Incubus Dreams (21 page)

When the conversation seemed to be winding down, I told Damian that I wanted to talk to Jean-Claude before he hung up. He handed me the phone not long after, and I got to say, “Hi,
ich kann Deutsch sprechen.
” The silence on the other end of the phone was long. “If you didn't want me to understand you, should have stuck to French.”

“Damian does not speak French,” he said in a very careful voice.

“Well then you are shit out of luck, aren't you?”

“Ma petite . . .”

“Don't
ma petite
me, just tell me the truth. What other vampire powers can I expect to come on-line?”

“In all honesty, I am not sure.”

“Right.”

“Truly,
ma petite,
I am not. Even Belle has never transformed a vampire from another line the age of Damian. If you had asked me, I would have said it was impossible.”

That sounded like the truth. “Fine, but what powers were you asking Damian whether I had, or not, and don't lie; if I order him to tell me everything you said, verbatim, he'll do it. He'll have to do it.”

“You might be surprised there,
ma petite.
With your greater commitment to him as your servant, he may not be as much slave to your will. I do not know that this is true, but I know that the more marks you carried of mine, the less pliable to my will you became.”

That was true. I'd always been sort of creeped out by the fact that Damian had to do everything I told him, just because I said so, but it had moments of usefulness, and now it might be gone. Well, hell.

“Fine, then just tell me yourself.”

“You do not understand,
ma petite.
That you could gain my abilities is unusual, but this is an ability that I do not possess, have never possessed. What has happened to Damian is something only Belle could have done, and only if he were a new vampire. So is this a new ability all together, one I have never heard of, and if so, then what could that mean for you,
ma petite,
for us, and all those connected to you? What if you have gained abilities through your necromancy that we cannot begin to guess at?”

I sighed, and was suddenly tired, not scared, just tired. “You know, I am way tired of this metaphysical shit.”

“You also healed wounds with sex, without calling on Raina's munin, is that so horrible?”

“When I didn't do it on purpose, maybe. Think about that, Jean-Claude,
I didn't concentrate and do it on purpose. What else might I do accidentally? You don't even know.”

It was his turn to sigh. “The only other triumverate that included a necromancer as their human servant did not exhibit this level of . . . power.”

“You hesitated, what were you going to say before power?”

“You know me too well,
ma petite.
”

“Just answer the question.”

“I was going to say, unpredictableness.”

I wasn't sure that had really been what he'd meant to say, but I let it go. He'd answered the question the only way he was willing to. I knew by now when he'd given me everything he was going to. I'd learned to let it go after that, because anything else was just frustrating, and rarely gained me anything. “Fine, I believe that you don't know what the hell we're doing either. Is there anyone that would have a clue about what might be happening to us?”

“I will think upon that,
ma petite.
There is no one that I know that has ever managed to form two triumverates that intersect as ours seem to. But there may be those who could provide some more general information on triumverates, or necromancy, or . . . in truth,
ma petite,
I don't even know where to begin to ask an intelligent question. I cannot go to most master vampires in the world with these questions. They would see it as weakness. I will think upon it and see if there is anyone we can ask.” He sounded perplexed, which I didn't hear often in his voice.

“Alright, I'll call Marianne and see if she or her coven have any insights. I might even ask Tammy when she and Larry get back from their honeymoon. She is a witch, and her branch of the church has been dealing with supernatural talents for centuries. Who knows, maybe they have archives?”

“That is a good thought,” he said, “Damian seems most distressed.”

“You could say that.”

“I do not know for certain, but if he were to go to his coffin and you not be near, I think he might sleep as he is meant to during the day.”

“What if he just goes buggers again?”

“Put someone downstairs to watch him. Someone, not you or Nathaniel or Richard, someone that is not part of either triumverate. If your watcher does not see him sleep, then they can yell for you to come and comfort him.”

It wasn't a bad idea as ideas went, and I had nothing better. Also, I didn't want to spend the day baby-sitting Damian, or anybody for that matter. “I'll talk it over with him and see if he wants to try it.”

“If he refuses, then you will, what, hold his hand all day?” There was the tiniest edge of jealousy. I hadn't expected that.

I spoke before I had time to think, which I'd tried to stop doing. “You're not mad at Damian about the sex are you? It wasn't planned.”

