Incubus Dreams

9



The first person I saw when I hit the parking lot wasn't any of the men, it was Ronnie. Veronica Simms, private detective, one time my best friend, was standing off to one side from the door. She was hugging herself so hard, it looked painful. She's 5'8", a lot of leg, and she'd added high heels and a short red dress to show off the legs. She'd once told me if she had my chest she'd never wear another high neck shirt in her life. She'd been kidding, but when she dressed up, she showed off all that nice long stretch of leg. Her blond hair was cut at shoulder length, but she'd curled the edges under tonight so the hair bobbed above the spaghetti straps on her nearly bare shoulders. It was bobbing a lot, because she was talking low and angry to someone I couldn't see clearly.



I took another step into the parking lot, and the shadows cleared, and I saw Louis Fane. Louie taught biology at Washington University. He had his doctorate and was a wererat. The university knew about the doctorate but not about what he did on the full moons. He was an inch or two shorter than Ronnie, built compact, but strong. His shoulders filled out the suit he was wearing nicely. He'd cut his dark hair short and neat since last I'd seen him. His dark eyes were almost black, and his clean-cut face was as angry as I'd ever seen it.



I couldn't hear what they were saying, only the tone, and the tone was pissed. I realized I'd been staring, and it was none of my business. Even if Ronnie and I had still been working out together three times a week, which we weren't, it still wouldn't have been any of my business. Ronnie had had problems with me dating a vampire, Jean-Claude in particular, but her main objection seemed to be the vampire part. At a time when I'd needed girl advice and a little sympathy, she'd offered only her own outrage, and anger.



We'd started seeing each other less and less over the last few months, until it had gotten to the point where we hadn't talked in a couple of months. I'd known she and Louie were still dating, because he and I had mutual friends. I wondered what the fight was about, but it wasn't my fight. My fight was waiting out there in the parking lot, leaning against the side of my Jeep. All three of them were leaning against the Jeep. It was like a lineup, or an ambush.



I hesitated in the middle of the asphalt, debating on whether to go back and offer to referee Ronnie and Louie's fight. It wasn't kindness that made me want to go back; it was cowardice. I'd have much rather gotten dragged into someone else's fight than face what was waiting for me. Other people's emotional pain, no matter how painful, is so much less painful than your own.



But Ronnie wouldn't thank me for interfering, and it really wasn't my business. Maybe I'd call her tomorrow and see if she'd talk, see if there was still enough friendship left to save. I missed her.



I stood there in the darkened parking lot, caught between the fight behind me and the fight waiting for me. Strangely, I didn't want to fight with anyone. I was suddenly tired, so terribly tired, and it had nothing to do with the late hour, or a long day.



I walked to the waiting men, and no one smiled at me, but then I didn't smile at them either. I guess it wasn't a smiling kind of conversation.



"Nathaniel says you didn't want to dance with him," Micah said.



"Not true," I said. "I danced, twice. What I didn't want to do was play kissy-face in front of the cops."



Micah looked at Nathaniel. Nathaniel looked at the ground. "You kissed me earlier in front of Detective Arnet. Why was this different?"



"I kissed you to give Jessica the clue to stop hitting on you, because you wanted me to save you from her."



He raised his eyes, and they were like two pretty wounds, so pain-filled. "So, you only kissed me to save me, not because you wanted to?"



Oh, hell. Out loud I tried again, though the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that I was going to lose this argument. Lately, around Nathaniel, I always felt like I was doing something wrong, or at least not right. "That isn't what I meant," I said.



"It's what you said." This from Micah.



"Don't you start," I said, and I heard the anger in my voice before I could stop it. The anger had been there already, I just hadn't been aware of it. I was angry a lot, especially when I wasn't comfortable. I liked anger better than embarrassment. Marianne, who was helping me learn to control the ever growing list of psychic powers, said that I used anger to shield myself from any unwanted emotion. She was right, I accepted that she was right, but she and I hadn't come up with an alternative solution, yet. What's a girl to do if she can't get angry, and she can't run away from the problem? Hell if I know. Marianne had encouraged me to be honest, emotionally honest with myself and those closest to me. Emotional honesty. It sounds so harmless, so wholesome; it's neither.



"I don't want to fight," I said. There, that was honest.



"None of us do," Micah said.



Just hearing him be so calm helped the anger ease away. "Nathaniel pushed it on the dance floor, and the ardeur rose early."



"I felt it," Micah said.



"Me, too," Jason said.



"But you don't feel it now, do you?" Nathaniel said. His eyes were almost accusing, and his voice held it's own thin edge of anger. I wasn't sure if I'd ever heard him that close to being angry.



