Downside Rain: Downside book one

by Linda Welch

  Imagining Alain’s expression if anyone called him that to his face, I guffaw. Urbane Alain Sauvageau a hoodlum? Perish the thought! The word conjures images of young thugs who mug people for their wallets, while Alain is in a different league.

  My chortling miffs River. “You tell me the guy sends for you, you don’t say no or he’ll have you taken to him - what am I supposed to think?”

  “Sorry, hoodlum doesn’t do him justice.” I sober. “Now, if you’d said crime baron, you’d be nearer the truth. Alain should always be taken seriously.” Even though I pretend not to. “I hear he’s ruthless in his business dealings and rumor says those who cross him tend to disappear.”

  My thoughts turn inward. I can’t believe Alain is as black as he’s painted and am inexplicably drawn to the man in ways which transcend purely physical attraction.

  River’s lips are tight and white. “I’m going with you.”

  I should keep my mouth shut, because every word from it makes River edgier. “I’m in no danger from Alain!” I splutter, probably too vehemently. “I’m not that important. And he’s always been fine with me.” If fine translates to suave, seductive and oh-so tempting.

  His mouth is still grim, but after eyeing me for a moment he agrees. “If you say so.”

  If there is a threat, it’s to my libido, not my life, but River doesn’t need to know that.

  He moves to the window and kneels. Back muscles ripple as he rests his arms on the windowsill and looks out. The neon colors flickering over his hair and skin like a kaleidoscope fascinate me.

  I sit on the bed, open the envelopes and, stunned, let the notes fall on the sheets. “Gods almighty!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” I croon, fanning a wad of notes with my thumb. There are a lot of them. “Alain paid oodles more than my standard fee and Verity has been generous.”

  I count, and divide the money into two piles. “This is yours.”

  River looks over his shoulder at the notes I wave at him. “What’s it for?”

  “You helped bring Verity home. You earned it.”

  He shifts on his knees to eye the money. “What do I do with it?”

  “Get an apartment. This should take care of rent for a couple of months, plus enough for necessities.” I slip off the bed. “But first things first. You need more than the clothes on your back.” And I can restock my clothes cube.

  We spend a mere half-hour shopping for clothes. Shopping for a guy is much easier than accompanying Angelina. River checks sizes, takes a few shirts off a rack, two pairs of jeans, socks and underwear, and he’s done. As I wear boy sizes, I pick up T-shirts and jeans in the same shops. I let River wait outside while I get new underwear in Lavender and Lace. We stop off at Bouchiere where I find a black shin-length leather coat with deep pockets and calf-high leather boots, and River gets brown leather ankle boots with steel toes.

  We return to the apartment to the sound of the phone ringing.

  The man identifies himself as Franco Tipola who owns and manages an apartment complex on the west side, across the river. He has a pixie hive in his attic and wants me to get rid of the inhabitants. “I can make two apartments out of that space.”

  “How big is the hive?”

  “Oh, about four by three.”

  I agree to look at the hive tomorrow and note down his address. Although I’m flush with cash, I daren’t turn down a job or word will get abroad and clients will go to other agencies for solutions to their problems. But as I hang up, I’m apprehensive. Is taking another job now prudent? The hellion, the shifter, Castle’s death - is this another trap?

  But I can’t hide in the apartment for the rest of my life.

  I look at the dark-red sky. Night will soon fall on the city. I’d best get along to Alain’s house.

  “Will you be all right while I see Sauvageau?”

  River looks up from his new clothes, which he folds on the bed. “I can still come with you.”

  I make a wry face. “He knows you’re here. If he wanted both of us, he’d say. Better I go alone.”

  I picture Alain’s face in my mind’s eye, his concern at The Station. Closing my eyes, I try to conjure up the feel of his lips on mine. I remember the comfort of his arms as he held me in Castle’s house. I called, and he came.

  No, I don’t want River along.

  Chapter Twelve

  The route we follow is all but deserted as Castle and I head to the Peralta enclave. The sky, like a dark sponge, holds rain again and gloom covers everything. The street lamps and shop signs look dimmer. I bunch my shoulders against the damp air creeping under my collar.

