The Key to Starveldt (19 page)

‘Nice,’ said Solace, smiling. ‘So, in your opinion, this explains Manx’s new hat?’

Electra snorted. ‘
Nothing
explains Manx’s hat.’ Then she sighed, half affectionate, half angry. ‘He’s still drunk, you know that? The idiot kept going even after Jess and I went to bed. I’m not sure he’s even slept. If he gets really drunk, he tries to shapeshift – it burns the alcohol, he thinks, and then everything is easier to deal with as a cat. Then, when he feels a bit better, he changes back again. It’s hard to change, though, if he’s drunk. It doesn’t always work.’

‘Oh.’ Solace didn’t know quite what to say. Sometimes, it was hard to remember how long her friends had known one another before she showed up and increased the weirdness quotient in their lives via the addition of Deadly Vampire Hijinks. Before the warehouse burned, she’d shared a mattress with Manx, and though it had only ever been a platonic, pragmatic arrangement, it still made her feel she understood him better than she evidently did. How could she reconcile the current, shambling Manx with the man who’d argued so eloquently with Sylvia only a day ago about life, the universe and everything? It was no easier than trying to understand her own contradictions.

Electra smiled sadly, as though sensing her thoughts. ‘He gets strange, sometimes. Not depressed. Just sort of dumb and loud and in-the-moment, you know. What’s the word for it? Boisterous. Like a kid. A
big
kid. But then, he’s spent most of his life being careful, looking out for other people – for me, mostly. So I guess he’s earned the right to be stupid now and then.’ She rubbed her neck. ‘I just wish he’d take better care of himself, is all.’

‘He’s lucky to have you,’ said Solace – then blushed furiously. ‘I mean, not to
have
you, in the sense of
having you
, but just, you know, to have you in his corner. Looking out for him. He’s a good guy.’

‘Yeah.’ Electra grinned. Though as messy and unkempt as the rest of them, her smile kept her beautiful. ‘We know a few of those. Lucky us, hey?’

‘Yeah,’ said Solace, cheered. Her eyes found Evan and, just for a moment, she felt her burdens lift. ‘Lucky.’

T
he bar was called the Heart of Mischief, proclaimed above the door, not only in letters, but also by the image of a glee-faced girl of twelve or thirteen smiling at the bloody heart cupped in her hands. Nestled between a raised platform – a boxing ring, Solace guessed – and a colourful cluster of market stalls, the building was two storeys tall and faced with faded red stone. Loud music issued from the door and windows, thumping with a familiar synthetic base that twitched in her already shaky pulse.

As they entered, she moved alongside Evan. Though the vision of Harper had been brief, they were able to navigate the interior twists and turns with relative certainty, finding their way to a back room sequestered from the main spaces by several densely populated hallways. At the threshold, they stopped and stared, the others thronging behind them.

The room was panelled with black wood and upholstered in plush reds. Luminous bottles of strange liqueurs glinted behind the small bar like gems in a treasure casket. At any other time, it would have been fascinating. Behind her, Solace heard Laine and Paige suck in breath.

Harper had taken up residence on the floor – to the obvious distaste of the room’s other occupants, all of whom were giving him a wide berth. He was half propped against the base of the bar, his neck lolling at an uncomfortable angle. An amphora of
jin’sa
rested loosely in his left hand, while an empty cup lay upside-down on the carpet. Though his skin was unmarked, there were numerous scorch marks on his clothes, including a fist-sized hole in his shirt. His eyelids flickered weakly, but otherwise he didn’t acknowledge their presence. Her friend looked like a wreck, and Solace felt something in her twist. The hole in his shirt was directly above his heart.
He tried to burn it out.

‘Harper!’

Rushing forwards, Paige crouched at his side, all wide eyes and frantic hands. Setting the cup and amphora aside, she inserted a slender arm around the back of his neck and tried to lift him up. Jolted from inaction, Manx and Evan moved to help, lifting Harper at Paige’s behest while the others stood uselessly by, uncertain of what to say or do. As Laine moved into her line of sight, Solace was struck by the powerful realisation that although most of them understood why Harper was imploding, only she and Evan knew how communal the knowledge was. Fiercely, she swallowed the urge to set things straight for the others.
It’s not my place to say.

