Black On Black (Quentin Black Mystery #3)

by JC Andrijeski

  Grimacing, I shook my head. “I’m not pregnant, Nick.”

  I refrained from telling him it would have to be the immaculate conception if I was, at least for Black to be the father.

  Leaning deeper into the leather booth seat, I folded my arms.

  “I’m telling you, there’s something different about Black.” Hesitating, I watched Nick frown. “...And about me. The thing that’s different about him is also different about me, Nick. That’s what I need to talk to you and Angel about. Me and Black...” I took a breath. “We’re not like normal people.”

  Nick’s eyes narrowed.

  I saw a glimmer of the cop flicker in his expression, assessing me.

  Before he could say anything, someone else spoke.

  “Well, anyone could have told you that, doc,” Angel drawled, bending down over the table with two shots, a margarita on the rocks and a Cosmo balanced somehow in her two hands and between various fingers. I knew she’d been a bartender once, but her skill at carrying drinks without spilling a drop and without a tray still blew my mind.

  She set all four drinks down carefully in the middle of the table.

  Only then did I notice she also had two unopened bottles of beer under her arms.

  I laughed when she opened them one by one, using the edge of the table and a sharp, precise hit with the side of her hand. She set one of the newly opened bottles in front of Nick, then another closer to her side of the table.

  “Did they offer you a job?” I said, smiling.

  She grinned back. “I got asked on a date. A few of them, actually. I guess hot black women juggling large quantities of alcohol is now a thing.”

  “When wasn’t it?” Nick grunted, saluting her with his new beer.

  “Well, I politely declined,” Angel said, sliding into the seat next to me. “And not only because Anthony would whup my ass for even considering it. Some of the boys in here are just... well, they’re boys, darling,” she said to me, lifting an eyebrow archly.

  I laughed, clinking my margarita glass against her beer bottle in agreement.

  When I glanced at Nick, his expression had hardened.

  Angel took a long drink of her beer, her eyes now on Nick. “So what’s with this big confession of yours, doc? About you and Black being freaks?”

  Angel smiled wider, that drawl still audible in her voice. I’d often noticed that the remnants of a Louisiana accent she’d gotten from her mother grew more prominent when she drank.

  Still cocking her eyebrow, she glanced at Nick then back at me.

  I knew she felt the tension there.

  I also knew she was trying to disperse it.

  “...Not like that’s any kind of news to either of us, is it, Naoko, dear?” Winking at Nick, she smirked at me. “You want to surprise us, you need to explain how you and Black are normal, doc... just like any other couple going for a nice Sunday stroll in the park.” She burst out in laugh as she seemed to be considering it. “Does Black stroll, doc? I’m finding that hard to picture for some reason. Unless he’s carrying an automatic rifle while he’s doing it...”

  When I glanced at Nick, he wasn’t smiling.

  Exhaling with more trepidation that time, I took a long drink of the margarita Angel just brought me. Long enough that both of them were staring at me by the time I’d finished. Long enough that my new drink was half-gone and I verged on brain-freeze.

  Without pausing, I took my shot of tequila too, throwing back my head without bothering with either the salt or a lemon wedge from Nick’s half-filled bowl.

  When I set the empty glass back on the table, both of them were looking at me, and at each other. Usually I wasn’t the big drinker of us three.

  Usually I was the lightweight.

  “Okay,” I said, wiping my mouth. “Forget Black for a minute. I’m going to tell you both something about myself, okay? Something I’ve never told either of you. Something I’ve never really told anyone. Not outside of my family...”

  My voice trailed.

  I swallowed, even as a dense panic started in my chest. That panic felt nearly as old as I was, colored by every childhood fear my father ever hammered into me.

  I hoped to God I wasn’t making a huge, horrible mistake.

  I hoped to God Black would forgive me for this.

  I looked at Nick and at Angel, and wished I had another shot.

  Of alcohol, that is.

  I considered taking Nick’s, then didn’t.

