He started to say something, but changed his mind and closed his mouth. He reached out for my hand, and I gave it to him. While he spoke, he toyed with my fingers—and his were warm, meaning he’d recently fed. That must’ve been what he’d been up to when Domino took the message.
“Raylene, you’ve been so wonderfully kind to me these last few months,” he began, which sounded like the start of a breakup conversation, and I didn’t like it one bit. “You’ve given me a House again, which is something I hadn’t had in years. You’ve given me a home.”
“I’m pretty sure it was at least partly my fault that you lost your last home.”
“Not at all. It would’ve come crashing down around my ears one way or another, and this way I was lucky enough to have help picking up the pieces. I’m very glad I hired you last year, and I’m glad you took the case. I’m glad that you’re my friend,” he added, hesitating just a hitch at the last word. He stopped playing with my fingers and just held them. “But you can’t protect me forever. I don’t even want you to try.”
I pulled my hand away. “Stop talking like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re dying—or like you’re gearing yourself up to go wandering into the sunrise.”
“Raylene—”
“No, it’s bullshit!” I declared far more loudly than I should have. I stood up and walked away from him, then came back like a tetherball. “First of all, I’m not keeping you here like some goddamn pet. You’re part of this …” Of this what? This family? Is that what we were? “Household,” I concluded, because it was safer. “And sure, you have some … some special needs, but so do I. So do those kids out there. We’re a commune of gimps here, Ian. And we look after each other, because nobody else will!”
“Raylene …”
“No, don’t you use that Mr. Calm-and-Reasonable voice. It won’t work!” I announced, which sounded like something a twelve-year-old would say, and I loathed myself for it. “You’re trying to do something noble and stupid; you’re going to tell me that you’re leaving, for my own good. Aren’t you?” When he didn’t answer right away, I pushed harder. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
He sighed. “You aren’t wrong, but I’m still right. I do need to leave. If I don’t, I’ll put the whole … household”—he used my word—“in danger. You know it as well as I do.”
“Fuck that. We’re all in danger all the time, anyway. Those kids are one loitering offense away from being yanked off to a foster home. I’m one satellite snapshot away from being picked up by that psycho ghoul in Silicon Valley. Adrian is one drunk SEAL’s glimpse of recognition away from a court-martial.”
“This is more concrete than that. More pressing,” he argued.
“Really? If anyone in California had any means of chasing you this far, someone would’ve nabbed you months ago. It would’ve happened when you were hiding in Ballard on a boat, or it would’ve happened while Adrian and I were tying up loose ends last winter. It would’ve happened by now.”
“What can I say to make you understand?”
“Say you’ll drop this. Say we can pretend you never said anything, and this conversation never happened. Everything will go back to being fine and you’re not going anywhere; that’s what you should say.”
He insisted, quietly but firmly, “I have an obligation to them. It is a matter of personal honor that I return now that they’ve summoned me.”
“But that’s bullshit!” I shouted, and somewhere in the back of my brain I was aware that things had gone quiet in the living area, but that didn’t slow me down. “You’ve been running and hiding from these fuckers for years. Now you’re telling me that all they had to do was run your name up a flagpole and you’d salute?”
“This isn’t like that. This is a power vacuum, one that I am obligated to address whether I like it or not. I accepted my position in that House, and with that position I accepted certain responsibilities. Those responsibilities didn’t end when I left. When I was taken.”
Sounded like a load of baloney to me, but I’d already said as much. I tried another tactic. “Let me ask you, do you even know for a fact that the judge has died? What if it isn’t true, Ian? What if this is just another ploy to lure you back—to call you out?”
“Why would they lie?” he asked, but he didn’t ask it with much conviction. I’d actually given him something to think about, which was a minor victory if only paltry relief.
“Because they’re crooked, power-hungry, and fucked-up. Go on and tell me I’m wrong.”
“You aren’t wrong. Not in that particular assessment.”
