The Cartographer (The Compass series Book 6)

by Tamsen Parker

  So I had. “Was.”

  He’d looked at me for a long time, and I probably should’ve been scared, but I wasn’t. Just pissed. I wanted to spit in his face, but I knew what could happen to a brown kid dressed like I was. Nothing good. So I waited. And waited. Until he finally opened his mouth.

  “You look like a guy I used to be on the force with. Back when I worked for NYPD. You any relation to Javi Reyes?”

  He must’ve known by the way I looked at him or something, because all of a sudden, he looked sad. And old. Way too old to have known my dad. My dad had a goddamn Tom Selleck mustache; he couldn’t get old like this joker. In reality, he never had.

  Guy undid the cuffs, and in the split second before I beat it, he said, “Name’s Brian Brandon.”

  I did not give a fuck what his name was, so I ran. Even though I wanted to ignore it, I heard him anyway. “Your dad used to call me Brandy.”

  Over the course of a few months, I’d run into Brandy while I was out on my caped crusader missions. He’d cuff me—when he could catch me—and we’d talk, sitting on trashcans or leaning up against a Dumpster in dark alleys. Probably looked far more sinister or sexual than what was actually going on.

  He never brought me in, but he did lecture me. Tried to get me to knock it off, but even then I knew better. So he’d asked me why, and when I didn’t answer, Brandy started guessing. He never could keep his mouth shut. Fucking Brandy.

  One night when he found me, I’d had the shit kicked out of me pretty bad. Split lip, bloody nose I was lucky wasn’t broken, and an eye that would turn black and swollen overnight. Brandy didn’t even bother cuffing me that time, just hauled me over to his squad car, shoved me into the front seat, and broke out the first-aid kit he carried to clean me up.

  I didn’t flinch when he ran the alcohol swab across the gash over my eyebrow.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid? Do you like being hurt?”

  All I did, all it took, was looking in his face and not saying a damn word. He stared at me, shook his head, and ran a hand down his face, looking like he was going to live to regret whatever came out of his mouth next.

  “Fine. You want to get hurt? Fine. But you’re not going to get killed doing it. Javi would roll over in his grave, and neither of us want that. So here’s what you’re going to do. You wear jeans and a black T-shirt. You got black boots?”

  I nodded.

  “Then wear those too. You meet me at the corner of 13th and Sansom, ten o’clock Saturday night. It’s either that, or the next time I catch you, I’m bringing you in. Got it?”

  There really hadn’t been a choice, and the rest, as they say, is history. History I’m not quite ready to share with Allie, but maybe someday I will because I think Brandy would like to meet him. Scratch that, I know Brandy would love to meet him and give me a hard time.

  Brandy lives in Haverford now. He’s got a nice spread he wouldn’t be able to afford on his PPD pension, but it’s a perk of saving a rich kid from himself, I suppose. I visit him sometimes when I’m back on that coast, although not as often as I used to and not nearly as often as I should, considering I owe him so much.

  As grateful as I am to Brandy—and I am—I can’t stomach being around him for long. He makes me feel like I did back then, and I don’t want to feel that way. Like a scared, fucked-up, and seriously angry kid. I was so fucking reckless. Maybe worst of all, he still talks about my father, and it makes me angry. Which is stupid. I should cling to the old stories as hard as I can, not let any particle of them slip through my fingers like sand, but I get so goddamn jealous that Brandy had more time with him than I ever did. Also, I don’t want to hear anything that’s going to make my dad less than a hero in my eyes. I’ve seen too many people I admire and respect fall, fail, do things that make my brain buzz with incredulity—how could you do that?—betray my good opinion of them. Can’t there be one person on earth who I get to look up to? Even if he’s a false idol, I want someone to worship.

  Before Allie can tell exactly how lost I’m getting in those old memories, of how exactly a friend of my father’s introduced me to the world I now call my home, I need to move this conversation along. India had understood. I don’t know Allie would. Middle-aged guy bringing a sixteen-year-old boy to a kink club? In other circumstances, I’d be skeeved out or at least cautious myself. But for me, finding kink is the reason my mother still has a son, and I won’t brook anyone talking smack about the man who did that for me.

