by Kayleigh Sky
“You’re doing a pretty good job to be honest. You played Solomon just right.”
Otto took a bite of his sandwich and Jessa ate some of his soup. As he chewed, Otto shifted on his chair and pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He set it on the table and pushed it closer to Jessa. One of his fingers sported a ragged hangnail, and the skin underneath was pinker than the sun-browned top.
Jessa’s mouth watered, the desire for blood and salt over-riding the flavor of his soup.
Stop.
But stopping his hunger was beyond him. He shoveled a forkful of lasagna into his mouth and pulled over the flyer.
His fingers trembled. He wanted Otto’s finger. He wanted it in his mouth, teasing him with blood. He wanted Otto’s hand between his legs, stroking him.
Stop.
What about Wen?
They weren’t bonded yet. He didn’t owe Wen his chastity, and he didn’t begrudge Wen Anya.
He took another bite of lasagna and unfolded the flyer only to have his stomach plummet and his lasagna stick in his chest. He swallowed to get it down and drank some of his tea.
“Are you okay?”
Jessa nodded. “Yeah. The photos are…” Real. “I don’t remember Celestine, but the photos give me a strange feeling.” Like I can’t breathe. And it’s dark. So dark. “Rune likes this kind of thing. Not me.”
“You don’t have to go.”
Like hell. Jackson Stork wouldn’t pass up a possible lead. “When?”
An amused look crossed Otto’s face. “This weekend.”
“As us?”
The amusement broadened into a smile. “Us works.”
Us.
Jessa pushed back his hair and let his lashes flutter against his cheeks for a moment. They all did that in romances. Batting their lashes. Sharing those long, hot stares.
He lifted his gaze. Otto’s eyes had darkened, and his jaw bunched.
Oh, wow. He’d flirted.
And it wasn’t a game.
Though Jessa had never imagined himself as someone anyone would lust over. Not even by Otto. Mine. Now he wasn’t so sure they were fated, though he had thought so, but maybe he’d imagined it. He wanted this experience, and it was all coming together as though it was meant to be. The murder of a drainer. Otto rescuing him outside the bookstore—Jessa’s heart was sure now that his hero had been Otto. Chasing him from the field by the co-op. The King’s edict that Jessa help. But fated love? Well, it drove people insane.
People like Qudim.
And Jessa wasn’t somebody anybody went crazy over. He was strong again, but his face was ordinary. Otto’s was gruff with a faint glimmer of suspicion on it. He probably knew Jessa was trying to seduce him and didn’t like it.
Jessa pushed his plate away.
“What are we going to do tomorrow?”
“Take a day off. Maybe you can make some more jewelry.”
“Maybe.”
“I liked the flower necklace you painted. Was that your Gold Star?”
Jessa smiled. “Yeah.”
“I saw it.”
The comment was off the cuff and stunned Jessa silent for a moment. Otto swiveled, sitting at a slant in his chair, arm across the back, gazing down the street toward the consignment store. How had Otto seen it? It was small and hidden and hard to see unless… He’d looked for it.
“Where?”
Otto glanced over. “At the murder site. I was checking out the scene again and took a look.”
Jessa bit his lip because he tried to picture Wen wading through the weeds and came up with nothing. Wen was busy though. Wen wouldn’t even think of it. They didn’t share anything really. Certainly not a love of detective work.
Or romances.
“I was named after my mom’s favorite flower.”
“Jasmine.”
He’d remembered.
Jessa nodded. “Is your mom gone too?”
“Cancer. My dad a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry. And your sister?”
Just like that Otto’s face went blank like a curtain coming down. “Her name was Maisie. She’s been gone for about ten years now. I don’t know anybody who didn’t lose somebody. I don’t even recognize some of the places I grew up.”
He fell silent then, and Jessa drank his tea. A moment later Otto asked, “How was your meal?”
“Good.”
“Have you known Wen long?”
The change of subject discombobulated Jessa for a moment, but he said, “For half my life almost.”
“Are arranged marriages common?”
