The House of the Rising Sun

[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: the shit is getting ready to hit the fan, folks.

The House of the Rising Sun: The Index


The club was once more a riot of sound and emotion, bodies moving sinuously back and forth against one another. The smell of lust hung heavy in the air, along with acrid, stale smoke and old alcohol. The tables were packed with people young and old. In all manner of dress. Men and women rubbed against one another. Girls kissed girls and men fondled other men. Sex was thick all around her, crept into her pores and made her wish for... something.

Trying not to frown, knowing she was being watched, Jo reached for her drink and damn near sucked the whole thing down in one go. She hated this part. Hated what she and Gin had become. Hated what they'd been made into in order to survive. Worst of all, she hated that he had to see them like this. Nothing he said made her feel better. It didn't matter that he knew they were just trying to stay alive, that the Master would drain them dry if they made the slightest mistake. There was something pathetic about whoring herself out to survive. There was something terribly sad about his quiet acceptance of it.

"We need to get out on the floor. Before Darious comes for us," Gin whispered as she took the glass from Jo's hand.

"Let him come. I'll find a way to enlarge the scar on his neck," Jo muttered. Then she sighed and her shoulders sagged in resignation. "I know. You don't have to say it. We're doing this to keep her from hurting him."

Gin nodded and wrapped her arm around her friend. "You were the one who told me Remy was all that mattered. Has that changed?"

"No. It hasn't," Jo shook her head and turned to look at Gin. There was resignation in her eyes. "But I can't do this anymore. I hate what they've done to you. What they've done to him. I want that bitch dead."

"What about what they've done to you?" Gin asked, lifting a hand to push a few strands of Jo's hair back. The same concern that Jo felt was reflected on Gin's face.

"I was fucked up before this. You know that," Jo managed a half-smile. Gin slapped her shoulder playfully.

"Come on. Let's go dance. Things will get better." Gin took her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor. They always managed to find someone there that would make the Master happy. And it wouldn't be hard to attract attention tonight. They'd gotten new orders. They were more successful as a team, so they were supposed to offer a threesome, or moresome, to anyone interested. The Master had ordered clothing for them to ensure it happened.

Tonight, Gin had gone for a corset in scarlet silk. It was edged with shiny black pvc and had been laced so tightly that Jo worried the woman's breasts were going to fall out of the top. Paired with it was a skirt in black leather that was soft and supple. It clung to her hips and ass, rested just against the top edge of her fishnet thigh high stockings. The boots she wore were of more black leather, laced onto her calves and sporting a decent heel. The collar she wore was for more than decoration.

Jo had gone for less dominant and more slutty. The leather pants she'd picked were so tight, they felt like a second skin. Deep maroon laces raced up the outside of the legs, exposing pale strips of flesh. Anyone who cared to look would see that she was without underwear. Instead of a corset, she'd gone for a stretch fishnet shirt in the same shade as the laces on her pants. Beneath that was a black lacy bra. Black heels were fitted to her feet, a pair of fuck me pumps that made her intentions for the night perfectly clear.

Music pulsed around them, vibrated beneath their feet. Something with a heavy, throbbing rhythm that mimicked the blood pounding in her veins. The clusters of patrons parted for them until they were in the middle of the dance floor and a small circle formed around them. It had quickly become a routine that the regulars knew and waited for. Once in the middle of the dancers, Jo pressed up against Gin's back and they began moving.

Whoever was manning the music tonight must have seen them. The music switched almost at the same moment Jo put her hands on Gin's hips and began guiding their motions. The song was dark and gothic. The bass pulsed like a heartbeat, the drums rolling behind it as a heavy counterpoint. The sound of the rhythm section reminded Jo of days when the storms came, when thunder boomed overhead and rain pattered down against the roof. A low, rumbling sound that crept deep inside and directed, for a time, the flow of a person's blood in their veins. The guitar was subdued, allowing more of the song's pulse to bleed through into the vocal track. The singer's voice was low and heavy, almost a sexual caress as it whispered and promised and enticed.

As if they were reading one another's minds, their hips swung and rocked in perfect unison. Jo's hands slid from Gin's hips to trail across the front of her belly. She made a point of letting her fingers meet and point down. It was a move that was meant to draw the attention to that part of her hidden behind her skirt. She could feel the anticipation that ate through the crowd, male and female alike. They wanted to see her hands dive lower. Smiling over Gin's shoulder at the couple watching them, she slowly drew her hands up. They glided over Gin's ribs until they cupped her breasts. She felt Gin moan softly and her hips pushed back.

The crowd drew a breath, wanted more.

Gin's hands found her hips and clutched at them for a moment before they slid back and cupped her ass through the leather pants. Eyes locked on the young couple who'd been watching avidly. They were eager, hungry for a chance to join the party. Not yet. It was too soon. She wanted Gin to herself for just a little longer. Just a little longer before the sanity returned.

Bodies pressed against one another, swaying from side to side and shifting back and forth, they began the careful dance of touching. Teasing. Jo let her hands play at the edges of Gin's corset, her fingers dipping beneath the garment to graze the other woman's nipples. Her mouth dropped a kiss to the bare shoulder in front of her, then she traced a pattern over Gin's pale skin with her tongue. A trail of kisses rose up the side of her friend's neck until Gin turned to her and their lips met in a heated clash of mouth and tongue. Through it all, they never stopped moving, sinewy motions that hinted at naked flesh sliding across silk sheets and more naked flesh, of bodies riding one another to completion.

The music changed and the two of them flowed into the new rhythm without missing a beat. They pressed even tighter to one another until Jo's breasts were crushed against Gin's back, her hands cupped almost possessively over her friends chest. Their hips were cradled against one another as if they were two pieces of a puzzle fit together perfectly. Each time she shifted, Gin followed as if they'd done this hundreds, thousands of time. As if they were able to read one another's thoughts. As if there was nothing more in the world than the way they fit together. When Jo got to the point where she realized that she wanted to strip Gin and take her to the floor, she knew it was time.

