Danse Macabre

The twins were easy to spot, because they were identical. I knew their names: Thomas and Cristos. They had their mother's white-blond color, but the short careless curls of their father. They were both taller than their fa­ther, somewhere around five-ten like Mom. But their bodies were slender, not enough muscle development. I searched their curious faces and found them young. Very young. They had to be legal, or Jean-Claude wouldn't have agreed, but they didn't look legal. Maybe merpeople aged slower than humans.

The other son I wasn't certain of, because there were two dark-haired men standing behind the love seat. One of them met my eyes bold as brass. The other man wouldn't meet my gaze; he actually blushed, embarrassed. I was betting that was the son. Maybe he thought it was all as weird as I did.

"They are lovely, my sons, are they not?" Thea asked, and that brought my attention back to her.

I wasn't sure what to say to that, but finally said, "Well, yeah, I guess, I mean, I wasn't looking at them for that." I felt the blush crawl up my face and cursed myself for it.

She smiled. "Let us decide which of us is of higher rank, so I may intro­duce you to them formally."

I thought about it, looked at Micah and Nathaniel. They both shook their (leads; they didn't know either.

"I have a thought," Thea said, and the tone in her voice made it clear mat she wasn't sure I'd like it. Her voice was melodious, almost like singing.

"I'm willing to hear it," I said.

"We are animal to call and human servant, but I am married to a Master of the City, and you are not. Would that be a way to decide who is higher tank?"

"Thea," Samuel said.

"No," I said, "it is a way to decide this. Marriage beats just dating, I'm okay with that."

Samuel frowned at me. "We were warned that you had a temper, Ms. Blake."

I shrugged. "I do, but Thea's reasoning is as good a way as any to decide which of us offers up a body part."

"You don't find it insulting to acknowledge her as greater than yourself?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No."

He looked at me, looked at me as if he were trying to see all the way through to my spine. It wasn't vampire tricks, it was just him trying to de­cide what I was, or wasn't. Once I would have squirmed under such a look, but not now. Now I just stood there and gave him calm eyes back.

Thea made some small movement that drew my attention back to her. She was waiting, outwardly patient, but there was a demand in her. Time to put up, or shut up.

I offered her my wrist.

She took my hand in hers, and again her hand was cool in mine. She wrapped her hand around mine, and used it to draw me in toward her body. She wasn't going to take the wrist, she was going for the neck.

I didn't fight, but I did pull back a little.

She hesitated, giving me those strange black eyes of hers. "If I outrank you, Anita, then it is my choice where to touch."

I shook my head. "No, that you're trying for the neck instead of the wrist means only one of three things: you don't trust me, you're showing how big and bad you are, or you're thinking sex. Which is it, Thea?"

"The second," she said. She kept trying to pull me in against her body, and I started to let her. The strength in her one hand let me know that if I really wanted to struggle I'd have a fight on my hands. She was strong, like shapeshifter strong.

She kept her grip on my wrist as she used her other hand to pull me in against her body, until the two of us were pressed together, not tight, but so our bodies brushed from chest to thighs.

I had to talk staring at her shoulder. She was just too tall for me. "Why do you want me to know that you're big and bad?"

"My wife is very competitive with other women, Anita," Samuel said. "Surely Jean-Claude mentioned that, as he mentioned your temper to us."

"He said something about it, but..." She let go of my wrist so she could slide that arm around my back, pressing me closer to her. Her other hand was sliding up my back toward my hair. But I hadn't understood what com­petitive meant, I thought. It took almost everything I had not to tense up as she entwined her body around me, close now, so close, lover close, sex close.

Her breasts were small and tight, and she wasn't wearing a bra. Eeek. I felt stupid with my arms limp at my sides, and I didn't really want to en­courage her, but... I ended up sort of hugging her just to keep my balance on the damned high heels.

She leaned her mouth close to my face and whispered, "I do want you to understand that I am superior to you, Anita, but that is only half my reason."

My pulse sped up a little at that. I started to turn to look at her face, but she grabbed a handful of curls and kept my face turned away. I was left star­ing at the man who had blushed. He looked at me, full face, and he suddenly looked like a younger version of Samuel. How had I not seen it before? He mouthed, / am sorry.

I had trouble speaking around my pulse now, because I had that bad feel­ing that something was about to happen. Something I wasn't going to enjoy. "What's the other half of your reason?" I asked, voice breathy, holding that edge of nervousness that held a touch of fear.

"I want to know what you are, Anita," she whispered, and her breath was warmer than it had been. Her hands were warm now, as if she had caught a

sudden fever. It reminded me of the way some of the shapeshifters felt close to the full moon.

"What's happening?" I asked, but my voice was only a whisper.

Her fingers entwined through my hair until she held my face immobile with her strong hands, and I could feel the heat of her fingers through my hair. She drew her face back from my neck, and stared down at me. She held my face tilted up to her as if for a kiss. "Are you truly what they say you are?"

I struggled to swallow so I could whisper, "What do they say I am?"

"Succubus," she whispered as she lowered her face toward mine. I knew in that instant that she was going to kiss me. "I am seeking another of my kind, Anita. Are you what I seek?" And with the last word she closed her mouth over mine.

6

Her mouth was warm, so warm against mine. Warm like hot chocolate. Something you wanted to open your mouth and sip from. It wasn't my idea, opening my mouth, it was hers. Somehow, it was her thought in my head. I didn't like that, not one little bit. The not liking helped me keep my mouth closed tight. She drew back enough to whisper, "Do not fight me."

I heard voices around us arguing. Help was coming, I just had to hold on. I just had to hold my shields in place and not let her do what she was trying to do. Just hold on, tliat was all. I'd held on when help was miles away; now it was just inches. I could do this.

She'd tried gentle persuasion, mind games, they hadn't worked. She tried force. She kissed me so hard, tliat either I opened my moutli to her, or she was going to cut my lip on my own teeth. If she'd been a man I would have just let her kiss me—was I really this homophobic? If she hadn't whispered through my mind tliat she wanted me to open my mouth, I might have done it, but she wanted it too badly. Part of me was just that stubborn, but part of me was afraid of why she wanted it so badly. I knew she was a siren, a sort of uber-mermaid. I knew that some of her magic dealt with seduction and sex. I knew that she could control the odier mermaids. I knew all sorts of tilings from talks witfi Jean-Claude; what I didn't know was why she wanted me to open my mouth.

Her kiss bruised my mouth and I tasted blood, sweet, metallic candy on my tongue. The moment I tasted the blood, it hurt. She'd cut tlie inside of my lip on my own teeth.