  “I’m not even sure my mom knew, to be truthful...” I trailed again, glancing between the two of them. “I mean, she must have known, right? Maybe she was just in denial. Or maybe Dad and her had some agreement not to acknowledge it. I don’t remember my dad ever telling me to keep it from her, not directly, but the message was there. My sister and I both knew not to talk about it in front of her...”

  Both Nick and Angel were watching me seriously now, their expressions interested, maybe with just the slightest thread of misgiving. Both were listening attentively though; neither looked ready to interrupt me any time soon.

  I swallowed again.

  “...My sister knew,” I added. “It’s part of why we were so close. She was like me. Zoe and I... we were the same.”

  Impulsively, I reached over the table for Nick’s shot.

  Plucking it off the scratched hardwood in front of him, I tilted my head back and downed it in one go, gasping a little as it burned my throat. When I set the empty shot glass back on the table and looked up, both of them were gaping at me.

  I did my best to ignore it, focusing on where my fingers toyed with the empty shot glass.

  “My dad knew,” I said with a shrug, still looking at the glass. “...Obviously. He had to know. And I didn’t realize it back then, but he talked about it without really talking about it the whole time we were growing up. Black thinks Dad actually taught me to hide it, although I never thought of it that way at the time. He was really strict with us though...” I glanced up. “With me, especially. He was kind of crazy with me when I was young. Really adamant about how I behaved, about me not being too visible.”

  Swallowing, I shrugged, still thinking aloud.

  “He wanted me to be grounded. That’s what he called it... ‘grounded.’ But what he meant was he wanted me to control myself. He was kind of nuts about it, honestly. He had fits whenever I lost my temper. He was way more intense with me than he ever was with Zoe...” I let my voice trail, then shrugged again. “I honestly don’t know why. Even now. She and I were the same. I always thought we were, anyway... we seemed the same.”

  I wiped my mouth again, then my forehead, feeling suddenly too hot. I knew it might be from the shots, but it didn’t feel like it.

  “I know how this will probably sound...” Trailing, I realized that wasn’t true. “Hell. I have no fucking idea how this will sound to either one of you. I really don’t. But probably nuts.”

  I looked up, then between them, biting my lip.

  They both just waited, their mouths pursed in faint frowns.

  Then I just said it.

  “I’m psychic.” I swallowed, my fingers clenching on the glass. “I can read people’s minds. Like for real.”

  THERE WAS A silence after I said it.

  Then Angel laughed. It was a nervous laugh.

  “What?” she said. “All that build-up was for that?”

  I felt my jaw harden.

  Reaching for my margarita glass, I took another long swallow and grimaced at the tartness, setting it down on the table.

  I didn’t answer her.

  I glanced at Nick instead.

  His expression held more of what I’d expected to face from both of them.

  At the same time, it held more than that, too. I’d expected disbelief. I’d expected him to be looking at me with wary eyes, trying to decide if I’d gone nuts. And yes, watching him now, I could see glimmers of both things.

  But I also saw something else.

  I saw him thinking, h
is cop brain going over things, assessing things he remembered. I saw him connecting dots somewhere in the back part of his mind.

  When I realized what it meant, I stared at him.

  “You believe me?” I said.

  I think my voice held more disbelief than Angel’s had.

  Nick didn’t answer me, not outright.

  Instead, he jerked a chin towards me, his cop voice back in full force.

  “How psychic, doc?” he said. “You said ‘for real.’ What does that mean?”

  Angel was staring between the two of us, that disbelief now etched in her face. Even so, I could see her trying to get on board, to be open-minded about this, probably following Nick’s lead. “Are you saying your dreams come true, doc? Or like––”

  “No.” I cut her off before she could repeat all the tired New Age crap to me. I gave her a level stare. “I’m saying I can actually read minds. I’m saying I can hear what people are actually thinking. Right now... whenever I want, really. I don’t get vague feelings. I don’t speak to angels, or channel spirit guides, or play with tarot cards. I hear actual words... as if the person is saying those things to me aloud. Sometimes I see pictures, but they’re specific. I see them because that’s how a lot of people think. I mean I can actually read minds.” Swallowing, I felt that pit in my stomach deepen, right before I looked at Nick. “...So can Black.”