“
Non, ma petite,
not the sex, though I do not lightly share you, no matter how reasonable I seem. No, it is that the three of you seem to have shared all four marks, though until I see you all together in the flesh, I will not be able to check that for certain. But if you share four marks and suddenly Damian is able to walk about in the sunlight, I must ask myself, if I had completed our triumverate, would I now be a daywalker?”

Oh. “I guess I can see that, but you've been as reluctant as I am to finish the fourth mark. You said you were no longer certain who would be master and who would be slave because of my necromancy.”

“And I am even less certain of it now, but to walk about in daylight as easily as moonlight might be worth the risk. If you have lost the ability to order Damian about, then that might be a telling thing.”

“I'll try to order him around later and let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“But there is also that immortality thing, not aging, neither Richard nor I were sure we wanted to give up being mortal.”

“And if you have bound yourself to Damian with the fourth mark, might it already be a moot point,
ma petite.
”

I stood there in my kitchen and was suddenly scared. “Shit,” I whispered.

“
Oui,
if you have truly completed all the marks, then your mortality may be a thing of the past. If that were true, then taking the fourth mark with me would lose you nothing.”

“And gain you the ability to walk in the day,” I said, and my voice wasn't friendly when I said it, because I'd heard the tiniest bit of eagerness when he talked about walking in the daylight. I couldn't blame him, but Jean-Claude had been working on his power base for too long not to see the advantages of things. I couldn't blame him, but part of me wanted to. Part of me still wondered if I was more important to him for the power or love. Most of me knew that I would never know for certain, and truthfully, probably neither would Jean-Claude. Love was not the nice, neat, linear thing I'd wanted it to be. It was not just one thing, but many things. I could admit that one of the reasons I loved him was that he was hard to kill. His chances of up and dying on me were smaller than if he'd been human. A large part of me really liked that. I'd seen enough of what death could do, and at too young an age, not to appreciate it.

“Perhaps, or perhaps not,
ma petite,
this is more art than science, or so it would seem.” His voice held a thread of anger in it.

“What are you pissy about? I'm not the one trying to pick a language you can't understand so I can hide things from you.”

“And I am not the one,
ma petite,
that has fucked another vampire, a lesser vampire, one of my own underlings.”

Put that way, it did sound like he had grounds to be pissed. “Am I supposed to apologize?”

“
Non,
but I do not have to like it. He has come to your body, and now he is free of the tyranny of the dark. One I could forgive, but not both. Both is a bitter thing,
ma petite.
”

“I am sorry,” I said, “I didn't plan any of this.”

“Of that I am certain. I am even certain that Damian planned none of it. Only you,
ma petite,
could keep having such accidental sex.”

Accidental sex.
He made it sound like I fell down, and there just happened to be an erection in the way. I kept that observation to myself. See, I am getting smarter. Out loud I said, “Accidental sex. That's one way of putting it. Am I ever going to inherit a vampire power that doesn't have sex involved somewhere in it?”

“I would never say for certain with you,
ma petite,
your necromancy makes you too much the wild card, but it is doubtful. So far you have inherited my powers, or Belle's, or some version thereof. To my knowledge Belle's powers revolve around sex, as do mine.”

“Great, can you at least give me a list, so I'll have some idea what to expect?”

“I could, if you truly desire one.”

I sighed. “No, just tell me in person when we see you tonight.”

“Tonight? I was hoping that you might come earlier.”

“We can't transport Damian in full daylight, his body might be fine, but I don't think his sanity would be. Besides, I've got to work this afternoon.”

“Always the work, no matter what else is happening around you.”

“Look, Jean-Claude, you've never seen what happens around me when I've gone too long between zombie raisings. Let's just say that I don't want a line of roadkill trailing after me, or worse yet, some ‘accidental' zombie come shambling into my room.”

“Are you saying that unused, your power raises the dead even if you do not wish to?”

“Yeah, I thought I'd told you that.”

“You have told me of raising the dead by accident when you were a child. I assumed that was merely from lack of training and disipline.”

“No,” I said, “it took me years to admit it, but no. If I don't raise the dead on purpose, then it happens accidentally, or I start getting followed around by ghosts, or the spirits of the newly dead. I hate that last one, they always want me to take messages to their nearest and dearest, and it's always stupid
messages.
I'm fine, I'm happy, don't worry about me.
What kind of message is that to knock on someone's door with? I'm this complete stranger, but your dead son told me to hunt you down and say he's fine. Nothing else, nothing urgent, just, I'm fine, don't worry.” I shook my head. It had been years since I'd thought about that. “I raise zombies, and the dead leave me alone.”

