Blacker than Black (21 page)

Edgy as I am, I flinch when the door slams against the wall. It rebounds with a squeal of abuse from the hinges.

A blur of blue warmth embraces me, and I smile and relax into the hug.

“What are you doing here so early?” I ask. “We just got back.” The boy has odd timing. If he’d been here any earlier . . . I take a deep breath and fight off the urge to shudder, not wanting him to sense the tension in me. In the room.

He pulls back, and the lack of a grin on his lips kills my smile. “I have information for you. Didn’t want to wait.”

“Oh.” I don’t move. For the moment, Blue’s focus is completely on me. I’m blocking his view of the
lyche
completely. I have this fear of what will—

Garthelle clears his throat.

Pushing my hands away, Blue sidesteps me and stares. “The Monsieur of York, I presume.” His voice is dangerously soft and his blue eyes flick back to me after a pregnant moment. “What have you been doing? Those drugs have worn off already. They shouldn’t have.”

How can he tell?

“Indeed,” the
lyche
comments, an edge of hostility in his tone. “And who might you be?”

It’s Jhez who finally answers, and the tension in her voice draws my gaze her way. “Garthelle, this is Blue. He’s the street dealer who agreed to trace the hypno-hit for us. For a fee.” She stands near the edge of the room, arms folded. She doesn’t like this any more than I do.

“Ah. Well please divulge the information, if you would be so kind.”

Tension. Oodles and oodles of it. It occurs to me that Garthelle deliberately distracted Blue from the subject of the drug level in my system. And a smooth maneuver it was. Not sure how I feel about that.

The
lyche’s
gaze flicks toward me and a grin tugs at one corner of his mouth. I’m tempted to stalk off to my room and cram myself with an overdose of dampeners again. The urge is definitely growing stronger.

“Have a seat, hon. I’ll get you a drink.” My sister’s grinning attempt at reassurance is stiff at best. She disappears into the kitchen.

Blue flops into the lounge chair. It’s as far from the
lyche
as he can be without fleeing the apartment entirely. I don’t blame him for being uncomfortable. As a dealer, he knows Garthelle’s kind about as well as I. It’s safe to say that he and I have met more of their ilk than anything else. The
alte Geld
don’t troll the streets, after all. Needless to say, it doesn’t make one predisposed to giving a
lyche
the benefit of the doubt. Some would call it prejudice. We prefer the term
experience
.

It’s difficult for me to say if I actually think I can trust Garthelle. My opinions on the matter are an erratic pendulum.

Bipolar decision making at its best.

I know he won’t harm me. Or at least, I’ve a certain confidence that he’ll see no reason to tweak his control of my body, mind, and senses without sufficient cause or instigation. I walk past Blue, circumventing the coffee table to sit at the opposite end of the couch from Garthelle. I might not fear for my life in his presence, but I’m not up for that touchy-feely vibe that disconnects the logic circuits in my brain.

Blue might not agree with my nonverbal communication, but he accepts it with only a slight taint of disgruntlement in his sigh. He begins once Jhez returns with a tumbler of steaming herbal tea for him. “I learned more from that hypno-hit than expected. As it happens, there’s a few different brews making rounds on the streets. They’re unique to dealers and their turfs, mixed to meet the needs of their clientele. So imagine my surprise,” Blue pauses, taking a careful sip of tea, “when this one turned out to be a very rare mix. Created specifically for use by vampires.”

“Unusual,” I comment with diplomatic disbelief.

He grins. “I had much the same reaction. But the combination and toxicity suggest that use by anyone not of vampire lineage would be lethal.”

Garthelle shifts in discomfort at the far end of the couch. I can almost
feel
his need to correct Blue’s terminology. “I’ve heard of such concoctions but didn’t think there was truth to it. Let alone a distribution network, or demand.”

Blue shakes his head and swallows more tea. “They’re not widely distributed. In fact there’s only one dealer who handles them, and he refuses to hawk them to just anyone. He only makes them for select customers who have very ‘distinguished tastes.’”

