Jasper’s heart flew into his throat. Charlie rarely contacted him without his having been contacted first, and always from a different burner phone with a code word to make certain it was safe, but he didn’t want Crimson anywhere near that phone. He reached for it. Crimson lifted it over his shoulder and put a hand flat on Jasper’s chest to hold him at bay.
“No way, she’ll think you’re a fuckin’ stalker.” He wasn’t actually looking at the phone, just trying to keep it away from him. Jasper relaxed. Crimson held up a finger. “One day. Contact her in the evening, and don’t try to make plans for the same day. That’s obnoxious.”
“I guess if anyone would know anything about being obnoxious, it’d be you,” said Jasper with a grin not entirely ingenuine. “Now give me my phone back.”
“You could get it back yourself if you weren’t so short.”
“I am not short.” Jasper was a hair over six feet tall, not much smaller than the werespider. “You’re just freakishly big.”
Crimson winked. “You should see the rest of me.”
Alcander sighed at them from behind his laptop. It seemed like the only times he was away from the thing were when he was sleeping or bathing. “Will you please just give him his phone back?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Crimson dropped the phone in his outstretched hand. “Let me know if your hot date has a cute friend. If you’re lucky, we can go together, and I’ll make sure you don’t screw it up.”
As it turned out, Lindsay did have a friend, and they had plans to go clubbing over the weekend. Lindsay said she was sure it would be alright if he and Crimson joined them, which was somewhat of a relief. It would be less awkward to go in a group, even if it meant it wouldn’t be exactly the same as what he considered a date. So, three days later, he found himself standing in a club, scanning faces in search of hers. She spotted them before he spotted her, and she stood on the footrest of her barstool, waving them over.
“Hi!” she yelled. She had to yell. It was the only way to hear anything in these places. She kissed him quickly on the cheek and grinned, holding his gaze for a long moment before making a sort of “oops” expression and drawing away. “Sorry! I almost forgot!” She gestured beside her to a tall, shapely woman in knee-high lace-up boots and an off-the-shoulder black dress. She was a little older than Lindsay, but not by much. “This is my friend Cindy!” She and Crimson were already looking at each other, both in surprised delight.
“Holy shit,” said Crimson. “Is Cindy short for Cinderella? Because you look like a princess.”
“Wow,” said Cindy. Her hand went to her lips, trying to cover a grin. “That was really bad. Do you say that to every girl named Cindy?”
“Not yet. Should I start?”
She shook her head, still smiling. “Probably not.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Crimson. “I’m Johnny.” He offered her his hand, and she took it with a firm shake. “Do you wanna dance?”
“Sure, why not?” They both took off into the crowd, and Lindsay grabbed Jasper’s arm.
“C’mon.”
He and Crimson had shared two drinks at the in-house bar back at the hotel before coming, and though he didn’t exactly feel drunk enough to dance yet, he felt buzzed enough to try. If only to appease Lindsay. He had been completely trashed when they’d done it before, and he remembered little else but brief flashes—standing on the back patio with dozens of other people clustered together like cattle while he tried to clumsily light her cigarette, doing Irish Car Bombs at the bar, the touch of her nails on the back of his neck, a peal of Crimson’s laughter, a loud pulsing rhythm with a chaotic under beat that seemed to permeate the entire night. It seemed like he had been able to feel that rhythm in his body, and he hadn’t had to think much about how he moved to it, but now he felt unsure.
He tried to remember everything Crimson had told him about dancing (“The most important rule,” he said, “is loosening the fuck up.”) and moved to the beat. For all the grace he had in a fight, on the dance floor he struggled to keep the rhythm and just hoped he looked too cool to care rather than entirely hopeless.
If Lindsay had a problem with his dancing, she hid it well, giving him a smile as she raised her arms above her head, shaking her hair. She looked very pretty under the flashing lights, so he took a chance and kissed her, quickly and gently, on the lips. “Sorry,” he said almost immediately. “I just thought—”
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, getting up on her toes so she could press her lips more firmly against his. As they drew apart, the song tapered off. Lindsay smiled at him and pointed towards the bar, a question in her expression. He nodded and took her hand. It was easier for him to get through the crowd than it was for her, so he led the way.
