Sully scrapped his plans of getting Chaz to shower and tucked him under the blankets instead. Along with a dozen bottles of iron supplements in his bathroom, Sully found the pain pills and put them and a glass of water by Chaz’s nightstand.
“Do you need anything else?” Sully asked. “Before I go?”
“You’re going?”
“Yes,” Sully said, “but I promise, I will be right back.”
Chaz murmured, still half-asleep. He lived in the Jamaican district of Toronto, which Sully found surprising and also endearing. Parts of Chaz were making more and more sense, but the name that he’d started to call him—Chaz, not Chip—was still a mystery.
Ever since the explosion, Chip had been erased from Sully’s mind. It was Chaz who needed his help, whose body had small indentations from rocks and debris, and who murmured under a half-dozen crocheted comforters on the bed. If Chip was a detective everyone thought was normal, then Chaz was the vamp with a heart of gold.
And Sully was falling for him.
“Please come back,” Chaz said. “I need you to come back.”
“I will,” Sully said, again and again. When Sully was pulled down for a kiss, it was Chaz the vampire who he kissed back, lingering long and hard.
“When I come back, I’ll bring food too. Because you weren’t kidding. Your apartment is a mess.”
Chaz’s chuckle was cut off by a snore. Sully tucked the blankets up to his neck and kissed his forehead. He kept Chaz’s keys and used them to lock up and take the car back to Artie’s. He parked a block away and ran through the front door without giving the special knock or password. Tabby jumped up from the desk, her eyes wide as she recognized Sully and the anger that flowed through him.
“What the hell happened to you? You have a cut on your head.”
Sully touched the small amount of blood on his forehead. His pants were still torn too, his knees red from being scraped. He shrugged. “Bad night. Where’s Artie?”
“Downstairs. You know. She’s working. Can’t be disturbed.”
“I need to see her. Message her and let her know I’m coming.”
Without waiting for Tabby’s response, Sully found the service elevator and pressed the button for the basement floor that was beyond the level of the washing machines. He lost cell phone signal as soon as he stepped out of the elevator, but the lights and the low classical music from Artie’s workroom made him feel that much better. The landline in Artie’s office rang, and Sully waited as he heard Artie pick up. Seconds later, she opened her office door and quirked a brow, the landline phone still pressed to her ear.
“Yes, yes, Tabby. Don’t worry. He’s here.”
Artie hung up the phone as Sully walked past. The last time he’d been in her research lab had been just after he arrived at Artie’s place. A station for drawing blood was set up in the corner and unchanged since that first day. Artie’s bookshelf was thicker than before with textbooks and interview binders. Her file folder station was dense with her documented research. Graphs and maps were pinned on her corkboard. String connected the points on the map. Almost all of the lower half of Canada glowed red, while some pieces of thread ran up toward the territories. It was a circulatory system, a heart pulsating in Canada as it documented every last line traced and traveled by sex workers who were trying to go home.
Artie sat back in front of her microscope and computer, all of which appeared to be brand-new and still shiny. She lifted her goggles over her curls and tapped her pen against the table, assessing him with a keen stare. “What’s going on, Sully? Have you changed your mind about participating in the study?”
“You already have what you need from me.”
“I could use more.”
“Artie, how many people came in the last route?”
Artie paused, considering this. “We were missing a couple. Why?”
“Shit. I knew it.” Sully sighed. He removed the card he’d taken from the crime scene and passed it over to her. She raised her brows but didn’t pick it up.
“Where did you find this?”
“On Fatima.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Fatima’s dead, Artie. So is a water shaper named Darcy. Were they… were they supposed to come in tonight? Or the last time?” When Artie didn’t answer but stared forlornly at the card, Sully shuddered. “Artie, please. Tell me what’s going on. I know it’s been a while since I took the same route, and maybe this is all a coincidence, but more workers are dying. There were others, and I think they were trying to get in the same way. By following arrows, and—”
“Shh.” Artie put down her pen and rose from her spot to put an arm around Sully. She led him to the pale blue interview couch, where she coaxed the whole story out of him in a matter of minutes. Artie had interviewed enough sex workers now to know the right questions to ask and how to make them share versus making them confess their sins. The nuances were different, and by the end of it, Sully felt better—not like he’d failed in protecting someone.
