The House of the Rising Sun, Chapter Eleven

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: House of the Rising Sun
Fandoms: a cross over between Marvel's X-Men(to some degree) Universe and the Anita Blake Universe
Rating: no one under 18. there will be blood and gore, sex and violence. dirty language and whatever else i feel like tossing in here.
Warning: as i said, sex and violence and dirty words. said sex will include, but not be limited to, M/F, M/M, M/F/F, F/F, M/M/F and probably any other combination i can work out. weak stomach, not my fault. you have been warned.
Disclaimer: i do not own anyone from the Marvel universe. i do not own anyone from the Anita Blake universe. i don't even own Gin. i'm lucky to own myself. i swear i'm not making any money from this. i just do what the sick voices inside my head tell me to. i write purely for my enjoyment. and possibly the comments. please don't sue, harass or bother me. i have no money to pay you, but i do have a really nasty temper. and i know some good cuss words.

Author's Notes: moved things forward a little to get the story going.

The House of the Rising Sun: The Index


He sighed and glanced around the darkened interior of the club. It was a packed house, as it was almost every night, the place nearly overflowing with patrons. While a few of them were lycanthropes and other vampires, the majority were mortals. Amazing, beautiful, wonderful mortals. Each of them seemed to be a brilliantly glowing flame in the shadows, their humanity and blood calling to him in much the same way their emotions did. Tempted him. Every last one of them.

All of them, human and not so human alike, had their attention focused on the stage, where Stephen and Gregory, the twin lycanthropic brothers, were performing together. An extra special treat for the club's patrons. Even with the music playing, the drums and bass thumping loudly through the speakers, the sounds of the crowd's hearts beat out an alternate, pulsing rhythm that called to him.

That was something that troubled him more than he was willing to admit. His control should have gotten better. He didn't think it had gotten worse, but it hadn't improved any since he'd been here. It was frustrating. A full month had passed, a month that he'd spent working and learning how to be the thing that Belladonna had made him. A month that had seen him cut off from the only things that mattered to him anymore, in which he'd missed seeing their smiles and hearing their voices. A month in which he'd missed the taste of them on his lips. Not just their blood, though he missed that, too. No, what he missed most was just that spark of humanity that he'd yet to taste on anyone else. They both shared it, as if they'd been formed as one whole and then split into halves, like the yin and yang symbol he'd seen so many people wearing as tattoos.

Of course he was kept up to date on how they were doing. He got reports from Jean Claude every night on their progress. But it wasn't the same. The last he'd seen them, they'd been curled up against one another, lost in the deep sleep that he'd worked so hard to give them. They'd needed it, their bodies and spirits worn down and pulled into tatters by the hell they'd been put through. The hell they were going to be put through. And he'd needed it. So that he wouldn't be forced to look upon the sorrow in their faces as he was taken from them. That wasn't the memory of them that he'd wanted to carry through the nights they were apart.

The soft looks upon their faces had been important. The ones that showed them at their most relaxed and unguarded. The ones that showed him the young girls he'd first met five years ago. Those were the looks he wanted to keep with him. Those were the looks that he wanted to remember every night upon his awakening and every night before he was lost to sleep or death or whatever it was that took him. It was those looks, the softness of their expressions and their bodies, that he'd needed so badly. He was starting to think that they weren't enough anymore.

That next night, when he'd woken and risen from his coffin, Jean Claude had been there. And it had started. The other vampire had told him that he would earn his keep by working in one of the man's businesses. Bartender was as good as the next job, as far as Remy was concerned. No need for his new master to know that he was thief who could survive on his wits, charm and good looks. Even the bitch had never known such things. The only thing he'd rejected before consideration was a place on the stage. He didn't think there was any way he could dance in front of these people. Even though it wasn't exactly the same, he'd seen what it had done to his girls. And they hadn't even had to take their clothes off. It simply wasn't going to happen.

His girls. He knew what they were doing. How they were doing. And there was a part of him that could feel them, even if only just. But that was all. Not knowing anything else was killing him.

"Earth to Remy!" The laughing voice pulled him from his darker thoughts. He gave his attention to the woman standing before him on the other side of the bar. She was one of the waitresses that delivered drinks to the tables. He'd thought it odd that women were serving the drinks at a club that catered to women's fantasies, but a few nights on the job showed that none of the patrons ever really noticed just who it was that brought them their drinks. When she saw that he was looking at her, she threw him a large smile. "You were lost in thought again, weren't you?"

He offered her a smile of his own and ignored her question. "What you need, cher?"

She pouted at him. There was a sense of mild defeat to her. He'd never yet answered that question and it frustrated her. The girl's name was Jasmine, and exotic name for a woman who should have obviously been on the stage instead of walking around the edges. She'd obviously had work done and it was being wasted in her current profession. When her pout didn't work, she huffed a sigh and got down to business. "Two rum and cokes, a Mai Tai, three Budweisers and one shot of tequila."

He started with the shot and worked his way through the order. Remy was conscious of her eyes following his every move, the weight of her presence pressing down around him. Jasmine had a crush on him. It was plain to see on her face every time she approached the bar and it was plain to feel in the emotions that poured off of her. She'd had a crush since the first day she'd laid eyes on him. And every day, she tried to convince him to go out with her. So far, he'd been lucky enough to keep her at a distance, but she hadn't given up and he didn't know how long he could hold her off. "What are you doing after work tonight?"

"Gon' go home and put my feet up," he replied lazily. It was a true as anything else he could tell her. Because he would do it eventually. He just didn't know when. He had no clue as to what time he'd be done with this and the "training" Jean Claude had insisted he receive.

"Want some company? Maybe we could have a beer together or something?" He glanced up at her, wondering if he should just tell her that he had someone waiting for her. She had yet to figure out he was a vampire. Most people didn't know. He'd have told her before, but he'd changed his mind on that after she'd told him how she'd taken this job because she really loved the vampires and it was her goal to hook up with one.

"Not tonight, cher. I'm not in de mood."

She brought the pout back. "You're never in the mood, Remy. Are you sure you aren't married?"

"I swear it."

"Then why don't you want to go out with me?"