Cindy and Crimson were already at the bar, though they looked a lot less thrilled with each other than they had earlier. Crimson leaned on his elbows with his arms folded on the counter and glared down into his drink. Cindy said something to him several times, but he barely seemed to be paying any attention to her.
When he and Lindsay approached, Cindy stood suddenly, grabbed her purse, and marched over to Lindsay. “We’re going to the bathroom.”
“Oh… kay…” said Lindsay and was almost immediately dragged away. She shrugged helplessly at Jasper over her shoulder and trotted along behind her friend.
Jasper stumbled over and hopped on the stool beside the werespider. “She kissed me.”
“Oh, yeah?” asked Crimson. He half-raised his glass in Jasper’s direction and gave him a nod. “Congratulations.” He threw back the rest of the drink and clapped the glass down on the bar.
“She’s really cool, right? Like really cool.”
“Yeah, she seems great,” agreed Crimson. Jasper blinked at his unenthusiastic tone, and Crimson must have read the expression on his face because he cracked a smile. “I’m not being sarcastic, Jazz. I’m really happy for ya. I just don’t really like Cindy all that much. Not my type. Think I’m actually gonna take off here soon.”
“You’re going home?” It was strange how quickly a place could seem like “home” sometimes. “It’s barely midnight.”
“Yeah, I already told Cindy I had to go soon. She’s really susceptible to the pheromones or something. She’s already getting all weird and possessive; plus she keeps calling me sugar.” This time he was sure he didn’t imagine the look of disgust Crimson made at the endearment. “Must be a Southern thing. It’s really annoying, and I really don’t wanna deal with it.”
“I’ll go with you, then.” He didn’t want to be left alone with the girls. He barely knew them. Besides which, Crimson was acting weird, and though he definitely thought the werespider could stand to be knocked down a peg or two (or three or ten or twenty), he didn’t like how quiet he was being.
“Thanks, kid. But I’ll be fine. You should stay. Have fun. Give us somethin’ to talk about back at the hotel.”
Only it didn’t give them anything to talk about back at the hotel because by the time Jasper got back, the werespider was already in bed. He woke up briefly when Jasper turned on the TV, and vaguely watched whatever was playing, but drifted off again before long.
When evening came again, Jasper was up before Crimson, which wasn’t unusual. He shot a quick text message to Lindsay, telling her he’d had a really good time and that he hoped she had as well, then took a quick shower and ran to the nearby diner for breakfast. It was the only place close to the hotel that served pancakes in the afternoon, and it was usually quiet. He texted Charlie a coded message to let him know things were well and that he’d contact him with a full report once he could be certain he could do so without risking Crimson or Alcander nosing in, then deleted his history, finished his late afternoon breakfast, and went back to the hotel.
Alcander was up now, but Crimson still wasn’t. He grumbled in his sleep when Jasper closed and bolted the door.
Jasper checked the time.
It was after fi
ve p.m., and though the sun was still up, usually he would be awake by now. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he grabbed a dollar-bin paperback from his backpack and tried to read, but the book didn’t hold his attention long. He went over to Alcander instead. “What you up to, Al?”
Alcander snapped the laptop closed. “Nothing.”
Jasper couldn’t help himself. He felt suspicious and it showed before he could stop it.
“I was, uh… just checking on something. It isn’t important.” He set the computer aside, fixing his attention on Jasper. “Do the two of you have plans tonight?”
“I’m not sure,” said Jasper. “What about you? Big plans?” He tried to joke.
“I was thinking perhaps I would just stay in.” Alcander made a joke of his own. The vampire was an oddity he could not understand or explain. In all the time they spent there, he never once left the room, and he had no idea what he did when maid service came around to call—maybe just hid out on the balcony or in the closet or something. Not that they really needed maid service, since Al spent almost as much time cleaning as he did fucking around on the laptop. He was gentle in a way that defied words, soft spoken, but intelligent and thoughtful, and, vampire or no, Jasper liked him.
