A Cold Blue Call

by A. J. Downey

  I rounded the back door and looked in at the small body, its face a pulped and bloody red ruin, and I tried not to gag. My eyes watered and I straightened up immediately.

  “Fuck me,” I said shaking my head. There was a knot of officers standing off to one side, their faces wet with silent tears, and I was headed there myself.

  Johnson shook his head violently and was like, “Nope,” and just walked away, over to that knot of officers. I depressed the button on my radio and called into dispatch to relay me to the hospital.

  It was Indigo City protocol, you had to have a doctor declare a time of death. We could relay the information, but the doctors had to make the final, official call. A lot of times, the PD would call EMS so that, by the time the coroner got there, they could begin investigating, dispensing with some of the formalities.

  I got it done, but this was going to fuck with me, haunt me until the end of days. I crossed myself and prayed for the kid and his mother while I got the paperwork moving so the cops could do their job and catch this piece-of-shit motherfucker.

  “Thanks, Angel,” Poe said softly and I nodded.

  “Welcome. Just go find him.”

  “Not going to be a problem. Homicide is on their way, but we got some ideas on what’s what based on target, etc.”

  “Don’t care; just get him off our streets and do it quick.”

  “Will do,” Poe said, his jaw knotting with determination.

  Johnson and I got the hell out of there.

  He asked me, “Think this one’ll make the news?”

  “Hard to say,” I said.

  “Why?”

  I sighed and shook my head. There was a lot of shit that went on in this city that should have been newsworthy. If the kid had been white, there was a better than good chance it would make the news, but it was a lot less likely to make it when it was a neighborhood like this and the kid was brown. The drive-by might be a footnote on the morning news. Maybe, if it was a slow news day, it would make the evening news the next night, but Indigo City was beginning to become desensitized to some of this shit.

  Crime was moving out of Baltimore across the bay, had begun infecting Indigo City, creeping into our poorer neighborhoods like some blood-borne pathogen, sweeping through neighborhoods, carried by the network of veins and arteries that were our streets. And on nights like tonight, the pain was bad. Our city was screaming, the skies were weeping, and we were enveloped by a thick, wet blanket of despair.

  Every time I closed my eyes I would be seeing the red, pulped ruin of that kid’s head on top of his tiny shoulders, his small body still in its little blue jumper and his miniature little Timberland boots. This one was nightmare fuel for years, forget just days.

  We made it through the last two-and-a-half hours of our double and I was honestly glad that I wasn’t going home to an empty house; that Claire would be there. I needed something beautiful and alive, warm and inviting, waiting for me after that. Call me selfish if you want, but her words from our first encounter were echoing back to me.

  You can’t take care of anyone else unless you take care of yourself.

  She was right, and tonight, I needed to practice a little self-care, starting with a little self-medication by way of a few stiff drinks.

  I let myself into the house when I got there and she looked up from where she was curled in one of the wingback chairs. She had her laptop perched on her lap, thick socks on her feet and a steaming mug of tea on the little coffee table. She smiled at me over her reading glasses which were black-framed and very ‘naughty librarian’ but one look at my face and the smile slid right off hers.

  “Angel, what’s wrong?” she asked gently. She set her laptop by her tea and gracefully got up from her seat.

  “Bad call,” I said, and my voice cracked.

  “Oh, my God, come here,” she said, and she came to me.

  My knees buckled under the weight of my sadness. This one was affecting me so damn much, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I don’t think anyone could hold it in after what I saw. At least, no one with a soul. She knelt next to me on the floor and pulled me against her, holding me, while I just let it out.

  I let her be the strong one for a minute and prop me up, because sometimes as a first responder I encountered things so horrible out there… I needed it, like I’d needed it three years ago, like I needed it now. I’d gotten better about leaning on some of the guys in the club over the last few years, but always had the vague worry that when it came to some of the shit that got to me, they’d think I was some kind of pussy.

  I didn’t have to worry about that shit this time around. I’d seen the same haunted feeling, the indelible stain on our souls, reflected in Poe’s eyes at the scene. I could have reached out to him. Hell, I expected he would reach out to me, and I wanted to be ready if and when he did, because he would need it. Just like I needed it right now.

  So I turned into Claire, resting my head on her breast, and wept like a little boy who’d just discovered the monsters were real. I knew that they were. I’d known for years, and I guess it was the mark of a decent man that I could still be shocked this far into a life working the street by what people fucking did to each other, but damn… It was harder and harder to keep the faith.

  Claire soothed me. Held me, rocked me, stroked my back and petted my hair, and the seething anger, the impotent rage, drained out of me. Some of the burden of my sadness slipping from my shoulders.

  “What happened?” she asked firmly, and I drew back, shaking my head.

  “You don’t want or need that image in your head, mi alma.”

  She brushed the moisture from my cheeks with gentle fingertips, her dark eyes deep pools of empathy and concern.

  “Want it? Probably not. Need it? If it unburdens your soul, then yes, absolutely, I need you to talk about it, Angel. That’s what I’m here for. You were there for me – you are here for me. Let me give back.”

