Guilty Pleasures

29

I slipped on the damp grass. Hose are not made for ru

A voice answered, light as music. “Greetings, animator. You seem to be having a full night.”

Nikolaos was standing in the shadows of the trees. Willie McCoy was with her, a little to one side, not quite beside her, like a bodyguard or a servant. I was betting on servant.

“You seem agitated. What ever is the matter?” Her voice rose in a lilting sing-song. The dangerous little girl had returned.

“Zachary raised the zombie. You can't use that as an excuse to kill him.” I laughed then, and it sounded abrupt and harsh even to me. He was already dead. I didn't think she knew. She couldn't read minds, only force the truth from them. I bet Nikolaos had never thought to ask, “Are you alive, Zachary, or a walking corpse?” I laughed and couldn't seem to stop.

“Anita, you all right?” Willie's voice was like his voice had always been.

I nodded, trying to catch my breath. “I'm fine.”

“I do not see the humor in the situation, animator.” The child voice was slipping, like a mask sliding down. “You helped Zachary raise the zombie.” She made it sound like an accusation.

“Yes.”

I heard movement over the grass. Willie's footsteps, and nothing else. I glanced up and saw Nikolaos moving towards me, noiseless as a cat. She was smiling, a cute, harmless, model, beautiful child. No. Her face was a little long. The perfect child bride wasn't perfect anymore. The closer she came, the more flaws.

I could pick out. Was I seeing her the way she really looked? Was I?

“You are staring at me, animator.” She laughed, high and wild, wind chimes in a storm. “As if you'd seen a ghost.” She knelt, smoothing her slacks over her knees, as if they were a skirt. “Have you seen a ghost, animator? Have you seen something that frightened you? Or is it something else?” Her face was only an arm's length away.

I was holding my breath, fingers digging into the ground. Fear washed over me like a cool second skin. The face was so pleasant, smiling, encouraging. She really needed a dimple to go with it all. My voice was hoarse, and I had to cough to clear it. “I raised the zombie. I don't want it hurt.”

“But it is only a zombie, animator. They have no real minds.”

I just stared at that thin, pleasant face, afraid to look away from her, afraid to look at her. My chest was tight with the urge to run. “It was a human being. I don't want it tortured.”

“They won't hurt it much. My little vampires will be disappointed. The dead ca

“Ghouls can. They feed off the dead.”

“But what is a ghoul, animator? Is it truly dead?”

“Yes.”

“Am I dead?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” She had a small scar near her upper lip. She must have gotten it before she died.

“I'm sure,” I said.

She laughed then, a sound to bring a smile to your face and a song to your heart. My stomach jerked at the noise. I might never enjoy Shirley Temple movies again.

“I don't think you are sure in the least.” She stood, one smooth motion. A thousand years of practice makes perfect.

“I want the zombie put back, now, tonight,” I said.

“You are not in a position to want anything.” The voice was cold, very adult. Children didn't know how to strip skin with their voice.

“I raised it. I don't want it tortured.”

“Isn't that too bad?”

What else could I say? “Please.”

She stared down at me. “Why is it so important to you?”

I didn't think I could explain it to her. “It just is.”

“How important?” she asked.

“I don't know what you mean.”

“What would you be willing to endure for your zombie?”

Fear settled into a cold lump in the pit of my gut. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” she said.

I stood then, not that it would help. I was actually taller than she was. She was tiny, a delicate fairy of a child. Right. “What do you want?”

“Don't do it, Anita.” Willie was standing away from us, as if afraid to come too close. He was smarter dead than he had been alive.

“Quiet, Willie.” Her voice was conversational when she said it, no yelling, no threat. But Willie fell silent instantly, like a well trained dog.

Maybe she caught my look. Whatever, she said, “I had Willie punished for failing to hire you that first time.”

“Punished?”

“Surely, Phillip has told you about our methods?”

I nodded. “A cross-wrapped coffin.”

She smiled, brilliant, cheery. The shadows leeched it into a leer. “Willie was very afraid that I would leave him in there for months, or even years.”

“Vampires can't starve to death. I understand the principle.” I added silently in my head: You bitch. I can only be terrified so long before I get angry. Anger feels better.

“You smell of fresh blood. Let me taste you, and I will see your zombie safe.”

“Does taste mean bite?” I asked.

She laughed, sweet, heartrending. Bitch. “Yes, human, it means bite.” She was suddenly beside me. I jerked back without thinking. She laughed again. “It seems Phillip has beaten me to it.”

