by Cori Vidae
He didn’t sleep that night; after a good feeding, he didn’t need rest for days. Instead, he kept his solitary vigil over Kiki’s apartment complex. He hadn’t seen her safely home earlier out of friendship; his job in this deal was to act as her bodyguard.
“Kiki’s not involved in the deal. She never is,” Azrulbey said. “But she needs to be happy, healthy, and blissfully ignorant. Watch her. Protect her. If she’s harmed, I’ll reinstate your bounty.”
Benji thought of returning home after six decades of running and squared his shoulders. No one would lay a finger on Kiki. He’d kill anyone who tried.
The night passed quietly. At four a.m., he showered, shaved, and pulled on a fresh Hawaiian shirt and khakis. He followed Kiki to the Lounge in the pre-dawn darkness. He opened her car door for her, as humans were expected to do for one another. When she climbed out, his breath caught.
Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. He’d never seen it down—not that it mattered. She hadn’t applied her careful makeup yet, either. Without the black eyeliner, her normally bright gray eyes looked darker. Like storm clouds. Like smoke.
“Benji?”
He shook himself. “S-sorry. Um. Good morning.”
She smiled. The laugh lines around her eyes and mouth deepened. “Morning. That’s about as good as it gets until I’ve had coffee. C’mon.”
He followed her, scanning discreetly for thralls and other threats. Seeing none, he let his eyes revert back to his human disguise and tipped his face to catch a desert breeze. As it cleared his head of confusing thoughts, he studied the stars. A king’s dream of diamonds still glittered across the paling sky. No city lights marred the crystalline perfection.
This little scrap of serenity was the only good thing about this job.
Benji considered, not for the first time, just walking straight out into the desert. Leave this all behind him. Small as the town was, even Appaloosa had too much noise, too many smells. Too many humans for his peace of mind. Kiki was the only one he didn’t hate, and that was grudgingly. She’d be easy enough to forget.
Three more weeks, ‘Jiishnael. Fifteen more days of pretending to be the aloof waiter and cook at the kitschy, Hawaiian-themed diner. Then he’d be free to return to Dromtsuul. He just had to be patient, and keep the Lounge and Kiki safe in the meantime. But, if Beirak couldn’t track the unknown spell weaver, he might risk Azrulbey’s wrath by leaving early. To the abyss with the bounty on my head. I’m not dying in this claustrophobic void-hole in the middle of nowhere.
The Tiki Lounge lay at the outskirts of Appaloosa, at the edge of the desert proper. It was close enough to the throbbing casino districts to be considered a quaint side attraction. Tourists loved it; after blowing their savings in Vegas, they’d look for a quiet place to nurse their headaches and their wounded pride. Kiki had no idea the place’s popularity was actually due to the convergence of ley lines beneath the restaurant, and the spells Azrulbey had laid on it. She really believed customers liked the garish decor.
Of course, the customers believed they like that crap, too. That was the point of the spells: enjoy this place. Be happy. Be agreeable. Azrulbey orchestrated countless deals here, most of them successful. His horde was the best fed of their starving people.
Benji grimaced internally. None of those other deals were this big, Az. You’re drawing attention.
If he skipped out before the deal was done, he’d never see Dromtsuul again. He’d be stuck in this realm, hiding from bounty hunters among the humans he so disliked… again. Azrulbey had connections; he’d already cleared Benjiishnael’s name from the last job he’d worked—and botched—sixty years ago. If he did this one well, his master had hinted that he’d build him up as a Dromtsiir of means and respect. Then I could tuck away with my books, where no one would bother with me.
“Hey, Earth to Benji. You gonna stand there staring at the sky till your eyes dry out?”
He sighed. He wouldn’t go into the desert. Not today. He turned what he hoped was a pleasant smile to Kiki. “Sorry. Just got some stuff on my mind.”
“Anything I can do?”
He shrugged. “Not really. But thanks.”
She nodded and slipped inside. Benji cleaned while Kiki balanced the books. He left the bathrooms for last, hoping she might finish quickly and do that task for him. She didn’t.
