Panther Prowling

  I leaned my forehead against hers. It felt like looking into a mirror as we gazed into each other’s eyes. “I wish you could have grown up with us. I want you to meet Camille and Menolly.”

  “I have, just not in this form. They’ve seen me in my leopard form.”

  “Yes, but it’s just not the same. I guess that doesn’t matter right now. So . . . my life as a Death Maiden was decided from the moment I was born. I wonder if Father knew which one of us would die . . . and which would live.”

  “No, he didn’t. He told me that. And since we weren’t born yet, what difference would it have made if he had? He was given no choice in that matter. And before you go and pull any survivor’s guilt on me, frankly, I think I’d rather be here than walking in your shoes. Honestly, does it matter whether my life is in Haseofon or over in Otherworld? I exist and I’m happy. That’s enough for me.” She smiled then, and kissed me on the cheek.

  Still trying to sort out my feelings, I shrugged. “I guess . . . you’re right. You’re happy, and you’ve never known any other life.”

  “Neither have you. So . . .”

  Darting a glance at the door, I suddenly wanted to be in bed with Shade, at home with my sisters. Haseofon loomed large and imposing, and utterly cold. “I think . . . I think I need to think about this for a while. To sort it all out. This will most likely change the way I view my childhood.”

  “Didn’t that happen already, when you found out about me?” Arial wasn’t letting up on me, but she grinned. “You adjusted to that.”

  I laughed then. “Yeah, I did. Happily. I just have to get used to the knowledge. My path was destined from birth. It wasn’t all just a random happenstance. I have a feeling it was that way for Camille and Menolly, too. We all seem to be playing right into the hands of the Hags of Fate.”

  “They have a way of beating down the door when they want you for something.” Arial languorously stood, stretching. “You should go back. You shouldn’t linger here too long while you are still alive. But I’m so glad I could finally be honest with you. I’ve wanted to tell you ever since we first met.”

  “I’m glad, too. At least I know what happened. At least Father was able to make his peace, and we know he’s headed to be with Mother. He’s waited so long, and he loves her so much. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever love Shade as much as he loved her. I mean . . . I love him. Very much, but I think . . .”

  Arial shook her head. “From what I’ve seen, the kind of grand love like Father had for Mother comes around rarely. And I think it’s more unstable than grounded love. Grand love is blind and all consuming, and overwhelming. Honestly? I would rather have a love that is truthful and solid. I think it brings more happiness in the long run. Grand love usually leads to tragedy.”

  “How did you get to be so wise?”

  She laughed. “I read a lot. Greta brings me books from both Otherworld and Earthside. I know five languages, you know—English, Calouk, Elfin, Japanese—thanks to Mizuki—and Irish, thanks to Fiona. So I read a lot. Romances are my favorite. I especially love an author over Earthside—Mary Stewart.”

  Just another little fact I hadn’t known. “You play the harpsichord, you speak five languages, just what else can you do?”

  She walked me out to the hall. “I can cook, and I’m pretty good with wrestling—yes, wrestling! I make perfume blends, and I can grow vegetables like nobody else. How do you think we get so much produce here during the perpetual autumn? I have a hothouse where I grow food for the Death Maidens.”

  I didn’t even want to ask how they ate when they were dead.

  The chaos clamoring inside of my head began to soften and calm down as she chatted along. She was in the middle of a story about a watermelon fight between two of the Death Maidens by the time we reached the front door. Greta was nowhere in sight, but I felt the tug—it was time to return home.

  “I love you.” I hugged her. “Thank you—you’ve filled in blank spots I never thought would be answered.”

  “Thank Himself. He freed my tongue and gave the okay.” And then, she kissed me on the cheek. “It’s time for you to go.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I want to, and yet . . . I don’t.”

  But I couldn’t stay there. I gave her one last squeeze and a kiss, then headed out the door. Immediately I was transformed back to Panther and raced through the woods. The trees became a blur, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up next to Shade. I was home again.