He settled the three opened beers on her tray and gave her a dazzling smile. "Because you gon' find someone better dan dis old Cajun." She stared at him a moment longer, wanting nothing more than to argue with him. But her tray was full, the drinks waiting to be delivered to the people who had ordered them. Jasmine frowned at him before turning to stalk off. Sighing, he turned to wait on someone who had come up to the bar directly. One of these days, the girl was going to stop taking no for an answer. When that happened, he hoped that he'd have Jo and Gin there to serve as backup.

~*~

Remy paused before the door and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. In the entire month he'd been working at Guilty Pleasures, he'd never once been called back to Jean Claude's office. In fact, in the entire month that had passed since he'd blood oathed to the other vampire, he hadn't seen his new master once. The Cajun had a pretty good idea as to why that was, too. He'd thrown Jean Claude for a loop that night, kissing him as he had. Even if the other man hadn't shown it, Remy knew. He knew it as easily as he knew his own name.

He gave consideration to simply walking in. No doubt his boss and master knew he was standing outside the door. But that would be rude and he was trying to get in the man's good graces. Being rude was the worst way to manage such a thing. So he raised a fist and rapped a knuckle lightly against the wooden panel. There was no worry that Jean Claude wouldn't hear it. "Come in."

Remy grasped the knob and turned it, then pushed the door open. It swung on silent hinges, both away from the jamb and back. The latch caught with a soft click. He found himself submerged in a room that was all white and black. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the club but a perfect match for the man who sat behind the large black desk. His blue eyes followed Remy as he moved deeper into the room. One pale hand motioned elegantly for him to take a seat.

The leather of the pants Remy wore was slick against the leather of the chair. Standard club wear was leather and every pair of pants he owned was custom tailored to fit him like a second skin. Upper body wear was a toss up between a plain leather vest and a fish net shirt. Tonight was the fishnet, a bloody crimson stain of color against his chest. The fact that the man was dressing him based on his eyes didn't escape him at all. "Thank you for coming, Remy. There is much to discuss tonight."

"We both know dat I don' have a choice." He made it a simple statement of fact, nothing more and nothing less.

Jean Claude chose to ignore his words. "First, I would like to assure you that Ginette and Jocelyn are safe and well. They are starting to fit in with those around them." Remy lifted a brow at that statement. Even though he couldn't feel the lie, he knew it was there. After a moment, Jean Claude gave him a wry smile. "Very well, Ginette is starting to fit in. Jocelyn is still..."

"She still angry," Remy supplied.

To that, Jean Claude sighed and nodded his head. "She still will not allow any members of my kiss close. Only Asher may touch her and speak with her. It would seem that she forgets who and what he is."

Remy knew better. She wouldn't forget what the man was. The only reason Jo would let him come near her is that he wasn't the perfect looking thing that the other vampires were. He was flawed. Damaged. It was that to which she responded so deeply. It called to her like nothing else. Perhaps that was why she had been drawn to him all those years ago. He'd had his share of troubles back then. "She behaving herself?"

"As best as can be expected, I suppose." It was plain to see, even if the man didn't show it, that he was concerned about Jo's continued lack of acceptance. "She goes out of her way to avoid my people. But I believe she has befriended at least one of the mortals present at the party."

"Dat a good t'ing. She need a friend." He left off the rest of his statement. That Jo needed a friend who wasn't himself or Gin. No doubt the other man understood the implication anyway. "An' how Gin doin'?"

"She has settled in to her new place with more aplomb than Jocelyn has." It was a polite way of saying that she wasn't a troublemaker like her friend was. "I asked the leader of the Lycanthrope Coalition to find her a place among his volunteers. She does not seem as skittish when there are several other lycanthropes with her. She is not yet ready to take her place among the pard, but she is closer now than she was a month ago."

Remy watched as the man slid a drawer open and reached in. His hand came out with a thin stack of glossy prints. They were obviously photographs. When Jean Claude handed them across the desk, Remy took them quickly, afraid that if he was too slow they would be taken from him. The weight of Jean Claude's stare was heavy on him as he thumbed through the images.

The first was of Gin, sitting amidst a group of people and smiling. She was unaware of the photographer, her attention given to someone not in the picture. He noted that a few people in the picture with her were ones he'd met. Some of them worked at Guilty Pleasures and some of them only visited from time to time. The lavender eyed Nathaniel was only a few feet from her. If his proximity bothered her, it didn't show.

Another of Gin, laughing with Jason. And another, where the photographer had caught her in a moment of thought. He knew that look well, had seen it on her face many times. He had no doubts she was thinking of him. And of Jo. Perhaps she was thinking of when they'd last been together. Or maybe when it would next happen. The last image was of Gin, though not as he'd last seen her. This one had obviously been taken upon her first change. The lights had been dimmed, but not so much that he couldn't see the metal of the walls surrounding her. The image was taken from up high, no doubt a camera in a corner. And directly across from that corner, in the opposite corner, sat a very large leopard. Its coat was sleek and black, with grass green eyes that watched the camera. As if it knew that someone watched it through that tiny lens.

He wasn't sure how he should feel about seeing her locked in that room. He knew that it was for her protection and the protection of others. But it still bothered him to some extent. Jean Claude must have known exactly which picture he was looking at because he chose that moment to speak. "She was not hurt that night. Things could have gone much worse than they did. I have been assured that she should be able to join the pard in the forest in a short amount of time."

"Dat good." He hoped it was. He'd seen the fear in her eyes the last time she'd been around any of the leopards. It had been something large and consuming. Then again, he thought Gin was better at adapting than Jo. So perhaps it wouldn't be as difficult for her to grow accustomed to their new surroundings.

Jean Claude fell silent again as he shuffled to the next picture. This one was of Jo. As with Gin's pictures, it was taken when she wasn't aware that anyone was there with a camera. She was sitting with the girls that he remembered from their first night at the Circus. The four of them were sharing a laugh over something. It was the first time he'd seen her relaxed since they'd left New Orleans for home five years ago. Seeing it made him smile. Just a little.