“Are you still working on that formula? For the synthetic blood?”
“It is difficult without a lab, but yes. It has all the chemical components, but I am afraid there is still something missing.”
“Can you guys really not just eat, like, animal blood?” That was what they fed the vampires they had in the holding cells at St. James, and though they often grew weak, it kept them alive. Jasper didn’t mention that for several reasons.
Alcander very nearly scowled. He drew his lips back down over his teeth, holding them in a straight line. “Animal blood is also lacking. You can technically drink it, and it will not kill you, but you run into a similar problem as with synthetic. Something is missing. And animal blood is just disgusting. Do you have any idea what percentage of other bodily fluids can be found in that?”
“Point taken,” Jasper said quickly. “Uh, please don’t tell me.” He was still suspicious about what was on that laptop and wondered if he’d ever get a chance to look at it. It didn’t seem very likely considering Al’s relationship with the thing.
“I apologize,” said Alcander. “It is just…” He struggled for a moment. “There are demons like me, who can survive through makeshift means, but all we do is survive. It is hard and it is miserable and obviously… obviously it is not for all of us. If I could find a way to replicate the blood in a way that was as functional and as desirable as the genuine article, I could end all of this. Neither of us would have to sacrifice our needs. No one would have to die.”
The agency had made many attempts to cure both vampirism and lycanthropy, but he did not know of any attempts to simply feed the demons in some other way. When a fox kept raiding the henhouse, you dealt with the problem by shooting the fox, not by leaving out kibble.
Even with such a solution in circulation, he doubted if the population at large would accept it any better than meat enthusiasts accepted veganism. Still… it was a noble goal, and with Crimson around to protect him, he might even survive long enough to succeed.
Unless…
A sensation of horror sank through him like an anchor through the sea.
Unless both of them ended up dead or locked in a cage at St. James.
“What about magic?” suggested Jasper, hoping his voice was not noticeably strained. He couldn’t do magic himself, but casters weren’t hard to come by in the city. “You’ve got money. Couldn’t you just hire a consultant… or…?”
“If the casters could magic up a flesh and blood alternative, they would be marketing it in droves by now,” said Alcander. “Anyway, I do not have the right sort of currency to hire a powerful witch or warlock. And the Hunting Agencies are always indoctrinating the reasonable ones early on.”
“But you’ve tried it?” asked Jasper.
“I’ve looked into it,” said Alcander. “And worked with magicians where I could. If such a spell exists, no one knows it.”
Jasper frowned slightly but shrugged, trying to school his expression into something more pleasant. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
The vampire nodded. “Thank you.”
He seemed from there content to keep to himself, but Jasper wasn’t done. “Hey, Al?”
“Yes?”
“When we first met…” He paused, glancing towards Crimson. The werespider seemed sound asleep, but he could never truly tell. “You, uh… recognized me, didn’t you?”
Alcander looked nervous. “What do you mean?”
“You said my name right as you were coming to.” The vampire probably didn’t remember, but Jasper still did. “How come?”
Alcander shifted uncomfortably and started to fidget with objects on the end table. “It was nothing, really. Crimson mentioned you to me, your name, where you had come from. He wanted to know if your story was legitimate.” Jasper was glad Charlie had deleted his records from the servers at St. James, building him a separate file to reflect his cover story. All Alcander would have found in his files was an exact mirror to the story he had told Crimson at Rascal’s. “That was a while back though,” added Alcander. “You should not worry about it. We know you would not harm us.”
“Of course not, Al.” With that, Jasper went back to his paperback, frowning.
Chapter Fourteen
—
New Friends
It took no small amount of effort, but he finally convinced Crimson to leave the hotel room. The werespider said he didn’t want to go to a bar. Or a club. Or a movie. He’d promised earlier that they would go to the beach, and when Jasper suggested it, he seemed resigned to the fact that they would actually have to go somewhere, and agreed.
They found a mostly deserted stretch of coast not far from where they were staying, and walked together just above the high-tide line. The climate was far too hot during the day and humid even in the evening, but with the cool mist of the sea spray, it was quite pleasant.
