"Why?" he asks. "Why couldn't I leave with him? And who are you?"
"He's the wrong sort to get involved with," I say. "He has a bad rep for loving and leaving his men. Only he doesn't leave them empty handed. He leaves them with an unpleasant magical infection if you know what I mean."
Bart's eyes widen at my bullshit. "No kidding?"
"No kidding. I was just trying to save you from that fate. A friend of mine tussled with him once, and it didn't go well. He's still taking treatments for the infection." I lean in, letting my lips brush his earlobe. "It's been two years!"
Bart pulls back, shocked. "Well, er, thanks, I guess. That sounds quite unpleasant."
"Quite," I agree. "Let me get you another drink to make it up to you."
Dec comes over, and I order two more Dragon's Breaths, which impresses Bart whose eyes widen once again when Dec uses his dragon fire to roast the marshmallows on top.
"Neat trick," Bart says, taking the drink.
I hold mine up before he can take a sip. "To a night of fun with new friends!" I say.
"Indeed," he smiles and clinks glasses with me.
As our eyes lock, I prepare to use my compulsion on him when someone bumps into us, distracting his gaze away.
"Oh look," he says, pointing. "The lights are really incredible."
He looks around, then looks back at me but doesn't make eye contact, which is something I need in order to use my compulsion. "Would you, erm, like to dance?"
"I'd love to!" I say, and I let him take my hand and lead me to the dance floor.
You weave through the crowds, following at a distance, and I scowl at you as you laugh at me. But you're the one who will have to put herself at greater risk tonight, so I stick to my part and begin to grind with the gay low-level demon.
I feel bad, deceiving him this way, but in the monster community, no one is ever what they appear. We are all cheats and liars at the very least.
The sooner I can maintain eye contact with him for more than a second, the sooner I can compel him to give me the amulet and be done with this charade.
We have both seduced the unknowing into our webs in order to feed our darkest needs. It is the nature of the beasts that live within us.
His hands are all over me as we dance, and I try to reciprocate as the bass shakes the floor and the rainbow lights shift and change around us. I just can't get him to look at me. This isn't working.
"Hey," I say, leaning in, kissing his neck gently. "Want to go somewhere more private?"
His pupils dilate, and I can feel the lust and desire coming off of him in waves. This man is hungry for sex though he's not a sex demon as far as I can tell.
I lead him up a level to the privacy cubes, and we snag an available one, closing it behind us.
Immediately, the sound is drowned out, and it's just the two of us, him and me. I'd rather be in here with you, but here we are.
He still won't make eye contact with me. Damnit. I don't actually want to have sex with the man. This needs to end.
I've got to get a bit more creative.
But before I can, he closes his eyes and perks his lips, and I realize he's waiting for a proper kiss.
Dear god.
This is what you've forced upon me, woman. You do realize that, don't you?
It's not that I haven't seduced men in the past when I was feeling peckish and needed fresh blood, but it's not my preference.
Still, I play my part to the letter and lean in, brushing my lips against his. I feel him harden in desire against my body, and he moans.
I step back. "Let me look at you," I say.
He opens his eyes then glances down and smiles. He strips quickly, which isn't what I meant at all, but now he's naked in front of me, and he is too perfect by far. There's not a flaw on his body, and then it clicks.
He's wearing your amulet.
He's using your amulet.
Shit.
I'm about to seriously ruin this guy's night. I step forward and lift his chin with my finger. "I want to see your eyes," I say. "They're beautiful."
Finally, we have eye contact, and I channel my compulsion.
"Now, Bart, be a good boy and give me that beautiful amulet hanging from your neck."
He doesn't hesitate. He pulls it over his head and places it into my hand. The moment he does, the spell breaks, and his body shifts back to his normal one.
He shrinks by a full foot, his six pack pudges out into a belly, his chin becomes less chiseled, and his eyes turn brown. Everything about his appearance changes. When the compulsion wears off, he looks down at himself, screams, and grabs his clothes to cover himself, sitting on the bed.
He's not a bad looking chap, but he's not the sex demon he was hoping to be, either.
Tears stream down his face, and I honestly feel like the biggest piece of shit ever. This isn't the worst I've done to someone, not by a long shot. But it's the worst I've felt in quite some time.
"Why did you do this to me?" he asks, his head bowed in shame and embarrassment. "I just wanted one night to feel… desirable."
"How did you get this?" I ask, holding up the amulet.
He shrugs. "A woman at a club sold it to me, said it would solve all my problems. And it was working, until you ruined it all."
I sigh and sit on the bed next to him. "Listen. You don't need to look like a photoshopped model to be desirable."
Bart glances up at me and scowls. "Says the vampire who looks like a photoshopped model. What would you know?"
"You're right. I can't speak from personal experience. But I have lived a long life, and I have seen all manner of beings find lust… and love. It's not what you look like that matters the most. It's who you are and, particularly with first impressions, how you present yourself."
Bart sighs and looks away. "I think I'm a pretty interesting guy. I'm well-read, well-versed in the goings ons of the world. I enjoy a variety of art and entertainment, and I'm an excellent listener. But I can't get close enough to anyone for them to see that."
