He almost needed to shout to hear himself over the sound of the thumping bass. “Hey,” Jasper said, standing awkwardly on the outside of the little group.
“Hey yourself,” said the man he didn’t know, grinning and moving closer to Crimson to allow him space in the circle. Jasper didn’t think he was a werespider, he felt different than Crimson did, but he wasn’t sure exactly what he was. If forced to guess, he’d put his money on werewolf. He had that predatory animal way about him.
“You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, Alan,” Crimson said mildly, tipping back his drink. “Jasper doesn’t like demons.”
“Give me five minutes and a dark room and I could change his mind,” Alan said.
Jasper resisted the urge to zip up his jacket as the demon raked his eyes up and down his body, and glared at him instead.
“While I’d like to see you try, you’d better not. He’s very sensitive.”
“I am not,” Jasper insisted hotly, proving Crimson’s point.
Crimson waved a hand dismissively in his direction and turned the rest of his attention to Alan. Setting his empty glass on the bar behind them, he trapped Alan in the cage of his arms. Alan looked delighted to be caught. “I’ll take you up on that dark room,” Crimson said, hands going to the werewolf’s hips. “We’re gonna need more than five minutes, though.”
Alan grinned, wide and mischievous. “Abby, stay with Jason.”
“Jasper,” she corrected, her voice soft and dreamy, as if she were somewhere far away from here.
“Sure, whatever. Stay with him. Me and Charlotte will be back later.” He and Crimson entered the crowd and quickly disappeared. Jasper didn’t need to follow them to figure out what they were up to. He wasn’t an idiot.
Abby slipped her small hand into his, and Jasper jerked his away as if her touch had burned him. The demon didn’t seem to take offence or even notice.
“Wanna dance?” she asked, her voice barely there beneath the beat.
“No.”
She merely stared at him with her wide, empty eyes, and Jasper assumed she couldn’t hear him.
Leaning closer, he shook his head, speaking louder. “No, thank you.”
Still giving no indication that she understood, Abby kept staring at him. It was starting to creep him out. He tried to ignore her and waited for Crimson to return, but found the room was too warm and too loud. Twice Jasper was jostled by thrashing bodies, though he was standing nowhere near the dance floor. This was a stupid idea.
He turned to the bar behind him and tried to get the tender’s attention. “Can I, uh, just get a Sprite or 7 Up or whatever?”
The woman behind the bar had pink and purple hair, several hoops in different parts of her face, and a thick application of eyeliner. She looked at him for a beat too long, reminding him of the werewolf that hung by his side, before she turned to get his drink. What she put before him was dark red in color and garnished with an orange peel. It was decidedly not Sprite.
“Uh, I’m sorry, but I think you got my drink wrong.”
“No, I didn’t,” she replied. “You did.”
Before he could question her further, she was gone, leaving the dark red drink for him. He took a small sip. It was sweet and dry and definitely almost entirely alcohol. He took another drink. Damn, that went down easy. These things were dangerous. He had to keep his head. Jasper set it down on the bar and looked at the crowd.
Twenty minutes later Abby asked him again if he wanted to dance. The club was hot and smelled of booze and too many bodies. “Let’s go outside,” he suggested.
Abby put her hand back in his, and this time he let her. She was small, and Jasper could easily imagine the crowd taking her away.
They fought their way outside, where the air was cooler and clearer. Jasper dropped her hand. The pressure that had been building at the back of his head eased. He took a deep, even breath, letting the night air clear his mind.
“So, uh—” Jasper turned to look at the werewolf, who was staring at him with those creepy, empty eyes “—have you known Crimson long?”
“A while.”
Jasper was going to ask her a question about Crimson’s other friends, who they were and what they did, but another question seemed more important in the moment. “Has he always been a dick?”
Abby nodded gravely and then leaned forward to look down the street as if watching traffic. It was late and this wasn’t the best part of town, so the road was empty except for a taxi parked with their light off halfway down the next block. She stepped back suddenly, her shoulder jarring Jasper’s arm. He grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling to the sidewalk, and just as quickly let go.