  As I sat up, rubbing my neck, I glanced over at the window. It was still dark. The clock read 4:00 A.M. Menolly would still be up. Needing to talk to somebody about everything I’d found out, I slipped out from beneath the covers and headed downstairs, leaving Shade breathing easy in the bed.

  As I entered the living room, I saw Menolly there, rocking Maggie on her lap. Familiar sounds from the kitchen told me Hanna was up. But that was odd—she usually didn’t get up until five thirty, so something had to have happened.

  I jerked my thumb toward the kitchen. “What’s up? Why is Hanna awake so early? And boy, have I got something to tell you.”

  Menolly glanced up at me. “Hanna is up so early because . . . well . . . Roz was in bed with her when Fraale showed up. Things are kind of a mess.”

  “Uh-oh. So not a good thing.” I sat down on the ottoman.

  Fraale was a succubus. She was also Roz’s ex-wife. She still loved him, and he loved her, but there was no way they could make it work, not after what had happened to them. But with Hanna in the middle . . .

  I glanced at the kitchen again. “Are they in there, all three of them?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, and though they’ve kept it down, I know for a fact it’s not going easy. I have no idea what to expect.”

  Just then, Hanna appeared. She was dressed for traveling, and a pained look filled her eyes. “I want to go back to the Northlands.”

  Roz followed her in. “Please, talk some sense into her. You can’t go, Hanna. Fraale . . . she’s . . .”

  Hanna whirled. “She’s still in love with you, and I can see it in your eyes. You still love her. I won’t be stuck in the middle. No, I want to go home, and I want to go now.”

  I glanced over at Menolly. “What the hell are we going to do?”

  She held Maggie tighter and shook her head. “Don’t ask me. I have no idea how to handle this.”

  Chapter 5

  Roz reached out and took Hanna by the shoulders. “Hanna, love, please—don’t go. You can’t. We need you too much.” He paused. “I need you.”

  “But you don’t need me.” Fraale appeared from the kitchen, her voice bitter and tearstained. We’d been witness to this interlude before. She was a plump, curvaceous succubus with mousy brown hair, but on second look, she was a stunner—absolutely gorgeous. Even to me, and I wasn’t bi like Menolly or Camille. Fraale exuded sexuality, and she seemed delightfully touchable.

  “I can’t let myself need you! You know what that leads to.” Roz’s voice broke as he turned away. “I can’t even allow myself to remember what it was like to love you because I still get so angry.”

  Their story was a true tragedy. Fraale and Roz had been Fae when they’d been married, centuries ago in Otherworld, until Zeus took it upon himself to try to seduce Fraale. Trouble was, Hera was close on his heels. Despite the fact that Fraale resisted Zeus’s overtures, Hera pitched a fit and turned her into a succubus.

  Rozurial begged Zeus for help, but Zeus’s idea of making things right was to turn him into an incubus. Their marriage had pretty much disintegrated from there. Fraale and Roz parted ways, but the core of their love, and the betrayal of the gods, had never left either one.

  Fraale hung her head. “I don’t mean to make matters difficult. I just . . . I just wanted to talk to you. I miss you . . . I . . .”

  She’d never give up loving him. She’d never been able to move on, while
Roz was burying his feelings and calling it closure. Perhaps Arial was right—perhaps all great loves were bound for tragedy.

  Roz finally looked at her, with a bitter, lost look. “It’s better if we don’t talk. Better if we don’t see each other. What good can come from it? All we ever do is reminisce about times we will never be able to relive. We lose ourselves in memories, and then we have to face our loss all over again. We can never be who we were. There’s no going home. We’ll never be able to recapture what we had. The gods stripped all of that from us with their petty bickering. They tore apart our lives. I curse the names of Zeus and Hera every day.”

  Fraale covered her face and turned away, sobbing. Hanna pushed Roz aside and wrapped her arms around the crying succubus.

  “There, there, girl. Come, sit down.”

  Fraale let herself be guided over to the sofa, where Hanna settled her near Menolly. She glanced over her shoulder at Roz. “How dare you be so cold? This woman loves you.”

  Roz looked absolutely stricken. “I don’t want to hurt her, but . . . I can’t live in the past. If I do, the wounds will never heal.”

