Vampires (21 page)

and as he draped the towel the side of his hand touched her shoulder and there was that tingle once more and the chill flashed on her skin...

And the towel seemed to... . coil.., about her.

Like a knowing glove.

“Davette!” he whispered.

There was no alternative but to turn and face him and when she did she faced his glowing eyes and they held her and swelled down within her and the heat, the trembling frenzy, the.. . wicked ache. . . returned.

And soon it seemed they were back inside-Kitty with them, really with them-and they were laughing and hugging as they walked on either side of him, both women naked once more.

Into the kitchen, because they were starving. For steak. A big, thick super-rare steak, that was the craving. They sat Ross at the little counter that ran the length of the great house's great kitchen while the two of them, still naked, prepared the meal.

Still naked. Bright kitchen lights and cold floor and no reason for it at all except to be. . . nasty and wanton and...

And as she talked to the Team she didn't describe the way the two of them, she and Kitty, danced around in front of him making that meal. How could she tell them about it... how could she ever have behaved that way? Stretching up high to reach this, reaching way across him to get that. Bending over farther than she needed to for something else... She crimsoned at just the memory of it, of how she and Kitty, carnal tension sputtering in the air, had competed to see who could act like the cheaper tramp.

No. She couldn't tell about that.

But she could tell them about the food.

“Ross never eats,” Kitty said chidingly when he said he didn't want a steak.

Ross's face had gone hard and he had used that Voice when he replied that he had his own diet and the smile he gave as he spoke softened it not at all. Davette had almost jumped at the tone, had felt a brief shiver of fear.

But learned nothing. She merely resolved not to question him about so sensitive a topic again.

The erotic atmosphere had been restored to its original tightness by the time the meal was prepared. Davette sat down but knew she was far too excited to eat.

“But you must be hungry,” whispered Ross, gazing deep through her eyes. “You haven't eaten in twenty-four hours. And look at that thick juicy steak. Just what you need.”

And even as he spoke she felt her hunger rush back so strongly that nothing in the world seemed more tempting than the smell of that food. She fell upon the steak like a starving beast.

“All better?” he asked pleasantly when she had finished.

Davette looked up, surprised. She had forgotten he was there, forgotten anyone was there, forgotten everything but eating. She looked down and saw her plate was totally clean.

How weird, she had thought at the time. Like I was in some sort of a spell or something.

Of course she Was in a spell. His spell. A spell he could twist and curl as it suited him. With a knowing smile, he gazed their passions back into them.

Seconds later the three of them ascended the steps to her room and there, in the utter darkness he insisted upon, Davette sought within her some sense of shame as she lay listening to the couple embrace beside her on her cool sheets. But she could find no sense of shame or jealousy or anything other than pounding, aching need for her turn to come soon.

Soon, it did, and with it a bizarre hope that her cries would be as loud and thrilling as Kitty's.

When Davette paused a moment and Felix leaned forward to hand her the glass of water, she felt the heavy silence of the motel room. She realized she bad looked at nothing besides the floor and Felix's face for the past, two hours and she made herself look up and face their troubled expressions. They gazed uneasily back and she knew it was out of concern for her-she could read that. But she knew it was from embarrassment also. For the sexual charge was as heavy as the silence.

It's not your fault! she wanted to shout.

But she knew they wouldn't believe her. Not yet. They wouldn't understand that it was not them, it was a piece of them. A piece the magic had tainted her with and a piece she now passed on.

They wouldn't understand.

Still, she should try. And she did. She tried to tell them about the feeling of the bite, about the warping volcanic pleasure rolling through you, vibrating and caressing and powering you deep into your memory and far into your fantasies.

“Didn't it hurt?”

She stopped, looked around. It was Carl Joplin. His face softened and he smiled at her.

“I'm sorry, sugar. But we are talking about someone biting you.”

“And sucking your blood out,” added Cat.