  “So, anyway, by the time I was in college, I was pretty well-versed, and I wanted more than anything else to share it with other people. Other people who must have been seeking as much as I was. Unlike me, they hadn’t found it yet. That’s how I met India.”

  He nods, drinking up the droplets of information I’ve meted out. It’s a lot to process. Then he looks at me again with that steady, earnest gaze. “When you said earlier that there’s an animal inside you and I should be afraid?”

  This is it. This is when he gets dressed, calls me a freak, and walks out. That’s what he should do, but I’m too selfish to tell him to leave. “Yes, I remember that quite clearly.”

  “Thing is, I don’t think there’s an animal inside you.”

  I open my mouth to protest that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but he cuts me off before I can. “I think there are two.”

  That’s…not precisely reassuring. “What makes you say that?”

  “I mean, there’s definitely a part of you that has some serious bloodlust. I saw it in some of the guys I served with, the ones who were itching for a fight, who would look for any excuse to get violent. We kept an eye on those guys and stayed away from them at the same time. That’s who you reminded me of tonight with those muggers. You wanted to fuck them up.”

  Yes, I had. Would’ve delighted in beating both of them into a bloody pulp, so damaged and broken from my handiwork you wouldn’t have been able to tell where one body ended and the other began.

  “But you never look at me like that. Yeah, you want to hurt me.” He smiles then, the sheepish one that says he’s still unsure how he feels about enjoying that as much as he does, but, oh, does he enjoy it. “But not like that. You don’t want to kill me. I know what that looks like, and that’s not you.”

  Hard to argue with that. Not only does the idea of anything serious happening to Allie make me upset, but the idea of me being the one harming him? I would never do that, in reality or even in fantasy.

  “So maybe that’s the other beast, the one you let out to play. And I…I like that one a lot, and I bet a lot of other people do too. So don’t use that as an excuse. You might have the potential to be dangerous, but you’ve got that shit under control. I refuse to be afraid of you.”

  I cock my head at him, because…hell. I’ve convinced more people than I can count that all of their fetishes, impulses, inclinations, and desires are all okay. It’s how you act on them that makes all the difference. Which I’ve applied to myself: I keep that beast on a leash. Here Allie is, though, telling me, no, there’s two of them—one of which I set free to run about the earth with other people who want to play and the other that’s never let off its lead. It’s a shift. A small one, perhaps, but one I appreciate because it lets me wipe out the occasional voice in the middle of the night that tells me I should’ve sacrificed myself a long time ago.

  I can’t say thank you for that, though. Don’t want him to lose confidence in me. Instead, I issue an invitation. “Then perhaps you’d like to play again?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‡

  I almost choke on my toothbrush as India hip-checks me, her flannel short-shorts meeting my cotton pajama pants with a solid thump.

  “Stop hogging the mirror.”

  I bend down and spit before rinsing out my mouth and giving her a dirty look. “How can I possibly be hogging the mirror when there are two of them? Do you need both of them, Your Royal Highness of Vanity?”

  She smil
es around her own toothbrush and then spits into the sink in front of her and, to make her point, rinses her brush out in the sink in front of me.

  “Cris doesn’t mind.”

  Oh, the doe eyes. “Don’t you even fake innocence with me. I know every filthy thing you’ve ever done.”

  “You’ve done a bunch of them to me.”

  True. As I rinse out my own brush, I notice her staring at me, her gaze roaming my bare torso.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  She shrugs, the spaghetti strap of her camisole sliding down her shoulder. “It’s possible Matty asked me to keep an eye on you.”

  “Did he now?” It doesn’t even take a second for me to regret the testiness in my tone. Not that India would let me get away with that anyhow. She’s got her hands on her hips, and she’s giving me one of those patented narrow-eyed glares of hers.

