“Where’s left?” asked Jasper.
Crimson laughed in a way that sounded pained and shook his head. “That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you, man. Everywhere. He could be at the fucking Onyx Eclipse for all we know.”
“You know that doesn’t mean anything to me,” said Jasper.
“It’s this big hotel in Manhattan.”
“You said we checked everywhere in Manhattan.”
“Yeah, everywhere we could check,” said Crimson. “The Onyx isn’t a playground. You don’t get to just come and go as you please. You go in there askin’ the wrong name, and you don’t come out. Ever.” He paused. “Do you have a cigarette?”
“You smoked all mine.”
Crimson heaved a sigh. “I know the owner of the Onyx. In fact, you know her too. She split a joint with us in the Summerlands.” A hazy memory tried weakly to surface, of Crimson wrapping an arm around his shoulders then turning him away from a laughing, grinning circle of faces, none of which he could distinctly recall. “She does owe me a favor, but it’s tricky. If we go in there and say, ‘Hey, Morgaine, I’m lookin’ for this guy who might be staying here, can you tell us his room number?’ she might tell us. But that’s the only favor she owes me. So then we’re square, and she boils all the blood in both of our bodies because we’re sniffin’ around where we don’t belong. I mean, fuck, Morg’s a godsdamned gambling addict. She might owe him a favor too.”
“What if you just ask her to kill him?” suggested Jasper.
“Yeah, that might work, except we’re back to square one. Alcander in a vat of boiling water. Wherever they are, they might not be together. Alcander might not even be alive. So even if we do find Shane…”
“It might not matter.” Jasper understood.
Crimson pondered a moment longer, then, mostly to himself, said, “’Sides, the Onyx ain’t like these other joints. There’s demons and mages in there that know a thing or two, and an aura or a scent like yours… I just think…”
“It’s alright,” said Jasper. With the memory of the Summerlands freshened in his mind, he agreed. Besides, the werespider was tired, and so was Jasper, and with daybreak on the horizon, there seemed little and less to do than to just go back home and try their luck tomorrow. They stopped by Alcander’s to check on Max. He was still in bad enough shape that they decided to stay there instead of going back to the house.
Jasper slept uneasily, his dreams plagued by nightmares. When he woke, Crimson was already awake and appeared to have been for some time. Today, he had showered and changed his clothes, which Jasper thought he hadn’t done for something like three days. He was sitting slung in the easy chair, using a thread and needle to repair the holes in his jacket while a movie played, muted with the captions on.
Jasper checked his phone. It was only ten a.m. His head ached at the thought of the earliness, but he knew as soon as he opened his eyes that he would not fall back asleep. It would be better if he could. The waiting was the worst.
#
“You’re up early,” said Jasper.
“I had a nightmare that it was 1955,” said Crimson. Only it hadn’t been a nightmare. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a real dream—nightmare or otherwise. Perhaps it was something to do with his age, or his heritage, or maybe he was just crazy (he didn’t know anymore), but his dreamscape was nothing more than a patchwork quilt of half-remembered things sewn and held jaggedly together with gossamer threads of emotion. When the memories were good, it was a blessing. The thing of it was, they usually weren’t.
Shane, in that time still more man than monster, was there. Face clean-shaven, flight jacket slung over one shoulder, he smiled and seemed an angel. They were laughing about something, but that was, unfortunately, the other half of the memory, the one he could not recall. Then the dream suddenly became 1961, and they were screaming at each other at the top of their voices from the steel belly of a carrier plane, while an odd assortment of people watched in awkward, wide-eyed silence. Just as the screaming built to a crescendo of ringing white noise, it was 1955 again, and Shane was reaching out from the covers, whispering his name, drawing him closer. In 1997, a glass bottle whizzed by his head, missing only by the grace of Crimson’s reflexes, shattering on the wall in a spray of deep amber bourbon and tinkling glass. It was not the first time Shane had lashed out at him—if memory served, it wasn’t even the first time that night—but for the first time in all the years they had been together and apart and together again, Crimson lashed back.