The next picture of her had been taken inside what looked to be a tent. The walls were deep purple and there appeared to be silver moons and stars hanging from the roof. Thick pillows edged the tent, while a table with chairs sat dead center. The table was covered with a cloth that looked to be silk, perhaps scarf that cycled through the colors of the rainbow. He saw red and gold and orange and purple and blue and green. Symbols that he didn't recognize were in shining gold, stamped directly onto the surface of the scarf. Jo sat on one side of the table, a stranger on the other. He could see a series of cards laid out on the rainbow scarf. A closer look showed him that she held a tarot deck in one hand while the other was touching one of the cards.

A third picture was another one taken without her knowledge. It showed her wearing the strangest outfit he'd ever seen her in. She wore a long sleeved fishnet top in black with an emerald green lace and satin bra underneath. The skirt she wore was much shorter than anything he thought he'd seen her in, barely coming down in back to cover the curves of her ass. It was a black and green check pattern with pleats all the way around. Her hose were thigh highs, opaque with green satin bows on the top. Her feet were tucked into the tallest pair of boots he'd ever seen. It wasn't anything different than he'd seen her wear at The House of the Rising Sun, and yet... He'd never seen anything like it.

"She refuses to wear what I had Susan make for her. Garments fill her dresser and the armoire, yet she chooses these clothes over those that I have given her."

"Until she come to understand dat you don' hurt her, she not gon' wear dem." Remy knew her well enough to know that.

"I see." Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. But he said nothing more on the subject. That allowed Remy to flip to the next photo. What he saw there made his heart squeeze. Just a little. The last picture in the stack showed her sitting with Asher. As before, she was smiling. But this was a different smile. A softer smile. And she was staring at the blonde vampire as if he was the only solid thing she had to cling to in the world. Perhaps he was. She no longer had Gin or Remy.

Lifting his gaze from the photos, he gave his attention fully to Jean Claude. The man's face was blank. "You tryin' to take her from me? Dat what dis picture means?"

"Do you think she would leave you for Asher?" Jean Claude asked in return. The urge to destroy the photo poured through him. His fingers nearly twitched with it. But he kept himself from crumbling it up. Instead, he looked at it again and frowned. He hadn't seen her in a month. How could he know for sure that she wasn't going to leave him for another man?

Because she loved him. She'd come looking for him. They'd only spent a week together. And five years had passed between then and when she'd found him again. But she'd come looking for him. She and Gin together. They'd saved him. And they'd both put themselves in harm's way for him. Even though they'd known doing so would likely meant their own deaths. They'd done what they could to keep him alive. She might never have told him with words, but she'd told him with deeds that she loved him. She'd never leave him for someone else. Never.

"Non." Remy shook his head. "She don' leave me."

"She speaks of you often. And the only way to make her happy is to reunite the two of you. This is why I have decided to take over your training myself." Those bluer than blue eyes met his, waiting for him to say something. Or do something. Remy only nodded and let a hint of a smile pull his lips up at the corners. "Requiem and London report that you are a fast study. But there are things that you must know before I can allow you to reunite with Jocelyn. And Ginette."

"You sure dat a good idea?" Remy was sure that the other man had been avoiding him. He could clearly recall the night he'd been blood oathed. Jean Claude had been turned on by the kiss. Not that Remy thought the man was bisexual in every sense of the word. There was something about him that suggested he could and would do a man. But he obviously preferred women. Had it take him this long to come to terms with the kiss they'd shared?

"You have already attained master vampire powers. Powers that you should not have. It would be in my best interests to see you properly trained myself. And we will start with exactly how it was you saved Jocelyn's life."

That caught Remy's attention and saw him sitting up straighter in his chair. He'd been trying to figure out how he'd done that himself and there was no answer he could come up with that explained it. "Go on."

Jean Claude smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Tonight, Remy, you shall learn about vampire marks."

~*~

The desk was becoming a familiar thing. There wasn't much on it. A stack of papers filled with complaints. A telephone with multiple lines. Pens and pencils in a cup. A desk lamp. A calendar. A silver toned picture frame with a picture that was old. One of her with Remy and Jo, taken in the French Quarter. She knew that they both carried a copy of the same image with them. It was the only thing she had to remind her of them.

Something told her they were okay, but that wasn't the same as knowing. As seeing for herself. She knew that Remy rose every night with the setting of the sun, though there were times when he woke before the sun actually started its trip toward the horizon. But that was all. She didn't even have that much of Jo, though logic told her that her friend was fine. No doubt making someone's life hell with her attitude. Jean Claude would have told her if he'd killed Jo. Right?

Life wasn't as bad as she'd thought it would be. Certainly not as bad as Jo had been sure it would be. She spent most of her time working at the office of the Lycanthrope Coalition. It wasn't a paying job, but it saw her socializing with members from every group of lycanthropes in the area. It was headed up by Micah Callahan, the Nimir-Raj of the pard that she technically belonged. She'd yet to actually spend time with the pard. But she was working on it. Jason had assured her that he felt she'd be capable of spending the night of the full moon with the other leopards in the next couple of months.

Gin wasn't sure how she felt about that. In the month she'd spent away from, well, pretty much everyone, she'd come to realize that what she'd witnessed in the stone chambers under The House of the Rising Sun was a perversion. What Dmitri and Ivan had done to her, to Jo, to their prey, wasn't something that every leopard in the world did. Jason, who had been her guide into the world of lycanthropy, had assured her that not every shifter she came across would act like that. He'd even had videos to prove it to her. He'd also mentioned that she would find that perversion from time to time, but it would be in shifters who had been perverse as humans.

Knowing such a thing had made her feel a little better about herself. But it was still hard to spend time with the other leopards and not think about what she'd seen. Slowly, she'd been introduced to the other members of the pard. Each one had welcomed her warmly, with smiles and hugs and a few things she'd never seen people do before. Underneath their friendly attitudes, she'd felt their sorrow and pity. Someone had told them what had happened to her. She hadn't known whether or not to be upset by that or not. In the end, she'd realized that it wasn't important.