  I stop before we reach the compound. “Castle, do me a favor, wait outside.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll distract me.”

  “I’ll stand in a corner like a good little ghost and keep my trap shut. You won’t know I’m there.”

  “Please.”

  “Nah. You need me to protect you from the big bad vampires.”

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  Castle scratches his head. “No idea.” His hand freezes on his scalp as he peers at me. “You and the dude don’t have a thing, do you? That’s why you don’t want me with you?”

  My eyebrows pop up. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Then why does he only ask for you, not both of us? Or did before I died.”

  “Fine time to ask, after how long? Couldn’t be because you insulted him?”

  Nose in the air, he joins his hands behind his back. “I don’t recall.”

  “Your snide little remarks?” I twitch with frustration. “Jeez, Castle.”

  He sniffs. “You can’t trust a vampire.”

  “He’s not a vampire.”

  “Not like his pals, no, but he’s a vampire.” He sounds serious. “Not all vampires suck blood.”

  The vampire on duty is new to me. This one is polite, respectful even; he greets me by name and doesn’t frisk me. I cross the courtyard quickly as the gargoyles hiss from above.

  Capucine is back to her normal pleasant self and gives me a stony look. She wears a pink leotard tonight, her ash-blond hair pulled up in a tail on top of her head and flowing down her back. She reminds me of a high-stepping mare swishing her mane as she struts through the house, especially with those high heels clipping over the tiled floor. I doubt she’d appreciate the comparison.

  She takes me to Alain’s den. Alain, looking gorgeous in a mustard-colored silk suit and open-necked beige shirt, waits in the middle of the room near a small table laid for dinner and two chairs. He pulls out a chair. “Rain, will you share a meal with me?”

  Seriously? “You demanded I come here to eat?”

  I swing an arc and head for the door. “Call me when you have something on Castle’s murder.”

  His hand on my arm stops me in my tracks. “I asked you here,” he amends, as though he actually gave me a choice. “We should talk, and why not over a meal?”

  I stiffen at his touch. “Talk about what?”

  “Please, Rain, dine with me.”

  I humph through my nose before looking at him. Eyes dark and solemn, hand still trapping me, he sweeps the other hand at the chair.

  What the hell, why not? I don’t often indulge in really good food. I let him lead me to the table, sit, and he takes the facing chair.

  A candle glows and flickers in a slender china centerpiece. Heavy silverware and crystal stemware flank fine white porcelain dishes. A pretty white-haired vampire who wears a long cream-colored tabard over powder-blue shirt and hose pushes a cart which carries a large covered tureen on top and a tray with small glass bowls on the lower shelf. I stare because I have never seen one of Alain’s vampires in period clothing, and the lad has nice calves. He bows to Alain and reaches for the tureen, but Alain tersely waves him off.

  The young vampire leaves without a word. Alain takes a bottle from an ice bucket and presents it to me. “Wine?”
<
br />   “Thank you.”

  He pours for us and raises his glass. “To life.”

  “To life,” I echo, remembering how Castle died.

  I down a generous mouthful. He reaches over the table and tops up my glass.

  I stare into the pale liquid. “Thanks for coming to Castle’s when I called,” and dry swallow. “I shouldn’t have involved you.”

  “Nobody apart from my people know I was at Castle’s house.” His nails ping the glass, making me look up. “I will always come at your call, Rain.”

  The gentle, sincere tone and the look in his eyes shame me after I almost bit off his head. Heat flushes through me and I drop my gaze to the table.

  Alain uncovers the tureen and ladles large portions of its contents on our dishes. Steam wafts up to bathe my face as I inhale a savory aroma. Chicken thighs, the meat falling off the bones, tiny cauliflower florets, minced onion and sliced olives, cooked in a thin yellow sauce and served over white rice. I fork up a mouthful. The chicken all but dissolves in my mouth, the combination of vegetables, olives, rice, lemon sauce, cardamom and cumin conjure a blissful smile as I swallow.

