Several hours later, I wanted desperately to talk to Shock. But after I’d seen Crave’s security system, I couldn’t tell her the most important thing—that it was Ram who had tried to kill her. I was starting to think it was my own paranoia, induced by Revel’s twisted tastes, but I had the feeling people were listening in on everything I said. I couldn’t even risk calling Michael to find out how Pepe was; the less these demons knew about my friends, the better.
To relieve my boredom after Lash left, I opened my door to better hear the bass voices of the cops echo up the stairway. When that finally went quiet, there was an eerie silence in the house. Occasionally there were footsteps pattering up or down below, and the sound of doors closing softly.
Then I heard Lash’s voice, rising high and strident.
I hurried out into the hallway, leaning over the banister to hear. She was shouting about suing someone for defamation. Crave replied shortly and pointedly, sending her off on a higher tirade.
I quietly descended two flights, staying on the inside of the steps where they wouldn’t creak. With every step, I got to hear Lash read out loud as she rattled a newspaper in anger. “It’s a two-page banner headline! THE PROPHET STRIKES BACK! What are we, aliens? This isn’t journalism; it’s not even yellow—it’s puce! How did they get this printed so fast?”
“You really must join the computer age, darling,” Crave drawled.
“Don’t they have laws that prevent this from happening? See, here, they say our ‘love nest was violated.’ They say the injured robber performed odd jobs for the church—odd jobs! And they’re saying you’re the one who shot him, or at least they’re implying you did it. Look at this: ‘Mark Cravet, the infamous playboy, defended his love . . .’!”
“Nice shot of my house,” Crave said.
Lash sounded angry, but she also seemed to be enjoying herself. She was the center of attention. She poured over the photographs, noting how well she looked in the one where she was snuggled under Crave’s arm. She also read the fawning description of Mark Cravet, how he was considered an artist for his fanciful pavé designs using gems he cut into extraordinary shapes.
By crouching at the top of the stairs, I could see down into the parlor. The room was shadowed from the shutters pulled over the front windows. Lash was wearing a formal dress again, a pale blue halter with an empire waist, showing off her shoulders, long neck, and décolleté.
She was fingering her necklace, a delicate, gem-studded chain. The studied tilt of her head, setting off her eyes and seductive mouth, showed that all the world was a stage to Lash, including her intimacies. “You are brilliant, darling. I never want to take this off.”
Crave seemed more irritated than pleased by her flattery. “The servants are going to catch you one day,” he told her, letting his eyes linger on her flushed cheeks.
She
was
looking rather youthful and vibrant with glossy blond hair and blushing skin. In public, she had to stay faithful to the persona she had created of the prophet’s aging wife. Clearly she wasn’t satisfied with that role while she was enchanting him. But Crave was right; someone was going to notice how young and dewy Lash was looking these days.
Lash shrugged, flicking out the fingers of her hand lightly as if to toss away any concern about that. “I do it to please you, because I know you see beautiful young women every day, and I know how they tempt you.”
“You knew who I was when you came to me. You can’t keep getting jealous every time a woman speaks to me.”
“I know, Crave. I’ll do whatever you want. I didn’t object, did I, when you brought home those whores last week? I know what you are, and I love you for it.”
“That’s not likely to happen now, what with the reporters camped on our sidewalk. I’ll be cast as the devil in this little drama of yours, just you see.”
Lash took his hand, closing her eyes as she soaked up his irritation. The flashing of her aura lit up the darkened room as she pulled on him hard, as if she hadn’t fed since yesterday.
Crave impatiently shoved her hand away. “You must learn to feed from others. I can’t sustain you on my own.”
Lash was almost panting to be torn away from him as he castigated her—her favorite emotion. “It’s hard! You know how I’ve lived my life. He would only let me feed from him. It feels too . . . intimate to do it with someone I don’t love.”
Crave looked away from her. But he allowed her to take hold of his hand, letting her soak up his annoyance.
