Black As Night (Quentin Black Mystery #2)

by Andrijeski, JC

  “Easier for who?” I retorted.

  “Easier for me,” he said at once. “Easier for you too, I suspect...assuming I’m right about you. But yes, there are a lot of things that would be a lot easier to explain if we had a few more compatible frames of reference.”

  “That more ‘compatible frame of reference’ being sex?”

  “Yes.” He paused, as if thinking. “Well...not necessarily. But that’s probably the easiest. And if you haven’t figured it out yet, I want to. Badly.” When I folded my arms, shaking my head, he added, “So maybe not all of my reasons are purely strategic...that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking along both lines.”

  He studied my face more closely.

  “Is this really jealousy?” he said. “Because that, I would understand. We seers are notoriously jealous. It’s almost a defining racial trait.”

  Biting my lip, I found myself fighting not to hit him again.

  I glanced around us, maybe because I’d seen him do it, but mostly to make sure no one was close enough to hear our words. We were the only ones in the pool though, probably because, despite everything, it still couldn’t be later than eleven-thirty in the morning. The hot tub had a few couples in it, but they were too far away to hear us, and the few people sunbathing weren’t close enough either. I’d seen a few curious stares in our direction, especially from the stacked blond in the red bikini, but that was about it.

  Anyway, I doubted that was due to anything we were saying.

  “Get over yourself, Black,” I said, looking back at him. “Sleep with whoever you want. I really don’t give a shit.”

  “You are jealous,” he said, moving closer. His mouth rested by my ear when he added, “Don’t worry, doc. I like it. I like it a lot.”

  He nuzzled my neck, kissing me until I shoved at his chest a second time.

  He raised his head. Frustration glanced across his eyes.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

  I only shook my head, clenching my jaw. “Black...”

  He sharpened his voice. “You want me. I can feel you want me. And you’re pissed off that I’ve been fucking humans.” When I flinched at his wording, biting my lip, he kept talking. “...You don’t like that I left you in San Francisco, even after I told you why. I plan to tell you everything you want to know once we’ve shared light...I’ve promised you that now, too. What else do you want from me, Miriam?”

  But I barely heard that part.

  I didn’t even connect the dots as to why at first.

  “I don’t want anything from you,” I said. “Nothing at all, Black.”

  Pushing at his arm, I swam out from in front of him, heading for the steps out of the pool.

  As I ascended them I looked around, spying folded towels on each of the empty lounge chairs, obviously laid out by the staff for guests. I grabbed a thick red one and used it to wipe my face. As I did, I realized I was shaking...although if it was in anger or some other emotion, I honestly couldn’t decide. I tried to think about what it was, to understand my own reactions, but the volatility I could feel around the whole thing alarmed me a little.

  Truthfully, I still wanted to punch him in the face.

  I’d managed to forget that particular effect Black had on me.

  Not just the wanting to punch him part...although that had definitely happened before. It was more that something about him had a way of dredging up feelings in me I thought I’d learned to control by the time I was fourteen years old.

  I could almost see my sister, Zoe, laughing at me from wherever she was.

  I stared down at him where he treaded water in the pool, still gripping the red towel in both of my hands where I held it between me and him.

  “Black, if you don’t tell me what I’m doing here,” I said through gritted teeth. “...I’m getting on a plane tonight. I’ll fly to one of the beaches, have myself a real vacation.” I bit my lip, then said it anyway. “...and maybe a few vacation flings of my own. You can go back to getting initiation brands from drug addicts and screwing whoever you want here.”

  He moved so fast it took me aback.

  Planting his hands on the lip of the pool, he vaulted out in a single move, seconds after the last of my words left my lips. I found myself stepping back, staring up at him as he straightened, dripping water on the tile walkway in front of me. That time, the anger in his eyes was unambiguous. He caught hold of both of my arms before I saw him move.

  Then he yanked me up against him.

  “Maybe you didn’t hear me about the possessiveness problems that we seers suffer from, Miriam,” he said. “Of course, I would never presume to tell you what to do... but you might not want to use that particular gambit to get my attention. You have no idea just how seer I think I’m likely to behave if you do...”

  I stared up at him, feeling my startle turn rapidly into anger when I saw the coldness in his expression. Still staring up at his face I clenched my jaw.

  “Are you threatening me?” I said.

  Still watching his eyes, I felt my anger turn into fury when he didn’t speak.

  “Black? Is that a threat?”

  “Against you?” He released my arms at once, stepping back. “A physical threat? No. Never.”

  “Then what the hell was it?” I said.

  He met my gaze. “Let’s just say, I wouldn’t advise you to fuck anyone you like very much right now, Miriam... not unless you’re willing to watch me retaliate in a not-very-dignified manner.”

  I couldn’t stop staring at him, fighting disbelief as I turned over his words. “Are you threatening to hurt anyone I sleep with besides you?” I said. “Or are you threatening to sleep with someone else in front of me?”

  His jaw hardened more. “On purpose?” he said. “No.”

  I fought to untangle that, too.

  “Did you just answer my question?” I said.

  “I’m saying either thing is possible. But I wouldn’t do it intentionally.”