“Don’t suppose you managed to finagle the name of this client out of your contact, by any chance?” Jhez asks, perching on the couch arm beside me.

“No. The usual confidentiality agreement holds, of course.” He glances at Garthelle. “Unless you got a warrant.”

The Monsieur of York stands up and moves around the back of the couch, out of sight. When he finally responds, his voice is tense with strain. “It’s not likely I will. This isn’t that sort of investigation, I’m afraid.”

I don’t like the sound of that. “Someone dies and that’s not reason enough for an exhaustive effort?”

Irritation radiates from the
lyche
, hits the back of my shoulders with the force of a physical blow. “It’s not that simple, Black.”

“Obviously.”

Jhez grips my shoulder. “Blue, you say it’s lethal to those not of . . . vampire ‘lineage.’ What do you mean?” She phrases the query with caution, her voice as still as the surface of a lake—beneath which run swift and deadly currents. I know precisely what she’s aiming for. Mixed blood. Crossbreeds. Something that no upstanding
lyche
, not even the filthiest chi-sucking vampire, would contend exists. Unless they crop up as chi-thieves.

“Exactly what I said.” Blue buries his grimace behind his glass as he takes a drink.

Garthelle shifts, the slightest rustling of fabric precipitating a longsuffering sigh. “May I correctly assume you’re suggesting the dealer’s clientele is perhaps not
lyche
, but mutts?”

Is that what they call us? I don’t think I want to delve any further into his tightly ranked
alte Geld
than we have already. Nothing good can come of this. Nothing at all. And there is no reason I can see for him to so desperately need our assistance in this matter.

Mutts, are we?

He won’t get any further cooperation from me. At least not until he divulges the full scope of his predicament. Or whatever the fuck he’s calling this.

Then the pain shooting through my stiff shoulder and tender muscles finally registers, and I glance up at Jhez, who’s trying to bore into my flesh with her fingertips. Her stoic expression is spoiled by the terse line of her lips. The room is devoid of conversation, utterly still. Seems neither she nor Blue care for Garthelle’s terminology any more than I do.

“Right.” Blue stands up, clinking the half empty glass down onto the coffee table. “I’ve gotta run.” He looks at me, his gaze flat and withdrawn, before turning toward the door. Jhez’s grip falls away from my tortured joint as I stand up to follow our friend into the hall and pull the door shut in my wake.

“Blue, wait.”

He stops, pivoting slowly to face me. A cynical smile coils across his lips. “Be careful, brother. I understand you’re only doing what you feel you must. Really, I do. But I can’t be around him.” His usually jovial tone is absent, his words falling heavy on my ears.

I close the distance between us and embrace him. His aura is thick and prickly as it slides against mine. My eyes flutter shut as I feel the pain of his past resonate through him, tainting his aura a sickly hue. “I’ll come find you later tonight.” His arms tighten around me in response. “Will you explain? Please?”

He pulls back to stare at me and his eyes are dark, muted by his haunted aura. “Will you take another dose?”

I stare at my feet, shuffle my weight. “I want to understand.” Because whatever’s causing this reaction, it’s not really in his past if the scars still fester like this.

He watches me, silent.

“Yes, okay? I’ll shoot up right now. I promise.”

He looks away, nods curtly, then walks down the corridor to the lift.

I walk straight for the bathroom, without looking at either of them, and load another of Blue’s dampener capsules into the hypno-hitter. Shoot myself up before I have a chance to think about it any further. Or talk myself out of it. I told him I would, and I won’t break my word. Not when our friendship seems so precarious.

No, not precarious. We’ve known each other too long for that. But there is
something
going on. And he wants me . . . cut off from vamp influence when he talks to me. That’s fine. I pass on the chi-booster. Hitting those too close together is dangerous. I remember Kenna and her fuchsia outfit all too well.

When I ease the bathroom door open, Garthelle and Jhez are both staring at me. Waiting? Talk about performance anxiety.