"We're heading to the Lunatic Cafe for some lunch, Gin. Want to come with us?" It was Nathaniel who asked the question. She'd known it was him before he'd gotten near her desk. And it had nothing to do with the vanilla smell of him, or with the scent of fur that lived under the vanilla. It had to do with the feel she got from him. He always felt of peace and serenity, as if he'd found his place in the world and was content with it. He was the first one she'd allowed to come near her. And that was only because of those soothing emotions that cloaked him.

Looking up, she found out that 'us' consisted of Nathaniel, Gregory, Stephen and Vivian. Though nearly all of them were leopards, Gin was comfortable enough with them to go to lunch with them. Her extra senses had been a big help in sifting through the things she'd learned from Belladonna's leopards and the things she was seeing with those in Micah's pard. She'd always trusted those other senses and saw no reason to change that now. Glancing over to the corner where Micah sat behind his desk, she realized that he wasn't going to stop her and nodded. "I'd like that."

She collected her belongings and rose to her feet, then followed the foursome out of the coalition's offices to the parking lot where the cars waited them. She rode with Nathaniel while the other three took a second car. He left the radio turned off as he started the engine and pulled out onto the street. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay," she shrugged. He glanced at her briefly, then returned his attention to the road.

"Just okay? Is something wrong?"

"I just... miss them. I know that this is necessary. I understand that. But I hate not knowing how they're doing."

Nathaniel offered her a smile even while he turned the corner. "I know. But you'll be able to see them soon. I've heard from Anita and Jason that Remy is making really good strides forward. Jean Claude is confident that he'll only need another month before you can see him again."

"He's smarter than he lets on." She watched the scenery go by for a while before turning to look at Nathaniel again. "And since you haven't volunteered anything more, I'm going to assume that Jo is being her typical stubborn self."

He made a noise, as if he was considering just what it was he was going to say. "Yes and no. She's found herself a job. Sort of. She has a tent inside of the Circus, out on the main floor. She reads tarot for people."

"Only because I'm sure when she suggested finding a job outside of the Circus, the idea was promptly axed." His chagrinned look told her all she needed to know on that front. Gin shook her head, unable to stop herself from smiling and chuckling at the news. "But she won't let the vampires near her, will she?"

"She lets Asher touch her. She spends most nights with him. I don't know what she did, but she convinced him to go to the mall. More than once." Gin was sure. No doubt Jo had gone off to the mall in order to make herself feel better about being separated from them both. And to stick it to their new master.

"She'll come around. Eventually." Gin didn't bother to add the words 'I hope' to that sentence. Not that she thought it mattered. Nathaniel likely knew she was thinking them.

He nodded and made another turn. She could see the moderately crowded lot in front of the Lunatic Cafe. "I've been told that you might actually get to join the pard in a couple months for your first full moon out of that room."

"That's what they tell me." Gin glanced at her hands, recalling the feel of the claws as they had sprung from her fingertips. She had no other real recollections of that night. But she remembered the claws. She'd been warned that fighting the change would make things much harder on her than they had to be, that she'd feel like she was being ripped apart as her body remade itself into the shape of her beast. She'd been afraid, but had held on to the images she'd seen of other people, members of the pard and the pack, changing for her so that she could see how smoothly it could be done. She'd held on to that, and on to images of Remy and Jo. They had seen her through when the panic had wanted to set in.

"You don't sound happy about that," Nathaniel observed as they pulled into a parking space in the lot.

"Its still really new to me and there's a lot for me to take in." She glanced up and stared sightlessly through the windshield into the distance. "And there's still that fear at the back of my mind. Fear that I'll be like them. And fear of what I saw Micah become. I'm afraid of that, Nathaniel."

"Micah won't hurt you anymore than Jean Claude would hurt Jo. There's a lot about him that you don't know. I'd love you explain it all to you, but it isn't my story to tell. One of these days, when you can trust him enough, ask him to tell you about Chimera. Then you'll understand."

The sound of a knuckle against the window saw Nathaniel pulling the key from the ignition. He turned to her and offered her a smile. "There isn't a better pard in the country, Gin. I promise. Anita wouldn't have it any other way." He motioned past her toward the diner. "Chances are good that Jason's inside. Let's go. No doubt he's got stories to tell that will make you laugh."

Nathaniel was, of course, correct. Jason waited for them inside. Caleb was with him. They'd already claimed a big table, a round one with chairs, instead of a booth that would only hold four. Gin found herself squeezed between Gregory and Caleb. She'd hoped that she'd be allowed to sit by Jason because he was comfortable and familiar, but he'd managed to plant himself between Nathaniel and Stephen. She realized, as she made an attempt to hold back the automatic rush of fear, that this had been planned as a way of helping ease her into being physically close to members of the pard.

Jason caught her staring at him and flashed her a smile that told her things would be okay, then went back to his menu. Chatter was light around the table as everyone decided what they wanted to have for lunch. Gin found herself lost in thought even when she was absently looking over the cafe's offered meals.

She knew they were fast and she knew that every one of them had more experience with their lycanthropic sides than she did. But she realized, sitting there with the wildness of their energy buzzing against her skin and the creases of her brain, that she had something over on them. She could feel what each and every one of them was feeling. That other sense that was hers and hers alone would tell her if and when anyone got irate with her. It had never been wrong. Not ever. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to put it to the test.

With that thought in mind, she slowly relaxed her tense muscles so that she could enjoy her lunch out. Jason was busy telling the table about something that happened at one of the clubs. That thing that made him uniquely Jason made the tale that much more amusing and Gin found herself laughing at the conclusion of his story. The sound of her laughter mingling with everyone else's brought a few looks her way. Jason tossed her a smile and a wink, while Nathaniel simply smiled. But she could see in his eyes that he liked the progress she was making.

"How do you like St. Louis, Gin?" Gregory was the one who asked it. She knew little about the man other than the fact that he was Stephen's twin and a stripper in one of Jean Claude's clubs. She also knew that he was a leopard while his brother was a wolf. She wondered briefly at the odds of such a thing happening while she formulated an answer.

"I'm still getting used to it. I don't get to see much of it, really." And she didn't. Most of her time was spent at the coalition's offices or holed up in the room she'd been given at the Circus. What she'd seen of St. Louis had been out of car windows.

"That will change once you've got a better handle on your beast." This came from Caleb.

