Salt and Iron (7 page)

“Hey, yeah. Sorry.” He’s not sure what he should be sorry for, but there’s probably something. “Crazy night last night, and I guess I slept in. Just saw your message.”

“Did you talk to Mom?”

He muffles his
no
by rubbing his face with his hand. “No,” he says again. “Literally just getting out of bed. What’s going on? You okay?”

“Oh, man, you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Uncle Abraham,” Abe says softly. “Mom says Uncle Abraham’s dead. Happened last night.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Mom says… Mom says it was an attack.”

“Wait, what? Uncle Abraham?”

“Yuko found him this morning. He and Dad were supposed to meet, but he didn’t show, so Yuko went looking for him. She said it….”

James leans forward in bed, elbows braced on knees, forehead in one hand.

“C’mon, Abe.”

“She said it looks supernatural. Not magic, though.”

“Sidhe?” James asks, feeling stupid. It’s the only other option. There
aren’t
any vamps in New Glamis County, and it’s the wrong season for werewolves. It’s either magic or sidhe, and if Yuko says it’s not magic….

“Yuko says not, but… but the thing is….” James hears Abe lick his lips. “Yuko said it was a fucking mess in there. If it was a human, if it was just a murder, it was… bad. It’s got to be sidhe. Or maybe the Thing.”

James feels sick. “Oh Jesus,” he whispers.

“Uncle Abraham’s room has roof access. A sidhe might have come in through there and got out and nobody would have heard anything.”

He doesn’t tell Abe that can’t be right. It’s not like he can say,
Oh, I was hanging out with Skinny Mary and the Baron last night, so it couldn’t have been their people. I’m sure I would have known.
Jesus. Bad enough he’s got this little drinking problem of his, and a boner for Gabe, and now he knows the worst is true about what he is. If it comes out that he’s a fixer, that’s one thing. An iron bolt through that hand and an Alaskan work camp in his future. But if it comes out that he’s a fixer and he’s been hanging out with the sidhe? Jesus. Won’t matter that Abe’s sidhe too. James is the only one who was unaccounted for last night. The last thing he needs to do is be pointing a finger at himself.

“Hey, uh, I gotta go,” Abe whispers. “Mom’s asking for me again. Listen, you okay?”

He nods, then remembers it’s a phone. “Yeah. Just kinda….”

“Taking it all in. I know. It’s bad.” Abe’s voice is soft. “I know we’re not close or anything, but we’re family, Jamie. If you… I mean….”

“Yeah. Thanks. And thanks for letting me know.”

“Okay.”

He hangs up and rubs his forehead for a minute. Then he hauls himself to his feet and pads out to the kitchen, to the little coffeemaker. He switches it on, stands staring at it while it burbles, dumps a little whiskey into the cup with the cream and the sugar, and then pours the coffee on top of it.

SOMEONE KNOCKS
on his door. He could go open it, but it’s probably Rob coming to tell him the news. He passes a hand over his sleep-squashed hair as if it’s going to make any difference and then calls, “It’s open,” and waits. It’s not Rob. It’s Gabe. He’d already forgotten Gabe was on his way.

Gabe’s pale. He hesitates at the threshold, like a monster who hasn’t been invited in. Then he comes through and closes the door behind him. His eyes are red and swollen, his nose too.

“Hey,” Gabe whispers. “Did, uh, did anybody tell you the news yet?”

“Just got it from Abe,” James says.

Gabe looks around the room like he’s seeking something, and he clasps and unclasps his hands before him. James frowns.

“You okay?” James asks quietly. “You look kinda messed up.”

It ought to be the other way around. James is blood with Uncle Abraham, not Gabe, but Gabe looks small and lost, he leaned out when he started doing fieldwork and now he’s swimming in a suit that’s too big for him. He looks like a child at a wedding who’s not sure what he ought to be doing or what he ought to have done. For a heartbeat he stands silent, looking at James. Then he shakes his head.

“I didn’t,” he blurts.

James blinks.

“Didn’t what?”

Gabe’s mouth twists. He rolls his shoulders like he’s working to free the words. “We both saw the card,” he says, almost accusatory. “I know what it looks like, but I didn’t do it. I didn’t.”

James hesitates before he answers. He’s never seen Gabe like this, so distressed he’s pulling at his fingers, rubbing hard at his hands. “What are you talking about? Why would I think…?”

