Anita Blake 12 - Incubus Dreams Read online

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  A car squealed out of the parking lot, as Jason walked me back to the Jeep. I only had a moment to see it, before it blasted out into the street, but I recognized the car. Apparently Ronnie was driving them home, but the fight wasn’t over. Not my problem. God knew I had enough relationship problems without sticking my nose into someone else’s. Of course, sometimes no matter how hard you try to stay out of something, you can’t.

  “Can I grab a ride home?” It was Louie Fane, Dr. Louis Fane, though his doctorate wasn’t in the biology of humans, but in the biology of bats. His doctoral thesis had been on the adaption of the Little Brown Bat to human habitation. Actually his work with bats, a different species, had put him in a cave with a wererat that attacked him. It’s how he got to be furry once a month.

  “Sure,” Jason and I said in unison.

  Louie smiled. “I just need one ride, but thanks.” His eyes, which were truly black, not just darkest brown like mine, didn’t match the smile. The eyes were still angry.

  “His place is on the way to the Circus,” Jason said.

  I nodded. “Okay.” I looked at Louie and wanted to ask what the fight had been about, and didn’t want to ask what the fight had been about. I settled for, “Are you okay?”

  He shook his head. “Ronnie will probably call you tomorrow and tell you anyway. I guess you might as well know, or maybe you can talk some sense into her.”

  I gave a half-shrug. “I don’t know. Ronnie can be pretty stubborn.”

  Jason laughed. “You calling someone else stubborn, that’s rich.”

  I frowned at him. “You sure you don’t want to ride home with us, instead of Mr. Comedy here?”

  He shook his head. “I’m on Jason’s way home.” He still hadn’t told us what the fight was about. Was I supposed to remind him, or let it go?

  “Do you want some privacy here?” Jason asked.

  Louie sighed. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll say good night to Micah and Nathaniel, and I’ll be waiting by my car.” He waved at me and walked away.

  For the second, no, the third time that night I was standing out in the cool shadows of the trees getting a heart-to-heart talk with another man. This one wasn’t even my boyfriend or occasional food.

  “What’s wrong, Louie?”

  “I asked Ronnie to marry me tonight.”

  I’d been prepared for a lot of things, but that hadn’t even occurred to me. Marriage? I just gaped at him. When I could close my mouth and pretend to be intelligent, I said, “And why the fight, then?”

  “She said, no.” He didn’t look at me as he said it. He stared off into the dark, his hands plunged into the pockets of his dress slacks, ruining the line of his jacket, but giving him something to do with his hands.

  “She said, no,” I repeated it, as if I hadn’t heard it right.

  He glanced at me then. “You sound surprised.”

  “Well, last I knew you guys were getting along really well.” Actually, the last time Ronnie had confided in me it had been a conversation that had set us both giggling, because it had been mostly about sex. We’d both overshared, which women do more than men, and the sex had been as good between her and Louie as it had been between me and Micah. Which was pretty damned good. Ronnie had had this mistaken idea that dating Micah meant I’d dumped Jean-Claude. When she found out it didn’t mean that, she’d not taken it well. She just couldn’t seem to cope with me dating the undead. Picky, picky. I could joke, but her last stand on Jean-Claude had been adamant enough that we hadn’t talked much since.

  “It’s all wonderful, Anita. That’s what is so…” he seemed to search for a word, and settled for, “frustrating!”

  “So, you guys are getting along great?” I made it a question.

  “I thought so, maybe I was wrong?” He paced two steps away from me, then back. “No, damn it, I wasn’t wrong. It’s been the best two years of my life. Nothing starts my day off better than waking up beside her. I want to start every day like that. Is that so wrong?”

  “No, Louie, that’s not wrong.”

  “Then why did we just have the biggest fight we’ve ever had?” His dark face was demanding, as if I had the answer and just wouldn’t give it to him.

  “I’ll call Ronnie tomorrow, if she doesn’t call me first. I’ll talk to her.”

  “She says she doesn’t want to marry anyone. She says, if she married anyone, it would be me, but she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to.” The pain in his voice was so raw, it hurt to hear it.