“Mutts?” I push the bathroom door shut behind me and lean back against it, folding my arms. I’m not certain how aware Garthelle is of who we are, but I intend to find out. Because his level of awareness is directly related to how much of a slight he meant that to be.

Garthelle’s lips curve into an empty smile. It’s the same expression I recall all too vividly from my first encounter with him, and I rub absently at the bald spot behind my left ear. He’s lounging in the center of the couch with his arms draped along the back, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles beneath the glass table.

“Black, Blue, and Red,” he murmurs. A chuckle slides from him as he stares off across the room.

“Who coined that term, anyways?” I’m persistent. Even at those times when I know I probably shouldn’t be. But he’s pushing too far this time. And the irony isn’t lost on me in the least. He might insist on using
lyche
, but he can’t stop me from
thinking
vampire. Gaia, I want to stick my tongue out at him. And not in a twisted, perverted way either.

“Does it matter?”

“It’s distinctly lacking tact, perhaps?” Jhez settles into the lounge chair to sip Blue’s abandoned cup of brew.

I watch her and narrow my eyes, trying to gauge what her reaction will be if I surrender to my desire to drill at the vampire mercilessly.

“Don’t think so hard. There’s smoke curling out of your ears.” She only spares me a glance before turning her attention back to Garthelle. “Tell me, if you don’t mind too terribly, why it is that you have a term for something when you don’t feel the need to acknowledge its existence?”

His face is an iron mask, cold and expressionless. The man doesn’t care much for my sister’s tone.

Not good, not good
, my mind chants like a mantra, a shield of thought to buffer the impact of his imminent explosion.

The corner of his eye twitches.

Jhez and I, we’re dabbling in something we know nothing about and our ignorance is going to get us killed unless Mister Secretive takes it upon himself to educate us. Fast.

Garthelle’s head swivels in my direction. The languid movement is keenly at odds with the sharpness of his yellow eyes. “It’s rather obvious, Black, that I’ve no choice in the matter at this juncture.” His lips curve but this time the expression softens his features a notch. “Annoying side effect, isn’t it.”

Not again.
I clench my eyes shut and thump my head back against the door. Perhaps the impact will jar some sense into me. Shake something loose. One way or another, I’ll learn to live with the side effects. The alternative isn’t something I’m willing to face. Not right now.

Despite the fact that I like keeping my thoughts to myself, thank you very much. Can’t have it both ways, though. There’s always a price to pay for freedom. And that’s some irony for you.

“Come sit down, Black. This will take a while.”

Jhez pushes away from the lounge chair and makes for the kitchen. “In that case, I’ll start dinner.” Garthelle’s eyebrows arch up his forehead and she pauses by the couch. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll hear every word, rest assured.”

I slide into the vacated lounger and relax into Jhez and Blue’s residual warmth. Meeting Garthelle’s searching gaze, I get the impression he’s as confused by us as we are by him.

“Perhaps,” he says after a moment, “this would be easier if I showed you.”

Jhez halts and turns back slowly. “Show us what.”

“Why it is that we don’t encourage crossbreeding with humans.”

“You make it sound as if we’re . . .” I stop myself, realizing what was poised on the tip of my tongue: “different creatures.” It’s the truth. The disclosure proved that much. And with one noun, I’ve all but confessed our sordid secret. As if he weren’t already privy to it? I don’t know. He is now, though. If he had any doubts, I just allayed them.

Garthelle smiles softly, knowingly. “You don’t know what it is your twin has done, do you Red?” His attention remains focused on the pristine surface of the table cowering before him.

Jhez doesn’t say anything. She glances at me, a faint frown tugging at her mouth; glaring holes in the back of the vampire’s head offers her greater satisfaction, judging by the glint in her eyes.

“This might be difficult for you to appreciate given your lack of familiarity with
lyche
. You’re aware we don’t all feed from humans. It’s not so much required for our survival, the belief goes, as it is a craving. Some think those with a stronger craving actually possess an inherently weakened chi that requires them to replenish it with the energy of others.”