  Angel and Nick exchanged a look.

  They’d known each other since they were kids, so those exchanged looks probably held a lot more nuance than I could see with my eyes alone.

  Even so, I got the idea.

  “You read people’s minds?” Angel said, looking back at me. “Like... all the time?”

  Feeling my face heat, I exhaled.

  “I can control it,” I said, still watching them both warily, almost defensively. “I don’t do it to my friends. I mean...” I amended, making a small gesture with my fingers holding the shot glass. “...I do hear things, but just the louder things, and only on accident. I don’t go poking around in my friend’s heads. I don’t do it to boyfriends, either. That’s how I missed the thing with Ian...”

  I glanced at Nick as I said the last.

  Pausing on his expression, I found myself growing nervous as I studied his face, still not sure how he was reacting to this. That panic rose in my chest, making it hard to breathe when I couldn’t decide if he was thinking about calling the men in white suits or if he was actually considering this.

  I added, “...I really don’t like invading people’s privacy. I have it blocked... or shut off maybe is more accurate... most of the time. I use it on the job.” I glanced at Nick again, looking for comprehension. “...Profiling. It’s how I knew a lot of the things I knew. I had to come up with an evidence trail after the fact at times. I had to make it seem like I found out the information in some other, more legitimate way...”

  Trailing, I went back to studying Nick’s face.

  When his expression didn’t move, I forced my eyes back to the shot glass I balanced between my fingers.

  “...It’s how I knew about that serial rapist in the Mission,” I said. “And the guy who killed his family in the Sunset last summer. Most of the profile jobs you’ve had me do, I used that, to lesser and greater degrees.” I continued to watch Nick, still unable to read the expression in his dark eyes. “It’s why the interview with Black was so weird. Remember how you said there were those odd silences? That’s why. That’s what those were.”

  “You talking to him?” Nick said, blunt.

  The words came out hard, like an accusation.

  When I didn’t answer, his voice grew colder.

  “Are you telling me you were talking to that fucker in your mind?” he said. “That very first day you met? You and he were talking like this?”

  Hesitating only the barest breath, I nodded. “Yes.”

  “So what am I thinking now, doc?” Angel said, looking from Nick to me. Her mouth was pursed. I didn’t need to read her to know she was skeptical. More skeptical than Nick, which surprised me. “...What am I thinking about right now? Can you tell me that?”

  I sighed a little internally.

  Still, I’d expected this.

  I knew my friends. I knew they’d want proof.

  Concentrating briefly, I began to speak without pulling out of that space.

  “You’re thinking Black’s maybe done something to gaslight me,” I said, frowning a little. “Maybe even rope me into some fantasy world of his. You’re thinking this all has something to do with what happened in Bangkok... that I’m suffering from PTSD, and maybe grasping onto this psychic thing to give it all meaning...”

  I paused, still reading her.

  “...And just now you were thinking that it reminded you of your cousin Talia in Louisiana who got all into Voodoo. The one with the ex-con boyfriend who was mainlining heroin and had her doing blood sacrifices. Something to do with clay pots... and eww...” I wrinkled my nose, opening my eyes. “...That goat thing was nasty.”

  When I glanced up, Angel had noticeably paled.

  I held up a hand, feeling her alarm.

  “You asked me,” I said, my voice warning. “I don’t do that normally. I promise you, I don’t normally look at your minds at all.” I looked at Nick. “Either of you.”

  “What am I thinking, doc?” Nick said.

  He said it casually, but I heard the edge there.

  I met his gaze somewhat more reluctantly.

  Even so, I did what he asked.

