hey, somebody, she’s
beating me
!”
“Any moment now,” I grumbled, and grabbed him when he tried to run.
But he was smoking and panicked and now also slippery, and it was like trying to catch a greased pig. “Let me go, you crazy bitch!”
“I’m trying to help you, you stupid— Oof!” I took a heel in the stomach and an elbow to the chin before I managed to wrestle him to the floor and sit on his legs. Which gave me a chance to finish gooping him up while he yelled and cursed and bucked like a rodeo bull.
And then suddenly stopped, and craned his head over his shoulder to look at the damaged area. It was shiny and pink and pimply, the parts that weren’t faintly green. But at least it was no longer smoking. “Hey. Hey, that feels pretty good.”
“So glad you approve.”
“Yeah, it’s okay.” He thought about it for a moment. “But I think I still feel a little bit of a burn. Maybe you ought to massage it in some more. You know, really getin there and—” He cut off, noticing the bare feet that had stopped in front of him. The ones attached to the strong calves and muscular thighs and terry-clothed torso of the guy glaring down at him. “Or, you know. Not.”
I slapped the last of the salve on, just to hear him squeal, and then climbed off. “Your things are where you left them,” I told Louis-Cesare, who nodded and edged past, giving me a hell of a view as he made his way up the stairs.
“No way he really looks like that,” Ray said enviously. “It’s probably just a glamourie. I bet he’s really got zits and a potbelly and saggy buns.”
I bit my lip. I could personally guarantee that absolutely no part of Louis-Cesare sagged. “You know he can hear you, right?”
“Like I care. I mean, what’s he gonna do to me? What’s anybody gonna do? I’m already a dead man.”
“Yeah. You’re a vampire.”
“Not that kind of dead. Not the good kind—”
“There’s a good kind?”
“Not lately. My life is hell,” he said melodramatically. And then he paused, obviously waiting for me to ask why.
I let him wait.
The scene in the kitchen hadn’t changed, except that my ward or son or possibly pet—the jury was still out—had also left the blankie and clambered up onto the seat next to Mircea. And was eyeing him suspiciously, like he didn’t trust him.
Smart boy.
I sat down and scooped Stinky into my lap.
“And who is this…young man?” Mircea guessed, because Stinky’s brown fur was poking out of the sides of a diaper and a pale blue undershirt. The matching booties were nowhere to be seen, possibly eaten, or just left somewhere because they hadn’t been designed to fit long monkey-like toes.
Claire noticed about the same time I did. “Where are your booties?” she demanded.
Stinky blinked huge gray baby eyes at her, and attempted to look innocent. But there was a self-satisfied air about him that did not bode well for the despised footwear. I stifled a smile.
“He likes being naked,” I reminded her.
“Well, he’s going to learn to like clothes,” she said adamantly. Stinky and I exchanged glances. We had our doubts about that.
Mircea was still looking at me, so I shrugged. “You’ve met him before.”
“I have?” An elegant eyebrow went up. Because Mircea was not accustomed to forgetting a face. Much less one like Stinky’s.
“You were a bit out of it at the time,” I said, and left it at that. Bringing up the events that had led to the death of his and Radu’s other brother would ruin any mood, and this one was problematic enough as it was.
Fortunately Mircea didn’t pursue it. “He is fey?”
“Duergar-Brownie,” I said, my chin resting on the downy fur atop Stinky’s head. “He’s one of the hybrid crossbreeds the Dark Circle’s been littering around. I found him at an auction a while ago—”
“Fascinating,” Marlowe interrupted harshly. “But can we get on with this?”
“Depends on what this is,” I said, pretty sure I
beating me
!”
“Any moment now,” I grumbled, and grabbed him when he tried to run.
But he was smoking and panicked and now also slippery, and it was like trying to catch a greased pig. “Let me go, you crazy bitch!”
“I’m trying to help you, you stupid— Oof!” I took a heel in the stomach and an elbow to the chin before I managed to wrestle him to the floor and sit on his legs. Which gave me a chance to finish gooping him up while he yelled and cursed and bucked like a rodeo bull.
And then suddenly stopped, and craned his head over his shoulder to look at the damaged area. It was shiny and pink and pimply, the parts that weren’t faintly green. But at least it was no longer smoking. “Hey. Hey, that feels pretty good.”
“So glad you approve.”
“Yeah, it’s okay.” He thought about it for a moment. “But I think I still feel a little bit of a burn. Maybe you ought to massage it in some more. You know, really getin there and—” He cut off, noticing the bare feet that had stopped in front of him. The ones attached to the strong calves and muscular thighs and terry-clothed torso of the guy glaring down at him. “Or, you know. Not.”
I slapped the last of the salve on, just to hear him squeal, and then climbed off. “Your things are where you left them,” I told Louis-Cesare, who nodded and edged past, giving me a hell of a view as he made his way up the stairs.
“No way he really looks like that,” Ray said enviously. “It’s probably just a glamourie. I bet he’s really got zits and a potbelly and saggy buns.”
I bit my lip. I could personally guarantee that absolutely no part of Louis-Cesare sagged. “You know he can hear you, right?”
“Like I care. I mean, what’s he gonna do to me? What’s anybody gonna do? I’m already a dead man.”
“Yeah. You’re a vampire.”
“Not that kind of dead. Not the good kind—”
“There’s a good kind?”
“Not lately. My life is hell,” he said melodramatically. And then he paused, obviously waiting for me to ask why.
I let him wait.
The scene in the kitchen hadn’t changed, except that my ward or son or possibly pet—the jury was still out—had also left the blankie and clambered up onto the seat next to Mircea. And was eyeing him suspiciously, like he didn’t trust him.
Smart boy.
I sat down and scooped Stinky into my lap.
“And who is this…young man?” Mircea guessed, because Stinky’s brown fur was poking out of the sides of a diaper and a pale blue undershirt. The matching booties were nowhere to be seen, possibly eaten, or just left somewhere because they hadn’t been designed to fit long monkey-like toes.
Claire noticed about the same time I did. “Where are your booties?” she demanded.
Stinky blinked huge gray baby eyes at her, and attempted to look innocent. But there was a self-satisfied air about him that did not bode well for the despised footwear. I stifled a smile.
“He likes being naked,” I reminded her.
“Well, he’s going to learn to like clothes,” she said adamantly. Stinky and I exchanged glances. We had our doubts about that.
Mircea was still looking at me, so I shrugged. “You’ve met him before.”
“I have?” An elegant eyebrow went up. Because Mircea was not accustomed to forgetting a face. Much less one like Stinky’s.
“You were a bit out of it at the time,” I said, and left it at that. Bringing up the events that had led to the death of his and Radu’s other brother would ruin any mood, and this one was problematic enough as it was.
Fortunately Mircea didn’t pursue it. “He is fey?”
“Duergar-Brownie,” I said, my chin resting on the downy fur atop Stinky’s head. “He’s one of the hybrid crossbreeds the Dark Circle’s been littering around. I found him at an auction a while ago—”
“Fascinating,” Marlowe interrupted harshly. “But can we get on with this?”
“Depends on what this is,” I said, pretty sure I
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