Silent Cravings (37 page)

“So over here I’m a Were-cat?” Freddy asked.

“Were-tiger?” Analie suggested. “Were-big-ass-tiger?”

“Just how big do you get?” Christoph asked, eyeing Freddy with unease.

“Hey, look,” Freddy said quickly, turning to a random page in the album. “It’s... whoa, Were portraits.”

It was a two-page spread of nothing but the Weres in Goliath, in Were form. Most were just sitting around in what looked like scrubland or mountains. A few were inside houses, lounging on the floor or crouched in the kitchen with a sandwich.

Analie pointed at a mouse-brown Were with fur that was stuck through with dead oak leaves. “That’s me!”

Christoph pointed at a massive black-and-red Were in full wolf form, sitting on a couch and watching television through half-closed eyes. “That’s me.”

Freddy frowned and pointed at a black Were with shocks of white through its fur, snarling at the camera. “There’s Ashi.”

Wesley suppressed a shiver at the sight of so many Weres. Reconciling the gigantic, furry monsters in those pictures as the people in front of him wasn’t easy. He only knew from rumors and second-hand information that Goliaths were supposed to be the bane of his kind.

“I’ve never seen a bunch of Others document their existence like this.” Wesley shook his head, eyeing the photos speculatively. “Too likely it could fall into the wrong hands or be used against us. Well, before humans knew we existed, anyway.”

“It
is
being used against me,” Christoph muttered.

Freddy looked back at Wesley. “I guess we knew that—I mean, I guess the Goliaths knew that they were taking a risk, but they like documenting social events like barbeques and birthdays. I mean, no one’s going to take a camera into a real pack meeting.”

“The guy who turned me didn’t seem to have a problem with pictures,” Sebastian said, speaking up for the first time in a while. He’d been awfully quiet and nervous, particularly seeing some of those pictures. He wouldn’t approach the couch. “Then again, he also turned me without a contract, so maybe there were other rules he was willing to break, too.”

“You need a contract for that?” Analie asked Sebastian, ignoring her packmate. “Like, a legal contract?”

“Sure,” Sebastian answered Analie, looking uncertainly at Wesley. Wes’s look wasn’t particularly encouraging. “Feds passed a law that you can’t turn or feed on anybody without a contract. If you don’t sign it beforehand, the Were or vamp who turns or hurts you gets hunted down and destroyed.”

Wesley decided to focus on something a little nearer and dearer to his heart instead. Security.

“Maybe not,” he said to Freddy, “but what if a bunch of White Hats or some other bunch of crazies got their hands on those pictures? They’d know who to look for. Not only that, but
where
to find you when you’re at your most vulnerable. To show to your friends, your family, your coworkers—think about it.”

“Are White Hats in California?”

Wesley considered Analie’s question. “I’m not sure. Maybe. I know they’re all up and down the East coast, but I’ve never checked if their operations extend that far. Alec probably knows. Even if they don’t call themselves White Hats, there are probably hunters of some kind out there.”

Freddy shut the photo album, looking very disturbed. The hair on the back of Analie’s head was fluffed out. Freddy stood up, taking the album with him and muttered something about getting something else cool out of the box. He retreated to Analie’s room. She knew he wasn’t coming back out.

“Yes,” Sebastian said, “if you’re human, you’re safe until you’re contracted. You can’t even fu—err…” he shot a guilty look at Analie, then quickly rethought his words. “…can’t even steal so much as a kiss without a contract. When you’re contracted, you’re out of luck if the Other you signed with hurts you. Most of the contracts I’ve seen lately also include an umbrella clause to include other pack or coterie members. Makes it harder on us to get by since we can’t take what we need and move on. No one night stands anymore.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You need a contract to
feed on
someone?” Christoph said, eyes wide.

Analie frowned. “Then why could John bite Ashi? Is it because he was a total idiot and owes Royce, or is John breaking the rules? And does that law apply in California? Because I know Goliaths who had to fight off vampires.”