Rolling her eyes up from Gin's mouth, she turned her gaze to the young couple. They were staring almost hungrily. She lifted a hand away from Gin and crooked a finger at them. It was all the invitation they needed. The man and woman surrounded them and Gin's mouth was pulled from hers. He was eager, his eyes shining with drink and perhaps something illegal. His hair had been dyed a flat black that looked dull under the lights. He wore a handsome face and a pair of black vinyl pants.

He kissed Gin first, then kissed Jo. It was a good kiss. Filled with promise. Too bad they wouldn't get to collect on it. He was cute.

For a moment, it looked like he was going to pull Gin from her embrace. But he molded himself to her front and slid his arms around them both until his hands were cupped over Jo's ass. Then his girlfriend pressed close, making a sandwich of the two of them. All four bodies moved in perfect unison and the crowd around them closed in. Jo found herself bathed in heat and desire as the patrons followed their lead. Bodies rubbed bodies and hands stroked where they could while mouths captured and feasted on other mouths until the reason she was caught between the couple was lost in the maddening need to lose herself in the depth of the passion around her.

But their cue to take it off the floor came in the form of a second change in music. Something faster, less lusty. The group broke apart and Jo turned to the girl behind her. So young. So trusting. So dead. "Want to play some more in private?" she asked, trying to keep the fear and panic out of her voice.

The girl drew her close and claimed her lips in a kiss that Jo could neither break out of or stop. She melted into it, knowing that it was wrong. She didn't need that last kiss as her final memory of the girl. But she couldn't help it. The man pulled them apart and dragged Jo into his arms while the woman pulled Gin into her embrace. The kisses were fierce and hungry. Demanding and promising.

"Let's go find a room," Gin whispered, her voice husky and low.

"Lead on, ladies," the man said before he wrapped an arm around their shoulders so that they were on either side of him. The woman closed in behind him and let her hands play across their asses. The teasing touches continued until the moment they entered one of the empty rooms.

~*~*~*~*~

They were whispering again, talking as if they thought he couldn't hear them. He wasn't trying to listen in. And their voices were so low, almost impossible to separate from the noise provided by the rest of the kiss, the screaming of the poor victims and the loud throb of music piped in from the club. They were huddled in a corner, curled around one another as if they were tangled linens upon a bed. Or as if they were trying to guard one another.

Earlier that evening, when the sun had set and he'd risen, he'd found them in the small bathroom adjoined to the room the Master had so graciously given him. Neither of them had spoken, but he'd smelled the fear and the anger long before he'd seen them. Neither had heard him approach, so he'd been allowed a few minutes to study them. Backs to him, Gin had been standing over Jo with a small stick of something skin colored in her hand. Jo had been seated on the toilet, naked, with her hair pulled over her shoulder. He'd caught just a glimpse of discoloration on the woman's back, near her hip, before Gin had smeared make-up over it. He'd heard, though, the sharp intake of breath and the softly muttered curse at the touch.

"You need to stop fighting," Gin had said. That was all. It wasn't enough, yet it was more than he'd needed. He was fairly certain he knew what was going on while he slept the day away. Even though they tried to hide it from him, he always caught faint whiffs of the Master's leopards on their clothes or hanging in the air of the room. He wasn't so blind that he couldn't see what was going on.

Mon Dieu. What had he gotten them into? Why hadn't they forgotten him and lived their lives? Found someone else. The Master was slowly, so slowly, destroying everything they'd been. He was losing them and he couldn't stand to watch it. He shoved away from the wall he'd been leaning against to cross toward them. He was six feet away when they both lifted their heads to look at him. He could see that both had been hiding their faces, hiding the tears that still sparkled in their eyes. Each time the Master sent them out, it got harder and harder for them to let it go.

They parted without being told, allowed him to sit between them on the couch. When his arms wrapped around them, they closed in on his sides and allowed him to pull them tight against him. Jo was on his left, Gin on his right. It allowed him to casually settle his hand low on Jo's hip. She tensed against him, her muscles going tight. She didn't make a sound. It didn't matter It was enough to tell him what he needed to know. There was a bruise there.

Tonight, as with every night, they wore his colors. The Master had taken great pleasure in buying them a wardrobe that matched his eyes. It served two purposes at once. The colors marked them as his even while the fact that she'd bought the clothes was meant to remind him that they ultimately belonged to her. Like he did. "Dere no reason to be sad, petits," he told them softly. Sorrow poured off them so thickly, he was amazed that they weren't drowning in it.

"Who says I'm sad?" Jo asked with some of her typical stubbornness. It was good she hadn't lost it. He turned to look at her, lifting his hand so he could wipe a tear from her cheek with his thumb. She shrugged one shoulder and shook her head. "I was laughing at Ivan. He dances like a chicken."

The response was enough to bring a chuckle to his lips. Both of them shivered at the sound of it. He turned to Gin. She was watching him silently. "What you say? You tink Ivan dance like a chicken?"

"He does." She gave a nod of her head to confirm it. He took a moment to study her face, noting the tension that her faint smile couldn't hide. It was in the set of her shoulders, too. A quick glance sent to Jo told him she felt the same. He knew what it meant. They were expected to go back out into the crowds and entice more willing victims. Neither one wanted to do it, either.

He was going to lose them if this kept up. He could feel it. Something or someone would set either of them off and then... He'd wake to find them gone. Or dead. He couldn't let that happen. They needed to forget, if only for a night. They needed something to cling to, something pleasant to help get them through the horror. Something to keep them by his side. He was starting to wish they hadn't come looking for him, that they'd filed their time with him away as a fantasy come true. The past five years had been hell for him.

He couldn't lose them.

Decision made, he gained his feet, then turned to offer each of them one of his hands. Both girls blinked up at him in confusion. He ignored the fact that he could feel the Master approaching and offered them both a broad smile that was filled with promise and seduction. The look was enough to see them putting their hands in his. He pulled them up, tucked them under his arms without saying a word. When he turned, the three of them faced the Master. She smiled up at him sweetly. "It is time for them to go hunt for me again."