“It does sounds like our Darcy,” Artie said. “He wasn’t with a bigger load of people since he was coming in from Nunavut. We were excited to have him come because the network system in the North is mostly done by dragons who hoard their scores and it’s very complicated when the drug trade is factored in.”
“And Fatima?”
“She’s been working on meeting special cases at liaison points. Making sure they know they have options. That there are routes to follow. She left a few days ago to go and get him. I’m… I’m very saddened by this loss. I will make sure their families, and the others, are provided for.”
“And the others? You know who they are?”
“I do. They are a part of this as well.” She turned to her computer and pulled up a digital version of the map. She typed in a command and several routes came up in orange. “These are missing lines. They said they’d come, but they either turned around on their own volition or we lost contact.”
The orange was only a fraction of the red, but Sully knew it was still too much.
“Hector Juarez,” Artie said after scrolling through some of the missing routes. “I fear that he was one of ours. I read one of the recent news reports. He was a vampire helping us find and locate workers, much like Fatima. He was taking Patrick Mortimer, our Cupid.”
“Cupid?”
“Yes. After reading about the sex-trafficking industry in one of his elective university classes, he went undercover. Put ads in magazines to see if he could understand the operation better. He was trying to take it down from the inside, but then he was turned into a vamp. He contacted Hector about leaving, and we needed to move fast. Since he was still not quite a vamp, I thought maybe we could bring him here, save him, and then get the information from him. I thought….” Artie took a breath to compose herself. “I thought when I lost contact, that he’d decided to turn to a vamp. Sometimes it’s not as bad as people think it is. Hector was known for his vampire pride. I figured they would come eventually, so when they didn’t, I wrote it off. I shouldn’t have.”
“You didn’t know. I didn’t even know, and I heard about the Cupid ages ago.”
“And this was all done by the same person?”
“It seems like it. A vamp.”
“A vamp killing vamps? And the police are still interested? I’m amazed,” Artie said. “But this isn’t your Chip, right? He has nothing to do with this, other than being police?”
“Well….” Sully swallowed. “That’s another thing. His name isn’t Chip. He told me it was Chaz tonight.”
“Oh. Oh. This changes things.” Artie went over her documents again, typing the name Chaz MacDonald into it. Nothing came up.
“What do you think it means?” Sully asked.
“That MacDonald isn’t his last name either.”
“Yes, but beyond that. What do you think?”
“I’m not sure, honestly. Makes me wish I had a bigger sample of his blood so I could run it and see where he’s been on this map.”<
br />
Sully shook his head. “He wouldn’t be on here. He’s not a worker—or a pimp. I’m getting the impression from him, more and more, that his life didn’t quite turn out the way he wanted.”
“Forcible turn, no doubt. If he was turned against his will, maybe his first point of infection is in my chart. Maybe we can provide him with some closure.”
“Maybe. After what happened to Darcy, I think good news will do him well. I think… I think I’m going to stay with him. Make sure someone is there when he wakes up.”
Sully braced himself for a lecture. He knew the gleam in Artie’s eye too well—she was planning, making connections, researching the morass of creature sex trafficking, and she was getting close to figuring it all out. That was what Trina had meant a few days ago, when the last card in the deck had been The World. Artie was about to break open this case, and her sisters Didi, Heather, and Anna were all part of it. The underground scene was changing, but for the better.
As soon as Sully had first arrived at Artie’s, he’d told her his story and given his blood—then promptly forgot about it all. He didn’t care about the research because he couldn’t fathom it. After surviving his own ordeal, he didn’t want a damn thing to do with this world anymore. So he slept and worked and ate Kit Kat bars, not caring.