  Hanna caught his gaze and stared at him for a moment, a soft smile on her lips. “I lost my love to Hyto. I lost my husband. I lost my children. But the day I ever pretend they didn’t exist, may the gods strike me down for dishonoring the memory of what once was. I remember the past, even as I try to make a new life here, now.”

  “And now you say you want to go back to the Northlands to search for your daughters?” Roz shook his head. “Isn’t that just going to lead to more heartache?”

  Hanna sighed, still holding Fraale’s hand. Fraale stared at her, tears streaking her face. “You are right, of course. It is folly to hope.”

  Sniffing, dashing away her tears, Fraale’s lip quivered. “You lost your children? I never had any.”

  “Smoky’s father murdered my husband. To save my daughters, I was forced to send them into the world alone. I have no idea whether they lived or died—they were young. My son died while we were in captivity. I . . . I . . .” It was Hanna’s turn to break down. The woman seldom shed a tear, seldom spoke of her pain, but the heightened emotions in the room seemed to be taking their toll.

  “I poisoned my son. The dragon drove him mad. There was no other option. I had to help Camille escape or Hyto would have killed her. I couldn’t take Kjell with me—he would have given us away, and even if I’d decided to chance it, I couldn’t free him from his cage. He’d lived in that cage for years, like an animal, and was quite insane. I couldn’t leave him for Hyto to torture. So . . .”

  “You killed him.” Fraale let out an enormous sigh. She gazed up at Roz. “And you came here and found love again.”

  Hanna jerked her head sharply. “Love?” Then she noticed Fraale staring at Roz. “No, not love, my dear. Your . . . Rozurial is kind and caring and passionate, but his kind? Incubi? He cannot love me the way I would need to be loved, and I make no pretense otherwise. We merely found comfort in each other’s arms. But I can see now that it was a mistake.”

  I was watching Hanna. Her movements gave her away—the flick of her hair, the darting glance toward Rozurial. She had been falling for the incubus, even though she tried to deny it. Now she was forced to face the reality of what he was. Fraale’s presence had brought that glaringly home. So Hanna was backtracking the easiest way she knew how. Denial. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, or if this was a tangle better left untouched.

  Menolly, though, apparently had no such doubts. She plopped Maggie in my lap and stood up. “Enough. Fraale, you came looking to talk to Roz because the loneliness got to be too much. Hanna, you obviously realize that what you have with Roz is probably doomed. And Roz . . .” She paused, then ducked her head. “Roz, you feel guilty over dallying with Hanna, even though your marriage has been over for centuries. But I think you’re displacing your feelings. And I think that you shouldn’t lead Hanna on. I know who you have a real crush on.”

  We all stared at her. She looked exasperated, and I suddenly had the feeling that something was going on with Menolly besides the drama of this little triangle—something that had nothing to do with Hanna or Roz or Fraale.

  “Menolly, watch yourself,” I said in a falsetto, trying to warn her from overstepping the line and making things worse. Her skills in diplomacy? Not exactly the best.

  But she ignored me. “No, the truth is you’ve still got it bad for Iris and you know that’s never going to happen, so you turned to Hanna—” As if suddenly aware of what she’d said, Menolly pressed her lips together.

  Hanna turned to Roz, confused. “Do you have feelings for Iris?”

  Fraale looked just as puzzled. “Who’s Iris?”

  “Now you’ve done it.” I turned to Menolly, both tired and irritated.

  Roz’s shoulders slumped. “Don’t bring her into it. Iris has no part in this discussion, and whatever my feelings might be for her, I will never bother her with them. Especially now.”

  Feeling like I was suddenly part of a real-life Jerry Springer Show, I took a deep breath and waded into the fray. Maybe I could undo some of the damage Menolly had just done. “Okay—calm down, everyone. Hanna, yeah, we have known Roz has a little crush on Iris for a while, but she never encouraged him. And Roz was gentleman enough never to push it. Fraale, Iris is our house sprite, remember her? She’s happily married to a leprechaun and has twins now.”

