Blacker than Black

by Rhi Etzweiler

  “If I wanted a pimp, I’d have one.” She taps the prongs of the fork against the porcelain plate, and I abandon any hope of another bite. Jhez possesses a hostile streak that can turn indiscriminate in a heartbeat.

  “I am looking to acquire quality entertainment for a number of distinguished guests I’ll be hosting in the near future.” His gaze falters, flickering down to the pastry Jhez is clinically devouring. “While I must admit that I’ll take advantage of your skill as a Nightwalker, my interests are slightly more complex than that. Which is why I thought the pair of you would suit my needs.”

  Jhez sets the fork down on the table with great care and turns to study me, her gaze flickering over my face. I can almost hear her asking, What did you tell him?

  I shake my head slightly. I didn’t tell him anything.

  Her attention shifts back to Garthelle. I’m glad she isn’t focusing that ocular drill on me this time. “And how, pray tell, did you come to that conclusion?” Her soft, cautious tone almost matches the vampire’s for subliminal hostility.

  “Your experience, for one,” Garthelle admits, leaning back and resting his hands in his lap.

  “What experience? Our prowess as notorious chi-thieves?” She utters the term with a condescending drawl. “Tell me one thing, please. Why now? Why’s what we’ve done all these years suddenly a problem?”

  The vampire hoods his gaze. He probably thinks neither of us notice the sudden flash in the yellow hue of his eyes.

  Jhez rakes the fork across the plate, hacks off another bite of pastry with surgical precision.

  “I did my research. Few Nightwalkers have a period of employment comparable to that which the two of you can boast.” Jhez stiffens, and he waves his hand dismissively. “I’m willing to overlook your rather extensive list of offenses in exchange for cooperation. Though my peers may not agree with my stance, I believe there are more dangerous individuals roaming the streets of my territory.” Is that a hint of dry sarcasm in his voice? I could be mistaken, given how loudly my stomach is growling. Jhez blinks at me with a slight scowl and slides the remnants of the pastry in my direction. “The offer of employment is not so much a matter of prostitution as it is espionage.” Garthelle folds his hands on the Formica table with careful precision.

  I choke on my mouthful of cappuccino and somehow manage not to spray it across the table. My eyes water as I stare at him. “You did not mention anything like that last night.”

  He lifts one shoulder a fraction, but the vampire’s attempt at shrugging is . . . stilted, at best. “It seemed unnecessary.”

  “You want us to spy on your guests and report back to you.”

  The vampire nods. “I need eyes and ears amongst my kin.”

  I haven’t forgotten just how livid he was last night. Or early this morning. A hair’s breadth from obliterating my existence. Why the sudden change? The disparity only sets off my alarms.

  Jhez and I stare at him in silence, unresponsive. Our mutual need for more information from the vamp happens without any side communication. There are things we’re always on the same page about. Dealing with vamps is one of them.

  Finally, Garthelle’s lips twist into a grimace. “The undercurrents in lyche society make the politics of old look like child’s play.”

  We share a glance. Politics equals criminal activity. Some things just don’t change.

  Jhez isn’t the only one experiencing a marked level of discomfort at Garthelle’s word choice. They don’t call themselves vampires like we do. They consider the word offensive for some reason. “And you think that these . . . guests of yours . . . will be careless enough to let information slip in our presence. Sensitive information?”

  “Such is the nature of the beast. Especially under the influence of hallucinogenic substances, an energy thrall can be a highly vulnerable state.”

  “The only result I can see is the endangering of our lives.” My sister has a death grip on her mug. “Careless vampires, substance abuse . . . It’s almost asking to be drained.”

  I share her concern; I’m so tense I can’t swallow. What a waste of perfectly sumptuous caffeine.

  “They will have other avenues to meet that need if it strikes them. You two are unique, oddities. A delicacy to be tasted and passed around. Not gorged on.” Garthelle’s lips twist into a very thin line and he glances at me, a surreptitious flick of his yellow eyes.