"Non." He shook his head, tightened his hold on them slightly. Enough that they pressed closer. "Dey had enough for de night."

"They know the rules, my sweet. As do you. If they do not work for me, they will feed me. There is little you can do about it." She gave him a menacing look that sent the two girls huddling against him.

"Dey need time away from all dat," he told her quietly. "You keep sendin' dem out into de people, dey do some ting foolish. Remy don' want to see dem hurt or dead."

She seemed to give it consideration for a few moments before turning her attention to the girls. The smile she offered them was far from reassuring. She stepped closer and reached out to trail her fingers lightly across Gin's cheek. "Is my sweet Remy correct? Am I pushing you and your little friend too hard? Are you desperate enough to try and slip my hold?"

"We won't leave Remy," Gin replied evenly. He knew it was the only answer she planned on giving the Master. The Master knew it, too. She turned to where Jo stood and touched her the same way. It was more than enough to see the woman's muscles tense.

"And you, my dear. Do you think I abuse you? Do you think I should set you free?" She left her hand on Jo's cheek and waited for the woman to answer her. When no reply was given to her, she frowned and slapped the mortal at his side. The girl rocked against him but she said nothing. Her hands fisted around his t-shirt to keep herself from falling over. "Answer me, you arrogant little child."

"My mother taught me not to speak if I didn't have anything nice to say about someone," Jo replied, her voice a hoarse whisper. He could hear the pain under her words. The Master raised her hand to strike again.

"You keep doin' dat, she not gon' be able to work de crowds," he said softly. The Master blinked at him a moment before slowly returning her hand to her side. "Dey takin' de night off. Dere enough people in de cages for now."

"Very well, Remy. For tonight, you can treat your little girls as you see fit. Tomorrow night, though, they are to be back on that floor. They will bring me twice as many people as usual. To make up for allowing them to relax tonight. If they fail me, all three of you will be punished."

"Dey don' fail," he told her coldly. "Dey don' fail you yet." He didn't wait for her to say anything else. He simply led the girls off, back to his room. It was the only place he ever saw the real them anymore, the only place they felt safe enough to be the same as those carefree high school graduates he'd met so many years ago.

The other members of the kiss fell back as he escorted his companions through them. He could feel all eyes on him as he carefully guided the girls back to the relative safety of their room. Neither one of them relaxed until the door was closed behind them, despite the fact that they all knew it offered only an illusion of protection and privacy. He and Gin turned immediately to Jo. The bruise was already starting to show where the Master's hand had struck her.

"Jo, are you alright?" Gin asked softly, her fingers gently tracing the darkening mark.

"No. I'm not. One of these days, I'm going to kill that arrogant bitch. I'm going to drive a stake right through her black heart and watch her die." The anger was good. It would help keep her going. But she needed to hold on to it and keep it hidden inside. "I swear to whatever gods are listening. She's going to die."

"Not tonight, petit," he promised her softly, drawing her close for a kiss meant to drive all thoughts but one from her brain. She melted against him, clung to him when he drew back and pulled Gin into his embrace so that he could hold them both. "Not tonight."

~*~*~*~*~

Gin sat at the table, carefully picking bits of breakfast food from the platters that rested in the center of it. She was waiting for Jo to join her. The other woman had slept in after the two of them had spent a night of unforgettable passion in Remy's arms. She knew why he'd done it, had sensed the disquiet in him even if he'd been shielding his emotions from her. He was worried. He'd never admit it, but he was worried. If the Master's little attack last night had been any indication, the crazy bitch was getting more and more desperate. It was only a matter of time before she and Jo displeased the woman enough that she'd kill them. It wouldn't matter to her that such an act would kill Remy, too.

They had to find some way out.

If only there were more nights like there'd been last night. Nights made to help them forget the hell that their lives had become. Much of Remy's seduction had been geared toward that. Between the way the leopards who watched over them during the day, their constant physical attacks and the nights spent luring people to their deaths, it was getting harder and harder to want to get up in the morning. Or the afternoon. She was worried that Jo would do something stupid to get herself hurt. Or killed.

Whenever the lycanthropes got too aggressive with Gin, Jo stepped in. She didn't care about the risk to herself. And her mouth was getting her into more and more trouble with the Master. It was only a matter of time before there was nothing anyone would be able to do to stop her. A small stab of something like mirth took her a moment. How had she ever thought that the beating Jo took from her ex-boyfriend was the worst thing the girl had ever suffered? Or the loss of her father? That had been nothing next to what was happening to them here. The vampires and weres saw them as nothing more than toys. And toys were made to be broken, weren't they?

She idly nibbled at her food, contemplating the state of things. Their lives had become some kind of waking nightmare. Every day was a new definition in freak show. They'd been bitten, scratched, clawed, abused, locked up, threatened... Their captors took great delight in scaring them whenever they could. Script writers in Hollywood couldn't come up with any better horrors than they'd seen at the hands of the Master and her psychotic brood. If not for Remy, she thought maybe they'd have killed her and Jo a long time ago.

Remy. Just thinking of him brought a warmth to her cheeks that was made of memories and emotion. Even in this dark place, he was a shining ray of hope. Gin wasn't so stupid as to think that he wasn't putting his neck on the line each time he stood up to the Master or one of the other members of her kiss. But he did it anyway. And he was strong. She didn't know how, but there was a feeling of power to him that she was sure shouldn't have been there.

Last night had been... the stuff of dreams. She'd taken a course in college on preternaturals, more for fun than anything else. There'd been all kinds of guest lecturers. And they'd all had varying views on what happened to people when they became vampires. Some said that their personality remained the same, that the vampire had the same morals and views as they had as a mortal. Some said that they lost everything that had ever made them the person were. That they became evil things. But not Remy.

