Affliction ab-22

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  I tried to calm myself down, because I couldn’t even think past the thought of how many times Micah went out of town to talk to different groups. No one could win that many fights in a month and have no injuries to show for it, and Micah wasn’t big enough, or physical enough … He was a leader, but not that kind.

  ‘Ease down, Domino,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to lose you because of something stupid.’

  He bit his lower lip and shook his head, as if I’d asked him another question.

  ‘I’ll let it go, because honestly your reaction just now is answer enough.’

  He took a few deep, even breaths and I felt him shove the heat of his beast back in its metaphorical box. I was finally able to shield enough that I’d only felt it as heat and not as a tiger. My own cats hadn’t even tried to surface. I was getting better at this. We all were. I just didn’t know how much better Micah had gotten at parts of it, like lying to me.

  Domino finally spoke in a low, careful voice as if he were fighting to control even that. ‘I swear to you that Micah doesn’t fight every time he leaves town. Diplomacy and … softer methods work most of the time.’

  ‘What does softer methods mean?’ I asked.

  Domino’s power spiked like a fever burning against my skin.

  ‘Let it go for now, Anita,’ Nicky said. He moved so he was blocking the police’s view of Domino.

  I counted slowly to ten, though without being able to do the deep breathing that should have gone with it, it wasn’t nearly as calming. ‘I won’t ask you any more questions right now, Domino, I promise.’

  I couldn’t see around Nicky’s body, but I could feel that another wereanimal was coming closer. Their energy breathed along my skin like a breath of hot air. This power stirred my beasts and I ‘saw’ in my mind’s eye my hyena stand up and shake itself like the big dog she resembled. She started trotting down a long, sunlit hallway that was usually shadowed, but the hyena trotted in the light, and tall yellowed grass appeared for her to do a curious sideways lope of a run. She moved so awkwardly compared to the cats, or the wolf, but she was still coming, and if I didn’t get control of her the hyena would try to burst out of my body and become real, but I was angry. Anger made everything harder to control. I was angry and afraid, because Micah was my size and no matter how tough you are, when fighters are equally trained, size matters. The thought of Micah going up against someone Nicky’s or Dev’s size made my skin run cold. The fear seemed to puzzle the hyena because she whimpered and sat down looking at me with those odd brown eyes, such a human color if the pupils hadn’t been slitted like a cat’s.

  ‘Control yourself,’ Nicky said, softly.

  I closed my eyes and tried. I fought for calm, fought to find my still center, but Micah was my still center, and he’d been risking his life for years and I hadn’t known. I felt stupid. Had I really thought that diplomacy alone had made all those animal groups across the country join our Coalition? Yeah, I had. I’d had faith in Micah’s ability to persuade, to lead, to manipulate and bargain. I even knew that he had done all those things. I knew that he had slept with some of the female shapeshifters to seal the deal, or to gain allies who would help persuade the group leaders to our way. That was probably what Domino meant by softer means; Micah had told me about the sex, because he hadn’t wanted me to find out from anyone else. But the few times he’d come home injured, or with injured guards, he’d told me it just got out of hand, but in the end they had persuaded them. Had Micah ever come home without the group agreeing to join us, eventually? No, he hadn’t.

  I was calm again, but it was the calm of water. It’s only still until the next breeze touches it. I opened my eyes.

  Nicky looked down at me. ‘You okay for this?’

  I nodded.

  He stepped to one side and I was looking at Socrates. His skin was the color of coffee with one cream in it, his tightly curled hair cut tight on the sides and long on top, a lot like Domino’s hair, but Socrates’ hair was thick enough that it stayed in the nearly square top-layer shape almost like a hedge trimmed into a desired shape. His eyes were brown, but not the brown of the animal sitting inside my head now. Socrates’ eyes were perfectly human.

  The hyena sniffed the air and made a laughing, cackling sound that raised the hair on my arms. I had a moment to wonder if I’d made the sound out loud with my human mouth and throat, but I didn’t think so.

  Socrates rubbed his arms underneath his suit jacket. It gave me a glimpse of the gun at his waist. He was an ex-cop who’d been cut up when he helped bust an inner-city gang that had werehyenas for their enforcers. He’d been a hero, they’d cleaned out the gang, but he’d lost his badge and the job he loved.

