There was a knock at the door, and when I looked through the peephole, it was Reed, looking a little cross.
“Your aunt just told me to get my ass over here and watch over two sleeping Directorate agents,” he said, nonplussed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I need to get out of here for a while,” I said. “We won’t be gone long.” I started toward the door, my bag on my shoulder, intending to go to my own room, which I hadn’t yet seen.
“What am I supposed to do if they wake up?” He looked at me in near astonishment, mouth slightly agape.
“If Kat wakes up first, explain the situation to her,” I said. “It’s not like you haven’t met before.”
“And if he wakes up first?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Get creative.”
I closed the door, which muffled his reply. I’m pretty sure it was a curse, and I’m equally sure I didn’t care. I went to my room and took a shower, a long one. When I was done, I dressed in a slightly looser suit, the most comfortable one I’d brought with me, straightened my hair and applied some makeup. When I came out of the bathroom, Charlie was waiting, lying on the bed, watching TV. She perked up when she saw me, and I stared at her, question on my face.
“They gave you a spare key,” she said. “I pocketed it when you handed me the packets. Figured I might need it later.” She smoothed her dress, which didn’t show even a sign of wrinkling, and smiled at me. “Ready to have some fun?”
“Sort of.”
“But not too much fun, because that’s probably against a Directorate rule of some kind.”
She dragged a little smile out of me with that one, and we were off. We crossed the lobby, an open air, ornate space with leather couches and decor that looked like it might be just as appropriate in a manor house as it was here. As we walked, I couldn’t help but notice heads turn to watch Charlie. Male heads. Lots of them.
We bellied up to the bar, and after I’d shown my ID, the bartender, a skinny guy this time, asked us what we wanted.
“What do you think, daahhhhhling?” Charlie said it with an exaggerated English accent, like she was a duchess or something.
Why break a winning tradition? I only knew one kind of drink, anyway. “Whiskey Sour.”
The bartender nodded and Charlie said, “Make it two.” He walked off.
“So,” I said. “What now?” I swiveled on my stool to take in the whole place. It was Sunday night, and there weren’t too many people around. There was a cluster of guys dressed professionally in the corner, ties loosened, sleeves rolled up, lots of laughing going on. I caught a furtive glance from a couple of them at Charlie, who, unlike me, was facing away from the bar and leaning back, her legs crossed and cool indifference beneath her slight smile.
“Now, my dear,” she said after a long pause, “we have fun.” The bartender set her glass at her elbow and she grabbed it, slow and smooth. “Keep ‘em coming.” She pressed it against her lips as she stared at the guys in the corner, taking a long, measured drink.
I picked up my whiskey and felt the chill of it in my hand, then took a sip. It still gave my mouth an involuntary spasm, but not as bad as the night before. I almost enjoyed it this time. It burned, though. I took another, and when I finished, I caught Charlie looking sidelong at me with amusement. “First time?” she asked.
“Second. I did this last night, too.”
“Ah.” She finished her drink and signaled to the barman. “It’s my second time, too.” Her eyes fixated on the guys in the corner. “Tell the bartender to send my drink over there.” She blinked, then looked at me as though she’d forgotten me somehow. “Actually, just come with me; he’ll figure it out.”
I looked over at the men she was talking about. Not a one of them was under thirty, and I doubted more than one of them was under forty. “I, uh…think they might be a little out of my age demographic.”
“Older men have their advantages. Experience, patience…” She grinned at me wickedly.
I stared back, and I felt the flush come to my cheeks. “How can you…I mean…you could kill someone.”
“Pffffft.” She waved her hand at me. “First of all, it takes a while for your touch to kill someone; you oughta know that. Second, you just have to be careful, making sure that things are as covered as you can get them…after that, it’s all about using strength and muscle control.” The bartender set another drink next to her and it was in her hand, then in front of her mouth, hiding her grin. “Just because you’re a soul-draining succubus doesn’t mean you have to live some kind of virginal life as a nun. I mean, even your mother didn’t buy into that idea, and she was the most stiff, serious—”
“Ah, okay.” I cringed, interrupting her. “I could have done with a little more exposition and a little less color commentary on that one.” I let my expression soften. “But thanks for the info. I was…struggling with some of that.”
She pulled the glass from in front of her mouth after taking a long drink. “That’s what I’m here for, niece: to teach you all the things that Mommy can’t.” She giggled. “That’s why I’m the coolest aunt. Now, how about we take your newfound knowledge over to the table in the corner and you can find out what I mean?”
I looked back at the guys she was indicating. I felt a reaction, a wave of no, no and hell no. “Um, no. There’s not one of them that’s my type.”
She shrugged, indifferent. “Suit yourself. Sit over here and be a black hole of excitement. In a place like this, you take what you can get. Sometimes it surprises you what you’ll find.” She stood, draining the last of her drink, and walked over to the table with the guys. When she was a few feet away, they all sat up and took notice of her, especially when she leaned over once she reached the table. I heard her tone, not her words, and it sounded conversational, almost confessional, like she was telling something to an old friend she hadn’t seen in a long time. One of them got up and dragged a chair over for her. She sat in it, giving him a smile and running a hand along his exposed forearm, eliciting a shiver from him.
I turned back to the bar and stared at my drink, wondering why I couldn’t do what Charlie could. I wasn’t that outgoing, that confident, that fearless. Sure, I didn’t have any interest in any of those guys because they were way too old for me, but even if they’d been a table full of guys my age, all hot, I still wouldn’t have had the guts to do what she did. I turned and watched the easy manner with which she wrapped them all around her finger, with a joke that had them all laughing, with a gentle caress on the back that left the man on the receiving end wanting more.
All I’d had thus far was Zack, and he wasn’t exactly wrapped around my finger. I mean, I’d pretty much driven him away because I was afraid I’d hurt him. Even the revelation that Charlie had given me, that there were ways we could be intimate without him getting hurt, sounded awfully risky (not to mention fairly devoid of any romance), maybe moreso to me because I wasn’t really sure how it all worked. I mean, I’d only ever kissed him for three to four seconds before I had to stop, and she was talking about protection and muscle control – it was bizarre and exciting and scary as hell all at once, but I didn’t know which feeling was heaviest.
Also, I’d let him go. I felt a twinge of guilt and pain, and took a drink to bury that feeling under the rush that the liquor granted, that heady sensation that would be making me drift oh-so-pleasantly in just a few more minutes. Of course the aftereffects would suck, but since when do teenagers worry about consequences? I took another drink, trying to banish that thought. Self-awareness was a curse, a terrible curse. The ice clinked in the bottom of my glass and I realized I had downed the whole thing without noticing.