Immortals After Dark 05 - Dark Needs at Nights Edge

funneled out of the windows and chimneys. Heat reached all the way to them. “I’d realized something was wrong with me, but—”
    “Nothing’s wrong with you!” he said vehemently, already able to sit up.
    “Then what am I?”
    “I don’t give a damn. As long as you’re with me.”
    “I give a damn! What if I get stuck in that spirit form again?” She hated that weird ghostly half-world. She’d nearly forgotten how alone and echoing and faded it felt. “I wouldn’t be able to hold you when you’re injured or sleep against your warm chest. Or have sex with you. And I want to—a lot! And I’m so sick of this damned dress!”
    “So that’s what you are,” a woman cried from the oak above them. “It all becomes clear!”
    They both glanced up. Nïx sat perched on a limb, with her sword strapped over her back.
    “Up there all along!” Conrad bellowed, immediately grimacing and clamping a hand over his side. “And you didn’t think to help us?”
    Nïx stood and alighted from the limb as though stepping from a curb, landing without so much as a sound.
    “What became clear?” Néomi asked, her tone tinged with fear. “What am I?”
    She saw Conrad swallow and knew he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.
    “You’re one of those powerful Lore phantoms I was telling you about. Though your aging process was accelerated by a few centuries. Good timing, too.” She furtively pointed at the manor, saying in a stage whisper, “Just between me and you—your spirit anchor is on fire.” An explosion sounded at that moment, and glass shattered out from all the remaining downstairs windows. “And, yes, I did plan for that blast to punctuate my words.”
    A fantôme?
    “Phantom?” Conrad rubbed his forehead, smearing ash there. “Spirit anchor... ?”
    Néomi explained, “Nïx told me weeks ago that I might become like a Lore phantom if I lived long enough as a ghost. Phantoms can incarnate at will, they can trace, and they can move things with their minds. And they don’t have to remain in one place where their spirit is anchored. But it would take possibly five hundred years for me to gradually grow a body to incarnate with. Evidently, Mariketa sped up the five centuries.”
    Wide-eyed, Nïx said, “Yes, clever, clever Mariketa—a spell maker and a rule breaker! There’s a reason Mari is my favorite Wiccan-type person.”
    Conrad said, “I still don’t... What are you talking about?”
    “Mari broke the House’s rules, or rather, she bent them. Witches are not allowed to create immortals.” She faced Néomi. “But in theory, you were an immortal already. So Mari gave you a body, which jumpstarted the phantom aging process. And somehow she managed to add a touch of Lore blood to activate the transition from human to Lore being. Maybe the vampire cut himself as he was frantically fetching mirror shards for the witch’s spell? I dunno.”
    Conrad grated, “Is she part vampire?”
    “No. Your blood was merely an agent, a facilitator. Even Mari can’t make a female vampire.”
    “No wonder she was so nervous,” Conrad said. “She knew what she was going to try to do going in.”
    “Yes. You owe Mari much. Though she didn’t break the letter of their laws, she broke the spirit. She could be punished severely for this if others find out—even branded as a rogue for what she did. In short, Mariketa the Awaited will not be listing you as a reference, and you should send her a nice card for Beltane.”
    “Does this mean I can change back and forth anytime I want?”
    “You’re a shape-shifter between life and death,” Nïx answered. “Concentrate on disembodying.”
    Néomi focused. When it worked, Conrad listed to the side before righting himself. “Sorry, mon grand!” She attempted making herself whole once more. Again, gradually, she grew corporeal.
    “But, Néomi,” Nïx began with the gravest severity, “whenever you disembody... ” She paused as if deciding how best to deliver tragic news.
    “Yes?” Néomi whispered. Conrad was holding his breath.
    Nïx finally finished, “You will be... wearing that dress.”
    Néomi and Conrad groaned.
    “Just think of it as your alter-ego-wear. Cosplay of sorts, with your rose petals and goth-looking face. Speaking of alter egos—I think we should call you the Incarnatrix. Maybe give you a spotlight beacon.”
    “I’m immortal?” Néomi said in disbelief, as all this sunk in. “And a part of the Lore?” That realm Néomi