Blood Call

by Lilith Saintcrow

  Kit’s faint smile turned sardonic.

  Hassan shook his head. “Jesus Christ, Wolfe. Jesus fucking Christ.”

  “Tell me about it. Get moving.” Josiah pushed Anna’s shoulders, gently, as Hassan reluctantly stepped back into the kitchen, the gun dangling in his hand. “Sit down, Anna. You look ready to fall over.”

  “This is all very well.” Kit’s tone didn’t change, but the air cooled a few degrees when he spoke. “I will ask one more time, young man. Where is my ring?”

  “In a safe place.” Josiah pushed her past the pale scarecrow, her feet moving automatically, a spike of pain jolting up from her abused ankle with every step. “Willie is about to get us the information we need to strike. When we finish eradicating everyone who’s been in that brownstone, I’ll give you the location of your precious ring.”

  Anna sank down gratefully in a chair, but her mouth had gone dry. Josiah leaned over her, flipping a first-aid kit closed. She saw another dark room through an open door, luggage stacked against the half-wall between the main room and the kitchenette, bags and cases, and Willie lowering a long nasty-looking rifle from her shoulder.

  Josiah passed behind her, scooping a navy sweater from a pile sitting on the closest bed, and she painfully craned her neck to see a swift snarl pass over Kit’s face.

  “I do not bargain,” he said softly. “I have returned your wayward woman. You will give me my ring, and then you shall aid me in slaying my enemies.” There were little red slits revolving in the depths of his irises, and his tongue had difficulty with the sibilants—probably because his teeth are growing. Anna shivered. Oh, God, Josiah, don’t piss him off!

  Josiah finished pulling the sweater on. The bandage vanished. He moved impossibly gracefully, despite a slight hitch in his left shoulder. “I give you this ‘ring’ and before I know it I have no leverage and no way of ensuring you stay on my side. No dice. I’m holding on to your ring until this is finished, and then you can have it, and welcome to it. Otherwise, just fuck off and watch a real professional work.”

  Kit was silent. He studied Josiah as if a new and interesting bug had just crawled out from under a rock. Her throat turned dry as the Sahara, and she glanced nervously at Josiah, who scooped up his gun from the bed and checked it, maybe a trifle unnecessarily.

  “The way I see it,” he continued, calmly, as if he wasn’t being stared at by a creature out of nightmares and books, “you would have already taken these guys apart if you could. You need me. After all, they trapped you in the first place and bled you white. They haven’t caught me yet. So just sit your freaky self down and listen. You might learn something.”

  Anna opened her mouth, meaning to protest, to forestall the inevitable explosion. A new sound intruded, a kind of whistling wheeze. Kit’s face contorted, the flush high along his cheekbones intensifying, becoming almost purple.

  Anna’s mouth hung open. My God. He’s laughing.

  Josiah dropped down in a chair to Anna’s left, his back to the kitchenette. That meant he was facing Kit, and he still had the gun in his hand, resting casually on the table. Willie had barely moved, and she suddenly realized they were preparing to shoot the scarecrow if he moved the wrong way.

  The wheezing finally tapered off, and Kit moved slowly forward, his feet barely seeming to move as they brushed the carpet. The ugly red-purple flush faded bit by bit as he did. “You remind me of Walsie. He was inflexible when he believed he had the winning draught.” He sounded thoughtful, and lowered himself slowly into a third chair. Caught between him and Josiah, Anna braced herself.

  Josiah’s left hand came down on her wrist. He squeezed once, reassuringly. “Whoever he was. Did you like him?”

  Kit shrugged. “He is the one responsible for my present…condition. It was a choice between certain death or becoming a creature glutted with other death. I count myself lucky I was given that much.”

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to like me. You just have to do what I say for a little while, and then we can go our merry ways and never see each other again. Willie, check on Hassan and that tea, then start working on target files.” Josiah stared at Kit, unblinking. They held each other’s gazes for a long, breathing eternity as Willie moved, edging back toward the kitchenette, where running water and clinking ceramic almost covered up the sound of Hassan swearing under his breath.

