Incubus Dreams

His wife was smarter than he was, she pulled on his arm, and said, "Honey, I don't think they want to play."

"Listen to your wife, she's the smart one." I thought that was a nice parting shot, and we turned to go, and again, Nathaniel stopped moving. I turned back and found that the man had grabbed Nathaniel's braid. That was it, no more nice.

I brought my badge out and shoved it at his face. He had to back up to look at the badge, as if he should have been wearing glasses but wasn't. But it made him let go of Nathaniel's hair.

He laughed. "I've got one at home. If you want to play cops and robbers, we're into that."

I had the badge in my left hand, so I had to use just my fingertips of the same hand to spread my jacket wide enough that I showed him the gun in its shoulder holster. "You got one of these?" I asked.

The woman was pulling at his arm. "Don't, honey, I think she's for real."

He glared down at me. "Who are you?"

"Federal Marshal Anita Blake, asshole, back it up and leave us alone."

The look on his face said, clearly, he didn't believe me. Maybe he was one of those men who just didn't believe women in authority, or maybe he just wanted to see Nathaniel's hair spread all over his bed so badly, that he didn't want to believe it. I'd been willing to buy that it was his wife that liked Nathaniel, right up to the point where he'd been the one that grabbed his arm, touched his hair. His wife might like Nathaniel, who wouldn't? But it wasn't her who had a serious hard-on about it.

I let my jacket fall back into place and used my body to sort of push Nathaniel between Micah and me. No way was I leaving him at the end of the line by Mr. Touchie. I put the badge up and started moving us down the narrow hallway, but I moved sort of backward, so I could keep an eye on the couple. Alright, on one half of the couple.

The wife was pulling at his arm trying to get him to move away. He jerked away from her and just kept looking at me. It was not a friendly look. In fact, there was enough heat in his eyes to cross that line to hate. I hadn't done anything to make him hate me, except tell him no. There are men that see no as the ultimate insult, but usually it takes more than a rejection during a bar pickup attempt to get this level of reaction. I kept my attention on him until we were swallowed by one of the curtains that hid the deeper rooms.

"That was just creepy," I said.

"I know him," Nathaniel said in a small voice.

I looked at him. "How?"

He licked his lips, and his eyes looked haunted. "When I was on the streets. He used to pick up the older boys, the ones that were almost too old for the trade."

"Too old?" I asked.

"Most of the men that came down there weren't looking for men, Anita. They wanted boys. Once you looked too grown-up you had to move where you worked. A different clientele." He said the last with a bitter little twist of his mouth. "He's older now, and he didn't recognize me, but I remember him. I remember one of the older boys warned me about him."

"Warned you?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Yeah."

"Did he hurt them?"

"Not yet, but sometimes everyone gets a feeling about a customer. He can ask for really standard stuff, but after awhile everyone just gets creeped. It's like you can smell the sickness on them, like you just know that it's only a matter of time before they hurt someone."

I touched his face, and he looked at me, and his eyes held that sadness that he'd come to me with. That look that said he'd seen it all, done it all, and it had destroyed something inside him. I put my hands on either side of his face and kissed him gently. It helped chase some of that lostness away, but not all of it. Some of it clung around the edges.

Micah made a sound. "Anita, she's your friend, but..."

I turned and found that Dallas the dancer was on the floor with Ro

I'd had enough. Enough of strangers pawing my boyfriends. Enough of Ro

"Veronica Marie Simms," I said.

She blinked up at the voice and the sound of all three of her names. "Who are you, my mother?"

I grabbed the belt of her jeans and lifted her bodily off of the man. It startled her, and me, because I didn't have to fight to lift her. She was bigger than I was, taller, just bigger, and I lifted her like she weighed nothing. I got her stumbling to her feet.

Dallas said, "Hey, we weren't finished."

I showed him my badge. "Yeah, you were." I kept the badge in my left hand and threw Ro

She didn't struggle, but she argued, "Anita, put me down!"

The creepy couple was not waiting for us in the little area in front of the rooms. I was glad. I had my badge out, but I'd have to throw Ro

"Anita, I am not a fucking child. Put me down!"

The bouncer came our way, and I flashed my badge at him. He held his hands up, as if to say, no trouble here. We kept walking for the door. The music was still blaring loud enough that it hurt my skull, but the people noise died down as they watched us pass. I don't know if it was the badge, the fact that a girl was carrying a girl, the fact that Ro

I had to use my badge hand to help steady Ro

"Put me the fuck down." This time she struggled, not well, not like she could have, but I'd lost patience. She wanted down, I put her down. I dumped her on the gravel on her ass.

I think she might have yelled at me, but a fu

"Shit," I said, softly and with feeling. I started walking toward her, and the men came at my back. I motioned them to stay by the last line of cars, as I waded out into the grass to Ro

Ro

I was trying to think of something else, anything else, while I stood there. I'm not good around people who are throwing up. Something about the sound of it and the smell of it leaves me fighting not to throw up, too. I looked out across the field, trying to find something else to think about. Nothing was interesting enough, until I looked almost straight out from where I was standing. At first I thought it was a deadfall, a tree, but my eyes made more sense out of it, and I realized it was a person. A pale line of arm, one hand pointing skyward, as if it was propped on something I couldn't see. It didn't have to be a dead body. Someone could have come out here and passed out.