“The card, the
card
. I….”

And he realizes with a jolt. Gabe had been
Death
in the cards, and Uncle Abraham had been trampled underfoot. Gabe must see him get it. He comes forward, hands open, palms out.

“I didn’t, Jamie. I swear I didn’t. You believe me, right?”

“Oh my God, of
course
,” he says, pushing off from the counter. “Of course I do. That’s insane. It’s stupid.”

“I swear I didn’t.”

“I know, Gabe. You don’t have to tell me.”

Gabe’s probably closer to Uncle Abraham than James is. Shouldn’t have been that way, but he and Uncle Abraham never had much in common, but Gabe plays chess and the old man liked a game once in a while.

“It’s what everybody’s saying in the halls. Those fucking cards, those
fucking
cards. I thought we were going to keep them out of sight. Everybody’s seen them.”

“Everybody?”

“Yeah, well.” Gabe glares at him. “It’s not like they were in the cage like they were supposed to be, were they?”

“Hey,” James says, starting forward. “Hey, I left them with my dad.”

“Yeah, didn’t put them in the evidence locker like you’re supposed to.”

“My dad is the head of the Firm, Gabe. He tells me to jump, I say, ‘How high?’”

“Maybe that’s your fucking problem,” Gabe shouts. “Maybe that’s why you’ve been such a fucking mess lately. Maybe that’s why you’ve been drunk for the last, what, week? Maybe more? We went for a burger and beer last night, and two hours later I left, and this morning you look like you slept in your clothes. How late did you stay? Closing time?”

“I stayed… I stayed as long as I fucking wanted to stay, okay, Gabe? And then I left with Brett, okay?” He says it because he wants Gabe to think he’s fucking her. He wants Gabe hurt and angry, even though there’s no reason for him to be hurt, and he’s already angry enough. “And then after that, I went and I had more drinks—”

“Just what you fucking needed!”

“—with Skinny Mary and Baron fucking Samedi!”

And that, finally, shuts Gabe up.

“YOU DID
what?” Gabe says quietly.

“You heard me.”

“No,” Gabe says. He shakes his head a little as he does. “No, I heard you say you were drinking with Skinny Mary and Baron Samedi last night, and I know you do dumb things sometimes, James, but I know you’re not a fucking idiot.”

James glares at him.

“What”—Gabe’s voice is soft—“were you thinking?”

“Not your fucking business.”

“Not my fucking business?” Gabe yells, surging forward, grabbing James by the shirt and shaking him. “Not my
fucking business
? You could have been kidnapped. You could have been poisoned. You could have been
turned
. Your uncle was murdered last night, maybe murdered by sidhe, and you were drinking with his killers? What the fuck is the matter with you? What the fuck is the
fucking matter with you, Jamie
?”

“I can’t
take
it anymore,” James screams back and knows the moment the words are out that he’s said too much. He gives Gabe a hard shove, and Gabe goes back a few steps. “I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

He sounds, even to himself, defeated.

“You gonna let me in? Or are you just gonna keep drinking ’til you do something so stupid it kills you?” Gabe asks quietly.

James smiles at the ground. It’s not a nice smile. “Maybe… I’d rather take option B,” he says.

“Too damn bad,” Gabe answers. “Either you tell me or I’m going to go to Abe, and I’m going to tell him everything you told me.”

James doesn’t mean to react like he does. His head comes up; he hears his breathing stutter and break. “No,” he says. “No, please. Look. I didn’t mean to go there. I… I was drunk, right? Really drunk. And tornado warning last night. So I couldn’t get home. I was going to sober up, but Brett said she’d drive me. But she’s….” He shrugs. “She’s a Dullahan.”

“Brett?” Gabe asks. “The bartender from the Gory Locks? She’s sidhe?” He shakes his head like he’s trying to get water out of his ears. “How… did you know?”

James shrugs and spreads his hands and shakes his head and sighs. “I-I knew before I got into the car with her, but I didn’t care. I just…. So anyway, she drove out to the old church near the Sweno place, and that’s where Skinny Mary and the Baron were. I don’t remember getting home, but that’s where I spent the night.”

Gabe’s still shaking his head, staring at James. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you go to them? Why did you stay? Why didn’t they kill you or turn you or something?”

James licks his lips. “Yeah. So. About that.” He looks at Gabe again. “I guess the sidhe don’t really care to spill family blood if they can avoid it.”