"Then you've done the hardest part already. If you have an interesting core, the rest is just cosmetic."
"That's what I'm saying," he says loudly. "I can't get the cosmetics right."
I realize this next bit isn't part of the deal you and I made, but I think you'll agree it's the proper thing to do even if it's not how I intended to spend the better part of my evening.
"Stay here," I tell him. "I'll be right back."
His eyes widen, and he looks nervous. "What are you going to do?"
"Help you win back that poor bloke I scared away earlier. The right way."
Chapter Seven
You raise an eyebrow at me as I run out of the privacy cube and search for Garsh. I don't have time to explain my plan to you, but I feel you'll approve when it's all said and done. It's certainly worth a shot after jerking this guy around tonight, don't you think? He didn't steal your heirloom after all. He was just gullible and was used by someone with much darker intentions who convinced him this was the only way to solve his problems.
I'm going to show him another way. One a bit more sustainable.
Garsh is cozied up to his two pixies on a large bean bag when I find him. I explain to the pixies—and Garsh—what I need, and they all smile, the pixies squealing in delight. Trolls don't really squeal, but if they did, I do believe Garsh would have.
The pixies kiss Garsh on each cheek and promise to return, then they follow me back to Bart, who looks positively aghast when I bring them into the cube.
"What's this? Look, I'm not into women—err pixies or whatever. At all. This isn't my thing."
The pixies giggle. "We're not here to sleep with you, silly. We're here to help."
In under ten minutes, the pixies have turned Bart's old suit into one that fits his real body. They've also trimmed his hair and given him a sexy disheveled look. "Thanks, ladies," I say.
They giggle and leave, and I turn to Bart. "Now you look the part of a d
ashing, intelligent man. The next step is learning to act like one."
I spend a little while teaching Bart how to walk, stand, move, and make small talk. How to engage in eye contact—not too much or too little—how to subtly mimic his partner's mannerisms in order to create a subconscious connection with him—all of the skills he'll need to make it as himself.
"I think you're ready," I say.
He smiles and tugs at his coat nervously.
I straighten his tie. "Don't fidget. Remember. Confidence. Poise. You are ready for love, and love is ready for you." I sound like a damn self-help book, but my words seem to do the trick.
"Thank you," he says. "I have a question. Was there any… " he waves his hands between us.
I shake my head gently. "I'm sorry, mate. But I've got my eyes on a different prize this evening. Pity you got caught in the middle of it."
He shrugs, straightening his spine as I taught him. "You know, maybe it's for the best." Then, he smiles and walks out the door, his head held high. "Yes, maybe it's really for the best."
I find you at one of the bars, drinking your weight in whiskey. I order one to match and take a seat beside you. "Tired of the sweet drinks?"
"Tired of waiting. What the hell took you so long? You didn't actually have to…?"
"No. No. It didn't progress that far. But. Well. Never mind about any of that. The point is I completed the mission." I pull out the pendant, and your face lights up.
"I can't believe you got it back!" You throw your arms around me, nearly toppling my drink, and I don't even care because the scent and feel of you is so intoxicating everything else pales in comparison. The hug lingers, my face buried in the nape of your neck, your hair tickling my nose, your pulse so strong and vibrant just below your skin. I growl with desire and pull away.
"Be careful with vampires, love. You smell divine."
You raise an eyebrow and grin. "Maybe when this night is said and done, I'll give you a taste. I've been told I'm delicious."
Every part of my body responds to that, and you don't fail to notice, your gaze taking in the sudden bulge in my pants. "I have no doubt you would make a very memorable meal in every way," I say.
You slip the pendant over your neck and touch my hand. Then, you frown. "It's not working."
"What do you mean?" I ask. "I definitely saw your mark transform when I took it off of him."
"I'm with you. Touching you. I'm supposed to turn into the person you most desire to be with, but I'm still just me."
I shift uncomfortably. This can only mean one of two things. I'm hoping it's a simple problem of my ring. It's blocking your powers, and so you can't read me with your trinket. I slip it off, and a wave of desire sweeps through me so powerfully I almost topple from the chair. Your eyes widen, and my body shakes as I force myself not to attack you here and now.
Your powers are too strong when we are this close. I slip the ring back on quickly and sigh, letting the already strong attraction return, replacing the supernatural force that is your succubus allure.
The thing is, you didn't change looks. Which means…
I clear my throat. "I guess you're my type," I say.
It's the understatement of the year, but I didn't come to this shindig to find love. I came to find my ring, and while your mission has been accomplished, mine hasn't.
Which means putting you in danger.
Shit.
I can tell you have more thoughts on this subject, but now's not the time to discuss them. Or us. Or whatever this is.
"About my ring?" I say, bringing our focus back to where it should be.
"Right. Yes. Um. I definitely owe it to you. Where do we find the mysterious Delores?" you ask, slipping the pendant under your dress.
"That's an excellent question. Who here would know the most about the guests?" I ask.
"Besides the mysterious Proprietor who no one knows the name or whereabouts of?" you ask.
I smirk. "Yes, besides her."
"A bartender, I would think. They see and hear just about everything."
