by Battis, Jes
I handed him the bowl. “Eat.”
Patrick didn’t need to be told twice. He fell to like a starving man, devouring the rice, veggies, and peanut satay with incredible gusto. Mia raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. I picked at my bowl, still feeling like solid food was a bit beyond me.
He was done in about two minutes. The food gave him back some color, but not much. I wondered how long it would take for the vampiric changes to begin asserting themselves. Lucian had said that he was unlike other vampires. He could obviously still function in the daylight, and he was craving peanut sauce instead of human blood, so that was a plus. Maybe, if we handled him with kid gloves, we’d actually be able to ease him into the change. He could even become an ally.
Or he could just murder us all in our sleep. It was fifty-fifty at the moment.
“Thanks,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I feel a bit better. I guess I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
“Remind us to keep you out of the pantry.” Mia slid the bowl away. “You’re like a hoover with an appetite.”
He managed to look embarrassed. Then his expression changed. His eyes met mine, and they were bleak. “Tess—do you know where Caitlin is?”
I exhaled. “There’s no easy answer to that question.”
“Don’t coddle me. Just tell me the truth.”
Bless him—trying to look so fierce and grown up. He wasn’t ready for this. He was barely three years older than Mia. Just a kidlet. I never thought I’d feel this old at twenty-five, but I couldn’t deny it.
I looked at Mia. Her eyes seemed to say: Might as well give it to him. She’d heard more than her fair share of atrocities, after all. Probably it was better to strike hard and fast. Then we could all pick up the pieces later. The thought was strange. Maybe that’s what I’d become in the last year. Someone who put everyone else back together. Like a soul doctor. I worried that Mia might sue me for malpractice when she got older and realized how messed up I really was.
“She’s dead, Patrick,” I said. My voice was flat. “She was murdered by a serial killer—a demon who’s also killed four other people. Kids, actually. The children of powerful mage families.”
He frowned, like I’d just spoken in another language or asked him to assemble my dining room table from Ikea. “She’s dead.”
It wasn’t a question. More of an echo.
“Yes. She was killed tonight.”
“You said”—he swallowed thickly—“a demon? That’s who killed her?”
I nodded. “A very powerful demon. We’re tracking him. Did . . .” I wasn’t quite sure how to phrase this without breaking open his life even further. “Did Caitlin explain to you—about demons?”
“She’s a demon,” he replied. Still using the present tense. If there’d been any doubt in my mind that Patrick was involved in Caitlin’s murder, it was gone now. He was simply another victim.
“Yes. Caitlin was a vampire.” If not for the word “vampire,” it might have sounded like I was lecturing a small child. “And so are you, Patrick.”
His eyes were glassy. “Yeah. I know.”
Mia paled at this. She shifted next to him, but didn’t move away. We’d had the same talk with her a year ago, but back then, there’d been a lot more yelling. Patrick’s reaction was the opposite. He was almost serene.
“How much did Caitlin tell you—about being a vampire?”
His voice had grown hoarse. “She said that I was different.”
“What did she say, specifically?”
He frowned, as if trying to remember. “She said—that I would change more slowly. That I could do different things, but not right away. It would take time. She said that it wasn’t a bad thing. That it was a blessing.” He looked me in the eyes. “That’s what she called me. Her special blessing. When I woke up in the hospital room, I was alone. But then she appeared. I had a fever and I thought I was going crazy, but then I could hear her voice in my mind, and it was like putting my hands in cool water.”
“You’re a part of her.” Lucian spoke for the first time. “Her power, her legacy, is in your blood. Some things will take a long time to surface, but other things might happen quickly. So quickly, you’ll be confused and frightened. But Caitlin also left a set of instructions in your mind, like a blueprint.”
This was news to me. “She did?”
Lucian nodded. “It’s part of the succession process. Caitlin left a mark on Patrick, and that mark affects every cell, every atom, in his body. He’ll have guidance, but it won’t come right away. That’s what I meant about being scared.”