“Do they? Do they really,
ma petite?
” There was an edge of humor, but it held darker things.

“You aren't dead, Jean-Claude. I've seen dead, and whatever you guys are when you're up and running, dead isn't it.”

“There was a time when you did not believe that. I believe you once called me a handsome corpse.”

“Look, I was young, and I didn't know any better.”

“Are you certain at last,
ma petite,
that I am not just a ‘cute dead guy'?” Again he was quoting me.

“Yeah, I'm certain.”

He laughed then, that touchable, raise-goosebumps-all-over-your-body sound. “I am glad of that. Do you speak Italian,
ma petite?
”

“No, why?”

“Nothing,” he said, “I will see you tonight then,
ma petite,
you and your new friends.”

I started to say they weren't new friends, but he'd already hung up. I realized as I hung up, I should have lied about speaking Italian, but hell, as good as I'd gotten at lying, my first reaction was still to tell the truth. I guess you can't undo all your upbringing, no matter how hard you try.

W
E SENT
G
REGORY
in his kitty-cat fur down to watch Damian. Gregory was about the only one in the house not tied to me metaphysically. Well, okay, Fredo and Dr. Lillian, but Fredo wouldn't leave her alone, and Dr. Lillian said she wasn't finished with Richard's arm. So process of elimination made it Gregory's job.

He informed me as he glided toward the basement, with his spotted tail swishing behind a very human-looking backside, “I'm supposed to be on stage tonight at Guilty Pleasures. I can't go on like this. Jean-Claude will need to find a sub.” He gave that kitty-cat grin of bared teeth and vanished around the corner.

“What does he mean, he's supposed to be on stage?” Clair asked.

“He's a stripper at Guilty Pleasures,” I said.

She made a little
O
with her mouth. I wasn't sure why, unless her world was so protected that just being in the car with a stripper was a big deal. For her sanity's sake, I hoped her world was bigger than that.

“But, I don't understand, why can't he”—she made a waffling motion with her hands—“perform tonight?”

Richard saved me the lecture. “Remember that once in animal form you have to stay that way for six to eight hours.”

“I thought that was just because I was new.”

Richard shook his head, winced as if it hurt, and said, “No, most shapeshifters spend their lives tied to a cycle of six to eight hours in animal form, then two to four hours of being passed out once they shift back to human form.”

“Sit down,” Dr. Lillian said, and her voice indicated she expected to be obeyed.

He eased himself into the same chair he'd vacated. There were lines at his eyes and mouth, those tight pain lines you get sometimes, if something really hurts. How much damage had Damian done to him?

Clair tried to help him into the chair but seemed unsure where to grab
him, since he used his good arm on the table to brace himself. She sort of hovered uncertainly by him, as if she wanted to help but wasn't quite sure how. “But
you
don't have to stay in animal form for eight hours, and
you
don't pass out when you shift back.”

“He is your Ulfric,” Fredo said, “no one's king is that weak.” His voice was deeper than his chest was wide.

Clair gave him quick eye flicks, as if he made her nervous. Maybe it was the knives. “Do you pass out when you come back into human form?” she asked in a voice that matched the nervous eyes.

“No,” he said.

“I do,” Nathaniel said. He smiled at her. “Don't ask the rest of them, they'll all make you feel bad, because they don't pass out either.”

“How long have you been . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“A wereleopard,” he finished for her.

She nodded.

“Three years,” he said.

I did quick math in my head. “That means that Gabriel brought you over when you were seventeen.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“That's illegal,” I said.

“It's illegal in most states to contaminate anyone willingly with a potential fatal disease, regardless of age,” Richard said.

I shook my head. “I guess I'm starting to treat lycanthropy the way the law treats vampirism. If you're eighteen you can choose.”

“The law doesn't treat it the same,” he said.

I knew that, but I'd spent so much time among the shapeshifters, that I just sort of forgot. Careless of me. “I guess I forgot.”

“And you a federal marshal,” he said, but the biting comment lacked snap, because he hunched with pain at the same time.

“How hurt are you?” I asked.

“I'll answer that,” Dr. Lillian said. She smiled, but her eyes were serious. “If he were human he'd stand a very good chance of losing the use of that arm. Maybe he'd regain 50 percent, maybe less mobility. Your vampire severed muscles and ligaments all through the shoulder and upper chest region.”