Now, two years later, the research had grown even bigger. Faced with the map, the depth of it, it made him queasy. But he could look at it and he could see the beauty in what Artie was doing. Sully had come to Artie’s, even though he wasn’t magic or a monster, because he’d heard enough stories about the tall Amazonian women who helped those in need. Their arrows marked safe passages to houses associated with saints, and Sully had followed them until he came to her doorstep. Though he didn’t have much to offer Artie in terms of creature information, she’d let him stay here anyway. He wasn’t the only human she helped either. Anyone who wanted to escape was welcome.
When Artie didn’t lecture Sully about staying with Chaz, he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d told her about Chaz and the crimes because he owed her, but he refused to believe Chaz was involved.
Sully was pulled out of his musings by the sound of the elevator and the pounding of footsteps on the stairs. “Is that a new group?”
“Mmm-hmm. They arrived while you were gone. Lisa is with them now, but she’s never as good with welcomes as you are.”
“Sorry,” Sully said, realizing he should have been around for this. “I don’t know if I can—”
“I know. Don’t worry.” Artie smiled, and Sully knew it was genuine. “You’ve done more work for me in one night than you can even realize.”
Sully nodded. “Someone is trying to kill us, Artie.”
“Someone is killing vamps, I think.”
“Which is still us. They’re killing vamps who want to leave the life. That still affects us. And me.”
“I know. I’m hoping it’s a coincidence, but the evidence is mounting. I’m going to investigate the orange threads and see what I find.” Artie sighed. “I’m worried, though. The arrows are supposed to mean it’s safe here. I don’t want anyone to take this away from us.”
“So let’s not stop. I can help Chaz solve this.”
“Oh, my Atlas.”
“I know that’s a big burden, but I’m not carrying the world by myself. We’re sharing the burden. All of us—you, me, Chaz, and anyone else who’s on our side. We’ve been dreaming of having access to the police for a while now. So why not trust Chaz with this?”
Artie was quiet as she considered this. “Let me check into this name. I know you trust him, but let’s be sure.”
“That makes sense. I’ll call if anything comes up.”
“Call anyway. We like you checking in. And can I ask another favor?”
“Of course.”
“If you’re going to go stay with him, may we use your room?”
Sully laughed. His chest hurt a bit from the blast, but it was a good pain. The kind that was worth suffering through. “I have way too many books, so let me grab some things before you send anyone in there. But yes, you can use it so some of the new guys can get some rest.”
“Thank you.” Artie nodded. She seemed to slip into her research so easily, almost forgetting that Sully was there. When he heard the elevator click down to their floor again, he rose.
“Artie? One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“We should have a meeting. Everyone in the house. If there is someone out there attacking us, we need to have a review of our safety protocols. What to do next, how to spot a bad john, things like that.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself. I’m going to call Tabby. She’ll start organizing that. If you’d like to help, that would be wonderful, but I already know you’ve seen a lot today. Get some rest.”
“Thank you.” Sully didn’t want to sleep now—not with the number of things he had to do—but he admired Artie for telling him that all he needed to worry about was sleeping. He was not Atlas; he had no need to carry the world on his shoulders. Maybe he would welcome a few of the new people in the house and clean his room so they could relax in it while he was gone, but that was it. It was the closest he’d ever been to having a family, and he couldn’t believe they were being threatened. We’re all supposed to be safe here. Everyone is supposed to be safe.
On the elevator up to the fourth floor, he made a mental inventory of all the things he needed to do before returning to Chaz’s place. Groceries for one, since Chaz had nothing in his fridge. Maybe something nice, a meal he could enjoy. Chaz didn’t really eat, but he’d mentioned some of his favorite foods. Sully smiled, liking that idea. He made a note to grab some blood on the way out, so Chaz didn’t have to worry about leaving his place.
