Incubus Dreams (6 page)

T
HE FIRST PERSON
I saw when I hit the parking lot wasn't any of the men, it was Ronnie. Veronica Simms, private detective, one time my best friend, was standing off to one side from the door. She was hugging herself so hard, it looked painful. She's 5' 8", a lot of leg, and she'd added high heels and a short red dress to show off the legs. She'd once told me if she had my chest she'd never wear another high neck shirt in her life. She'd been kidding, but when she dressed up, she showed off all that nice long stretch of leg. Her blond hair was cut at shoulder length, but she'd curled the edges under tonight so the hair bobbed above the spaghetti straps on her nearly bare shoulders. It was bobbing at lot, because she was talking low and angry to someone I couldn't see clearly.

I took another step into the parking lot, and the shadows cleared, and I saw Louis Fane. Louie taught biology at Washington University. He had his doctorate and was a wererat. The university knew about the doctorate but not about what he did on the full moons. He was an inch or two shorter than Ronnie, built compact, but strong. His shoulders filled out the suit he was wearing nicely. He'd cut his dark hair short and neat since last I'd seen him. His dark eyes were almost black, and his clean-cut face was as angry as I'd ever seen it.

I couldn't hear what they were saying, only the tone, and the tone was pissed. I realized I'd been staring, and it was none of my business. Even if Ronnie and I had still been working out together three times a week, which we weren't, it still wouldn't have been any of my business. Ronnie had had problems with me dating a vampire, Jean-Claude in particuliar, but her main objection seemed to be the vampire part. At a time when I'd needed girl advice and a little sympathy, she'd offered only her own outrage, and anger.

We'd started seeing each other less and less over the last few months, until it had gotten to the point where we hadn't talked in a couple of months. I'd known she and Louie were still dating, because he and I had mutual friends. I wondered what the fight was about, but it wasn't my fight. My fight was
waiting out there in the parking lot, leaning against the side of my Jeep. All three of them were leaning against the Jeep. It was like a lineup, or an ambush.

I hesitated in the middle of the asphalt, debating on whether to go back and offer to referee Ronnie and Louie's fight. It wasn't kindness that made me want to go back; it was cowardice. I'd have much rather gotten dragged into someone else's fight than face what was waiting for me. Other people's emotional pain, no matter how painful, is so much less painful than your own.

But Ronnie wouldn't thank me for interfering, and it really wasn't my business. Maybe I'd call her tomorrow and see if she'd talk, see if there was still enough friendship left to save. I missed her.

I stood there in the darkened parking lot, caught between the fight behind me and the fight waiting for me. Strangely, I didn't want to fight with anyone. I was suddenly tired, so terribly tired, and it had nothing to do with the late hour, or a long day.

I walked to the waiting men, and no one smiled at me, but then I didn't smile at them either. I guess it wasn't a smiling kind of conversation.

“Nathaniel says you didn't want to dance with him,” Micah said.

“Not true,” I said. “I danced, twice. What I didn't want to do was play kissy-face in front of the cops.”

Micah looked at Nathaniel. Nathaniel looked at the ground. “You kissed me earlier in front of Detective Arnet. Why was this different?”

“I kissed you to give Jessica the clue to stop hitting on you, because you wanted me to save you from her.”

He raised his eyes, and they were like two pretty wounds, so pain-filled. “So, you only kissed me to save me, not because you wanted to?”

Oh, hell. Out loud I tried again, though the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that I was going to lose this argument. Lately, around Nathaniel, I always felt like I was doing something wrong, or at least not right. “That isn't what I meant,” I said.

“It's what you said.” This from Micah.

