Blood Kin (21 page)

“Dead,” Rodney butted in. “Nobody knows anything. Could be us there … dead.”

I guessed that the two of them couldn’t afford safer lodging, studying their clean, but shabby clothing. Transients, drifters, musicians the world over.

“Drugs?” I ventured a guess.

“Maybe with this guy,” John said. “Didn’t know him. Saw him earlier, though, over at the park. We jammed a bit.”

Rodney’s head shook in vehemence. “Not in Sidney’s case.”

“Sidney?” I asked.

Before either Rodney or John answered, Rhys nudged me. “I’m going to take a look around.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay here,” I said.

“Right then.” He skirted the small group of people huddled at the corner lamppost, and crossed the street. I turned back to Rodney and John, who seemed to be conducting a wordless conversation, all eyebrows and forehead furrows. Rodney’s mouth suddenly dipped on one side, slanting disapproval. John tucked his hands in his jeans’ pockets, shoulders hunched.

“Didn’t know the first guy,” John said. “Some older guy, regular during spring and summer, they said. This new dead guy was a visitor, too. But Sidney, though—”

“Sidney,” I cut in to clarify, “Sidney was …?”

“Yeah, right. We go way back. I’ve known him—”

“Knew,” interrupted Rodney softly.

“Knew,” John repeated, tossing a worried glance at his friend. “Sidney was a good guy. Clean. Sober. He had one of those twenty-year chips.”

“Twenty-year chips?” I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“AA. He always kept it in his right pocket. His lucky charm. Used to say it reminded him of where he’d been.” John shuffled his feet and looked down at the ground. “He wasn’t a bad guy, miss.” John raised his head and looked directly at me, the first time since we’d begun to talk. His eyes were a lovely clear hazel green, no sign of drugs or
alcohol abuse in him. In fact, neither of them smelled or felt as if they were users. “He played the clarinet,” explained John. “In his heyday, he was in an orchestra. Back when dance clubs meant suits and fancy dresses. Fell to the drink in the late seventies, Sidney told me. Disco drove him to drink.”

I held my burst of laughter inside as I realized that John was dead serious. He smiled at me, a sheepish look on his face.

“Oh, I know what it sounds like. Dumb thing to say, but for Sidney, it was the honest truth. He drank himself out of a family, home and nearly out of his music. Rodney ’n me found him a couple of years ago over near Simon Fraser, playing for coins and damn well determined to stay sober. Three of us sort of made an informal trio. We’d meet up here for the music, then go our separate ways until the next time. Sidney worked part-time up at the Tim Hortons and at a couple of the hotels when they needed labor. He made enough to live in a small place.”

“So why was he in the hostel?” I found myself getting more and more curious. Not that any of this had anything to do with me, but it was certainly keeping me from dwelling on my own situation. Besides, I liked these guys. Many of my own family were musicians, and despite my banter with Rhys earlier, music did have a more positive association than the Sidhe. I’d enjoyed clubbing in London and going to as many folk music festivals as I could find during my time in England. There was very little music I didn’t enjoy.

“Old times’ sake,” Rodney replied. “He liked staying here during the festivals instead of traveling back and forth from Burnaby.”

“So what do you think killed him?” The question burst out of me before I could temper it. “Sorry, I mean …”

“No worries, miss,” John said. “I know you’re just interested. Not creepy ghoulish like them over there.” He nodded his head, indicating four obnoxious tourists at the corner. They’d pushed past the small group of the homeless and were trying to crowd even closer to where the men barred the door of the hostel, self-policing, it seemed, until the officials could arrive. One of the women was yelling at the other one to get a picture already.

I sighed. “Tourists.”

“Yeah, they’re a lot of trouble, even though they give good coin.” John laughed, showing even white teeth. His eyes crinkled in amusement as he took a proper good look at me. “You’re not from around here, but you’re not a tourist.”

I studied him back, wondering where that insight had come from. “Nope, I don’t live here now, but my family owns a place here. They’ve got some land up country a ways. Been there a while.”

“I figured something like that,” he said. “I’ll answer your question.”

“About Sidney?”

“Yup. Not drugs. Not drink. Maybe just old age.” Rodney guffawed at this.

“You don’t think so?” I asked.