“Thank you for that one ounce of credit,” I fumed.
“Listen, it’s true that I haven’t personally touched the corpse of William Renner; you’ve got me there. But the House has always been contentious, and he was never very well liked. It was only a matter of time and opportunity before he was ousted—and now that day of reckoning has arrived. Or so I assume.”
“You assume. You’d walk right into a trap over an assumption?”
He was getting frustrated with me, and that was fine. I was well beyond frustrated with him, so if he wanted to be bitchy, I didn’t give a damn. “If Renner is dead, then the House is vulnerable until it elects a new judge. And I was the next in line, so they can’t very well elect me when I’m living here, now can they?”
“And what do you care?” I asked, which was a bigger question than I’d realized until it came out of my mouth. Because he did care, that much was obvious. And he shouldn’t care; that much was equally obvious.
There was something he wasn’t telling me.
“Familial duty?” He had the good sense to add a question mark.
“Who?”
“What?”
“Who, Ian. Who are you trying to protect down there?”
“You’re reading too far—”
“Oh, knock it off. It’s the only thing that makes sense—you wanting to protect someone. And I want to know who. I deserve to know who, if you’re going to walk out over this.”
He turned his face away, unwilling to even pretend he was looking at me. “A son,” he breathed. He said it so gently, I barely heard it.
“What kind of son? Vampire son, or bio-son?”
Still barely speaking in a whisper, he replied, “Vampire son. His name is Brendan. He’s next in line after me and my brother, and Maximilian will take his frustration out on him if I don’t return.”
Hm. A blood-son. Ian had never mentioned such a person before, but obviously he was rather deeply invested in protecting him, so I tried not to let it hurt my feelings that this was the first I was hearing of it.
I asked, “Could Brendan run the House? Or is he weak?”
“He’s … not weak. And if anything, I think he’d be a very good judge. But I don’t think he’s strong enough to seize the position, whether or not he’s savvy enough to hold it. Maximilian is certainly more determined to fill the seat—and it sounds like he’s planning to do so, one way or another. I need to make contact with Brendan,” he said, pleading now. Begging me, or negotiating with me—even though there was no chance in hell of me holding him against his will, or even stopping him if he’d made up his mind. I should’ve been flattered, but I was horrified. “I might be able to help him, to counsel him. I may be able to give him the boost he needs to take the leadership position or, I should hope, keep him from getting killed. He doesn’t know Maximilian like I do. He doesn’t know what he’s capable of.”
“You’ve been gone now, how long—ten years or so? You think in all that time, this son of yours hasn’t climbed the learning curve enough to stand on his own two feet? You don’t give him much credit.”
A look of pure anger flashed across his face and was gone in an instant. But whether it’d appeared because I was right, or because I was insensitive, I couldn’t say. Both, maybe. He replied, “I give him all the credit in the world, for a young man I abandoned to his own devices in the middle of that treacherous fa
mily.”
“I was pretty sure you were kidnapped.”
“But I could’ve returned. I could’ve been there for him, at a distance if not in person. I could have … could have …” And finally we’d reached the crux of the matter: Ian’s unholy capacity for guilt. I was about to comment on it when he continued, “I should’ve contacted him privately, once I’d escaped. I should’ve sent for him, removed him from that snare of a House. But I was ashamed, and I was frightened that he might be intercepted somehow. I was afraid that I’d put us both in jeopardy if I reached out to him for help.”
“You think he would’ve come?”
“I know he would have come. I stayed away for his own protection, you see.”
Yes, I did see. It wasn’t just that Ian felt an obligation; it was that he felt an opportunity to reconnect without putting his “son” in any deeper danger than the kid was already in. I am embarrassed to admit that the jealousy felt like heartburn, clawing up my chest.
“All right,” I said, calming myself down by force. Nobody wins by being the jealous bitch. I know that the hard way. “All right. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”
“How is this—”
“You’re talking about walking out of here on the basis of a rumor, and I’m talking about taking a deep breath and giving this some investigatory attention before you do anything rash.”