"I hope so." She didn't dare tell them that it was starting to feel like her time in New Orleans all over again. Though, to be fair, if she needed to go to the store for something, she did get to go. Belladonna hadn't allowed her to leave the club or the underground rooms at all.

"You will. Things won't stay like this forever," Stephen assured her. "Jean Claude is pretty fair about everything. He isn't needlessly cruel."

The jury was still out on that one.

"Remy's pretty popular," Nathaniel told her. Like it was necessary. Gin knew all about the man's charms. Probably better than anyone else. People had seemed to flock to him in New Orleans, no matter who they were. Why should that be any different here? "The nights he's at Guilty Pleasures tending bar, the attendance is always way up. I think the customers are hoping that he'll get up on stage and take his clothes off for them."

She smirked at that. "More like he'd coax them to take their panties off for him."

"You sound so sure of that," Vivian commented.

"Remy likes to see other people naked and he can charm a nun out of her habit, even while she's taking him to task for allowing his faith to lapse." Gin shook her head. "I doubt he'd dance, even if he wanted to. That isn't his style."

He'd come to hate dancing like that after watching her and Jo lure people to their deaths.

"He'd make a lot of money as a dancer." Gregory again.

She smiled and shook her head. "I don't think he needs it, honestly." He'd seemingly had an endless supply of money that week he'd spent with them. Damn it, she missed him. Thankfully, before anyone could say anything more about him, the waitress who'd taken their orders earlier arrived at their table carrying a tray that was heavily laden with plates of food. A second waitress was behind her with the rest of their order.

The plates were passed around, the succulent smell of freshly fried potatoes and grilled steak making her mouth water. That was one thing that she hadn't gotten used to yet. The way she could and did eat. As if food was going out of style and she might not get a chance to have any ever again. Every meal was a small feast of taste and smell and sight.

Talk died slightly as they began their meal. Her keen nose was busy picking out the different smells wafting off each plate at the table, as well as those at the tables around them. Someone had fried chicken and mashed potatoes covered with gravy. Another plate held fish and steak fries. Ribs dripping with barbeque sauce. Steamed vegetables. Slices of pie and cobbler. Cookies. So many different aromas for her nose to soak up. And the taste of her steak as she forked the first bite into her mouth. The juices ran down her throat while the spice used on the outside of the meat tingled on her tongue. She'd never before eaten food that just... She had no words for it. Each bite was a taste sensation that left her stomach rumbling for more.

When they'd all cleared their plates, a round of desserts was ordered. Cake and pie and ice cream. It was like the best sex in the world, only in an edible form. She'd picked chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. It was like an orgasm in her mouth. She had to stop herself from lifting the plate off the table so that she could lick it clean with her tongue. A look around the table showed her that everyone was watching her with varying looks of amusement on their faces. She tried not to blush.

This was something that was still new to her. The way tastes exploded in her mouth, the way they coated her tongue and left her hungry for more. She hadn't yet gotten used to it. Every night was like the first, with the flavors of her food going off like a nuclear bomb on her tongue and leaving her in shock that something she'd never thought to be so amazing had suddenly become just that. "You get used to that," Jason finally told her. "Everything is still new. But you'll get used to it and it'll go back to being normal food."

"There is absolutely nothing normal about a slice of chocolate cake giving a person an orgasm," she replied evenly.

She watched Jason's nostrils flare, then he grinned at her. "I think you might be exaggerating just a bit. But I have to admit, they do make a damned fine cake here." Knowing looks and laughter sprang up around the table. "Maybe another piece will do it for you?"

"Maybe. But the next piece I'll eat will be without an audience. There are just some things one should do in the privacy of their own bedroom." She shot him a look that said he'd never know. It prompted the entire table to burst out in laughter.

The kind of laughter that warmed her to the bone and let her know that she was home.

~*~*~*~*~

The interior of the restaurant was nearly empty, the hour at that in between time when the lunch rush had passed and the dinner rush had yet to begin. The server showed Jo and Amanda to a corner booth where they were virtually alone. After seating them and handing over menus, she took their drink order. Then she promised to return with their drinks and take their food orders. When Jo and Amanda were alone, the two women stared at one another in companionable silence.

In the month that she'd been in St. Louis, Jo had developed a bond with the three women she'd met that first night. It wasn't the same bond she had with either Remy or Gin, but it was something strong and real. At least she hoped it was real. Lasting. She hadn't really ever had a lot of friends growing up. Most people had thought her too weird and out there. It had really surprised her that Amanda, Kimberly and Susan had made an effort. As if there was nothing any stranger about her than any of them. Maybe, in the end, there really wasn't.

They'd started their day out shopping, heading out to little boutiques and out of the way shops instead of going to the mall. Susan had very firmly frowned on the idea of Jo expanding her wardrobe by making another pilgrimage to Hot Topic. She'd laughingly told the rebellious woman that she would find her other clothes to wear that were stylish and still had that boycott vibe to them. Jo had been surprised that Susan didn't hold it against her that she refused to wear the clothing that the woman had made for her. Susan had told her that she understood, her face a mask of just that feeling, and that she knew Jo would wear the clothes she'd created for her when she was comfortable with them, her new home and herself.

Jo had to admit that Susan knew her clothes. While the things that she'd picked up for herself were still the kinds of things that she knew made Jean Claude roll his eyes at her, Susan had found items that suited her body and accentuated her curves. Jo figured she was the best dressed goth or emo or whatever the hell it was in St. Louis.

Kimberly had come with, too, and she'd proven the voice of reason when the girls had gotten a little out of line. Not in a bad way, though. Like the time they'd been in the shoe store and Amanda had tried to convince Jo to ask for his number. The back and forth between the two of them would have embarrassed a prostitute with ten years under her belt. Kimberly had finally stepped in and told them both to calm down or she'd take the hose to them. Which had prompted an entirely new conversation that had left all of them more than just a little aroused.

Both Susan and Kimberly had eventually left, saying that they had things to do. Susan had just received a new client and had to meet them before the end of the business day, but she'd promised to catch up with them all the next time. Kimberly's excuse had been that she was needed at the Circus to make ready for the coming night's flood of customers. The Circus was always busy, no matter what night it was. Jo wasn't scheduled to start her tarot reading thing until well after dark and she knew Amanda wasn't needed until even later than that. So they weren't required to get back just yet.