The silence roiled with tension. Then he ordered quietly, “Get down.”
She trembled as she shed her shame and desire for him. Slowly she knelt, humbling herself to him. Her flush of embarrassment was so strong that I could see the deep teal streaks in her aura.
She clung to his hand. He touched her hair to absorb her longing for him, her thrill at his touch, the spike in her desire. Her lips parted as if to say she would do anything he asked if he would only touch her again. Her breasts strained against the halter of her dress as she leaned closer to him.
“Show me how much you want it,” he said.
She kissed his hand fervently. I felt like a voyeur now, as if I should back away slowly. I didn’t want to watch them feed each other. It felt like watching them have sex.
Crave shook his head. “That’s not good enough. I think you need to be lying on the floor while you do that.”
Confused, she looked down, then put her hand to her mouth, realizing what he wanted.
Nothing could have torn me away. . . . Did he want her to kiss his feet?
He did! Lash slowly bent down, putting her face to the toe of his slipper. Her lips pressed in firmly so he would feel it through the leather.
“I love you,” she murmured, pressing her lips against him again.
“What do you want?” he asked her.
“To touch you,” she instantly replied, her face still near his foot.
“Then do it.”
She hesitated, and I didn’t understand at all. But then she removed his leather slipper, pulling it from his foot.
I wondered if Dread had ever debased her like this. Surely Dread had wanted her fear, not her humiliation. But perhaps Crave knew better that physical wounds had little effect on demon bodies, and were quickly shed and gone. The psychic barbs he struck Lash with were better aimed to cut to her heart.
Her desire surged for him, her need to abandon herself to his wishes. Crave’s eyes closed as he soaked it up, as her lips pressed against his foot. It was so strong that it washed through the room. It hit me like a contact high—she practically swooned from his sudden desire to push her away from him, despite everything she was giving him. There was never a more thorough masochist than Lash.
“Tell me why you left Dread,” he said quietly.
She froze in the act of kissing his foot, her lips pressed against his skin. I was also caught off guard. He had been listening to us talk. He must have heard what she said in the bordello room.
Lash pulled back, her eyes downcast. “I left him for you, Crave.”
“No.” He smiled a little. “That’s the pretty story we tell everyone. But it’s time I know
why
you decided to leave him that night. What happened, Lash?”
Her hands were still holding on to his foot as she knelt in front of him, exposed and vulnerable. Her eyes were glazed.
He grabbed her arm, ready to pull her off him, to force her to let go. “Tell me now, Lash. Or—”
“All right!” She took a deep breath, looking up at him. “Something . . . happened while I was getting ready to go out that night. My back was turned to Dread, and I was holding up a hand mirror to check my hair. He walked by and cast me a look of . . . I can only call it contempt. His lip curled up, as if disgusted by the sight of me. It was pure luck I saw it in the mirror. When I turned, there was nothing in his expression to suggest he wasn’t listening to every word I was saying, just like any other time.”
She looked down at her hand as if remembering the mirror in her palm, and the image of his disdain emblazoned across it. “He tried to put me in the cage that night, and I panicked. I couldn’t do it. I lost trust in him. What else was he hiding from me? Had he been lying all those years? He was furious, but Vex intervened. I grabbed what I could and came here to you.”
“You left because he looked at you wrong?” Crave asked in disbelief.
Her eyes shifted away. “You should have seen it. He was so cold, so contemptuous. As if he hated me. But when I turned around, he looked like he always did, attentive, cherishing. I realized that face I knew so well, that love he showed me, it was all fake—a mask he wore for me. He never really loved me. He just needed me.”
She was hating every second of it, while she squirmed with wild pleasure at being forced to reveal her darkest secret. Crave was soaking it up as fast as she was feeding off him, passing the flare of energy back and forth between them, an incestuous generation of power.
“But darling,” he drawled, “I feel contempt for you from time to time. Look at you down on the floor kissing my feet. . . .”