Jessa nodded. “Love marriages are rare.”
Otto laughed. “Sure was with my parents.”
“I’m sorry.”
Otto shrugged. “No reason to be. They had a good run for a while.”
“I want forever.” The declaration spilled out and hung in the air like something physical Jessa wanted to stuff back inside him. He forced a smile that probably looked like a grimace. “Why are you a cop?”
Otto squinted at him but said, “My dad, I guess. He was a cop.”
“Are you glad you got your job back?”
“Not particularly. I can live without the politics, but I’ve got my teeth in this case.”
“You sound like Jackson Stork.”
Otto laughed. “I’m gonna have to read one of these books of yours.”
“You’ll love ’em.”
Otto nodded, his lips twisted in another amused smile. “Just as long as it’s not a romance.”
Jessa smiled back, trying to not be disappointed if Otto was warning him off his flirting campaign. But there was something in the twist of his lips and the look in his eye that was almost like a dare. And Jessa ached inside. The rest of his life would never be more than a comfortable friendship with Wen, and something of Qudim flared inside him. Something that burned with an eternal flame.
Mine.
26
A Dark Exhibit
Otto picked Jessa up at Comity House, waiting for him in the lounge he’d passed through the first time he’d come here. Again, voices floated from hidden places. From where he sat, he gazed on an open space with a grand piano sitting unattended on the black and white tile floor. He frowned, wondering if they entertained here. Did they have galas, fundraisers for less fortunate drainers?
He’s a feeder.
How many vampires fed from humans? Technically, it wasn’t illegal if no money exchanged hands. Stories of the mythological vampire had vampires and humans falling in love all the time. Myths based on truth?
His gaze rose at a flicker of movement from above, and he got to his feet and stood, mesmerized. Most of Jessa’s hair was in a knot on top of his head, but some of the loose strands had been woven into tiny braids that fell to his shoulders. Otto approached the stairs as Jessa descended with a smile, his eyes crinkling. His dark gray eyeliner intensified the gold in his autumn-brown eyes and a hint of glitter sparkled on his cheekbones. His hand closed on the wooden ball on the stair rail as he stepped down to the floor. Jessa was half an inch shy of Otto’s height. Broad shoulders, big hands, but willowy like one of the leggy weeds in the castle meadows.
At the car, Otto opened Jessa’s door and started around to the other side.
“So this is a photo exhibit,” Jessa said. “What happened to the jewelry angle?”
Otto laughed. “Jewelry angle? I think somebody’s been reading too many Jackson Stork novels. Nothing happened to it. We just don’t have a reason to suspect jewelry played a part in this. It was Acalliona’s occupation, and it brought him here, yeah, but maybe that’s all.”
“But Solomon Frenn?”
“Owns an art store and—”
“Is an artist,” Jessa said.
“Is he?”
“It said on the door. Owner and artist.”
Fuck, Otto hadn’t noticed that.
“That piece hanging from the ceiling was his too, I’m pretty sure of it,” Jessa added.
“You think he’s that Adini guy?”
Jessa nodded. “I got a feeling from him.”
“Strange if he is and doesn’t want anybody to know.”
“Those bits of material in the glass looked like beads, which people use in making jewelry too.”
“Sharp eye.”
“I watch Rune work.”
Otto pulled onto the street and headed toward the freeway. “Is it profitable for him?”
“Oh, it would be. Rune has a reputation, but he doesn’t sell any of it.”
“Why not?”
“I think he’s a purist. Me? If you want a necklace, I’m charging you. Fair price, but I’m still charging you.”
Otto laughed. “Something about a paycheck.”
As he drove, he twitched with a vague unease, as though Jessa was yanking apart a wall he’d spent a lifetime erecting stone by stone. He didn’t for a minute buy the spiel vampires and humans were essentially the same species. Or that vampires were the children of the angels cast out of heaven. For fuck’s sake. That one was easy to blow off. But now Jessa was saying they were all the same too, driven by the same boredom and desires.
