Лорел Гамильтон - Danse Macabre

«Don't let her mind-fuck you,» Pierce said.

«You heard her call, too,» Cookie said. «You couldn't say no, either.»

«But I don't want to go to her. I don't want her to use me.» He turned the other man so he was facing away from the bed. Cookie had a tattoo of Cookie Monster, as in Sesame Street , on his right shoulder. A happy little Cookie Monster eating cookies. So the hair color wasn't an accident.

«I want her to use me.»

«Fight it,» Pierce said.

«I don't want to fight it,» Cookie said.

«If our master were awake, you would not dare do this,» Octavius said. He walked around them both, walked closer to the bed. Claudia and Lisandro stepped between him and the bed. But it was when he saw Jean-Claude stepping out from the wall that his face fell apart. Fear, fear and confusion, chased over his face. He was totally shocked to see Jean-Claude there. He fought, and finally mastered his face. But the first look was enough, the first look and his remark that Augustine was asleep. For the first time I figured it out. It wasn't that we'd slept the day away and Claudia and the rest were back on duty. It was that we'd barely been asleep at all, and Jean-Claude had not died at dawn. He, like Damian, did not die at dawn if he slept touching me.

Octavius gave arrogance, but shelved the anger, as if he didn't want to start the fight. He bowed. «Jean-Claude, I did not think you would be up. I did not see you standing there. I do have better manners than this; my anger made me forget myself. Please, forgive me.» His words were clear, but he said them a little too fast. I think it was his version of babbling nervously.

«There is nothing to forgive, Octavius — if you do not hinder us, that is.»

Octavius faced him, and nothing could keep the discomfort out of the set of his shoulders. «Hinder you in what way?»

Jean-Claude stood before the man, still nude, but as comfortable as any of the shapeshifters. He wore his body as if it were the most costly robe in the world, or as if he were not aware he was naked. «Augustine said that these two werelions are supposed to be pomme de sang candidates for ma petite .»

Octavius gave a small nod. «That is true.»

«We may have been too hasty with our rejection of them earlier. I believe that there were errors of etiquette on both sides, would you not say that was true?»

«Perhaps, perhaps we were all a little hasty earlier,» Octavius admitted, his voice showing that he wasn't sure where this was going, and was trying to be cautious without being insulting. I think if Jean-Claude hadn't been standing there, and his own master dead to the world, he'd have been less cautious and more angry. Hell, if it had just been me and the shapeshifters, I think he'd just have told us to go fuck ourselves, or some polite version of that.

« Ma petite would taste one of your lions now. I think in light of all that has happened it might be well to cement a stronger tie with your master. We are, after all, two of the most powerful masters in this country, and between us we are certainly the most powerful territories in the middle of this country.» I followed the phrasing. It implied, but did not say, that between the two of them they could rule the middle of this country, and wouldn't it be better to be allies than enemies? Or maybe I was actually picking up a little of Jean-Claude's thoughts, just a touch. He had no intention of doing some sort of war of conquest, but to imply it gave us both the leverage of fear and greed. Fear of being our enemy, and greed to take part in the spoils if we did decide to conquer. Jean-Claude played him.

Octavius licked his lips, then stood a little straighter as if he'd realized he was slumping. «Perhaps. I know that Augustine's intent was to offer the lions as pommes de sang . Or as barter for one of your females.»

«I do not barter my people. I believe ma petite made that clear to your master.»

Octavius nodded. «Yes, very clear.» Anger threaded through his voice, and he fought it off, so that his next words were empty and inoffensive. «I think it would please my master if you found his pomme de sang candidates worthy of attention.»

Jean-Claude looked at me then. His face was empty, lovely, but it was his voice in my head, soft, the merest brush of contact, that told me what he wanted. «Call them.»

I held my hand out to them, and said, «Come to me.»

Cookie turned immediately, only Pierce's hand on his arm stopping him. «Don't make me fight you, Pierce.»

«If he is not strong enough to resist,» Octavius said, «release him to his fate.»

Cookie looked at Octavius. «You don't understand; I don't want to resist her. I want her to take me.»

Pierce tried to turn Cookie back to him. «Don't you see, that's wrong. She's already rolled you, man. She's already done you, and you don't even know it.»

«Maybe, but if that's what's happening, I'm okay with it.» The edge of smile I had seen vanished, and his voice was low and serious when he said, «Take your hands off me, Pierce. I won't ask again.»

«Let him go,» Octavius said. «That is an order, Pierce.»

Pierce gave him an angry look, but he let the other man go. He even raised his hands in the air, as if it wasn't his fault.

There was a small part of me that wanted to see if I could force Pierce to come too, but Cookie was coming. One lion was enough, for now.

CLAUDIA STOPPED HIM, standing in his way, towering over him. It was probably the first time he'd met a woman tall enough and muscular enough to do that. Just seeing his reaction to it would say a lot about him.

«Call your rat off, Blake,» Cookie said.

«Give up the gun and I move,» she said.

«I was more armed than this when she touched me earlier.»

«Then you were bodyguarding your master, now you're about to get up close and personal with one of mine.» Her voice was low and matter-of-fact. I thought it was interesting that she implied I was one of her masters. News to me.

I could see one shoulder enough to know he shrugged, then he must have handed the gun over, because Claudia moved aside.

He padded toward the bed on bare feet, the first button of his jeans already undone. Had it been before, or had he caught the gun on it as he pulled? The last would be careless. Was he careless?

I was way too calm. I watched him come toward the bed with a detachment that surprised me. It was like a type of shock, almost, or… the lion was utterly dispassionate about the man walking toward us. In some ways animals are more reactive than we are; people mistake that for emotion, but it's not. There was no emotion from the cat in my head. She waited. Waited with a sort of cold, wary patience, as if she could have watched him forever, and felt nothing. It was his choice whether we got along, or chased him away. If he did something stupid, or weak, she wouldn't accept him. She'd kill him before she'd accept him, but there was no passion to the decision. It was colder than any thought I'd ever had, except when I'd decided to kill. Then there is a moment of cold clarity, a moment of something that is almost peaceful. My moment of peaceful sociopathy was stretched to an eternity in the head of that big cat.

Nathaniel moved, and that made me turn to him, but the lion in my head roared at me, swiped a claw across the inside of my body. She let me know that she needed my eyes and had no interest in leopard. The pain of her claws spasmed through me. I was partially healed from what I'd done with Nathaniel, but that one swipe showed me that I was still hurt. Hurt in places that there'd be no way to bandage. Part of me wanted to fight her, and turn to Nathaniel, but I knew if I did, she'd do worse. I fought my own stubbornness for a moment, eyes closed, concentrating. Trying to decide if I'd grown up enough to let this small loss go, or if I had to win at every damn thing. If I let the lion think it could boss me around, would that set a bad precedent for later? Then a thought came to me; the lion was me. I was fighting with myself. How terribly Freudian, or would it be Jungian? Either way, how strangely me.