White Lies: (The Uruwashi Series #4) (16 page)

“Selling Avon—the fook yew think I’m ‘ere fer?” Desmond had yet to look at him, his attention taken by the spectacle of the room. “Come tae save yur sorry lot—Er, what’s this bloody mess now?”

Mindful not to touch the snowflakes floating dangerously close to him, he motioned with a red hand and tired not to smirk at the anticipated reaction he was going to get. “Go ahead, touch one.”

Desmond cast a suspicious look his way but was reaching out. Curiosity was a powerful thing. Tristan couldn’t help but laugh when Desmond touched the snowflake and jerked his arm back so hard he put a hole in the wall next to him.

“The shite is that!”

“Seikonō,” Tristan answered with a tired sigh. Ah, that laugh was too much.

“The fook it is…” Desmond said, eyes wide as he examined a snowflake from an inch away. “Bollocks,” he muttered and then looked to Tristan. “How?”

Tristan shut his eyes, resting his head back against the wall and shrugged. “Are you going to get me out of here or just stand there and watch me bleed out?”

That’s when Desmond seemed to really notice Tristan and the blood still flowing freely from his head. It wasn’t like him to care, but he didn’t have a snarky response for the American as he boldly stomped through water for him.

The first few snowflakes that burst against Desmond only hurt Desmond, but the more he ran into those sparkling crystals, the more another problem became clear. Tristan cried out as the electricity traveled through Desmond, into the water and into him. And despite the distance it had to travel to reach Tristan, none of its power was diminished.

“Desmond!” Tristan finally screamed, begging abatement from the pain. But Desmond had enough too and the shock of all those snowflakes brought the big bad vampire to his knees.

Teeth gnashed to bare his fangs, Desmond growled out his pain and met Tristan’s gaze.

Tristan was a little taken aback. Never had he expected Desmond to come to his rescue. And he had, twice now, actually. “Why?” Tristan whispered when he found his breath again.

“Don’t ken what yur bloody on aboot,” the other man grunted as he took a moment to catch his breath against the pain.

“You hate me. Why would risk yourself to help me?”

With a grunt and a curse when he smacked another snowflake of death, he pushed to his feet. “Dinnea do it fur yew.”

“Do you really love her that much? To sacrifice yourself for a man you hate just to make her happy?”

Desmond stopped moving altogether in an instant, that utter stillness that the vampire could achieve that made them look as if they were made of stone. Tristan was unnerved by the man for the first time.

“You don’t ken a bloody thing, boy.

Tristan stared at him a moment and then sighed. “Just help me out of here you big fucking ape.”

Desmond flicked him off with two fingers but trudged towards him, taking hits from the snowflakes all along the way even knowing that Tristan’s less-than-vampire physique was taking the pain worse.

“Desmond,” he gasped. “
Stop
.”

Desmond hissed a string of curses but stopped, panting and spittle dribbling down his chin. He was trying to hide it, but Tristan could see the pain in his eyes. Felt the same pain himself.

“We need to get you out of here.”

Tristan shook his head. “I can’t—I can’t take anymore. Can’t you use your seikonō to mitigate it?”

Desmond frowned, looking so unlike him and more like the Desmond Tristan saw in Greece, the vampire that was afraid of being on the island where he died. “I tried already.”

Tristan sighed, relaxing a little now that he wasn’t wracked with pain. His head throbbed and his eyes felt burnt out so he shut them. “Damn,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure whether he should be worried that he hadn’t felt Desmond pull on his seikonō or not. Having been in such close proximity to so many different seikonō users at once in Greece, he now knew the telltale sign of each without a doubt. He could also taste what energy they drew from just by being close enough to feel their presence. He hated to admit it, but he tasted both wind and water from Xuejiao in those critical seconds before she knocked him out. But right now, with Desmond within reach, he wasn’t feeling anything. Nothing at all. Maybe it was his head or maybe it was something a bit more calculated, like say, a pythia’s spell.

He’d worry about it if he didn’t bleed to death in this place first. “Desmond?” he said in a shaky voice, eyes opening to catch Desmond’s gaze. “If you… if you need blood… take mine. Right now, feed on me and use the seikonō from my blood to get us out of here.”

