Falling Apart (25 page)

Sil sat in the kitchen and let the homely atmosphere drape itself around his shoulders like an attempt at comfort. His demon sculled inside him, lazy after the surfeit of emotion, but he couldn't relax, even with the cosy kitchen, the smell of coffee and toast wafting, with just a hint of second-hand dog biscuits, courtesy of the sleepily exuding Labrador on the mat.

The tug of Jessica's connection was almost constant now, like a thread drawing ever tighter between them; he could almost feel her at the other end.
Gradually, so gradually, she is losing everything
 …
Her certainties are no longer sure, and yet she endures
 … He held out a hand, imagining her at the tips of his fingers; randomly impressionistic, like a synaesthetic Picasso after a night on magic mushrooms – energetic hair overlaid with her wicked smile and, beneath it all in a wild dance, that luscious body, curves and vanilla and excitement.

He sighed and ran his tongue over fangs that nipped at his lips.
Oh, Jessie. My predicament is purely physical; yours runs through your soul and your heart, and yet both of us are lost.
But he, at least, had hope. He had Zan. The vampire who had been with him through so much, whose analytical mind and steadfast nature would find a way out of a certain death sentence if anyone could. And Jess? She had only herself, a devoted but impractical for all useful purposes, family, and Liam. No magic, no glamour at her disposal, just paperclips and chaos. That crazy way she had of seeing hope and answers in the unfathomable depths, when all seemed lost.
Unionised zombies?
Sil let out a small laugh, which raised the dog's head for a moment.
Genius. Raise their profile and the majority of the human population will rush to their defence – no-one wants their sewers to clog or their electrical power to cease. They just needed a presence, to stop being the backroom boys that nobody takes any notice of.

The idea rammed into his mind so quickly that he jumped to his feet to dispel the energy and prevent it from blowing his head off.
Suddenly power was singing in his veins again; he shrugged off the despondency that had weighted him down like a metal jacket these past weeks, and the lightness of hope drove his demon into a whirling frenzy deep in his chest.
An idea.

A few days later and Dad wasn't exactly up and dancing, but he was showing signs of being stronger, and discharge was definitely imminent.

‘Is
he
still at the farm?' my mother asked from the corner of her mouth, like a spymaster in training. ‘I mean, he's welcome to stay, of course, but your father'—a quick glance over her shoulder—‘there are going to be doctors and people coming and going and we can't … it might not be safe.'

I gave her a tight smile. All I could see was that file of letters she'd held from me. All that knowledge about Rune, everything I was, and my mother had hidden it away and not intended me to find out until she was dead and gone and didn't have to deal with the fallout. ‘I'll think of something.'

‘Are you all right, dear?' A hand on my arm that I nearly shook off.

‘I'm dealing with things,' I said. ‘A lot of things.'

My mother knew me well. Better, probably, than I understood. Her eyes were shrewd and there was an unfamiliar element in her voice now. ‘Jessica. Just remember, everything we did, your father and I, it was always to keep you safe. That's all we ever wanted, you to be safe.' Her hand travelled down until it rested on mine. ‘And your Sil wants that too, I know it. Please, look after each other.'

I nodded. There was a strange heavy sensation near my heart and a tiny voice whispering in my ear that
this
was my real mother. Rune might have given birth to me, might have written me nice letters about her hopes and fears for me, might even have
cared
, but this woman had sat up at night with me while I cried myself to sleep over dying kittens and lost boyfriends.

My heart hurt suddenly at the thought of these two people worrying so much about me. ‘If we ever get him out of your house, Mum, I promise that I will never let him out of my sight again.'

She smiled now, and I wasn't sure if it was because of what I'd said, or because I'd underlined it with her real title. ‘Good. Love isn't always easy, dear.' A glance over at the bed. ‘I should know: I married your father.'

We smiled a complicitous smile at the waywardness of men, although to my knowledge my father had never gone berserk and bitten his way through a crowd. He had, apparently, been a terror with thrown board rubbers though. I left the hospital and headed for the office.

‘Who are you?' Liam didn't even turn around as I came in.