The horrid filth-pits were sparkling and restocked just a little before opening time. Intending to ask if it was okay to unlock the front doors, he paused outside Kiki’s office. He listened to the shuffling papers, keyboard clicks, and the occasional sigh. He’d deny it if anyone asked, but when she was like this—focused purely on business rather than sassing her customers—he almost liked her.
In the short time he’d been flipping burgers here, he’d come to know as much about his human boss as he was able to without changing their working relationship to something more intimate. Heat rose in his face at the thought. That was something he could do without; if the bathrooms were disgusting, sex was surely worse. He’d heard of Dromtsiirin who’d had to fornicate with humans on jobs. Most told horrifying tales of sweat, grunting, and slime coming from places he’d rather not think about.
Of course, some Dromtsiirin claimed to enjoy it. They said their brethren didn’t know what they were missing. He shuddered.
The office door opened. Benji straightened, drawn from his thoughts. Kiki squeaked when she saw him. “Damn it, Benji! I told you not to lie in wait like that. You’re too damned quiet.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Wear bells, or something.”
“Sorry. I keep forgetting.”
“S’all right. Bathrooms done?”
“Spotless.”
“Good. What say we let in the teeming hordes?”
He smirked and headed for the dining room. The ‘teeming hordes’ was the small group of seniors who had breakfast at the Lounge every day. Mr. Stipe, who seemed to like him more than the others, gave his usual sage advice: “Cut your hair, boy. You look like a damned hippie.”
But he smiled as he said it, and winked. His own hair spilled down his back in a curly pony tail. Benji gave his usual response: “You, first.”
As he set the coffee to brewing, he tried to ignore the realization that perhaps there were two humans he didn’t hate. He scowled.
Scale up, ‘Jiishnael. You’re getting soft.
CHAPTER THREE
If he had to slice one more pineapple, Benji thought he might just burn the place down, then storm off into the desert. The Tikiburger, with a slice of the exotic yellow fruit on top, was the Tiki Lounge’s most popular dish. Complicating the usual Saturday night rush, a tour bus full of seniors had decided to make the place their dinner stop tonight.
He went out to help wait when the second cook, Manny, showed up for his shift. As soon as the elderly tourists saw Benji, his evening got worse. Most scolded him about his long hair, scruffy cheeks, and tattoos. Well, most of them did. One tiny, blue-haired lady squeezed his ass as he took her order. She tried it again when he brought her food, but he deftly twisted out of reach. The old cougar winked at him. The smile he gave her in return hid the grinding of his teeth.
Kiki and Manny were chuckling when he came back into the kitchen. “I think your girlfriend there wants to take you to the back of the tour bus,” Manny said, wiggling his eyebrows.
Benji rolled his eyes. “Shove it.”
“Yeah. That’s the idea.”
Kiki giggled. “She not your type?”
“Decidedly not.”
“Why not?”
“Yeah, man. Whatchoo lookin’ for in a lady?”
Heat rose in Benji’s cheeks. “I’m not looking for a lady.”
Manny’s eyes glittered. “Oh, really? I got a cousin swings that way. I could introduce you.”
Benji stalked past them and shouldered through the back door. He sagged against the wall outside and blew out his breath. Between Beirak’s lack of success in tracking the spell weaver and his own
newly heightened awareness of Kiki, he’d been on edge for days. Add in the antics of the handsy old broad, and he wanted to punch through the wall.
The skin of his hands itched. He curled them into fists, resisting the urge to let his claws slide out. The cool air helped to clear his head. After a few minutes, he regained some semblance of calm.
The door creaked open. Kiki poked her head out. “Benji? You okay?”
“Yeah. Just been a long day.”
She joined him against the wall. It had been a week since the thrall had threatened the Lounge. She’d shown her appreciation in little ways at work. An extra break here and there, helping put dishes away. She even cleaned the bathrooms twice. And she lingered after the place was closed, chatting with him under the stars. Never for long, but enough to be noticed.
Kiki tipped her head back now and stared at the sky. Her lips twisted in a frown. “Was Manny out of line? I can talk to him, if you want me to.”