  “Yes, he did. Do you know why? It’s because he cares about you and he worries about you and he said you’ve been distracted and haven’t been taking care of yourself. You know if anything ever happened to you, he’d be devastated and blame himself.”

  “What about you?” I ask, pulling her in front of me and wrapping my arms around her while I rest my chin on the top of her head.

  She shrugs, but I can see uneasiness widen her eyes and feel the hitch in her breath. I give her a squeeze, but she won’t meet my eyes, not even in the glass. I’ve upset her and I didn’t mean to.

  “You’re going to live forever.” Her voice is all prim and stiff, even though her lips are soft as she kisses my forearm.

  “It’s true,” I assure her because India is one of the people who doesn’t like to think about my mortality. Or Cris’s. Or anyone’s really. “I’ve already infiltrated the vampire cabal, I’m just waiting on them to turn me. You know how persuasive I can be. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

  She bites me then, and the sharp teeth sinking into my flesh let me know she feels better. I don’t bother to react, not even out of habit. Then she’s unwinding my arms from around her and dragging me by the hand back into the bedroom and over to the bed.

  We climb in, and she snuggles up next to me, resting her head on my shoulder and sliding an arm around my waist. Thank god Cris is secure enough in their relationship he doesn’t have a problem with India and me sharing a bed when he’s not around. Sleeping with another person is one of life’s great pleasures, one I miss since I don’t get to request Matthew’s presence whenever I feel like it anymore.

  Yes, I occasionally have the privilege with Allie, but exclusively when I’ve beat or fucked him so silly he doesn’t remember to keep distance between us. I would be lying if I said I never take advantage of that.

  India is a particularly good person to cuddle up with since she takes zero effort to get into bed with and sleeps like a stone. A solid, still ball of heat. Like a human hot water bottle. I sleep easier when we’re all twisted up together, and I don’t quite know why.

  “You are, you know.”

  “Hmm?”

  I stroke her hair in hopes of diverting her with physical affection. It’s not a crazy tactic. She’s like a cat that way. But she’s not to be deterred this time.

  “Distracted. What’s up with that?”

  I don’t answer because I’m honestly hoping she’ll fall asleep and forget all about it, and in the morning, she’ll have to hustle out to the office too early to bug me about it again. My India, though—she’s nothing if not tenacious when there’s something she wants. She levers herself onto her elbow and glares at me. “Spill, Walter.”

  As with so many things where India is concerned, resistance is futile.

  “It’s Hart.” The confession makes my jaw flex. Because even if I’m talking about it, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

  Her black hair spills over her shoulder as she tilts her head. “You’re still seeing him?”

  “I am.”

  “That’s…” Ha, I’ve done it. India Burke at a loss for words. I won’t revel in my victory for too long, though. I don’t want her to pout.

  “Surprising? Yes, I’d have to agree.”

  Not that I don’t date. Not that I don’t have various sorts of partners. I do. This is different, and she can tell.

  “Are you not…enjoying it?”

  She sounds confused, and she ought to. She knows as well as anyone I rarely tolerate dissatisfaction.

  “I am.”

  “So the problem is…?”

  “I didn’t say there was a problem.”

  “No, but you’re acting all weird. It’s making me uncomfortable. Stop doing that.”

  A terribly uncivilized snort makes its way out of my nose. “Not to worry, little one. It’s merely temporary. Next time I see you, I’ll be back to my old self.”

  She settles back against me, though this time higher up my body so we’re lying face-to-face on the same pillow. It’s a strange privilege, to share this unbearable intimacy with her, knowing I’m one of two people in the world allowed through all the layers of brittle shell and into the tender, innermost heart of India. She looks at me with those bewitching eyes of hers and I try not to blink, but having her scrutinize me this way is unnerving. I’d hate to work for the woman. She’s got to be the world’s most demanding and incisive boss.