Christoph nodded. “Hawk, the guy in the luau pictures, joined up because he’d been trounced by vampires. He said they’d tried to herd him and three other strays somewhere. He got away, but it took him months to heal.”

Analie remembered Hawk joining the pack. Gavin had taken charge of the situation and ordered that arrangements be made to take care of the guy until he could decide to join the pack or not. She remembered him barking, “He’s got no eyes, Willow. What do you want to do, put him out on the street until the shadows or Amberguard pick him off?”

She shuddered at the memory. This was why the pack had been so impressed with Christoph’s supposed defeat of a vampire in a convenience store. Here it was so different from the stories of long ago or the stories more recent victims told. New York vampires were very different from their California counterparts, it seemed.

Wesley answered when it looked like Sebastian either couldn’t figure out how to respond, or, like Analie, was clueless.

“Ashi is a Were,” he explained, as patiently as he could. “He’s Other. The laws that protect humans don’t apply to him. He may not be able to shift, but that doesn’t change what he is. Alec could’ve killed him—or you—and no cop or judge would fault him for it. We’re all left to sort out our own affairs. Human laws only get involved when un-contracted humans get pulled into our messes. That means anyone in this building could bite, kill, or even torture him, and the only thing they’d have to face would be the censure of the people here, or the potential retaliation by your pack.”

“The vampires and Weres in New York have a kind of official, unofficial pact. We work together,” Sebastian said. “Magi, too. We help each other out, and do everything we can to be civilized with each other and with the humans we deal with. Doesn’t mean we’re friends, or even friendly when we meet, but we work together when we need to for the common good. That’s part of why I came to New York.”

“Sebastian,” Wes started warningly. Sebastian turned a glare on Wesley, who was giving him a look.

“I didn’t want to be turned,” Sebastian said, keeping his gaze challengingly locked on Wesley’s. “Hell, for a while, I thought the whole thing about vampires and werewolves being real was just a joke. Some asshole who didn’t care what I thought turned me anyway. I couldn’t hide it long. When my parents found out, they kicked me out. Thad—my brother—came with me when we moved out here from LA. But not before I killed the son of a bitch who turned me.”

“I’m gonna go check on Freddy,” Analie said, and quickly retreated to her room.

“I’m going to see if Ashi’s alive,” Christoph said, quickly leaving the apartment.

Neither of them wanted to hear any more about what could happen to those contracted or, worse, the ones who didn’t have to be contracted. Christoph’s unease had increased greatly and he wanted to get away from the vampires as fast as possible.

Analie felt jumpy again, just like when she first arrived. She was strongly reminded of the stories she’d heard her entire life. John’s dickery seemed more menacing now; he was a predator, and a cruel one at that. Even when bringing down strays, Goliaths didn’t toy with their prey.

Chapter Fourteen

M
ouse had been reluctant to leave her room, even after Jessica had reassured her that she wasn’t the ravening beast she felt she was. She knew she should’ve sated her hunger last night and that waiting this long wasn’t a good idea, but the thought of leaving her room or coming face-to-face with Analie or Christoph only brought that odd, sick feeling back, killing her hunger for a while.

Now that it was a new day, she couldn’t wait any longer or she’d risk hurting whoever she ended up biting. Like the other vampires in the building, many of her donors stayed in their own homes, and she would go to them instead of keeping them close to hand. Aside from Christoph, she only had one in the building: a quiet, bookish young man named Timothy Stetzel, who was an assistant in the Accounting Department at Royce’s corporate office.

Like Mouse, Timothy was quiet, shy, and agonizingly embarrassed about the fact that he enjoyed being bitten. He didn’t interact much with anyone else unless he had to, with Mouse being the lone exception. She hoped he hadn’t left for work yet and prayed she wouldn’t run into anyone in the halls as she made her way toward his room on the second floor.