“But he's not human,” I said, “so he'll heal.” I let the “your vampire” comment go. I liked the doc, and I didn't want to fight.

“He'll heal, but it will take days, maybe weeks, if he refuses to shift.”

“I promise that I will shift to wolf form when I get home.”

She looked at him like she didn't believe him.

“Just because I can shift back to human form almost immediately doesn't mean that it doesn't come with a price. I'd rather not be exhausted for the rest of the day. If I shift and stay in animal form for a couple of hours, it will be less of a drain when I go back to human form.” I think he was lecturing more for Clair's sake than anyone else's. She really was new. “So I'll wait until I get home, so Clair won't have to explain why she's driving around with a werewolf in the car.” That last sounded a tad bitter.

“He won't say it, so I will. I'm new enough that if one of my pack switches form, sometimes it brings on my change, too. And I'm not trustworthy when I first turn animal.” She looked down, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Richard took her hand. “It's alright, Clair, everyone has problems at first.”

Everyone nodded, some said “yes.” That seemed to cheer her a little. She looked younger than I'd thought at first, maybe twenty-four, twenty-five, maybe a little younger. If she hadn't been Richard's new girlfriend, I would have asked. But it seemed like prying and none of my business.

“Even if you shift at home, I've never seen you heal this much damage in forty-eight hours,” Dr. Lillian said.

“So?” he said, sounding defensive. Had I missed something?

“If you go to school on Monday with your arm useless and then by Friday it's usable, don't you think some of your fellow teachers might wonder about your remarkable recovery?”

“I'll make up a less traumatic injury, something that could heal that fast.”

She shook her head. “If they find out you're a werewolf, they won't let you teach children.”

“I know that,” he said, voice fierce, and the first thread of his power trickled through the air like a line of heat.

Clair's breath came out in a quiver. She looked dizzy. Micah put a chair under her, and helped Richard ease her into it.

“How long has she been a werewolf?” I asked.

“Three months,” he said.

I looked at him, and he wouldn't meet my eyes. “Three months, and you took her outside a safe house less than a week before the full moon?”

“Doesn't your house qualify as a safe house?” he asked.

“You can come here to shift form, but I don't have a reinforced room.” Most true safe houses had a room with a steel door and reinforced concrete walls. Most people put the rooms down in their basements and just told those who asked it was storage.

“We were supposed to have a picnic today,” Clair said in her small, uncertain voice.

I had to turn around so Richard wouldn't see my face. You did not take a brand-new shifter out for a picnic, if she was having this kind of trouble.

“She was fine this morning,” he said.

I turned around when I was sure my face would be blank enough.

“She's responding to your anger, and your beast,” Micah said.

“I know that,” Richard said, a hint of a growl in his voice.

She swayed in her chair.

“Richard,” Dr. Lillian said, “you have better control than this.”

He just nodded.

Lillian sighed. “If there was a way to heal your arm before Monday, your secret would be safe.”

“No,” Richard said.

It took me a moment to get the hint. “If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, not only no, but hell no.”

She put her hands on her hips and actually stamped her foot. “You are both being childish.”

We said no simultaneously.

“Fine, then I've done all I can for your arm. I will stay until we are certain that the vampire isn't going to rise and cause more havoc.”

“His name is Damian,” I said.

She nodded. “Damian, then, but if you won't let her help you, then I think you and Clair need to go to your house. I would suggest that you take her to the room in your basement, before you shift. She seems very swayed by your power.” She said the last as if she wanted to say something different, but thought better of it.

“I'll stay until Damian is down for the day.”

“I think you've done your part,” Lillian said.

“They needed my help before,” he said.

I couldn't argue that, but . . “How did you happen to be Johnny-on-the-spot this morning?”

“Gregory couldn't get anyone here to pick him up. He got worried. On his way over, his car broke down. I was next on the list at the coalition help line.”

I hadn't actually known Richard was helping staff the emergency calls. “Why didn't he call AAA?”

“He was more worried about why no one was answering your phone than his car.”

“I didn't think Gregory cared that much.”

Fredo said, “All your leopards are very serious about your and Micah's safety.”

I looked at him. “I wasn't aware of that.”

He grinned, a brief flash of teeth in his dark face. “You don't like being babied. They know that.” The smile faded. “You are their safe harbor; they value that.”