“So she’s—like—inside me?” He turned to Lucian. “How do you know about it? Were you friends with her?”
Boy, wasn’t that the million-dollar question tonight?
“We knew each other, yes,” he replied. There was a low, surprising confidence in his voice. Maybe Lucian was exactly what Patrick needed right now. “I can explain some things to you. But not all of it. Eventually, you’ll have to talk to others in your community. They’ll know a lot more.”
“Other vampires?”
He nodded. “Caitlin had many allies. She was loved and respected, and most people in the community will defer to you. Some won’t. The issue of loyalty is complicated, but we can deal with that later.”
Patrick turned back to me. “Why did another demon kill her? I don’t understand. I mean—she was really powerful, right? People were afraid of her.”
“We’re not entirely sure.” Now was not the time for an infodump, especially since Patrick looked dizzy again, like he might throw up on my couch. “The killer probably knew Caitlin, and she may have a connection with the other victims. Aside from that, we’re still working on it. Our job right now is to keep you safe.”
“Am I next?”
It was a fair question. “Possibly,” I said. “But then again, we’re all at risk. This thing is dangerous and very smart. The best thing we can do now is stick together. Which is why you’ll be crashing with us tonight.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s good, since—I guess I’m homeless.”
A look of sympathy passed over Mia’s face. She remembered exactly what it felt like to have her family destroyed, her home taken away from her.
“This is a hella big house,” she said, standing up. “Come on. I’ll show you the spare room, and we can steal some blankets from Derrick. He’s a total queen about his sheets and has, like, five matching sets.”
“Okay,” he said shyly.
“Follow me.” She led him down the hallway. My heart gave a lurch as I realized how quickly she was growing up. It wasn’t fair. She should be hanging out at the Metrotown mall and texting her friends about boys and homework and Miley Cyrus, or whatever fourteen-year-olds talked about. Instead, she was planning for her SATs and fetching clean sheets for the next vampire magnate.
“They’d better not get too friendly,” I muttered to myself. “The last thing we need around here is a Jamie Lynn Spears crisis.”
“Vampires can’t reproduce,” Lucian clarified.
“Oh. Why not?”
“They don’t have a functioning reproductive system. All of their organs harden and atrophy after the change.”
“So, they can’t—” I waved my hand uselessly in the air.
“Cum?” He shook his head. “No.”
“But he’s a magnate. What if he has, like . . .”
He looked at me expectantly.
“Don’t make me say it. He’s seventeen, Lucian. He should be a white-hot sex machine at that age. And Mia’s young, true, but she can also be—curious. I don’t want her curiosity to lead her into that spare bedroom.”
“Trust me. Vampires can’t reproduce. They also can’t spread STIs, because they don’t have living tissue. Their blood is noncirculating. They can only get hard if they have fresh blood inside them.”
“Huh. I never thought of that before.” I frowned. “But if they can’t . . .”
&n
bsp; “Cum?”
“Stop saying that! She might hear you!”
He smiled wryly. “Are we in a church? I’m sure Mia’s old enough to figure out those particular mechanics.”
I sighed. “Chances are, she has a better grasp of it than I do. It’s not like I’ve been terrorizing the dating scene lately.”
“Me neither. It’s been a quiet year.”
I hadn’t expected him to say that. “Really?”
He nodded. “I’ve been distracted. Mostly kept to myself.”
“Even with that executive fuck chamber you call a warehouse?”
“You’d be surprised how much of a turnoff it can be. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s a little rough around the edges.”
“I like the edges just as they are.”
He smiled. “Really.”
This was quickly getting into dangerous territory. “I need to have a shower,” I said, getting up. “It’s only a matter of time until there’s a line for the bathroom, so I’m going now. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“Can I fix you a drink in the meantime?”