"Anita is getting better control over the ardeur," Micah said.



Nathaniel shook his head, hugging himself tight. It reminded me of the way that Ronnie had been holding herself. "If it had been you, she would have just come out into the parking lot and fed."



"Not willingly," I said.



"Yes, you would," he said, and his eyes held the anger his voice had held. I'd never seen those lavender eyes angry before. Not like this. It was strangely unnerving.



"I would not have sex in the parking lot of Larry and Tammy's wedding reception, if I had a choice."



That angry gaze searched my face as if trying to find something. "Why not feed here?"



"Because it's tacky. And because if Zerbrowski ever got wind of it, I would never, ever, live it down."



Jason patted his arm. "See, it isn't you she turned down, it's that she doesn't want to fool around at Larry's wedding. Just not her style."



Nathaniel glanced at Jason, then back at me. Some strange tension that I didn't quite understand seemed to flow away from him. The anger began to fade from his eyes. "I guess you're right."



"Well, if we don't want to be fooling around in the parking lot, then we need to get going," Micah said. "The ardeur doesn't like being denied. When it does come back tonight, it won't be gentle."



I sighed. He was right. That bit of metaphysical bravado on the dance floor would have all sorts of consequences later tonight. When the ardeur rose again, I would be forced to feed. There would be no stuffing it back into its box. It was almost as if, being able to stop the ardeur in its tracks, to completely turn it off once it had filled me, pissed the ardeur off. I knew it was a psychic gift and that psychic gifts don't have feelings and don't carry grudges, but sometimes, it felt like this one did.



"I'm sorry, Anita, I wasn't thinking." Nathaniel looked so discouraged that I had to hug him, a quick hug, more sisterly than anything else, and he responded to my body language and didn't try and hold me close. He let me hug him, and step away. Nathaniel was usually almost painfully attuned to my body language. It was one of the things that had allowed him to share my bed for months without violating those last few taboos.



"Let's go home," I said.



"That's my cue to part company," Jason said.



"You're welcome to bunk over if you want," I said.



He shook his head. "No, since I'm not needed to referee the fight, or for sage advice, I'll go home, too. Besides, I couldn't stand listening to the three of you get all hot and heavy and not be invited to play." He laughed and added, "Don't get mad, but having once been included, it's harder to be excluded."



I fought the blush that burned up my face, which always seemed to make the blush darker and harder.



Jason and I had had sex once. Before I realized it was possible to love someone to death with the ardeur, Nathaniel had collapsed at work and been off the feeding schedule for a few days. Micah hadn't been in the house, and the ardeur had risen early. Hours early. It had been interference from Belle Morte, the originator of Jean-Claude's bloodline, and the first, to my knowledge, possessor of the ardeur. It only ran through her line of vamps, nowhere else. The fact that I carried it had raised very interesting metaphysical questions. Belle had wanted to understand what I was, and she had also thought it would raise some hell. Belle was a good business-y vampire, but when she could take care of business and make trouble, all the better. So it hadn't been my fault, but my choices had been limited to taking Nathaniel and possibly killing him, or letting Jason take one for the team. He'd been happy to do it. Very happy. And strangely our friendship had survived it, but every once in a while I couldn't pretend it hadn't happened, and that made me uncomfortable.



"I love the fact that I can make you blush, now," he said.



"I don't."



He laughed, but there was something in his eyes that was more serious than laughter. "I need to tell you something, in private, before you go running off, though."



I didn't like how suddenly serious he was. I'd learned in the last few months that Jason used his teasing and laughter as a shield to hide a rather insightful intelligence that was sometimes so perceptive it was painful. I didn't like his request for privacy either. What couldn't he say in front of Micah and Nathaniel? And why?



Out loud I said, "Okay." I started off to the far side of the parking lot away from the Jeep, and farther away from Ronnie and Louie, who even a glance showed were still having a quiet screaming match.



When the shade of the trees that edged the church parking lot lay cool above us, I stopped and turned to Jason. "What's up?"



"The thing on the dance floor was sort of my fault."



"In what way, your fault?"



He actually looked embarrassed, which you didn't see much from Jason. "He wanted to know how I got to have sex with you, real sex, the very first time I helped feed the ardeur."



"Technically, it was the second," I said.



He frowned at me. "Yeah, but that was when the ardeur was brand new and we didn't have intercourse, and there were three other men in the bed."



I turned away so the dark would help hide the blush, though truthfully he could probably smell it hot on my skin. "Sorry I brought it up, you were saying?"



"He's been in your bed for what, four months?"



"Something like that," I said.



"And he's not had intercourse yet, hell, he's not had orgasm, not real orgasm with like release and everything."