  I fought the impulse to hit him again. “What do you mean, either thing is ‘possible’?” I clenched my jaw. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  His gold eyes somehow grew colder.

  He stared at me for a few seconds longer, as if fighting with whether to speak. Then he turned on his heel, and I practically felt him shutting down some part of himself, or at least pulling it away from me. It happened fast––fast enough to disorient me. More to the point, fast enough to make me realize how...I don’t know...lost in him I had been, at least for those few minutes. That feeling of spinning out of control scared me a second time, even as I realized we’d practically been shouting at one another as we stood on the edge of that pool.

  What the hell was he doing to me?

  Either way, him somehow pushing me away from him...with some part of his mind that is...had snapped that connection back.

  The wall had already reformed between us almost entirely before he began to walk, aiming his bare feet for the wooden walkway leading back towards the hotel. I watched him bend down fluidly to snatch a towel off a different lounge chair without slowing his steps towards those glass doors.

  “Be ready in forty minutes,” he called back, without turning his head. “Dress well. This is a formal meeting, Ms. Fox.”

  I didn’t answer. I simply gaped after him, watching him disappear.

  Five

  MR. BOUROS

  I STOOD AT the driveway’s curb outside the hotel, still fighting to get my head on straight as I checked my watch, tapping my foot in the high-heeled shoes. I was muttering under my breath, staring out over the traffic on the main road when the white SUV pulled up in front of me.

  I didn’t see our “translator” Fah that time, but the same driver I remembered from before gave me a smile and a nod as he got out to open the door. He also gave me a few quick rises of the eyebrows as he looked over my clothes, which broke me out of my anger temporarily by making me laugh...partly because I saw the smi
le in his eyes as he did it.

  Still smiling, I got into the back of the car when he opened the door.

  Adjusting myself on the leather seat, I exhaled, doing my best to relax.

  I still had no idea where we were going.

  Moreover, at this point, a big part of me wanted to tell the driver to just take me back to the airport. I wasn’t usually the fight-or-flight type, at least not in terms of non-lethal situations, so even the temptation to flee Black and whatever the hell was going on between us was enough to make me angry. I resolved to just ignore him instead, but some part of me knew that wasn’t going to work either.

  I was still staring out the window––gazing without seeing at the back of the fountain that faced the street, filled with tall, copper-colored letters spelling out Hanu Hotel––when the door opened to my right. Before I could turn, someone slid onto the seat next to me.

  When I faced him I flinched, if only because he sat so near and I hadn’t felt him at all.

  Moreover, he wore a suit, which I’d only seen him in once before.

  He, in turn, was staring at me in the violet-colored dress I wore.

  I had no idea what he thought of the outfit, since his face shifted away as soon as I turned in his direction. He wore sunglasses again, too, I noticed, even in the car, which made me wonder if he did it in part to hide his odd-colored irises.

  Focusing on the driver, he spoke to him rapidly in what had to be Thai, which made me jump again.

  “You speak Thai?” I said, surprised––and really, a little impressed.

  He turned, leveling a sunglass-laden stare in my direction.

  He didn’t bother to answer.

  Biting my lip, I looked away, folding my arms. I found myself thinking this wasn’t going to be a very fun afternoon, even apart from the fact that I had zero idea what he wanted from me in this meeting.

  “You look nice,” he said, his voice neutral.

  I looked over at him, my lips pressed firmly together.

  He was adjusting his jacket and shirt in the mirror on the back of the sun-flap above the driver’s head. When I didn’t speak, he gave me a darting look through the shades.

  “...The dress,” he added, motioning at me with one of his oddly graceful gestures before he leaned back in the seat. “It’s nice.”

  I didn’t answer.

  Despite my rapidly souring mood after our scene by the pool, the scenery managed to distract me not long after we left the hotel’s circular driveway. I don’t know what I’d expected Bangkok to be like exactly, but looking around, I realized most of my impressions must have come from movies. Those movies apparently exaggerated the “exotic” elements, since most of what I saw now struck me as more familiar than not. The sheer modernity of the city came somewhat as a surprise, even as it blended with seamless harmony into the more traditional-looking Asian buildings and street vendors and artwork to either side.

  When we reached the end of the wide-laned road under the overpass of the Skytrain, the SUV hung a right, taking us north I gauged, from where I’d remember the sun being that morning. I felt myself slowly starting to relax as we turned down that narrower street, snaking between buildings on roads lined with umbrella-covered street vendors selling everything from fruit to flowers to purses and shoes, T-shirts, jewelry and meat on skewers. Part of my relaxation came from my interest in the view, but I knew the bigger part was likely because––for the first time since I’d seen him in that police station in Old Town Bangkok––I couldn’t feel much off Quentin Black at all.

  Next to me, he felt like a ghost.

  While the reality of that absence bothered me in a different way, it at least allowed me the breathing space to sort through my own thoughts. Logic reasserted itself in that space he gave me...and ways of thinking about things, including him, that at least felt more or less familiar to how I’d thought about things for the last fifteen or so years.