She had memories of that week five years before, of the time that he'd spent with her and Jo as he'd showed them New Orleans. His New Orleans. Not the part that catered to the tourists. It had been the most amazing week of her life and it really hadn't been hard to fall a little in love with the man. Those lecturers who'd claimed that vampirism changed a person were so wrong. He was still the same Remy she'd known back then, still the same man she'd fallen head over heels for. And the fact that he'd taken so much time last night to show them what they meant to him, what having them at his side meant to him, made her love him just that much more.

She wasn't sure if the almost blindingly passionate encounter had been just for Jo's benefit or if it had been for both of them. Every day, her friend lost a bit more control of her temper, a bit more of herself. Not that it wasn't difficult for Gin, either. To be swept up on the sea of emotion night after night, knowing that she was dooming someone to their death, made her sick at heart. Jo wasn't the only one who wanted to kill the rotten bitch who lorded over the kiss. But Gin was smart enough not to say it out loud. But last night told her that Remy knew they couldn't keep it up without something giving. He was doing his best to help take away some of the guilt and the pain. But it wouldn't work forever.

No matter just how amazing he was in bed. Something was going to give. She could feel it as surely as she could feel her self-respect shredding.

Dark laughter brought her out of her thoughts. She found herself surrounded by several of the leopards. They were watching her with hungry eyes. The heavy weight of their lusts pressed against her until she felt as if she would choke on it. Worse than that, she could feel the malice that rode the air. She was caught between the desire to make herself smaller and the urge to stay still, to not let them see how rattled she was. Ivan, the man Jo'd said danced like a chicken, advanced on her first. "You smell good, little girl. Like fear and sex and meat. I wonder which part of you tastes better?"

"You should eat her and find out," Danny growled. Gin couldn't repress the shudder that came at the sound of his voice. She didn't think he was talking in a sexual manner.

"Can we all have a bite?" The question came from Dmitri, Ivan's younger brother. His eyes glowed with the thought. She could see his hands flexing and she could sense that he was close to losing control of his beast.

"She's just a little morsel," Ivan replied. "Hardly a snack. Why should I share my snack? Perhaps you should eat the other one."

"Too bitter," Dmitri shook his head. "I want this one."

Gin pushed her plate away, appetite gone. When she rose from her seat, intent on returning to Remy's room, Ivan's hands found her shoulders and pushed her back down into the chair. She shook under the touch, waited for the slight pain that came with his claws sliding out to prick her skin. She wasn't disappointed and had to bite her lip to hold back the soft hiss of pain. "Where are you going, little snack?" Ivan's voice was near her ear. It sounded like a purr, but she wasn't sure. She didn't want to think of him purring.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she whispered.

"But I am," he said. His claws dug deeper and she couldn't hold back the soft cry she gave as pain radiated through her.

"You're..." Gin had to pause to clear her throat so that it sounded even and steady. "You're not supposed to hurt me. Master's orders."

"I'm not going to hurt you, little snack. No. Today, I'm going to fuck you." His voice was just a whisper against her ear, but she heard the others laugh in response. "When I'm done, they're going to fuck you. And when they're done, I'm going to fuck you again. Maybe, little snack, if you please me enough, I won't eat you."

Terror shot through her. She thought that perhaps being raped was worse than being eaten. When she shuddered, his claws sank further into her skin. She whimpered and knew that there was no way to get away from them without having Ivan rip her shoulders apart. If she wasn't sure that her death would lead to the deaths of both the people she loved most, she'd have fought and welcomed the end. But she couldn't be selfish to either one of them. They needed her as much as she needed them.

"You won't touch her!" Jo's voice was filled with anger. It came from behind the leopards circling her. And it was followed by a heavy thud that brought a growl from the throat of one of the men. There was another thud, then the sound of flesh striking flesh. Ivan whirled, claws ripping free of his shoulders. Gin threw herself from her chair to see what was happening. Dmitri and Flip were on the ground, muttering curses and writhing as if they were in pain. Danny stood over Jo, who was curled up on the floor by his feet.

"Bitch!" Danny drew back a foot to kick her. Gin darted between the two men and put herself in front of her friend.

"If you touch her, the Master will have your heads." She looked him up and down so that he would take her point. "Both of them."

"She had silver. She hit them with silver," Danny growled. Gin glanced at the two downed men to see that there were burn marks on their exposed flesh. A heavy looking silver chain lay on the floor, the kind used on dogs. "Where the fuck did she get silver?"

"Shut up, Danny," Ivan ordered. He shoved Gin aside and reached down to drag Jo up by an arm. There was a smear of blood across one cheek and she looked as if she wasn't quite with it. Glaring down into Jo's face, Ivan slid one hand into her hair, wrapping his fingers around it so tightly that she winced. A sharp jerk snapped her head back until she was staring up into his eyes. "You just signed your own death warrant, bitch."

"Kill me. Go on," Jo coughed, even though Gin could feel the fear pouring off her. No doubt the leopards could smell it. It would only make them wilder. "Kill me then explain to the Master why she doesn't have one of her team to draw her food in. I hope she rips your nuts off and shoves them down your throat."

"Kill the bitch!" Dmitri rolled to his knees. There was a wicked looking burn that wrapped around his neck and rose up the side of his face to mar his cheek. His eyes glowed, his beast rapidly rising to the surface. The situation was about to go south and fast. Flip came up on all fours and looked up. The chain had taken him across the face. The red welt of his burn divided his face. His nose was broken and bleeding. He'd barely missed losing his eyes. Gin didn't know how Jo had managed it or where she'd even gotten the chain. What she did know was there would be punishment to be had because of this.

"You kill me, you're dead," the other woman promised with a smile that was filled with hate and sadistic pleasure. "If the Master doesn't kill you, Darious might. He wants to kill me himself." Gin noticed she was smart enough not to mention that Remy would kill him before anyone else had a chance. Ivan stared down at her, then shoved her away. She hit the floor hard and just laid there, stunned and unresponsive. Gin turned to go to her side. Ivan's hand curled around her arm and brought her up short.