Christoph had been pestering Ashi to teach him some fighting moves. Christoph was a warrior, yes, but he subscribed to the “swing your claws around at stuff that moves” school of combat. Combining blinding speed and bone-crushing strength with an actual technology of fighting appealed to Christoph very much.

So he asked. When that didn’t work, he bugged Ashi to no end. When that only earned him a bloody nose, he appealed to the higher-ranking Were that Ashi used to be and said he wanted to learn from someone whose skill was obviously superior to anyone else’s.

Ashi agreed to show Christoph some basic moves. Christoph was delighted.

Christoph was less delighted when he discovered that Ashi’s method of teaching was along the lines of, “Once I show you how to do this, I will hit you until you get the move right. You will know you got the move right when I can’t hit you anymore.”

So Christoph got hit. A lot.

Tae Kwon Do wasn’t his style. It was certainly Ashi’s style, but he knew other schools as well, so he agreed to teach Christoph judo. It went better, mostly because Christoph had much more bulk than Ashi and it was harder to throw him. Still, Ashi managed.

Which led to sparring in the living room when Thad and Sebastian weren’t around.

Which, in turn, led to Christoph taking down the living room door and winding up in a heap in the hallway, moaning in lament for his spine as Ashi barked, “What the hell happened to your right arm? Is it on vacation? Are you worried about your hand modeling career? Because I thought it was supposed to go behind my neck. And the door is your fault, by the way, since you didn’t move fast enough.”

Mouse stopped in her tracks at the top of the stairs.

One part of her sorely wanted to check on Christoph and make sure he was okay.

Another part of her was terrified of facing him after what happened yesterday.

Yet another part wanted to hit Ashi hard enough to turn him into a fine red mist.

A much larger part was very much aware of the blood trickling from the cuts and splinters Christoph received by getting so up close and personal with the door.

So she stood there, wide-eyed, torn between too many conflicting desires to move.

Christoph picked himself up and staggered back inside, grumbling. Ashi wasn’t even breaking a sweat. In fact, he was back in position and waiting for Christoph.

“Hurry up. You move like a buffalo in a slurry pit.”

Christoph didn’t know what a slurry pit was, but he took offense. He launched himself at Ashi, planted his feet and got his arm behind his neck, shoved down, and kicked out his knees, and suddenly Ashi was airborne. Just as he was about to grin, Ashi’s leg hooked around the back of Christoph’s neck and Christoph had to use some unfamiliar muscles just to stay on his feet. Ashi regained his footing and kicked Christoph back into the hallway in a very un-judo-like move.

“You’re not a total disappointment after all. I want you to come at me and go for
my
right side this time and—”

Christoph shoved off the wall and barreled into Ashi, drawing satisfaction from the look of surprise on the smaller man’s face just before Christoph’s shoulder made contact with his sternum. He spun around and hurled Ashi into the hallway and laughed triumphantly at the sound his head made when it thumped against the wall.

“Oh! The master just got schooled by the student! Who’s the alpha? Christoph’s the alpha!”

Ashi got up and staggered in a half-circle before leaning against the wall, obviously dazed.

It took a minute for it to sink in, but Mouse eventually realized that they were sparring. Not actually at each others’ throats.

God, if not for her momentary shock, she might very well have killed Ashi if she’d followed through with her usual behavioral patterns.

Shaking a little, she remained as still as she could, not moving from the top of the stairs since she didn’t want to attract Ashi’s attention while he was in the hall. Hopefully he would go right back inside. Her stance became predatory, weight shifting to the balls of her feet as she tensed in efforts to keep herself from falling on him. She really needed to stop waiting so long between feedings. The press of hunger made her want to pace him, follow his movements, close in and—

No
. She wasn’t going to do that. The muscles in her jaw twitched as she clenched her teeth together, fighting to keep her fangs from extending, feeling them slide into place anyway. The lure of blood and violence on the air was too much.

Ashi needed to hurry the hell up and get out of her way so she could retreat to Timothy’s room,
now
.

