“Yeah,” called Crimson, as if she had not spoken. “Like I said—not right now.” He waved her away with his free hand. “Go on! Shoo!”
The woman’s lips curled in a disgusted-looking sneer. One long canine showed. The rakshasa hissed softly. “Are you ze creature who slew my father?”
“Don’t make me get the spray bottle!”
“Spider—”
“Lady, take a fucking hint!” The mocking tone ruptured around a snarl, then sank to a low, dangerous rumble. “Leave. Now.”
The demon narrowed her eyes at him, sizing him up. She sniffed once, cleared her throat, and began again. “Spider—”
The revolver kicked in Crimson’s hand with a BOOM.
The rakshasa spun to avoid it, too fast to not have magical aid. The window behind her exploded inward. In the same spin the whip came down towards Crimson.
White-eyed, Jasper pushed him out of the way, and the whip coiled instead around his forearm, cutting through the sleeve of his coat and suit to bite into his flesh. It hurt like hell, and Jasper couldn’t stop the cry that burst through his lips.
“Look what you made me do, araignée,” the rakshasa hissed.
Crimson grabbed hold of the whip and gave it a hard yank. It ripped free of her grasp, the coil leaving scorch marks on the palm of his hand as he cast it aside. “Encule toi salope.”
Jasper, who knew just enough French to ask where the bathroom was, didn’t know what that meant, but judging by the look on the rakshasa’s face, it wasn’t anything nice. She spoke in quick French that Jasper couldn’t hope to follow, practically spitting the words. Crimson sneered and shot back a string of retorts, punctuating them with another boom of his revolver and a very rude hand gesture that translated just fine.
The rakshasa sprang higher, now back to the third story. “Stop with your nonsense,” said the woman. “My father paid a small fortune for this shiny little trinket. By right, he belongs to me.”
Crimson fired again. “What’s left of your daddy is buried in an unmarked landfill behind St. James Academy, you stupid bitch.” And again. “Learn from his mistakes.” And again. “And keep your filthy fucking paws off my hybrid.”
The rakshasa danced around every shot, but the last grazed her cheek and puffed back a lock of her hair. She had retreated all the way to the sixth floor and was crouched there on the corner of the balcony. “I’m asking nicely now. Next time—”
Crimson raised the gun again, as if to fire, but his other hand went under his jacket. As he squeezed the trigger, the rakshasa moved again. The bullet missed, but the throwing dagger was still leaving his hand and, as she alighted again, it struck her inside the shoulder.
She yowled and ripped it away, flinging it back to the ground, only to have Jasper’s dagger sting her arm. Jasper reached for his next knife, and Crimson snapped open the cylinder of the gun to reload, but the rakshasa chose to make her exit and went scampering up the building, just like a cat up a tree. High up, just above the light, she called back to them, “I will not be so nice next time.”
Crimson glared up after her for a long moment, perhaps following her progress beyond Jasper’s line of sight. Then, shrugging away the stiff, poised stance, he turned back to Jasper. “Do you wanna go after her?”
Yes, thought Jasper, because some primal part of him deep down did want to go after her. But he said, “No,” because all the other parts of him just wanted to go home and try to salvage what remained of their perfect evening. The long gash on his arm was a brutal dose of reality in what seemed like a dream too near its end.
Crimson agreed without argument, then asked if Jasper wanted to go to Alcander’s. The half-blood shook his head. The wound on his arm hurt, but it wasn’t so bad, thin and shallow enough that it was already clotting as they waved down a taxi and got it to bring them back to Gravesend. Jasper knew if he let himself go down into the security of Al’s, he would not come out, and he knew if he wasn’t back at the agency tomorrow, they would come looking for him.
He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if the others were hurt because of him.
Chapter Thirty-One
—
Mockingbird
Crimson helped Jasper up the stairs to the attic room and sat him down at the kitchen table while he fetched water and clean cloths and a roll of bandages. “You know,” he said, dropping down in the chair beside him and holding out a hand for Jasper’s arm, “I always liked cats. Think I might be starting to lose my taste for ’em though.”
Jasper didn’t respond. He watched Crimson clean the cut, then dress it. Aside from being a little put out by the interruption, the werespider didn’t seem all that concerned about the rakshasa or the fact that she would certainly come back. Crimson had been so happy these last few days; it was contagious. Jasper thought about moving closer and picking up where they had left off in the alley. Then he thought of the smile falling from Crimson’s face when Alan told him, no, he would not be staying after all. He imagined him waking up to an empty bed, to panic and heartache and betrayal.
“Shame about the suit,” continued Crimson. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” said Jasper. He had to tell him. He had to tell him right now. “It’s just a little cut.”
“Wasn’t talking ’bout the cut,” said Crimson.