  Hanna bit her lip, and I could see the confusion growing. “Then I was just a substitute . . .”

  “No, no! Hanna . . .” Roz paused, then he let out a huge sigh and dropped to the sofa, looking angry. “None of you except for Fraale really understands what my life is like. I crave sex, constantly. Every woman that walks by attracts my attention, regardless of age or looks. All she needs is a pulse and I am aware that she’s there and sexual. Not little girls—don’t make that mistake. But from puberty on? Oh, I notice. And I hate that I notice. I wasn’t born to this, but I’m in a continual state of arousal and it’s only by very strict discipline that I’m not out every single night seducing women.”

  Menolly arched her eyebrows. She slowly lowered herself back to her seat. I followed suit and so did Hanna and Fraale. I had no clue what to say next, so decided it was best to keep my mouth shut and just let him finish his thoughts.

  Rozurial turned to Fraale. “You understand this. You know the hunger.” He stared at her hard, and at first she flinched, but then nodded.

  “Yes, I do. It’s . . .” She glanced at Menolly. “It’s like your thirst, only instead of blood, we crave sex. We live off sexual energy—it feeds us.”

  I held up my hand. “Whoa, wait a minute. What are you talking about? I’ve seen you put away a meal as big as a house, Roz.”

  He ducked his head. “Food feeds the body but not the soul. It’s true. I feed off sex. I don’t have to fuck someone every day to survive, but I want . . . I hunger . . . every day, all day. Where do you think I go when I disappear? I’m not out shopping, girl.” His eyes glistened, cold and glittering, and my panther rose up, recognizing she was in the presence of another predator. I’d never seen this side of Rozurial, but then again, I’d never bothered to look for it.

  Menolly’s fangs descended and she let out what sounded like a hiss as the tension in the room rose. “I’ve seen it in you. But you repress it well. Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “I don’t repress it. I just hide it.” Roz turned to me and cocked his head, a seductive smile washing over his face. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself shifting in my seat, biting my lip.

  “You see? I could have any woman in this house. But I have never—and will never—force a woman.” Roz let out a harsh laugh and turned to Hanna. “I do promise you, Hanna, on my oath. I haven’t just been using you.” The cocky look vanished and Roz dashed his sleeve across his face. “I really like you. I have fun hanging o
ut with you. I thought you just wanted a friends-with-benefits situation, too. Please, don’t fall for me. I don’t want to break your heart.”

  Hanna blushed. “Since you are being honest here, then so will I. The truth? Yes, I did walk into this wanting only . . . a bed friend. But you are comfortable to be around, Roz. And I suppose . . . it began to feel like I might have a full life once more.”

  “You still can.” He leaned forward, taking her hands. “There are so many possibilities here. But I’m not your future. I can only ever be someone’s present. Never bank on me as a future.”

  She let out a wistful sigh, then patted his hand. “You have not broken my heart, incubus. But you have cautioned me to guard it with more care.”

  And the room shifted again.

  Fraale reacted to the sudden charge of energy. “Now you’ve gone and done it. I’m thirsty now.” She leaned back and crossed her legs, adjusting the hem of her dress. Her thigh was plump and golden beneath the slit of the dress and she lightly stroked her skin, catching her breath as she did so. “Do you know, Rozurial, why I seek you out when the memories of the past begin to overwhelm me? Because you remind me to live in the present. You’re my reality check, as painful as it is.”

  “Life moves on.” Menolly pushed back her braids. The gleam in her eye told me she was feeling her predator strongly tonight. “I used to hate what I’d become. I hated myself every day, every time I felt the thirst for blood rise. But I’ve learned that you can’t do that for too long or you’ll kill yourself.”

  Fraale let out a sharp laugh. “Girl, you haven’t even begun to feel the weight of the centuries. Talk to me in another five hundred years, when you’ve had time for your state to truly sink in.” She may not have meant it to sound harsh, but it came out like a jab. Menolly’s brow creased, but she said nothing.

  “So . . . I have a question.” I decided to intervene before the conversation took another spiral down. “You feed off sexual energy. How does that work?”