Arrant Nonsense

"After some study, I think I may be able to help you."

"Oh, god, Chambliss, haven't I been helped enough?" He set the water aside with a shaking hand. "Just let me go smash and be done with it."

"Every single person upstairs would object strenuously to that."

Ben put his face in his hands. "You would have to bring them into this. Unfair tactic, man."

Chambliss, as always, was unruffled by the accusation. "Was it efficacious?"

He took a couple of seconds to work out what that meant. Apparently he still had some scotch in his system, and it was making him slow. "Yes." Ben's voice was muffled by his hands. "But you gotta promise me, Chambliss--" His head came up. His eyes had turned amber, and for once, he knew it. "If it doesn't work, it's the end. No more." He dropped his head again. "Because I've had fucking all I can take."

"This will work."

That's what the goblins thought before they accidentally ripped out my soul, Ben didn't say.

Perez stood there for a few seconds, breathing, which struck Ben as almost funny--the fact that a vampire who didn't need to breathe was doing so, while Ben struggled for air, tickled his sense of irony. Ben waited to feel the snapcrunch that meant his jaw had broken, but it didn't come. Perez released him with a not-gentle slap to each cheek. "Frigging wolves. Nothing but trouble. How is he, Jensen? He looks like shit."

"He's having a really bad reaction to the wolfsbane this time," Jensen said from behind Ben's head. "Honestly, Perez, can't we just put him down?"

"No, we can't. Certain people on the Council want to make an example out of him, so he gets to die slow. Congratulations, wolf, you managed to piss off a couple of people who count more than I do."

"Sorry," Ben tried to say through the gag.

Perez's lips tightened, and he took the thing off. "You want to talk?"

Ben's mouth and throat were dry, and he took a few tries before he was able to speak. "This is no picnic...for me either." He barely recognized his own voice. He still couldn't breathe.

"Don't you dare ask for her."

"God, no. Fuck you, man...for even thinking...I'd want her to see me...like this."

"Never liked you."

"Not too fond...of you either." The effort of making conversation sent him into a coughing spasm, and he tasted blood and wolfsbane toxins.

Angeline remembered the layout of the house and headed that way. She stopped short in the entryway. She thought she'd been prepared, but even her active and frightening imagination hadn't prepared her for this. "Good god, puppy, you look--" She had no idea how to finish that sentence. "Bloody awful" seemed pitifully inadequate, while "positively horrifying" would only twist the metaphorical knife clearly buried in his chest.

"I've seen a mirror, Ange. I know how I look." His lips twisted along with her heart; she knew that expression all too well. Haunted amber eyes in a haggard face, a flash of fang, a hint of fur--all that, while he tapped away on his laptop without noticing how close to the surface his wolf was.

She jerked her chin at the computer. "Working?" He was dressed only in a pair of sweat pants that looked about six sizes too large.

"Keeps me occupied. Leaving the house is out. I can do the hacking work from here." He bared his teeth. "When I remember where I'm at. I think I'm tracking right this minute. Whether I actually am is an open question. Ask me in an hour."

"I'm tired, Chambliss. I'm so tired. And someone tried to kill me with a sword yesterday. Damned if I don't wish he'd succeeded."

"I know, Master Ben." Chambliss's voice was gentle. "Do you wish me to sit with you for awhile?"

Chambliss was one of the few people in his life who actually understood. "I'd like that. Very much. If you have time."

"My responsibilities are light at the moment." The couch moved as Chambliss had a seat. "Shall we trade war stories?"

"I don't think that's a good idea." Ben didn't like talking about the war. Any of his wars. "But if you've got some funny stories about Alex, I'd love to hear them."

"Master Alex is a colorful character, and I have a multitude of tales I could tell."

Ben didn't open his eyes. "Butler's choice; pick one."

A pause. "As you've no doubt become aware, Master Alex is something of an adrenaline enthusiast."

A smile curled Ben's lips. "Combined with how much he drinks, I've seen that make for some dangerous hijinks."

"A few years ago, he went to Pamplona…"

And Chambliss was off. Ben had heard this story before, from Megan, but Chambliss was an excellent raconteur with a few extra details that Megan hadn't supplied. Ben relaxed and let the tale wash over him. "And that's why Master Alex learned first aid for a sucking chest wound," Chambliss concluded.

Ben opened his eyes and found that he'd wolfed without realizing it. Chambliss's story hadn't even hitched--Ben wondered if anything could shake his composure and decided that he didn't want to see something that could.

"Do not lose consciousness. That would be…unfortunate."

"Disastrous," the one at his head rumbled.

"Stay awake during the massive panic attack and through the pain. Gotcha."

