You Bet Your Banshee (3 page)

Because I was still freaked out about Ryvan being in my apartment, I splurged on a taxi ride to the French Quarter. The driver, a fairy with a fake Caribbean accent, chatted for the entire trip like I was a tourist. I mumbled in the appropriate spots and almost jumped from the backseat when he squealed to a stop in front of Jackson Square. I tossed him the fare and a small tip and stepped away before he could curse me for being tightfisted.

I breathed in a deep breath, the scent of fresh beignets and café au lait wafting to me from Café Du Monde. Like a lemming headed for the cliff, I followed the other customers through the line. I almost danced in place, my stomach howling for a taste of the decadence that was beignet until I got my double order of Heaven.

I took my baggie to my usual spot in front of the Cabildo. I nodded over at a regular setting up her fortune-telling stand. Tourists wandered around with their cameras out, their eyes up at St. Louis Cathedral’s mighty spire instead of the pickpockets waiting for them. I shook my head and sat down to enjoy my breakfast while doing my second favorite thing in the world. People watching.

It always amazed me how welcoming humans had been when Fairworlders came out to them. By rights they should have come after us with their nuclear missiles and whatever kinds of weapons they had now, but they hadn’t. Of course, it probably had more to do with the Fairy Queen’s Court than anything else.

I’d never been to the Fairy Court, but Queen Melosia had frequently entertained emissaries from Queen Tamsyn. I hadn’t been allowed near them because of my lowly status, yet I hadn’t minded. I was perfectly content to watch the strange elves and fairies go about their business. They were magical beings, graceful and beautiful, and for the most part, good. However, I never forgot that though they seemed too perfect to be dangerous, they were. All Fairworlders could destroy, no matter how pretty they looked on the outside.

It’d been Queen Tamsyn of the Fairy Court who instigated talks with the humans. She’d so awed them with her beauty, grace, and magic, they hadn’t thought twice about allowing her people to cross over. Fifty years later, there was a steady flow of traffic going back and forth between Fairworld, Earth, and the other dimensions that had opened up.

I licked the powdered sugar from my fingers, ignoring the lecherous grins of a couple of human males standing a few feet away. That was probably the only thing I didn’t like about living in New Orleans, the tourists who thought this was their private playground. I’d had to tell more than one flashing-for-beads woman that this wasn’t Vegas. What happened in New Orleans ended up on the Internet.

The males eventually left, drawn away from me by a couple of working girls who looked like they would prefer to sleep rather than entertain a couple of young men. Mentally wishing them luck, I wrapped my skirt tighter around my legs and watched the humans and Fairworlders weave through the square.

“Magda,” Crystal, a human palm reader, called out from her stand. She waved me over with a friendly smile.

It might sound stupid, but fortune tellers make me nervous. Maybe I believed too strongly that one of them would accidentally read my future and point out how horribly I was going to die, but whatever the reason, I stayed away from them. Unfortunately, I actually liked Crystal with her wild brown hair and snappy brown eyes.

Trying to hide my discomfort behind a shiver for the cold, I climbed to my feet and walked over to her. She had everything she needed around her table and looked ready to take the psychic world by storm.

“I was wondering if I’d see you today,” she said as I neared her.

That did not sound good. We weren’t such good friends that we looked for each other. “Oh?”

She leaned forward on her lawn chair, ignoring the warning creaks of the nylon. “Yes! I dreamed about you last night.”

Shit. I did not want to hear this. “I have to go. I’m helping Mitz with her dance number this afternoon.”

I should have been able to get away from a human, but she was surprisingly fast and strong for her age and species. She snagged my wrist in a firm grip. Fire danced up my arm and shot straight to my heart.

I gasped at the power in her touch. I knew there was a good reason I’d never shaken a psychic’s hand. They might be human, but they had a power Fairworlders would never know, the power of mortality.

“I need you to listen to me,” Crystal said in a strange, double-layered voice. It was her voice of power and it made my skin crawl. “There is darkness coming for you.” I glanced at her, fear making my heart pound. Her brown eyes swirled with white and she didn’t blink, her attention focused on me. “When your greatest desire is recognized, it will come for you and take you to your nemesis. You must defeat her, Magda O’Quinn, or you will lose everything you hold dear. The tree screams for blood and you must feed it.”