"Where are you going, little snack?" he whispered in her ear.

"She needs my help," Gin told him, holding her voice steady. He snorted at that and shook his head.

"Oh no. She needs more than that. If she keeps up the way she's going, she'll get it, too. Maybe I'll get lucky and the Master will allow me to do the honors. Her fear smells good. So does her anger. I wonder if she'll taste good if I eat her."

The reaction was purely instinctual. Gin couldn't recall the message going from her brain to her leg. But her knee lifted anyway and she jammed it hard into Ivan's crotch. He groaned and almost doubled over. But the groan turned into a snarl. His fist connected with her cheek with enough force to snap her head to the side and spin her around without breaking the bones in her face. She landed on the ground on her hands and knees next to Jo. Ivan knelt down before her.

"Hit me again, snack, and I'll take it as foreplay. Trust me. You will not like the results of your actions," he snarled at her before shoving her back with one hand that had again become clawed. The pain she felt as those deadly claws ripped into her flesh was nothing compared to the fear that threatened to swallow her whole.

~*~*~*~*~

"He can't fight them all, Jo. Is it worth it to tell him?" They were in the bathroom again. The water was running, but not heavily enough to disguise their words from him. There was pain and a sense of resignation coming from them that tore at his heart. Despair rolled out of the bathroom toward him. It almost hurt to feel it.

"Someone has to pay for what they did to you," Jo replied.

"You're the one who took a chain after them. You need to hold on to your temper better than you do. Quit antagonizing them," Gin told the other woman.

"And I'm supposed to sit by and let them do that shit to you?"

"Yes!" Gin sighed and the tone of her voice changed. "Its better if we don't fight. The less we resist, the better off things will be."

"I can't do it anymore. I can hear them screaming in my sleep. It doesn't stop. I... I just can't, Gin." There was anguish in her voice and he heard the soft sound of a sob. He wanted to go to them, but it was obvious they were trying to keep information from him. Were they protecting him? He heard Gin shushing her friend and there was a bit of sniffling. "So what are we supposed to do when he asks? You know he will. We can't hide this."

Gin was quiet for a moment. He decided she was thinking about the question. Finally, she spoke. Her voice was devoid of emotion. "Just say one of the... customers... got a little grabby last night. Before... you know."

"Do you really think he'll believe that?"

"I don't know. But its better than telling him the truth. If he gets out of line and she kills him, I don't think what happens to us will be very pleasant. I think it would be wise if he wasn't given any more reason to fight than he's already got."

"Alright. I'll try to be good," Jo told her friend softly. He slipped away from the door. They'd be coming out soon and the last thing he wanted was for them to know he'd been listening in on what was obviously meant to be a private conversation. They were trying so hard to keep going. For him. When had he earned such loyalty? It was his fault that they were in this situation. He was humbled by the depths of their feelings for them.

He had to find a way to get them out of this mess and pay them back for their love and devotion. The best way would be to help them escape the Master's clutches. But Gin was right. There was no way he could fight them all on his own. And he was powerless to do anything about it during the day. They were on their own then. At night, the Master was awake. She was far too powerful for him to take on by himself. Even if he didn't have to contend with Darious and the rest of the kiss.

He was lounging on the bed when they came out of the bathroom. He'd put on a pair of jeans but had left his shirt off for now. He watched as both ladies eyed him speculatively for a second or two. Both sets of eyes flashed to the fly of his jeans and noted that it hadn't been done up. Gently, he patted the mattress on either side of him. They moved toward him without a word, one crawling up on either side of him. He noticed they were moving slowly and Gin's face looked a little puffy on one side.

As gently as he was able, he pulled them close until he held them against his body. Their warmth stole over him, reminded him that he still needed to feed for the night. He didn't care what the Master had to say about it. He was going with them into the club tonight. "Make me a promise," he said quietly, hands stroking idly up and down their arms.

"What's the promise, Rem?" Gin asked him. He could feel the anxiety on her, taste the slight tang of her fear. She was trying hard to keep it from him, but her shields were thinning. Easier to breech. He watched as she stared at him, her eyes going wide. She knew that he knew what was happening. She glanced to where Jo lay against him. Whatever she saw in the other woman's face reassured her and she relaxed minutely.

"Promise me you do what de Master tell you. Don' fight her. Don' give her reason to kill you. You do what she say, keep you head down."

"Promise," Gin nodded. She didn't even think about it, just said she'd do it. He turned to Jo and watched as she sighed, her eyes closed and her head tucked against his shoulder. For a moment, he thought she'd fallen asleep. Then his hand stroked over a tender spot and she winced, muscles contracting while she tried to keep hold of her breathing.

"Since you asked so nicely," she whispered, turning her lips in to press a kiss to his flesh. One hand ran lightly up the center of his chest before it made its way into his hair. "I promise. But its going to be hard to keep."

"I know dat, petit," he smiled at her. "Just do you best, hmmmm?"

"Too bad you haven't fed yet. I'd show you my best and then some," she promised in a husky voice. Lust and softer things jolted through him and he remembered again just why he'd spent an entire week with them.

"Later," he told her, making his own promise.

~*~*~*~*~

It was sunny and bright out when Anita walked into the New Orleans Police Department. Following close on her heels were Micah and Edward. Jean Claude had wanted her to have as much backup as possible without bringing anyone or thing that would upset the current Master of the City. So there were several more lycanthropes waiting back at her hotel. Rafael had sent Claudia and Bobby Lee to watch her back. Sylvie had come from the wolves while Haven had ordered Travis to go with as a representative of the lions. She got the impression that Haven had made a few creative threats. Asher had instructed Narcissus that one of his hyenas would be accompanying her, so he'd offered her a new member named Ares. She'd been skeptical until she'd found out the man had served as a member of Special Forces before being infected.