Strength wise, they were no match. Crimson broke his nose in a single swing.
Shane, looking disgusted with blood pouring from his nostrils and split lip, had called him a “fucking egomaniac” and “controlling psychopath.” That was what had finally woken him up.
He tied off the knot he was working on and broke the thread with a tug. There were no more repairs to be made on the jacket. Nor were there any more guns to be cleaned, nor knives to be sharpened. “I’m gonna make some more coffee. You want coffee?”
Jasper’s expression was written in concern. About Alcander, he figured.
“Sure,” he agreed after a long moment. “I’m going to check on Max, see if he needs anything.”
“Alright.” Crimson went to the kitchen. A few moments later, Jasper joined him. He got a clean bowl out of the cabinet. As he was checking the labels on the varied cans of soup from overhead, Crimson asked, “How’d you sleep?” though he already knew. He’d listened to him toss and turn and mumble for most of the night.
Jasper’s brow crinkled. “I had a weird fuckin’ dream, man.”
“Weird how?”
“Well… It’s hard to remember.” Jasper popped the lid on the soup can and poured the slimy contents into the bowl. It was made of limpid-looking chunks of soppy wet vegetables, wriggly noodles, and some sort of whitish meat, all floating in a greasy yellow fluid that reeked of salt. Jasper stirred all the hunks around a bit, added a dash of pepper (his sinuses stung), and put it in the microwave. “I think…” He punched some numbers on the keypad and then hit the “start” button. As the table inside started to turn, the room was filled with the scent of dead, reheated flesh. He wondered how he used to stomach the stuff. Honestly, it was so disgusting. “I think at one point I was a ham.”
“Like in Looney Tunes?” asked Crimson.
Jasper shrugged. “Maybe.” He sat down at the table, his knee bouncing impatiently. “Should we be making some sort of plan?”
“Like what?” asked Crimson.
“Well,” said Jasper, “we could…” His voice trailed off. “Like, I don’t know…”
“The only thing to do is wait,” said Crimson. He took a seat beside the half-blood, hesitated, then put a hand on the other’s knee. The bouncing stopped, and Jasper’s gaze cut to his. He withdrew his touch immediately, putting his fisted hand firmly on his own knee, where it could do no further harm. “Trust me, I don’t like it either.”
#
The Crystal Ballroom didn’t open until nine, and Jasper and Crimson were the first customers there. The place looked especially sad with the lights flashing over the empty dance floor, which seemed to be permanently sticky from a thousand spilled drinks. The music bounced like an echo around the open room. They grabbed a booth where they could see the door and watched as people began to show up. A server stopped by their table, dropping off a trio of shots for Crimson and a dark red Manhattan for Jasper. Jasper was too anxious to drink his and just spun it idly between his hands; Crimson didn’t have the same problem.
Ten o’clock rolled around. Jasper drank half his drink. He kept checking his phone for the time, wondering with every painfully passed minute where the fuck Shane was. At 10:21 he finally sauntered in with one of his vampires and another demon he didn’t recognize. Jasper moved to leave the table, to confront the incubus at the door, but Crimson stopped him with a touch on the wrist and a minute shake of the head. They waited for Shane to come to them.
“You’re late,” Jasper snapped.
“Sorry, bright eyes. I was settin’ something up.”
“Where’s Al?”
“Safe as houses,” said Shane. The vampire slid into the booth across from them, and Shane sat beside him on the outside. The other demon pulled a chair up to the end of the table and dropped into it, between Crimson and Shane.
“Then you won’t mind if I speak to him,” said Crimson.
Shane pouted extravagantly. “What’s the matter? You don’t trust me?”
“Right,” said Crimson. He stood up, looking at Jasper. “Let’s go.” The demon at the end of the table rose, facing him, and the werespider snatched at the same moment, twisting the arm holding the drawn gun with one hand and grabbing his revolver with the other.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” hissed Shane. “Don’t go makin’ a scene, either of you.”