Which had led them to this nearly empty restaurant in the late afternoon for a quick meal, some peace and quiet, before the craziness of the night began.

The waitress returned with their drinks, Diet Coke for Amanda and Coke for Jo. The two of them placed their orders, burger and fries for Jo and a grilled chicken salad for Amanda and a sample appetizer for the both of them, then watched the waitress wander off. Jo was debating what kind of tip to leave the woman. Given the lack of customers and her pleasant attention, she was on her way to making a good one.

"How's the tarot reading going?" Amanda asked her.

"Its been steady. You'd be surprised at how many people come in and want you to tell them everything that will ever happen. I keep trying to tell them that it doesn't work that way, that the cards will only point to certain events, but most people don't listen." Jo shrugged and twirled the ice around in her glass with her straw. "They pay well, though. Last night I managed to pull in a couple hundred dollars."

"That's good." Amanda smiled at her. "I got a chance to peek at your tent last night and there was a huge line. I don't know what you do, but people want you to read their cards for them."

"I don't really do anything, though. The cards do all the work. Me... I just tell people what the cards say." Jo paused and glanced at Amanda. "It helps that I can kind of feel what they're looking for."

That caught the other woman's attention. "What do you mean, you can feel what they're looking for? You're... what? Some kind of empath?"

"No. Not an empath. Just sensitive." She fell silent as the waitress approached and settled a platter of fried goodies before them. Jo reached for a cheese stick, dipped it in marinara, then nibbled at it. "Gin's the empath. She's better at emotions than I am. But I still feel things. Emotions. Energies. Power and magic."

There was a bitterness at the end of her sentence that had Amanda studying her intently for a few moments. "That's why Belladonna kept you and Gin?" Jo nodded. There was no reason to go any further into the topic. Jo had long ago told Amanda, and the others, what had happened to them in New Orleans. Susan had hissed out a comment about killing Belladonna and Darious, while Kimberly had looked horrified that someone could do such a thing. And Amanda... She'd just looked as if she understood.

Back then, Jo had felt some emotion on Amanda that she hadn't really looked into. It had felt raw and very personal. She'd never asked the other woman about it, figuring that Amanda would tell her if she wanted her to know. Sensing that same emotion on her again, Jo was tempted to ask her what it was for. Amanda didn't give her a chance. "What do you sense when you're around me?"

"Usually, you're very..." Jo trailed off as she thought of the right word. Happy didn't seem it. Content wasn't the one, either. "You usually exude an air of acceptance." Yes. That was it. Amanda accepted who and what she was. Where she was. "And there's a sense of real pleasure and happiness when you talk about or are around Wicked. But sometimes, like now, there's this small kernel of deep sorrow. Raw pain. You hide it well, but its still there."

She left it at that. Jo wasn't going to push or pry. There were things that had happened in New Orleans that she hadn't told anyone about. And she was sure that the others knew it. But they'd been kind enough not to ask. Maybe they'd realized that there were some things that she simply didn't want to talk about. Maybe they'd figured that Jo would tell them when she was ready.

"Better than a mood ring," Amanda smiled at her.

Jo would have made a smart assed come back to that, but the sound of tittering, girlish laughter pulled her head toward the entrance of the restaurant. She vaguely noted that Amanda did the same thing. Together, the two of them watched as the girls waited for the server to come over and escort them to a table. She prayed the woman would seat them on the other side of the restaurant.

They were just girls. Neither of them looked to be over eighteen. One had dirty blonde hair and enough make up to make Tammy Faye Bakker look sexy. She was clad in a tight vinyl dress that did nothing to enhance her skinny frame and a pair of boots that she should have broken her neck wearing. The girl with her had a thick mane of unruly brown hair that was so dark it was almost black. She wore cat's eye glasses and had dressed herself in one of those Lolita dresses that were popular with the Japanese girls. It was black with a white collar and a soft, pastel pink sash at the waist. Both looked as if they'd slept in their clothes the night before.

"Did you see how gorgeous he was? Oh. My. God! All that hair? He's like a god or something. He can bite me anytime," the blonde said, a sigh in her voice and a dreamy look on her face. One hand lifted and touched her neck reverently. Great. A vampire junkie. Just what Jo didn't want to put up with right now. This was her time away from the monsters. She didn't need any reminders.

"He's taken, you know. He's supposed to be dating Anita Blake," the other girl said. There was sorrow in her voice, suggesting she was terribly upset by this knowledge. Just perfect. They were talking about the one vampire in the world she didn't want to think about. "But you're right. He's a god. I'd let him have all the blood he wanted. Did you see the way he looked at you? Like you were the only one in the whole club?"

"I was so sure he was going to kiss me." There was disappointment in the blonde's voice. And before she could say anything else, the waitress showed up and escorted them to a table as far from Amanda and Jo as they could be. Thank the gods for small favors.

"That's just... sick. They're sick. They shouldn't want that," Jo said as she reached for a chicken strip. Amanda leveled a look on her.

"Yeah. And they'd be doing the exact same thing if they'd run into anyone famous at that club. Human, vamp or otherwise." Jo saved the comment she was going to make for when the waitress, who was coming toward them with their meals, left them alone again. The woman delivered their meals with a smile and said she'd fetch them refills, then hurried off to get drinks for the twittering twits.

Jo snagged a fry and used it to point toward the other side of the restaurant. "Those girls are blind and stupid if they think that vampires are anything other than monsters."

"So Remy's a monster?" Amanda asked lightly. Jo shot her a look that would have dropped the woman to the floor if it had been anything other than a look.

"You know he isn't."

"Then you're as blind as they are if you think that becoming undead makes a person anything they weren't to begin with." She said it with quiet conviction. Jo just stared at her, unable to believe that the woman could think like that.

"You've been fucking the dead for too long if that's what you really believe." Jo set her burger down and leaned back in her seat. She crossed her arms over her chest, flashes of Darious' face strobing across her brain. "They're nothing but cold blooded, brutal killers who get their kicks from terrorizing people. You don't know dick about them."