  ‘When did you gain my beast?’ he whispered.

  ‘When a bullet went through Ares and into me,’ I said.

  ‘It should take until the next full moon for you to manifest your hyena. That’s two more weeks, but I feel it, smell it on you.’

  ‘I’m precocious,’ I said.

  ‘You’re something, all right,’ he said, rubbing his arms again.

  ‘You go out of town with Micah sometimes, don’t you?’

  ‘Why ask it like that, Anita? You know I have.’

  I looked at him, just looked at him.

  He looked past me to Domino. The look was angry, and eloquent, and seemed to be saying, How could you be this stupid? with a slight eyebrow raise and a tiny tilt to his head.

  Domino’s power flared again. ‘I said nothing.’

  Socrates’ look didn’t believe him, and neither did the rest of Socrates.

  ‘Did you really think I’d never figure it out?’ I asked.

  He looked at me then and said, ‘I don’t know what you think you’ve figured out, so I can’t speak to it.’

  ‘Don’t you lie to me, Socrates, not anymore.’

  Gonzales started walking this way. My watching him made Socrates glance back, too. We had the attention of all the cops. I was letting my emotions get in the way of business, oh, hell, in the way of common sense. Cops are a curious lot, especially about anyone they may have to trust their lives to, so us arguing among ourselves wasn’t going to reassure any of them.

  ‘Is there a problem, Anita?’ he asked.

  If I said no, he’d know it was a lie, but … ‘No,’ I said, and the no was very firm, very certain. I’d actually made a waitress cry once by saying no. Gonzales didn’t cry – he was made of sterner stuff than that – but he understood that it was an absolutely unmovable negative. Sometimes I spoke too forcefully and made waitresses cry by accident, but sometimes it was exactly the amount of force needed to stop people from asking me anything.

  Gonzales looked at me, then looked from one to the other of the men. ‘Okay, how are you feeling? You looked a little green.’

  ‘Let’s just say I’m wishing I’d stuck to something more liquid for lunch.’

  He gave a little chuckle, but his eyes stayed wary and he did another glance around at all the men. His gaze came back to me and he showed me those suspicious cop eyes that said clearly I was full of shit and he didn’t believe me. Didn’t believe what, you might ask? He was a ten-year-plus veteran police officer; he didn’t believe a damn thing that anyone told him.

  A man called out from down the hallway. ‘I thought you were tough, Blake. I hear you just tossed your lunch for no reason whatsoever.’ It was Travers come to give moral support to Sheriff Callahan, and to continue to be a pain in my ass.

  ‘What’s your problem, Travers?’ I asked, and it was a little loud just like his comment had been, because we were at the ends of the hallway from each other.

  ‘You, you and your … men are my problem.’ He was walking toward us.

  I moved around Gonzales and started moving to meet Travers.

  ‘Anita,’ Socrates said, ‘don’t …’

  I turned, pointed a finger at him, and just said, ‘Don’t even.’

  Nicky caught up with me. ‘What are you going to do?’r />
  I realized that Travers was looking for a fight and so was I. I stopped walking and said, ‘Fuck.’

  He smiled at me.

  But Travers didn’t have any voice of reason with him; he was just this big, angry guy waiting for someone to take the first swing so he could swing back. His body language screamed, Give me an excuse.

  ‘What are you smiling at?’ Travers asked.

  I realized he was asking Nicky, who turned and looked at him. Travers wasn’t a rookie, he should have understood what that look meant, but he bristled, hands going into fists. Nicky planted one foot so he’d be able to pivot into his swing. I took a step ahead of him.

  ‘Anita,’ Nicky said.

  ‘It’s okay, Nicky.’

  ‘It’s not okay, Nicky,’ Travers said, doing a bad and unflattering imitation of me.

  ‘Travers, we are not going to let you use us to pick your fight.’

  ‘They’ll fight back, Blake, they can’t help it. You kick a dog, it’ll bite you.’

  ‘They aren’t dogs, Travers, nothing that domesticated.’

  ‘No, not domesticated, pussy-whipped.’

