Guilty Pleasures

The ratman froze, staring at me. “Why are you laughing?” His voice held just a hint of unease. Good.

“I was hoping that the vampires would come for me soon and save me. You've got to admit that's fu

He didn't seem to think it was fu

I moved my hand behind my back, still pretending that there was a knife in it. One of the giant rats squealed, and even to me it sounded derisive. He would never live it down if I bluffed him. I might not live it down if I didn't.

Most people, when confronted with a wererat, freeze or panic. I'd had time to get used to the idea. I wasn't going to fade away if he touched me. There was one possible solution where I could save myself. If I was wrong, he was going to kill me. My stomach turned a sharp flip-flop, and I had to swallow hard. Better dead than furry. If he attacked me, I'd just as soon he killed me. Rats were not my top choice for being a lycanthrope. If your luck was bad, the smallest scratch could infect you.

If I was quick and lucky, I could go to a hospital and be treated. Sort of like rabies. Of course sometimes the inoculations worked, and sometimes they gave you lycanthropy.

He wrapped his long, naked tail through his clawed hands. “You ever been had by a were?”

I wasn't sure if he was talking sex or as a meal. Neither sounded pleasant. He was going to work up to it, get himself brave, then he'd come for me, when he was ready. I wanted him to come when I was ready.

I chose sex and said, “You haven't got what it takes, ratman.”

He stiffened, hand sliding down his body, claws combing fur. “We'll see who has what, human.”

“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 tu

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 tu

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 tu

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, ru

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 gri

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?”

“I would rather die than be a vampire's flunky.”

Theresa never blinked, only nodded, very slowly. “You may get your wish.”

The hair at the back of my neck crawled. I could meet her gaze, but evil has a certain feel to it. A neck-ruffling, throattightening feeling that tightens your gut. I have felt it around humans as well. You don't have to be undead to be evil. But it helps.

I walked in front of her. Theresa's boots clicked sharp echoes from the hallway. Maybe it was only my fear talking, but I felt her staring at me, like an ice cube sliding down my spine.