Hardly.
How had Maisie endured getting so close to them?
And why was he?
“What are we looking for?” Jessa asked as he gazed at the flyer laying on the dashboard.
“I’m not sure. The sponsors interest me though. I’m wondering why a merchants guild would sponsor a photo exhibit.”
“I don’t know. Our jewelry is a link to our past. Maybe they see the photos that way too?”
“Could just be another venue, I guess. The flyer says there’ll be jewelry modeled on original pieces for sale too.”
“Where is Oak Valley anyway?”
“Smack in the middle of the Central Valley. It’ll probably be warm.”
“Oh, I like that,” Jessa said, settling back in his seat. “I have my sunglasses.”
He put them on and flashed Otto a quick glimpse of fangs. And instantly, Otto remembered there was nothing about Jessa that wasn’t ultimately dangerous.
He focused on the freeway in front of him, but the creature beside him tugged at his senses. He’d swear the fragrance wafting over from the passenger’s seat wasn’t cologne or aftershave. It wasn’t exactly floral, wasn’t exactly woodsy. It was what he imagined scented the air in the foothills after a spring rain. Fresh and rich and clean. He shot a quick glance to the side. Jessa’s head rested against his seat, and he was still. Sleeping? Did feeding tire him out? What did the crazed hunger that drove drainers feel like? Otto’s imagination balked at picturing Jessa as insatiable. Murderous. His brain stuttered at the thought. Jessa was only gentle.
He’s a vampire, you idiot.
An hour later, Otto pulled into Oak Valley and took a tree-lined street to the Veteran’s Memorial building. It supposedly looked much like it had before the Upheaval, though it had been retrofitted since because of the earthquakes. The building was a white single story with terracotta steps and three sets of glass doors behind three archways decorated with two blue and beige embossed medallions on either side. The medallions reminded Otto of a cameo that had belonged to his mother and that Maisie had sometimes worn.
Otto barely got his car door closed before Jessa hastened up the steps without him. Seeing a pair of vampires twist as they strolled past and follow Jessa’s path, Otto set off at a trot, catching him before he got inside.
“Stay with me,” he murmured.
Anger flashed in Jessa’s eyes, but hurt welled underneath it, and Otto’s heart clenched in sympathy. It was a fucked up world that made Jessa unsafe, that was true. But God, he didn’t like these feelings, didn’t like where Jessa was leading him without even trying. Taking a breath and remembering why he was here, he paid for their tickets and took a pamphlet with a map of the exhibit inside. The building had been added onto over the years and there were multiple rooms interlinked in a maze-like fashion.
“Where do we start?” Jessa whispered, gazing at a giant photo on the wall across from them.
The picture was of one of the underground cities, blurry but compelling, like a wreck on the freeway. Otto yielded to its pull. He nudged Jessa with his shoulder, and together they approached it. A plaque on the wall read Amaryllis Covens.
“Do you know the place?” Otto asked.
Jessa shook his head. “Only Celestine, and I don’t even remember that.”
Otto found a reference in his pamphlet. “Says it was named Amaryllis because of the red rock it was built out of. It’s one of the last cities constructed and one of the smallest.”
The photo reminded Otto of pictures he’d seen of cliff dwellings. Facades had been carved out of the rock, the dark rectangles of doors showing buildings in rows of three. Abandoned carts littered the street in front.
Jessa gasped and leaned closer. “Is that a dog?”
“Looks like it.”
The animal was in the corner of the photo, half its body out of sight.
“Why doesn’t somebody get it? The city looks stable.”
“It’s dead by now, Jessa. This picture was taken years ago. Come on. Let’s keep looking.”
Groups of visitors sauntered from photo to photo. Interspersed through the rooms were display cases of jewelry. Many of the photos depicted the attempts at excavation before the vampires had finally given up hope of returning to their homes. The episodic quakes were seldom strong and close to the surface, but fractures in the underlying rock made it too dangerous to stay underground. Some of the cities glittered as though made of starlight. For maybe the first time, pity welled inside him.