  ‘What is with everyone here and that phrase?’ I asked.

  Travers was right in front of us now. His hands were still fists; his arms were actually vibrating with anger. He wanted, almost needed, to hit something. ‘You always hide behind your girlfriend, Nicky?’

  ‘No,’ Nicky said, and his no, like mine, was very firm, very sure of itself, and left no room for anything but the negative. He started to move closer to Travers, but I stepped between them.

  I let down some of my shields, not all, not even all the way down, but enough so that when I touched Travers’s arm I could draw on his anger. Being able to feed on sex was Jean-Claude’s power, but I could also feed on anger and that was my power, my special little talent slice. I’d practiced until I could take the edge off someone’s anger, like skimming off the anger, rage-filled cream, leaving bland but healthier milk behind.

  I didn’t so much feed on his anger, because that could cause confusion and get noticed by the other police. I sort of licked away a little bit of his anger, like taking the cherry off a milkshake.

  Travers frowned, and looked lost for a second, and then he jerked back, holding his arm as if it hurt where I’d touched him. ‘What did you do to me?’

  ‘Why were you angry at us?’ I asked quietly.

  He shook his head, rubbing his arm. ‘Do me a favor, Blake; next time I’m about to die don’t save me, and don’t have any of your damn vampires save me either.’

  ‘You’d rather have rotted to death in excruciating pain than had Truth suck the corruption out of you?’

  He looked at me, and there was real pain in his eyes. He whispered, ‘Yes.’ Looking into his eyes from touching distance, I knew he meant it. Something about Truth feeding on him had disturbed him so badly that he had decided dying was preferable.

  I don’t know what my expression was, but Travers suddenly turned around and walked fast for the elevators. He was still holding his arm.

  Gonzales said, ‘What did you do to him just now?’

  ‘Just calmed his anger a little, I swear.’

  ‘Do we care what happens to Travers?’ Nicky asked.

  ‘Care in what way?’ I asked.

  ‘Care if he lives or dies?’

  ‘Truth risked his own life to save Travers, so yeah, alive would be good.’

  ‘Then put him on suicide watch,’ Socrates said from behind us.

  I turned and looked at him. ‘Why?’ I asked.

  ‘After I found out that I had lycanthropy and they were giving me a commendation for bravery and taking my badge, I thought about eating my gun. I know that look in someone’s eyes.’

  I looked at Nicky. ‘You know that look, too?’ I asked.

  ‘If I hadn’t had my brother and sister to keep safe, I’d have done it when I was a kid.’

  I knew what ‘it’ was: suicide. Nicky had just told me he’d thought seriously about suicide when he was a teenager, or hell, maybe younger. I didn’t know how old he’d been when the abuse started.

  I took his hand in mine and didn’t care if the other cops saw. I’d already thrown up for no real reason; they’d take points off for that. If they wanted to take more points off for me holding my lover’s hand, let them. In that moment it was more important to reassure Nicky than to be the toughest badge in the room.

  Nicky looked down at our clasped hands and smiled. That one smile was worth the teasing I might get for the hand holding.

  ‘Why would your vampire friend saving his life make Travers suicidal?’ Gonzales asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Socrates said, ‘but something about it spooked him.’

  The door to the room opened, and it was Micah. He didn’t have dark circles under his eyes; it was more as if the lack of rest had worn away some of the skin underneath his eyes so that he looked hollow-eyed and beyond exhausted. I’d seen him go with less sleep for longer and look a lot better, but sometimes it’s not the number of hours, but what those hours hold that wears you down.

  I’d been so angry with him just minutes before, but seeing those beautiful green-and-yellow eyes so tired, so discouraged, I just wanted to make it better. I let go of Nicky’s hand and went to Micah.

  He looked almost surprised, and then as I wrapped my arms around him, held him close, he held me back and buried his face in my hair. His breath shuddered, and then I felt something hot and liquid trailing down my neck. Everything that comes from the body is hot for a second or two, and then it leaves the body, touches the air, and loses its heat. Nothing showed that he was crying; his shoulders did not shake, he was almost utterly still, and with his face buried in my curls no one else could see what I could feel, his tears falling hot along my skin, then growing cooler as they flowed down my neck.