“What are you doing? Are you drunk or high or something?”
Abby shook her head as if to clear it rather than in answer. “It begins tonight,” she whispered, touching her fingertips to her own lips.
“Excuse me?” Was it possible for werewolves to have a stroke? Maybe she’d had way too much of… something. Jasper didn’t know enough about drugs to know what effects they’d have on a regular person let alone a demon.
“The doctor,” she said, looking at her fingertips and then, catching sight of him behind her hand, at Jasper.
“Do you need a doctor?”
Abby shook her head, and this time Jasper was pretty sure she was saying no. She frowned, two little lines appearing between her dark, thin brows, and grabbed his hand urgently. Jasper was too startled to pull away.
“The doctor,” she insisted. “He screams. There are monsters in the light and innocents in the shadows, and their faces run with blood. It’s already started… Crimson doesn’t know.”
“What doesn’t Crimson know?” The werespider’s voice surprised him, and Jasper pulled his hand out of Abby’s, stepping out of her limited reach. Crimson and Alan had finished whatever it was they had been doing (Jasper didn’t care to wonder about the details) and had found them outside, the beating bass following them out into the street until the door fell shut behind them. Crimson had a fresh cigarette in his mouth and an arm thrown across Alan’s shoulders. His voice was light and carefree, but as he narrowed his eyes and blew out a cloud of pale smoke, he looked anything but.
Jasper’s mind stalled. He didn’t have a sweet clue what Abby was talking about, but as far as things Crimson didn’t know went, he could think of something that would have a bullet in his head pretty quick. “Abby was just… telling me a story.”
Crimson quirked an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “Oh yeah? I’d love to hear it.”
“Um, well,” Jasper began, but Abby cut him off.
“The doctor,” she said, “he’s—”
“Oh, I know this one!” Alan interrupted. Out of the flashing colored lights of the club and into the yellow streetlight Jasper now saw just how blown his pupils were, black and wide, swallowing most of the deep brown of his irises. “So there’s this doctor—nah, wait, there’s two doctors, and they fuck, right? One’s a surgeon and she asks the other one if he’s an anesthesiologist, and he’s all like, ‘Yeah, man, how’d ya know,’ and she says, ‘Cuz I didn’t feel a thing’!” No one laughed. Alan shrugged. “Yeah, well, I guess Abs tells it better. Hey, you guys wanna hit up Moonlight next? I think it’s Leather and Lace night.”
“Um,” said Jasper. It sounded even worse than The Crystal Ballroom, and The Crystal Ballroom was pretty bad. “If it’s all the same, I think I’ll head back to the house.”
“You’re just no fucking fun, huh?” Alan asked lightly. “What about you, Legs? Are you comin’, or are you goin’?”
Crimson removed his arm from around Alan’s shoulders and considered, blowing an impressive smoke ring and snubbing the butt of his cigarette out under his boot. “I’ll go home too.”
“Boo, you whore. Fine. Be boring. Just give me a cigarette before you go.” Alan took the smoke that was offered to him, leaning in close for Crimson to light it. “Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He wi
nked at Jasper and took Abby’s hand.
After they walked away, Crimson turned and started back towards his neighborhood. Jasper jogged after him.
“So.” Jasper broke the moody silence. “That guy—Alan? He’s your, uh, boyfriend?”
Crimson laughed once, the sound harsh and mean. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s nobody. Why’re you askin’? Interested?”
“No.” Jasper shoved his hands into his pockets, warmth blooming across his cheeks. “I told you I’m not into that.”
There was that mean laugh again. “Whatever you say, man. Whatever. You. Say.”
Chapter Six
—
Werespider Family Values
The gunmetal burns freezing cold against his palm. He adjusts his hand on the grip and stops to shake out his numb fingers. In all the excitement he’s forgotten his gloves. They’re probably lying at the foot of Adam’s bed, where he tossed them in order to fight with the tricky lock on the window so they could sneak out.
“We must be close,” Adam whispers. “What’s your hunch say?”