“Don't you start,” I said, and I heard the anger in my voice before I could stop it. The anger had been there already, I just hadn't been aware of it. I was angry a lot, especially when I wasn't comfortable. I liked anger better than embarrassment. Marianne, who was helping me learn to control the ever growing list of psychic powers, said that I used anger to shield myself from any unwanted emotion. She was right, I accepted that she was right, but she and I hadn't come up with an alternative solution, yet. What's a girl to do if she can't get angry, and she can't run away from the problem? Hell if I know. Marianne had encouraged me to be honest, emotionally honest with myself
and those closest to me. Emotional honesty. It sounds so harmless, so wholesome; it's neither.

“I don't want to fight,” I said. There, that was honest.

“None of us do,” Micah said.

Just hearing him be so calm helped the anger ease away. “Nathaniel pushed it on the dance floor, and the
ardeur
rose early.”

“I felt it,” Micah said.

“Me, too,” Jason said.

“But you don't feel it now, do you?” Nathaniel said. His eyes were almost accusing, and his voice held it's own thin edge of anger. I wasn't sure if I'd ever heard him that close to being angry.

“Anita is getting better control over the
ardeur
,” Micah said.

Nathaniel shook his head, hugging himself tight. It reminded me of the way that Ronnie had been holding herself. “If it had been you, she would have just come out into the parking lot and fed.”

“Not willingly,” I said.

“Yes, you would,” he said, and his eyes held the anger his voice had held. I'd never seen those lavender eyes angry before. Not like this. It was strangely unnerving.

“I would not have sex in the parking lot of Larry and Tammy's wedding reception, if I had a choice.”

That angry gaze searched my face as if trying to find something. “Why not feed here?”

“Because it's tacky. And because if Zerbrowski ever got wind of it, I would never, ever, live it down.”

Jason patted his arm. “See, it isn't you she turned down, it's that she doesn't want to fool around at Larry's wedding. Just not her style.”

Nathaniel glanced at Jason, then back at me. Some strange tension that I didn't quite understand seemed to flow away from him. The anger began to fade from his eyes. “I guess you're right.”

“Well, if we don't want to be fooling around in the parking lot, then we need to get going,” Micah said. “The
ardeur
doesn't like being denied. When it does come back tonight, it won't be gentle.”

I sighed. He was right. That bit of metaphysical bravado on the dance floor would have all sorts of consequences later tonight. When the
ardeur
rose again, I would be forced to feed. There would be no stuffing it back into its box. It was almost as if, being able to stop the
ardeur
in its tracks, to completely turn it off once it had filled me, pissed the
ardeur
off. I knew it was a psychic gift and that psychic gifts don't have feelings and don't carry grudges, but sometimes, it felt like this one did.

“I'm sorry, Anita, I wasn't thinking.” Nathaniel looked so discouraged that I had to hug him, a quick hug, more sisterly than anything else, and he responded to my body language and didn't try and hold me close. He let me hug him, and step away. Nathaniel was usually almost painfully attuned to my body language. It was one of the things that had allowed him to share my bed for months without violating those last few taboos.

“Let's go home,” I said.

“That's my cue to part company,” Jason said.

“You're welcome to bunk over if you want,” I said.

He shook his head. “No, since I'm not needed to referee the fight, or for sage advice, I'll go home, too. Besides, I couldn't stand listening to the three of you get all hot and heavy and not be invited to play.” He laughed and added, “Don't get mad, but having once been included, it's harder to be excluded.”

I fought the blush that burned up my face, which always seemed to make the blush darker and harder.

Jason and I had had sex once. Before I realized it was possible to love someone to death with the
ardeur
, Nathaniel had collapsed at work and been off the feeding schedule for a few days. Micah hadn't been in the house, and the
ardeur
had risen early. Hours early. It had been interference from Belle Morte, the orignator of Jean-Claude's bloodline, and the first, to my knowledge, possessor of the
ardeur
. It only ran through her line of vamps, nowhere else. The fact that I carried it had raised very interesting metaphysical questions. Belle had wanted to understand what I was, and she had also thought it would raise some hell. Belle was a good business-y vampire, but when she could take care of business and make trouble, all the better. So it hadn't been my fault, but my choices had been limited to taking Nathaniel and possibly killing him, or letting Jason take one for the team. He'd been happy to do it. Very happy. And strangely our friendship had survived it, but every once in a while I couldn't pretend it hadn't happened, and that made me uncomfortable.