Of course. That makes perfect sense.
"Who should we ask? Male or female? I have compulsion, but you have allure? Which do you think will be more helpful?"
A voice interrupts us. "Your powers won't work on any of us," Dec says, leaning into our conversation. "But if I can be of service, you have but to ask."
He's directing his attention towards you, so I lean back and let you handle the dragon, as it were.
You smile charmingly, place a hand on his, and I see the transformation take place. It's so subtle and mind-melding; I don't even think Dec knows it's happening. Your eyes become golden with slitted pupils. A tattoo of scales forms on your arm, and your hair lightens. Dec doesn't give any indication that he realizes what's happening, but I watch you—a master of seduction—dance with him. Your succubus powers may not work on him, but your charms do.
"Thank you, Dec," you say as you lean in. "We are looking for a very powerful vampire by the name of Delores. She's tall, wears all white, beautiful in a vicious kind of way. Any chance you know where she might be?"
"I do know the woman you speak of. She likes dirty martinis with a splash of A negative blood, warmed just so, and only by dragon breath. And with an eyeball rather than an olive. Hard to forget an order like that," he says, unconcerned by eyeballs in his martinis.
Not that I'm one to judge where anyone gets their food—or drink—from. I can still smell that rancid demon when I close my eyes. Oh the things I've done to get here tonight. This has to work.
"Yes, that sounds like her," you say. "Where can I find her?"
"Sorry, love. I think she's already retired to a privacy cube for the night. Better luck next time."
Dec leaves and you face me, your features returning to normal. "This isn't good," you say.
"No. It's very, very bad. For us and for whoever Delores lured into her web."
"We're not allowed to kill anyone here," you say optimistically.
"But there are no rules about maiming," I remind you.
Chapter Eight
We head to the loft level and study the many multi-colored cubes that contain an assortment of couples in various states of copulation.
"We have no way of knowing which one she's in," you say.
"Yes, I'm aware."
"We need luck," you say.
"Luck?" I eye you skeptically. "I mean, yes, that's true, but that's hardly a sound plan."
You smile, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "You vampires really should get out more." You grab my hand and drag me through the club. "I have an idea."
"Care to explain?" I ask as we push through dancing bodies and all manner of drama unfolding as the evening progresses.
You don't answer, and in your frenzied walk, you nearly plow into a blonde woman in a black tulle dress who's following an enchanted ladybug around. She doesn't even notice how close she came to a collision.
I glance back at her, studying the small, crimson bug glowing in front of her, and wonder about her story. But there's no time to find out because you, my dear, are clearly on a mission, and you are stronger than you look!
"Look for mischief," you say as you scan the crowds.
"What does that even mean?" I ask, equal parts amused and exasperated.
You pause, raising your hands as if you are the one exasperated with me! "Just… look for unseen pranks. Nothing serious. Just a bit of wee fun."
"Woman, I honestly have no clue what you're going on about, but we need to get back to the cubes and find Delores before it's too late."
You sigh. "That's what I'm trying to do!"
Something catches your eye and you turn and smile. "Fergus. I know you're here."
I study the scene and notice a man standing from the bar and falling forward, his shoes tied together. He curses, looking confused.
"Fergus! Show yourself. You owe me, you little devil."
"Oh blimey!" I hear, as a small bearded man appe
ars before us in a puff of green smoke. He's got a shock of red hair and wears a green velvet suit, and he looks… well… he looks just like a…
"A leprechaun!" he says forcefully. "Go ahead, and say it. I know you be thinking it."
"Are you really?" I ask, a little stunned. "Well, I never…"
"And ya never will again if I've anything to say about it," he says. Then he turns his attention to you. "What ya be wanting, lass? I have business to attend."
You cock your hip, palm splayed on it, a stern look on your face. "Oh, I saw the business you were attending. Behave, little man. People are trying to have fun here tonight."
He harrumphs and crosses his arms over his chest. "Then what ya be wanting with me?"
"You know what I want. My favor. I'm here to claim it."
He raises his hands in the air and rolls his eyes. "Now ye be claiming it? And not all those other times it could have come in handy? Why ye not save it for later? You never know what pitfalls may befall you."
"Don't you threaten me, Fergus," you say, kneeling to face him eye to eye. "Now give me my favor. I need a bit of luck tonight. And you're going to provide it."
He puffs out his lips until he looks like a fish, and his face turns a darker shade of red. "I can't be givin' ya me luck. What will I do otherwise?"
"You'll get more. You always do," you say.
"But, not in time for tonight," he says, pouting.
"Sorry, old friend. But you owe me, and I need this. Pay up. And fast. We're in a hurry." You hold out your hand, waiting.
"Oh, she's in a hurry, is she? Wants me to pay up, does she? I work at my own time, lassie," he says, but while he talks, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small vial filled with something glittery green. He squeezes it in his hand, and she raises an eyebrow.
"Fergus… you wouldn't want to be known as the leprechaun who went back on his word, would you? What would the other leprechauns say?"
He puffs his chest. "Fergus has never gone back on his word. Never."
The Monster Ball Year 2 Page 28