  I sniffed and nodded, and I told her. I tried to keep it vague, tried not to paint too clear a picture, but she was a creative. It didn’t take much for her eyes to well and the tears to crest and fall. I pulled her to me and we held each other for a time and mourned for not only the child, but his mother, his family.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and I whispered back, “Me, too.”

  She got me. I got her. We were two souls made one from the moment we met and I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, let her go.

  This, more than anything, was proof that I needed her.

  18

  Claire…

  We’d tried him leaning against me in the tub, but his larger frame to my smaller didn’t quite work for us, so I had ended up back in front, wrapped in his arms as we sat in warm water, wine glasses at our elbows, champagne fizzing lightly in them. I’d curtailed getting into the whiskey, and the only other thing Angel had was a bottle of champagne in the back of his fridge. He couldn’t even remember where it’d come from. It wasn’t special, so we’d cracked it open.

  “I’ve never had this,” he confessed as we cuddled and took in the night-darkened view of the bay outside our living room window.

  “Had what?” I asked.

  “This kind of closeness with a woman.”

  I smiled, “What about with another person, period?”

  “My twin, sure, but things changed after he went into the military. He came out more guarded than he went in. Even with me. Like there was some sort of a gap or a rift that wasn’t there before. Like a cold glass wall separates us. We can see each other, talk and hear each other, but when we reach out, it’s a cold thin layer between us that wasn’t there before.”

  I heaved a heavy sigh and raised a knee, the water sloshing, tinkling gently where it beaded up and fell from my skin.

  “I wish I had something I could tell you about that. A magic suggestion to heal you guys, but I’m afraid on the sibling front, I’m in far worse shape than you.”

  His arms tightened around me and I covered my fac
e with my hands and said, “God, no, oh, my God, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

  He kind of froze, “Come out like what?”

  “You are having a bad night, like the worst; it shouldn’t be about me and my stupid brother at all. You’ve been far too focused on me the last several days. I want to focus on you. It’s not all about me all of the time‒” I stopped, his hand was over my mouth. I craned my head back and he looked down at me, his eyes nearly crossing to look down his nose to see me with the angle we were at. I laughed slightly from behind the cover of his mitt over my mouth, and he put it back down into the water.

  “We’re here for each other, Claire, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, and honestly and truly, things between me and Golden have healed up some in the intervening years. I think it had as much to do with me festering over being mad he left in the first place as much as him having to re-acclimatize to civilian life. That, and he had a mountain of guilt to deal with. Our mother died while he was deployed, and Maria gave him hell about it for a long time.”

  “Oh, my God, that’s awful.”

  “We aren’t perfect, far from it, but we’re family.”

  I laughed but couldn’t hold back the bitter edge. “I know that describes mine except for the part where we’re family anymore.”

  He wrapped his arms around me tighter and said, “It’s still raw, baby. Give it some time.”

  I gave a shaky laugh, on the verge of tears again, and said, “Yeah, patience was never my strong suit.”

  “Hmm, I forgot to ask, anything yet?”

  “Nope,” I said, popping the ‘p’.

  “Still a few days left to the end of the week.”

  “I know, still I feel like climbing the walls when you’re at work. I’m having a hard time sitting still.”

  He laughed some and it was a good sound after so many tears, “Now that I can believe. What do you think would help?"

  “You know, I don’t know, and even if I did manage to get my job back, I’d only have it through the winter while the Night Circus was here. After they go, I’ll pretty much be right back to square one.”

  He kissed my shoulder, paused a moment, then kissed it again, and again, and climbed the side of my neck. I laughed and squirmed from the tickling sensation and he gave the happiest, most satisfied sound, robust and so filled with relief and joy I couldn’t help but smile.

  “So you’re staying, then?”

  “I can’t leave you again,” I said, softly.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Oh, I’m sure. The joy and the thrill of the Night Circus is gone and I just don’t think I could ever recapture the magic. You know?”

  He nodded and sighed.

  “I kind of figured.”

  “It’s really time for me to find something new, and to be honest, I’m really mad at the Night Circus’ board and upper echelon. I mean seriously… they ignored it. Let it keep happening, and he assaulted me.” I shook my head. “Fuck that. No. That’s not how this is supposed to work.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to start looking for a lawyer?” he asked.

  “Already started. If they give me my job back and fire Milo, if they do what’s right, I’ll leave it.”

  “Sounds like you don’t believe for a minute that that’s what they’ll do.”

  “I don’t. I’ve worked for them for three years; I know how they operate. If they side with me I’ll be surprised, honestly. They had every opportunity to stop him long before it ever got to the point I would swallow a bunch of pills to make it stop.” My voice got quiet at the last and he rubbed my shoulders. I closed my eyes and sighed.

  “I never asked,” he said. “Where did you even get those pills?”

  I snorted, “Milo, actually.”

  I felt him go still and he asked, “Milo had enough opioids for you to OD with and he gave them to you?”

