Blacker than Black (40 page)

Damn it, there’s no way for this to end well.

Blue eyes the door, bare of visible handle or lock mechanism. He looks like a caged animal, a glint of resignation and acceptance that slices through the majesty of an untamed spirit. He belongs on the streets, and that’ll never change.

I feel like the worst sort of human. And then I remind myself of what almost happened. Of what else may have happened, had I kept on doing as he asked.

My chest aches.

It has been, ever since Jhez and I left
Dragulhaven
earlier today. The limo driver hadn’t been very pleased with our destination, but Garthelle hadn’t given him specific orders to the contrary.

I rub absently at my sternum and wonder why Garthelle said
if
this wears off. Like he harbors a hope that it won’t. Or knows something else he isn’t sharing, which at this point is likely to be the case.

Does the prospect of being tied to a single individual for the rest of his existence really appeal to him that much? His face flashes through my mind, devoid of the demarcations of stress and tension. The faint curl of his lips in an enraptured state of satiation.

I want to see that again. And not simply because I felt powerful in that moment. It was a heady sensation, but the swell of emotion was decidedly more complex than that.

Damn it, I’m of no use to my sister if I can’t keep myself from being distracted. I glance at her, then over at Blue. They’re staring at each other.

“I can tell you’re not happy with me,” he says, voice low and gentle.

“Astute observational powers.” Jhez doesn’t back down.

“Would you like to discuss it?”

“Are you sure you want to?”

“You’re my friend.”

“How about we discuss those pills you’re pawning.”

“Which ones?”

Irritation flares in me and I lean into Jhez a fraction as I interject. “The ones that numb a Nightwalker from sensing a vampire.”

The silence presses against me like a mountain.

“Who gave them to you? I’ve known you for how long, Blue. You don’t pawn something unless you know exactly what it does. Good or ill. You knew they blocked the music, turned it off.”

His gaze flicks between the two of us. “Back up. Sensing a vampire. You can do that?”

Jhez and I look at each other in eerie synchronization. She curses under her breath and studies Blue. Her expletives aren’t colorful enough for my mood, but I am shockingly unable to think of anything appropriate.

Things aren’t looking up much. Does the drug keep other
lyche
from sensing the individual and recognizing their kinship? The same side effect that it has on a mutt? That would explain much about Soiphe’s murder. If she thought her companion simply human, and so did everyone else in the castle . . .

Why didn’t I ever put two and two together and realize Blue’s twisted musical “talent” was a sign of his parentage?

My head hurts. My chest does too, throbbing with a painful ache that steadily loosens and ebbs as the limo retraces its path to
Dragulhaven
. A part of me loathes the fact that I want nothing more than to curl up on the couch next to that damned
lyche
and feel his arm wrap around my shoulders. I have more backbone than this. Shouldn’t I be able to resist better? Reminding myself of the lies and manipulations has no effect on the sense of relief I feel as the pressure in my chest eases in gradual increments.

“Seriously. You two can
sense
a vampire?” We stare at him. “I’ve never known anyone who could do that before. Like, ever. I sure as hell can’t. I recognize them by their behaviors, just like every other Nightwalker I’ve known. And their music. It’s different.”

“Are you hearing yourself?
Their music is different.
” I purse my lips together, then suck the lower one between my teeth and chew on it.

He shakes his head, the halo of spikes not shifting despite his emphatic gesture. “I told you it blocked my music; I didn’t know what that would translate into for you.”

“Someone knew. Who supplied you with that drug?”

“You think it was deliberate? Isn’t that rather . . . paranoid?”

I swear he was going to say something else. When he’s agitated, he sometimes describes emotions with an amalgam of scents and colors and sounds. Most of the time, the similitude conveys his meaning clearly enough.

“Not so much as you might think,” I say as the limo eases to a halt.

Beyond the heavily tinted windows, the castle looms large and imposing. More like a safe haven than a prison, though. A shift in perspective, I guess. Despite Garthelle’s dislike for this place, despite the mass of
lyche
milling within it, each one a faint tingling along the periphery of my senses. Despite the lies. Even with those, I’m forced to admit that the
lyche
has been rather protective of us. Can’t discount his behavior the night of the party. A hundred other things he’s done since.

Garthelle is standing in the spacious foyer when we walk inside. Waiting, in that deceptively casual stance of his, hands in his pockets, head canted down toward the floor. When he raises his head, yellow gaze darting over us, Blue grinds to a halt and hisses in disapproval at us.

“Damn you both. I didn’t agree to this.”

“Welcome back,
mon noire
,
mon sanguine.
I take it your venture into the metro was a successful one.”

“More successful than you realize, Monsieur. We should discuss this in your office.” Jhez doesn’t pause, walks straight past him. I think she’s starting to learn her way around the place. Which is good.

Or not.

I follow after her, propelling Blue forward with a gentle hand against the center of his back. Garthelle’s gaze follows me, narrowing slightly. He turns and trails in my wake, silent as a specter.

Jhez must’ve been wandering around a bit in her spare time, because she leads us directly to the office suite she stayed in. She likes to know her surroundings, have any number of escape routes. Ordinarily I would do the same. My focus has been elsewhere, though. Which I don’t care for. I want to believe Garthelle has had our best interests, our safety, in mind all this time. Desperately want to. Because otherwise we’re sitting in a dark room full of pit vipers.

Blue stops just inside the doorway despite the weight of my hand against his back. Garthelle bumps into me from behind, inhales sharply and twines an arm around my waist to steady me. Aura held in tight, but his energy still hums against mine, like low-level feedback. I have to fight against the urge to go limp and lean back into him.

