Brick didn’t intend to get that close.
Leaning down, he plucked a throw pillow off the floor instead, and threw it at the two of them, hitting Dorian in the head.
“GET UP!” He raised his voice, putting an element of thrall into it, trembling it with his own blood. He banged the cane on the floor. “DORIAN! THIS IS YOUR FUCKING KING. I REQUIRE YOUR PRESENCE. AND YOUR FULL ATTENTION. NOW.”
That time, Brick saw recognition flicker across his friend’s face.
After what felt like a long silence, one eye opened on that pale face.
When it did, Brick could only stare.
If he’d been human, he might have gasped.
The iris that met his was clear, the color of cracked crystal.
Brick’s jaw loosened as he continued to stare, doubting his own eyes. He continued to stare even as Dorian’s iris filled slowly with scarlet, reverting to the shade he knew.
Even so, that bare glimpse of crystal in Dorian’s eyes genuinely threw him.
“Did you need me, my king?” his second-in-command said, his voice as toneless and unreadable as always. “I apologize I have not checked in of late.”
Brick smirked at that, in spite of himself.
Even so, that pretense of nonchalance gave him pause.
It might have made him laugh under different circumstances, and with a different fuck-toy in Dorian’s bed. As it was, the utter flatness of that gaze, the indifference in his expression and that deep voice, came close to annoying him. More than any of that, it made him wary, if only for the utter transparency of the lie.
“Are you going to attack me, brother?” he said, quirking his eyebrow as Dorian slowly raised his head. “Am I safe to approach this little sex nest you’ve built here for our newborn? Or am I liable to get a limb torn off my body for my trouble? One that will no doubt be excruciatingly painful to grow back?”
Dorian glanced down at Naoko, who still hadn’t opened his eyes.
The black-haired newborn remained ensconced in Dorian’s arms and body, his fingers gripping the older vampire’s forearm, his teeth exposed in whatever dream where he remained. Dorian made no move to release him, but instead drew him tighter against him, as if to encase him more deeply in that protective bubble.
“Are you able to speak to me?” Brick said, his voice a touch sharper.
“Of course, my king.”
“You will do it here, I take it?” Brick said. “Naked? With my own blood shamelessly in your arms?”
Dorian tensed.
That time, Brick saw it.
“Careful, Dorian,” he breathed, softer.
His second immediately relaxed, his expression and muscles changing in swift increments as Brick watched. Brick felt his own fangs retract somewhat at the apology he saw rising in the other’s eyes.
“I know you are smitten, my love,” Brick said, his voice warmer that time, and significantly more sympathetic. “Looking at the two of you, I am quite jealous… so I do understand your feelings. But do not forget your place.”
“Never, my king.”
He said it so vehemently, with such force behind his words, Brick relaxed for real.
Even so, he found himself assessing the other vampire critically.
“Will he be in shape to travel?” he said. “Or do you need more time with him?”
Dorian’s mouth pursed, but that time in thought. He glanced down at Naoko, studying his face, then up at Brick.
“When were you thinking of taking this trip, my king?”
“In three days. Less, if he can manage it.” Frowning as he thought about what he’d just watched on the news, he gazed unseeingly at the wall above the bed. “I’m afraid we’re out of time, Dorian. Charles is clearly moving. Half of the Southern United States now burns with fires from his human mobs. They are closing off the borders. It is time to approach the seers in San Francisco. It is time to bring our proposal to Quentin, before it is too late.”
Dorian nodded to his words.
Still, as he looked down at Naoko, Brick saw conflict there, doubt.
More than that, he saw what might have been actual worry.
Brick watched him, frowning.
“What?” he said finally. “What is the matter? Is he ready? Or not?”
Dorian looked down at Naoko, at his closed eyes, then up at Brick.
“He is ready,” he said, sounding sure of his words. “Ready enough for what you need, I believe. But I confess,” the vampire added after a pause, his voice apologetic. “After witnessing his mind, I fear we may have miscalculated.”
Brick frowned, staring at him.
“What do you mean?” he said. “Miscalculated? In what way?”
Dorian continued to look at Naoko, watching the handsome face twitch and tighten, his own long jaw and mouth unmoving.
“With Naoko?” Brick pressed. “Or with Quentin Black?”
Dorian looked up.
His scarlet irises shone faintly.
“No,” he said. “Well… perhaps. Perhaps with Naoko himself. He understands more now, but we will need to keep an eye on him while we are there. He has more feelings towards Black than I had previously realized. He may have trouble controlling them once we are there. Once he is around seers in general.”
Brick frowned.
This was not news, not to him.
“I assumed,” he said. “He is still a newborn.”
He stared at his friend, puzzled when the other didn’t go on.
“Is that who you meant we miscalculated with?” Brick pressed, when Dorian still didn’t speak. “Are your misgivings around Naoko himself, my brother?”
Slowly, Dorian shook his head.
Looking up from newborn’s face, as if pulling himself out of whatever he felt there, Dorian frowned, his features uncharacteristically expressive.