“Investigatory attention?”
“Yes.” The idea had sprung into my head fully formed—a reverse-Athena, ready to raise hell. “I want you to go unpack your suitcase”—I was pretty sure he’d already packed a suitcase, don’t ask me why—“and then come back and tell me everything you know about this House—even the stuff that might be out of date. You’re also going to tell me everything about this Brendan guy, and your brother.”
“I don’t think I like what you’re getting at.”
“You can’t possibly dislike it more than I dislike the idea of you dashing off into California like the fucking cavalry.” When you can’t even see, I wanted to add, but didn’t. No sense in pointing out the obvious. “Here’s what I’m thinking …” And this is the part where I started winging it. “For starters, I’ll go down to California and check things out.”
“What?”
“I’m not trying to cramp your style or anything, but in all objective reality, I can get down there and back faster and with greater ease than you can.”
“Raylene—”
“Just give me a few days,” I pleaded. “Time to go down there and poke around. There’s no real risk—hell, I could even go about it all formal-like, and it shouldn’t be a problem.”
He said, “But you don’t have a House. You’re unaffiliated, and there’s no one to vouch for you.”
“So? San Francisco and my old House in Chicago aren’t exactly best friends. I could probably show up and tell San Fran the truth, and make up some excuse for my presence. Nobody would bother me, I bet.” I didn’t have any intention of actually doing this, of course, but it was the kind of thing that might make him feel better.
“It’s a bad idea.”
“Not as bad as you marching down there and stampeding into harm’s way. And alone, too. You were going to go alone, weren’t you?”
“I was planning on it, yes.”
“No ghoul or anything?”
He folded his arms. “I told you, I still have friends. I could acquire a helper or a ghoul quickly, upon arrival.” This meant he’d been making plans and phone calls behind my back. For how long? I had no clue, and he probably wouldn’t tell me, no matter how hard I badgered him. Call that a hunch.
“Good for you. But I still hate it, won’t stand for it, and will attempt to actively impede you for your own good.”
Pepper and Domino nudged the bedroom door, and it opened far enough to show both of their faces. They gazed at us worriedly, the veritable picture of, “Mom, Dad, stop fighting!”
I cleared my throat. “Hey, um, you two.”
Domino was holding Pita, who squirmed until he was allowed to sit on the boy’s shoulder. Pepper leaned into the room and asked, “Ian? Are you leaving us?”
She couldn’t have possibly calculated a question more likely to inspire guilt and self-hatred in the pair of us. And it might’ve been calculated, for all I knew. The kid has always been a master manipulator. Or maybe she was only a little girl who’d found some semblance of stability for the first time in her short life, and she was watching its foundations crack beneath her feet.
In short, that kid did in five words what I’d attempted in ten minutes of hollering. She drove him to silence, and to something like contrition.
His only defense was to say, “I … well, I was thinking about taking a trip, that’s all. To California. I was going to visit someone.” It was a chickenshit way of spinning the truth. “I’d think you’d be thrilled with the idea—having no one around to bother you about your math skills for a few days.”
Oh no he didn’t. He wasn’t getting off the hook that easy.
I said, “He was going to take a very dangerous trip to California, yes. But I think I’ve convinced him to stay home with you guys while I go check things out.”
He glared at me with his silver, unseeing eyes. Actually he glared at a spot just to the left of my head, but hey. I give him an E for Effort. He set his jaw and said, “Raylene has offered to do this, yes. But it’s not a smart idea.”
Domino grasped the situation, and was kind enough to be on my side. “It’s a better idea than you going down there, ain’t it? Were you going to go by yourself? I’d go too, if you needed me. But you didn’t even ask.”
This was possibly the sweetest thing I’d ever heard the boy say, but now was not the time to pat his head over it. I didn’t even look at him. I made sure we were all three ganging up on the blind guy, who lived with the world’s guiltiest conscience.