“Then let us talk to Alcander,” said Jasper. The idea that he would actually just walk away was absurd, but Crimson had decided to bluff, and he obviously knew better what to do in a hostage situation (well, he hoped he did anyway), so Jasper followed his lead. “We just want to know he’s safe.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. A’course I’m gonna let you talk to him.” Shane gestured to the recently disarmed demon, who was currently holding his wrist and scowling openly at Crimson, who already looked at the razor’s edge of turning the whole place into a shooting gallery. Jasper tugged on the werespider’s sleeve, and he dropped back into the booth beside him and stretched his long fingers out for Shane’s phone. He was wearing the leather gloves. The incubus put it on speaker and handed it to him as the ringtone began to sound.
Eventually there was a click, and a gruff voice asked, “Yeah, boss?”
“Put the vampire on the phone,” said Shane, raising his voice to be heard across the table.
There was the sound of a key rattling in a lock, the squeak of an unoiled door hinge, and the rough rumble of the voice again, now far enough away from the receiver that no words could be discerned.
“Hello?”
Jasper knew Alcander’s voice at a word. He spoke before Crimson could. “Al! Are you okay?”
“Jasper?” The vampire’s voice went up in pitch, very nearly becoming a squeak.
“It’s us,” said Jasper, and at very nearly the same time, Crimson said, “Be calm, Al.”
“Crimson, you get Jasper the hell away from him.” Jasper’s ears rang. He had never heard Alcander swear. “Do you understand? Don’t let him—” A loud CRACK was followed by the sound of something striking steel, punctuated by a mewl of pain.
“Gimme that,” growled the unfamiliar voice. Jasper numbly listened to the sound of a very brief struggle, snarled words, thudding punches and kicks. He made it all of five seconds before he cracked. “Tell him to stop!”
Shane narrowed his eyes at him slightly, the corner of his lip curled.
Then it was Jasper’s turn to stand, though what he actually tried to do was lunge across the table, his eyes flaring white with fury. Crimson’s fingers closed on the strap of his belt and pulled him firmly back into his seat.
“See? Now that’s the sorta show I was hopin’ you’d put on,” said Shane. He made a “give me” gesture with his hand, and Crimson, still holding Jasper back, slapped the phone into his palm with a surly, red-eyed scowl. “Let up on the vampire, Rick. I seen all I need t’see.”
“Yeah, boss,” replied the voice, as if that were all it could ever say. Then the line went silent.
“Shane,” rumbled Crimson, “this is between you an’ me. It’s got nothing to do with either of them.”
“Actually,” said Shane, “you’re the one it’s got nothin’ to do with. I mainly just invited ya here so I could see yer head explode when you realize yer not the center’a the fuckin’ universe.”
Crimson barked sarcastic laughter. “I’d tell you to go fuck yourself if I thought you’d actually be able to feel it, you little shit.”
Shane held his fisted hands on either side of his own head, then splayed his fingers while imitating a muted “BOOM” with his mouth. Then giggled. “Right on schedule.” He dropped his hands to his sides and looked at Jasper. “It’s like a dog barkin’, y’know? They only do it when they feel threatened or want attention.”
Jasper did not reply. He was still having trouble processing what was going on. Shane had kidnapped Alcander, beat the living hell out of Max, and was currently playing poke-the-bear with Crimson, all because of… him? That didn’t make any sense.
“Jasper couldn’t even help you rob a liquor store,” snapped Crimson. “Much less a bank. You’re barking so far up the wrong tree the racoons are laughin’ at you, dipshit.”
“Oh yeah, the bank.” Shane laughed, delighted. “Well, I might still let you help me do that. If you behave. But like I said, this ain’t got nothin’ to do with you. It’s all about bright eyes over here.”
“I don’t understand,” said Jasper finally.