  “This is glorious, Alain.”

  He smiles. “I’ll tell my chef. He will be gratified it meets with your approval.”

  Like the chef cares one way or another if a wraith likes his food.

  Alain nibbles a floret, eating with deliberation, yet I get the feeling he’s not interested in the food. With the meal half-eaten, he puts down his fork, supports his chin on tented hands and eyes me thoughtfully.

  My fork hovers at my mouth. “What?”

  “Finish your meal. We’ll talk later.”

  “I didn’t come so you can watch me eat.” I rest the fork on the side of the plate.

  His left eyebrow arcs up, he picks up his fork and stabs a piece of chicken. I don’t look at him again as I finish, but apprehension tightens my chest. Alain wants more than to dine with me. He has something on his mind.

  He stacks our plates on the cart and brings the tray to the table. It carries two bowls of plump, red, perfectly ripe strawberries and two bowls of cinnamon and sugar. He moistens a strawberry by putting it in his mouth, dipping it in his bowl of sugar mixture and eating the whole thing in one bite.

  I force down a strawberry to be polite but am too on edge to eat the rest. I wish he’d get to the point.

  Alain clears the dishes, sits back in his chair, folds his hands over his waist and considers me.

  Here it comes.

  “Thank you for bringing Verity home.”

  My nose wrinkles. “It was an assignment. You paid me.”

  “I can still thank you, can I not?”

  “And I had help,” I add.

  His hands part, he places them palm down on the table and sits up straighter. “The new wraith. He’s the reason I asked you to come.”

  “River?” What now?

  His lips compress. His gaze rests heavily on me for a long moment before he says, “Is it not convenient he lingered near the Greché house when you arrived? And Verity says his demeanor was inexplicably … composed, accepting of all you told him. You were terrified when Castle brought you Downside.”

  I skip over that he knows my state of mind when I first arrived. He must have learned it from someone else, or naturally knows how difficult a wraith finds their unexplainable waking Upside and introduction to Downside, because I didn’t meet him till a week later and we said little at the time. “He was there a while before I found… .” I pause. A peculiar, uneasy feeling settles in my stomach.

  I didn’t find River, he found me.

  “Before we met,” I continue. “Some of us get it together faster than others.”

  “And he didn’t hesitate to come Downside.”

  I lean back in the chair. “He positively did hesitate. I thought I’d have to use force to get him here.” My mouth thins. “What do you mean, convenient?”

  He stares at me. “He could work for the Greché.”

  My fingers grip the wineglass’ stem. “A wraith, working for vampires?”

  “You work for me.”

  “You’re not a vampire.”

  “But my people are. Their interests are mine.” He looks down from beneath lowered lids and smoothes the tablecloth with two fingers. “That a wraith would gravitate to the solitary creatures who make him … full-bodied … after waking Upside is not a stretch of the imagination.”

  It clicks. “He’s a plant?” I place the glass on the table, hold on to the chair-arms and lean in. “No, it doesn’t make sense. The Greché didn’t know I was coming for Verity, so how could they put him in place?”

  “Perhaps he acted on impulse, saw an opportunity and took it.”

  “An opportunity for what? Get Downside? If he knew about Downside he didn’t have to wait for me to bring him, the Station Master would have let in a wraith. Hell, if I want - which I don’t - I can go between Upside and Downside without the Station Master knowing. River could do the same.”

  Alain’s hands flip apart. “Yet now he’s on friendly terms with the Peralta family.”

  “So when he saw me and Verity lighting out of there, he jumped at the chance to come Downside and try to discover what the Peralta plan to do next? But you’re not thinking it through.” Which is unusual for Alain. “He’d fight us, not them, if he worked for them. He helped us escape.”

  “A charade.”

  “You weren’t there, you didn’t see him rip into them. Ask Verity,” I say with finality. I have had enough of this conversation.