“No,” he said grimly. “Not him either.”
He looked up, meeting Brick’s gaze.
“No,” he said seriously. “I meant Miri. I am worried we may have miscalculated in relation to Quentin Black’s wife… Miriam Fox.”
15
Bourbon And Biryani
“HEY… MIRI. CAN I borrow you a minute?”
I turned, looking towards the conference room door.
I stood around a flat-screen television in the main conference room of Black’s offices, surrounded by about fifteen of the young natives from New Mexico.
In just the last few minutes, a few seers and a number of Black’s ex-military types had joined us as well––most of them carrying bags of food, since it was around noon. Now Kiko leaned on the edge of the table next to me, not far from Mika, Jem, Jax, Yarli, Manny, Easton, and Frank, who’d all pulled chairs over from around the high-tech conference table.
The younger natives, including Magic and a number of her friends, Dog and Devin among them, sat on the floor. I was the only one who stood entirely, maybe because I kept telling myself I would leave soon, that I would stop watching the news.
Somehow, I never did stop watching, though.
On the monitor, twenty-four-hour cable news reported on the riots in Texas.
Copycat riots had started in Florida, Louisiana, Alabama, Virginia, Chicago, and Philadelphia now, too.
Tearing my eyes off the image of two vampires tearing out the throats of soldiers firing assault rifles, wearing full riot gear, I looked towards the familiar voice.
Black stood in the door of the conference room.
He wore his usual work uniform of black pants, a black T-shirt and boots, and his military watch. I couldn’t help noticing he was wearing his wedding ring too, the one from the set he’d commissioned from that artist in New York.
If he’d seen me glance at his ring finger, his face didn’t show it. His expression was grim, and he looked distracted. Taking in what little I could feel off his light, I looked from him back to the monitor, grimacing at the video now playing in the inset behind the reporter.
It showed a tall, red-hai
red male vampire with its fangs sunk into the throat of a woman who looked maybe twenty years old––so probably from one of the colleges. According to the news reports, several universities in the South, notably in Texas and Louisiana, had been targeted by groups of vampires. There’d been a lot of murmured conversations in our group about what was really going on. So far, I agreed the most with Kiko and Yarli’s assessment, that Charles had his people staging these riots for his own reasons.
Yarli figured Charles might have even targeted the universities specifically. According to her, he’d want control over the institutions of higher learning, perhaps as an excuse to put them directly under the umbrella of the federal government, and thus his own people.
Charles also clearly wanted more control over the borders.
Yarli explained to us how they’d had racial checkpoints at all borders on Old Earth, even between some states in her version of the U.S.A.
She suspected Charles was aiming to create something like that here too, only for vampires, not for seers. He’d want the universities, she explained, so he could start funneling resources into research and tech he needed to control the vampire population––and likely the human population as well.
The longer she talked, the more I found myself seeing the outlines of the world my uncle was designing, and the more I realized we wouldn’t be able to stand on the sidelines for much longer. It also made me wonder what the hell the vampires would do once Charles started making his power grabs for real.
There was no doubt the riots were also meant to scare the hell out of the humans in regard to vampires, as well.
I stared at the college student’s face as the red-haired vampire consumed her, and it hit me that her parents could be watching this. Eyes glazed, head thrown back, the young woman looked on the verge of death. The vampire’s face was calm. A look of utter contentment lived in his expression as he drained her, one hand wrapped around the front of her body, squeezing her breast through the sweatshirt she wore.
She wasn’t a woman, whatever her age.
She was a girl.
Watching the life drain out of her, I couldn’t help but think of Zoe, my sister. She was about the same age when a vampire killed her.
My eyes returned to Black, that grimace still twisting my expression.
“Sure,” I said. “No problem.”
Realizing how long I’d been standing in there, watching the news with the young Natives, all of whom had a lot better excuse for being in there than I did, I felt a flicker of guilt. I wondered if I was growing addicted to watching the horror show my uncle was unfolding on the world stage, starting with my own country.
More to the point, I was neglecting my work.
Black asked me to start going through the files on the seer refugees days ago, a job I’d been putting off since we got back from Europe, mostly because I still spent most of my time combing news and police reports, looking for signs of Nick.
Kiko gave me a smile and a quirked eyebrow as I walked around her and her Tupperware container of wakame, rice and grilled salmon, which she was mostly eating with her fingers, probably so she didn’t have to bother dragging a chair around from another part of the table.
Kiko rarely just sat and chilled, though.
She always seemed to be on the move, or soon to be on the move, whenever I saw her.
Black motioned for me with his head when I glanced at him again, and I sped my steps, walking through the door in front of him when he held it open.
He brought me back to his office.
Once again, he held the door for me to walk in front of him, nudging me with his light towards the conference table at one end of the long room. I glanced around at the smoky, etched-glass front wall, and realized I didn’t come in here all that much.
“You eaten yet?” he said, as he closed the door.
I looked at him, blinked.
Then I thought about his question.
“I had a yogurt?” I said, doubtful.
