Laurell K. Hamilton - Incubus Dreams

Incubus Dreams

Laurell K. Hamilton

An Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Novel

ISBN 0-425-19824-3

To J,

companion, best friend, lover,

stick and carrot, true partner, husband.

Words fail.

Acknowledgments

To Dark, who is always instrumental in making sure the deadlines get met and the business, all of it, gets attention. Karen, for taking me around to the strip clubs and teaching me never, ever, to sit near the stage. To Sherry, as always, for doing so much to keep everything clean, neat, and as tidy as well let her. I do realize that we are the stumbling block. Bear, also for going around to the strip clubs with us, and just being a large and wonderful presence. Robin, for answering my questions and, as always, for being a wise voice. To Marshal Michael Moriaty, for sending me all the nifty stuff on the federal marshal program, and answering some of my questions. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. To Sergeant Robert Cooney of St. Louiss Mobile Reserve, for answering questions, for the tour and letting us see all the wonderful toys. His input was invaluable to this book. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. The more I learn about our own Mobile Reserve and all the tactical units across the country, the more impressed I am and the more I despair of ever getting it just right on paper. My writing group, the Alternate Historians: Tom Drennen, Rhett MacPherson, Deborah Millitello, Marella Sands, Sharon Shinn, and Mark Sumner. Fine writers, good friends, and champions of esoteric trivia. To Mary, my mother-in-law, who did grandma day camp with Trinity so that Jon and I could get this rewrite done. If Jon hadnt sat with me and made me do it, you might never have seen this book. To Trinity, who gets more amazing every year, and who I hope someday understands what the heck I was doing all those days and nights up in that room at the top of the house.

It was an October wedding. The bride was a witch who solved preternatural crimes. The groom raised the dead and slew vampires for a living. It sounded like a Halloween joke, but it wasnt.

The grooms side wore traditional black tuxedos with orange bow ties and white shirts. The brides side wore orange formals. You dont see Halloween orange prom dresses all that often. Id been terrified that I was going have to shell out three hundred dollars for one of the monstrosities. But since I was on the grooms side I got to wear a tux. Larry Kirkland, groom, coworker, and friend, had stuck to his guns. He refused to make me wear a dress, unless I wanted to wear one. Hmm, let me see. Three hundred dollars, or more, for a very orange formal that Id burn before Id wear again, or less than a hundred dollars to rent a tux that I could return. Wait, let me think.

I got the tux. I did have to buy a pair of black tie-up shoes. The tux shop didnt have any size seven in womens. Oh, well. Even with the seventy-dollar shoes that I would probably never wear again, I still counted myself very lucky.

As I watched the four bridesmaids in their poofy orange dresses walk down the isle of the packed church, their hair done up on their heads in ringlets, and more makeup than Id ever seen any of them wear, I was feeling very, very lucky. They had little round bouquets of orange and white flowers with black lace and orange and black ribbons trailing down from the flowers. I just had to stand up at the front of the church with my one hand holding the wrist of the other arm. The wedding coordinator had seemed to believe that all the groomsmen would pick their noses, or something equally embarrassing, if they didnt keep their hands busy. So shed informed them that they were to stand with their hands clasped on opposite wrists. No hands in pockets, no crossed arms, no hands clasped in front of their groins. Id arrived late to the rehearsalbig surpriseand the wedding coordinator had seemed to believe that I would be a civilizing influence on the men, just because I happened to be a girl. It didnt take her long to figure out that I was as uncouth as the men. Frankly, I thought we all behaved ourselves really well. She just didnt seem very comfortable around men, or around me. Maybe it was the gun I was wearing.

But none of the groomsmen, myself included, had done anything for her to complain about. This was Larrys day, and none of us wanted to screw it up. Oh, and Tammys day.

The bride entered the church on her fathers arm. Her mother was already in the front pew dressed in a pale melon orange that actually looked good on her. She was beaming and crying, and seemed to be both miserable and deliriously happy all at the same time. Mrs. Reynolds was the reason for the big church wedding. Both Larry and Tammy would have been happy with something smaller, but Tammy didnt seem to be able to say no to her mother, and Larry was just trying to get along with his future in-law.

Detective Tammy Reynolds was a vision in white, complete with a veil that covered her face like a misty dream. She, too, was wearing more makeup than Id ever seen her in, but the drama of it suited the beaded neckline, and full, bell-like skirt. The dress looked like it could have walked down the isle on its own, or at least stood on its own. Theyd done something with her hair so that it was smooth and completely back from her face, so that you could see just how striking she was. Id never really noticed that Detective Tammy was beautiful.

I was standing at the end of the groomsmen, me and Larrys three brothers, so I had to crane a little to see his face. It was worth the look. He was pale enough that his freckles stood out on his skin like ink spots. His blue eyes were wide. Theyd done something to his short red curls so they lay almost smooth. He looked good, if he didnt faint. He gazed at Tammy as if hed been hit with a hammer right between the eyes. Of course, if theyd done two hours worth of makeup on Larry, he might have been a vision, too. But men dont have to worry about it. The double standard is alive and well. The woman is supposed to be beautiful on her wedding day, the groom is just supposed to stand there and not embarrass himself, or her.

I leaned back in line and tried not to embarrass anyone. Id tied my hair back while it was still wet so that it lay flat and smooth to my head. I wasnt cutting my hair so it was the best I could do to look like a boy. There were other parts of my anatomy that didnt help the boy look either. I am curvy, and even in a tux built for a man, I was still curvy. No one complained, but the wedding coordinator had rolled her eyes when she saw me. What she said out loud was, You need more makeup.

None of the other groomsmen are wearing makeup, I said.

Dont you want to look pretty?

Since Id thought I already looked pretty good, there was only one reply, Not particularly.

That had been the last conversation the wedding lady and I had had. She positively avoided me after that. I think shed been mean on purpose, because I wasnt helping her keep the other groomsmen in line. She seemed to believe that just because we both had ovaries instead of balls that we should have joined forces. Besides, why should I worry about being pretty? It was Tammy and Larrys day, not mine. If, and that was a very big if, I ever got married, then Id worry about it. Until then, screw it. Besides, I was already wearing more makeup than I normally did. Which for me meant any. My stepmother, Judith, keeps telling me that when I hit thirty Ill feel differently about all this girl stuff. Ive only got three years to go until the big 3-0; so far panic has not set in.

Tammys father placed her hand in Larrys. Tammy was three inches taller than Larry, in heels, she was more. I was standing close enough to the groom to see the look that Tammys father gave Larry. It was not a friendly look. Tammy was three months, almost four months pregnant, and it was Larrys fault. Or rather it was Tammy and Larrys fault, but I dont think thats how her father viewed it. No, Mr. Nathan Reynolds definitely seemed to blame Larry, as if Tammy had been snatched virgin from her bed and brought back deflowered, and pregnant.