“That’s ours,” said Jessa.
He’d stopped by a stand with a glass case on top. Otto joined him. Inside was a stunning ring like the one he’d seen on King Zeveriah’s finger.
“Dinallah wore one just like it.”
“This must be a copy,” Jessa said. “Our father wore the real one, the one the King has. It was supposed to be Rune’s.”
“And Dinallah took it? Why?”
“He won.”
“But Rune agreed to step down.”
Jessa nodded. “It wouldn’t have been right for us to stay in power. Qudim could have stopped the war, but he said Synelix was an abomination and he’d never let us drink it. Rune sacrificed his honor to save us.”
“How, Jessa?”
Otto knew he should know this, but all he knew was Qudim had fallen. How, he hadn’t cared.
“Rune led him into a trap. There was no way out. I think he knew our father wouldn’t surrender.”
“I’m sorry, Jessa.”
Jessa turned, his eyes warm and soft. “He did that for us.”
Otto had a hard time accepting that anything good sprang from a vampire, but he nodded for Jessa’s sake. The war was over, the world dragging itself out of the darkness, though he had a feeling not everyone was happy with that. He looked closer at the ring. “It really is beautiful.”
Multicolored roses bloomed inside a large amber stone set in a gold filigree design of more roses.
“It’s painted on the underside,” said Jessa, “so it looks like the roses are inside it. Supposedly, the real ring is thousands of years old. Some people say it came from before the fall.”
Otto managed not to roll his eyes. That again. Fallen angels, my ass.
They went on from room to room. Most of the photos came from the excavations, and some showed the piles of gemstones that had drawn humans into the dark. The largest room was in the center of the building, its ceiling two stories high, windowless walls on all four sides. Otto caught his breath as he entered. There was only one photo. It had been blown up to cover most of the wall behind it. It was not black and white, though it appeared to be.
“Celestine,” Jessa murmured.
It was only a small part of the city, a small part of the common plaza. Celestine architecture was reminiscent of the Corinthian style except the
façades of the buildings were carved on the surface of the stone and the interiors of the buildings carved into the rock itself. The open space was cavernous, and the rock glistened. By the time the excavators had reached Celestine, the excavation program had been abandoned, and only a few pictures of the Ellowyn’s central city existed.
Otto read a few paragraphs in his pamphlet. The main building in the photo was the Celestine Library. The plaza had been a popular area, once busy with shops and cafés. Carts ran on tracks and a pulley system.
Otto looked up, and his heart raced. Where was Jessa? Shit. The amber-colored head bobbed in front of the crowd staring at the photo. He squeezed his way through. A few people sauntered off. Other than the two vampires outside, everybody else Otto had seen was human. When he drew up at Jessa’s side, he frowned at the pasty look on his face. Jessa’s gaze looked frozen. He followed it.
“Jesus,” he muttered. The last thing he expected was to see a face peering out of a dark doorway. This was no excavator. Its face was a ghostly blur, but it gave the impression of sinking back into the dark, avoiding the camera. “Are they still down there?”
Jessa stirred, and a shudder ran through him. “I don’t know. What if they can’t get out?”
“They could’ve gotten out,” said Otto. “Somebody took the photo.”
But that had been their home, and they didn’t want to leave it. Had there been others? Were they alive anymore? He vaguely remembered reading about Chernobyl in history class and the peasants who’d refused to leave despite the killer levels of radiation. Change was an enemy they fought by digging their roots into the poisoned ground. A faint chill he didn’t want to analyze ran through him.
“Come on,” he said. “I want to look at some more of the jewelry before we go.”
A sign led them down a hall lined with photos of Ellowyn tattoo designs. A door at the end opened to a cluster of booths set up in the back parking lot. Otto bought two iced teas and gave one to Jessa, who took it with a smile.
“Are you okay?” Otto asked. “I didn’t think what it might be like for you seeing those photos.”
“They don’t mean anything to me. Bettina, our cook, loves to tell me about how things were though.”