Her eyes shone, and for the first time she really looked at him. “Yes, but with you I feel your love. You want me to be happy. I know you say and do all of these awful things for me, to give me what I need, because you love me.”
Crave stared at her. I could read it on his face—he didn’t love her.
But Lash couldn’t see it. She bent to kiss his hand again. How could she not see that their relationship was a rapidly passing fad on Crave’s part?
And now he knew that Lash hadn’t really left Dread for him. No wonder Lash didn’t understand the depths of Dread’s jealousy. She hadn’t left because of Crave; she had left because of Dread. She must have expected Dread to try to get her back, to woo her. His need for vengeance was baffling her.
Crave abruptly pulled away from Lash. She cried out wordlessly, but he walked out the back door.
I hastily withdrew, tiptoeing up the stairs to the bordello room as silently as I could.
Perhaps Lash could see that Crave didn’t love her. But she thought she had an eternity to bind him to her.
20
My first indication that something was about to happen came from the tickling of a new signature. The demon approached slowly, so I had time to feel the lifting, swirling sensation grow in strength and clarity. My own signature was buoyant, but this was like being carried into the sky in an ecstatic rush.
Glory was coming. Finally.
Lash came to get me; she didn’t have to say a word. I followed her down to the parlor as Glory arrived. Lash looked irritable, as if she hadn’t fed enough. Crave had been sucking off her energy as fast as she drank from him. I knew what it was like to be on starvation rations.
To avoid the reporters, Glory came in from the garden. She was alone, confident that her network of loyal offspring were patrolling the borders of her territory. Her Selma Brown persona was in her forties now, full figured and boundlessly self-assured. She was wearing a yellow print dress and sandals, with her head wrapped in a brown and gold scarf. I could easily imagine her on the stage, singing backup in a sequined evening gown.
Crave went to stand in front of the shuttered bow window with his hands clasped behind his back. Lash stood on the other side, in the archway to the library. I felt surrounded.
I stood up, nodding to Glory. “Nice to meet you.”
“I don’t have time for that nonsense.” Glory came right up to me. “You tell me what’s going on here, Allay. What happened to Vex? Why did those demons attack me last night? You seem to know more about this than anyone else.”
The time for hoarding my information was over. If I wanted to survive and save Shock, I needed Glory’s help. “Vex thought you were trying to kill me. Is it true, Glory? Did you sic Pique on me? And your
other
assassin?”
“
You?
Kill you? Vex never said a word about you to me. Why would he care so much that he’d break an agreement we’ve had forever?”
I was a little surprised. “Don’t you know about Vex’s Revelation that he was planning?” At their blank looks, I added, “Using me as the star attraction.”
Glory shook her head. “It sounds to me like you’re babbling. What revelation?”
“Vex intended to cut off my head on television so I could resurrect and prove I’m immortal. He called it ‘the Revelation.’ He said you were trying to kill me to stop him from doing it. That’s why he sent Goad’s horde against you. To kill you first.”
Glory turned on Lash. “Do you know anything about this?”
Lash had her hands to her mouth. “Vex always said he had big plans, but I didn’t know it was
this
.” She considered it a moment. “But when I think of what they’ve done, it does make sense. Dread had a possessed human for a while, a member of the church. He tended to that man like a father. But he eventually had to be put down. He was too unstable and dangerous. He almost killed Zeal.”
“They tried to create a hybrid to be their puppet,” I said. “Then Dread decided he could be their new messiah. But Vex couldn’t let Dread get hold of that much power. He claimed that Dread’s background wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny, and that I had to do it.”
“But why?” Crave asked. “Why would they expose us all?”
“There’s been a technological development—it’s called the ERI. It shows the difference between humans and demons. Dread said soon they’ll be used everywhere as metal and bomb detectors, in airports, government buildings. . . .” From their appalled expressions, they understood the problem. “You didn’t know anything about this?” I asked Lash, unable to believe it. Vex had been so convinced she was a spy.