When Edward had offered to come, and she had no idea how he'd found out but she'd learned not to question his resourcefulness, she'd agreed. It might be good to have a second human with. And Edward was good at being a chameleon. Most of the individuals who knew he was Death were dead and it wasn't likely those who were still alive would talk. He'd adopted his good old boy routine for this visit and he knew as much about what was happening as she did. He'd looked over the newspaper clippings on the plane ride down from St. Louis.

The cop riding the desk looked up at them and didn't seem impressed. Until she pulled out her badge and showed it to him. "My name is Anita Blake. A Detective Morris in Homicide is expecting me."

The cop wrinkled his brow for a moment. "The Anita Blake?" he finally asked. "The one up in St. Louis that's sleeping with..." He rolled to a halt quickly when he saw the look on her face. He was embarrassed enough that he blushed for almost making crass comments.

"Yes. That Anita Blake. Detective Morris, please," she asked, trying to hold on to her anger. He nodded and reached for the phone while she drummed her nails against the scarred surface of the countertop. She barely heard him speaking into the phone. When he set the receiver into the cradle, he looked up at the three of them.

"Detective Morris is on his way out. I'll need you to sign in," he pushed a book toward her. She picked up a pen and filled out a line on the sheet. When she was done, the clerk handed her three visitor badges. By the time she and the two men with her had finished putting on the badges, an older gentleman was waiting behind them.

"Ms. Blake?" he asked, holding out a hand. "Detective Daniel Morris. New Orleans Homicide." She shook hands with him before he turned toward the hall behind him and gestured. "If you'd follow me?"

"Thank you for seeing us, Detective."

"No, Ms. Blake. Thank you. If you can help us find some way to solve these crimes, I'm happy to have you on board." Morris moved with an easy pace that suggested he was younger than he looked. If he'd been working Homicide for any length of time, that would explain any premature aging that had happened. Edward and Micah followed behind them, both silent. The detective led them into an office and closed the door behind them. There were only two chairs, so Edward motioned Micah toward one and moved to lean up against the wall. Anita sat in the second chair. Morris took his seat and stared at them for a short time. "To be honest, I don't understand just why you're interested in this case."

"I was contacted by a woman who is afraid some friends of hers might have fallen victim to the vampires responsible for these crimes," Anita explained. Morris' face fell for a moment, then he shook his head.

"How can you be sure that these are vampire crimes?" he asked. Anita held out one hand and Micah set the manila folder he'd been carrying in it. She laid it on the desktop and opened it, then started turning the photos around so that Morris could see them.

"These are copies of the crime scene photos. Your captain was happy to send them to me when I requested them. I've seen a lot of vampire killings and I can assure you that what you've got here are vamp killings. Its hard to determine in the pictures whether or not the bites are all from the same vampire. I'm going to guess and say they aren't. Which means you have a group of vampires killing. The fact that bodies haven't started rising up suddenly is astonishing," she replied.

"Some of those vics were found in the local lakes and the river. We had to use their teeth to identify them."

"The coroner determined cause of death on all of them was exsanguination. Even those that had been pulled out of the water. And yet, none of them carried any gaping wounds. How would you explain that?" She stared at Morris. Gut instinct told her he was good cop, but he was having a hard time stomaching that there were vampires doing such things as the horrors he'd seen in his recent string of victims.

"Okay. Say that its a vampire or group of vampires doing this. Why are we just now finding bodies? Wouldn't they have been doing something like this all along?" Morris questioned. She thought it was a fair question, that he was being rational and intelligent about it all.

"Not necessarily. The vampires mostly police themselves. Anyone who steps out of line ends up permanently dead," she glanced at the photos once more before putting them back in the folder. "It could be that they've gotten complacent, secure in the knowledge that the human police would never catch them. It could be that what we're dealing with is a vampire who's gone around the bend. Its been known to happen. Some of them don't like that they have to live by human laws."

"If this is true, how do we stop these vampires?"

"That's what I'm here for, Detective," she replied. "I've got more training than almost anyone in the country when it comes to vampire slaying. I'm going to assess the situation. But before I can do that, I need to know everything you know about the case."

He nodded and pulled out a file folder that was as thick as his hands if they were sitting one on top of the other. She suspected it held complete coroner's reports, photos, any witness statements taken and anything else that had come up during their investigation. He flipped through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. "We've had a few people come forward about the bodies. Most of these murders started out as missing persons. The time between disappearances and discoveries has varied anywhere from a few weeks to months. Most of what our witnesses have been able to tell us hasn't really been of any help."

"That's changed?" she asked. He nodded.

"There's always been a common link in the disappearances. All of the people reported missing had gone to a club called The House of the Rising Sun," he told her. She nodded and knew that Edward would have more information on the club and who owned it within an hour of this interview than she could manage in a few days. It was part of why she'd brought him with her. "Naturally we've checked it out. Nothing solid. That place is packed to the gills every night of the week. Doesn't matter what day it is. Can you believe someone turned an old church into a club?"

What an intriguing notion. "What kind of church?"

"It once belonged to the Catholic diocese here. But they had to sell it off and it became a club."

"And you found nothing there that would help the investigation?"

Morris shook his head. "Not at first. But then, about a week back, we had people who could tell us that they'd last seen their missing friend with a couple of regulars at the club."

"Descriptions?" Hmm. Interesting piece of information. Morris smiled and handed her the sheet of paper he'd been holding. When she took it in her hands, she realized it was a photo. The image was grainy and kind of dark, but it was plain to see the two girls. They were dancing in the middle of a circle, rubbing against one another. Both wore intent stares, but she wasn't sure who they were looking at. "How many people have come in to say that they'd seen there missing friend with these two?"

"Seven." Morris took a breath and shook his head. "We went to the club. Either we weren't allowed entrance or, when we did get in, there was no sign of those two in the crowd. Almost as if they knew we were coming and hid away."