  I held him, let his tears paint their salty trail across my skin, and I couldn’t be mad at him; the only thing I could do in that moment was hold him. It didn’t seem like much, but sometimes when everything else goes to hell, arms to hold you tight is everything.

  68

  Gonzales drove Beatrice home with promises from the police left in the hallway that they’d call at the first sign of any change. She kissed Micah and me good-bye and left without apologizing for having fallen apart. I’d have felt compelled to apologize, but that was me. Socrates took Domino back to the hotel, where he could release his inner tiger in peace and without getting shot by the police. Socrates also wanted to be farther away from me and my newfound inner hyena. He actually said, ‘You have a tendency to find your animal to call pretty quickly, and that’s not what we are to each other.’

  ‘That’s not what I am to any of the hyenas,’ I said.

  ‘Then I’d stay clear of us for a while,’ he said.

  It was good advice.

  I persuaded Micah to come to the cafeteria with us. Nicky came with us, of course, but so did Micah’s remaining bodyguard, Bram. He was still six feet of tall, dark, handsome, overly stern muscle, though he was built lean and not bulked the way Nicky was. Bram and Ares had been like light and dark copies of each other in so many ways. It was the first time I’d seen Bram since I’d had to shoot his favorite coworker and good friend. I wasn’t sure what to say to him or if I was supposed to say anything. When in doubt on personal stuff I did my usual: nothing. If Bram brought it up I’d deal, but if he didn’t I’d let it go until I could decide if and how to handle it.

  Nicky went in front of us, Bram trailed behind, and Micah and I walked in the middle holding hands. He knew to hold my left hand so my gun hand was free. It was routine for me most of the time, but especially so when on the job and armed to the teeth for vampire hunting. It was nice that Micah remembered even under such emotional duress without my having to remind him. I loved him a lot for many reasons, but one of the biggest was his calm acceptance of this part of my life. Of course, knowing his dad had been a police officer the entir
e time Micah was growing up helped explain why he was okay with it.

  We chose a table that put us in a corner so we had two walls at our backs and a line of sight through damn near every part of the cafeteria. Bram and Nicky moved to a table beside ours, automatically, like bodyguards do when they’re trying to give you some privacy and still keep you safe.

  It was a little weird for Nicky to go back into bodyguard mode and act as if he and Bram were the same to Micah and me. Nicky lived with us, traveling back and forth from the Circus of the Damned to the house in Jefferson County. He was the person most likely to be by my side when I wasn’t with Micah, Nathaniel, or Jean-Claude. It seemed like it should make a difference, but I did want alone time with Micah. We needed to have a serious talk, maybe several serious talks, but first he needed food and water, or maybe coffee.

  We turned our chairs so that we could both have our backs to the wall and sit with our legs lightly touching. He kept hold of my hand and laid his forehead on my shoulder. Again, it would have been a bit more romantic without the body armor, but I was on the job and had an active warrant, plus last time I’d been in the hospital I’d needed the vest.

  I stroked the braid of his hair. It was in a tight French braid, which I knew Nathaniel had done before he left for the hotel. Neither Micah nor I could French-braid worth a damn, let alone our own hair. It wasn’t as fun to pet his hair in the braid, but I knew that it would stay out of his face and just be overall easier to deal with than almost any other hairdo.

  He raised his face and I was suddenly looking into those amazing eyes of his from inches away. They were green and gold, but that didn’t do them justice. There was a ring of green around the pupils and yellow outside that. The amount of each color varied as the pupil expanded or contracted, and in dim light the green could look almost gray, but right at that moment the green was the paleness of new spring leaves, and the yellow the gold of elm leaves in the fall, as if he held both the newness of the year and the end of it in his eyes. The color was more startling because his skin had those darker undertones; when he had his dark summer tan the eyes were even more amazing. He’d tanned as dark as Richard Zeeman, our Ulfric, Wolf King, but his family did have Native American in their background. I’d asked Micah if his family had Native American, or Hispanic blood, like me, in their background and he’d simply said no. It was interesting that it had never occurred to him to explain his own mixed heritage. Either he never thought about it like that, or he’d assumed it wouldn’t matter to any of us.