  Not gorged on? Really. Presumably a privilege reserved exclusively for you, Monsieur.

  “Unique.” Where does that come from? What does he know? Put on display. That really sticks in my craw. Look at the might of Garthelle, who singlehandedly netted the tag-team chi-thieves of the metro. Given how unhappy the vampire was last night, some of the things he said, I can’t dismiss the possibility of our notoriety. I’m certainly not willing to risk even the slightest chance that my next john will drain me to the dregs out of a sense of vengeance.

  If Jhez notices my discomfort, she doesn’t show it. Still, her laughter has a sharp, cynical edge. “All of your guests will voluntarily show restraint? Pardon me for being skeptical. How can you be so certain of that?”

  The vampire leans forward. “Because I am their host and that’s the way things work in our circles. Guests abide by house rules.”

  He’s revealing more than he wanted. Perhaps it’s the trace of tension in his posture, or the faint lines visible between his brows and at the corners of his eyes that’s keying me into it. He is far from pleased with this arrangement. And yet he is determined to employ it at all costs. I can feel his determination resonating in my veins, like calling to like, that sliver of his chi inside me humming softly. Letting me read him like a book.

  Oh, this could be very useful, after all. It doesn’t explain why I’m still able to feel it, but it’s more insight than I’d have otherwise.

  “And if I accept this offer, what would the compensation involve?” Jhez has a hard edge in her voice. The kind she uses with the street dealers.

  The vampire laces his fingers together, grip knuckle-white for a heartbeat before the tension drains away. Almost as if it hadn’t existed. “Aside from clemency for your crimes? A more convenient residential location. Outside the confines of lyche property, of course. And a salary commensurate with your experience and the nature of your employment.”

  “For how long?” I interject when Jhez hesitates. She glances at me and surrenders the discussion with a cautious sip of her cappuccino, then a longer swallow when it doesn’t burn her. “I mean, surely you don’t expect us to just . . .” I lift one hand from my mug, waving it while attempting to find the best way to word what I’m thinking. “Blindly enter into an open-ended arrangement, do you? That would be asinine,” I add, smiling to take the sting from my words.

  Because judging from the way the vampire blinks and stares at me with a more considering glint in his yellow gaze, I’m not too far off the mark. He truly expected nothing less than ignorant acceptance, an indefinite relationship he could manipulate on a whim.

  “And while I’m asking questions, I’m really curious to know why it is that I didn’t recognize you on the street. I know who you are, knew the moment Muscle escorted me back.”

  Garthelle blinks rapidly. “Muscle? Oh.” One corner of his mouth twitches upward, briefly. “You didn’t recognize me because I didn’t want you to. I fail to see what that has to do with this discussion.”

  “Do you really?” I cant my head, daring to glare at him just a bit. “You didn’t want me to recognize you, so you . . . messed with my head. Just mine, because Jhez sure knew who you were. And you can’t connect the dots?”

  “Black.” She lays a restraining hand on my arm, her touch soothing, aura lacing into mine.

  “No.” I shake her off without breaking the hold I have on Garthelle’s attention, his eyes locked with mine. The vampire scares me shitless, but I’m not willing to back down on this. “If you could do it then, what’s to say you’re not doing it now? How do we know
you’re not deceiving us?”

  “Because it would be unethical of me to sit here negotiating a verbal agreement while employing such tactics.” The vampire’s words are soft, even, measured. “The arrangement will remain in effect until such time as the . . . aural issue . . . between myself and Black is resolved to my satisfaction.”

  Jhez nods. It’s sufficient for her. “If he were manipulating you,” she says, drawing my attention, “he’d have us working for free, right?”

  “I’ve no desire to withhold compensation to which you are entitled,” the vampire assures her with another twitch of a smile.

  “And Black?”

  His brows inch upward. “Has received compensation.”

  Jhez hisses, her entire body stilling as if she wants to leap over the table and strangle the vamp. “You mean the gift of restraint?”

  “You need not concern yourself. We have already come to an acceptable agreement.”