Ashi picked his way past the obliterated door and stepped into the apartment.

“Shut up. At least you can do some moves. We’ll take this up again tomorrow. Clean up that door.”

He went into the kitchen and filled a baggie with ice for his head.

Christoph stepped into the hallway and started picking up the bigger pieces. The doorjamb had taken some damage as well. He wasn’t looking forward to answering the inevitable, “Who did this?” He also wasn’t looking forward to picking splinters out of his arms. There was a rivulet of blood snaking down his right arm from his shoulder, tracing a vein-like pattern down his skin.

He looked down the hallway and spotted Mouse. Straightening, he looked sheepishly at the wreckage.

“Uh, I’m cleaning this up. I’ll pay for the door. It’s cool.”

She just stood there. He felt like he should say something.

“Look, I’m really sorry about the other day. I was an ass and you were just trying to help, I know. And, hell, you
did
help. I mean, you saved me. So, thanks. And I hope you don’t think I’m the worst guy in the world, because I try not to be, but sometimes I’m an idiot and it just sort of happens. Anyway, thanks. And I’m sorry. About wigging out. ʼCause I shouldn’t have.”

If he thought yesterday had been bad, he’d go into conniptions if he had the faintest clue what was going through Mouse’s head at that moment. Before she could stop herself, she’d moved closer, the urge to latch onto that cut making her fangs ache.

She couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. An apology. Fine. That was great. She nodded a little too vehemently and forced herself to keep moving, trying to making her surge toward him look a little more natural, a little less like she was stalking him.

Good
God
, her mouth felt dry.

Keeping her head bowed, she had to close her eyes when she edged past so she wouldn’t have the added visual temptation. And to keep him from spotting the first glimmers of red creeping into her irises.

She
did
make it past him without pinning him to a wall. That was a plus. The hard part was over. She could make it to Timothy’s.

She didn’t quite run, but it was close.

Christoph sighed and continued to pick up the pieces of the door. He really sucked at this apologizing thing. Maybe he should ask Analie what to do. She’d been here a while, she’d know.

“Crap, I have no clue.”

Christoph’s expression turned from eager to despairing. After speaking to Mouse, he went downstairs to ask Analie what to do, but so far she hadn’t been much help. She shrugged and went back to cutting up a sheet of fun foam.

“I think you just have to ride this out. I don’t know what you could do to make amends other than letting her bite you. Which makes me lose the bet.”

Christoph glared at her. “Oh, fuck you.”

Analie stuck her tongue out at him.

Christoph shook his head and headed out of the room.

“Hey,” Analie called after him. “Ask Jessica. She’s like the Vampire Whisperer or something.”

Christoph nodded and went in search of Jessica. He also needed to find who was in charge of maintenance and let them know that he destroyed the door.

Mouse and Tim had curled up on the couch in the living room of his apartment together. He had been about to leave for the office when she arrived.

After she took her fill, he was far too wiped out and shaky to go anywhere. She felt horrible for taking so much, and fussed over him like a mother hen, getting him a blanket and making him tea, holding him and running her fingers through his short, mousy brown hair and setting his glasses aside as he gradually eased off into sleep. His roommates thoughtfully stuck to their rooms, giving them privacy.

Mouse felt awful.

She’d waited too long, took too much, and, now that Timothy was passed out, no longer woozily talking to her, she had too much time to think about how right Max was. Only a monster would do something like to this someone. Only a monster would hurt the ones they loved.

Jessica was studying at the kitchen table and ready to throw some books across the room. Any excuse to get away for a while would be welcome. Like Timothy, she’d “paid her dues” and was too lightheaded to concentrate. Royce had visited her before leaving for the office. He’d promised to spend more time with her later in the week, so she wasn’t too terribly disappointed that he’d only come to her for a few minutes.

Christoph knocked on the door to her apartment and waited, fiddling with the large band-aid on his shoulder. The wound had already closed and had left only a tiny red spot showing through the plastic and gauze.