“If it’s just old age,” he replied, “then why all the fuss?” He waved a hand toward the crowd. “It’s only another old, dead homeless guy, nothing for real people to worry about. Why call in the Horsemen?”

“They’ve called in the Mounties?” I asked to see what they knew. So far, nothing I’d heard led me to believe the auspices of the RCMP would be needed. That said, I had to
admit to myself that I didn’t have much of an idea of what
would
constitute a case needing said force. The RCMP often had jurisdiction when there was no local police, but that wasn’t the case here. Vancouver had a police force. It seemed odd to me. Perhaps the police knew a hell of lot more than was being said publicly.

Rodney scowled. “That’s what I heard. Sidney would’ve liked it, though—bringing in the Horsemen for him.”

“Maybe they do suspect a drugs case,” I said. “Otherwise, why bring in the RCMP?”

“That, dear cousin, is exactly why I’m here.”

I whirled to see Gareth Evans Kelly behind me in his everyday uniform, a twinkle in his deep blue eyes—a color very close to the blue of his tie.

“W
HAT THE
—”

“Gareth!” Rhys, who’d just walked up beside me, ignored my splutters and swept the man up in a hug. “It’s been how long?”

“Much too, Rhys,” Gareth answered with a smile. “Why are you two here? I mean, last time I saw you, Keira, you were in London, partying up a storm. What was that—eight, nine years ago?”

“Long story, neph—um, cousin,” I stumbled on the words, remembering the two human men beside us. It wouldn’t do to call Gareth nephew, though that’s what he was, despite the fact that he was at least three decades older than me and looked it with his silvering hair (courtesy of discreet dye jobs in order to look more mature). He was, after all, my brother’s son. “So you’re here about this?” I waved over at the crowd.

“I am,” he replied. “Was all nice and snug in bed yesterday when I got the call that there’d been another death in the same place. I hightailed it here. Been talking to people since about four or so, haven’t even settled in somewhere to stay.” He sighed in exasperation. “Great folks the local PD, but sometimes, when it’s these guys”—he motioned toward the obvious residents of the hostel—“the communication isn’t exactly the best. Folks tend to respect this uniform, even though it’s not the serge. Was hoping I’d get more out of
people, though. No one seems to have seen anything.”

“So why did the Vancouver PD bring you all in, then?” I asked. At least now, I could get an answer from the Horseman’s mouth.

Gareth looked pointedly at me. Oh, yeah, civilians next to us.

“Why don’t I catch up to you later? I need to do some more work. You at the condo?”

“Yes,” Rhys said. “Do you need a place to crash or you going back to your place in North Van?”

“I’d love to not have to drive back and forth during the investigation. It’s not horribly far, but plenty painful in rush hour, especially with all the damned construction on the bridges. I’ll go on over to the condo when I’m done here.”

I turned to the musicians. “John, Rodney. Thank you for putting up with me and my questions.” The two men nodded.

“Our pleasure, miss,” John tipped an imaginary hat, his eyes twinkling. “I believe we’ll be going now.” They turned in unison and walked away.

“T
HEN WHAT
do you think we should do, Keira?”

Tucker and I stood at the windows, taking in the spectacular view from the penthouse. The city’s lights began to blink on as the evening skies darkened. Rhys had disappeared, probably to his bedroom. I didn’t blame him. Our innocuous chat was starting to become a Kelly confrontation and that wasn’t ever comfortable for the spectators, even if they themselves were Kellys. Rhys knew better than to stick around. Tucker and I rarely butted heads, but when we did …

“The more I think on this, the more I hate the fact that
Daffyd and some unknown Sidhe are wandering around Vancouver. We need to keep searching.”

“For pity’s sake, Keira, don’t get your knickers in a twist. And be quiet, you’ll wake Adam and Niko. They went back for a nap.” Tucker was near growling at this point, more than frustrated, he was pissed off at me. “Daffyd may be just this side of naive, but he’s an adult—in fact, he’s centuries old—more than capable of making his own damned decisions and doing whatever the hell he damn well pleases. If he wants to vanish and wander the city, he can. We’re not his jailers, or his babysitters. He asked neither for Sanctuary nor companionship. You’ve got to cut him some slack, sis.”

“I do have some responsibility here, Tucker.”

“Right. If he’s gotten himself into trouble, then we’ll go get him out. It’s our way.”