And a few secrets, obviously.
Deeply buried secrets, and therefore dangerous ones. I filed this information away and resolved to consult it later, in the event that I began assuming I knew everything about everyone under my roof.
“Thank you, Domino,” Ian said. “That’s a very kind and generous offer, but I did not ask for your help because I did not want to invite you into any danger. Raylene is right. It’s a risky trip. And I suppose she’s furthermore right that it would be smart for someone else to investigate the situation before I enter it. But this is a time-sensitive matter,” he said directly to me. “I have a … someone I care about, in San Francisco, and I need to make sure that he’s safe.”
“Your son?” Pepper asked. Of course she asked. She has ears like a fennec fox.
“Yes, dear. He’s not my child, exactly. I’m a different kind of father to him.”
Either the sensitivity of the topic eluded her or she ignored it. “You made him a vampire?”
“Yes, that’s what happened. He is in danger.”
I was quick to note, “But Ian will be in worse danger if he gets too heroic. So it’s settled then!” I clapped my hands in a gesture of, “Hurrah, we all agree!”
“Settled?” He frowned. Hard.
“Yes, settled. I’m fresh off a case that didn’t pan out, and nothing else is on deck. I can take some time to bop around San Francisco, no problem. I’ll head down there tomorrow night and sort the whole thing out. Ian can hang around here and look after you two for a few days by himself, I assume.” After all, he’d been alone with them for the past twenty-four hours.
I stood up and walked to the kids, plucking Pita off Domino’s shoulder and giving him a squeeze. “Great. Then I’ll open a bottle of wine, we’ll all settle in for the night, and Ian, you can fill me in. Don’t leave anything out,” I admonished as I strolled into the living area. Over my shoulder I called, “I want to know everything.”
And I did. Kind of.
5
I asked Adrian if he wanted to come with me, which was probably dumb, but at the last minute I started having
second thoughts about going it alone. I didn’t tell Ian. I didn’t want to worry him, or to give him one more thing to gripe at me about.
Ian was a giant tight-lipped douche during my interrogation—I mean, during my attempts to learn more about the situation into which I was about to walk. But by the time we were done, I had what amounted to a dossier on the Renner family and all their known associates. Sure, it was almost a decade out of date—updated in bits and pieces, as he’d cobbled pieces of gossip over the years. I marked these pieces of gossip with an asterisk when I wrote them down. I needed to remind myself they weren’t set in stone.
Adrian was gung-ho to accompany me on the expedition until he remembered he’d have to take a week off work. Then he talked me into paying him for his time. I’d just write it off on my taxes as bodyguard work. If I paid taxes. Which I tend not to.
He wouldn’t be guarding anyone, anyway, but he was one of the only mortals I knew who was tough enough to come close to keeping up with me. For that matter, he was one of the only people I knew, period. And I didn’t feel like doing too much self-analysis with regard to why I wanted his company.
I’d spent a full human lifetime working alone. What had changed? I didn’t get it.
Maybe I was just as pathetic as Pepper, suddenly feeling my sense of security threatened. It was fragile enough, and new enough, without the impending threat of Ian leaving us to stress us all further. We’d only had our weird little collective for about six months; before that, everything had been utterly upended. Building a cocoon of safety is a lengthy and terrible process. I hate doing it, and I didn’t want to do it again anytime soon.
Like I said, I fear change. I fear it more than pain or death. And I fight it with every weapon at my disposal, every time it happens.
Adrian was one of my weapons now: a fist of inertia, helping me hold things together. He was also a potential liability, and I knew that, and I decided I didn’t care. He was a big boy; he could make his own decisions. I wasn’t forcing him to tag along. He was doing this of his own free will.
I picked him up from work on my way out of town. He’d already changed into dude-wear, which meant he was already fending off the guys from Cuffs, down the street.
Hellbent Page 8