After draping one of Harper’s arms over each of their shoulders, Evan and Manx hauled him forwards. Harper’s feet moved, but that was it: only his friends were keeping him upright. Mutely, Solace and the others stood aside and let them through. Paige was first to follow, then Laine. Jess swapped a glance with Electra before turning to Solace. Her blue eyes were hard.

‘You know, don’t you.’ It wasn’t a question.

Throat dry, Solace nodded. ‘I can’t –’

Jess cut her off. ‘Don’t, then. I might want to know, but that doesn’t mean I’ve a right to ask. He’s our friend. They’re all our friends, and that’s all that matters. So I’ve only got one question.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Will they be all right?’

Solace let out a breath she didn’t remember holding. In that moment, she loved Jess. ‘It’s been a long time coming, but yes. I think they’ll cope.’

An expression of intense relief crossed the seer’s face. ‘Good.’ She straightened. ‘Come on, then. They’re getting ahead of us.’

With ceremonial unkindness, Evan tipped a bucket of icy water over Harper’s head, watching as his friend spluttered into consciousness.

‘Welcome back,’ he said, ignoring the look of absolute disgust with which Paige was endeavouring to skewer him. Admittedly, he’d lied about his intended approach when he’d asked her to find the water, but as a consummate expert in the art of inebriation, he knew that Harper needed the iron hand more than the velvet glove. Besides, it was no worse than what he’d already put himself through.

Solace raised an eyebrow, jacketed arms crossed against her chest. ‘Was that strictly necessary?’

Evan crouched by Harper’s side. ‘Hey, it’s the belladonna method. Kill or cure.’

Paige gave an angry snort. ‘Some cure. You should’ve studied medicine. I hear drowning is a pretty popular technique among crazy people.’

Evan felt his irritation flare. As deeply as he felt for Paige, the ambient slew of grief, guilt and shame that saturated Harper was setting him on edge, to say nothing of his physical nausea.

When Paige began to tap her foot, he snapped. ‘Look, there’s a difference between drinking for pleasure and drinking for oblivion, and he’s been doing the latter. Right? And, as I happen to know a bit about grog-and-girl-induced idiocy, it would be just super if you’d
shut the hell up
for once. Please. With a cherry on.’

Harper groaned. They’d managed to get him away from the Heart of Mischief, but only as far as the boxing ring next door. Helping Harper to sit up, Evan leaned in close by his friend’s ear, only dimly aware of the others arguing over his head. ‘You need to be sick?’

Harper grunted assent.

‘Right now?’

Another grunt, more urgent. Evan grimaced, tasting the wave of nausea rippling upwards through Harper’s throat. Ever since they’d entered the Rookery, his empathy had been growing stronger, churning through him at odd moments with enough strength to leave his own emotions in turmoil. It was like scrolling constantly through the AM radio band: mostly static, but punctuated by sudden clear flares of other people’s opinions. Noisy and startling as this was, he’d been only too happy to drink himself into insensibility, but now he wondered if he could ever justify such logic again. As Harper’s need to retch became all-consuming, Evan helped his friend to kneel and tried to tell himself that his own recent drunkenness was different to Harper’s.
I just wanted to clear my head, not try for a total wipeout. Didn’t I
?

Harper gagged, shuddered, and threw up. Evan concentrated on holding Harper steady while keeping his own stomach down. The sharp, acid smell of vomit was causing his gorge to rise. Clamping his jaw shut, he stubbornly hung on to both his breakfast and convictions.
Totally different.

‘More water,’ he said out loud, hoping someone was listening. ‘For when he’s done, this time. And a cloth.’

‘Want that in a bucket, too?’ Paige snarked, but before he could offer a retort, she’d hurried off to the bar, skinny arms wrapped around her slender ribs.
Too small, that girl
, he found himself thinking. An uncomfortable nugget of pity lodged in his chest.
It’s like she’s scared of existing.

Solace chose that moment to kneel opposite him.