  Pushing thoughts of him aside as best I could––especially the fact that he looked damned good in the black suit jacket and pants he now wore, particularly with the bone-white dress shirt he wore open at the collar underneath––I focused on the scenery outside of the car and tried to decide why I’d come out here in the first place.

  Whatever else he’d said and done, he was right about that much. I’d come when he asked. I’d also come with some thoughts of my own––admitted or not––about what might happen between us out here.

  And yes, I’d been jealous when he’d casually mentioned sleeping with other people out here. I still was, if I was being totally honest with myself.

  He’d been right about that, too.

  The thought only brought my anger back though, even as it caused me to fold my arms more tightly across my chest. Remembering his exact wording didn’t help––even as some part of me tried to pick it apart all over again. Once I noticed what I was doing, I shoved it out of my mind, focusing back on the view out my window with an effort.

  I still wanted to hit him, though.

  We pulled into an even smaller set of alleys. A high archway covered in Thai writing led us into a narrow, one-lane street lined with more street vendors, right before we drove by what looked like a Buddhist temple. As we passed the entrance into the monastery, I found my guess confirmed as I glimpsed bare feet and bald heads, bodies wrapped in saffron robes. A colorful dragon statue stood watch over a high-peaked building, red and gold with ornate eaves done up like curved flames. A large statue of a sitting Buddha stood in the center of the courtyard, and I swear I saw animal cages on either side, holding animals big enough to be monkeys.

  Not long after we’d passed that, I saw a giant white building looming overhead, surrounded by a small jungle of trees. That one definitely wasn’t a monastery. It looked distinctly European in style, but old, like something from the beginning of the Twentieth Century. A steeply sloped, curved driveway rose to meet us as the SUV turned. Vines twisted over white pillars at the front of the building, hanging down over tall windows making up the front-facing wall of a high-ceilinged room upstairs. I saw the sign then and a row of dark-uniformed attendants walking forward to take the car, waving at our driver to stop.

  Another hotel.

  This one looked significantly older than ours, and also significantly more high-end, if in a more conservative style than the modern and chic-seeming Hanu. The tall white columns and jungle-like grounds with their antique-looking statues hearkened back to the colonial era. Giant bronze elephants greeted us on either end of the glass revolving doors as we pulled up to the apex of the long driveway. Under the alcove on either side of the lobby’s entrance were two dragon boats jutting out of the sides of the building, just inside the row of white pillars. They also looked old, if well-preserved, and recently re-painted.

  Old-style doormen in white gloves and military-style uniforms at either side walked briskly to the car doors and opened them for us.

  I stepped out, feeling my nerves rise again as I remembered I had no idea what we were doing here, or who Black had brought me here to meet. Even so, when Black motioned with his jaw, I walked up to the hotel’s front entrance with purposeful strides, hoping my unease didn’t show on my face.

  Black reached my side soon after I’d passed through those revolving glass doors. When I turned, he touched my elbow lightly, still wearing the sunglasses as he tilted his head a second time, motioning me towards a long bank of elevators.

  I’d been staring around the lobby when he did it.

  Truthfully, I’d been a little stunned by the opulence. Even compared to some of the expensive hotels in San Francisco, it struck me as almost exaggeratedly high-end.

  The lobby itself was cavernous, with floor to ceiling windows facing out towards what I now realized must be the Chao Praya river and the park-like grounds of the hotel itself. Through those windows I saw a lagoon-style pool nestled inside a garden of palm trees and tropical plants, filled with snaking trails and foot bridges and blooming flowers. A bar blen
ded seamlessly into all of the greenery and old teak. Part of that bar descended lower, I realized, so that some of the chairs appeared to be inside one end of the pool.

  Women in sunglasses and hats perched there, laughing and sipping at straws stuck in tropical-looking drinks. In the distance I saw a row of sun lounges and umbrella-covered tables alongside the river itself.

  On the inside, the lobby looked like a ballroom.

  A bar stood in the shadowed part of the room to my right, done up in dark woods and animal skins and again looking like something from the earlier part of the last century. A grand piano lay in one corner near an old-style dance floor. Giant chandeliers hung from the ceiling, including one that filled the space over a gentle spiral staircase leading downstairs with white, curved bannisters. Cocktail tables and chaise lounges filled the main floor, which was also dotted with palm trees and giant sculptures that looked like real Thai antiques, possibly from old palaces or even shrines. A many-headed dragon sculpture and fountain took up a large part of the center of the room, made of marble-like stone and larger than a good-sized automobile.

  Another fountain ran down the wall over the staircase––a depiction of a flying eagle-type god that had been done in green stone.

  To my left, tucked in a fraction of all that space, I saw the registration desks.

  It looked like something out of a movie, and the well-dressed patrons wandering around with martini glasses in their hands could have been from a different time period.

  “Miriam,” Black said, his voice a touch sharp.

  I turned, and realized I’d stopped following him again somewhere in all my staring.

  Pulling my purse strap back up over my shoulder and now feeling under-dressed despite the high-heeled shoes and the calf-length, form-fitting dress I wore, I nodded right before I began to follow him.

  Ignoring his proffered hand, I walked past him instead, aiming my feet for the elevator bank behind him. We didn’t stand next to one another again until we were waiting for the elevator.