In his bedroom he packed his bag full of books, his Czech dictionary, and his phone. He made the bed and tossed some of his garbage. He lingered by the doorway, thinking it wasn’t enough. He thought back to his first night, all the people around him, and the intense feeling of loneliness that still haunted him. He grabbed a piece of paper from his notebook and left a note on the bed.
Welcome! I know it’s been a long time since you felt like you could sleep through the night. But trust me, this place is magic. The best dreams I’ve ever had have been here.
PS: Don’t forget to do the laundry.
xoxox Sully.
Chapter 22
CHAZ WOKE up to the smell of birthday cake and the sound of rain. He rolled over in his bed and expected to find Nat there. He blinked, and Nat’s blond-brown hair hovered on his white pillow like a ghost. I’m dreaming. This is a dream. The smell of cake mixed with a memory of smoke from a party a long, long time ago, and Chaz let himself fall back into the dream.
Nat sat across from him at one of the plastic tables in Divine Interventions. He’d snuck in cigarettes, but since they weren’t allowed to have matches, Nat used his powers to light each one and handed them off to anyone who wanted one. After they first met, Chaz and Nat would sneak out the back doors of the institution and light up and smoke until dawn. After Divine Interventions installed cameras, Nat and Chaz smoked in their rooms, in the bathroom, and now—knowing Chaz was about to be discharged and declared normal—they were doing it in front of everyone in the main room. Because who the fuck cared? Chaz was going home.
“You should smoke up now before you have to pretend to be disgusted by it,” Nat teased. “Now that you’re normal, does that mean you can actually get cancer? Or is that only a myth?”
Chaz laughed. Creatures, for whatever reason, were cancer immune. It was the one advantage of being a monster: no chemo, no nothing to bring you down but your own peculiar set of weaknesses. Oh, and speciesism. But now that Chaz was going to be normal, he got all the privilege on paper and none of the cancer in real life. Seemed like a win-win scenario.
“Hey! Both of you! Stop that.” A nurse named Melody came over and slapped the cigarettes out of their hands. Nat’s skin must have still bee
n volatile because she screamed when they came into contact.
“Nathanael Wyatt,” she yelled, “see the administrator. This instant.”
“No. I’m here for Chaz’s birthday party. I’m not going anywhere. It’s bad for team building if you disrupt our last celebration.”
Melody narrowed her eyes. She glanced at the front foyer where two of the counselors were bringing in a large vanilla cake with red roses on it. Whenever anyone left Divine Interventions with a clean bill of health, there was a birthday party. Because now you get to start your life again. You have been reborn. There were red streamers that matched the shade of the roses on the cake, and the white frosting matched the walls. Everyone, including the people who had been put in solitary, was around and ready to watch Chaz blow out the candles and pretend he was being born anew.
Almost no one got to do this. Chaz still didn’t know or understand how his papers had been changed from those of a vamp marked with several consent cases and astronomical court debts, but now everything was clean. Sure, Atticus had wiped most of his debt away, but Chaz didn’t think Atticus had enough power to get him out of here. Divine Interventions was the end of the line for most supernaturals. This place or prison. Chaz had met several people behind these walls who had been here for the better part of their life.
He tried not to let those thoughts ruin his party. His actual party. He started to believe he really could start his life all over again, and the last thing he needed was a demon like Atticus on his back.
“Come on, everyone,” Alison, another counselor, said. “We should all gather round the cake and sing Chaz a happy birthday.”
“And Chaz should put out his cigarettes,” Melody threatened. “Or I will take Nat outside.”
“You wouldn’t. Nat is my birthday gift.”
Nat looped an arm around Chaz as they walked over to the cake. Many people had tried to separate them before, especially when they were caught sleeping in the same bed. Things changed only when Atticus became involved, and that was so Chaz could keep an eye on Nat. In the six months since they’d started to hang around, and Chaz was set to keep tabs on him, they’d grown closer and closer.
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