Robert Crane - Soulless

“Older men have their advantages. Experience, patience…” She grinned at me wickedly.

I stared back, and I felt the flush come to my cheeks. “How can you…I mean…you could kill someone.”

“Pffffft.” She waved her hand at me. “First of all, it takes a while for your touch to kill someone; you oughta know that. Second, you just have to be careful, making sure that things are as covered as you can get them…after that, it’s all about using strength and muscle control.” The bartender set another drink next to her and it was in her hand, then in front of her mouth, hiding her grin. “Just because you’re a soul-draining succubus doesn’t mean you have to live some kind of virginal life as a nun. I mean, even your mother didn’t buy into that idea, and she was the most stiff, serious—”

“Ah, okay.” I cringed, interrupting her. “I could have done with a little more exposition and a little less color commentary on that one.” I let my expression soften. “But thanks for the info. I was…struggling with some of that.”

She pulled the glass from in front of her mouth after taking a long drink. “That’s what I’m here for, niece: to teach you all the things that Mommy can’t.” She giggled. “That’s why I’m the coolest aunt. Now, how about we take your newfound knowledge over to the table in the corner and you can find out what I mean?”

I looked back at the guys she was indicating. I felt a reaction, a wave of no, no and hell no. “Um, no. There’s not one of them that’s my type.”

She shrugged, indifferent. “Suit yourself. Sit over here and be a black hole of excitement. In a place like this, you take what you can get. Sometimes it surprises you what you’ll find.” She stood, draining the last of her drink, and walked over to the table with the guys. When she was a few feet away, they all sat up and took notice of her, especially when she leaned over once she reached the table. I heard her tone, not her words, and it sounded conversational, almost confessional, like she was telling something to an old friend she hadn’t seen in a long time. One of them got up and dragged a chair over for her. She sat in it, giving him a smile and running a hand along his exposed forearm, eliciting a shiver from him.

I turned back to the bar and stared at my drink, wondering why I couldn’t do what Charlie could. I wasn’t that outgoing, that confident, that fearless. Sure, I didn’t have any interest in any of those guys because they were way too old for me, but even if they’d been a table full of guys my age, all hot, I still wouldn’t have had the guts to do what she did. I turned and watched the easy manner with which she wrapped them all around her finger, with a joke that had them all laughing, with a gentle caress on the back that left the man on the receiving end wanting more.

All I’d had thus far was Zack, and he wasn’t exactly wrapped around my finger. I mean, I’d pretty much driven him away because I was afraid I’d hurt him. Even the revelation that Charlie had given me, that there were ways we could be intimate without him getting hurt, sounded awfully risky (not to mention fairly devoid of any romance), maybe moreso to me because I wasn’t really sure how it all worked. I mean, I’d only ever kissed him for three to four seconds before I had to stop, and she was talking about protection and muscle control – it was bizarre and exciting and scary as hell all at once, but I didn’t know which feeling was heaviest.

Also, I’d let him go. I felt a twinge of guilt and pain, and took a drink to bury that feeling under the rush that the liquor granted, that heady sensation that would be making me drift oh-so-pleasantly in just a few more minutes. Of course the aftereffects would suck, but since when do teenagers worry about consequences? I took another drink, trying to banish that thought. Self-awareness was a curse, a terrible curse. The ice clinked in the bottom of my glass and I realized I had downed the whole thing without noticing.

I started to wave over the barman, but he was already coming with another. His face was almost gaunt, his eyes sunken when he set the Whiskey Sour in front of me. “Here you go,” he said.

“Okay, but after this I’m done.” I picked up the drink and took a swig.

“And your friend?” He nodded toward Charlie and I turned to see the whole table laughing again, every one of the men paying rapt attention to her, leaning over each other to tell her something, to catch her attention. I watched the way she twirled her hair, the way she laughed at them, smiled. “You gonna keep paying for her?”

I handed him my credit card, the personal one, not the one from the Directorate. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess she can probably convince those guys to buy her a round or two, but give her one more on my tab, then close it out.”

He smiled at me. “Done deal.”

I looked down at my drink, studying the amber liquid in my glass broken by the white of the ice cubes and the red of the maraschino cherry that floated on top. I pulled out the cherry and popped it into my mouth, leaving the stem on the napkin that held my drink. I took another long sip and thought again about Zack. Maybe I’d been hasty. Or maybe I’d been sane. I looked back at Charlie and wondered how she could be so cavalier, so quick with her touch when it could be so harmful, so deadly if she wasn’t careful.

“You’re prettier than her.” There was a voice at my elbow and I looked to see a familiar face. His hair was spiked, and his handsome features looked slightly more rugged tonight, though his shirt was still unbuttoned at the top. James smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Don’t doubt it for a second; she may have the attention of those geezers, but you’re the knockout in this bar.”

“James.” I said his name with a certain amusement that was probably fueled by the drinks that I was starting to feel the effects of. A little tinkle of suspicion was present too, far back in my mind. I think I might have let slip the barest hint of a smile as I looked back at him again.

“Sienna.” He dazzled me with his in return. It started slow, but got pretty powerful pretty quick. I ignored the flutter in my stomach. “Mind if I sit with you?”

I waved a hand vaguely at the stool. “Yesterday you’re in Owatonna, today you’re in Eau Claire. Are you following me?”

“Can I be honest?” He took off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of the seat before sitting down next to me.

“I’d prefer it, actually. What kind of a girl says, ‘No, please lie to me’?” The suspicious part of me was gaining traction.

“A surprising number, actually,” he said, keeping it cool. “Though usually not in so many words. Anyway, I’m here because of you.”

“Oh?” I took a sip, a very small one, and kept my hand ready in case I had to reach for a weapon. “I have a stalker?”

The bartender set a beer in front of him and he took a long pull. “Nah. I told you I was a recruiter, didn’t I?”

“Hmmm.” I thought about it. He probably had, but all I remembered was his lips. “I believe you did. So you’re here to recruit me?”

“If I can.” He had stopped paying attention to the beer.

“You recruit a lot of people away from the FBI?” I turned on my stool to face him, letting my arm rest on the side of the bar.

“No,” he said. “But I’ve recruited a few people away from the Directorate.” He kept his body facing toward the bar, but his eyes were on me.

I felt a chill, a little one, and I knew my eyes widened. “How did you find me here?”

He looked away. “Not the hardest thing to do. Go to a town where an Omega safehouse gets hit in the morning, go to all the hotel bars and look for the prettiest succubus around.” He looked back at me, and was smiling again.