Vigil

by V. J. Chambers

  He reached up and grabbed her wrist.

  She made a shocked noise in the back of her throat.

  He yanked her hand away from his face. “Maybe you should leave.”

  She was stunned. “What?”

  He crossed to the door.

  She went after him, her heels clicking on the floor. “Listen, you know that I was just going through a phase before. I was young. I was stupid. You can’t really blame me for the way I acted. We were children, Callum.”

  “We were twenty-one.” He opened the door.

  “Exactly,” she said. “Children.”

  “Look, Blake—”

  “I want us to be friends again.” She put her hand on his shoulder. Was it impossible for her to keep her hands to herself?

  He swallowed again. “Well, that’s a nice thought. But I guess you can’t just barge in here, and…” He shrugged her off.

  She sighed. “Okay, okay. Clearly, you’re going to be a big baby about the whole thing. Jesus.” She ran her hands over the front of her dress. “Listen, I’m going to let you have a little bit of time to get accustomed to the idea of you and me burying the hatchet. Don’t let the past ruin the present, darling.” She stepped out of the door.

  He shut it after her and collapsed against it. “Could this day get worse?” he asked the ceiling.

  “You had a fiancé?” I said.

  He shook his head. “Not now, Cecily.” He took a deep breath, and then he strode past me, leaving me alone in the foyer.

  God damn his walking off on me.

  * * *

  Vigil stuck his foot in the door, so that David Jones couldn’t close it. “Just wait a second.”

  David was in his fifties. He was wearing a plaid flannel shirt and smoking a cigarette. He was scowling. “I’m not talking to you, scumbag. You’re exactly what’s wrong with our city. Like we need some creep in a costume walking around all over the place. Grow up. Masks are for children.”

  “I only have a few questions,” said Vigil. “You ever work for the Barclays?”

  “You, lady,” said David. “I read your articles on him. He’s got you snowed, sister. He’s not some kind of hero. He’s fucked in the head.”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “Shall I quote you as saying that, Mr. Jones?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “This for the paper?”

  “We know that you were in jail—”

  “That was thirty years ago,” said David. “I ain’t been back since then.”

  “You got there doing drug smuggling,” said Vigil. “Did you do the work for the Barclays or not?”

  “You going to print this?” he asked me.

  “We want to know if you’re close to Hayden Barclay,” I said. “That’s all.”

  “See, I’m not going to have my name in the paper with the Barclay name, you got that?” David said. “After you get yourself clear of that family, you got to work hard to make sure they don’t find you again.”

  “So, you’re clear of them,” said Vigil.

  “I am,” said David. “Been straight as an arrow ever since I did that time. I was a kid back then. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “You know anything about The Phantom?” I said.

  “What? The other masked crazy?” said David. “Why would I know anything about him?”

  Vigil took a deep breath. “All right, I’m going to believe you on this. But I know where you live, you understand? We find out different, we’ll come back and—”

  “Oh, shut up,” said David. “I’m not listening to your shit anymore. And I sure as fuck am not scared of you.”

  Vigil moved his foot. “You better not be lying.”

  David slammed the door.

  “I knew that was a long shot,” he muttered, heading away from David’s apartment to the place where his motorcycle was parked.

  I followed him. “Maybe he’s lying.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  According to my research, there were two men named David Jones that had associated with the Barclay family. Well, the other guy was actually Davis Jones, but we figured that he could reasonably have the nickname Davy.

  This first guy was really too old to have interacted much with Hayden Barclay. He was out of the business before Hayden was born.

  Still, we didn’t have any other leads.

  Vigil handed me my helmet.

  I took it, but I didn’t put it on. “Um, are we going to talk about what happened?”

  “With that guy?” said Vigil, gesturing toward David’s apartment. “What’s there to talk about?”

  “Not with that guy,” I said. “With, um, us.” I hadn’t seen him since meeting Blake. That had been days ago. We’d both been busy and hadn’t had time to get together. If Vigil hadn’t wanted to do work on tracking down Barclay, I didn’t think he would have even gotten in touch with me.

  He shrugged, turning away from me. “What do you want me to say about it?”

  I shifted on my feet, searching for a way to broach the subject of our awkward sexual encounter. Nothing I thought of seemed like something I could actually say aloud. I decided to let that slide. “You had a fiancé?”

  “It didn’t work out,” he said.

  “Well, obviously.”

  “She’s kind of a bitch,” he said.

  “That was obvious too.”

  He laughed. “But, I don’t know, she says she wants to be friends. And maybe I was being immature when I kicked her out the other day. That was what she said to my voice mail.”

  “She called you?” I didn’t like that. I didn’t want that woman talking to him at all.

  “When Blake wants something, she doesn’t let up until she gets it,” he said. “So, of course she called. And she isn’t going to stop either.”

  “Wait, you’re not actually thinking about going to that ball thing with her?”

  “No,” he said. “Of course not. I have a brand new public girlfriend to drag to shit like that.”

  I felt relief course through me. “Oh. I get to come, then.” I smiled, throwing a leg over the motorcycle.”