  “Have you wondered how I found you, canny one?” The pale man sat utterly still, his eyes hooding. His lips were red, and a shudder went through her because she knew where that crimson came from.

  “You fucking bit me; that’s probably how you found me. Or you can smell me. Either way I don’t care, as long as those bastards don’t find me. Anna?”

  She blinked at him. A switch had flipped, and he wore his old calm mask as he glanced down, his fingers going through the first-aid kit. She wasn’t sure she could ever believe that placid smooth surface or small half smile ever again.

  “Take this.” He produced a small bottle of Tylenol PM. “You need some rest, and it’ll help with the pain.” He pushed a half-full bottle of mineral water toward her, too.

  She took a couple of the Tylenols. He nodded approvingly, and Kit didn’t look at her throat as she swallowed.

  Small things to be grateful for. “I’m sorry.” The words caught her by surprise. “I should have—”

  “Don’t worry about that right now.” He touched her wrist again, with just his fingertips. “Eat something. You need a shower before that hits, or anything?”

  She eyed the sandwiches, but her stomach revolved at the thought. She kept hearing the wet meaty crunching of a broken neck, the gasping as the thing buried its teeth in another throat—or the pair of bright blue eyes as the last man Kit had drained dry stared at her while she huddled terrified behind a pillar.

  The fact that the blue-eyed policeman had been pointing a gun at her when Kit appeared only made it worse.

  “A shower first. P-please.” She had to speak slowly. Pure relief was almost as terrifying as fear itself.

  He eyed her for a long moment. “All right. Bathroom’s in there. I’ll send Willie in with fresh clothes. Don’t take too long, you’ll fall asleep and drown.”

  “Okay.” But she didn’t move. Kit was so still she could almost forget he was there, but his black eyes glittered avidly, watching. “Josiah?”

  “Just go, Anna. Get some warm water.” He was back to staring at Kit, their gazes still locked, as if they were going to play a telepathic game of chess. “I’ll wait right here.”

  It was hard to push herself up from the table. It was even harder to skirt Kit, trying not to cringe, and turn her back on both of them.

  Just before she closed the bathroom door, she heard another slight chuckling wheeze. “If she were a boy, I would change her. Those eyes.”

  “You’ll keep your teeth off her.” Josiah sounded serious, and dead level. “Thanks for bringing her, by the way.”

  “She came to me, thinking I would provide vengeance.” The creature had no right to sound so amused.

  “Well, she doesn’t have to worry about that now. I’m on the goddamn job. Tell me something useful.”

  Anna closed the door with a quiet click. She fumbled across the bright white, antiseptically clean bathroom like a blind woman even though the lights were on, finally figured out how to turn the shower on. Rushing water covered any sound of conversation from the room outside—and it also covered any sounds she might make as she sobbed under the hot torrent, her ankle swelling and her back afire with pain. As much as she tried, the images of bloodshed just wouldn’t go away.

  And she thought, over and over again: Oh, God, Josiah was right.

  She had been so wrong.

  * * *

  The sleepy stuff in the Tylenol filled her head with fuzz and made the pain retreat. She lay in one of the double beds in the second room, the covers pulled up, sinking into warmth and softness, hearing the soft murmurs of conversation. When sleep closed over her head i
t was a blessing, welcome oblivion.

  A church rose out of a pool of red shimmering. Crimson fluid lapped at the front steps, Venetian gondolas sliding past with foaming wakes. Impelled, she opened the heavy doors and walked into incense-scented gloom.

  Josiah stood at the altar, straight and quiet in a tuxedo, his hair combed just so. Sinking horror began as Anna realized the church was full of people staring at her expectantly, and that it was a wedding. Sprays of white flowers decked the end of each pew and the altar, exhaling a cloying reek. Her feet were bare, and as she looked down at them she saw she was missing toes, and her skin was corpse-white.

  She lifted her hands, slowly, and saw her fingers were mere stubs. It was too late, she was at the altar, and as she turned with syrupy slowness she saw the muttering congregation was full of bright eyes and long, sharp canine teeth dimpling their scarlet-smeared lower lips. Her arms and legs weighted with dreamy terror, she saw the priest in his cassock, lifting something above his head.