‘I’m used to it,’ she said, in answer to his unvoiced question. Her black eyes flicked from his face to Harper and back again, dark as drops of ink. ‘Food allergies, you know. That night at the Gadfly was the first time I’d ever been sick on my own terms. Sort of a weird personal best.’

Though her tone was light, Evan was oddly pleased to note that she kept one hand on Harper’s other shoulder, pale and comforting. In a strange way, her composure reminded him of Jess.

‘Look.’ The vampire nodded at their patient. Harper’s eyes were closed. Momentarily at least, he seemed done with being sick. Held up only by their hands, he swayed like a heavy, inebriated windsock. ‘He needs to lie down. Sleep it off.’

‘Agreed.’

‘We could carry him back to the rooms, but –’ She broke off, falling silent as Paige returned with a plastic bottle of water and a clean green dishcloth. Trying not to look at the colourful splatter between her and Harper, she handed both items to Solace, sparing only a grudging glance for Evan.

‘Who’s going to clean this up, then?’

All three turned. A massive man with blue-black skin, mechanical arms and twin swords strapped to his back had approached their group, frowning. Evan felt himself sway. Catching sight of his expression, the man blinked and smiled, which rendered him only slightly less intimidating.

‘It’s all right, lad. I won’t bite. I’m a guard here, one of Liluye’s. I work with Sylvia. You can call me Knox.’

‘Oh. Right.’ Somewhat uselessly, Evan gestured at Harper. ‘He’s, um, had a bit too much. And we’re helping.’

‘So I can see.’

Though there was nothing menacing in the guard’s tone, Paige remained fixated on the gleaming pistons of his metal arms, visibly uncertain of how to clean vomit from grass.

‘I can borrow a mop –’

Knox shook his head, forestalling comment. Evan wondered whether Liluye was having them followed, and decided she probably was.
It’s not as if we’ve demonstrated any notable ability to stay out of trouble.

‘That won’t be necessary. I’ll see it’s taken care of. Until then, perhaps I can help with your friend?’

‘Our rooms,’ Solace said, getting in a split second ahead of Evan. ‘If you could take him back –’

Knox inclined his head. ‘Of course. Would any of you care to accompany him?’

Instantly, Paige stood. ‘Me. I will.’ She glared at Laine. ‘
Not
her.’

The Goth girl paled. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ she said softly.

Evan felt another wave of emotion ripple through him – not from Harper, but Laine. Although unable to determine her specific thoughts, he felt her sadness, tinged uncomfortably with guilt, relief and heartache. As her eyes sought his, he dropped his gaze.
What does she want from me, anyway? What did she expect
?

As Knox leaned down to relieve him of Harper’s weight, Evan underwent an uncomfortable realisation. It wasn’t since entering the Rookery that his empathy had started to flare up. It was since he’d slept with Laine.

‘Evan?’

It was Solace again, watching him with concern. He realised he was drifting, and told himself sternly to snap out of it.

‘I’m fine.’ He stood, offering the vampire a hand up. Much to his surprise, she took it. Nearby, Harper hung in Knox’s arms like a sleeping child. Paige hovered beside his head.

The guard shifted his shoulders. ‘Anyone else?’

‘I’ll go,’ Electra said, startling them all. The blonde girl had been silent for some time. Paige shot her a grateful smile. ‘I’m still feeling a bit woozy, anyway,’ she added. ‘I’ll see you guys later?’

‘Later,’ Jess affirmed. With a final nod, Knox departed, the two girls following in his wake.

Evan watched them go. ‘Ironic,’ he murmured.

Manx cocked his head, rousing from his torpor. ‘How so?’

‘Because now we’re three people short instead of one.’

Manx gave a rubbery grin. ‘I take your point. Very immeasurably random.’

Jess pulled a face. ‘I
hate
immeasurable randomness.’

Evan crossed his arms, suddenly feeling tired. ‘No, you don’t.’

‘You’re right. I don’t.’ His sister smiled, but the expression faded as she studied him. ‘Ev? You okay?’

‘Fine. Still a bit groggy, that’s all.’

With unexpected vigour, Manx threw an arm around his shoulders.