“’Almost three millennia?’ And the other night you mentioned you became a succubus, which implies you were something before.”
“I was.”
“Can you tell me about it? I never asked because it seemed like something you’d rather leave behind, but you’ve dropped a couple of hints lately.”
“If I did so, it was entirely by accident,” Lorelei smiled ruefully.
“We can leave it alone if you want. I’ve always been curious, but it just seemed… rude to ask.”
“It is not rude. You know what I am, and at least in the abstract you know the things that I have done. I feared for a time that such details would drive you from me, but I know better now. Still, the story would not lift your spirits. You are already haunted by your own tragedy. Leave it for another night,” she said, molding her body against his.
“Where were you from?”
“Babylon,” she answered, her voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “Babylon, and closer to what Herodotus described than I think even he knew.”
Alex shrugged. “We can leave it for another night.”
“We should. It is… painful. No. Ugly,” she corrected softly upon reflection. “The tale is quite ugly.”
* * *
“Smell that,” said Billy, holding his index and middle fingers out under Jimbo’s nose. Sparks from the fire pit floated up between them into the night sky.
The bearded man grimaced, tilting his head back while slapping Billy’s hand away. “The hell’s that for?” Jimbo scowled. “Tryin’ to impress me or somethin’? You think I ain’t smelled pussy before?”
“Yeah, but that’s gen-yew-wine Fresno hooker right there,” Billy pressed. He spit some of his chew out into the fire pit, offering up his fingers again as if the flannel-clad man beside him might change his mind. “Natural redhead, too. Fresh one. Didn’ taste a lick of meth or crack on ‘er.”
Seated in a camping chair by the fire, Red watched the two with a chuckle. “Always count on Billy to appreciate the finer things in life.”
“You want a piece of her, Red? Anyone?” Billy offered, looking up at his score of companions. “She’s still in the back of my truck. Most of ‘er, anyway. We can prob’ly still warm her up good enough. Hardly a day dead. Kinda like reheated chicken, I know, but it don’t look like anyone else brought goodies to this shindig tonight.”
“Disgusting,” grunted another of their number. Eyes turned in the darkness toward a tall, broad-chested man in denim and worn leather sitting atop a cooler. “You wallow in your own shit like a pig.”
Billy seemed stopped in his stride by the comment, but only for a moment. He blinked, assessed, and then resumed his easy smile. “She ain’t shit, Jared! She’s leftovers! Clean for a hooker. Healthy, too. Gave ‘er a good run out in the desert before I dragged her back to my truck.”
“Do you think this impresses anyone?” Jared asked. “The difference between you and the rest of us is that we finish our business and our kills and then move on. You make a show of it. By now you should’ve realized no one cares. You’re still a mongrel to the rest of us.”
Again, Billy blinked. He squinted at Jared, looked at his other companions, then back once more. “What did you just call me?”
“A mongrel,” said a tall, slim blonde in leather riding chaps and black Harley tank top. She came to stand beside Jared. “It means you’re a piece of shit, and you were born that way. I guess that means maybe we shouldn’t hold it against you since it’s not your fault.”
“Hey, I’m not takin’ any shit from newbies! You better shut that mouth before I shut it for you, bitch,” Billy snapped. Jimbo and Red got a good chuckle out of it.
“The only bitch here is you,” said Jared, blending a firm tone with matter-of-fact simplicity.
At that, Billy began to bristle-literally. Black hairs all up and down his thick arms stood up on end. He stepped forward, his breath turning to a huffing snarl as his lips curled back. His nails began to stretch into long, dark claws. With a single jerk at the button of his jeans, Billy began to step out of his pants as his legs lengthened and grew fur. He took less care of his t-shirt, which tore and split as his shoulders broadened.
Jimbo and Red stayed as they sat, but several of the others backed off with concern. Jared and Sally watched and waited calmly.
“Knock it off,” ordered another voice. Billy’s head snapped to his left, looking past the campfire to the imposing figure beyond. He stood a full head taller than Billy, with long, dirty blond hair falling out under a beat-up cowboy hat and a similarly scraggly beard. He wore little more than faded flannel and denim, seeming for all the world like a homeless drifter.
That was exactly what he was, except he was also much more. “I ain’t interested in watchin’ you fight or waitin’ for you to heal up any more than I’m interested in hearin’ you whine. Sally, quit teasin’ Billy for bein’ a retard. Jared, you, too. Billy, you calm the hell down right now an’ go clean out that dead hooker mess in the back of your truck.”
At first, Billy looked as if he would ignore the older man’s advice. His stance remained tense, arms wide and legs at shoulder length as if to pounce. Yet his growth in height and mass slackened, then reversed, and his hair went back to looking normal rather than growing into a scraggly mess. He stood wearing only the tattered remains of his shirt and his socks. “But Caleb-!”
“Billy, don’t make me repeat myself. Git!”
Like a hurt puppy, Billy’s head bowed low. He snatched up his discarded jeans before he walked back to the rest stop parking lot, where his truck and its gruesome contents awaited him.
“Caleb, why in the hell did you choose him?” Jared asked.
“Same reason I chose you for my child. Same reason you chose Sally. He was a killer and he fit the bill.”
Jared turned to Sally beside him. “I didn’t choose you because you’re a slob or a retard,” he said.
“I know, daddy,” Sally said in a tone that wasn’t remotely familial. She slipped her arms up over Jared’s shoulders, holding to him much as a daughter wouldn’t.
Caleb tilted his head as he conceded, “Didn’t exactly have the kind of fun with him you had with Sally, though. Went more like it went with you. ‘cept Billy was a bit sloppier. But you make investments, you know? Gotta see ‘em through. He might be less sophisticated an’ charmin’ than the rest of you-“
A long, loud belch interrupted him. Jimbo put down his beer can. “Sorry,” he muttered guiltily.
“-but that don’t mean he ain’t worth his place at the table. Or the campfire, as it happens. Just remember, we’re all family here. We’re a pack. Do what you want when you’re out wandering, but when we come together like this, we’re all on the same side.”
“Seems less like family when we’re missin’ someone,” noted Red. He didn’t look Caleb in the eye as he spoke, nor anyone else, gazing instead into the fire. “Been almost two months now.”
“Now, Red, you know I’m worried about Diana just like the rest of you,” Caleb told him.
“Are you?” Red asked. “I’m startin’ to wonder. Been three months we been stayin’ clear of them dead little bitches, all the way from Tacoma to Everett, just to keep them happy, and ain’t one of us done shit to get her back ‘cause you told us not to. Said you’d handle it.”
“I am handlin’ it, Red,” Caleb assured him. “I’m surprised you care so much. Last I checked, you an’ Diana didn’t exactly get along.”
“I care enough to wonder if this is how you’d handle things if it was my ass got snatched away,” countered Red. “She’s pack, right? Family. You always said so, weird as she was.”
“What’s weird about Diana?” wondered Sally.
“She talks funny,” answered Jared.
“Course she talks funny,” snapped Caleb, “she was a goddamn poetry an’ theater major when I found her! And a Canadian!” He turned his attention to Red. “Goddammit, boy, I told you before, we ain’t got no way of just bargin’ in there an’ gettin’ her back when we don’t even know where they’re keepin’ her.”