“I love the fact that I can make you blush, now,” he said.

“I don't.”

He laughed, but there was something in his eyes that was more serious than laughter. “I need to tell you something, in private, before you go running off, though.”

I didn't like how suddenly serious he was. I'd learned in the last few months that Jason used his teasing and laughter as a shield to hide a rather insightful intelligence that was sometimes so perceptive it was painful. I didn't like his request for privacy either. What couldn't he say in front of Micah and Nathaniel? And why?

Out loud I said, “Okay.” I started off to the far side of the parking lot away from the Jeep, and farther away from Ronnie and Louie, who even a glance showed were still having a quiet screaming match.

When the shade of the trees that edged the church parking lot lay cool above us, I stopped and turned to Jason. “What's up?”

“The thing on the dance floor was sort of my fault.”

“In what way, your fault?”

He actually looked embarrassed, which you didn't see much from Jason. “He wanted to know how I got to have sex with you, real sex, the very first time I helped feed the
ardeur
.”

“Technically, it was the second,” I said.

He frowned at me. “Yeah, but that was when the
ardeur
was brand new and we didn't have intercourse, and there were three other men in the bed.”

I turned away so the dark would help hide the blush, though truthfully he could probably smell it hot on my skin. “Sorry I brought it up, you were saying?”

“He's been in your bed for what, four months?”

“Something like that,” I said.

“And he's not had intercourse yet, hell, he's not had orgasm, not real orgasm with like release and everything.”

I couldn't blush harder or my head would explode. “I'm listening.”

“Anita, you can't keep pretending that Nathaniel isn't real.”

“That's not fair.”

“Maybe not, but I had no idea that you weren't at least doing him orally or by hand, or watching him do himself. Something, anything.”

I just shook my head and looked at the ground. I couldn't think of anything good to say. If I hadn't just had my metaphysical peek inside Nathaniel's head, I would probably have gotten angry, or rude. But I'd seen too far into Nathaniel's pain, and I couldn't pretend anymore. Couldn't ignore it.

“I thought that by not doing the final stuff that it would make it easier for him when the
ardeur
gets under control and I don't need a
pomme de sang
anymore.”

“Is that still your idea, to just dump him when you have enough control that you don't need to feed?”

“What am I supposed to do with him? Keep him like a pet, or a really big child?”

“He's not a child, and he's not a pet,” Jason said, and the first hint of anger was in his voice.

“I know that, and that's the problem, Jason. If the
ardeur
hadn't come
up I'd have been Nathaniel's Nimir-Ra, and his friend, and that would have been it. Now, suddenly he's in this category that I don't even have a name for.”

“He's your
pomme de sang
like I'm Jean-Claude's.”

“You and Jean-Claude aren't fucking, and nobody gets upset about that.”

“No, because he lets me date. I have lovers if I want them.”

“I've been encouraging Nathaniel to date. I want him to have girlfriends.”

“And your not-so-subtly encouraging him to look at other women made him turn to me for advice.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He doesn't want to date other people. He wants to be with you, and Micah, and the vampires. He doesn't want another woman in his life.”

“I am not the woman in his life.”

“Yes, you are, you just don't want to be.”

I leaned against one of the narrow tree trunks. “Oh, Jason, what am I going to do?”

“Finish what you started with Nathaniel, be his lover.”

I shook my head. “I don't want that.”

“The hell you don't. I watch the way you react around him.”

“Lust isn't enough, Jason. I don't love him.”

“I'd argue that, too.”

“I don't love him the way I need to.”

“Need to, for what, Anita? Need to for your conscience? Your sense of morality? Just give him some of what he needs, Anita. Don't break yourself doing it, but bend a little. That's all I'm asking.”