  “I am so sorry.” I started to touch his arm, thought better of it, and said, “Maybe you could just live together?”

  “I offered that. I offered to just live together until she was ready for more.” He was staring off into the darkness, again, as if he didn’t want me to see what was in his eyes.

  “She said no to that, too?” I asked.

  “She doesn’t want to give up her independence. Her independence is one of the things I love most about her.”

  “I know that,” I said, and my voice was soft, because it was all I had to offer.

  He looked at me. “You know that, then can you tell her?”

  “I’ll do everything I can to reassure her that you’re not trying to clip her wings.”

  “Is that it? Is she just afraid I’ll take away her freedom?”

  “I don’t know, Louie. Truthfully, if you’d asked me beforehand, I’d have said, she’d say, yes.”

  “Really,” he said, and he was studying my face now. Studying it as if the secrets to the universe were somehow hidden in my eyes. I preferred him staring out into the dark for his answers instead of in my face. I wasn’t sure what the darkness had to offer him, but I knew I didn’t have any answers.

  “Yeah, Louie, really. Last I knew she was the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

  “So I wasn’t just fooling myself?” he asked, and he was still giving me those raw, demanding eyes.

  “No, Louie, you weren’t fooling yourself.”

  “Then why?” he asked. “Why?”

  I shrugged, and had to say something, because he was still staring at me. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” It sounded so inadequate, sorry. But it was all I had to offer tonight.

  He nodded, a little too rapidly, as he turned away, and stared out into the dark again. I knew he wasn’t really seeing the yard that bordered the church. I knew he was just staring to be staring, and not to have to meet anyone’s eyes for a while, but it was sort of unnerving. Unnerving to think that whatever he was feeling was so strong that he had to hide his eyes, so I wouldn’t see. It reminded me of the way Dolph had turned away at the murder scene. And, in a way, they were both hiding the same thing—pain.

  He turned away from the dark and gave me his eyes again. They were raw, and I had to fight to not turn away myself. My rule was always if someone could feel the emotion, the least I could do was not turn away.

  “It looks like your sweetheart is coming this way.”

  I glanced back to find Micah walking slowly toward us. Normally, he wouldn’t have interrupted, but we were on a deadline tonight. Time and the ardeur wait for no man. I would have explained that Micah wasn’t being rude, that we had to go, but I wasn’t sure Louie knew about the ardeur, and I hated to explain it to people who didn’t know. It always sounded so… odd.

  “How long have you and Micah been living together?” he asked.

  “About four months.”

  “Ronnie and you haven’t been hanging out much since he moved in with you, have you?”

  I thought about it, then said, “I guess not. She didn’t like that I’m still dating Jean-Claude.”

  Louie watched Micah walking toward us. His face looked thoughtful. “Maybe that wasn’t it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe it was having someone live with you. Maybe that’s what she couldn’t handle.”

  “She said it was me dating a vamp.”
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  “Ronnie said a lot of things,” he said, voice softer, less angry, more puzzled. He shook himself like a dog coming out of water, and managed to give me a smile. It left his eyes sad, but it was a start. “Maybe she just couldn’t stand to see you committing yourself to somebody, not that much.”

  I shrugged, because I didn’t think that was it, but I couldn’t blame him for thinking it. “I don’t know.”

  He gave me that smile again, his eyes like dark hopeless pools. “You go home, Anita, and enjoy it.” I caught a glitter of tears before he turned away and looked out into the dark again.

  I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to hug him? If it had been a girlfriend, I probably would have. But it wasn’t, he wasn’t, and I didn’t need any more complications tonight. I did the guy thing, and patted him awkwardly on the back. Whether I would have worked up to a full-blown hug, I don’t know, because Micah was beside us.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s been nearly an hour since we hit the parking lot.” It was his subtle way of reminding me that sometimes an hour was all we got from the time I squashed the ardeur down to the time it resurfaced.

  I took the hint. With Micah beside me, I felt more secure. If the ardeur had risen, he’d have been there to see that nothing disastrous happened. I slid my arm through Louie’s arm and bumped my head against his shoulder. “Come on, Louie, we’ll walk you to Jason’s car.”