That sounded awfully suspicious to her. She nodded and eyed the photo again. "Can I get a copy of this photo, Detective? I think it might help in my investigation."

"Of course. I'll have one made for you before you leave," the man nodded.

Anita offered him a faint smile. "Now. What else can you tell me about this case?"

~*~

She waited until they were in the rental car before she turned to Micah. She put the copy of the photo in her hands. "Tell me what you see," she instructed. She didn't like the way things were stacking up in her head.

"They're close," he frowned as he studied the grainy image. Then his finger touched the picture. "That looks like a bruise. And the other one has a scratch or a cut on her shoulder. There's a certain tension in their shoulders that shows through in the picture, too."

"And what does that spell?"

"Coercion," Edward supplied, "Are they the same girls?" Anita opened the file and shuffled through the images until she got to the bottom one. It was much clearer, taken of a pair of laughing women who were tangled around one another. One was covered with glitter while the other was soaked to the skin. The woman who'd contacted her, Ororo Munroe, had provided the picture for her. She'd said it was taken at her place of business one night after hours. She put the snapshot side by side with the photo supplied by Detective Morris.

"They're the same girls," Micah nodded, studying the pictures. "What do the vampires have over them?"

"That's a good question. We're going to find out," Anita replied and turned the car's engine over.

"Just how are we going to do that?" Edward asked. She could hear a hint of anticipation in his voice. It was almost enough to make her shiver. She was damned glad he was on her side.

"Micah, you and Nathaniel think maybe you might want to see the sights tonight?" she asked as she pulled out of the parking space. He stared at her for a few moments, then smiled and nodded.

"I think that's a good idea."

"Why send them in?"

"Are you kidding? With the way they look?" Anita shot a glance in the mirror at Edward. "If the vampires are forcing the girls to lure people in for them to feed on, do you really think they'll be able to resist Micah and Nathaniel?"

"You don't think this poses as any danger for them?" Edward asked. It was a logical question. She shook her head.

"They're lycanthropes. They can take care of themselves." She paused a moment, then glanced at him again and gave him a faint smile. "Besides, I didn't think you were the dancing kind."

"Its intelligence like that that's kept you alive all these years," Edward replied cooly. Anita tossed her head back and laughed.

~*~*~*~*~

Jo staggered tiredly toward the room that was designated as the dining room. Not that it mattered much to the vampires. The blood stains on the old stones attested to that. To be honest, she was surprised that the weres bothered to eat there. She thought that keeping up the pretence of some kind of domestic or human behavior was beyond their scope. The entire lot, vamps and leopards alike, were nothing more than a bunch of snarling animals. So far, Remy had proved the only exception to the rule.

Once upon a time, she'd thought the idea of vampires was cool. She'd read the books, seen the movies. She'd gone through her own vampire phase. When they'd come out as real creatures, she'd been thrilled. For a while, it had been her greatest desire to meet a vampire and find out what it was really like. She was so over that foolishness. The past few weeks spent in this hell had broken her of that desire. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her normal, boring life. She wanted to pretend that this had never happened to her.

So that wasn't entirely true. She stopped and leaned against the wall, trying to clear her head. Between the fight with Ivan and his crew the day before, working to find people for the Master from the minute the doors opened to the moment the sun came up and the short amount of time she'd spent with Remy, she was completely exhausted. It didn't help that she and Gin had let him feed. She'd been able to feel the hunger, his hunger, beating against her skin. He'd tried to pretend that he was alright, but she and Gin had known better. After sharing a look, they'd both bared their throats for him. She didn't regret the loss of blood, even if it made it harder to work the floor. She'd felt him with her all night, part of him lodged in her brain. That was what had kept her going when she'd been worn and tired, when she'd felt deflated and wanted nothing more than to cry.

She'd barely managed any sleep this morning. Something had been whispering against the back of her mind, something important. Not that she'd been able to figure it out. Her brain hadn't wanted to function well enough to allow her to grasp what it was. All she knew was something was about to happen. Some big change or event. She was afraid that it would be bad.

Struggling upright, she started once more toward the dining room. And stopped dead in her tracks. She could hear growling. The low, bass rumble that she knew was Ivan. And then the fear brushed across her skin and painted her in it, thick and cloying until she wanted to turn and run the other way. Oh Goddess! Gin!

Panic, fear and anger lent energy and speed to her feet. She charged into the dining room, hands fisted. The sight that greeted her brought her to a halt and her lungs froze. Ivan, Dmitri and a handful of others had cornered her at the table. Platters of food and the dishes laid out for use were tossed wildly around the room. A few chairs had been turned over, as if Gin had tried to run.

Gin.

Dear gods. Her clothes had been torn off her and lay in a small heap on the floor. Ivan had her bent over the table, one hand holding her face down against the hard wooden surface while the other flexed against her hip. She could see the claws from where she was at, glistening wetly with blood. And his hands weren't all he'd shifted this time. She was staring at a monster. She could see the man in the cat's face just as easily as she could see the cat in the man's face. She didn't know what he was. But he was covered in fur and he was... violating Gin.

The fucker had to die.

Jo ran over and scooped up one of the turned over chair. Rage had taken control of rational thought, the promise made to her best friend forgotten. It had been taken over by the urge to kill them all, to smash their heads into the stone floor until nothing but blood and gore leaked out. The rage gave her a strength she didn't normally have, gave her a burst of speed that saw her across the room in the blink of an eye. Maybe it had been longer, but she'd lost all sense of time.

"Die, you son of a bitch!" she bellowed, swinging the chair for all she was worth. The heavy wooden piece took Ivan across the back of the head and drove him sideways. Gin screamed, fresh stripes of red appearing on her back. The chair shattered as it made contact with him, the shock of impact vibrating up her arms. Things moved so fast.

Danny had her arms pinned behind her, his hold so tight that she thought he might break bones. Ivan turned to her, blood trickling down his neck. She felt a moment of satisfaction that she'd done some damage. He growled and pointed a clawed finger at her. "You're next!" It was a hissing promise. Yellow cat's eyes focused on her, then he waved his hand toward her. "Dmitri. She's yours to play with. Save some for me."