  That’s when I commit myself to it…to breaking things off with Allie. To stop dragging my feet and find him someone new, someone worthy of him. I’ve had a few ideas kicking around in the back of my head, but all this time I’ve been telling myself he’s not ready. In this moment, I can admit that’s not true. He’s more than ready. It’s me who’s not, and I have to stop holding him back from finding someone who can appreciate everything he is and everything he needs.

  The thing is, I could hold onto him, but at the end of the day, I won’t be able to always put him first. My attention is always going to be divided, and at some point, someone is going to need me more than he does and he’s not going to be okay with that. Nor would it be fair to my clients and all the other people who rely on me to have my consideration split so.

  As much as I enjoy him, it’s selfish to keep playing at this. I need to cut him loose. When I get back to San Francisco, I’ll do it. Introduce him to some people, see which one he takes a shine to, and then I’ll hand him off. Better than he was before. Someone is in for a treat because Allie’s a downright indulgence.

  “I can tell what you’re thinking.”

  India’s rarely quiet, but she is now.

  “What’s that?”

  “You don’t have to give him up, you know.”

  A whole mess of images floods my mind: me and Allie at a Raiders game while he attempts to explain football to me for the umpteenth time because I’ve never really taken to that game; the look on Allie’s face as I tell him I love him; a small herd of teenagers tromping down the stairs of the townhouse we’d share because, even though I don’t think I could deal with babies, I could see adopting a few queer kids whose parents have kicked them out; kissing Allie at the airport before I have to board yet another plane; me and Allie up at an altar saying I do.

  Just as suddenly, they’re gone because that’s not what’s in my future. Too much work to be done, too many chess pieces to move, too many people to save, too many puppet strings to pull. Helping people is the best and most important thing I can do, and goddamn it, I’ll do it. It’s my calling, my responsibility. I can’t see having Allie and having that all at once. Something’s got to give, and I know what it has to be.

  “I do. I’ve been having a hard time finding someone who’s good enough for him. He reminds me of you that way.”

  I ruffle her hair, and she frowns, shaking her loose curls clear of my fingertips. “I mean it. Haven’t you learned anything from all the people you’ve helped and parceled off?”

  She leans over me then, putting her hand to my cheek and stroking my stubble with the pad of her thumb while she l
ooks into my eyes, her gaze so penetrating I feel as though she’s reaching into my soul. Is this how I make people feel? I don’t care for it. Best to be on the other side. For so many reasons.

  “You’re allowed to be happy too, you know. If anything, you deserve it more than anyone else. There’s not a one of us who wouldn’t want to see you get your own happily ever after.”

  It’s cute she thinks so, but I can’t put that theory to the test. She should know better than that herself. I can’t imagine she’d be anything other than vexed if she needed me to get on a plane and I couldn’t because something, someone, I’d chosen needed me more or at least got first dibs on my time.

  “So noted. Now don’t you have to be up early tomorrow? Go the fuck to sleep.”

  A smile props up the corner of her mouth, but I don’t think for a second she’s actually dropped this. At least let her put it down long enough for us to get to bed. At any rate, she pats my cheek and bends down to give me a kiss in the same spot.

  “Yes, sir.”

  That’s more like it. She shuts the lamp off and settles into me once again. It’s only a few minutes before her breath is the deep and even of sleep, until her slim but strong frame is warm, dead weight against me. I try to follow her into dreamland, but instead I lay awake for hours, going through my catalogue of the Bay Area’s kinky eligible bachelors and trying to ignore the images that keep flickering on the screen of my too-busy mind. They feel like an alternate universe, those snapshots of a future with Allie. An alternate universe I don’t have access to, so I should man up and get on with it, give away my Hart.

  *

  I’ve asked Matthew to help me with my unenviable chore, and as always, he’s done my bidding with aplomb. I don’t like it, but if I have to do it—and I do—I’m going to make sure it gets done right.

  On Tuesday he hands me a stack of manila folders. I look up at him questioningly, and he smiles slightly.

  “Alphabetical. I didn’t feel qualified to organize them any other way.”