Her hand fell away, the white fading from her irises. She blinked at me and smiled. “Magda! Did you have breakfast yet?”

* * * *

I roamed the Quarter the rest of the day trying to forget about what Crystal said. I tried to tell myself I didn’t believe in fortune telling, that it was all bullshit for the tourists, but I’d felt the power in her hand. She might not have meant to have a dream about me, might not have even realized she had, but something had talked through her.

I shivered, huddling deeper into my jacket. The only nemesis I had was the banshee queen and there was no way I could ever defeat her. She not only had the most power of all banshees, but she also led an army of Red Cap goblins whose sole purpose was to keep her on the throne. I did not want to be added to the list of victims who fed the goblins’ need for blood.

As for my greatest desire, the only thing I’d ever wanted was to be loved for who I was. I suppose all beings, no matter what species, felt the same. I knew it stemmed from my grandmother giving me over to the queen to train. Most banshees were left with their families for the first twenty years of their life. Once they’d learned the rudiments of swordplay and war, they were tested and sent to specialized mentors to hone their natural skills. I’d gone into service with Queen Melosia when I was no more than ten. Forty years spent in the Wailing Court with no one but the queen and her advisors as my family had ensured I would have no idea of what it was like to be loved.

I snorted, startling a demon businessman who eyed me suspiciously before hurrying away. Yeah, yeah, whine, whine, no one loves me. Big deal. There were a lot of people in all the dimensions who managed without it. I could do the same. At least I had Breeze who gave me all the gentle affection I needed to function as a normal being instead of a monster.

As for the tree screaming for blood, that was a riot. Though there are all kinds of man-eating plants in Fairworld, they wanted flesh, not blood. Crystal had gotten her dreams crossed or something. Everything was fine.

Familiar music pounded against my ears and I looked up to see my feet had brought me right to Spankalicious. The building seemed so innocent in the light of day, but the minute the sun set, the lights would come on luring males of all species to its ancient oak doors.

I shuffled my feet, not ready to go in, but knowing I had to. The club was closed to the public right now, yet that didn’t stop potential customers from prowling the sidewalk in front. They looked at me with hungry intent, their eyes skimming the posters next to the doors until they found my picture. Their eyes snapped back to me with heat and lust and in some of their eyes, my pain.

Yeah, I couldn’t stay out here unless I wanted to become someone’s brunch. Damn. I knew I should’ve gone to the French Market to loaf around for a couple of hours. Now I’d have to sit at the bar until Mitz showed up.

I heaved a deep breath and hiked my backpack higher on my shoulder. I had a dance routine to work out with Mitz before my set in three hours.

Yay for work.

Whitesnake’s “Slow An’ Easy” blared through the club as I went through my set. I’m not the best dancer in the world, nor am I particularly gorgeous, but I have big tits and a bubble-shaped ass which is what the customers were here to see. Spankalicious wasn’t a full nudity club, but there was very little left to the imagination. The G-string barely acted as a shield against the hungry gazes crawling all over me.

I’d grown somewhat immune to being exposed in front of so many men. The humans weren’t so bad, but some of the paranormal males were outrageous, some species I’ve never even heard of tended to hang out in strip clubs. Sometimes I wished those other dimensions had stayed closed. I could deal with the beings from Fairworld, but the demon dimensions and some of the off-world dimensions had weird beings. They’d only emerged from obscurity after Fairworlders were welcomed on the earthly plane without being slaughtered. Well, other than the few very bad ones who refused to follow human laws.

I avoided meeting any gazes as I slid up and down the pole using my thigh muscles to hold impossible positions. Once I appeased my need for the basics—food, shelter, and some security—I continued stripping because the money wasn’t that bad. I told myself it was just another job, like waiting tables, or working a cash register, except I shake my money maker.