Stiffening my spine and clenching my free hand into a fist, I nudge Blue forward again. When he moves forward into the room, I lower my hand and grip Garthelle’s. Give his fingers a gentle squeeze before prying him from me and twisting loose. I can’t deny the comforting sensation I gain from his presence, his close proximity. The few hours spent away were not the most pleasant ones I’ve experienced.

“So I gave you a psychotropic drug that inhibits your ability to sense vampires. Which you shouldn’t be able to do to begin with, mind you.” Blue is prattling as he perches on the edge of the couch. He looks ready to jump in any direction in search of escape if one of us even dares say “Boo.”

Not sure how he’s comfortable saying we shouldn’t be able to, when he does exactly that. In his own way, granted. All the same, I suspect that solidifies the label of “mutt” for him, once and for all. The Monsieur of York was right.

Garthelle pushes at the door with more force than necessary, and the slam makes all of us flinch. Except him. Someone’s feeling hostile. He has that air of leashed aggression about him that I recall all too well from the night I met him. And from earlier today, when we left
Dragulhaven
under less than stellar circumstances.

“Did you give Black the same drug as the sample we provided you from the murder scene? Who else have you given it to?” Garthelle strides toward the center of the room, ominous and imposing.

Wait. Is he suggesting that someone slipped Soiphe a psychotropic drug, and then slipped into her room? That’s what it sounds like to me. She wouldn’t have been able to distinguish friend from foe, unless the culprit was someone she recognized. If the guilty party was a stranger, she’d assume they were simply a human sent to feed on courtesy of her gracious host.

And partner in crime, so to speak. I just figured the person doped on the shit would’ve been the murderer. Not the victim.

“I’ve taken it myself.” Blue swallows, the visible motion almost audible in the ensuing silence.

“Because, the thing is,” Garthelle continues conversationally, “it’s no small matter when someone takes down a madame.” He comes to a halt in front of Blue, the feeble width of the coffee table all that stands between them. “And if it weren’t for the fact that Black let that drug wear off last night,
neither Black nor Jhez
would be here right now
.
”

Blue’s breathing becomes shallow, rapid. Like a rabbit, cornered by a feral alley cat.

I really, really don’t like it when I’m right. Not like this. That was just a theory I had, earlier, talking with Jhez. To hear him give it sound basis in fact, so casually, is more than frightening.

Garthelle leans down, braces his hands on the coffee table, hovering directly in front of Blue—whose eyes are so wide he looks like he’s the one tripping on a psychotropic drug.

Somehow, despite the weight and intensity of the
lyche’s
gaze, Blue’s attention slides toward me. The injury in his expression is almost palpable, and I flinch as if he reached out and slapped me. Garthelle tenses, body rigid momentarily, and glances over his shoulder at me.

“I did take them, Blue. That’s how I knew what they were doing to me. I just haven’t taken any since then.”

Garthelle studies me, returns to scrutinizing my friend. He straightens, and Blue flinches back into the couch in a sudden lurch. “Tell me who gave you the drugs.” The drugs that killed Soiphe. That almost dethroned the Monsieur of York, too.

“It’s not someone I deal with regularly. Black’s problem isn’t one that many Nightwalkers contend with very often, though it does happen.”

“A name, young man,” Garthelle prompts impatiently, turning toward me. His eyes flash, his shoulders twitch.

“Eldreth Farken.”

Garthelle inhales sharply and turns, observing Blue from the corner of his eye. “You’re sure about that?”

Blue nods, a stiff, sharp movement. His hands clench into fists against the cushions. “You don’t need to beat the truth out of me any further, vampire. I’ve given it to you.”

Leonard’s attention twitches back toward me, a frown pulling the corner of his mouth.

I give a subtle shake of my head.
Not now.
It’s obvious Blue is going into sensory overload. No wonder he doesn’t like being around vampires. All of them, without exception, are intense in one fashion or another. It must be disorienting and painful for him.

“You deal with this man often enough to trust that the drugs he gives you are what he says they are?” Jhez asks, leaning her folded arms on the back of the nearby armchair.

Blue turns to look at her reluctantly, stealing furtive glances at Garthelle the entire time. “Yes.”

“Right. Well obviously he’s not a man. Am I right, Monsieur? Not human?”

“Indeed. He’s one of Alpha circle’s upper echelon. One of the oldest, strongest
lyche
around.”

Blue shakes his head and clamps his hands over his ears. “I’ve felt enough. Don’t involve me in this any further.”

“He’s right, Jhez. Leave off.” My voice sounds strained, even to my own ears.

Leonard’s frown deepens and he takes a step toward me. With a curt shake of my head, I sidestep his approach and sink onto the couch beside Blue, draping an arm over his shoulders.

His body immediately relaxes, and though he remains hunched in an almost fetal position, he leans into me. I cup my hand over his and pull his head against my chest, pressing my lips to his hair.

He starts humming, strains of the same melody he wrote for me years ago. I squeeze my eyes shut against the burning sensation, the stinging threat of unshed tears. No matter what, my brother.

When I sit back in the couch, Blue curls up against my side, tucking his thin, gangly legs up beneath him. I still don’t know how he’s managed to survive as long as he has, living on the streets. It defies all logic.

Just like everything else about Blue, I guess. I glance up at Jhez to find her staring intently at her hands. Oh good. She feels as guilty as I do. Serves us both right, doesn’t it.

Leonard hasn’t moved, his back still to the couch.

The energy of his aura is withdrawn. Usually it’s reaching out toward me, constantly seeking. Ever since we walked into the foyer, though, it’s been as if he’s deliberately pulling away, receding by strength of will alone. Which only serves to fuel my irritation further.

Blue is my friend. My Bruise Brother, as Jhez is so fond of saying. That something almost changed that causes me a great deal of pain. And pisses me off, too. Leonard can just . . . be jealous, if that’s what his issue is. Though I highly doubt it. Something else is going on.