The seriousness in Tristan’s tone, the unfaltering gaze shook the vampire so that he fell into that stone stillness again. He remained silent for a long time, just staring at Tristan. When a snowflake floated too close, he moved so suddenly that Tristan flinched, startled by it.

“No. Yur just giving up one pain fur ‘nother and we won’t bloody do it.”

Tristan laughed a curt sound. “You’re supposed to tell me you don’t want a drop of my disgusting Uruwashi blood, man.”

It took Desmond a few seconds to laugh and then he was laughing too much, like his old self. Tristan felt he saw a little bit of the real Desmond just now and realized that laugh was his front. Ash wore a mask of irritability, and Desmond wore a mask of nonchalance when neither of them were what they pretended to be.

“All right,” Tristan sighed, wobbling to his feet. “Let’s do this. Try to avoid them this time.”

They both knew that he had been trying to, that their homing on Desmond wasn’t his fault, but instead of being snippy about it, Desmond just grunted and took Tristan’s arm, throwing him half over his shoulder to support his weight. Tristan hated that he had to rely on the vampire but right then, he could admit that he was in over his head.

HE could feel Desmond again, now that they’d broken out of the seikonō upstairs and he could admit to himself that the vampire made his insides—and,
fuck
, some of the outsides—all tingly happy.

“Fuck me if that didn’t hurt like a sonofabitch,” Tristan muttered, holding Desmond’s shirt to his head that vampire hadn’t thought twice about giving over. Tristan was bleeding too much and that seemed to worry the man, even if he’d never say so.

They were laying in genkan, the foyer of Wren’s apartment in a wet tangle, not caring that they were practically in each other’s laps, and Desmond was now half naked, as they tried to recover from taking on that crazy seikonō. After Desmond had gotten them out of that mess upstairs, the pair practically ran for the door but lost their resolve and burst of energy by the time they got to the door. Being electrocuted so many times really took it out of a person, vampire or otherwise.

“That was one bloody kicker of a seikonō. Who’d you say did it again?”

Tristan shot Desmond a clouded look. “I didn’t.”

Desmond gave him a sour frown in return.

“How’d you find me anyway?”

“One of the fox followed yew.”

Tristan snorted a disgusted noise. “The kitsune… Get me started on those tricksters…” Then again, he knew their nature and still went along with it. His situation was just as much his own fault as the kitsune’s.

“Bloody stupid to get yurself abducted.”

“You’re the one who took me out to that shrine under false pretenses. That trip had nothing to do with that troll, did it? You just wanted me kill Wren for you and got the kitsune to join in your lie, am I right?” He didn’t really think that, but he felt like punishing Desmond.

Desmond frowned and then looked away when he realized he was making the face. “Don’t know what you’re on aboot.”

“You know what, I don’t give a shit. It’s done. Wren’s gone.”

“Stop calling him that,” Desmond said with a bit of a growl.

“What? He said to call him Wren, so I call him Wren. Or would you rather me call him Toshiro whatever-his-last-name-was. Guy seemed nice enough too, despite kidnapping me. I don’t know why you had to try and burn the poor fuck’s face off like that.”

Desmond blinked at him once before his arm shot outward, popping Tristan in the mouth.

“Ow!” Tristan shouted. “I’ve got a fucking concussion here, you asshole! Christ… what was that for anyway? You gonna say you didn’t do that to him? Scar him like that?”

“Who told you about that?”

“Wren did! God,” Tristan moaned, dabbing at his lip and found it bleeding again. “You busted my lip open again you fucking—” He stopped himself with a little sigh. “Look, I know you two have a history… not a good one anyway, but it doesn’t matter now. You’ve gone your way and he’s gone his.” When Desmond didn’t answer, Tristan added, “Right?”

The other man grunted, looking away. “Right.”

“Right. So everything’s all worked out. Can we go home? I’m fucking beat.”

“Fine,” Desmond grumbled and walked out the front door, swinging it hard enough that it almost popped back into Tristan’s face by the time he got to his feet.

Moving a little slow and stiff, the shirt held to his still bleeding head, Tristan and shuffled after Desmond to the car in his socked feet since he left his shoes in Wren’s car when he tried to steal it before. Desmond had come in Tristan’s car and while he really didn’t give a shit if he saw it ever again, he was relieved for the familiarity of it. And he had shoes in the back. He didn’t even argue about getting in the passenger side, he was too tired to fight and really didn’t feel like driving anyway, through snow, with a bloody, throbbing head. They had at least two hours ahead of them to get back to Yuki’s depending on the snow.