The question disarmed me. I wasn’t sure what I thought about Lucian pawing through my liquor collection, which mostly consisted of Maker’s Mark and some dessert wine that had lain untouched since my mother brought it over.
The CORE has ironclad rules. I heard my mother’s voice. Not that I wasn’t a world-class expert at breaking the rules by now. But Lucian and I were so different, magically speaking, that it was almost a cross-species relationship. The CORE would rather have us both locked in padded cells.
“Maybe—um—something really light,” I said. “I’ve had enough weird substances floating through my body lately.”
He seemed to take that in stride. “Just something to help you sleep.”
“I don’t need any help in that department,” I said, heading for the bathroom. “I’m dead on my feet already.”
I eased myself into the yellow-tiled shower. The hot water was like a blessing raining down on my entire body. I let myself go unfocused for a while, and I could feel the aqueous materia curling around my limbs in little blue sparks, adumbrating my body and mixing with the steam. I closed my eyes. In this world, everything was perfect. I didn’t have to leave. I could stay here forever, and maybe Lucian would even join me, if I asked nicely—
The thought sent up a red flag in my mind. No shower time with Lucian Agrado! That was the last complication I needed tonight.
I emerged wearing my plaid UBC pajamas and an oversized T-shirt, without a bra. I wanted to send the right message: No sexy. Not tonight. Lucian smiled when he saw my ensemble. He was pouring red wine into two mismatched cups.
“Is that my Get Fuzzy mug?”
“You didn’t have any wineglasses.”
“Yeah, we’re not exactly the Hyatt.” I glanced at the bottle. “Bordeaux? Where did you find that?”
“It was hiding on the top shelf.”
“Must have been a housewarming gift. I didn’t even know it was there.” I sat down on the couch—near enough to be sociable, but far enough to stay platonic. “At least I look a bit more human now.” I’d scrubbed away the caked-on concealer and untangled my hair as best I could. It was damp and curled against my shoulders.
“You looked good before.” He handed me the mug. “You always look good.”
Great. The pajamas obviously weren’t working.
“I checked on Mia,” he said absently. “She and Patrick are fooling around.”
My eyes widened.
“On the computer,” he finished, smiling.
“Right. They’re probably looking up how to assemble a bomb.”
“They were just on the Internet Movie Database. Mia was educating him about French-Canadian cinema.”
I shook my head. “That kid’s never predictable. Not in the least.”
I sipped the wine. It tasted like raspberries and something infused with smoke. I felt it warm my stomach. “It’s good.”
Lucian shifted position, and I saw that one of his feet was absently scratching Baron’s belly. The dog was stretched out before him like a disciple. Lucian’s socks, I noted, were black and faded. I spied a hole in one of them. The pink of his heel showed through. It was suddenly the sexiest bit of flesh I’d ever seen. I concentrated on my wine, telling myself to take it easy. Otherwise it would go straight to my head.
Twenty minutes later, it had gone straight to my head.
“Really?” Lucian laughed, his cheeks slightly flushed. It was nice to realize that even necromancers could get lit. “You really made out underneath a Boyz II Men poster? On a pink-ruffled bedspread?”
I nodded. “Scout’s honor. And Derrick’s tongue kept, like, darting between my teeth, like this crazy little minnow . . .”
Lucian cracked up. “Maybe that was his technique.”
“I know, right?” The mug balanced precariously in my hand. “Like, what if that was his very best move?”
“Watch out, boys. Here comes the minnow.”
“The tongue!” I giggled. “The scary tongue!”
“What if he’s doing it to Miles right now?”
“He probably is.”
“And Miles is just, like, dodging the minnow tongue . . .”
I made a weaving and bobbing motion, and Lucian laughed. “He’s like, why does this dude keep trying to lick my teeth?”
“I’m sure his kissing has improved since then.”
“Maybe. I hope so.”
“I’ll bet Miles has game, even if Derrick doesn’t. He seemed to have a rockin’ little body underneath that cute Windbreaker.”