A feeling deep in his gut leads them forward, pulling them along like a fish on a line. “We’re close,” says Jasper, and he is rewarded with Adam’s dazzling smile. Jasper grins back, bumping their shoulders together. “You ready?”
“Born ready,” says Adam. He slaps Jasper’s shoulder, his palm lingering long enough that Jasper imagines the touch warming him through, chasing away the chill of the November night.
Ahead in the distance is a scream. It is human only in memory.
They run towards it.
#
Jasper jerked awake, hand already outstretched for his gun. His fingers encountered only empty air. He sat up, heart racing, still grasping like the weapon would appear. Then he became aware of the dusky sunlight as it filtered through the half-closed curtains and caught on the table between the two beds. Someone had moved the Glock there, putting it just a little out of reach.
“You talk in your sleep,” said the werespider. He was in the kitchen, the coffee machine bubbling as he let a cupboard slam closed. He pulled himself up so that he was sitting on the counter, knocking his heels against the cabinets and half-watching Jasper with that weird, unsettling stillness. Oh God, what had he said? There were a million things he didn’t want the werespider to know, but he didn’t exactly look ready to rip his lungs out.
Jasper pushed the comforter off himself, the sweat cooling on his body. “No, I don’t.”
The werespider’s steady gaze didn’t leave him. “Who’s Adam?”
Jasper was saved from answering when a soft, insistent buzzing sounded from the jacket Crimson had left by the door. He was up off the counter and on the other side of the room in a flash.
Cell phone pinched between his shoulder and ear, he gestured with his thumb to indicate he needed to take the call, and then dipped out of the room, even as he spoke a “Hello?”
By the time he got back, the coffee had finished brewing, but he ignored it, grabbing his jacket instead. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”
“Where to?” asked Jasper.
“Out.”
The Hunter grabbed his backpack. “I’ll come with you.”
Crimson pulled his jacket on and dug a pair of sunglasses out of one of the many pockets. Jasper couldn’t tell with the dark glass covering his eyes, but he thought Crimson was giving him one of those looks again, like he was trying to make sense of him. “No, thanks,” the werespider said eventually.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m having a demon problem, and I don’t want to intermix that with babysitting duties,” growled Crimson.
“I’m good at demon problems,” said Jasper, choosing not to bite back this time.
“Are you always this needy and annoying? Or do I just really bring it out in ya?”
Crimson was the most annoying, attention-seeking man he’d ever met, demon, human or otherwise. “I was just trying to help.”
“Will you stop pouting if I let you come?”
Jasper chanced an optimistic smile and nodded.
“Fine.” Crimson grabbed his holsters and strapped them on, fixing his battered leather jacket to hide them. Without another word he turned and disappeared down the stairs.
Jasper wanted a cup of coffee, but it didn’t look like the werespider was going to wait up. He grabbed his weapons and pulled his jacket on, jogging after him.
The afternoon was bright and sunny. Jasper was delighted. Crimson was irritated. When they passed under the shade of the trees lining the crooked path, the red gleam of his eyes could be seen through the black lenses of his Wayfarers. It was three p.m. and the sun would not set for many hours.
“So, what are we doing?”
“A friend of mine is in trouble,” replied Crimson.
Jasper thought of the werewolves they’d spoken to the other night and frowned. “What kind of friend?”
“The helpless kind.” Crimson walked at a quick clip, pausing only to glance in the windows of parked cars. “He’s gotten himself into a sort of hostage situation with my cousins.”
“Your, uh…” Jasper hesitated. “Werespider cousins?” He wasn’t expecting that. The werespider was supposed to be alone.
“Look, man, it’s really complicated.” Crimson stopped beside a parked Buick and drew a coil of nylon string from an interior pocket of his jacket. “Stand closer to me and try not to look so much like you’re stealing a car.”
“I’m not stealing a car.”
Crimson gave him a sarcastic thumbs-up. “Really excellent. You’re doing great, kid.”