“At six in the morning,” he grunted. “So that would be a no.” He motioned me a second time towards the chairs around the conference table at the corner of his office. “Sit. I’m ordering us food. I need to talk to you.”
Faintly wary now, I followed the motion of his hand, taking a seat in the corner out of habit, where the window switched from smoky to clear to provide a view out over the city. I just sat there, looking out, listening with only part of my mind as he spoke on the phone with one of his people about bringing us food.
I didn’t really pay attention to what he ordered; I was too busy looking at the skyline, then at his face, and his hand with the wedding ring.
I hadn’t looked at either of our rings since I threw mine at him in New York.
I’d asked him for mine back.
I wondered now why he hadn’t given it to me.
Both rings of the rings he’d had made were gorgeous.
I found myself a little blown away by how beautiful his looked now. I could see the curved, organic pattern of the etched orca in the black gold even from where I sat, along with the three stars, which he’d told me were colored green and gold diamonds, meant to approximate the hazel of my eyes.
The design was similar to the Native American pendant I wore around my neck, but more fluid somehow, more evocative of Art Nouveau. My grandfather made the pendant I wore, and it symbolized human and seer––my parents’ marriage, but also me and my sister, Zoe.
The ring version evoked the original, while still having a style of its own.
I wanted mine back.
Chuckling, Black hung up the phone, glancing at me.
“You do, do you?” he said, smiling.
“Yes,” I said, folding my arms. “Are you holding onto it for any particular reason?”
“Why would I be doing that?” he said innocently.
“Ransom?” I said. “To screw with me? Maybe you need the extra cash for another helicopter? Or a new motorcycle?”
He smiled, clicking at me softly, even as he pretended to be thinking about my words.
“Well, it’s a good question, really,” he said, leaning back on his desk.
I frowned. “What’s a good question?”
“What’s in it for me?” He quirked his eyebrow as he folded his arms, adjusting his butt against the edge of his desk. “After all, you gave it back to me once. Threw it at me, really. I figure I should get something out of the deal, if I’m going to return it.”
“How about sex… with me ever again?”
He grunted. “You’d last a week. Less, probably.”
I frowned.
He wasn’t really wrong.
Was he serious? Did he actually want something for the ring?
“What did you have in mind with your dastardly wedding ring blackmail scheme?” I said. “An endless supply of back rubs? More three a.m. marathons to get waffles?” I snorted at the smile growing on his face. “Or are you just hoping to get me to finally finish those psych evals and skill assessments on the new seers?”
“No,” he said, clicking. He spread his legs, still leaning on the desk. “I plan to get all of those things regardless.”
I snorted a real laugh that time. “Do you?”
He smiled, not answering.
Damn that smile.
“What do you want?” I said, faintly wary now.
Still smiling, he took his weight off the desk. He was already walking to the door when someone knocked. I followed him with my eyes. I hadn’t even felt the person on the other side of the glass, but then, Black had that kind of gravity with me a lot of the time.
I had a tendency to miss things when I focused on him.
Now I knew it was one of the security guys from downstairs.
He didn’t come in.
Rather, Black took two bags from him without leaving the doorway, then the guy who brought them shut the door and Black brought the bags over to the small conference table.
“How did you possibly get fo
od that quickly?” I said.
“There’s a whole bunch downstairs,” Black said. “I had them pull us together some takeaway from the buffet on the third floor. We’re feeding a veritable village, remember? Most of those seers aren’t making any money yet.”
Quirking an eyebrow at me meaningfully, he added,
“I can’t employ them myself yet. I don’t know what salary to pay them, doc, or where to put them, when I have absolutely no idea of what they can do––”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, exhaling. “Skill assessments. Got it. Message received.”
I flushed a little, though.
He was right.
I hadn’t considered the fact that I was costing him money.
“I’ll start right after this,” I told him. “Promise. Cross my heart.”
He chuckled, bending over one of the bags and unfurling the top. As soon as he opened it, a rush of warm garlic and spices filled his office. He started pulling out clear containers with lids, covering the surface of the table between me and him.
They were all different colors, but all of them looked vaguely soupy.
“Indian,” he said. “I hope that’s okay. I thought it would be easier to share.”
My creased brow smoothed. “That’s perfect.”
He pulled out a basket covered in a cloth towel, placing it in the center of all the colorful containers. It turned out to be full of buttered naan. Another basket had garlic naan, which might have been what I smelled when he first opened the bag. Out of the second bag his security guy had handed him, Black retrieved two water bottles, two beers, and some lemon ginger tea.
He cracked open one of the beers, and plopped down on the seat across from me.
“So?” I said, opening the first container, a dark orange one that happened to be nearest to me. “Are you going to tell me what you want for the ring? Or not?”
“How about a wedding ceremony, doc?” he said mildly.
I froze, glancing up from where I’d been prying the lid off another container, one filled with what looked and smelled like some kind of vegetable korma.
TO BLACK WITH LOVE: Quentin Black Mystery #10 Page 20