Benji shook his head. “Nah. I know he was joking.”
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Because, you know, that’s fine, if you do prefer men. You don’t have to worry about getting crap from anyone about it here.”
A startled laugh bubbled out of him. “No. I don’t prefer men.”
“Didn’t think so.”
Benji detected a hint of relief in her voice. He tilted his head. Why?
“Come back in when you’re ready,” she said. “I’ll take over Grabby Grannie’s table for you.”
He snorted. “Thanks.”
She left him to the solitude of the desert edge. The night seemed colder without her.
Absurd. He shook himself, squared his shoulders, and started back inside. His pocket vibrated. He drew out his phone and cursed at Beirak’s text: Meeting’s been moved up. Wednesday. Same time.
He’d have been happy for the change—it meant this job would be over sooner—if not for all the careful scene-setting that had been crafted around next Saturday’s meeting date. Now, all the little tension-builders Azrulbey had planned for the week prior wouldn’t occur. That would make Lars Barron, the owner of the up-and-coming Mystic Casino in Las Vegas, less desperate to accept an investment offer. And it would make Ming Song, CEO of Song Enterprises and leader of the notorious Dragon Blades, less desperate to find someone to launder the Blades’ black market earnings.
His thumbs glided over the screen: Got it. Does Az know?
Yes, Beirak texted. He’s shifting things. Don’t worry about it.
Benji curled his lip and tucked the phone in his pocket. Back in the kitchen, Manny tipped him a wink. “I think girlfriend A doesn’t like girlfriend B very much.”
Benji peeked out just in time to see the little old lady who’d goosed him giving Kiki a dirty look behind her back. Kiki saw him and grinned. The little cougar saw him, too, and smiled sweetly. He gave a pleasantly-neutral smile in the direction of both of them and ducked back into the kitchen. “I’m not paid enough to deal with this.”
Manny groaned. “Man, tell me about it. Other day, I’m opening the place and this dude comes up…”
Benji mostly tuned him out. He didn’t care what his co-worker had to say on a good day, and today was far from good. His mind stormed through the details of the deal. How would Az re-work all the pushers? Some would be easy enough, but others… Losing three days of baiting was no small hit.
The deal promised massive, complex negative reactions worldwide, triggering and multiplying the anxious energy on which the Dromtsiirin fed. Azrulbey and all those loyal to him would be able to feast at will, regardless of where they happened to be in this realm. They wouldn’t have to resort to more direct means of persuasion, and would be less likely to drain any one human beyond recovery.
Benji’s mouth watered at the thought. He sighed. I hope you know what you’re doing, Az. No feast is worth dying over.
Three-and-a-half long hours later, he waved goodbye to Manny and the other waitress, Leanne. They disappeared into the darkness outside and Benji locked the front doors behind them. As if on cue, Haddaway’s “What Is Love” blasted on the speakers. Kiki shimmied out with the vacuum cleaner.
Benji stood frozen by the door. She’d let her hair down. It was a small thing, but suddenly he was seeing her as he had a week before, opening the Lounge in the dark of early morning. Her care-free movements enthralled him now as surely as her smoky gray eyes had then. She hummed along with the music.
Kiki caught him watching and stopped. Turning off the vacuum, she motioned him forward. “Dance with me, Benji. It’s been a long damned week. Dancing will make it better.”
He swallowed hard. He understood that humans danced casually, with anyone and everyone. It was meaningless to them, but his face burned nonetheless at the invitation. Humans. Did they hold nothing sacred?
Kiki mistook his hesitation. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to dance,” she said, hands on hips.
“I, uh, never learned.”
“Not even ballroom?”
He shook his head.
She chuckled. “Well, then, it’s about damned time.”
She strode over to the stereo and plucked her iPod from the dock. A few deft flicks of her finger later, the music changed. The bouncing club beat became a much slower, softer tune. There were no words, no electronic sounds or loops. The instrumentation was pure.