  The priest was suddenly Eric, the necklace of sliced flesh gaping terribly as he gasped, inhaling, his face a grotesque ruin as he toppled forward.

  And Anna began to scream.…

  She jerked into full wakefulness, someone’s hand over her mouth and warm skin against her back. “Shhh,” Josiah whispered in her ear. “Shhh, just a dream, I’m here. Just a dream. Wake up.”

  He stroked her shoulder, and she finally relaxed, muscle by muscle. The tank top pulled up under her breasts; she felt the peculiar constriction of sleeping in her clothes. There was a dull silence from the other room; Anna froze.

  Had she disturbed anyone else?

  “You all right?” he whispered, warm breath tickling her ear. His hand cupped her shoulder; he was warm as he had always been. Sleeping next to him had always been pleasant; he was a stove on cool nights and even in the middle of sticky summers it was nice to feel him next to her.

  She managed a nod, holding herself very still. He had curled against her back, her second-favorite sleeping position; his hand slid down her arm and pulled the covers up, tucking her in securely and diving below the blankets to touch her ribs, his arm circling her waist and pulling her back against him.

  There was a very definite pressure against her left buttock.

  He’s got a hard-on. And we’re in a room with a flimsy door and other people out there. The thought that Kit might be in here, in the dark, sent a fresh jolt of panic through her.

  Josiah kissed the top of her head, pulling her back even farther. “Relax.” A mere murmur, unlikely to disturb any sleepers. “Go to sleep.”

  She squeezed her eyelids shut so hard tracers of green and blue exploded in the darkness. “Kit?” She couldn’t help herself.

  His hand flattened against her bare midriff above the waist of the pajama pants Willie had brought her. Calluses scraped against her softer skin; she wondered if his shoulder was hurting him. “He left. Had to find a safe hole since his other one was blown.”

  Thank God. She sagged in relief. He stroked her belly, gently, soothingly, just like petting a cat.

  Then, his fingers slid below the elastic waistband. “You need to relax.” Murmuring in her ear again, his breath tickling unbearably.

  There’s two other people sleeping practically right next door, Josiah. Not now. She tried squirming away, stopped when that only made things worse. Now, as well as being acutely aware of his arousal, she was uncomfortably aware of her own, and excruciatingly aware of the presence of others just beyond the closed door. His fingers slipped down, curving, and she froze again.

  “Not now,” she whispered.

  “Lighten up. They’re sacked out.” God damn the man, but he seemed to have grown another few fingers, teasing and probing. “I feel like a teenager.”

  She struggled with laughter, biting the inside of her cheek, and tried again to slide away from him. He was having none of it. “Stop it,” she finally whispered, fiercely. “I want to talk to you.”

  “I’m listening.” His breath blew a strand of hair across her nose, adding tickling to her list of worries.

  “I can’t think when you…” She hissed in a soft breath as he stroked, with just the right amount of delicate pressure.

  “That’s the idea.”

  It was like being a teenager, she decided, her heart hammering behind her ribs. I am going to die of embarrassment. “Stop it, Josiah. Please.”

  He did stop, but he didn’t move his hand. “You’re no fun.”

  It was exactly like the time they had been in the back of his car at Huntington Leap, the lights of the city glimmering in the distance and the fear of another car—or a police cruiser pulling up—adding to the close confines and the sticky leather against her bare, sweating thighs. She’d never been incredibly adventurous, but the wine and the heat and his hands on her had done the trick that particular night.

  He was waiting, she finally realized, holding himself still and breathing into her hair. She wondered if he was angry. Probably.

  “I want to talk to you.” She tried not to wriggle. “Please?”

  He let her move, managing to silently express reluctance at the same time. They ended up with her head propped on his right shoulder; she could see the glimmer of the bandage on his left. Her ankle twinged every time she moved, and it took a little bit of wriggling and settling before she was comfortable. He kissed her forehead, and she heard his heartbeat again.