Amanda glared at her. "And you know so much about them. You're such an expert. You've seen one kiss in the whole world and you think they set the gold standard. You're a fucking idiot!"

"What would you know about it? I spent a month of my life, luring people to their deaths. Night after night, I had to go out on the dance floor of that bitch's club and dance. I had to pick people for them to feed off of and use up. I watched them kill those people as if they were little more than animals. I hate them. All of them. The only one who tried to help me was Remy. He was the only one who gave a shit about what that did to me." Jo was starting to wish that she had an alcoholic beverage to enjoy because the shit was going to get deep. Fast.

"Fine. You want to play poor pitiful me Olympics?" Amanda scowled at her. That feeling Jo had gotten earlier, the one that felt raw, was back with a vengeance. She made sure to glance around before pulling on the arm hole of her sleeve. The move exposed a gnarled scar that looked like it had been caused by an animal chewing on her flesh. "Vampires killed my family, my friends... Everyone I ever cared about, then spent over a week using me as their sexual chew toy and snack bar until the person they were really after came for me. Then they killed him in front of me and left me in a cell with his body. I spent a year of my life running and hiding from that kiss. So don't tell me I don't know what the hell I'm talking about, princess."

Jo stared at the other woman. She'd had no idea. None at all. She didn't know if she should be embarrassed by her behavior or if she should try and justify herself. For the longest time, all she could do was simply watch the other woman. Amanda wasn't done, though. "There are more scars, but I can't show you those. They'd kick us out of here if I did."

The waitress arrived then with their refills. If she noticed the tension between the two of them, she said nothing. She merely smiled and asked if there was anything else they'd need. Both women assured her they were fine. She left the table, taking the empty glasses with her. Amanda pounced once more. "What's the matter, princess? Nothing to say to that?"

Amanda radiated pain and hatred, sorrow and fear. Guilt. But Jo had never seen signs of those things on her before. Certainly not when she was with Wicked. She swallowed hard and shoved her plate away. Suddenly, food was the last thing she wanted or needed. Chances were good that she'd only throw it all back up if she did eat any more. Images of what Amanda must have endured played themselves over and over in her head, left her feeling sick to her stomach.

When Jo said nothing, Amanda went on. Her voice was softer, less harsh. But there was still disappointment and weariness in it. "If you want to spend the rest of your life being afraid and closed off and bitchy, fine. There's nothing I can do about it. And I'm in no position to tell you to do otherwise. But judging the people here, people who took you in when they really didn't have to, for things that those like them in only the most superficial manner did to you is bullshit. Quit using it as a shield and an excuse."

"I'm not using it as a shield," Jo insisted even though she knew that she was. She just... couldn't let them in. She didn't know how. The whole thing terrified her like nothing else did or could.

"That's such a crock of shit and we both know it." Amanda leveled a look on her and, even though she was merely human, there was no way Jo could break the stare. "How many people here have you even tried to get to know? Have you really even made an effort? Oh, sure. You associate with Kimberly and Susan and myself. But that's because we're human and you see us every day. You hate the fact that all three of us have no problems with the vampires. You've set yourself so far apart from everyone else that you're like an island unto yourself. You keep everyone at arm's length long enough and pretty soon, you won't have to do it anymore because no one will want to have anything to do with you."

"I don't know how to be any other way," Jo admitted. And she didn't. She'd always been the odd man out and she always would be.

"You've got to let someone in." Amanda began. She speared a forkful of salad and brought it to her mouth. Her look stopped the words before Jo could even get them out. "Someone other than Gin and Remy. There has to be someone else in your world than just the two of them. No matter how much you love them, they can't be the only ones there. They aren't enough."

"I'm not so good at all the emotional crap. I'm good at anger and holding a grudge."

"Surprise, surprise," the redhead murmured mostly to herself. Then she looked up at Jo with curiosity. "What about Asher? How come you can be around him when you can't even stand to be in the same room as any of the other vampires? I've seen how you are with him. You're almost relaxed and at peace."

"He's different." She frowned and tried to put it into words. "There's this sense to him. Like he's lost. Like he doesn't fit in with everyone else. I see myself when I look at him."

"So that's a start," Amanda told her, then sighed and shook her head. She set her fork down carefully and gave Jo a faint smile. "I swear to you that I'm not trying to be a bitch about all this. I know that whatever happened to you in New Orleans, it was painful and tragic. It left you scarred. Careless violence like that usually does. But you have to remember that you aren't the only person in the world to have had such horrible experiences. And for every bad vampire you meet, there are ten that aren't like that."

Jo said nothing, simply mulled that bit of news over in her head. There had to be some truth to her words. She'd never seen any sign of anything horrific taking place in St. Louis. The humans, herself excluded, seemed to come and go as they pleased. Amanda reached out across the table and put her hand on Jo's. "Jean Claude won't hurt you. He's sworn to protect you. And Gin and Remy. All you're doing by pushing him away is hurting what would probably be a good friendship. He's really a good guy."

"I'll take that into consideration. But I'm not making promises." She couldn't. Not yet. Not when she woke up every day so disoriented and afraid that it wasn't even funny. She always forgot where she was and, worse, she always worried for just a moment or two that something had happened to Remy and Gin. That the bitch had found them and killed them both and she'd never see them again. It always took a few minutes to get over the rise of hysteria, to realize that she was no longer in New Orleans and that Remy was safe. That Gin was safe. Just taken from her.

That was all Jean Claude's fault and she wasn't ready to forgive him for taking her family away from her. He needed to give them back before she could consider giving him back.

Amanda smiled. "That's all I can ask you to do. You might want to consider eating. You're going to need your energy for the crowds tonight."

Jo nodded and picked up her burger. After taking a bite, she thought about everything Amanda had said. "You mentioned that the vampires took someone from you. Someone you loved?" She'd left it alone before, the emotions that had pointed to this. Jo had known that there was something buried under Amanda's normally cheerful exterior. But now that the other woman had mentioned it, Jo found herself curious. Friends were supposed to tell each other all about themselves, weren't they? If Amanda was willing to talk about it, she was willing to listen. Maybe one day, Jo would tell her about her brother and Todd the asshole.