Kiki turned back to him and crooked her finger. Benji’s heart raced. He couldn’t figure out exactly why. He thought it should be because this was far too intimate an act. But it was nothing to her; it should be nothing to him.
He made up his mind when she tilted her head at him. He’d do it. He’d add this to his human act. Just part of the job. He made himself smile. His voice sounded far more calm than it should. “How do I…?”
“Like this.” She guided one hand to her shoulder, and held his other up and out. Her right hand settled on his side, just above his hip. It took all his willpower not to flinch away. The top of her head came up to his chin, so she tilted her face up to speak to him. “I’ll lead this first time, and you follow. Then we’ll switch. Okay?”
Benji nodded, not trusting his voice. Kiki showed him how to move his feet and count the steps in time to the music. The box-step, she called it. Then she guided him out to an open spot and began to lead him through the dance. He reacted to each push or pull of her hands, shifting his body to wherever she seemed to be telling him to go. Her bright smile told him that was the right thing to do.
By the song’s end, his heart had slowed and he felt slightly less stiff. They switched hand placements. Her hip was soft, rounded. Her fingers on his shoulder almost brushed the side of his neck. The second song was shorter, so he let her convince him to dance a third. That was the one in which he really gave in to the act, pulling her closer with a grin that felt true.
As the music faded again, Kiki squeezed his shoulder, then stepped back. “There. See? You feel better. I can tell.”
Surprisingly, he did. He’d been so focused on getting the dance right, he’d temporarily forgotten about the deal.
They finished cleaning to the sounds of the softer music. Benji waited while Kiki balanced the books, then walked her out to her car. She leaned against the side for a moment. “You’re a good dancer,” she said finally. “A natural, my father would have said. I still can’t believe you’d never done it before. Sure you’re not pulling my leg?”
“I’m sure. I just never met anyone I wanted to dance with, I guess.” He looked away from her searching eyes. “It was… nice.”
She dipped her head, a shy move that struck him as unlike her. “Well, you can dance with me any time. If you want to.”
His breath caught. This wasn’t part of the job. He was only supposed to protect her.
Keep her happy, Az had said. Surely he didn’t expect…
Benji blinked at her, a half-smile frozen on his lips, as she climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. She shook her head, her face so
ftened by uncertainty. After a moment she met his eyes and nodded. “Have a nice weekend, Benji. See you Tuesday.”
“Yeah; you, too,” was all he could manage. He watched her go. His phone vibrating again broke him from his stillness.
Az wants to meet up, Beirak texted. Tomorrow at noon.
Fuck. Benji considered hurling the phone into the desert, to be covered by sand and cracked by the midday sun. Instead, he replied, I’ll be there, and shoved the blasted thing back in his pocket. A meeting with his master could only mean one thing: something had gone wrong.
He followed Kiki in a darkness that encompassed his thoughts as well as the world around him. Halfway home, he found himself wishing for the peace he’d felt while moving with her to the music. His jaw flexed. His claws slid out and the scales of his hands glittered in the moonlight.
He was a fool.
CHAPTER FOUR
Benji stepped out of the bathroom at Beirak’s house. The mild air felt good against his bare skin, but it tickled along the small hairs covering his arms, chest, and legs as he walked. He shivered involuntarily. The basement door stood open. The soft, dim glow of candlelight threw shivering shadows along the wall beside the stair leading down. A haze of incense crawled along the ceiling. The thick, vanilla-and-sulfur smell gave him a headache.
I’ve been in this realm too damned long. This was the scent of home, of Dromtsuul’s wet soil and ashy air. He should welcome it the way humans embraced the smell of baking cookies. Instead, he breathed through his mouth as he descended to join Beirak beside the portal ring. Kurleon leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Benji wasn’t surprised to see him; he wasn’t the only one acting as bodyguard for one of the humans involved in this deal. Kurleon had become Lars Barron’s new best friend.
Beirak and Kurleon were naked as well. Kurleon’s dark brown skin and meticulously muscled body were a stark contrast to Beirak’s pasty, sweat-glistening rotundness. Benji wondered when Beirak had last bathed. He was suddenly glad for the incense.