My mind was in full-denial mode by the time I started the “specialty” part of my routine. I gripped the pole in both hands, ass out and bounced it. Out of all the girls Spanky had, I was the only one who could make their ass shake like it was on a paint mixer. Not just jiggle, but vibrate. Funny the things you learn about yourself when you’re down on your luck and trying to figure out how to make a few bucks. It was part of the reason I’d ended up here. Banshees with vibrating asses were not high on the must hire list of Fortune 500 companies.

Money flew at the stage ensuring I’d be able to keep Breeze in kitty litter and myself in coffee and glamour spells. My G-string was stuffed with even more money which meant I’d be able to pay my rent next week. Spinning back around, I leaned against the pole. The song was almost over, just another minute and a half and I could get out of these damn shoes. I cupped my breasts, the subarctic temperature of the club making sure my nipples stood at attention at all times.

Unbidden, the image of Ryvan entered my mind. I tried to block the picture to no avail. Suddenly it was his hands on my breasts, his fingers brushing the nipples. Heat exploded in my pussy, soaking the material of my G-string and dampening my thighs. Oh fuck. I tried to stop my fingers and continue my routine, but something compelled me to keep going. I tortured my nipples, rolling and pinching the peaks until I was writhing against the pole.

I felt a hot, wet mouth tugging on one nipple, and then the other as a ghostly hand slid down my stomach. Long, thick fingers parted my saturated folds and penetrated my pussy in one hard thrust. Those fingers started up a fast thrust and retreat that left me gasping and moaning. Pleasure expanded until I was tight as a piano wire, the cold steel of the pole a near painful contrast to the heat scouring me from the inside out.

I came so hard I flung my head back with a near wail of pleasure. I hit the pole but the distant ring had nothing on the roaring in my ears. I’d never had an orgasm that powerful before in my life and I sure as shit had never had one in a room full of people.

The stage was blanketed with money and business cards when I opened my eyes again. Hungry men, of the mortal and paranormal kind, stared at me with pupils blown wide with lust. One demon had ejaculated something from his horns onto the fucking stage. I shuddered, trying to cover myself with my arms. Still the men shouted. Mortified at my inexplicable public masturbation routine, I grabbed my clothes and ran off stage. The next dancer was waiting in the wings, her mouth hanging open in shock.

“What the hell was that?” Sapphire demanded as I passed her. She was one of the few human strippers working at Spanky’s.

I shook my head, still not sure what happened. My eyes burned with tears that would never fall.

She planted her hands on her hips causing her schoolgirl costume to go up and out, showing off her cleavage. “How in the hell am I gonna compete with that, huh, Maggie?”

“I don’t know. Gods, I’m sorry.” My voice came out all tearful and weak.

Her face changed from outrage to sympathy. “Are you on your period? Sometimes my nipples get really sensitive at that time, too, and I can come from a stiff breeze. Don’t worry about me,” she said flapping her hands at me. “Go to the locker room and have a quick lie down before you start your shift on the floor. I’ll tell Spanky you’re feeling delicate.”

Delicate was our way of telling Spanky, who was strangely grossed out by bodily functions, we were on our period. He never questioned us and tended to give us more space to avoid having to hear about bloating, bleeding, or feminine products. I just hoped he didn’t realize I’d been feeling “delicate” only two weeks before.

I nodded at Sapphire and scampered to the locker room. It was blissfully empty at the moment, the other dancers on the club floor or in the private rooms giving lap dances. I stumbled to my locker to pull out my big, cotton robe. I shook from head to toe, my body still caught in the aftershocks of that unexpected orgasm.

I curled up on the old, battered sofa we kept in the locker room for brief naps, wrapping the robe snugly around myself. My thighs were soaking wet from my release. The soft fabric of the robe felt nearly abrasive to my nipples and my heart still pounded. Over and over again, I felt Ryvan’s big hands cupping my breasts, his fingers tormenting me until I exploded. This is what I got for not taking care of business at home. It had to be pent up sexual frustration and a dream lover. Why it’d manifested at the club was anybody’s guess, but day–um, what an orgasm!

I’d never come from nipple play in my life and I’d had my fair share of lovers. None of them would’ve been able to find my clit with a GPS and explicit directions. What I hadn’t known was that the small pleasures those assholes had given me were nothing compared to the orgasm my imaginary lover had.