Curiosity got the better of me. I took another drink, swallowed, and felt the warmth burn down my throat. “Have you been with boys, Lucian?”
He wiggled an eyebrow at me. “Have you been with girls, Tessa?”
“Ugh! That’s what my mom calls me.”
“It’s a beautiful name.”
I looked down to hide my burning cheeks. “I was with a girl once in college,” I said diffidently. “It wasn’t earth-shattering. Mostly, I was surprised how wet some girls could get down there. It was like I needed hip waders or something.”
“Did you like it?”
I shrugged. “It was different. I didn’t not like it. And I actually came pretty hard when she went down on me. She really knew what to do with her thumb and pinkie finger. Skill, I think it’s called. Not like most guys, who sort of, just”—I made a clawlike motion with my right hand—“you know? Like they’re scratching a lottery ticket. It’s not really that complicated. We don’t have manual transmissions.”
He grinned. “Some guys like to complicate things. Usually, if you follow your instincts, it all works out fine.”
“So what about you?”
“What about me?” He took another sip.
“Boys! Have you ever been with any boys?”
He shrugged. “I’m nothing if not adventurous.”
“So, are you . . .” I spread my hands.
“I’m basically hetero,” he said. “But I’d say I’m open to possibilities.”
The “basically hetero” part relaxed me a bit.
“What’s this . . .” Lucian made a face and reached behind him. “I think I’m sitting on something.” He pulled out the stereo remote.
“Sorry. It gets stuck between the pillows.”
He flicked the power button. There was a soft click, and then a familiar song filled the living room.
“Greg MacPherson,” he said. “I approve.”
“Well, you know me—always dying for your approval.”
Lucian stood up, setting his mug down.
“What are you doing?”
He smiled and extended his hand. “Dance with me.”
I snorted. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m dead serious.”
The pun made me smirk. “As a necromancer, wouldn’t you have to be undead serious? Or ‘mostly dead’ serious?”
“Just dance with me, Tess.”
I put down my wine. “This is dumbass romantic.”
“That’s me. A dumbass romantic.” He wiggled his fingers. “Come on.”
Warily, I took his hand. It slid over mine, warm and certain. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and the palm of his hand pressed against my back. I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it.
“I feel like we’re at the prom.”
“We are. Can’t you see the streamers?” He smiled. “Blue and gold and red, draped across the ceiling and the couch. And all the balloons.”
“Purple and silver,” I said, moving closer to him. “Like on my sixth birthday. There was a cake with butter cream icing. And games. And I got to eat all the pizza I wanted. I ate so much that I puked.”
He laughed softly. “That sounds like you.”
I tucked my head into the crook of his neck. Beneath the clean-smelling deodorant and the hint of sweat, I could smell him. The real him. Coppery, dark, like bitter herbs and licorice and smoke. I closed my eyes. The music washed over us, and I felt so light. My bones were transparent and made of fire. If Lucian let go, I’d float upward, just like one of those purple and silver balloons. I’d be lost forever.
Your voice is nothing against the noise
Of the engine grinding out that summer line,
Coast in slow over Reno; the Diablos
I can almost see the waves break on the dial.
“I’ve never been to Reno,” I sighed.
He kissed me then. It wasn’t an angry, immediate kiss, like we’d had in the bedroom of my old apartment. This was a slow, patient, timeworn kiss. His lips just seemed to settle on mine. I let him in. His breath tasted like peanut sauce. I ran fingers through his baby-fine hair, soft as corn silk.
I pulled away. “Lucian . . .”
“What?”
I looked down. “I don’t exactly feel sexy right now. I’m wearing my rattiest old pajamas. No makeup. My hair looks like a bird’s nest, and my breath probably smells . . . really gross. I don’t even want to talk about why. Every muscle in my body hurts, and now I’m kind of buzzed—but not drunk—so I realize that this is probably a really bad move. And the worst possible timing ever.”