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He frowned. “Now you’re being deliberately insulting. I understand, though. Really, I do. Some demons are like that. Karvanak likes nothing better than to destroy the will of his subordinates, whether they’ve been captured, bought, or hired. RÄksasas are born mean, and they’re arrogant.”
“Yeah. I got that impression,” I said, playing with my cookie. Vanzir had been one of Karvanak’s victims, too. While it was harder for me to feel sympathy for him, I forced myself to stare him straight in the face.
He returned my look, open-eyed. Vanzir was wiry and lean. His eyes, glimmering like a prism, betrayed his heritage. I’d expected them to be bloodred like Menolly’s eyes turned when something set her off. But they weren’t. They were a rainbow of colors. Against the platinum of his shaggy hair, his eyes stuck out, brilliant and shining, and he’d outlined them in dark kohl. Still silent, I lowered my gaze to his lips. They were thin, like those belonging to a number of men, and pale as the night. Dimples punctuated his cheeks, even as gaunt as they were. After another moment, he hiccupped and broke into a slightly mocking smile.
“You finished, or are you still looking for signs of the dogfaced boy?” he said. Pointing to his head, he added, “No horns in sight. And I guarantee you, no pointed tail, either. Nothing’s barbed. Not my fingers, toes, or cock.”
As I blushed, he pursed his lips and blew me a kiss. “Oh, poor puddy. Did I embarrass you? How does it feel to be the butt of a joke? That’s what Karvanak put me through every day. And he made me feed. I’d managed to go for thirty-five years without draining anybody’s dreams, and the motherfucker made me feed.”
Vanzir suddenly leaned across the table. I jumped, but he just slid his hand next to mine. He didn’t touch me, just tapped his fingers on the table. “I’m like an alcoholic, you see. Once I taste the energy, I want more. But I don’t like what it turns me into. The RÄksasa knew I’d taken a vow to stop, and he threatened to kill his—my—victims if I didn’t drink from their souls. So I did, to save them. I siphoned their souls and fed on their hope and their love and their life force. But at least they were alive when I left their dreams. So, Miss Delilah, maybe you’re right not to trust me. I can live with that. But stifle the wisecracks until you’ve walked in my world. You aren’t as funny as you think you are.”
I felt sick to my stomach as images from my childhood welled up to flood my mind.
. . . a ring of children dancing around my sisters and me, chanting, “Windwalkers, Windwalkers, got no home . . . Nobody wants you, you’re all alone!” They kept it up all the way home until Mother heard them and came out, shooing them away. We didn’t let her see us cry; we didn’t want her to feel bad because it was her blood that made them taunt us . . .
. . . one of my uncles pointing at us as we walked into his home during his midsummer gala. He whispered to his lady friend, “Those are the three I was telling you about. My brother’s dirty little half-breeds . . .” Camille and I forced Menolly to keep her mouth shut so Father wouldn’t know . . .
. . . the neighbor boy racing after me with his dog, making me so afraid that I transformed. They treed me, and I couldn’t come down for hours. Camille finally noticed what was going on and beat the living crap out of him, then climbed the tree to coax me down. We never told anybody . . .
And here I’d been, doing the same thing to Vanzir because of what he was. It wasn’t as if he were still our enemy. The ritual had provided us with a safety net. We could kill him on a whim, and he couldn’t raise a hand to defend himself against us. And I’d been taking advantage of that.
I glanced over at the sink, where Camille was studiously ignoring us, arranging more cookies on a plate while Iris checked the tea. Menolly had hovered her way up to the ceiling and was hanging there, midair, eyes closed. I knew she could hear our conversation, but she’d chosen not to interfere. Voices from the living room told me the boys were coming back.
Hurriedly, I leaned across the table to whisper in Vanzir’s ear. “I’m sorry. Truly. I’ve been an ass, and I apologize.” I swallowed my pride. “I’ve been through it before. We all have. I guess sometimes it’s easy to become the very thing you hate.”
His gaze still fixated on my face, Vanzir nodded. “Yeah, I know. It’s all too easy to slide into the slot you really don’t want to fit in. Been there, done that, don’t want to go there again.” He stretched. His Death Zombies T-shirt was ripped, safety-pinned in a few places, and his black leather pants were dusty, but not dirty. He definitely had the rocker dude look going, I thought.
At that moment, Smoky and Morio entered the room, Zach and Roz trailing behind them. Roz turned to Menolly, his face deadpan. Whatever the guys had discussed, I had a feeling they weren’t going to share it with us.
“I’ll go with you. I want Zach to come, too. You may think he’s too naïve, but trust me, he’ll be a good ally. And my ex-wife likes Weres,” Roz added softly, glancing at me. “Make no mistake: She plays both sides of the fence.”
“I guess we should head out,” Menolly said. “Even if Fraale isn’t there anymore, somebody’s bound to have noticed her. Kitten, you need to change.”
Wondering just what kind of getup she was going to stuff me into, I slid out of my chair. “Coming. Camille, can you and Morio try to pinpoint Chase with your magic? There are some of his things in my room, if you need them.”
Camille nodded. “We’ll get right on it. Smoky’s going to head out to his land to see if the Triple Threat has heard anything.” We’d begun using the nickname for Titania, Morgaine, and Aeval sometime back, but usually we only used it between ourselves. Now, the guys glanced at her.
“The Triple Threat? And they know you call them this?” Roz asked, grinning like a bean Sidhe.
“Of course not, you idiot,” Camille bantered back.
“What about you?” Roz turned to Smoky. “You call them that to their faces?”
Smoky let out a low harrumph. “They’re a pack of kooks, but I’m always a gentleman—”
As Camille, Menolly, and I let out a collective snicker, he just arched an eyebrow. “At least you have to admit that I have more manners than my beloved wife.” He leered at Camille. “Isn’t that right? Anyway, I have nothing to fear from them. They aren’t a threat to me.”
“Face it, love, you’re stuck with me,” Camille said, fondly patting his hand as he laid it on her shoulder. “Rude, crude, and totally lewd.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. “Even though I do have to share you with the fox. And the Svartan.” And then, like a silent shadow in the night, he slipped out the back door and was gone in under a minute flat.
I whistled. “When the dude moves, he moves.”
“You can say that again,” Camille said, a sly smile on her lips.
“Oh for criminey’s sake . . . I didn’t mean it like that—”
“Kitten? Get a move on!” Menolly’s voice echoed from the stairwell, and I headed toward the living room.