For a minute I couldn't think what she meant; then my hand went to the bite mark on my neck. I felt suddenly uneasy, like she'd caught me naked.

The laugh floated on the summer air. It was really begi

“No tasting,” I said.

“Then let me enter your mind again. That's a type of feeding.”

I shook my head, too rapid, too many times. I'd die before I'd let her in my mind again. If I had the choice.

A scream sounded in the not so far distance. Estelle was finding her voice. I winced like I'd been slapped.

“Let me taste your blood, animator. No teeth.” She flashed fang as she said the last. “You stand and make no move to stop me. I will taste the fresh wound on your neck. I won't feed on you.”

“It's not bleeding anymore. It's clotted.”

She smiled, oh so sweetly. “I'll lick it clean.”

I swallowed hard. I didn't know if I could do it. Another scream sounded, high and lost. God.

Willie said, “Anita …”

“Silence, or risk my anger.” Her voice growled low and dark.

Willie seemed to shrink in upon himself. His face was a white triangle under his black hair.

“It's all right, Willie. Don't get hurt on my account,” I said.

He stared at me across the distance, a few yards; it might as well have been miles. Only the lost look on his face helped. Poor Willie. Poor me.

“What good is it going to do you if you're not feeding off me?” I asked.

“No good at all.” She reached a small, pale hand towards me. “Of course, fear is a kind of substance.” Cool fingers slid around my wrist. I flinched but didn't pull back. I was going to let her do this, wasn't I?

“Call it shadow feeding, human. Blood and fear are always precious, no matter how one obtains them.” She stepped up to me. She exhaled against my skin, and I backed away. Only her hand on my wrist kept me close.

“Wait. I want the zombie freed now, first.”

She just stared at me, then nodded slowly. “Very well.” She stared past me, pale eyes seeing things that weren't there or that I couldn't see. I felt a tension through her hand, almost a jerk of electricity. “Theresa will chase them off and have the animator lay the zombie to rest.”

“You did all that, just then?”

“Theresa is mine to command; didn't you know that?”

“Yeah, I guessed that.” I had not known that any vampire could do telepathy. Of course, before last night I hadn't thought they could fly either. Oh, I was just learning all sorts of new things.

“How do I know you're not just telling me that?” I asked.

“You will just have to trust me.”

Now that was almost fu

She pulled my wrist closer to her body and me with it. Her hand was like fleshy steel. I couldn't pry her hand off, not with anything short of a blowtorch. And I was all out of blowtorches.

The top of her head fitted under my chin. She had to rise on tiptoe to breathe on my neck. It should have ruined the menace. It didn't. Soft lips touched my neck. I jerked. She laughed against my skin, face pressed against me. I shivered and couldn't stop.

“I promise to be gentle.” She laughed again, and I fought an urge to shove her, away. I would have given almost anything to hit her, just once, hard. But I didn't want to die tonight. Besides, I'd made a deal.

“Poor darling, you're shaking.” She laid a hand on my shoulder to steady herself. She brushed lips along the hollow of my neck. “Are you cold?”

“Cut the crap. Just do it!”

She stiffened against me. “Don't you want me to touch you?”

“No,” I said. Was she crazy? Rhetorical question.

Her voice was very still. “Where is the scar on my face?”

I answered without thinking. “Near your mouth.”

“And how,” she hissed, “did you know that?”

My heart leaped into my throat. Oops. I had let her know her mind tricks weren't working, and they should have been.

Her hand dug into my shoulder. I made a small sound, but I didn't cry out. “What have you been doing, animator?”

I didn't have the faintest idea. Somehow, I doubted she'd believe that.

“Leave her alone!” Phillip came half-ru

Nikolaos didn't even turn around. “Willie.” Just his name, but like all good servants he knew what was wanted.

He stepped in front of Phillip, one arm straight out from his body. He was going to stiff-arm him. Phillip sidestepped the arm brushing past.

Willie never had been much of a fighter. Strength wasn't enough if you had shit for balance.

Nikolaos touched my chin and turned my face back to hers. “Do not force me to hold your attention, animator. You wouldn't like the methods I would choose.”

I swallowed audibly. She was probably right. “You have my full attention, honest.” My voice came out as a hoarse whisper, fear squeezing it down. If I coughed to clear it, I'd cough in her face. Not a good idea.

I heard the rush of feet swishing through the grass. I fought the urge to look up and away from the vampire.