  He nodded, as if he didn’t trust his voice, and was careful not to look at either of us as we walked him toward the lights of the parking lot. Micah pretended that nothing was wrong. I pretended that there were no tears to see. I kept my hold on his arm all the way to where Jason waited standing beside his car.

  Jason opened the passenger side door for Louie, giving me a questioning look over Louie’s shoulder.

  I started to shake my head, but Louie hugged me. Hugged me suddenly, and fiercely, so tight it took my breath away. I thought he’d say something, but he didn’t. He just held on, and I wrapped my arms around his back, held him, because I couldn’t not hold him. About the time I thought I was going to have to think of something to say, he stepped back. He’d been crying while he held me, but I hadn’t felt a single sob, nothing, but the fierceness in his arms, his hands, and silent tears.

  He blinked and gave Micah an odd smile, that was almost a sob. “How did you talk her into moving in with you?”

  “I moved in with her,” he said, voice very quiet, very even, a careful voice, reserved for frightened children, and overly emotional adults. I’d heard that voice often enough aimed at me. “And she asked me.”

  “Lucky,” Louie said, and that one word sounded like it meant anything but, lucky.

  “I know,” Micah said, and he put an arm around my shoulders and moved me just a little back from Louie, so there was room for him to get through the open car door.

  Louie nodded again, too rapidly, and too many times. “Lucky.” He slid into the car, and Jason shut the door behind him.

  Jason leaned into me. “What just happened?”

  It wasn’t my secret to tell, but it felt like dirty pool sending Jason to drive Louie home without warning him. “It’s his secret to tell, not mine. I’m sorry. But let’s just say he’s had a rough night.”

  Louie knocked on the window. The sound made both Jason and me jump. Micah had either seen it coming, or had better nerves than we did. Jason moved back enough so the door could open. “Don’t bother to whisper this close to the car. I can hear you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t be, it’s not like he didn’t see the fight. Tell him, so I don’t have to.” And Louie closed the door again. He leaned his head back against the seat, and more of those completely silent tears began to escape him.

  We all looked away, as if it were somehow shameful to watch. I think we’d have been less embarrassed if he’d been undressed. “What is up?” Jason said.

  “He proposed to Ronnie, and she said no.”

  Jason’s mouth dropped open just like mine had. “You are joking me.”

  I shook my head. “Wish I was.”

  “But they are like one of the happiest couples I know.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t explain the news, I just report it.”

  “Shit,” Jason said. He glanced back at his car, and at Louie. “I’ll get him home.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jason gave me a shadow of his usual grin. “Well, can’t send him home with you. Wouldn’t that complicate the hell out of things?”

  “What?” I asked.

  Micah kissed me on the side of the face. “The ardeur rising with Louie in the car. Speaking of which…”

  “You guys go,” Jason said, “we’ll be okay.”

  I kissed him on the cheek, quick and sisterly. “You’re a braver man than I am, Gunga Din.”

  He laughed. “That’s not the original quote, is it?”

  “Not exactly, but it’s still true.”

  He looked suddenly serious again. Very unJasonlike. “I don’t know if I’m brave or not, but I’ll get him tucked in.”

  “We have to go,” Micah said. He started leading me toward our Jeep.

  I kept looking back as Jason went around the car and got in. Louie sat motionless, head back. From a distance, you couldn’t tell he was crying.

  Micah pulled me in against his body, hugging me loosely to his side. I leaned in against the solidness of him and slid my arm around his waist, so that we finished the walk touching from chest to thigh. I was glad he was with me. Glad we were driving home together. Glad that home meant both of us.

  Nathaniel was leaning against the side of the Jeep watching us walk toward him. He was leaning with his hands behind him so that his weight trapped his hands behind him, pinned between his hips and the Jeep. It wasn’t just intercourse that Nathaniel hadn’t been getting with me. Nathaniel had other “needs” that I was, if possible, even less comfortable with. It made him feel peaceful to be tied up. Peaceful to be abused. Peaceful. I’d asked him why he enjoyed it once, and he’d told me that it made him feel peaceful. It made him feel safe.

