by Jes Battis
My thumb brushed the lily tattoo, just above his clavicle. I felt a shock. It was slight, but still very real.
I put my mark on you, the Iblis had said. But what had it really meant? I’d seen the creature melt into a pool of bloody wax, so I knew that it wasn’t about to answer any of my questions. Still, I wanted to know. I wanted to know more about the man who belonged to this body, his body, still locked inside mine.
We stood for a while, breathing hard, unable to speak. Finally, when he’d recovered his composure enough, he took my hand and led me upstairs. It was already like a dream. I slipped into my side of the bed and was barely conscious of him throwing the comforter on top of me. I closed my eyes. He laid his feet atop mine. His hand was on my back, still.
I can’t remember anything else.
10
It was Derrick’s first day back in the lab.
He walked with a slight limp, and there was still some bruising visible on his face. Other than that, he seemed his regular self. I kicked myself mentally for not pressing the matter with Miles when we’d last talked. Something had seemed wrong about the moment. And really, how do you bring up a question like, Hey, do you feel like your boyfriend may have assaulted your mind lately?
Still, it might have been nothing but a hiccup.
He looked around as we stepped into the guest suite. “Hey, this place is swank. You should charge by the night.”
“It’s kind of a holding cell,” I said in a low voice.
Ru was sitting on the couch with his headphones on. When he saw us, he took out the earbuds. He looked Derrick up and down.
“You were at the morgue,” he said.
“I was. I like your pants. They’re a bit big, though.”
“Yes. They are voluminous.” He extended his hand. “I’m Ru. Am I doing this right? With my hand?”
Derrick took it. “Absolutely. Good shake.”
“Good shake to you, too. I assume you’ve come to read my thoughts.”
Derrick sat on the opposite end of the couch. “It doesn’t quite work that way. I might be able to get a blurry picture from your mind, but it’s not like reading an e-mail. If you don’t want me to see something, I won’t be able to.”
“I’m not sure that I believe you.”
“Ru—” I chose my next words carefully. “Derrick also has memories from that night, but he needs help recovering them. It’s not his intention to comb your mind for data. He just wants to try to reconstruct the events as faithfully as possible.”
Ru’s expression bordered on resignation, which seemed odd coming from someone who looked like a child. Then he shrugged. “You’re already digging into the earth. You might as well dig into my brain.”
“You must want to remember something about what happened to you.”
I felt like a terrible person as the words left my mouth. I was coaxing a young demon into reliving what was probably the worst night of his life.
“Remembering is hard,” he said. “But I guess it’s necessary. What must I do in order to assist you?”
“Just be still.” Derrick put his hands in his lap. “I don’t have to touch you. But you may feel something almost like a touch.”
Ru looked at me. “What’s your job? Do you guard the door?”
I sat in the wingback chair next to the couch. “I provide neutral energy. It lessens the chance that you and Derrick might cross wires.”
“And what does it mean to cross wires?”
“It’s nothing bad,” Derrick assured him. “Just think of her as a dehumidifier.”
Ru frowned. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Relax. I’m going to start now. If you feel uncomfortable, even a little bit, she’ll be right there. All you have to do is say her name.”
He nodded. “All right. Proceed.”
Derrick looked at the ground. As he began to draw slowly into himself, I heard his voice clearly. If things get weird, grab him and close the door behind you. Don’t let me out of the room.
A chill went through me. Is that really necessary? I started to ask. But the conscious part of him was already gone.
All three of us were silent for about twenty seconds.
“What?” Ru asked suddenly. “I can’t hear you.”
Derrick said nothing.
Ru frowned. Then he swallowed thickly and made a face, like someone with a sore throat. “What is that? What are you doing?”
I wanted to ask the same question. Usually, Derrick was employed to read the minds of demons who were already dead. The last time I’d seen him read a human’s mind was when he was doing telepathy exercises with Selena. That was when he’d pulled a mysterious name from her mind. Jessica.
“That’s a weird question,” Ru said, although now he wasn’t looking at either of us. “What kind of neighborhood do you live in?”
Derrick’s expression didn’t change. His pupils were pinned, and he stared at the carpet. His hands remained folded neatly in his lap.
Ru gave a small shudder.
His eyes lost their focus. He sank into the couch, seeming to wilt slightly. For what seemed like a minute, all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing. Then Ru spoke. His voice was the same, but his expression was almost vegetative.
“My dam’s name is Tyr. My sire’s name is Osh. We live in Four, under the cloud cover.” He was silent for a bit. Then: “I had a vapor-worm. He was my pet. One night he broke into the pantry and ate his way through my mother’s preserves. I wasn’t allowed to play with worms after that.”
I could see the dendrite materia gathering around Derrick’s body in white pops and flashes. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
“I see him in the mirror,” Ru said. “I see his room. The walls are dark and made of wood. The floor is plastic, melted in places. The light makes it hard to see. My head’s spinning. But then it passes. I pass.”
Derrick’s hand moved slightly. I felt something cold and heavy brush past me.
Ru stood up, his expression changing.
“I don’t want to.”