  ... explains fucking everything actually... that weird shit in the interrogation room, how she knew where to find me in Afghanistan... those poor fucking kids, which I never understood how she knew about. That exact basement in that exact house in those abandoned tenants... she led us right there. I never bought that b.s. about him telling her where he had them... about the interrogation room recordings being “missing” for just that part of their interview. I knew there was something... there was always something with her...

  “You’re thinking it explains a lot,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Afghanistan. The interview with me and Black. How I found the kids in South San Francisco. The warehouse murders. That lie I told about the recordings being missing... and just me in general.” I felt my face warm a little as I shrugged. “How I seemed to know things that I shouldn’t know. That it couldn’t all be ‘intelligence’ or ‘insight,’ like I pretended... and you’re right. It wasn’t.”

  He stared at me.

  His dark eyes reflected shock, in spite of everything he’d been thinking.

  ... God, has she been reading my mind all this time? Did she know I was in love with her? And here I thought I was doing some big confession...

  “No, Nick... no...”

  He flinched violently and I flushed.

  Holding his gaze, I shook my head, my voice adamant.

  “I swear to you, I didn’t know... I had no idea.” Feeling that fear in my belly sharpen as I saw the alarm grow on his face, I looked between the two of them. “I told you... I can control it. And I don’t use this to invade other people’s privacy. Not for any reason. Most of the time, it’s more or less shut off. I only use it when I really need it.”

  Seeing both of them staring at me in open disbelief, I swallowed, shaking my head.

  “...I don’t want either of you to worry about that. I haven’t been invading your minds like that. I never have. Not even when you arrested me last year.”

  I looked directly at Angel, who was gaping at me now, wide-eyed.

  “You’re my friends,” I added, my throat closing as my own words sank in. I hoped to God I wasn’t risking that friendship, even now. “...I love you both. I would never do that. I promise you. You guys were always strictly off-limits. All my friends are. I used it on the job. And when I thought I might be in danger. I used it when it seemed ethical to me...”

  Trailing, I looked back at Nick.

  He averted his gaze, but I saw his jaw tighten.
/>
  I saw a denser understanding reach his eyes as he stared at the table.

  “Black’s like you?” Nick said, still staring at the table.

  Reluctantly, I nodded. “Yes.”

  “How much like you, doc?”

  “More so,” I admitted. “A lot more so.”

  “So why are you telling us this now?” Nick said, raising his eyes back to mine. “I’m assuming this isn’t some random confession. There’s more to this, right?” His jaw hardened. “Something to do with Black?”

  Sighing, I nodded, combing my fingers through my hair and feeling that pain in my chest worsen. “I’m telling you this now because Black’s in danger.”

  Hearing Nick’s snort, I glanced up. He scowled at me.

  Sighing, I leaned back in the booth. “I’m telling you, you’ve got him wrong, Nick. About a lot of things, but especially about why he left. He didn’t leave because he wanted to leave.” Pausing, I leaned my forehead into my palm, a little dizzy from the drinks. “There are people who know what he is. People who want to use that part of him... to weaponize it, I guess you could say.” I met Nick’s gaze. “Bad people, Nick.”

  “Bad people?” he said, frowning.

  I ignored the faint thread of sarcasm I heard, nodding.

  “The worst kind. Traffickers. Crime lords. Murderers. Sadists. But it’s more than that... a lot more. It’s going to take awhile to explain everything...” I glanced at Angel, saw from her eyes that she was listening again, that she’d gotten past some of her initial shock. “...It has to do with what happened to me in Bangkok.”

  I exhaled another deep breath, then took a sip of the margarita.

  The next time I started to talk, they didn’t interrupt me.

  Neither of them spoke at all actually, not for a very long time.

  Nine

  IN MOTION

  MIRI... HIS PRESENCE washes over me. It brings a dense flush of heat I feel over every inch of my skin. His pain echoes. It grows louder, softer... an intensity of longing I can’t think through, can barely stand. Some of that feels like it’s about me.