Лорел Гамильтон - Guilty Pleasures

Edward had taken a table near them, but not too near. He had hunted lycanthropes before; he knew what to look for as well.

As I passed the table, one of the men looked up. Pure brown eyes, so dark they were almost black, stared into mine. His face was square, body slender, small build, muscles worked in his arms as he folded his hands under his chin and looked at me. I stared back; then I was past him and to the booth where the Rat King sat.

He was tall, at least six feet, dark brown skin, with thick, shortcut black hair, brown eyes. His face was thin, arrogant, lips almost too soft for the haughty expression he gave me. He was darkly handsome, strongly Mexican, and his suspicion rode the air like lightning.

I eased into the booth. I took a deep, steadying breath and looked across the counter at him.

“I got your message. What do you want?” His voice was soft but deep, without a trace of accent.

“I want you to lead myself and at least one man into the tunnels beneath the Circus of the Damned.”

His frown deepened, forming faint wrinkles between his eyes. “Why should I do this for you?”

“Do you want your people free of the master's influence?”

He nodded. Still frowning.

I was really winning him over. “Guide us in through the dungeon entrance, and I'll take care of it”

He clasped his hands together on the table. “How can I trust you?”

“I am not a bounty hunter. I have never harmed a lycanthrope.”

“We cannot fight beside you if you go against her. Even I cannot fight her. She calls to me. I don't answer, but I feel it. I can keep the small rats and my people from helping her against you, but that is all.”

“Just get us inside. We'll do the rest.”

“Are you so confident?”

“I'm willing to bet my life on it,” I said.

He steepled his fingers against his lips, elbows on the table. 3 The burn scar in his forearm was still there even in human form, a rough, four-pointed crown. “I'll get you inside,” he said.

I smiled. “Thank you.”

He stared at me. “When you come back out alive, then you can thank me.”

“It's a deal.” I held my hand out. After a moment's hesitation, he took it. We shook on it.

“You wish to wait a few days?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “I want to go in tomorrow.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Are you sure?”

“Why? Is that a problem?”

“You are hurt. I thought you might wish to heal.”

I was a little bruised, and my throat hurt, but … “How did you know?”

“You smell like death has brushed you close tonight”

I stared at him. Irving never does this to me, the supernatural powers bit. I'm not saying he can't, but he works hard at being human. This man did not.

I took a deep breath. “That is my business.”

He nodded. “We will call you and give you the place and time.”

I stood up. He remained sitting. There didn't seem to be anything else to say, so I left.

About ten minutes later Edward got into the car with me. “What now?” he asked.

“You mentioned your hotel room. I'm going to sleep while I can.”

“And tomorrow?”

“You take me out and show me how the shotgun works.”

“Then?” he asked.

“Then we go after Nikolaos,” I said.

He gave a shaky breath, almost a laugh. “Oh, boy.”

Oh, boy? “Glad to see someone is enjoying all this.”

He grinned at me. “I love my work,” he said.

I had to smile. Truth was, I loved my work, too.

During the day I learned how to use a shotgun. That night I went caving with wererats.

The cave was dark. I stood in absolute blackness, gripping my flashlight. I touched my hand to my forehead and couldn't see a damn thing but the funny white images your eyes make when there is no light. I was wearing a hard hat with a light on it, turned off at present. The wererats had insisted on it. All around me were sounds. Cries, moans, the popping of bone, a curious sliding sound like a knife drawing out of flesh. The wererats were changing from human to animal. It sounded like it hurt-a lot. They had made me swear not to turn on a light until they told me to.

I had never wanted to see so badly in my life. It couldn't be so horrible. Could it? But a promise is a promise. I sounded like Horton the Elephant. “A person is a person no matter how small.” What the hell was I doing standing in the middle of a cave, in the dark, surrounded by wererats, quoting Dr. Seuss, and trying to kill a one-thousand-year-old vampire?

It had been one of my stranger weeks.

Rafael, the Rat King, said, “You may turn on your lights.”

I did, instantly. My eyes seemed to leech on the light, eager to see. The ratmen stood in small groups in the wide, flat-roofed tunnel. There were ten of them. I had counted them in human form. Now the seven males were fur-covered and wearing jean cutoffs. Two wore loose t-shirts. The three women wore loose dresses, like maternity clothes. Their black button eyes glittered in the light. Everybody was furry.

Edward came to stand near me. He was staring at the weres, face distant, unreadable. I touched his arm. I had told Rafael that I was not a bounty hunter, but Edward was, sometimes. I hoped I had not endangered these people.

“Are you ready?” Rafael asked. He was the same sleek black ratman I remembered.

“Yes,” I said.

Edward nodded.

The wererats scattered to either side of us, scrambling over low, weathered flowstone. I said to no one in particular, “I thought caves were damp.”

A smaller ratman in a t-shirt said, “Cherokee Caverns is dead cave.”

“I don't understand.”

“Live cave has water and growing formations. A dry cave where none of the formations are growing is called dead cave.”

“Oh,” I said.

He drew lips back from huge teeth, a smile, I think. “More than you wanted to know, huh?”

Rafael hissed back, “We are not here to give guided tours, Louie. Now be quiet, both of you.”

Louie shrugged and scrambled ahead of me. He was the same human that had been with Rafael in the restaurant, the one with the dark eyes.

One of the females was nearly grey-furred. Her name was Lillian, and she was a doctor. She carried a backpack full of medical supplies. They seemed to be planning on us getting hurt. At least that meant they thought we would come out alive. I was beginning to wonder about that part myself.

Two hours later the ceiling dropped to a point where I couldn't stand upright. And I learned what the hard hats they had given Edward and me were for. I scraped my head on the rock at least a thousand times. I'd have knocked myself unconscious long before we saw Nikolaos.

The rats seemed designed for the tunnel, sliding along, flattening their bodies in a strange, scrambling grace. Edward and I could not match it. Not even close.

He cursed softly behind me. His five inches of extra height were causing him pain. My lower back was an aching burn. He had to be in worse shape. There were pockets where the ceiling opened up and we could stand. I started looking very forward to them, like air pockets to a diver.

The quality of darkness changed. Light-there was light up ahead, not much, but it was there. It flickered at the far end of the tunnel like a mirage.

Rafael crouched beside us. Edward sat flat on the dry rock. I joined him. “There is your dungeon. We will wait here until near dark. If you have not come out, we will leave. After Nikolaos is dead, if we can, we will help you.”

I nodded; the light on my hard hat nodded with me. “Thank you for helping us.”

He shook his narrow, ratty face. “I have delivered you to the devil's door. Do not thank me for that.”