I couldn't blush harder or my head would explode. "I'm listening."



"Anita, you can't keep pretending that Nathaniel isn't real."



"That's not fair."



"Maybe not, but I had no idea that you weren't at least doing him orally or by hand, or watching him do himself. Something, anything."



I just shook my head and looked at the ground. I couldn't think of anything good to say. If I hadn't just had my metaphysical peek inside Nathaniel's head, I would probably have gotten angry, or rude. But I'd seen too far into Nathaniel's pain, and I couldn't pretend anymore. Couldn't ignore it.



"I thought that by not doing the final stuff that it would make it easier for him when the ardeur gets under control and I don't need a pomme de sang anymore."



"Is that still your idea, to just dump him when you have enough control that you don't need to feed?"



"What am I supposed to do with him? Keep him like a pet, or a really big child?"



"He's not a child, and he's not a pet," Jason said, and the first hint of anger was in his voice.



"I know that, and that's the problem, Jason. If the ardeur hadn't come up I'd have been Nathaniel's Nimir-Ra, and his friend, and that would have been it. Now, suddenly he's in this category that I don't even have a name for."



"He's your pomme de sang like I'm Jean-Claude's."



"You and Jean-Claude aren't fucking, and nobody gets upset about that."



"No, because he lets me date. I have lovers if I want them."



"I've been encouraging Nathaniel to date. I want him to have girlfriends."



"And your not-so-subtly encouraging him to look at other women made him turn to me for advice."



"What do you mean?" I asked.



"He doesn't want to date other people. He wants to be with you, and Micah, and the vampires. He doesn't want another woman in his life."



"I am not the woman in his life."



"Yes, you are, you just don't want to be."



I leaned against one of the narrow tree trunks. "Oh, Jason, what am I going to do?"



"Finish what you started with Nathaniel, be his lover."



I shook my head. "I don't want that."



"The hell you don't. I watch the way you react around him."



"Lust isn't enough, Jason. I don't love him."



"I'd argue that, too."



"I don't love him the way I need to."



"Need to for what, Anita? Need to for your conscience? Your sense of morality? Just give him some of what he needs, Anita. Don't break yourself doing it, but bend a little. That's all I'm asking."



"You said the thing on the dance floor was sort of your fault. You never explained that."



"I told Nathaniel you don't like passive men. You like a little dominance, a little pushiness. Not much, but enough so that you aren't the one that says, Yes, we'll have sex. You need someone to take a little of the responsibility off your shoulders."



I stared at him, studied that young face. "Is that all it is for me, Jason? I just need someone else to help me spread the guilt around so I can fuck?"



He winced. "That isn't what I said."



"Close enough."



"Get mad, if you want, but that isn't what I said, or what I meant. Get mad at me, but don't take it out on Nathaniel, okay?"



"I was raised that if you had sex it was a commitment. I still believe that."



"You don't feel committed to me." He said it as if it were just a fact, nothing personal.



"No, we're friends, and I was sort of a friend in need. But you're a grownup, and you understood what it was. I'm not sure Nathaniel is enough of a grown-up to understand that. Hell, he can't even say no to women who are almost strangers."



"He turned down at least three dance offers while we were talking, and I know for a fact that he turned down the beautiful Jessica Arnet for a date."



"He did, really?"



Jason nodded. "Yep."



"I didn't think he'd be able to say no."



"He's been practicing."



"Practicing?"



"He tells you no sometimes, doesn't he?"



I thought about it. "Sometimes he won't repeat conversations to me, or tell me things. He says I'll get mad at him, and so I should ask the other person."



"You wanted, no, demanded, that Nathaniel be more responsible for himself. You made him get his driver's license. You've forced him to be less dependent, right?"



"Yeah."



"But you didn't think what it would mean, did you?"



"What do you mean?"



"You wanted him to be independent, to think for himself, to decide what he wanted out of life, right?"



"Yeah, in fact, I said almost exactly that to him. I wanted him to decide what he wanted to do with his life. I mean he's only twenty for God's sake."



"And what he's decided he wants to do is be with you," Jason said, and his voice was softer, gentle.



"That is not a life decision. I meant like a career choice, maybe go back to college."



"He's got a job, Anita, and he makes better money as a stripper than most college graduates do."



"You can't strip forever," I said.



"And most marriages don't last forever either."



My eyes must have gotten too wide, because he hurried with his next words, "What I mean is that you treat everything like it's a forever question. Like you can't change your mind later. I don't mean to imply that Nathaniel wants you to make an honest man of him. That never came up, honest."



"Well, that's a relief, at least."



"You'll need a pomme de sang for years, Anita. Years."



"Jean-Claude said maybe in a few months I'd be able to feed from a distance, and not need the up close and personal stuff."



