Guilty Pleasures

“That doesn’t answer my question. What do you want me to do? What do you want?”

Lips curled back from yellowed teeth. It looked like a snarl, but I think it was a smile. “Come down to us, human. Touch us, let us touch you. Let us teach you the joys of fur and teeth.” He rubbed claws through the fur of his thighs. It drew my attention to him, between his legs. I looked away, and heat rushed up my skin. I was blushing. Dammit!

My voice came out almost steady. “Is that supposed to be impressive?” I asked.

He froze for an instant, then snarled, “Get her down here!”

Great, Anita, antagonize him. Imply that his equipment is a little undersized.

His hissing laugh ran up my skin in cold waves. “We are going to have fun tonight. I can tell.”

The giant rats came up the steps, muscles working under fur, whiskers thick as wire, wriggling furiously. I pressed my back against the door and began to slide down the wood. “Please, please don’t.” My voice sounded high and frightened, and I hated it.

“We’ve broken you so soon; how very sad,” the ratman said.

The two giant rats were almost on me. I braced my back against the door, knees tucked up, heels planted, the rest of the foot slightly raised. A claw touched my leg, I flinched, but I waited. It had to be right. Please, God, don’t let them draw blood. Whiskers scraped along my face, the weight of fur on top of me.

I kicked out, both feet hitting solidly in the rat. It raised onto its hind legs and toppled backwards. It tittered, tail lashing. I threw myself forward and smashed it in the chest. The rat tumbled over the edge.

The second rat crouched, making a sound low in its throat. I watched its muscles bunch, and I went down to one knee and braced. If it leaped on me standing, I’d go over the edge. I was only inches from the drop.

It leaped. I dropped flat to the floor and rolled. I shoved feet and one hand into the warmth of its body and helped it along. The rat plummeted over me and out of sight. I heard the frightened shrieks as it fell. The sound was a thick “thumpth.” Satisfying. I doubted either of them were dead. But it was the best I could do.

I stood, putting my back to the door again. The ratman wasn’t smiling anymore. I smiled at him sweetly, my best angelic smile. He didn’t seem impressed.

He made a motion like parting air, smooth. The lesser rats flowed forward with his hand. A creeping brown tide of furry little bodies began to boil up the steps.

I might be able to get a few of them, but not all of them. If he wanted them to, they’d eat me alive, one tiny crimson bite at a time.

Rats flowed around my feet, scrambling and arguing. Tiny bodies bumped against my boots. One stretched itself thin, reaching up to grab the edge of my boot. I kicked it off. It fell squealing over the edge.

The giant rats had dragged one of their injured friends off to one side. The rat wasn’t moving. The other I had thrown off was limping.

A rat leaped upward, claws hooked in my blouse. It hung there, claws trapped in the cloth. I could feel its weight over my breast. I grabbed it around its middle. Teeth sank into my hand until they met, grinding skin, missing bone. I screamed, jerking the rat away from me. It dangled from my hand like an obscene earring. Blood ran down its fur. Another rat leaped on my blouse.

The ratman was smiling.

A rat was climbing for my face. I grabbed it by the tail and pulled it away. I yelled, “Are you afraid to come yourself? Are you afraid of me?” My voice was thin with panic, but I said it. “Your friends are injured doing something you’re afraid to do. Is that it? Is it?”

The giant rats were staring from me to the ratman. He glanced at them. “I am not afraid of a human.”

“Then come up, take me yourself, if you can.” The rat on my hand dropped away in a spout of blood. The skin between thumb and forefinger was ripped apart.

The lesser rats hesitated, staring wildly around. One was halfway up my jeans. It dropped to the floor.

“I am not afraid.”

“Prove it.” My voice sounded a little steadier, maybe about nine years old instead of five.

The giant rats were staring at him, intent, judging, waiting. He made that same cutting-air motion in reverse. The rats squeaked and stood on hind legs staring around, as if they couldn’t believe it, but they began to pour down the stairs the way they had come.

I leaned into the door, knees weak, cradling the bitten hand against my chest. The ratman began to creep up the stairs. He moved easily on the balls of his elongated feet, strong clawed toes digging into the stone.

Lycanthropes are stronger and faster than humans. No mind tricks, no sleight of hand, they are just better. I would not be able to surprise the wererat, as I had the first. I doubted he would grow angry enough to be stupid, but one could always hope. I was hurt, unarmed, and outmatched. If I couldn’t get him to make a mistake, I was in deep shit.

A long, pink tongue curved over his teeth. “Fresh blood,” he said. He drew in a loud breath of air. “You stink of fear, human. Blood and fear, smells like di

I slid my uninjured hand behind my back, as if reaching for something. “Come closer, ratman, and we’ll see how you like silver.”

The ratman hesitated, frozen, half-crouched on the top step. “You have no silver.”

“Want to bet your life on it?”

His clawed hands clutched each other. One of the large rats squeaked something. He snarled down at it. “I am not afraid!”

If they egged him on, my bluff wasn’t going to work. “You saw what I did to your friends. That was without a weapon.” My voice sounded low and sure of itself. Good for me.

He eyed me out of one large patent-leather eye. His fur glistened in the torchlight as if freshly washed. He gave a small jump and was on the landing, just out of reach.

“I’ve never seen a blond rat before,” I said. Anything to fill the silence, anything to keep him from taking that one last step. Surely Jean-Claude would come back for me soon. I laughed then, abrupt and half-choked.

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?”