Dark Ascension: A Generation V Novel

by Brennan, M. L.

  When Suze first addressed the idea of a weekly visit to her sister’s place, I’d been pretty surprised. Firstly, Keiko didn’t really like me. Secondly, Suze didn’t approve of Farid—the kitsune had pretty strict rules when it came to romantic relationships with humans. Casual dating was okay, but live-in relationships were completely forbidden. When it came to starting a family, the approved methodology was the one that led to Hoshi’s genetic screening process at Redbones. Keiko was her grandmother’s chosen heir to lead the kitsune someday down the line, yet she was in the midst of breaking some of the biggest rules by not just living with Farid, but also making him aware of her pregnancy with their baby.

  For now, Suzume had been convinced, albeit very reluctantly, to stay quiet about Keiko’s master plan of keeping Farid in the dark about both his wife and daughter’s true natures indefinitely. Operating under the theory that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission, she was keeping their grandmother out of the loop, planning only to make her big reveal once she had a few years of success to show for herself. The modern kitsune woman, Keiko was trying to have it all—and a big part of that meant lying to Farid.

  Which was where these weekly visits came in. During one dinner party of the damned, I’d actually ended up on Keiko’s side in convincing Suzume that the best thing she could do, despite her very sizable reservations regarding her sister’s plan, was to help keep the situation stable. So, in Suzume’s eyes, this meant that the whole situation was my fault. Having a good sense of timing, Suzume had informed me about both my culpability and the proposed weekly visits during the first month that we were having sex, right after she’d dropped her pants. No surprise, I’d agreed to everything she proposed.

  Also—still worth it.

  The dinner visits were to give Farid the mistaken impression that he was seeing a lot of Keiko’s family. She’d met Farid’s parents and extended family, and was apparently a regular guest at Amini family events, so it was necessary for her to fool him into thinking that there was an equal exchange. Both sisters had heavily downplayed exactly how extensive and local their family group was, and by the institution of weekly double date nights with me and Suze, poor Farid probably never really got the chance to realize that he’d never met any member of Keiko’s family beyond her twin sister.

  I also knew that Suze was considering the possibility of hiring paid actors to pose as extended family at big events in the baby’s life, when it would be necessary to have a presence beyond just a sister, and using their fox tricks to smooth over any rough edges. I’d thought that it was a terrible, terrible idea, but I’d acknowledged that it at least showed that Suze was committing more to helping out her sister.

  My own sacrifice of two months of Friday evenings had, I felt, been somewhat undervalued by the Hollis women. In some ways it hadn’t been too bad—for the first month, we’d gotten into a regular habit of eating out and then going bowling. Why Suze and Keiko had decided that bowling was the key to establishing a working cover of family togetherness I’d never entirely figured out—Farid and I mostly found ourselves in the position of talking the twins out of hurling the bowling balls at each other. There had been a certain excitement to those evenings—as much as any evening in rented shoes can really be called exciting—but we’d had to scrap those outings after Keiko’s pregnancy advanced sufficiently that her center of gravity started shifting, leading to just a weekly dinner and board game evening.

  There was a brief flurry of greetings, as well as the near-ritualized feeling of Keiko’s belly to see if the baby would grace us with a kick, as we entered into the town house, already smelling mouthwateringly like pork cooking in the oven. At six and a half months along, Keiko was definitely visibly pregnant now, though not quite at the waddling stage. As I put my right hand on her belly, wishing that this weird temporary time-out of usual personal space and boundary rules would feel somewhat less like I was just standing there with my hand on the protruding stomach of a woman who, frankly, I didn’t know particularly well, Farid noticed the Band-Aid on my hand. It was only partially covering the bite that Buttons had given me that morning, but I still wondered if his hawklike vision for injuries was a result of being a surgical resident, or some intrinsic sharpening of the skill in preparation for fatherhood.

  Either way, no sooner had I said the words dog bite than I found myself dragged into the downstairs bathroom and subjected to a full antibacterial scrub.