As he was buckling up, he glanced around, looking for the Benz Wren had brought them here in. It was gone, along with Wren and that freak child vampire. The one who could wield
two
seikonō. The one who was brutally killing all those people.

“Damn,” he sighed.

Desmond stopped and turned to face him. “Problem, mate?”

“Yeah, I can’t leave.”

Desmond’s eyes flicked a glance at the sky for the barest of seconds.

Yeah, they were tight on time if they wanted to get back before dawn. Too bad Tristan had stuff to do here first.

“Fook yew.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “I know, but dude, I… I’ve got something to do first and fuck me but I—” He stopped to sigh in annoyance. “I need your help.” He looked up and met Desmond’s surprised gaze. He probably needed the girls too… And some insane luck.

“Bollocks.”

He sighed and rested his throbbing head against window. The cold felt kind of good. “The vampire that took Wren is the one who’s been draining and drowning people in the region. She said all she wanted was Wren and that she’d stop hurting others now that she’s got him, but I just… I can’t trust her. Besides, I’m pretty sure Wren will give her the slip as soon as he can and he’s definitely not strong enough to kill her on his own, being a vanilla n’ all…”

Not that he was even close to confident that he could end a dual-seikonō using kodaijin himself. Then again, if he didn’t survive this test run, as he’d started to think of it, against someone like Xuejiao, what did he hope to accomplish against Mother? He was Uruwashi, mighty, powerful. Virgin or not, he had a name to uphold and a role to fulfill, to protect the people of this world.

Tristan felt sick again.

Desmond was silent and needing to validate that the guy was even listening, Tristan turned to look at him. The other man was gripping the steering wheel hard enough that even over the running motor and blub of the exhaust, Tristan could hear the wheel creaking.

“What’s her name, the one who took Wren?”

“Xuejiao.”

“Bloody hell,” Desmond growled. “She’s still alive?”

“You know her?”

“Of, more like. She be the one who came betwee—” Desmond looked away. “She’s a fooking case, should have been put out to sun ages ago.”

“I hate that I have to ask anyone for help, especially you, but it’s the truth…” Tristan rested his head back against the window again with a sigh. He was starting to feel nauseous despite the feel-good tingle Desmond’s vampire presence was giving him. “I don’t feel so good,” he whispered against the glass with his eyes shut tight.

The sharp scent of blood filled the car and Tristan jerked, hitting his head on the window. “What the fuck are you doing?”

There was something contemptuous, dangerous in Desmond’s dark gaze as he held out his bleeding finger. “It will help you heal faster.”

Tristan only gawked at him.

“What?” Desmond tilted his head to the side. “You expect me to believe you’ve never had vampire blood before?”

Tristan was almost too taken off guard to respond. “Wh—what?” Just what was he trying to say?

“Asta’s no pythia by blood, but it’s still in her blood—aye, metaphorically like. She’s a pythia at heart. Puts her blood in everything she makes, amps up healing anyway since she’s vampire, aye. Even if it’s no pythia strong, it’s still strong.”

“The tea…,” Tristan whispered. He remembered the first time he was given that god-awful stuff. The combination of herbs made the base smell like hot dog shit, but under that, Tristan remembered the tang of something metallic, yet, mouthwatering. Same thing with the ointment he used on his arm after Aaron sliced him open. They contained Ash’s blood. He hadn’t used of either one since France, but he still remembered them well.

“Aye. Tea, ointments…” Desmond stopped to consider him through half-lidded, cynical eyes. “I’ve seen the way you watch her, there’s no way you haven’t been drinking her blood on the side.”

Tristan flinched. “Wh—what? You think I—god, no. I’m not like you. I’m not—”

“A vampire?” Desmond shifted closer, his voice low and nearly accent free. “You may be Uruwashi, but that still makes you part vampire, aye? You get to be in the sun and eat solid food, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a part of the night. That you don’t crave what you should… blood.” Desmond pushed his hand closer. “
My
blood.”