Jo barely saw Dmitri move toward her. All she could see was Ivan and the pulsing shaft of his erection. It looked as angry as he did. And there was blood...

His words finally sank in and she tried struggling, kicked her legs out at Dmitri until he caught them. One in each hand, he stepped between them until he was snug against her body. There was a light of wildness eyes that were still human, but rapidly filling with his beast. She felt his hands change, then claws were digging into her hips while he worked at shredding her jeans. "I've been waiting for this, bitch," he growled at her.

A noise from Gin distracted her, drawing her eyes to the table where she was pinned beneath Ivan. He was thrusting into her with hard strokes, his claws once more piercing her flesh. "No!" she tried kicking again, but it did no good. Dmitri was too close for her to do him any harm. "Get off her, mother fucker! I'm going to skin you with my bare hands and..."

"Shut her up!" Ivan roared. Jo barely saw the hand coming. The blow sent images tumbling around inside her head, left her limp in the men's hold. The dull throb was replaced by searing pain as Dmitri shoved himself into her body. Her eyes found Gin's and it helped. Watching her, seeing her stoicism helped drive some of the pain away until it felt like she was floating, only vaguely aware that something was happening to her body.

Ivan wasn't gentle. His claws slid in and out of Gin's back while his hips flashed hard and fast against her own. Gin's fingers were curled around the edge of the table. It was easy to see the strain on her face, in the way she held herself. Her nails dug into the wood beneath her. But she was almost silent, almost blank. If it hadn't been for the tendrils of pain and fear that wove around Jo, she'd have sworn that her friend wasn't in there.

It felt like an age later when Ivan finished with a loud growl and a thrust that brought a soft whimper from Gin's lips. He leaned over her and whispered something in her ear. Jo felt her fear increase and struggled to get away from her captors. She wanted to go to her friend's side and offer comfort. She wanted to kill the bastard, wanted to rip his throat out or rip his nuts off.

Dmitri pulled out and jerked Jo from Danny's grasp. She barely had an opportunity to process the change before he was slamming her down on the table top so hard that the breath fled her lungs. Jo cried out when he shoved back in, trying to draw air into her lungs and keep her tenuous hold on consciousness. His claws shredded her shirt before pricking at her breasts, drawing blood and bringing a new rush of pain.

The two of them were handed around to the small group of weres, used in whatever way possible. When the men were finished, they walked out and left Gin and Jo where they lay. They were smeared with blood and cum, their bodies aching and sore. Gin sat up slowly. It took four tries for her to gain her feet. When she was standing, she reached for Jo's hand. "Come on. Let's go clean up."

"Why? What does it matter?" Jo shook her head. "We can't hide this."

"We're damn well going to try," Gin returned. She took the other woman's hand and tugged gently. "He doesn't need to have to deal with this. Not to mention, we have to be on the floor tonight."

Jo looked up at her, tempted to tell the other woman that she was done, that she couldn't do it anymore. Let the queen bitch kill her. But there was fear in her friend's eyes. And something that had never been in them before. Despair. She couldn't leave Gin alone to this. Heaving a sigh, she allowed Gin to pull her to her feet. She slid an arm around her shoulder and, together, the two of them started for the room they shared with Remy.

"Right. The floor."

~*~*~*~*~

Remy felt her a moment before she arrived. She didn't knock, simply pushed the door open and swept into the room as if she were a queen entering her court. He lounged against the wall by the bathroom door, his face an empty mask. He'd awoken to find the girls in the bathroom again. This time, though, he'd actually stepped into the room. Neither had looked at him. But he hadn't needed to see their eyes to know what had happened. Humiliation and anger had clogged the air, along with fear and pain. It was almost as palpable as the scent of sex, stale sweat and vomit. Under it all was the musky smell of fur. He'd almost gone after them, almost let his anger control him. Almost.

The hiccupping sob had stopped him and he'd instead pulled them both into his embrace, hugged them close and whispered promises in French that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to keep. Between the soothing tones of his words and the calm he'd pushed on them with his charm, they'd relaxed into his embrace and allowed him to urge them back to the bed. Neither one had fought when he's pushed them into a light doze. He'd left them there until they'd woken on their own. Once again, they were in the bathroom. Cleaning up. Hiding. Whispering. Crying.

"Where are they, my sweet?" she asked, her voice filled with gentle innocence and vile poison. The urge to destroy her swept through him, but he walled it away behind his shields. Gave her a bland stare. When he didn't answer her straight away, the childish expression fell from her face to be replaced with anger. "They are supposed to be on the floor."

"Dey cleanin' up. Dey don' feel too good," he commented.

"I do hope nothing serious is the matter with them. They are so dear to me. As you are dear to me," she blinked at him, eyes wide and swimming with mock concern. He said nothing, simply continued to stare at her. Her expression changed yet again, becoming an empty mask that showed him nothing. Not that it mattered, He could feel her nervousness. He was sure she knew what had happened. He thought perhaps she was afraid that he would find a way to send them away. He could kill her now, bring the entire building down on her head. But he wouldn't. It would be too easy. She wouldn't suffer. Not nearly as much as she'd made them suffer. "They will go do as they are told. Or I will kill them."

"Dey not toys to be played with," he informed her. "You gon' treat dem with respect."

"Or what, my sweet? What will you do?" she asked, voice trilling with laughter. He only stared at her, held her gaze with his own while he let his gift close around her. She started when he pressed against her mind, tried to block him. There was no keeping him out. He'd been inside her head since the very first. He pressed his will and desire into her gray matter until she trembled under the onslaught.

His only answer was a slow smile.

"I expect them on the floor in half an hour, Remy. Or I will punish them." She turned and swept from the room. The trail of confusion and fear she left behind her was akin to ambrosia for him. She wouldn't push any of them around any longer.

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