  “Honey, can you watch the ham?” he called out the door.

  I was gritting my teeth against the distinct agony of having a hospital-grade sponge-brush covered in iodine ground enthusiastically against a raw wound. “You realize,” I gritted out as he scrubbed, “that they’re probably just standing there staring at the ham, right? I mean, neither of them really does much cooking.”

  “You’ve got such a good sense of humor, Fort,” Farid said with a grin.

  Keiko appeared in the doorway. From the expression of her face, she not only had heard my comment and correctly identified that it had not been meant as a joke, but was now pissed off because she’d been coming over to ask Farid about what exactly he meant by watching the ham. Unfortunately for me, her vengeance was close at hand. “Dog bites can get infected so easily,” she said, her voice making a good approximation of real sympathy as long as you ignored the gleam in her eyes. “I sure hope you’re being thorough, sweetie.”

  “Absolutely,” Farid said enthusiastically. “I’ll do a second scrub, just to be sure.”

  “That’s great. Absolutely fabulous.” I dug my free fist into my leg to try to distract myself from that second sponge-brush coming toward my hand. I knew that Farid was being careful about my health, and I couldn’t bear to try to brush him off—even though my odds of getting an infection were pretty low. Since the beginning of my transition, I’d healed faster than I ever had before, and for the first time in years had managed to remain unaffected by flu season.

  Suze poked her head over her sister’s shoulder. “Farid, how much of the hospital has ended up in your medicine cabinet?”

  “Just getting prepared for the baby,” he assured her. Then, looking over at what had probably started as a linen closet, and now consisted entirely of various bottles, ointments, bandage wrappings, and even a couple of bags of saline that had to have started their lives on the shelves of a supply closet in his workplace, he gave a sheepish grin. It was a grin that transformed looks that even I had to admit were damn attractive into the Middle Eastern version of Ryan Gosling. “Maybe a few things found their way home,” he admitted.

  After he’d finally judged my wound to be fully sterilized, and had been talked out of putting in just one or two stitches to help things heal faster, Farid gave me a wrap with gauze and medical tape that did turn out to be a significant improvement on my Band-Aid approach. Not that it in any way was worth the throbbing in my much-abused hand, but I was trying to focus on silver linings. Particularly since the ham had ended up overcooking while Farid was distracted.

  “The timer went off,” I muttered to Suze over dinner. “Why the hell didn’t you take the ham out?”

  “That timer could’ve been indicating many things,” she replied with a sniff.

  I just shook my head. “Hey, Farid, what game are we playing tonight?”

  Across the table, where he’d been surreptitiously trying to sneak more kale onto Keiko’s plate, Farid perked up. “I actually have one that you guys haven’t played yet.”

  “You mean we’re not going for a repeat of last week’s game of Settlers of Cataan?” I asked.

  “Those dice had it coming,” Keiko said darkly, her eyes narrowing. “It flies in the face of basic probability for the number eleven to be rolled that often.”

  Suze nodded and set her wineglass down decisively. “And nine didn’t come up at all. Keiko was completely justified.”

  Farid rubbed his partner’s back soothingly.
“Those were a lot of obscenities that ended up getting screamed at the dice,” he noted. “Maybe that was kind of a peek at how things are going to be in the delivery room, but one look was enough.” I nodded in agreement. The Cataan Incident, as I’d referred to it to Dan and Jaison, had definitely been interesting to witness, but wasn’t exactly something that I wanted to sign up for a second round of. Farid continued blithely. “So tonight’s competitive delight will be Small World.” Keiko began a query, and Farid, clearly anticipating her question, said, “Yes, you can attack each other. And no, the dice involvement is minimal.” Both sisters looked pleased.

  “Good plan,” I complimented him, and meant it. I’d played the game before—Small World was what the result would be if Risk was put in a blender with Tolkien, and then a few adjustments made to avoid infringement lawsuits.