‘The person with arcane knowledge of the workings of the petty cash system.' I sat at my desk. ‘Anything happening?'

‘Zan is coming over. He has, apparently, got “issues of concern”, but then Zan can get concerned over the quality of the paper they print bus tickets on, so I shouldn't worry too much about that.'

‘Oh good. Something I don't have to worry about, that's a first. Why haven't you made me a coffee?'

Liam sniffed and began gathering mugs. Mine, I noticed, had been rinsed out and had lost the patina of coffee-aging that had given anything contained in the mug a character all of its own. And a taste like Bovril. ‘It's been a couple of days. I didn't think you were coming back. I was
this
close to getting a nice matching set of bone china, with birds on. And Belgian chocolate cookies, which are, quite frankly, wasted on you. You've got a palate like a blacksmith's apron.'

I ignored Liam's impression of an oppressed mass and sat down at my computer, where the familiarity of the Tracker program, the uneven stacks of paper threatening to overflow the desk and the smell of coffee only slightly undercut by the odour of damp carpet, soothed my frazzled nerves. Even the opposing neatness of Liam's corner of the room had its own kind of unchaotic reassurance to offer, and I felt a small pang, realising that this place was far more home to me than almost anywhere else, certainly more than the palatially chilly rooms of Zan's house.

And then, I couldn't not say it any longer. ‘So, have you told them yet? At Head Office?'

The clattering in the kitchen paused. ‘Told them what?' And then the disruption of the Emergency Biscuit bucket – he knew exactly what I meant and was dealing with it in his own, particular way. His head appeared back around the office door, followed shortly afterwards by a plate of chocolate digestives. ‘No.'

‘Liam … I understand. Really, I do. And, quite honestly, you're welcome to it, although I would recommend that you get some cheap plastic overtrousers and a rather more robust approach to innards before you take over.' My face was stiff; I could feel my expression setting into what I was hoping was ‘good-natured acceptance', although felt rather more like ‘rigor mortis'. ‘I've decided I'm going to go and work with the zom— err … the Ambulatory Deceased.'

Liam plonked the plate down on the middle of my desk. ‘As what? Professional Sticker-Onner?'

‘I'll think of something. PR, that sort of thing.'

Liam snorted. ‘Don't be – and I am probably going to regret saying this – bloody stupid. This job is
you
, Jess, the vamps and the politics and the apologising; you're hardly going to get much action working for a bunch of guys with thumbs so opposable they fight each other.'

Hope swooped on my heart like a falcon on a mouse. ‘You need the job, Liam, you said so.'

He pursed his mouth around a biscuit. ‘Not behind your back, Jessie. If I do it, I do it with your blessing. I wait until you're out before I download
Doctor Who,
I wouldn't wait until you were out and then take your job.'

A polite cough from the doorway. ‘I do hope I am not intruding on what could be, despite its volume, a private conversation.'

‘Hello, Zan.' I didn't look at him. ‘To what do we owe what I am absolutely not going to call a pleasure?'

‘I have an offer to make. From what I overheard, it may be considered apposite.'

Now I did look at him. There seemed to be something about him today, something almost
energetic,
which was not a word I'd normally associate with Zan. ‘Unless you are about to offer me a lifetime's supply of chocolate biscuits, Zan, I really don't think you've got anything I want.'

Zan stepped forward. His clothes contrasted with Liam's chain-store specials, pale creamy colours that made his skin look even more bloodless than usual. ‘On the contrary,' he said. ‘Liam has told me about your … difficulties with York Council, and his hopes for his own future. And you were just telling most of the neighbourhood your feelings on the subject.'

I looked from the vampire to Liam. ‘Have you been indulging in casual chit chat with the opposition again? I am cutting your biscuit ration and you can say goodbye to me signing the petty cash receipts next time you buy more duct tape than
any
person can safely use to fix piping.'

‘He's also told me that it's really him running York, which you have managed to keep to yourself for quite some time, so I think we should listen to him.' Liam perched on the edge of my desk. ‘Go on, Zan.'

Zan was looking me straight in the eye. Since he seemed to regard making direct eye contact as only one step down from exchanging bodily fluids, I felt my heart speed up, and it wasn't with desire. ‘What is it?'