  How could being tied up make you feel safe? How could letting someone hurt you, even a little, make you feel good? I didn’t get it. I just didn’t get it. Maybe if I’d understood it better, I’d have been less afraid to go that last mile with him. What if we had intercourse and it wasn’t enough? What if he just kept pushing, pushing me to do things that I found… frightening? He was supposed to be the submissive, and I was his dominant. Didn’t that mean that I was in charge? Didn’t that mean he did what I said? No. I’d had to learn enough to understand Nathaniel and some of the other wereleopards, because he wasn’t the only one with interesting hobbies. The submissive had a safe word, and once they said that word, all the play stopped. So in the end, the dominant had an illusion of power, but really the submissive got to say how far things went, and when they stopped. I’d thought I could control Nathaniel because he was so submissive, but it was tonight that I realized the truth. I wasn’t in control anymore. I didn’t know what was going to happen with Nathaniel, or me, or Micah. The thought terrified me, so I thought about it, really thought about it. What if I found Nathaniel a new place to live? What if I found him a new place to be? A new life?

  I rolled it over in my mind as we walked across the pavement. I thought about sending him home with someone else, letting him weep on someone else’s shoulder. But more than that, I thought about getting under the covers with only Micah on one side, and no one on the other side. Nathaniel had his side of the bed now. I hadn’t realized it until that second, hadn’t let myself realize it. The three of us enjoyed reading Treasure Island to each other. For Micah and me it was a revisiting of childhood favorites, for the most part, but for Nathaniel most of the books were new to him. He’d never had anyone read to him before bedtime. Never had anyone share their books with him. What kind of childhood is it without books, stories to share? I knew that he’d had an older brother, who died,
and a father who died, and a mother who died. That they’d died, I knew, but not how, or when, except that he’d been young when it happened. He didn’t like talking about it, and I didn’t like seeing the look in his eyes when he did, so I didn’t push. I didn’t have a right to push if I wasn’t his girlfriend. I didn’t have a right to push if I wasn’t his lover. I was only his Nimir-Ra, and he didn’t owe me his life story.

  I thought about not having Nathaniel in the bed, not for feeding, but not having him there to hear the rest of the story. To hear what happened when Jim realizes what a soft-hearted villain Long John Silver really is. The thought of him not being there at that moment when we come to the end of the adventure was painful, a wrenching kind of pain, as if my stomach and my heart both hurt at the same time.

  He opened the door and held it for me, because this close to the ardeur, it wasn’t always good that I was driving. He held the door and was as neutral as he could be, as I moved past him. I didn’t know what to do, so I let him be neutral, and I was neutral, too. But as I buckled my seat belt in place and he closed the door, I realized that I would miss him. Not miss him because my life ran smoother with him than without him, but I would simply miss him. Miss the vanilla scent of him on my pillow; the warmth of his body on his side of the bed; the spill of his hair like some tangled, living blanket. If I could have stopped my list there, I’d have sent Nathaniel to his room for the night; he did still have a room where all his stuff stayed, all his stuff but him. But I couldn’t stop the list there, not and be honest.

  He’d cried when Charlotte died, in Charlotte’s Web. I wouldn’t have missed seeing him cry over a dead spider for anything. It had been Nathaniel’s idea that we could have a movie marathon of old monster flicks. You have not lived until you’ve sat through The Wolf Man (1941), The Curse of the Werewolf (1961), and The Werewolf (1956) with a bunch of shapeshifters. They had heckled the screen and thrown popcorn, and howled, sometimes literally, at the movie version of what they knew all too well. The wereleopards had all complained, that at least werewolves had some movies, that once you’d named, Cat People, the leopards didn’t have any movies. Most of the werewolves had known about the 1980 version, but almost no one had known about the original in 1950. We had another movie night planned where we were going to watch both versions. I was sure we’d spend the night complaining, cheerfully, at how far off both films were, and get eerily silent when they hit close to home. Alright, they’d be eerily silent, and I’d watch them watching the screen.