The redhead nodded slowly. "He was my first love. I kind of had this hero worship thing going on with him. He was older, of course, but he treated me with respect and he really loved me."

"You miss him." It was a statement, unnecessary. But Jo made it anyway. Amanda nodded again. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Don't be sorry. I don't regret knowing him. I only regret that he died to save me. It wasn't supposed to happen that way. They were supposed to let me go if he gave himself up. But they lied. They killed him. And they were going to keep me. As a toy."

Jo searched for something to say. Anything. Only one thing came to her. "At least you got out of there alive." She cringed. It was totally lame and sucked big ones. But she didn't know what else to say. "I'm sorry. Forget that I said that."

"There are times when I wish I hadn't, you know." The admission was made so softly that Jo barely heard her. But the guilt was so strong that it was like a beacon. Jo nodded and remained silent, hoping that maybe the other woman would go on and tell her about it. "They took everything from me. Mama and Papa. Our friends. The people who worked at the circus with us. Him. They took it all away. I'm the only one left that I know of. I was told that the circus was destroyed the night they took me, that they didn't leave any survivors. But I've always hoped that someone escaped the carnage."

"Maybe someone did. Surely someone there could have defended themselves." Yeah. That sounded lame, too. Jo told herself she should just shut up. But she couldn't seem to stop the train wreck from happening. Her mouth never had been good about keeping her thoughts to herself.

"If it would have been anyone, it would have been Papa. He was the knife thrower. Mama was his assistant. He threw blades at her every night to excited children and bored parents." Amanda smiled with the memory. Then she focused on Jo again. There was melancholy in her gaze. "I'd kill for what you have, you know. To have someone there who knew what it had been like before. Before the world turned upside down on me. You're lucky to have Gin and Remy. You really are."

"Gin's been there for me for... Well, forever. She helped me through the worst parts of my life and I did the same for her. Remy was..." Jo smiled fondly as she recalled the first time she'd ever laid eyes on him. Sitting at the bar in The House of the Rising Sun, drinking from his glass lazily. He hadn't even seen them yet. But she'd seen him. And she'd brought him to Gin's attention. The two had tried to tag team him. Had that ever worked. "We got lucky with him. We were in New Orleans for a trip after our high school graduation. We just kind of found him and, after a night of twisting the sheets, we ended up spending the rest of our week there with him. We went everywhere together right up until we had to leave."

"And you went back for him?"

"Five years later. And so much had changed." The bad memories hovered close so Jo shoved them aside and turned her attention to the other woman's story. "What about you? Didn't you have anyone else to go to? No brothers or sisters? No aunts or uncles or grandparents?"

"No. My family had been involved with the circus for a long time. None of them ever planted roots. Nomads, every last one of them." Amanda smiled at that.

"Gypsies," Jo grinned.

"Yeah. Gypsies." The other woman took a drink of her Diet Coke. "I was an only child, so there were no siblings to go to when everything happened. Since there'd been no boys, Papa was teaching me everything he knew. I started out as an assistant. When I got old enough, he taught me to eat fire. We were working on the knife throwing next. I'd managed to pick up a lot before it happened. But there was a lot he didn't teach me. And now I'm the last one of my family. The knowledge has been lost."

Jo shook her head. "No it hasn't. Not yet. You're still here. You can teach it to someone else."

"Who would I teach these things to? No one wants to be a circus freak anymore. We're a dying breed."

"Teach me." The suggestion saw Amanda gaping at her. "I need to do something here other than the tarot. There's only so much you can get off the cards. Not everyone allows the cards to fully read them. People who are resistant to such things never get true readings. And some people are far too open so things get all mucked up."

"You enjoy reading the cards, don't you?"

"Well, sure. But I can't do it forever. I need to have a skill to fall back on."

"You mean beyond giving blow jobs for egg McMuffins?" Amanda asked her. Jo grinned at that one.

"Yes. Beyond that. My mother never let me forget that good girls didn't do such things. I finally had to tell her that I wasn't a good girl." She waved her hand to brush the topic aside. "Look. I've been a waitress and a tarot reader. I've done lots of shit jobs. Teaching me what you know about circus life will help us both. It'll keep your family alive and it'll keep my ass out of trouble."

"Well, that's true." This time, Amanda grinned with her.

"What kind of costumes does a knife thrower get to wear? Can I wear all of my black stuff? A goth knife thrower? Would your dad be turning in his grave at that?"

That question saw Amanda laughing out loud. Jo smiled at her and took a drink of her Coke. When the redhead stopped laughing, she shook her head. "My dad would no doubt be proud to have an adopted daughter learning the family secrets. He might think the fishnet top and emerald bra are a little much, though. We'll find you something that fits your personality but maybe hides the girls a little bit."

"Well, what fun is there in that?" Jo countered.

"The first rule of knife throwing is that you want the audience to watch you and admire your skills. Not the girls."

"Bugger," Jo sighed. "But I suppose you're right. Must make myself look presentable. And professional. Besides, I'm so pale that people would go blind the moment the spot hit me."

"That would totally ruin the moment."

"Yeah. And we all now that ruining the moment is my job." That made both women laugh again. And just like that, things were fine again.

The tension that had sprung to life between them before was gone. In its place was a fragile new friendship, one that Jo hoped she could nurture and grow until it blossomed into something big and tall and strong. She had a lot to think on, too. Amanda had given her a few notions to chew over. Not that she hadn't already been aware that the people here were different from those she'd known in New Orleans. But there were roles to be played and she couldn't simply give up all of that rage and hatred right away. She needed it to survive. She needed it to fulfill a promise she'd made to herself.

Amanda looked up at her. "Where do you want to start? I can teach you to eat fire or throw knives. There are some other things, but I'm still working on teaching them to myself."

"How about we start with throwing knives? That sounds like something right up my alley," Jo suggested lightly. Amanda regarded her for a few seconds, then nodded.

"We can do that. How about we start tomorrow? I'll have you throwing knives like a pro in no time."

"Awesome." Jo smiled at her. That would be absolutely perfect.