Carl nodded, but his tone remained gentle. “And sucking your blood. It must-”

“But you don't know that!” insisted Davette. "You aren't aware. You don't know you're losing blood. There's so much else going on, you.

“You mean he's also.. .” whispered Annabelle before catching herself and blushing.

Davette's voice was harsh and bitter. “No. No sex. Vampires can't have sex. Oh, the women can.... pretend. And they do. But it isn't real. It isn't life. They're dead.”

It was quiet for a while while they digested this.

And Felix thought, looking at her: There's still something left to you, isn't there, beauty?

But he didn't smile. She wouldn't know it was admiration.

Davette had another sip of water and tried to explain some more:

“There are really three stages to it. The first is. . . well, it just never occurs to you. Vampires? That's for movies, you know?”

They nodded. Yes, they knew.

She had another sip. "It's just sort of. . . kinky, I guess. And everyone has a part of them that likes and wants that. Vampires swell that desire inside of you and ~... Well, you're enjoying it and it seems harmless.

"That's the first stage.

“In the second part you're so much of an addict for it, you don't want to examine what's going on. It holds you and controls you. You don't really ever think about anything else-you don't want to look at it. Because you... You don't want to think about it.”

“And the third stage?” asked Felix. “You know then?”

Davette nodded wearily. "You know. The pretense is past. He lets you know. He lets you see it. And it's awful to see, the things they do to the living, the terrible smiles they get when they twist us. And..

She drifted off, looking at something behind her eyes.

“'And'.. .” Felix gently nudged.

She looked at him and her smile was grim and tight. "Maybe the worst part is not the knowing, the. . . admitting. The worst part is that you realize you knew, you always knew, deep down inside you, from the first. It's not the wickedness, the sex part. That's in everyone and that can be fine. It's deeper.

"It's basic.

"It's Evil.

"And you always feel it, some part of you does, when it grazes you.

“Always.”

She was quiet for several seconds. Then she sighed, took a sip.

“The good news is that the last stage is rare.”

Jack Crow spoke for the first time. “Why is it rare?”

“Because most people are dead by then,” replied Davette, looking at him.

And Jack nodded back, as if he had been expecting the answer.

“So,” began Felix once more, “were you an addict now?”

She looked at him. "Pretty much. But within the next week of that.. . The next ten days...

A week, she would think later. A week, ten days...

That's all it took for her former life to disappear.

Within a week she had learned what it was like to be teased. Within ten days she understood the end of the leash. Her life had shrunk to a single nighttime dot. She never went anywhere alone. She never saw the sunshine. She never talked with anyone besides Ross, Kitty, Aunt Victoria, and the servants. She did write one letter. To her college. Less than a month before graduation and she wrote them to say she wouldn't be coming back.

No life.

He teased her by being especially charming one night, giving her more than her share of attention. He was witty, he was tender, he burned her with that look. Then, abruptly, he left.

She lay awake until dawn. Steaming.

One night he didn't show at all. The two women sat around talking, wearing their most knock-out attire-for Ross preferred them to be either overdressed or naked-all night long waiting for him to show up.

But he never did.

It wasn't as if he had actually promised to be there that night. But he had been there every other night. Even if just to tease them. By the end of the night the two friends no longer spoke. They merely sat in front of the great fireplace in silence. Each of them knew then, Davette thought later. Each of them knew it was madness and darkness to continue. And if he hadn't shown up, if only for just a few nights, they would have been free. Or at least aware enough to instinctively flee.

He was back the next night, apologetic and charming and, later, as awesomely rapturous as ever.

They were his.

His property.

His toys.

And what good are toys if not to play with?

“You can make any man desire you,” Ross said, smiling, from the center booth at Del Frisco's.

And they were all attention because it had been that kind of a night. For the very first time, he had taken them out!