  He settled in behind me. “Trust me, after you attend a few of these things, you are not going to think that going to one is a privilege.”

  I wiggled my ass against him. “I’ll get to spend time with you, right?”

  He trapped my hips to keep them from moving. “Careful, Cecily,” he growled. “We still have more interviews to do tonight. If you distract me, innocent lives could be at stake.”

  I leaned back into him. “What are the odds that Davis guy knows anything?” He was right, of course. We shouldn’t mess around when there was important work to do. But part of me wanted to make sure that everything still worked between us.

  Why had he climaxed so quickly last time? Was it just a fluke, or was it because he hadn’t been wearing the costume? Or because I’d said his name? Or because I’d been looking at him?

  He didn’t like it when I looked at him.

  He kissed my neck. “We have to talk to him. We can’t blow it off.” But his voice had gotten husky, and I could hear his desire.

  I twisted in his arms, pressing my breasts against his chest. “We could be quick, couldn’t we?”

  He stiffened.

  I winced. “Shit, I didn’t mean—”

  “Let’s go find this Davis.” His voice was ice.

  * * *

  Davis Jones had wide eyes and wild hair. He talked fast, and he kept rubbing his nose. He’d probably just gotten finished snorting cocaine. I’d seen enough people fucked up like that to be able to spot it.

  “Uh… Barclay?” he said, bouncing on his feet. “Look, I just work for him sometimes. Nothing serious, you know. I wouldn’t consider myself a regular employee or anything.”

  “But you do work for him,” said Vigil.

  “Sometimes,” said Davis. He eyed Vigil. “Hey, I thought you were strictly all about saving those girls from getting killed. I don’t do shit
like that. I like girls. I like them alive. I don’t like them with their legs cut off, you know?”

  “Like I said,” said Vigil, “I’m here to ask you a few questions, that’s all.”

  Davis rubbed his nose. “I swear, I got nothing do with that Phantom guy or whatever. You aren’t gonna hurt me, are you?”

  I stepped forward. “Do you ever go by the nickname Davy?”

  “What?” Davis shook his head. “No way. That’s kind of gay, don’t you think?”

  Vigil glared at him.

  “Not that, um, there’s anything wrong with being gay,” said Davis. “Gay is cool with me. I have good friends who, you know, dig the trouser snake. Not me personally, of course, but—”

  “We know there’s a connection between Davy Jones and Barclay,” I said. “You’re Davis Jones, and we thought maybe you might be the connection.”

  “Davy Jones?” said Davis. “Maybe you’re talking about that storage place?”

  “Storage place?” said Vigil.

  “Yeah,” said Davis. “There are a bunch of lockers there. I think it’s called that. Davy Jones’ Locker? Or something like that, anyway.”

  * * *

  Vigil dropped me off outside my apartment. “I’ll check into this locker thing,” he said. “If there is a storage place called that, maybe we can check it out.”

  “Tomorrow?” I said.

  “Tomorrow’s the Garwood Charity Ball,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said. “So soon.”

  “Welcome to my world,” he said. “You’re going to need a dress, aren’t you?”

  “No,” I said. “I can handle that on my own.”

  He shook his head. “No, you can’t. You don’t own the right kind of dresses.”

  “I can buy one.”

  “Too expensive.”

  “I’m not destitute, you know,” I said. “I can take care of buying myself a dress.”

  “I’ll have Nolan pick something out and send it over,” he said.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Just take the dress, okay?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest.

  He sighed. “I told you that getting involved with Callum was going make everything more complicated.”

  “You are Callum. I wish you would stop talking like you’re separate people.”

  “Fine,” he said. “Anyway, I’ll check into the locker thing.” He turned away from me.

  I hugged myself. There was tension between us. It wasn’t good. “Vigil?”

  He looked at me.

  “About what happened between us. When we, um, had sex?”

  He snorted. “You’re kind to call it that.”

  “Well, I mean—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I think we should,” I said. “You’re obviously upset.”

  “I’m not.” He turned away again. He got back on his bike.

  I touched his arm before he could start the engine. “Wait.”

  He wouldn’t look at me. “No. There’s nothing to talk about.”

  I grabbed his chin and tilted it up so that he was facing me. Then I pressed my lips against his.

  At first, he didn’t respond.

  But he opened his mouth to me, tangled his tongue with mine, wrapped his arms around me.

  He pulled me close, and his kiss lit me up inside like it always did. I was warm with tingling desire for him.

  “Do you want to come up to my room?” I asked softly.

  “I thought your roommate was a problem,” he said.

  Right. Damn Airenne.

  He tucked a strand of hair away from my face. “It’s late. I’ve got to patrol. Make sure The Phantom isn’t hurting any girls.”

  I nodded. “Of course.” I started to pull away.

  He tugged me back against him. “Later,” he breathed in my ear, his voice full of deep promise.

  * * *

  I awoke later that night to the weight of his body on the bed with me. He didn’t speak. He didn’t make noise. He was just a shadow, just a dark man, who teased my body taut, like he was tuning a guitar. And the he plucked the strings of my passion until I came undone.