All of the glands in Tristan’s mouth pulsed as the scent of vampire blood bombarded them. He moaned, not really expecting to and shivered. In that moment his mind demanded a singular focus. It was all Tristan could see, smell and taste, Desmond’s blood. Vampire blood.

A flash of memory, a fragment of his dreams came to him: Standing in his apartment shower, a cold vampire trapped between him and the shower wall. He could smell blood but never got to taste it. He was excited for that taste. And utterly horrified.

“Get away from me!” Tristan yelled, shoving Desmond back.

Desmond scoffed at him. “Ken it… yur nothing but a wee Jessie bas, too human to be anything else. That should make you feel good, aye? Yur not the monster yew think you is.”

No actually, because if he was just human, through and through, then that made him a bad human. A murderer. He had to believe what he was doing was right.
Just
.

“Oi!”

Having climbed out of the car, Tristan slammed the door behind him.

Desmond growled an angry sound and got out, leaning on the hood to call after Tristan. “Where are yew going?”

“Just leave. I’ll find my own way.”

“Leave? Are yew bloody mad? We’s ‘ere to take yew back. Master likely to eviscerate me if I go back all on me lonesome.”

Tristan stopped and turned to look at the vampire. “I don’t give a shit what you’re here to do. I’ve got a vampire to find. And I don’t give a shit what you do, just stay out of my fucking way.”

Without waiting to hear Desmond’s answer, he turned away and shuffled back towards Wren’s room. It was a good a place as any to rest for the coming day, maybe do some recon, figure out where Xuejiao and Wren might have gone.

He stumbled up the narrow staircase, grabbing the wooden practice sword on his way up. At the top of the stairs, there was a door straight ahead. He knew from his time earlier that beyond that door was a small, unused kitchen. To the left was the living room he escaped from earlier. Tristan stopped in the doorway looking in and sighed. Most of the snowflakes were gone now, just a few floating out in the empty space. The water though, there was four standing inches of it and it cut off at the threshold by an invisible barrier. It was…

“Interesting.”

Tristan crouched down to get a better look, poking the water line with the wooden sword. He felt Desmond’s presence come up behind him but heard nothing. The vampire was trying to be sneaky and it made Tristan smile cynically.

“Any idea what kind of seikonō this is?”

Desmond huffed and scoffed his feet against the floor behind him. “No sodding clue.”

Tristan looked up and then down again when the tee shirt he held to his head slipped, hitting him in the eye. He huffed at it and tossed it down. It made a heavy, soggy noise that didn’t go past either of their notice. He dabbed at the wound with his fingers and frowned when he discovered he was still bleeding, just a little.

“You’re supposed to be the water expert here,” Tristan said absently, distracted by the cut. “Shouldn’t you be able to talk to it?”

Desmond made a rude noise and then was grabbing Tristan’s wrist.

“Hey!” Tristan lost his balance and fell to his ass even though Desmond had already let him go.

“Stop touching it. You’re going to make it worst. Yew ken, if yew let me dab some vampire blood on it, it will close up real fast like.”

Instead of using his words like a big boy he lashed out and smacked Desmond in the ankle with the sword.

The vampire gave him a hearty reaction, yipping in pain. “Fine, bloody bleed oot, see if we care.”

Tristan sighed and sat back against the wall. “Just do your seikonō thing where you talk to it, will ya? God, you have to make everything so difficult. Fuck your pride and just do what you have to.”

Desmond stared at him a moment, looking like he might have something very Desmond-like to say in answer, but then he didn’t and instead he was biting into the meaty part of his hand and crouching down in front of Tristan.

An image struck Tristan then of a great, white bullfrog and he giggled to himself. Desmond was a grouchy ol’ albino bullfrog.

“What’re you on about?”

“Nothing,” Tristan snickered. “Just do your thing, frogman.”

Desmond furrowed white eyebrows at him, but held his hand out over the water, letting his blood drip for a moment before lowering his hand into the water. Immediately, he grunted, recoiling but kept his hand immersed.

“What is it?”

The vampire had shut his eyes to concentrate. “Don’t rightly ken… it’s no’ right. Almost as if…” Desmond jerked his hand out of the water, eyes opened to show wide, worried clear green orbs. “You say this was Xuejiao?”

Tristan nodded.

“Wee Chinese bairn, ‘boot six years old, aye?”