Long black limousine. Long-stemmed roses. A gorgeous, tuxedo-clad Ross escorting them through the front door of the famous restaurant. Del, himself, there to greet them and lead them into that classic dining room with its carved deep mahogany and deeper rugs and immaculate diamond-bright crystal and the people! The way they stared at the three. Stared and (the ladies just knew it) envied. Davette was wearing her best and she had never felt so beautiful or attractive or, well, glamorous.., in her whole life. Kitty was pretty show-stopping herself, though a trifle pale, and the service they received managed to be even better than Del Frisco's usual standard. The waiters positively swarmed around them.

“You can make any man desire you,” Ross repeated. “Any man. Not just desire you. Crave you!” As he said the last he had leaned forward across the candlelight and beamed energy at them and they had shivered.

Because it was so exciting! To be out again and in the glitter. To feel so desirable-and Ross had seen to it they felt that way before they ever left Davette's house. They felt like movie stars, like.., sirens!

“Let me tell you how,” said Ross next. “First, you have to want him. Or, at least, imagine you do.”

And so it began.

They were in his world now. And everything he wanted to be thrilling and acceptable was so. Every suggestion seemed fun or at least. . . harmless. A harmless secret between the three that somehow didn't really. . . count. (“ibis will not go on your permanent record.”) It was easy to believe it didn't count. It was all so unreal anyway.

“Imagine,” Ross purred, “that those two men in that booth over my left shoulder were so dynamic in bed that you could not resist them.”

And so the women glanced over his shoulder at the two men in the booth. They were much older, in their fifties. Davette thought immediately of her friends' fathers, and though the older men's appearance was pleasant enough, the whole idea, the concept of it all, seemed incestuous. One of them was tall, even seated, with white hair at his temples and a lovely dark suit that seemed to glow in the candlelight. He was thin and erect and rather aloof. The second man was shorter, not much taller than she, Davette guessed. He was beginning to lose hair on top and gain weight in his middle but he had a warm ready smile and a friendly look. He wore a sportcoat instead of a suit but it was of the same high quality as his companion's attire.

Not for me, she thought.

But then Ross began to purr once more, purr with that Voice, and every single thought would seem to resonate their marrow.

"No, they're not as young as you would like. They are not what you would choose. Is that not what makes it so thrilling? Is it not decadent? These old men, old enough to be your fathers, can take you in their hands and make you sing. You cannot resist it. After a while you will not want to. And you know that. You know that. You will tremble and shake in their gaze. You will find yourselves doing things you cannot believe you are doing. But you will still do them. You will obey their every command. And, worse, you will enjoy it. You will see yourselves doing these wicked things-as if from afar-and you will be appalled and embarrassed...but also the carnal joys will jolt through you because you really are doing them! You! Ladies! Proper young ladies roiling wanton in their arms. . . My goodness, you think, if those people I grew up with should see me doing this! They wouldn't believe their eyes! The shame! The shame!

“And yet. . . Yes! Let them see me! I want them to see me, wallowing whore and free at last!”

Davette stopped speaking and her head went down and the motel room became quiet. Then, head still down, she tried to explain.

She tried to explain that vampires tell the truth. And she knew she had said all this before and all but she. . . just...wanted.. . everyone.. . to... understand. It wasn't the Truth. It was only a piece of it-a small piece, really, but... But people are like a spectrum, you know? They have all the colors and some have more of one shade than others but everybody has some of any shade and Ross, the vampire, could make that shade seem brighter and stronger than any of the others and... And, yes, it was there! He did have something to work with. But that didn't mean I'm really... Or anybody is really...

And she drifted off to silent tears until she felt a finger under her chin, gently raising her head up. She lifted her head and Felix was there, smiling at her.

“We know,” he said softly. Tenderly. “We know. We understand.”

And she knew he meant it. His eyes were so pleasant and sweet. She followed the gesture of his head, next, to the faces of the others in the room, to the rest of the Team, and the glow was still there. Smiling, understanding faces. Misty faces, small tears hidden in the corners of understanding eyes.