I don't know what I would have said to that, but Lillian interrupted and saved me.

“You need to go home, Richard.”

“Micah is here now, and Fredo,” she said, “I think you can leave it to us.”

He started to shake his head again and stopped in mid-motion. “I'll stay until we're sure.”

She sighed and shrugged. “You are a very stubborn man. Fine, stay, stay and be in pain.” Then she turned to me. “Is there coffee to spare?”

I had to smile. “I think Nathaniel can fix you up.”

“I'll just bet he can,” she said, and did a polite leer.

Nathaniel took it in stride, with a laugh.

I don't know what the look on my face was, but it caused Lillian to say, “I'm over fifty, Anita, not dead.”

“No, it wasn't that.” I wasn't sure how to put it into words, but it was more like you didn't say things like that about someone's boyfriend, not in front of them, anyway. There was that word
boyfriend
again in my head, with Nathaniel attached to it.

She was looking at me, sort of narrowly. “By the look on your face, I stepped in something. Is he more than just a member of your pard?”

I said, “yes,” and Richard said, “no.” Which left the two of us looking at each other. “I don't think you get to answer questions like that for me, Richard.”

“You're right, I'm sorry, but he's not your lover, or your boyfriend.”

“No, he's my
pomme de sang
.”

Richard shook his head and had to stop again. I don't think he knew how often he made that motion until today. “I thought, we
all
thought, he was your live-in, but now I know he's not.”

“He does live with me,” I said.

Richard started to shake his head, but actually caught himself before he'd begun the movement. “I know that, but he's not your live-in lover.”

“And that matters, how?”

“Alright, children,” Doc Lillian said, “I made a careless remark. I didn't understand what a
pomme de sang
means to its, his . . . owner, master.” She sighed. “I didn't mean to offend anyone, let's just leave it at that.”

“You didn't offend me,” Nathaniel said, and handed her coffee in one of the colored mugs he'd purchased for Furry Coalition meetings. He'd
thought it would be nice if we had enough matching mugs to serve our guests. I'd agreed, if I didn't have to shop for them, so he shopped for them. They were all either a deep, rich blue or a dark, forest green. Nice.

He handed me my baby penguin mug with coffee nearly to the brim, just the color I liked it, pale brown. By the color alone, I knew it would be perfect. “Drink,” he said, “you'll feel better once you've had some coffee.”

“I feel fine,” I said, but I sipped the coffee. Perfect.

He'd also already plugged in the coffeemaker. I was right about the French press not making enough coffee at a time to satisfy this many people. Hell, it barely made enough for my early morning needs. “We've got enough for one more cup, who wants it? There'll be more in a few minutes.” He smiled at the room in general, getting more of the blue and green mugs out of the cabinet.

“He acts like it's his kitchen,” Richard said.

“He cooks in it more than I do,” I said.

Richard made a visible effort not to shake his head, though he wanted to. “No, I mean . . . Jason is Jean-Claude's
pomme de sang
, but he doesn't move around the Circus of the Damned like he owns it. Nathaniel acts like this is his home.”

Nathaniel had his back to the room, but he was close enough to me that I felt his sudden stillness, as he poured coffee and tried to pretend he couldn't hear.

“It is his home,” I said.

I was standing close enough to him to hear the slight sigh of his breath, as if he'd held it waiting to hear what I'd say. He was careful not to look at me, but he was smiling as he puttered with the coffee.

“Jason lives with Jean-Claude, but he isn't . . .” Richard seemed at a loss for words.

Lillian helped him out. “Jean-Claude wouldn't have minded me remarking how cute Jason was, you minded when I said something about Nathaniel. If they're both
pomme de sangs
, then I think Richard and I are both confused about how we're supposed to act around them. Not boyfriend, not lover, it can get a little confusing.”

Nathaniel was very carefully not looking at me, or anyone, but especailly not me. I don't know how I knew that he wasn't just busy getting real cream out of the fridge to pour into an honest-to-God cream pitcher. The little pitcher was blue, and the sugar bowl was green, so the mugs matched everything. I knew his favorite color was purple, and had asked him why blue and green, and not purple? His reply was that blue was my favorite color, and green was Micah's favorite color. The answer seemed to make sense to him.
It didn't really make sense to me, but I was beginning to learn that things didn't have to make sense to me if it made the people around me happy, and the new dishes seemed to make Nathaniel very happy.