  If she shut her eyes it was almost as if the intervening years had disappeared. She traced the arch of his ribs, feeling him breathe, and the last cold, clammy fingers of the dream faded. “He bit you.” She tried to whisper softly, not to disturb the air.

  “Yeah.” He reached up, touched her cheek with his left hand. If his shoulder hurt, he made no sign. His tone was soft, considering. “So?”

  “So? If they find out, they might decide to do the same thing to you they did to him.” It was hard to keep her voice down. “And what if the government—the real government, not just the mayor—finds out about Kit and locks him up? What if—”

  His finger came down across her lips, silencing her. “For Christ’s sake. Don’t borrow trouble. By the time I finish, nobody alive will know and we’ll be long gone. We’re going to have to leave the country, go somewhere they can’t find us. I’m trained for this, goddammit.”

  “I think that man knows.”

  “What man?”

  “Chilton.”

  “Chilwell,” he corrected. Now she felt stupid as well. “I’ll take care of him. The thing now is to get you out of town with Willie and Hassan. You’ll wait for me in a safe place. I’ll tie this off, get rid of Corpse Boy, and all will be gravy.”

  Was that tight feeling under her ribs panic? “I don’t want to leave.”

  “You couldn’t wait to get away yesterday morning.” Mild and whispered, the words still stung. “What the fuck were you thinking, Anna?”

  I had an attack of bravery. I might have another one, you can’t ever tell. “Will you listen to me?” When he subsided, she went on. “What happens if these people—this agency—believes you about Kit? There’s nothing stopping them from making you disappear. The implications—”

  He made a small, annoyed movement. “They already know, or they wouldn’t be sending me somewhere four agents bit it. Chilwell wouldn’t have paid me, either. Don’t you think I’m accounting for that? How stupid do you think I am?” He took a deep breath, his ribs rising under her fingers, and she had the sudden urge to tickle him. She knew just where the sensitive spots were.

  After a moment, he continued. “I know what I’m doing, Anna. You just have to trust me. Is it so fucking hard?”

  “Josiah—”

  He overrode her whisper. “I am already doing what you wanted me to do. I’m getting you your goddamn revenge. There. Are you happy? I’m going to kill them because I thought for a few hours that they’d killed you, goddammit. Don’t you get it?”

  It was her turn to reach up, lay a finger
against his lips. Her thumb stroked his stubbled jaw, rasping. I don’t understand you at all, Josiah. I thought I did, but then I saw my brother murdered and twelve men killed in a church by a dead man who locked his fangs in their throats—the ones he didn’t outright murder, that is. I thought I understood; I was wrong. “I thought if I could make them pay…” There was something in her throat, a huge smooth egg of despair.

  “You thought it would bring him back.” His lips moved against her skin. He caught her hand, squeezed just a little, kissed her fingertips.

  And here I thought I was just being brave. Maybe he was right, though. Sharp pain speared her chest. “Let’s just both go, just get out of here. Give Kit his ring and get the hell out. We can take the file with us—”

  “Something else you don’t understand.” He had shifted from a whisper to a murmur, a thin thread of sound. “The ring wasn’t in Eric’s PO box. I don’t know where it is. If I blow town now he might come after us.”

  The stone in her throat swelled. She shivered. He hugged her, pressed her fingers against his lips for another brief, silent kiss.

  “Listen to me,” he whispered, soft and distinct. “If I don’t finish this off, you won’t be safe. I thought something had happened to you. I thought you were dead or worse, Anna. I never want to feel that way again. One way or another, I am taking those motherfuckers down. And if I can manage to eliminate Corpse Boy as well, I will. He’s a threat to you, and I will not allow threats to you. Is that clear?”

  “Shh.” She pressed her fingers against his mouth, hoping it would calm him down. “Be quiet.”

  “You’d better understand.” He stroked her hair, his lips moving against her skin. “You had just better.”

  “Be quiet. You’ll wake them up.”

  He did calm down, at least audibly. Kept stroking her hair. A slight movement ran through him once, scalp to toes, a subtle frisson she wouldn’t have felt if she hadn’t been so close.