“We have to find him first. Plus,” I added, “that’s not the only thing I’m worried about. He’s a Sidhe, dear brother, and lives off the energy of humans. Setting him loose in a city of nearly six hundred thousand people? It’s like releasing a hungry lion in a herd of staked deer. Do you want to be responsible for that? Some unknown person’s death, because we couldn’t keep an eye on one Sidhe?”

“Oh, for …” Tucker took a deep breath before he continued. “Keira, Daffyd—your family on that side—are Seelie Court. Draining humans is
not
what they do.”

“Then how about what happened in Texas, with what he did to the men Pete Garza would bring him? What he did to Adam?” I had more or less accepted, under the circumstances, Daffyd’s actions, but it wasn’t as if I could condone him doing the same thing here. And evidence was mounting that someone was up to no good—whether Daffyd or the mystery Sidhe.

Tucker’s tone gentled. “You really don’t get it, do you?” He seemed genuinely puzzled. “C’mon, let’s go sit down. I think I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

“Explaining?” Was every person in my family keeping secrets? I let my brother lead me over to the kitchen table. He went to the cupboard and pulled out a bag of chips and a fresh jar of salsa, then grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge. I smiled despite myself. Even in Canada, Kelly boys could always find Texas-style food.

“What are you trying to tell me, Tucker?” I asked as I watched him scoop up some salsa and begin to chow down. “That what Daffyd and his companions did in Texas was different? That accepting humans who were given as payment—appeasement—from someone who held their lives as less valuable than a cockroach doesn’t count?” I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them, full of confusion, anger and the need to go back out to talk to Gareth, to somehow make sense of the emotions warring inside of me. I’d promised Tucker I’d hear him out, though, so I needed to get a grip.

“I don’t know what Daffyd said to you, or how he explained the lives he took recently, Keira, but his being in Texas—”

“Was because of me,” I interrupted. “Damn it, let me finish,” Tucker said. “You’re making this more difficult than it has to be.”

I bit my lip against the automatic sarcasm threatening to leap out of my mouth.

“Sidhe have to absorb energy to live. In their homeland, where you were born and used to live, they get much of it from the earth around them. It is Home, it sustains them. When they are taken from there for any length of time, they begin to fade.” My brother shook his head,
instinctively knowing that I was about to interrupt again. “Let me finish,” he repeated firmly.

I nodded and tried to pay attention. He washed a chip down with a swig of beer, then continued.

“I don’t condone what happened, but from what I know about your cousin, what I’ve seen of him so far, he only did what he did to survive. You were a
geas
, your well-being his imperative. I know you don’t like that, but it’s a fact. No one blames you or holds you responsible. It is what it is.”

I waited a moment to see if Tucker would continue. Before I spoke, I took a deep, calming breath. I didn’t want to start a shouting match. Tucker knew how much I felt the responsibility. “I know that what happened to Adam was a result of Daffyd reaching out blindly to a source of energy that sustained him. He’d had no idea. I’ve forgiven him for that.”

“But …” Tucker motioned for me to continue.

I bit my lip again, trying to choose my words carefully. “But … I lived among them, Tucker. I was a child, yes, but I remember the cruelty, the abandonment. They treated me—” My voice broke. I hated thinking about then, about …

Tucker reached over and put his arm around my shoulders. “That was a long time ago, sis, and you’re with us now.”

I nodded, fighting back tears, the old emotions welling up in me, past the walls I’d erected in front of them. “Damn it, Tucker. I hate this.”

“What?”

“Feeling like this. All this disruption—and Adam being Sidhe? I forgave him for not telling me. I get it, I do, intellectually, but—”

“Yeah, I know. I feel the same way about his revelation.
Niko’s still barely holding it together. They talked, but …” Tucker shook his head. “Honestly, Keira, if it hadn’t been for your relationship with Adam, he’d probably be a former vampire at this point.”

I could tell he was about as far from kidding as possible. “Yeah, I know,” I said. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate it. I’m not so sure of how this is all going to work out, either. I’m none too excited about Gigi coming into the mix in a couple of days.”

“Agreed,” Tucker said. “She doesn’t bother me so much as she does you, but damn.” He patted my arm and shot me a smile. “Don’t worry, sis, I’m here. Niko’s got your back, too. So does Rhys.”