  “Black isn’t your slave, Monsieur Garthelle.” Her exaggerated stress on the title is far from respectful. While I understand and appreciate her concern, I find myself recalling the painful stretch of my neck, the fiery sting in my scalp where the vampire fisted my hair.

  I know he was restraining himself, even then. I’d reminded myself of that, standing in the shower, watching the broken strands of black hair catch and tangle in the drain trap. I don’t want Jhez fueling his wrath.

  “My expectations do not lean in that direction.”

  Her brows draw down, slowly. “Our parameters of employment will be identical.”

  Garthelle props his elbows on the table and folds his arms, laughs softly. I get the impression he’d much rather sit back into the bench, yet doesn’t want to suggest retreat even subliminally. “They are. Rest assured I have no desire to endanger Black’s well-being in any fashion.” His brows lift faintly as he says my name. He pauses, seeming to choose his next words with care as he looks at both of us. “Your safety is of the utmost import to me now. Thus, the offer of alternate residence.” His gaze wanders off across the interior of the shop. “A very quaint and comfortable spot, this, but the area is not at all secure.”

  “And why exactly is it that you’ve taken such an interest?” Jhez voices her query with an edge of uncertainty, hoping to draw more information from a vampire whose generosity has already been expansive.

  I kick her ankle under the table. Hard. She shows no sign of feeling it.

  Garthelle’s indulgent expression bleeds away like so much rainwater through a sewer grate. “That, I’m certain, is completely none of your concern.” He slides from the bench to stand. “A chauffeur will come to retrieve you both tomorrow morning. Any further questions you might have can wait until evening, after you’ve settled in.”

  Jhez stalks down the sidewalk away from the java house. Her gaze is focused on some indeterminate point, and the growing throng of pedestrians veers from her path without encouragement. Obviously they can sense her mood as easily as I.

  The one downfall to learning to manipulate your aura: sometimes you do it without conscious awareness. We walk in silence for a few blocks. I don’t want to disturb her. She seems to be thinking. Or maybe she’s simply fuming, since the notorious Le Gross is now her employer. Thanks to yours truly, no less. Well, not really, but I’ve no doubt she sees it that way. I know I would. It’s always easier when there’s someone else to blame.

  “Whatever you did, I hope it wears off really soon,” she snarls.

  “That makes three of us, I’m sure.” I keep my tone mild while perusing the random shop windows we pass. Not that the fading of this forged link will change the fact that apparently, in vampire circles, she and I are notorious criminals.

  Her pace slows to something more reasonable. “How strong is the pull?” She softens her tone, almost a whisper.

  I shrug. “It hasn’t weakened at all.”

  She mutters a string of colorful phrases under her breath. “And what do you intend to do if it doesn’t?” I stop walking and stare at her back until she turns to meet my gaze from a few paces away. “It logically follows, dear twin.” Even so, her blunt query makes the plausibility of such a situation all too real, and I don’t like it.

  I start walking again. “It will.”

  “Have you considered,” she whispers, “that he sought you out specifically so that this would happen? So that he could blackmail us into working for him?”

  My eyes widen but I resist the urge to look at her. “That would explain why he went through the trouble to ensure I wouldn’t recognize him.”

  “We don’t know half of what they’re capable of doing.”

  She’s all too correct. For all I know, whatever it is that’s going on between me and the vampire is not at all a result of my miscalculation. The whole situation reeks of entrapment. I’ve never before had any sort of connection like this with a john. And if Garthelle hadn’t been so ravenous, I might’ve not even bothered tapping into him.

  “Something’s rotten in Denmark,” I mutter, staring at the sidewalk as it scrolls past beneath my feet. The cracks are crammed with ragged little weeds and random chunks of trash.

  “It’s not the fish.” Beside me, Jhez resumes her intent study of nothing.

  The chauffeur is a mute presence on the drive to our new accommodations. It’s no different than the other times I’ve been in this limousine. Even Muscle is present, a monolith, no doubt to protect Garthelle’s interests. I suddenly wonder if the vampire has a link with the man that permits him to see and hear everything.