  Suze and I cleared the plates and acted like good dinner guests by cleaning up while Farid began setting up the game on the coffee table in the living room. Keiko, feeling the pressure of her gestating offspring on her bladder, took what was easily her twentieth bathroom break of the evening. I was rinsing the dishes when Suze nudged me lightly with her shoulder and, as the sound of the running water prevented anyone from overhearing us, muttered to me, “Try not to get too attached, Fort.”

  “To dirty dishes?” I asked, deliberately misunderstanding her. “Well, I admit that it does take me back to more than a few line items on my résumé.”

  This time her nudge had significantly more force to it. I was reminded of those first-person accounts of shark attacks, where first the shark deliberately bumps into the person to see if he can fight back. “You know what I’m talking about,” she said, drying the dish that I’d handed her with extra vigor. “Nice dinners and board games aren’t going to make Keiko’s plan work. This is going to end badly, and Farid is going to be the one to pay the price.”

  I pushed the faucet, increasing the amount of water coming out, then glared at Suze. “Don’t talk to me like I haven’t seen consequences,” I warned. “I’ve lost people because of the truth.”

  “Then you should be on my side here,” she insisted. “Convince Keiko to pack her shit up and leave when Farid is at work. Denial of paternity, maybe slipping a few dollars to someone to fake a DNA test if he keeps pushing it, and Farid ends up with a broken heart and possibly some trust issues, but he gets away without physical damage.”

  The anger that had been building up within me disappeared when I looked at Suze, really looked at her for a second, and realized what was going on. She’d been against Keiko’s plan from the beginning, but that had been because she’d been defending the rules her grandmother had laid down, and because she’d been trying to protect her sister.

  “You’re starting to like him,” I said softly, and she turned her face away, a few strands of hair that had managed to work their way loose after a day of being tucked away in her braided bun flicking over her shoulder. And, because it was the truth, I said, “I like him too, Suze. I didn’t really want to, but I do.”

  “Then help me convince Keiko.” Suze’s expression was deliberately blank, covering up what she was thinking.

  I finished rinsing the last of the plates and handed it to her. As I wiped my hands with the spare dish towel, I turned around and leaned against the countertop. The small eat-in kitchen had been designed to feel less restrictive by cutting an overlarge entryway arch instead of a standard doorway, and through that opening I had a great view of the rest of the claustrophobically tight first floor. Farid had the game already set up, a small, pleased smile on his face as he made sure that the brightly colored board was perfectly arranged so that everyone had the best possible view of the action, and there were little piles of point tokens at each separate place. Keiko had emerged from the bathroom, and was sitting on the couch across from where he knelt on the floor, having taken the most awkward playing position without making any kind of fuss about it. She was smiling at him, listening as he spoke and pointed to various portions of the board, probably explaining the rules.

  “She loves him,” I said softly to Suze. “You know that. And she loves him so much that she’s going to risk everything to try to be with him.”

  “You’re usually a lot more conservative than I am about risk,” she noted, making a show of moistening a sponge and running it lightly over the counter. “At least, about nonpersonal risk.”

  “But isn’t what she’s trying for worth it? She wants to be with him, to give her daughter a father. And if we help her, if she can make it work—”

  “Fort.” Her simple, calm tone cut me off. Once she was sure that she had my full attention, she placed her hands on my shoulders and pushed herself up onto her toes, looking me as full in the eyes as she could. After a second she leaned in and brushed a kiss against my mouth, then pulled back, her expression unreadable. When she spoke, her voice sounded regretful—a rare emotion from her. “When this ends the way I know that it will, I’ll be sorry. But you’ll be hurt. And I’m sorry about that.” She relaxed back to the flats of her feet, then reached over and turned the faucet off decisively. With a quick roll of her shoulders she pivoted around and sauntered into the living room, her voice and demeanor changing smoothly, perfectly, to fit the persona she was presenting for Farid’s benefit: a friendly, bubbly sister of his girlfriend, with no dangerous undercurrents or hidden knowledge. “Now, how do I win this game?” she demanded.

