The first vestiges of anger assaulted them. They hated their anger. No. They despised it. Yes. There was no confusing the fact. The Man and the Beast preferred to laugh and dance and do nasty things to good people…while laughing or dancing. Or both. The Man shrugged, rolling the burden of his pique off his shoulders, and the Beast panted. Anger evaporated fun.
The pair lay on their backs, luxuriating in the plush comforter covering the hotel bed. Sunlight made the brocade fabric shimmer beneath them, highlighting the pattern of fleur-de-lis and ornate scrolls. After the disappointment they’d endured in losing the Delectable and many of their minions afterward, they deserved the comforts of the high-end suite. Mommy’s credit card had paid for it. Yay, Mommy. Membership seriously had its privileges, and the Man and Beast were worthy. Or they weren’t and they’d enjoy it anyway. No confusing that either or the thrill of driving the luxury car they’d stolen. But these thrills were only temporary. They desperately needed to be with the Delectable again.
Desperation did not sit well on the Man’s tongue. The Beast liked it even less. But what to do now the aloha bastard and his rainbow coalition of buttheads had killed every member of the Waking World horde but two and cut the Man and the Beast off from their goal?
The Man reached out to the Mommy to help her find the right rhythm in the bobbing of her head in his lap. She was a handy surrogate. He and the Beast relished the suckling noises she made. It calmed them and allowed them to think. The Man placed a finger to his chin and tapping lightly, struck a scholarly pose. The Beast, somehow, did the same. Everything they did they did with flourish. Otherwise what was the point?
What to do? What to do? It took so long to fill the ranks of a good horde and the ankou were not a species but a series of anomalies, psychic wounds turned to flesh. The pair recognized their problem. What they and their minions were could not be sustained. So much depended on corrupting human souls and avoiding being slain by dream guardians. So few ankou were made. They did not breed as the humans or manifest from the Dreaming as the howlers did. The ankou were body thieves. Not even the combined powers of the Man and the Beast could change their numbers in any truly significant way. Certainly they were strong enough to push any humans on the verge of turning into an ankou over the edge, but they could only push, not compel the transformation.
The problem had been insurmountable until they’d gotten a nose full of the Delectable in the Waking World. Relishing the scent-memory, the Man pushed Mommy’s head down as far as it would go and used pressure to slow its rise. Ahhh, so much better deep and slow.
The Delectable’s scent had let the Man and Beast understand what she was. And now they would acquire her and become a race. The ankou would become more than anomalies with her beneath them. Sweet Delectable. She would be their means, the back on which the Man and the Beast built an empire. The Beast agreed, and the satisfaction of the decision climaxed within the warmth of the mouth encasing the Man.
He moaned. The Beast’s tail thumped happily as it struck the comforter. Sweet satisfaction. They’d just need to go back to the Delectable’s hideout, defile her sanctuary, kill her Somnian and claim their prize. The idea tasted good. Murder and mayhem would be fun again. They liked that. No. They loved it.
Chapter Eight
“Wings? Dear God, why do I have wings?”
Keoni woke with Ciaran’s thoughts reverberating through his head. She perched on the glass partition separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom and flapped her wings maniacally.
He yawned, pushing himself off the tiles on the foreign bathroom floor. Thick, fragrant steam enveloped him. His little bird broke through the mango-scented cloud, zipped past his head and circled the room in crazed loops.
Wow, she’d
The pair lay on their backs, luxuriating in the plush comforter covering the hotel bed. Sunlight made the brocade fabric shimmer beneath them, highlighting the pattern of fleur-de-lis and ornate scrolls. After the disappointment they’d endured in losing the Delectable and many of their minions afterward, they deserved the comforts of the high-end suite. Mommy’s credit card had paid for it. Yay, Mommy. Membership seriously had its privileges, and the Man and Beast were worthy. Or they weren’t and they’d enjoy it anyway. No confusing that either or the thrill of driving the luxury car they’d stolen. But these thrills were only temporary. They desperately needed to be with the Delectable again.
Desperation did not sit well on the Man’s tongue. The Beast liked it even less. But what to do now the aloha bastard and his rainbow coalition of buttheads had killed every member of the Waking World horde but two and cut the Man and the Beast off from their goal?
The Man reached out to the Mommy to help her find the right rhythm in the bobbing of her head in his lap. She was a handy surrogate. He and the Beast relished the suckling noises she made. It calmed them and allowed them to think. The Man placed a finger to his chin and tapping lightly, struck a scholarly pose. The Beast, somehow, did the same. Everything they did they did with flourish. Otherwise what was the point?
What to do? What to do? It took so long to fill the ranks of a good horde and the ankou were not a species but a series of anomalies, psychic wounds turned to flesh. The pair recognized their problem. What they and their minions were could not be sustained. So much depended on corrupting human souls and avoiding being slain by dream guardians. So few ankou were made. They did not breed as the humans or manifest from the Dreaming as the howlers did. The ankou were body thieves. Not even the combined powers of the Man and the Beast could change their numbers in any truly significant way. Certainly they were strong enough to push any humans on the verge of turning into an ankou over the edge, but they could only push, not compel the transformation.
The problem had been insurmountable until they’d gotten a nose full of the Delectable in the Waking World. Relishing the scent-memory, the Man pushed Mommy’s head down as far as it would go and used pressure to slow its rise. Ahhh, so much better deep and slow.
The Delectable’s scent had let the Man and Beast understand what she was. And now they would acquire her and become a race. The ankou would become more than anomalies with her beneath them. Sweet Delectable. She would be their means, the back on which the Man and the Beast built an empire. The Beast agreed, and the satisfaction of the decision climaxed within the warmth of the mouth encasing the Man.
He moaned. The Beast’s tail thumped happily as it struck the comforter. Sweet satisfaction. They’d just need to go back to the Delectable’s hideout, defile her sanctuary, kill her Somnian and claim their prize. The idea tasted good. Murder and mayhem would be fun again. They liked that. No. They loved it.
Chapter Eight
“Wings? Dear God, why do I have wings?”
Keoni woke with Ciaran’s thoughts reverberating through his head. She perched on the glass partition separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom and flapped her wings maniacally.
He yawned, pushing himself off the tiles on the foreign bathroom floor. Thick, fragrant steam enveloped him. His little bird broke through the mango-scented cloud, zipped past his head and circled the room in crazed loops.
Wow, she’d
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