  “Mm-hm. He doesn’t care about whether we’re hurt or not. He just pushes pills, tells us to get over ourselves, and either we power through the pain or he finds someone who will.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

  “Nope. We had a dancer, Marion, from England. Kept complaining of knee pain after she came off a jump a little funky. He told her she was fine; it started to affect her dancing; he gave her the pills. Not only did she end up hooked, but she damaged her knee so bad and so permanently she’ll never dance again. Which is why the rest of us are so careful with ourselves.”

  “Jesus. That’s all kinds of fucked up, not to mention illegal.”

  “Yeah, he got a pretty stern talking-to after that one. He let the troupe’s doctor look at us and followed his recommendations more closely after that. Hell, that’s how we even got our own sports-medicine guy. Milo still handed out the pills if they were needed, though.”

  “And that’s what happened with you?”

  “Yep, I knew he had them, I lied about shoulder pain, and kept collecting them until I was sure I had enough.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, suddenly guilty. “I shouldn’t be talking about it so matter-of-fact like.”

  “Don’t be sorry, you need to talk about it. I’m glad you feel safe enough to talk about it with me.”

  “You don’t judge me,” I murmured. “You never have.”

  “You didn’t judge me, that night, back then…”

  “Fair enough, but there wasn’t anything for me to judge. I knew that. We all reach our breaking points. It’s sad, but it’s true. It’s not something worthy to judge someone by.”

  “You are a wise woman, Claire Montgomery. Now if only you would take and apply that wisdom to yourself.

  “Well, you know,” I said lightly, “I’m more of a ‘Do as I say, not as I do’ kind of girl.”

  He laughed and rocked me side-to-side in the water a bit. “That is the God’s honest truth!”

  I smiled to myself, glad that he had found his smile so quickly.

  “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “To sleep or..?”

  He chuckled and said, “Sadly, to sleep, but there’s no telling. I might poke you awake.”

  “As long as you poke me with your penis in my vagina, I am totally okay with you poking me awake in the middle of the night. I can’t get enough of you.”

  He made a shocked noise, somewhere between a cough and a ‘I can’t believe you just said that,’ before saying, “Well, all right then! That’s good to know!”

  I stood up carefully in the tub, turned around, and dropped back down, straddling his waist. He had a mischievous sparkle in his eyes and his good humor was back despite the tragedy. I put my mouth to his and his hands drifted to my waist as a moan slipped past my lips. I swallowed his answering moan, which was decadent and rich with his lust, and I, of course, wanted more. Much, much, more.

  His hands drifted over my skin beneath the cooling bathwater and I boldly reached between us and stroked him. He was already hard, and I had to fight the urge to put him inside me without protection and ride him. While I wasn’t opposed to kids someday, I didn’t want them right now, and I couldn’t trust the effectiveness of my birth control for a month after its interruption.

  “Okay, okay, okay!” he cried and I let his bottom lip go from where I’d bitten it, carefully and playfully. He put his hand around mine stilling it on his penis.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, and the edge of playfulness came out in my voice.

  “Nothing. I’m going to take you upstairs and give you what you want, even though I probably shouldn’t, you naughty girl.”

  “Hm, but you like it when I’m bad.”

  “Oh, I do, I love it when you’re bad.”

  We fell into kissing again and he finally pulled back and said eagerly, “Come on, up you go!”

  I got up, he let the water out of the tub, and we both dried off quickly. I turned around to precede him up the stairs and he gave me a light smack on my a
ss. I jumped and squealed in surprise before I picked up the pace. He chased me up to the second floor where I pushed him down on the bed. He lay down, compliant, and put his hands behind his head waiting and watching what I would do.

  I went for the condoms. I know he needed to sleep. He had a long day ahead of him in the morning. I rolled the condom deftly down his cock and chased it over him pretty quickly by sliding him into my body, sinking down slowly to let it adjust, my pussy giving a deep and throbbing ache like ‘Yes!’

  “Shit, Claire,” he said breathlessly, his hands cupping my breasts as I rolled my hips. I danced for him, working my body sinuously and sensually, rolling my hips and letting the motion carry up through the rest of my body, putting on an erotic show, just for him, as I made love to his body below mine. He reached up and dragged me down so that he could kiss me, his hips taking over where mine left off, rising and falling, his cock sliding in and out of me slowly but evenly.

  I lost myself in his touch as much as he drowned in mine, and it was beautiful. I had never shared myself so completely with another person and had them do the same in return, and felt it like I did with Angel.

  “God, Claire, I love you so much,” he whispered and I glowed from it.

  I rested my forehead against his and closed my eyes, and soaked in the emotion and sentiment, and whispered back, “I love you, too, so much… I don’t know what I was thinking leaving you like I did.” And it was true. Even after only one night with him.

  We took ourselves past the ability to speak, our breath coming in sharp, passionate gasps and panting, the pleasure rising, climbing, taking us high and higher still, giving us wings and letting us fly until, in a beautiful tragedy, we lost our wings to the burning sun and plummeted back to earth, sailing down, down, down, and crashing back to earth, back to stark reality in each other’s arms.

  We lay panting on top of the covers, our bodies slick with sweat and sex, catching our breaths and remarkably, emotionally-healed by our physical exertions.

  At least for now.

  19