  * * *

  The temperature was plummeting when we said our good-byes and left the town house. A light coating of frost was already covering the windows of the Scirocco, and I paused for a moment to look up at the sky. It was cold enough to make the exposed skin of my face hurt, but the sky was still clear of snow. I pulled my keys out of my pocket, the fabric of my gloves making my movements clumsy as I sorted to find the one I needed; then I suddenly paused. There was something in the silent night air, something that I wasn’t hearing or feeling . . . something that I was smelling.

  “Hey, Fort, any plans on opening the car door before I die of hypothermia?” Suze groused, but I waved a hand at her to be quiet. I closed my eyes and inhaled as deeply as I could through my nose, trying to figure out what that was. It was like a wisp of perfume in the air, tugging at me, almost daring me to identify it.

  “Fort, what’s going on?” Suze’s voice was softer, and I heard the rustle of her coat and the crunch of old snow beneath her boots as she came around to stand beside me. My eyes were still closed as I tried to tease out that smell, but I felt her press her elbow against my side—not in a jabbing or demanding way, but in a way that reminded me that she was there, and grounded me.

  Acting on instinct, I opened my mouth and inhaled, as if I could taste the smell. And I could—it was there, again, flirting against my senses, playing over my tongue. I could hear Suze begin sniffing, applying her own kitsune senses to the task—though her nose on two legs was no comparison to what it was on four legs, she still had a better sense of smell than any human, or even any vampire. There was only one thing that I’d ever been able to smell better than her, and the knowledge pinged into my brain and finally identified that drifting, perfumed aroma.

  “Blood,” I said, opening my eyes and looking at Suze. “I smell human blood.”

  She gave a small shake of her own head. “It’s too faint for me.” She nudged me lightly. “Follow it. Let’s see if you can track.”

  I gave a small, startled snort. “I can’t track, Suze. I’m—”

  “Let’s find out,” she repeated. Her voice was low and rich. “Just close your eyes and focus on the smell. I’ll make sure that you don’t bump into anything.” Her arm wrapped around my waist, a warm, comforting band. “See what you can find,” she urged, and I looked at her again for a long second, then closed my eyes.

  The scent was still there, waiting for me. Trusting in Suze to keep me from falling on my ass, I began walking. It took me a few
false starts to figure out how to follow it—I had to keep sampling the air over my tongue and using that to orient myself. I was lucky that it was a still night, with almost no breeze. We were away from student areas, and it was late enough that even on a Friday night, most of the residents of these brick town houses and apartments were tucked away in their beds. Once or twice Suze’s arm tightened around my waist, forcing me to stop and wait while a car passed by, and other times she used her body to nudge me around obstacles, but she stayed quiet and let me focus on the smell.

  The blood smell was like warm cinnamon rolls from a bakery, or a steak searing away in a bed of chopped onions. It was a pot of warm stew bubbling on the stove on a cold day, or a fresh-cut slice of watermelon in the summer. The farther I walked, the more it urged me forward, every instinct in my body switching on and adding to my desire to follow it.

  We’d walked a block before Suze tugged me to a stop and spoke for the first time. “There it is,” she said quietly. I opened my eyes to see her pointing down at the sidewalk we were standing on. Slowly I crouched down, my eyes picking out what she was gesturing to far better than they should’ve in the darkness, even with the improvements my vision had undergone since my transition began.

  It was a little splash of blood, smaller than a dime, fresh and unnaturally bright against the cement. It drew my eyes and the smell, more delightful than a pan of frying bacon, filled my head. I had to shove my hands into my pockets hard to resist the urge to reach down and touch that little spot with my finger, because I knew that touching it would never be enough. I’d want to put it against my tongue, rub it against my gums and the inside of my cheeks. I’d want to roll in it. I pressed my hands into my pockets harder, and felt a seam rip.