Лорел Гамильтон - Guilty Pleasures

“Is this the only way you get any sex, forcing yourself on someone? Are you as ugly in human form as you are right now?”

He hissed at me, mouth wide, teeth bared. A sound rose out of his body, deep and high, a whining growl. I'd never heard a sound like it before. It rose up and down and filled the room with violent, hissing echoes. His shoulders crouched.

I held my breath. I had pissed him off. Now we would see if my plan worked, or if he killed me. He leaped forward. I dropped to the floor, but he was ready for it. Incredible speed and he was on me, snarling, claws reaching, screaming in my face.

I bunched my legs against my chest, of he would have been on top of me. He put one claw-hand on my knees and began to push. I tucked arms over my knees, fighting him. It was like fighting steel that moved. He screamed again, high and hissing, spittle raining on me. He went up on his knees to get a better angle at forcing my legs down. I kicked outward, everything I had. He saw it coming and tried to move back, but both feet hit him square between the legs. The impact lifted him off his knees, and he collapsed to the landing, claws scrambling on the stone. He was making a high, whining, breathy sound. He couldn't seem to get enough air.

A second ratman came scrambling through the tunnel, and rats ran everywhere, squeaking and squealing. I just sat there on the landing as far away from the writhing blond ratman as I could get. I stared at the new ratman, feeling tired and angry.

Dammit, it should have worked. The bad guys weren't allowed reinforcements when I was already outnumbered. This one's fur was black, jet absolute black. He wore a pair of jean cutoffs over his slightly bent legs. He motioned, smooth and out from his body.

I swallowed my heart, pulse thudding. My skin crawled with the memory of small bodies sliding over me. My hand throbbed where the rat had bitten me. They'd tear me apart. “Jean-Claude!”

The rats moved, a flowing brownish tide, away from the stairs. The rats ran squeaking and shrilling into the tunnel. All I could do was stare.

The giant rats hissed at him, gesturing with noses and paws at the fallen giant rat. “She was defending herself. What were you doing?” The ratman's voice was low and deep, slurred only around the edges. If I had closed my eyes, I might have said it was human.

I didn't close my eyes. The giant rats left, crouch-dragging their still unconscious friend. He wasn't dead, but he was hurt. One giant rat glanced up at me as the others vanished into the tunnel. Its empty black eye glared at me, promised me painful things if we ever met again.

The blond ratman had stopped writhing and was lying very still, panting, hands cradling himself. The new ratman said, “I told you never to come here.”

The first ratman struggled to sit up. The movement seemed to hurt. “The master called and I obeyed.”

“I am your king. You obey me.” The black-furred rat began to stride up the stairs, tail lashing angrily, almost catlike.

I stood and put the cell door at my back for the umpteenth time that night.

The hurt ratman said, “You are only our king until you die. If you stand against the master, that will be soon. She is powerful, more powerful than you.” His voice still sounded weak, thready, but he was recovering. Anger will do that to you.

The rat king leaped, a black blur in motion. He jerked the ratman off his feet, holding him with slightly bent elbows, feet dangling off the ground. He held him close to his face. “I am your king, and you will obey me or I will kill you.” Clawed hands dug into the blond ratman's throat, until he scrambled for air. The rat king tossed the ratman down the stairs. He fell tumbling and nearly boneless.

He glared up from the bottom in a painful, gasping heap. The hatred in his eyes would have lit a bonfire.

“Are you all right?” the new ratman asked.

It took me a minute to realize he was speaking to me. I nodded. Apparently I was being rescued, not that I had need of it. Of course not. “Thank you.”

“I did not come to save you,” he said. “I have forbidden my people to hunt for the vampire. That is why I came.”

“Well, I know where I rate, somewhere above a flea. Thank you anyway. Whatever your motives.”

He nodded. “You are welcome.”

I noticed a burn scar on his left forearm. It was the shape of a crude crown. Someone had branded him. “Wouldn't it be easier just to carry around a crown and scepter?”

He glanced down at his arm, then gave that rat smile, teeth bare. “This leaves my hands free.”

I looked up into his eyes to see if he was teasing me, and I couldn't tell. You try reading rat faces.

“What do the vampires want with you?” he asked.

“They want me to work for them.”

“Do it. They'll hurt you if you don't.”

“Like they'll hurt you if you keep the rats away?”

He shrugged, an awkward motion. “Nikolaos thinks she is queen of the rats because that is her animal to call. We are not merely rats, but men, and we have a choice. I have a choice.”

“Do what she wants, and she won't hurt you,” I said.

Again that smile. “I give good advice. I do not always take it.”

“Me either,” I said.

He stared at me out of one black eye, then turned towards the door. “They are coming.”

I knew who “they” were. The party was over. The vampires were coming. The rat king sprang down the stairs and scooped up the fallen ratman. He tossed him over his shoulder as if it were no effort, then he was gone, running for the tunnel, fast, fast as a mouse surprised by the kitchen light. A dark blur.

I heard heels clicking down the hallway, and I stepped away from the door. It opened, and Theresa stood on the landing. She stared down at me and the empty room, hands on hips, mouth squeezed tight. “Where are they?”

I held up my wounded hand. “They did their part, then they left.”

“They weren't supposed to leave,” she said. Theresa made an exasperated sound low in her throat. “It was that rat king of theirs, wasn't it?”

I shrugged. “They left; I don't know why.”

“So calm, so unafraid. Didn't the rats frighten you?”

I shrugged again. When something works, stay with it.

“They were not supposed to draw blood.” She stared at me. “Are you going to shape shift next full moon?” Her voice held a hint of curiosity. Curiosity killed the vampire. One could always hope.

“No,” I said, and I left it at that. No explanation. If she really wanted one, she could just beat me against the wall until I told her what she wanted to hear. She wouldn't even break a sweat. Of course, Aubrey was being punished for hurting me.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. “The rats were supposed to frighten you, animator. They don't seem to have done their duty.”

“Maybe I don't frighten that easily.” I met her eyes without any effort. They were just eyes.

Theresa grinned at me suddenly, flashing fang. “Nikolaos will find something that frightens you, animator. For fear is power.” She whispered the last as if afraid to say it too loud.

What did vampires fear? Did visions of sharpened stakes and garlic haunt them, or were there worse things? How do you frighten the dead?

“Walk in front of me, animator. Go meet your master.”

“Isn't Nikolaos your master as well, Theresa?”

She stared at me, face blank, as if the laughter had been an illusion. Her eyes were cold and dark. The rats' eyes had held more personality. “Before the night is out, animator, Nikolaos will be everyone's master.”

I shook my head. “I don't think so.”

“Jean-Claude's power has made you foolish.”

“No,” I said, “it isn't that.”

“Then what, mortal?”