  The prospect, though preposterous and illogical, keeps my lips sealed shut. Jhez must have similar suspicions because she’s quiet for the entire trip as well. She throws a few narrow-eyed glares at Muscle, but they seem to bounce off the man.

  I don’t need to find something to occupy my thoughts, though; the tension in my chest is persistent. I hope the vampire fights this same annoyingly insane craving for proximity, suffers the same intensity that I do.

  As the vehicle slows, I peer through the tinted window and poke at the easing tension in my chest. Still uncomfortable, but not nearly so bad. Perhaps that was his prime instigation in relocating us; a lesser distance from his flat would increase his comfort level. And mine, to some degree. But I doubt our comfort played a role, aside from the leverage it gave in negotiating.

  When the chauffeur opens the door, I step out onto the sidewalk and turn to look up at the looming structure. An apartment complex in a very upscale, quiet area of the metro. Nicer than anything Jhez and I have seen since our childhood home. No debris gathered along the leeward side of the alleys. No weeds thrusting up through the grooves in the concrete. No graffiti murals adding a splash of color and life. It feels almost . . . sterile.

  Movement from up the walk snags my eye and I discover why the tension I feel has lessened.

  Garthelle is here. His gaze holds mine as he halts a few paces away. “Good morning, Jhez.” My sister nudges me with her shoulder and I sidle away from the door.

  “Garthelle.” She doesn’t sound happy at all. “I wasn’t expecting you to meet us.”

  A faint smile curves his lips but his attention doesn’t waver from mine. I can’t look away and I don’t understand why. Part of me wants to, desperately, in a vain hope of breaking his pull on me.

  The vampire’s nostrils flare slightly, and at last, his gaze diverts. “I’m the one with the key. And I thought it would only be appropriate for me to show you around.”

  Both excuses, just that. I can feel the frailty of the truth in his words as I stare at him, energy thrumming in my veins.

  Jhez grunts and shoves my duffel bag against my chest. I grab it reflexively, blinking at her, and all she does is frown.

  I can’t possibly begin to explain to her what my problem is. With a shrug, I follow after Garthelle. Though the security measures are nothing like the ones in the building where his flat is, there’s a manned desk. The uniformed guard nods to Garthelle when he wa
lks past to the lifts.

  On the second floor, he navigates the corridor with a fluid stride, trench coat swirling and billowing in his wake, and I ponder what the nature of his job is within the vampire community. Um, lyche community. His lithe grace reminds me of some exotic predator. I can’t think of a single vampire that doesn’t possess a similar quality to some degree. But something feels different with him. More . . . saturated? I tilt my head a fraction, slowing my pace, to watch his movements more closely. Ingrained.

  Jhez bumps into my back, mutters something, and shoulders me as she walks past. Her aura tangles with mine along the edges, concerned, confused. But still very, very irritated with this unexpected, and unwanted, turn of events.

  Garthelle stops before a door along the outer edge of the edifice; the large panes of glass in the nearby wall are tinted, and the morning sun creates an eerie halo around his silhouette. After unlocking the door, he pushes it open and stands aside, motioning for Jhez to precede him with a stiff, fleeting smile. Jhez scowls in response before stalking into the flat.

  Garthelle catches my gaze as I follow and his yellow eyes make my stride falter. There is something toxic in his attitude, a residue I recall too vividly from that first evening. His words start to filter through my head. He thinks us criminals. And yet, I’m almost totally convinced he set out to manipulate us into this situation.

  I just can’t figure out why.

  The next john will drain you dry.

  Is it possible the vampires of the metro are that angry about our wealth of “crimes”? I find that hard to believe. Jhez and I, we’ve been doing this for years now. Close to two decades. And this is the first hint of even so much as a whisper that what we do is theft. Hell, I have some regulars that come find me at least once a month. And I pull the same stunt with them every time.

  He fiddles with the key, long fingers flipping it incessantly. Finally he extends the ring to me. “Two copies, one for each of you.”