The knife went deeper this time, and fire grasped his bones and twisted as the goblins chanted something in their language. He couldn't even get enough air to scream. No need for them to hold him down; he was paralyzed. The goblin carved intricate patterns into his chest while he ran an internal monologue of Don't pass out, don't pass out, this will be so much worse if I pass out, but he wasn't sure he could stay awake through this because his brain had other ideas.

Name, rank, social. That served to ground him. The goblins were helping, not hurting, although it hurt like a motherfucker. He'd been through worse. He had. He made a list of things that were worse…

And then discovered that he was wrong. The goblin with the knife ground its fingers together, and fine powder sifted into the wounds. Ben's shadow-self sank into him, and he could feel its malevolence seeping through his marrow. Darkness filled him, suffusing into his very being, out to his fingertips. "No," he gasped. That wasn't him. He didn't want it to be him. He couldn't face Janni ever again if that was him.

"Shh." Janni cradled his head against her shoulder. "Just rest, Ben. You're exhausted."

"So tired of fighting." With a start, Janni realized that Ben was crying, and she wrapped around him tighter. Last time she'd seen him cry, he'd been injected with the nanotech that had made him a werewolf, and he'd thought he was going to have to leave her for her own safety. Now he thought he should leave her again... "I'm so sorry," he said, over and over.

"You didn't do anything wrong. Don't apologize for surviving."

"I wasn't supposed to. Survive. Didn't want to. It got so bad. Started hallucinating. You." His breaths were as short and choppy as his sentences. "And then it turned out they weren't hallucinations. Except the once. And it wasn't you. Ever. I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"Not much. But that's okay. Let it out." The more he told her, the more she could understand, and the better she could help him. And he was more likely to Talk While Intoxicated than while he was sober. Sober, he'd give a clam a run for its money in the close-mouthed stakes.

"Falling. Don't want to hurt you when I hit and go smash."

"I'll catch you. You won't hurt me."

"I wish...oh, god, I'm tired. Had to hold it together for so long. Finally had enough."

"Perez said you lost it and carnage ensued."

"Ha. Didn't lose it. Made a choice." Breathing. "Tried to make two. Bouncers got me before I could." More breathing. "Still don't know if that's bad or good. Going with bad right now. Willing to have my mind changed."

She delved in and found all sorts of thoughts skittering around in there, things like love you and ohholyshit and panic lurking in the background. A flashback of West breaking in tried to pounce, and she paused. "Open your eyes," she commanded, and he did, and she yanked the flashback out and sent it flying away before fastening her teeth into his throat once more.

He bucked against her once before easing down again. She went back into his head and heard I'm sorry I didn't mean and I totally deserve this.

Hovering over it all, in bright neon red, was a death wish. Please just please finish it oh god please...

That, more than anything, made her disengage and lick the wounds closed. She'd bitten so deeply that her incisors had left cuts as well, and she'd taken a lot of his blood, more than usual. She released his wrists and collapsed beside him. "Oh, puppy."

The shakes had him, and she pulled him into herself. He exhaled hard. "Feel better, babe?"

She did, actually. "Aye. Are you all right?" She finger-combed his hair out of his eyes. "Did I hurt you?"

"Not much. Little dizzy. I'm okay."

She raised up on one elbow. "No you're not. You're less okay than I am."

He gave her that not-smile. "That's a given, Ange. I'll always be less okay than you."

"You want to chase me around the room, catch me, and hold me down while you bite me."

"Basically. But you're allowed to make it difficult." She tried a smile. It felt lopsided. "The longer the chase, the sweeter the blood."

He swallowed, and she wondered what was going through his mind. "It's what you need?"

"'Need' is a strong word." She gave a tiny shrug. "It's a way I have of dealing. It helps."

"Then yes," he said instantly. "Yes, to all of it."

She crushed him to her. "Are you sure?"

His answer was slightly strangled. "As long as you let me breathe, yeah. Are there rules?"

"Only the ones you impose on yourself."

"Well, then." He twisted out of her arms and rolled off the bed. "Catch me if you can."

She'd give him this much--he made her work for it. He was fast and agile and sneaky, slippery as a bloody weasel, and just when she thought she had him, he'd pull some move that let him slither loose. He wasn't afraid of her nails, either, which left long scratches on him more than once. He'd not forgotten his Army training, and working for a private detective had only honed his skills.

She was stronger and faster than he was, though, and she finally tossed him face-first onto the bed. Before he could use the momentum to get more than halfway up, she landed on his back and captured his wrists, pinning them to either side of his head with more force than was strictly necessary. "Gotcha," she breathed into his ear.

Ben found a tall rock and sat on top of it, flipping the safety on and off his Glock Smith with his thumb, which he knew violated all sorts of rules, but he was at the point where he didn't care.

Ben found a tall rock and sat on top of it, flipping the safety on and off his Glock Smith with his thumb. That violated all sorts of rules. He didn't care.

speakr2customrs

speakr2customrs