I tensed. “Ru,” I said. “If you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”
But Ru wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at something invisible, something that brought tears to his eyes.
“There was blood,” he said, his lip trembling. “On my shoes. And his eyes were closed, but he knew that I was there. He said my name. I put my head in his lap, and he touched my hair. I could feel it.”
“Derrick.” I rose. “Stop. He needs a breather.”
He didn’t react. His eyes were glued to the carpet. His hands moved slowly up and down his jeans, as if ironing out creases. His mouth remained slightly parted, and I almost thought he was going to break into a smile. But there was nothing behind his eyes. They were wide, unlit rooms.
“He keeps telling me to go,” Ru whispered. “He keeps saying the same thing, over and over. There’s blood on my shirt, too. I don’t want to leave. What if I can’t ever come back? I don’t want him to be alone. I don’t want to be alone.”
I snapped my fingers in front of Derrick’s face. “Quit it.”
He grabbed my wrist.
His grip was surprisingly strong. I tried to yank my hand away, but he held on. His eyes narrowed slightly.
I felt an echo stir in my mind.
Derrick’s fingers were like ice. Colors danced at the edges of my vision. I raised a psychic defense. He leaned against my wall, gently at first, then with renewed vigor. The foundation started to crack.
“El!” Ru screamed. “Don’t! Please! I want to stay with you!”
I drew my athame, reversing it so that the hilt was extended. Derrick’s mind was scrabbling for purchase within my own. He was tugging on the substrate of my consciousness, shining light into the dark corners. His grip intensified, and I felt him pulling up threads of memory and desire, their root systems exposed.
I touched the hilt of the blade to his neck.
“Derrick.�
�
Light flared between us. I smelled smoke and pulled the blade away immediately. The pressure in my head dissolved.
“Did you just burn me?”
I winced as I saw the red mark already forming on his neck. “Sorry, hon. You were kind of trampling through Ru’s brain. And mine.”
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” He looked at Ru. “Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you or anything, did I?”
Ru didn’t answer. When Derrick stretched out his hand, the demon flinched.
“I think we should leave Ru alone for a bit,” I said.
Derrick nodded slowly, rising.
“I’m really sorry,” he said again. His voice was broken. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to—”
Ru stared at the ground. He couldn’t look Derrick in the eyes.
“You can page Selena if you need anything,” I told the demon. “You know the number. We’ll be right outside.”
He was frozen for a moment. Then, like someone waking up from a dream, he slowly retrieved the remote from the arm of the couch. He turned on the TV and began watching a food documentary. He didn’t look at either of us.
I followed Derrick into the hallway. Once the door was closed, I started to say something. But his look of utter devastation stopped me.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he whispered.
He was shaking. I hugged him close.
“We’re going to figure it out,” I said.
The Sawbones was packed when we arrived. I hadn’t been to the paranormal bar in quite some time, but tonight, it seemed like the perfect place for Derrick. He didn’t have to worry about violating any minds here. Nobody was going to open their dark, dirty thoughts to him, and some of them didn’t even have what could properly be called “brains,” at least neurologically speaking.
More important, alcohol deadened his powers. Until I could figure out what we might be dealing with, I wanted to keep his ESP as dull as possible. It lessened the chance that we’d have a repeat of his session with Ru.
We sat down at the only remaining table. There was no point in looking at the menu, since I already knew I was going to order the zucchini sticks, in spite of their dubious reputation. I also wanted an ale.
“So, this is how we’re figuring things out?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
“And what are we figuring out, exactly?”
“How to get you drunk.”
“I’m not really sure how that helps.”
“Beer helps everything. Haven’t you learned that?”
He sighed. “I broke into the mind of a child. I made him cry. What kind of a twisted freak does that?”
“He’s older than Angelus. He’s not a child. And that wasn’t you back there. It was something else entirely.”
“You think I’m possessed? Oh, God.” He put his head on the table.
“Not possessed, sweetheart.” I rubbed his hair. “It’s your gears. Something’s out of alignment, that’s all.”
“My soul,” he mumbled. “It’s gone. Replaced by a void.”
“Okay. We’re going to need a pitcher right now. And I don’t mean Miles.” I giggled. “Sorry; that came out before I could stop it. I may already be a little drunk from the air in this place.”
He groaned something incomprehensible in response.
A waitress came over. She had blond hair, and I recognized her, although we hadn’t seen each other in nearly two years. “Hi, Joanie.”
Joanie did a double take. Then she smiled shyly. “Wow, it’s been forever. How’s it going with all your”—she glanced at Derrick, facedown—“stuff?”
“Stuff is stuff. Messy and constant.”
“Kitchen’s closed,” she said. “On account of an incident I’m not supposed to be talking about.”
“Bar pixies?”
She shook her head. “I really can’t talk about it.”
“Gotcha. We’ll have two pitchers of Alexander Keith’s.”
“How many glasses?”
“Three.”
“’Kay. Back in a bit.” Joanie left.
“Why three glasses?”
“What’s that?”
Derrick was staring at me. “Tess. Who else is coming?”