“Y’know, neither did I,” said Shane. “I been around for a minute, not as long as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dramatic over here, but long enough. Used to freelance as a mercenary afore my demon genes kicked in. Seen all sortsa stuff. And it’s the damnedest thing, I never seen nor heard of a demon with eyes what glow white. And Ralphy over here—” he gestured to the demon sitting between him and Crimson “—never Seen one with an aura like that neither. And Jim—” he gestured to the vampire, who had sat silent and stony-eyed for the entire conversation “—never smelt one with a scent like yours either. What about you, sugar? You ever met one like him?”
“Sure,” said Crimson. “Off world. In Necropolis. White wraiths are a dime a dozen out there. And he’s really only a measly half-blood. Barely any demon in him.”
Jasper looked at him with a mingling of shock and anger, that he could have known this all along and never once said.
Then Shane leaned across the table. “You ever hear the phrase ‘you’re so full of shit, your eyes are brown’?” He swiveled his gaze back to Jasper. “I had a hunch, so I decided to do some diggin’. Consulted lots of brains, includin’ your vampire pal. Turns out you’re pretty rare. One of a kind, even. Unique.” He grinned. “People pay big money for unique.”
For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, Jasper only stared at Shane, though he wasn’t seeing Shane, as it were. The incubus just happened to be in his eyeline.
What he was seeing was his life in rewind. Crimson telling him he could not come inside the Onyx Eclipse because he would draw attention. The hooded figure in the Summerlands gargling something at him, then the urgency to find some way of masking his aura. Ivory purring with curiosity. A three-thousand-year-old, extremely elusive, exceptionally paranoid werespider dropping out of the sky just to talk to him, then agreeing with little or no convincing that he should come live with him.
Some dozen-odd vampires flaring their nostrils, the snap-to of Seers’ and psychics’ eyes as he walked through the agency day after day. Charlie telling him he was different. Charlie telling him to be careful. The jagged toothed thing in an alley in Seattle, screaming about white light as it ran screeching and pouring blood. A mother and father he had never known, and a question that loomed over his entire life, unanswered.
“Do you know what I am?” Jasper heard himself ask.
“Valuable,” said Shane.
Jasper swallowed the rebuttal. The incubus didn’t know any more than Crimson did.
“Now,” said Shane. “Here’s how this is gonna work. You two are both gonna come with me. You’re not gonna make a fuss. There’s not gonna be any threatening or yelling or fist throwin’. We’re gonna get in the car, and we’re gonna go somewhere, and when we’re there, you—” he pointed at Jasper “—will come with me. And you—” he pointed at Crimson “—will get an address for where you will find Alcander.”
“How about instead of all that, I just blow your brains across the room?”
Shane shrugged.
“Alright, well, that’s on the table a’course. You can if you wanna, but I bet you won’t.”
Jasper put his hand on the werespider’s wrist, shook his head once, then looked at Shane. “If I do this, Alcander goes free, right?”
“That’s right,” said Shane. “And if you don’t… bye-bye bloodsucker. I don’t mean to press ya or anything, but I’m kinda on a timetable right now. So decide real quick-like.”
“No.” The word growled out of Crimson, low and dangerous. It was not so much heard over the club’s music as felt. “No fuckin’ way.”
“Crimson.” Jasper spoke quietly too, but without the demon’s viciousness. “It’s not up to you. This is the only way to help Al.” He looked across the table. Shane smiled smugly back. Jasper hated him with all his heart. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“I knew you’d see it my way, bright eyes.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
—
On the Block
They left the club and got into the Range Rover waiting for them outside. Crimson was red-eyed beside him, his grip on Jasper’s wrist so tight it was almost painful. The half-blood found it grounding.
Once in the car, Shane told them to give over their weapons. Crimson had a whole new slew of curses for him at that request, some of them in languages Jasper didn’t understand.
“Temper, temper,” tsked Shane, and Crimson grudgingly handed over his gun, as did Jasper. The incubus twisted around in his seat. “All of them,” insisted Shane. “Less you’re lookin’ to get frisked.”
Jasper dug the knives out of his pockets and off his belt and handed over the small-caliber pistol holstered on his leg. Crimson bundled up his jacket and winged it at the half-demon’s head. “I expect that back. The gun too.”
Strangers in the Night Page 31