  Alain isn’t finished. “There is an alternative. He’s not new. He’s a Downsider. Elder vampires are far-thinking and cunning, their lifespan allows them to initiate plans which won’t come to fruition for decades. When the Greché went Upside, Gervaise knew the day would come when his family needed new blood. He probably set this in motion before he took his family away.” He spreads his hands. “The former Station Master is a Greché agent - how many more are here?”

  His reasoning is flawed. “River would already be registered, the City - ”

  Alain cuts in. “He’s a wraith. As you said, you can come and go Upside unseen.”

  Against my will, I run the possibility through my mind. Though I blurted it at Alain to make a point, remaining fleshless all the way into and through The Station and continuing in the right direction to get through the doors would be an incredible feat. If River did manage it, what next? Cohorts waiting Upside with clothing? River lingering outside the Greché mansion?

  Clammy fingers walk up my spine. Improbable, but as anyone who lives Downside will attest, nothing is impossible. Is River’s ignorance of all things Downside and inability to control his physicality an act?

  The evening, along with my mood, has soured.

  Disturbed and a little angry, I start up from the chair, and sink back down. Alain’s ideas about River are far-fetched, but concern for what happened to Verity makes him suspect anything out of the ordinary and River falls in that category. I can’t blame him for wanting to protect the Peralta.

  “The Greché believe the Peralta will retaliate. Advance warning of what form it will take would be invaluable,” Alain adds.

  “What will happen with the Greché?” I watch my fingers make invisible shapes on the tablecloth.

  “Nothing. The Peralta won’t start a war to avenge one woman, the effects of which could devastate both families, not when she’s safe.”

  “Intent wasn’t enough? They meant to kill her.”

  “They have forfeited the opportunity to replenish their bloodline. They are barred from Downside. It’s enough.” Alain toothes his lower lip as he rubs his chin. “You should think about that young man and be cautious around him.”

  He stands, comes around the table, bends to take my hand and press the back to his mouth. He murmurs, “You could stay, where I can protect you.”

  I rise to my feet, hand tingling from the touch of his lips. He straightens his spine
and looks down into my eyes. For a moment I settle into his gaze. Giving in will be so easy.

  “I need you safe, Rain,” he says. “I need you.”

  “Keep it in your pants, Sauvageau.”

  A glimmer of a smile. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  My brow creases. “Know what?”

  “How my heart pounds when you are near.”

  I give him an acid look. “Sure I do.”

  He works a muscle in his jaw. To my surprise, anger sparks in his eyes.

  I free my hand but the feel of his lips lingers on my skin. Now his eyes hold nothing but yearning.

  “Rain, I know what you believe of me, but there is a difference between lust and desire. I desire you more than any woman I have known.”

  I forget to breathe. And when he cups his palms to my cheeks, dips his head and kisses me, I do something utterly foolish. I kiss him back.

  Until now, Castle is the only man I have kissed and only when we had sex. It was fierce and frantic, and sometimes kind of funny when delight made us laugh against each other’s lips.

  This is nothing like kissing Castle. Alain … Alain’s mouth drawing on mine is hot, urgent, demanding. My knees are so weak, my legs tremble, my stomach clenches and my body thrums as blood tingles through my veins. I’m surprised my nipples aren’t gouging holes in his shirt.

  He moans against my lips, holding so tightly a hair can’t come between us, as though our clothes and the flesh beneath are fused together. His hands cup my buttocks and press me to him, and he swells against me. Heat explodes low in my belly and rushes through me like a storm-swollen river, spreading to every extremity until I pulse and tingle.

  I resent the voice of sanity which says perhaps, at this moment, his words and tone, the look in his eyes, the savage passion is genuine, just as it was when he spoke of desire to former lovers before he tossed them aside.

  You’re nothing like those long-limbed princesses, the steely inner voice continues relentlessly. You’re a wraith, you can count on one hand the number of people who don’t cringe at your touch. Alain’s only interest is getting you in his bed. Is he so jaded he craves novelty, why else could he want you? He’s good with sweet talk, I bet he’s had masses of practice, but don’t you fall for it. You and Castle used each other to satisfy a need but with an underpinning of affection. Don’t be an occasional lay for Alain Sauvageau.