I stared at my BlackBerry. I’d insisted we buy them so the family could keep in contact, but they also worked well as distracting fetish-objects. Really, Miles had been the one to ruin us all, with his device’s seductive messaging features.
“Tess—”
The door to the Sawbones opened. I can’t exactly say that a hush fell over the bar, but those with acute senses definitely felt something. A slight distortion in everyone’s immediate perception, like the ripple I’d seen on the radargrams. It was the feeling of power bending around a heavy element.
Duessa and Wolfie stepped into the bar. Derrick kicked me.
“Ow. Shit.” I glared at him.
“You suck,” he whispered. “And I’ll kick you again before the night’s over. What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?”
“They’re actually nice people, you know.”
“I’m not disputing their niceness. I’m just a bit nervous about the fact that Duessa is a scary immortal. And when Wolfie’s mad, he sets fire to people.”
“Things. Not people.”
“The Iblis?”
“That wasn’t strictly a person.”
They reached the table. Derrick, who was always good for his word, kicked me again underneath the table.
“Duessa.” I smiled. My shin was throbbing. Derrick had worn his chocolate brown Steve Maddens, which had vicious points. “Thanks for coming. It’s good to see both of you again, under more relaxing circumstances.”
Wolfie pulled the chair out for Duessa. “Wouldn’t you all prefer a classier venue? This place is full of wasted thugs and lost souls.”
Duessa took a seat. “Every soul’s got to have someplace to settle for a night. Even if it’s just to get fed.”
“Or laid.” Wolfie sat down. “The necromancers in the back booth are up to no good. I can smell whatever they’re channeling.”
“They’re always here. I barely notice them anymore.” I turned to Duessa. “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit rude, asking you to come without giving you very much info.”
“That’s fine. I live in this neighborhood.” She looked around with a slightly flat expression. “Although I don’t usually come here.”
Joanie came by, setting down two pitchers. She noticed Duessa, and her eyes widened. “Oh—hello.” She curtsied.
“Damn,” Wolfie said. “That was an honest curtsy.”
Duessa smiled at Joanie. “Well, she’s a lady.”
“I can get another glass—”
“It’s fine, honey. I brought my own.” She reached into her handbag and withdrew a stein with a gilded handle.
“That’s gorgeous,” Derrick said.
“I know.” Duessa pulled out a handkerchief and placed it on the table. Then she set the glass on top of it. “A pirate from Kinsale gave it to me. Anne.” She smiled, shaking her head. “Mad, that one.”
“Kitchen’s closed,” Joanie reiterated. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. We ate already.”
Joanie left, heading for the kitchen. I started to say something, but Duessa beat me to it. She looked squarely at Derrick.
“Let’s see your eyes,” she said.
He flinched. “What exactly did she tell you?”
“Just look at me.”
They stared at each other for a moment. It was the opposite of the “conversation” with Ru, when neither had been able to meet the other’s gaze. I felt nothing in the way of power. Duessa seemed to just be looking closely at him.
Then it was over. Duessa grabbed the pitcher and began pouring glasses. “I think we could all use some of this.”
“It’s bad. I knew it was bad.” Derrick sighed. “Maybe there’s a little demon inside my brain. Like that guy fro
m the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles who lived inside the robot’s stomach. Krang.”
I frowned. “But didn’t he build the robot—”
Duessa cleared her throat, cutting me off. “It’s not a case of inside versus outside. That’s too binary. What you’ve got is an impact.”
Derrick frowned. “Like—a car hit my brain?”
“Close. A demon gave you a concussion. Your mind’s wounded, and it’s got to heal before things will get back to normal.”
“Am I dangerous?”
She took a sip of her beer. “It’s not as simple as that.”
I could feel Derrick clamping down on his natural sarcasm. He kept his tone even and polite. “I imagine it isn’t. But is there anything else you can tell me? I don’t want to go brain-snatching at random, you know?”
“It’s not brain-snatching. Not yet.” Duessa patted his hand. “Look. Here’s what happened. You got crosschecked by something old and powerful. Your mind’s a little beat-up. It may do some odd things. Hiccups.”
“I’ve broken into people’s brains,” Derrick said. “First my boyfriend, and now someone who really shouldn’t have any connection to me at all. That’s a bit more than a hiccup. I don’t want to hurt people. At least be honest with me—if you think I need to be locked away, then tell me.”
“Isolation isn’t the answer. If you’re really going to heal, you need good people around you, people who are willing to give you their energy.”
“That sounds like mooching.”
“It is. But it’s the good kind.”
“And you don’t see anything else?”
Duessa sighed. “All right. Think of your mind as a house. Some rooms are open, and some aren’t. When a demon shakes you around, it’s like a storm going right through your house. It can stir things up. It can open doors.”
“I don’t like whatever door it’s opened.”
“That’s tough. If it really is open, then it’s open for good. You’ve got to deal with whatever comes out.”
“We can all help,” I said. “You’re not alone.”
Derrick stared at his glass. “You were right. Beer is the only answer that really makes sense to me right now.”
Wolfie’s phone rang. He looked down at it, then groaned. “It’s the supplier. I’m going to take this outside.”