Dark Studies (Arcaneology) (12 page)

“Can you continue shaping your body, like the clay from which you created it?”

Aaron gave her a considering look. “Yes, but we rarely do. It is uncomfortable and takes time.”

“How much can you change?”

“More than your plastic surgeons can.” His gaze moved over her. “That is not the face you were born with. Why did you alter it? You don’t strike me as a vain woman. In fact, you made your breasts smaller, when most women today do the opposite, and there are other…this must have taken many surgeries. You look nothing like the woman nature intended.”

Angie froze. Her surgeons were the best in the world. No one should have been able to guess what they had done. It unnerved her to have one of her secrets laid bare to this creature. What might he do with it? She considered her words carefully. Revealing anything would give him more power over her than he already had.

“I was injured,” she explained. “It was necessary to rebuild everything.”

His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “No, that is a falsehood.”

“Why do you say so?”

“We see the structure of the human body from marrow to eyelash. The bones in your face have never been broken. You have never sustained the sort of damage you claim. And now I find myself wondering why you have lied to me.”

Fear crept through her, and she drifted away from the feeling, out of reach, where she could think.

“I meant no insult,” she told him quietly. “But my reasons are my own.”

“You have many questions for me. Why should I not have some for you?”

“There are questions you may choose not to answer. I will respect that. Please respect my silence on this.”

She couldn’t guess at the thoughts going through his head.
Did
thoughts go through his head? Before he took a human body, where had his thoughts resided? Aaron studied her long enough that she had to exert self-control to keep from squirming. At last he nodded. “Very well, I shall ask you another. Why do you wish to study us?”

There was no easy answer. The most obvious reason, her early experiences with vampires, was not something she wished to reveal. After some deliberation, she said, “There are powerful beings in the world, beings like you that have been here all along but are only now beginning to make themselves known. If we are all to live together, we must come to understand each other. And, quite honestly, I find you—Fallen, elves, vampires, djinn, merfolk—thoroughly fascinating. I want to know you.” She paused and then added, “Why did you agree to this interview?”

Aaron tilted his face to the sun and closed his eyes. “I am growing old, even for my kind. My interest in this flesh has begun to wane, and as it does I find myself wanting to leave something more behind than millions of orgasms and the fond memories of my lovers. You wish to understand me, and I suppose I wish to be understood. So, shall we get on with it?”

“Yes.” Angie referred to her notes and began the interview in earnest.

Interview notes:

Subject Aaron White, one of the Fallen, is approximately four thousand years old. He appears to be a man in his prime. He has studied what our culture considers the epitome of male beauty and has sculpted his body accordingly. Changes are made as the fashions change or when he moves to a part of the world where male standards of beauty differ. I am not certain how much his appearance matters, however, as he emits a supernatural sensuality that causes sexual arousal in anyone nearby. He may choose to appear attractive from a distance in order to draw his prey into range.

His description of how the Fallen create their flesh-and-blood bodies is more poetic than scientific. For instance, he says they are made of earth and water, and they construct their physical form from the cellular level. They then inhabit that body, animating it with the “light and air” of their true form. From this I postulate that they gather the solid elements that constitute a human body, arrange them into the complex structure of human cells, and put those cells together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. They enter those bodies and animate them with the energy of their true form. It would be interesting to see forensic studies on how their bodies work, but to date none have agreed to examination. Does the “light and air” of their true form translate into the air the human body needs to survive? Or is it something beyond our understanding of the natural world that allows them to move, breath, and copulate?

Aaron claims his appetites have begun to wane, and that this is something that comes from age. What causes it to happen? Sexual desire in humans fades as they grow older, but that is a result of the physical process of aging. The Fallen’s bodies do not age, however. Does the “light and air” of their true form change in a similar way?

Some hours later, after the sun had reached its zenith and begun to descend, she found herself staring at him more and more often. He had taken off his shirt to better bathe himself in its rays and clearly took pleasure in this. His abdominal muscles were well defined. Not the cobblestone lumps of a gym rat, but a more subtle outline of their shape. His chest was hairless, and the muscles of his shoulders and arms were filled out but not bulky. The sight of his body drew her again and again until she could hardly bear to look away. She could almost feel his skin beneath her hands.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t usually go so long without sustenance. It’s harder to control myself the longer I abstain.”

Angie jerked her gaze back to his. “It’s only been a few hours.”

“An eternity for me.”

“How often do you…?”

His blue eyes darkened. “I spend eight to ten hours a day giving and receiving pleasure.”

“Eight to ten,” she echoed.

“It was more when I was younger. I went from one lover to another in an endless orgy.”

The very idea made her head swim. “Perhaps we should take a break. Do you have someone nearby you can call on?” When she saw his expression, she hurried to add, “Someone besides me.”

If she went to bed with him now, she would never finish the interview. She had to hold out a while longer.

“I have a small entourage living with me.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I made sure one would stay home in case I needed her.”

“Good. You, ah, go ahead and do what you need to do. I’ll jot down some notes and follow-up questions.”

“You must be hungry, too. I’ll have food sent up.” He lingered, looking at her in a way that made Angie feel as though he could see through her clothes. Perhaps he could, for all she knew. She’d have to ask. As he walked past, he let his fingertips brush her hair, and she nearly followed him into the penthouse.

“Down, girl,” she muttered.

Before the door closed behind him, she heard soft laughter.

Angie dozed in the shade of the potted palm tree. She’d finished her late lunch two hours ago, and after writing down her observations and sketching out some follow-up questions, she had nothing to do. So she made herself at home on a lounge chair and closed her eyes, planning to rest for just a little while.