He shuts his mouth hard and looks at Gabe. And Gabe’s head comes up. He rocks back a little on his heels.

“Jamie,” he says softly, “what are you talking about?”

And now it’s out. He sighs. He rubs at his forehead. “Know how I get migraines?”

Gabe nods, eyes still wide.

“They’re not. Not migraines. I’m a, I mean, I can. I mean.” He sighs. “I’m a fucking fixer. I see where time is loose, and if I interact with it when it is loose, I fix it to some destiny. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. I just do. Can’t help it. And it’s been getting worse since I saw those cards, since I touched them. There’s something fucked up about them. I did something, and I don’t know what, and I couldn’t have stopped it and….” He gestures emptily, vaguely. “And we keep arresting witches and hunting down sidhe, and every one of them could be me, you know? ‘There but for the grace of God,’ right?”

“Jesus,” Gabe whispers. He sounds breathless, as if James had punched him in the chest. “Jesus, Jamie. How long?”

“Since I was a kid.”

Gabe exhales. He passes a hand over his face. “Christ,” he whispers, and James has a moment of wondering if Gabe is going to break for the door or start shouting or something, if this is it, and the grace he’s been treading on will be finally yanked out from under him. “No wonder you drink,” he whispers.

James laughs softly; it surprises him. “Not enough anymore. Nothing’s enough anymore. Not since the cards.”

Gabe nods. “Hey, uh,” he starts, then stops. “Hey, um, it’s Gabriel Marcus Antonio Marquez. Full, true name. All of it.”

It’s like a blow. James lurches back. “What the
hell
, Gabe?” he shouts.

Gabe’s mouth twists up into a half smile. “I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he says. “Now you’ve got something you can hold over me, if I ever try to hold that over you.”

James stares at him. “No, I didn’t want to know,” he whispers. He shakes his head. “Gabe, I didn’t want to know. You should never have told me. You don’t know what I am. You don’t know anything about me. What if I used that? What if I made you do things?”

Gabe’s smile is easing, settling, more himself, less fear. “Listen to yourself,” he says. “I’m not the one who’s scared of you.”

James takes a deep breath and lets it out in a kind of laugh. He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he admits. He sighs, rubs his face with his hands. “I don’t want to be a fuck-up anymore, you know, Gabe? I just want it to go away. I want it to go away and it won’t, and I can’t fucking stand it anymore.” He looks down at his hands again. They’re shaking. “Never told anybody before. Please don’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t, but you should. You can’t keep this a secret. Seriously. Your folks should know.”

“No,” James says, straightening up and rubbing his face with his sleeve. “No, they can’t know. They’d be so disappointed. They’d be so angry.”

“They’re your
family
.”

He nods, frowning. “Yeah. That’s
why
.”

Gabe laughs a little. “It’s them too, you know. I mean, these things are supposed to run in families. You ever think that maybe one of your parents had to go through this too?”

He exhales. The fact is, no, he hadn’t thought of it.

“Or maybe even Abe?”

Abe, the perfect son. Maybe not so perfect. Maybe trying hard to keep a secret. “Jesus,” he whispers. He rubs a hand through his hair and then over his face, wiping away the tear marks and the salt. “No. I never did.”

“Maybe you’re not the only one. I know you think you’re a screwup, James, but maybe you’re not.”

He draws in a big breath, and something unsticks in his chest. “Thanks,” he whispers.

Gabe nods.

“You should go talk to them now, before you talk yourself out of it,” Gabe says. He grins. “I’ll keep my phone on. Call me afterward, okay? Tell me how it goes.”

He nods again, head ringing still, from the hangover and the stress and now the crying. He swallows noisily.

“Afterward you’re going to wonder why you waited so long. You know that, right?”

“Okay,” he whispers. He sighs up at the ceiling. “First Uncle Abraham and now this,” he says and shakes his head. “God. It’s going to be a hell of a day to be a van Helsing.”

HE GOES
up to see his dad. Abraham is in his private office, the office James played in as a child. Heavy desk in the middle, the portraits on the wall, the wood paneling that hides a multitude of doors and safes and passages. He and Abe spent a lot of their childhood here, underfoot during the day, running around, watching the small TV at night, sleeping on the couch while the business of the Firm went on around them. It’s been a long time since he was here and he noticed those things. And a long time since he was here and he wasn’t totally drunk.