Realizing he wasn’t going to be deterred by something as simple as the law, Jasper shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the door, blocking the view from oncoming traffic. The nearest pedestrian was all the way on the other side of the street, near the crosswalk, but it still felt like every passenger in every car that drove by knew exactly what they were doing. “Will you at least hurry up?”
Crimson gave a noncommittal grunt. He tied a slipknot in the center of the string and pushed it into the car via the door crack then gradually worked the two ends down along the crease until the knot appeared on the other side of the windowpane. After a few more seconds, the open noose was around the locking knob. Crimson pulled both ends tight and gave them a hard tug. The slipknot closed around the stem and there was a quick, clicking pop. He opened the door and held it for Jasper. “Get in.”
“I thought you were the only werespider in New York,” said Jasper, reluctantly scrambling into the passenger’s side and reaching across the driver’s seat to unlock the door. Crimson climbed in and immediately began messing with the steering column. He ripped the plastic covering almost all the way off and produced a small penknife from his sleeve. He was in the middle of stripping a wire when his gaze swiveled suddenly and curiously in Jasper’s direction.
“Why do you say that?”
Oh hell. Why had he said that?
“I’ve just never seen any others,” he improvised. Then, not wanting to pursue the conversation any further, he added, “Why would your cousins kidnap your friend?”
Crimson squinted at him suspiciously over his dark lenses and seemed about to say something, but a buzzing sound inside his jacket stopped him. He twisted together the two stripped wires he was holding, and the old car rumbled to life. Throwing it in reverse, he snatched the phone out of his jacket, flipped it open, and barked into the receiver, “Seriously, Sid, fuck off for like five seconds, okay? I’m on my way.”
The car lurched back, narrowly avoiding the one parallel parked directly behind them. Crimson shifted into drive and stomped on the gas, propelling them forward into a cacophony of angrily blaring horns and shrieking rubber.
Jasper grabbed the belt over his shoulder as the momentum of the car pushed him down into his seat, and quickly snapped the buckle in place, but felt no safer. Crimson was entirely focused on barreling through traffic at a speed that felt both
dangerous and unnecessary and hadn’t answered his question. “So, since you’re not going to like… elaborate or anything, I’m going to guess they took this guy for leverage,” ventured Jasper after several moments.
Crimson tapped a finger to the tip of his own nose and nodded in Jasper’s direction with half a grin. “Wow, I sure am lucky, having an attractive ace detective like yourself along. Here all this time I thought you didn’t have a clue.”
Jasper’s cheeks burned. He opened his mouth to ask if he thought he was being funny (his tone implied yes) or if he was being dead serious (it was difficult to judge), and nearly bit his tongue off as the demon slammed on the brakes. The front tires locked, and the tail end of the vehicle swept around with a shriek. The vehicle came to rest alongside the curb with a jounce, but Jasper didn’t feel like his stomach had caught up to the halt until after he’d gotten his seatbelt unbuckled. Crimson was halfway out of the car and moving with purpose. Jasper closed his door and jogged after him.
The air outside tasted hot and smoky with the afterburn of the tires. He caught up to Crimson in only a few steps. “I hate to ask, but there’s a plan or something you’re forgetting to let me in on, right?”
Crimson reined up. “Oh yeah. The plan. Uh, well… See, what we’re going to do is go into this big building over here—” he made a sweeping gesture across the vacant parking lot beside them, to the large factory hunkered on the other side “—and then we’re going to get my friend, Alcander, and then we’re going to leave.”
For his entire life, Jasper had thought of a good plan being the absolute difference between life and death. When he went on a mission, he had plans for his plans and backups for those, and if all failed, he had an eye on every exit sign available. “That… can’t be your entire plan.”
“Well,” said Crimson, “it hits all the important bits. We just do whatever it is we need to do to accomplish all of those things in that order. Oh! But I should tell you, Alcander’s really small.” He made a gesture to indicate just how small, but surely must have exaggerated. His level palm was held barely above the height of his own elbow. “Dark hair. Pale. Really pale. He doesn’t get out much, and he’s scared of everything except his own shadow. So no shooting him. Anyone else is fair game.”
Strangers in the Night Page 6