When she woke, she found Aaron back in his chair, watching her with a faint smile. “I apologize for leaving you on your own so long. It’s hard to keep track of time when you’re in bed.”

“True.” Angie sat up and yawned. She had to walk around him to return to her place at the table and caught the scent of soap and shampoo. He must have taken a shower after his romp. She turned the recorder on and checked her notes. “You said earlier that you can recognize another of your kind on sight. Can you explain how?”

“I’ve told you we are masters of shaping earth and water into flesh and know each molecule of a human body. Our bodies are much like yours but different on a cellular level, so we see immediately when one is a simulacrum, created rather than born.”

“And are you in touch with each other? Do you have friends?”

“We are solitary hunters, for the most part. But occasionally we gather in small groups, and I keep in touch with a few who are spread out across the country.”

“Are there any sort of rules or etiquette?”

“There aren’t enough of us to need them, really. We have no government or organization.”

“What about in your original form? Is there some kind of political structure?”

Aaron frowned. He was silent so long she began to wonder whether he intended to answer, but his expression was one of deep thought, so she waited. “We have families, of a sort, which are constantly in flux. The oldest and strongest of us are respected, their wisdom sought. It is an informal hierarchy, I suppose.”

“Where were you in the hierarchy?”

“Oh, very low. Only the lowest give in to the temptations of the children of the earth.”

“What do the older and wiser ones think of this? Is it something they forbid?”

He shook his head. “We have no laws, but some things are considered to be…sins. The chief of them is coming here. That is a sin against our true nature.”

“Are you punished for it?”

“The act itself is considered punishment enough. They grieve for us when we have gone and wait for us to return.”

“Is that what happens when you pass on? You return?”

“No.”

She hoped he would explain further, but this time he had nothing else to say, or at least nothing he was willing to tell her. Instead, he changed the subject. “Would you like something more to drink? Coffee, perhaps, or a glass of wine?”

“Coffee would be welcome. Iced, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” He left her to consider his evasive response to her question while he made the coffee, or perhaps had someone make it for him. She found it difficult to imagine him doing anything so mundane.

When he returned, she moved on to another of her follow-up questions. “You said you wanted to leave something more behind, that you wanted to be understood. Are you familiar with the Journals of Iphra-el?”

He blinked and raised his brows. “I knew him. We saw each other once or twice a century. He showed me his journals the last time we met, not long before he passed on.”

“You’ve seen them?” She leaned closer but flinched away as tendrils of sensuality seeped from behind his control. “Do you think he wanted the same thing you did, to leave some part of himself behind?”

“I’m certain of it. He would be saddened to know they have disappeared. It would have pleased him much more to have them published.”

“I have a friend who is trying to find them for me.”

“Do you?” For the first time, he eyed her with something other than sexual interest.

“They’ve been sighted at a private auction. I’m hoping my friend can find who has them now, and that I might talk him or her into granting me access. Without them, I’ll probably have to change the subject of my dissertation to elves.”

“If you discover who has them, I might be able to help. I can be very persuasive.”

Of that, she had no doubt.

“I’ll let you know,” she promised.

“Can I assume you would like to meet others of the Fallen?”

“Are you offering to set up interviews for me?”

“Perhaps.” His eyes gleamed. “What would I get in return?”

“What would you want?”

He let his gaze slide over her again, and a smile spread across his face.

Angie flushed. “Right. But I’ve already said that after this interview…”

“Only for tonight, I assume. Or can you stay in town longer?”

“Not this visit. How long did you have in mind?”

“Ideally, years. Your lives are so short compared to ours, and you intrigue me. You wear masks, Angie Clark. Layers, one upon the other. What lies behind this graduate student persona? There is more. Now and then I catch a glimpse, enough to make me curious.”

This was the second time he had seen something she preferred to keep hidden. It unnerved her. What else might he see, and what might he do with the knowledge? “I’m afraid staying years, or even months, is out of the question. But a week might be possible.”

“In that case, I’ll see what I can do.” He slid one hand across the table and nudged her notebook. “Perhaps you can ask me more of your questions the next time we see each other. For now, I think we have done enough.”

He’d just had sex, less than an hour ago. Was he already hungry again? Eight to ten hours a day, she reminded herself. Perhaps he hadn’t had his fill.

When she turned off the recorder, Angie let her arm brush his. The contact sent a shock through her, and she looked up to find his eyes had gone hot and predatory. It startled her to discover she actually felt nervous, like a schoolgirl in the backseat of a car who’d decided she was ready to lose her virginity.

“Come here,” he murmured.

Chapter Twelve

The older legends speak of a goddess who roamed the night and protected the Paiute people. She weakened their enemies and gave them victory in war. Her name, loosely translated, means “She who dances with the Moon.”

—Mary Stillwater, PhD, Native American studies

The Fallen stopped holding himself in check. Once again, she felt that magnetic pull, and this time she did not struggle against it. Rising, she stepped around the table and let him draw her down to straddle his lap.

“Do you know how difficult it has been to sit here, not touching you for hours on end?” His hands slid over her.

Angie curled her arms around his neck and settled her body against his, whispering, “God, yes.”

Aaron kissed her, lightly at first, so she had time to learn the shape and texture of his lips. His tongue slid into her mouth for only a moment before he drew back and made his way down the side of her throat. “Shall you tell me what pleases you?” he breathed. “Or shall I discover for myself?”

Anticipation spread through her, and she closed her eyes. “Explore.”

His fingertips traced paths through her hair, over her face, all around her neck. They paused each time he found a sensitive spot. “There,” he murmured, lingering at her nape, “and there,” drawing a circle just behind her earlobe. Her sweater prevented him from going lower, so she shrugged it off, along with the tank top and bra underneath.