Eventually, they reached a dock, and Jasper decided it would probably be even nicer out over the water. Crimson followed him down the slick wooden walkway with the same extreme lack of enthusiasm as he’d had for the last two days, and when Jasper sat down at the end with his feet dangling over the side, just above the water, he followed suit.
The waves crashed and receded. Crashed and receded. After a while, the silence began to press. When it finally grew too heavy, Crimson spoke in a soft voice, nearly inaudible over the waves. “I’m, uh… sorry about what happened with Ivory.” It hadn’t been so long ago, but in the panicked race of the past month, it seemed to have attained a daunting distance, forgotten almost. Another life. “It was just…” He stopped. “I really thought…” He stopped again. Struggled. It was bizarre to see him, Crimson, at a loss for words. “It was so weird, y’know? I was sure—fucking sure you weren’t on the level.”
The werespider was looking out across the water, not towards him, and when he spoke again, Jasper was grateful that it was so. “I’m glad I was wrong.”
Jasper should have been excited to hear him say this, but he found he wasn’t. He watched Crimson absently flick a stray pebble out across the water.
Then the werespider turned to him and held out a hand, as if to shake. “Friends?”
“I thought we were already friends.” Jasper tried for a light, joking tone but fell short. He cleared his throat with a cough and took Crimson’s outstretched hand. It was warm and smooth in his, his grip firm and sure. “Friends,” he agreed. He was thankful for the cool sea breeze because he wasn’t feeling so hot right then.
“Alright then, it’s a deal.” Crimson let go of his hand and reclined instead on his palms, looking up at the sky, but then seemed to remember something. “No take backsies.” The light way he said it suggested he was kidding. What Jasper actually knew about Crimson sugg
ested he was not. Jasper made his lips smile back in a way that mimicked mild amusement, and then looked out across the water instead.
“I’m tired,” said Crimson after a while.
“You slept all day,” said Jasper. It was barely eleven p.m. “And most of yesterday.” Considering the amount the werespider usually slept (barely at all) this was extravagant. He wondered if werespiders got sick. Maybe it was the climate or something.
“Yeah. I know.”
“Do you want to go swimming or something?”
Crimson perked up slightly. “Sure.”
Jasper looked back down the length of the dock at the beach that stretched behind them. It was dark, but between the light coming off the city and from the half-full moon, he could see enough to believe they were alone. Way, way down the stretch of white sand, he saw the orange glow of a fire. It was far enough away that he did not worry. Jasper got to his feet and unzipped his sweater, dropping it to the worn wood beneath them. He was more careful removing his pistol, throwing the sleeve of his sweater over it before pulling off his T-shirt and dropping it on the pile. Next came his boots, his socks stuffed inside them.
He was undoing the button on his jeans when Crimson spoke. “Any excuse to take your clothes off in front of me, huh, Jazz?” He’d been so sullen that the joke was almost welcome.
“Shut up,” Jasper said mildly. He did wish he didn’t blush so easily; it wasn’t very good for his street cred. At least it was dark. “See those rocks over there?” He nodded to the coast.
“The caves?”
Jasper couldn’t see well enough in the darkness but was sure the werespider was right. “Yeah, the caves. I’ll race ya.” He stripped the rest of the way down to his boxers and, without waiting for Crimson, who was still fully dressed, coat and all, he jumped into the water.
It was warmer than he thought it would be, and beneath its surface the world was reduced to darkness and swirling, weighted silence. It helped clear his troubled mind.
He resurfaced to Crimson’s swearing. “You’re a fuckin’ cheater!” He threw his jacket back onto the dock, and Jasper turned and started paddling in the opposite direction as quickly as he could. He was almost at the mound of stones and was stretching out his hand to haul himself up when something snagged his ankle and dragged him back. He twisted around, kicking, and saw Crimson. “Now who’s cheating?” Planting his foot firmly on his chest, he pushed him back and slipped his hold. His back bumped against the stones and he flipped around to scramble quickly up them, his feet slipping and sliding on their slick, polished surface. A short distance upward, the ground levelled out to create a narrow shelf.
Strangers in the Night Page 17