to that sort of service. I was in a strange city with a deadline looming over my head, and very particular requirements.
“Okay, deal. But I need to ask you my first favor, as my concierge. I need sex. Male, unmarried. Someone who doesn’t want commitment and only is looking for a brief encounter. Preferably someone in their forties or older who has made casual sex a lifestyle choice.”
Ourson stared at me, his mouth open.
“In good health. I don’t mind an old guy, but I don’t want to have someone stroking out on me.” I hated the thought of causing another’s death, no matter how pleasurable the passing might be for the victim. Besides, the initial energy surge would be all I’d get if my partner left this existence immediately afterward. I needed a longer supply than that.
“I can do that.” The vampire seemed rather breathless at the prospect. “Where will you be today?”
“South. A few miles out of town in the bayou.” I needed to meet with Jordan’s coven for our ceremony prep. The actual circle tonight wouldn’t give me enough time to waste and meet Irix’s new deadline, so I’d need to arrange an afternoon quickie. “Three in the afternoon good for you?”
He swallowed hard and nodded. “Marriott in the French Quarter. Room twelve twenty three.”
“Awesome. Thanks, Ourson. I really appreciate this.” I threw some money down on the table and got up. I had to hustle if I was going to squeeze all this into my schedule. “Oh, and no socks with sandals. That’s a total deal breaker.”
* * *
11
Thanks for loaning me your boots,” I told Jordan as I stuck them in the back seat of her car. I was glad Ours
on had returned them — who knows what they would have cost to replace. “I’ll get the rest of the clothes back to you after I’ve had them cleaned.” And repaired. I might need to purchase a new skirt for her after what it had been through last night.
“No problem. Did you take care of Mr. Quickie–in–the–Alley?”
Luckily I was turned toward the window, putting on my seatbelt or Jordan would have seen my grimace. I wouldn’t call what happened last night ‘taking care’ of anything. Once again the two halves of myself warred with each other. Should I tell Jordan exactly what Ourson and his buddies had been doing in the back alley with their pickups? Although, at a goth club, a real vampire might be quite the draw.
I wanted to warn Jordan, but I didn’t really want to out my new vampire friend. How shitty was that? Keeping his identity a secret so he could continue to prey on the goth club patrons. Where did my loyalties lie? Would it bother me if someone told my secret? Actually, no. I’d probably deserve being called out on my less–than–savory activities.
“I’m pretty sure he and his friends will continue their alleyway activities. They’re harmless if you aren’t looking for anything beyond twenty minutes.”
There. Although that did sound a bit like an endorsement. Should I warn her that Ourson and his friends wouldn’t exactly provide sexual satisfaction? Pretend that he was hung like a flea?
“Ah well. Once a player, always a player, huh? Hope he had a lot of energy, we’ve got a busy evening ahead.”
Ugh. I hoped Ourson came through for me or I’d be lucky to grow a blade of grass this evening. I decided to keep my thoughts positive and turned to watch Jordan drive, her eyes sensibly on the road.
“So, what should I expect tonight? I’ve been to a few Beltane rituals, but I’m assuming this will be different.”
Jordan shot me an appreciative glance. “I can only imagine how Beltane would be with a succubus in the circle. Wow.”
I laughed. “Yeah. I didn’t know I was half succubus at the time and just figured that the holiday always involved an orgy. No wonder I kept getting invited back.”