Zan sat down at Liam's desk, although I did notice that he checked the chair before he did so. ‘Jessica, I am going to ask something of you,' he said, turning those green-glass eyes on me again. ‘You made a promise, when you asked me to help Sil. You promised that you would pay whatever price I asked, and here and now is where I need it to be paid, without question or prevarication. Although,' he added, with a more everyday tone to his voice, ‘since I already know you, I am well prepared for a good deal of questioning and prevarication.'

My skin was prickling. ‘But you haven't helped him.'

An inclination of the head. ‘And yet, you must admit, I haven't killed him either.'

‘That is
not
the same thing!'

‘And there may … and I stress that, just
may
be a way.'

I sat up very straight. ‘How?'

An elegant eyebrow raised. ‘I want you.'

Liam stared. ‘No, sorry, if anyone's going to be making her life a misery, then that position is already taken by me.'

‘What do you mean, you want me?' I said, groping behind me until I felt the edge of my desk, so that I could lean against it. ‘Think very carefully before you answer this next question:
in what context
? Because I think I've had just about all the skank I can take for one lifetime, thank you very much.'

‘I have interviewed your “mother” quite extensively.' Zan gave the inverted commas extra inversion. ‘Her opinion of your character, your conduct during your school years, all lead me to think that, despite your rather'—he gazed around the office, clearly searching for a word that wouldn't prejudice me into beating him to death with the pencil sharpener—‘
original
approach to working methods, you would be an asset to Otherworld Affairs. Or, at least, a fairly useful member of the team. You could continue in your Liaison activities, just … from the other side, as it were.'

I opened and closed my mouth a few times.

‘If you're going to do that, at least shove a biscuit in,' Liam said at last. ‘What exactly are you trying to say, Zan? We're not good at long words here, although madam is cracking at anything with four letters in, as I think we might be about to find out.'

Zan sighed. ‘You must forgive me, I mean, I would
request
that you come and work for Otherworld Affairs, Jessica. Liam has led me to believe that your council is no longer satisfied with your work.'

I bared my teeth at Liam, who actually looked excited. ‘What he said. I mean, no pressure, Jess, but … no, actually, this is real pressure. If I press any harder you'll have me engraved on your back.'

‘And I believe your talents could be more efficiently used if you worked for us.'

‘What?' Yes, all right, I was going to need a job; preferably with an employer that didn't believe Monopoly money was legal tender, but, seriously? Working for
Zan
?

There was a momentary silence, which Liam broke. ‘There's logic to it, Jess,' he said. ‘If you think about it. Come clean about your demon dad, no more hiding, proper working conditions with holidays – a real office …'

‘But what about Sil?' I finally managed to stammer out. ‘What's going to happen to him?'

Zan gave a dismissive flick of his head.

‘Oh no you don't, you bastard …' I shot around my desk and put myself squarely in the vampire's eyeline so he couldn't avoid looking at me. ‘What are you planning?'

Suddenly Zan was standing. The office had become smaller, darker and was tinged with a hint of red light from his eyes. ‘I will not tell you.'

‘You're going to kill him, aren't you? Have all this over, sweep him away as though he'd never been, and, wallop, shove a demon's daughter and – and this really hasn't escaped me however hard you've tried to gloss over it – your
potential nemesis
into your office.'

‘
No
!' The vampire's voice wasn't loud, but the command it carried rippled through the office as though it tore holes in the air. ‘Jessica. If everything goes according to plan, he will not die. But in order for this plan to be put into place, in order for your lover to be saved, I need to know that you will do as I ask.'

The three of us stood in silence for a moment. My heart was making my ears pulse and there was a skim of sweat along my neck and down my back.
Work for Zan? But
 …
a fully funded office, proper holidays, regular hours and the kind of technology that Silicon Valley could only dream of?

‘I'll do it,' I said. ‘As long as Liam comes with me.'

Liam looked around the office and gave a dramatic sigh that barely covered his expression of relief and renewed hope. ‘First, Jessie, we should ask for relocation expenses. Then we should ask for a flamethrower.'