  He made long, slow, sweet love to me.

  I thought it might never stop.

  He brought me to climax again and again, and I had to let each one wash over me, stifling my cries because we had to be stealthy and silent.

  When he finally stopped, spent in me, he gathered me close, and I fell asleep in his arms.

  He was gone when I woke up.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “The dress looks good on you,” said Callum.

  We were in the back seat of a limo, heading to the ball. I fingered the skirt of it. The dress was a jade green. It settled off my shoulders and cinched tight just under my breasts, peasant style. The skirt was gathered at the waist and full all the way to the bottom. It was a really great twirling dress. I’d twirled in front of the mirror several times before Callum had picked me up. “Thanks,” I said.

  It was the only thing we’d said to each other since he’d picked me up. It was strange. He and I had been together the night before, utterly intimate. We’d talked when we interrogated the men together. But now here we were, and everything was awkward.

  Because it had been Vigil before. Callum and I hadn’t really talked since after the article. Since our awkward sexual encounter. Since Blake.

  I didn’t like her. She had a guy’s name. What kind of name was Blake for a girl anyway?

  Airenne said that she was really rich. She was the daughter of Wallace Monroe, the hotel tycoon. She was a high society girl, always in the tabloids for her crazy behavior. I’d never heard of her, but apparently, she was one of those trust fund girls who was famous because she was rich and pretty.

  “Look, Cecily, I know that…”

  I turned to him.

  He was staring at his hands in his lap.

  “You know what?” I asked.

  He took a deep breath. “It’s a problem I have.”

  “What is?”

  His jaw twitched. “What do you think?”

  Oh. He was talking about the awkward sexual encounter. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it. Honestly, it’s not really that big of a deal. It happens to everyone sometimes. I’m not even thinking about it anymore.”

  “I didn’t want to talk about it when I was Vigil,” he said. “It doesn’t happen to him.”

  “Oh,” I said. So it was like that, then, was it?

  It was quiet.

  I thought about it. “That doesn’t make any sense. You’re still you, even if you’re wearing—”

  “I know it doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Look, it surprised me when I… could, you know, perform. With you. I didn’t know that I could. But I was attracted to you. It seemed different. I couldn’t stop myself from… taking you. And then it… it was different.. But only when I’m him.”

  I bit my lip. “When you aren’t wearing the mask you always—”

  “Always.”

  I stared straight ahead, trying to process that.

  “That’s why I hire the girls,” he said. “It’s easier that way. When I try to date women, I inevitably just… I can’t satisfy them.”

  I turned to him. “But you can. You’re the most amazing lover I’ve ever had and—”

  “Vigil is,” he said. “He and I are not the same.”

  “Bullshit,” I said.

  He sucked in a noisy breath. “Look, we’ve talked about it. I don’t want to talk about it again.”

  “Callum, I don’t accept that. I mean, if you do have some kind of issue with being a little… premature…”

  He cringed.

  I pushed forward. “Then it’s all in your head. I mean, you’ve proved that over and over. Every time we’ve been together. It’s only because you think that Vigil—”

  “Stop,” he said. “I want to drop it.”

  “But we haven
’t—”

  “Cecily, you cannot possibly imagine how embarrassing this is for me.”

  “Well, that’s part of the problem, isn’t it, though? You’ve got some kind of mental block, and the only way we’re going to break through it is if we, you know, get it out in the open so that you can stop feeling embarrassed.”

  He shut his eyes. “Please. Let it go.”

  I couldn’t. He was being ridiculous. He was fine, and if he would just accept that he was fine, this “problem” of his would go away. I knew it would. “Is it only when you have sex?”

  “What?” He gave me a confused look. “When else would it happen?”

  “What about when you’re alone?”

  He let out a little disbelieving laugh, and he turned bright red. “Stop it,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “What if you weren’t inside me?” I said. “What if you were in my mouth?”

  He loosened his tie. Sweat was breaking out on his brow. I could see it, tiny little sparkling beads.

  I was making him uncomfortable. He’d asked me to drop it, and maybe I should. But it seemed like it should be such an easy thing to fix. If I could just get him to believe it wouldn’t happen, then it wouldn’t. “You know, it occurs to me that we’ve never done that.”

  “I’m trying to explain to you that I never want to do anything like that with you if I’m not wearing the mask, and it’s like you’re not hearing me.”

  “How much longer we going to be in the back of this limo?” I reached for his fly.

  He stopped my hands. “Shit, Cecily, don’t.”

  I gave him a wicked grin. “Come on. What’s the worst that could happen? You have a really quick quickie?”

  He turned even redder. “Please don’t joke—”

  I unzipped his pants, thrusting my hand inside. I found him immediately, big and stiff. Wow, did he always have a hard on, or was it only that our discussion had aroused him? I wrapped my hand around him.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, resting his head against the back of the seat.

  I freed him, so that his erection was sticking straight up from his pants, in all of its thick, hard glory. I licked my lips.

  “It’s not going to work.” His voice was strained.

  “But you don’t have to worry about pleasuring me,” I said. “There’s no pressure.” I lowered my head.