"You've made progress on going longer between feedings, Anita. But you haven't made much progress on truly controlling the ardeur."



"I controlled it on the dance floor," I said.



He sighed. "You shut it down on the dance floor. That's not control, not really. It's like you have a gun, and you can lock it in the gun safe, but that doesn't teach you how to shoot it."



"A gun analogy? You've been thinking on this for awhile, haven't you?"



"Ever since Nathaniel told me that you hadn't been allowing him release during the feedings."



"Allow? He didn't ask, and how was I supposed to know he wasn't even doing himself in private? I mean, I didn't tell him not to."



"You can play with yourself, and it feels good, but it doesn't meet the real need."



I pushed my back tight into the tree, as if the solid wood could catch me, because I felt like I was falling. Falling into a chasm so deep that I'd never get out. "I don't know if I can do Nathaniel and still look at myself in the mirror in the morning."



"Why does doing Nathaniel bother you that much?"



"Because he confuses my radar. I have friends, I have boyfriends, I have people who are dependent on me, people I take care of. I do not fuck the people I take care of. It would be like taking advantage of your position."



"And Nathaniel falls into the taking care of category?" he asked.



"Yes."



"You think by having sex that you're taking advantage?"



"Yes."



"That's not how Nathaniel sees it."



"I know that, Jason, now." I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the roughness of the bark. "Damn it, I want the ardeur under control so I don't have to keep making these kinds of decisions."



"And if I could wave a magic wand over you and you instantly could control the ardeur, what then? What would you do with Nathaniel?"



"I'd help him find a place of his own."



"He does most of the housework around your place. He buys your groceries. He and Micah do most of the cooking. Nathaniel taking care of the domestic stuff is what allows Micah and you both to work all those hours. Without Nathaniel, how would you organize it?"



"I don't want to keep Nathaniel just to make my life easier. That's like evil."



Jason let out a big sigh. "Are you really this slow, or just driving me crazy on purpose?"



"What?" I said.



He shook his head. "Anita, what I'm trying to say is that Nathaniel doesn't feel used. He feels useful. He doesn't need a girlfriend, because he thinks he already has one. He doesn't want to date, because he's already living with someone. He doesn't need to look for a place of his own, because he already has one. Micah knows that, Nathaniel knows that, the only person who doesn't know that seems to be you."



"Jason..."



He stopped me with a raised hand. "Anita, you have two men who live with you. They both love you. They both want you. They both support your career. Between the two of them, they're like your wife. There are people in this world who would kill to have what you have. And you'd just throw it away."



I just looked at him, because I didn't know what to say.



"The only thing that keeps this little domestic arrangement from being perfect for all concerned is that Nathaniel is not getting his needs met." He stepped in close to me, but the look on his face was so serious that it never occurred to me that kissing was coming, because it wasn't. "You've set up the dynamics so that you wear the pants in this trio, and that's fine, it works for Micah and Nathaniel. But here's the hard part about wearing the pants, Anita, it means you get to make the tough decisions. Your life is working better than it's worked since I met you. You've been happier, longer, than I've ever seen you. Micah, I don't know that well, but Nathaniel has never been this happy in all the years I've known him. Everything is working, Anita. Everybody is making it work. Everybody but..."



"Me," I said.



"You," he said.



"You know, Jason, I can't say you're wrong about any of it, but I hate you right this second."



"Hate me, if you want to, but I'm tired of watching people have everything their heart desires and throw it away."



"This isn't what my heart desired," I said.



"Maybe not, but it's what you needed. You needed a wife in that old 1950s sort of way."



"Doesn't everybody," I said.



He grinned at me. "No, some people would like to be the wife, but I just can't find a woman who's man enough to keep me in the style to which I have not yet become accustomed."



It made me smile. Damn it. "You are the only one who can say shit like this to me, and not have me pissed at them for days, or longer. How do you get away with it?"



He planted a quick kiss on my my lips, more brotherly than anything. "I don't know how I get away with it, but if I could bottle it, Jean-Claude would pay a fortune for it."



"Maybe not just Jean-Claude."



"Maybe not." He stepped back smiling, but his eyes had that serious look again. "Please, Anita, go home, and don't freak. Just go home, and be happy. Be happy, and let everyone around you be happy. Is that so hard?"



When Jason said it like that, it didn't seem hard. In fact, it seemed to make a lot of sense, but inside, it felt hard. Inside it felt like the hardest thing in the world. To just let go, and not pick everything to death. To just let go and enjoy what you had. To just let go and not make everybody around you miserable with your own internal dialogue. To just let go and be happy. So simple. So difficult. So terrifying.