“I…” Jasper must have rehearsed in his head how he was going to break it to him a hundred times. None of it was ever good enough. In fact, it was so not good enough that he wanted not to tell him at all. “I think…” His lips struggled against the words they didn’t want to say. “That maybe… me and you…”
Crimson’s eyes widened just a little. He spared him one last pain. “Are you about to break up with me?”
Jasper swallowed hard and started in a rush. “It’s not that I don’t care about you. It’s just that… I don’t think this is gonna work. That demon is gonna keep coming back.”
“So we’ll kill her,” said Crimson. “I’ll kill her.”
Jasper shook his head. “You can’t protect me.”
“Jazz, c’mon.” There was still a little levity in his voice, a feeble attempt to smile. “I’m tellin’ ya, that bitch isn’t gonna be a problem. I got her scent, and she ain’t as strong as her old man. We can take care of her. Easy. I’ll go right now if it’ll make you feel better.”
“It’s not that easy, Crimson.” Jasper thought of what Charlie had said in the park, about how others like Folami would come looking for him. The thought was frightening, but he knew he would not face them alone with Crimson. The werespider would die trying to save him before he’d let someone take him away. That thought frightened him even more. “There’ll be more. Lots more. You can’t stop them; you’re just one person.”
“So then we’ll go somewhere else,” reasoned Crimson. He still didn’t understand the full extent of the problem, and now Jasper knew for sure he couldn’t risk telling him. “We don’t have to stay here. We can go anywhere you want. Anywhere in the world.”
Jasper wished that were true. “I wanna go home.”
Crimson glanced quickly around the attic apartment and then back to Jasper, who looked down before their eyes could meet. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—” Jasper let out a shaky sigh “—that I think I should go back to St. James.”
Crimson’s shocked silence was everything he dreaded and more. “You’re deciding this… just now? You don’t wanna think about it… or…?”
“I’ve kind of been thinking about it for a while,” admitted Jasper.
“Oh.” The shock and disbelief in his expression was replaced in a thunderclap. “Thanks for letting me know.” The sharp sarcasm in his voice cut more deeply than the whip, but Jasper tried to take comfort. Better that he should be angry. Better that he should move on. The werespider stood suddenly from the table, putting some breathing room between them. “I guess that means I probably can’t talk you out of it.”
“I have to go,” r
epeated Jasper firmly.
Now Crimson did not respond.
“If I don’t, we’re always gonna be running. We’re always gonna be in danger. Crimson, if there were any other way—”
“I know, I know,” interjected Crimson. He drew in an agitated breath, closed his eyes, and opened them again. “I get it. It’s too dangerous.” He looked away, using his cigarettes as an excuse. “I guess I can’t blame you for doing what’s best for you. This ain’t no kind of life for a human, half-blood or otherwise. I get it. Really. I do. But, uh…” He found the pack, but couldn’t find his lighter. Jasper stood up to offer him his, but Crimson took a step back, out of his reach. “I think I need to… not be in this room right now.”
“Please don’t say that,” whispered Jasper. There was no time to reconcile. This was his last night with him, possibly his last night of freedom, maybe forever. He didn’t want to spend it alone. “I’m sorry.” His resolve broke before he could stop it. “I didn’t want it to be like this. Please don’t leave right now.” He knew he was being unfair, but he couldn’t help it. Tears burned in his eyes. “I’ll stay the night. Stay with me? Please. I… I love you.”
Crimson took another leery step back. “What do you mean, stay the night? Are you leaving tomorrow? Shouldn’t you make sure they’re even willing to take you back? Unless…” The werespider’s dumb-guy routine was, indeed, just a routine. “You already did.”
The thing about lying was, once you were caught in one, the rest unraveled easily. None of this was going right. “I spoke to my father,” explained Jasper.
The look Crimson gave him was worse than if he hit him. “That’s weird, cuz it seems like I remember you swearing on your mother’s fuckin’ grave that you were done with that shit. How long have you been lying to me?”
“I haven’t!” Jasper insisted. “It was just my dad. And it was only once.”
Crimson shook his head. “I wanna believe you, Jazz. I’ve always wanted to believe you. But I don’t think I will. Not this time.”
“It’s the truth,” said Jasper, but it wasn’t, not really.
“It doesn’t matter,” replied Crimson. “If you wanna be with me, be with me. If that’s what you really want, we can figure it out. But if that’s not really what you want—if what you want is to—” his laugh was weak, completely removed from anything resembling humor “—convince me that you love me, that way I’ll just let everything go, and stand here, and pretend like I’m okay right now—” His voice cracked, and for one terrible moment Jasper thought he was going to cry. But he didn’t. “Then I guess you’re just gonna have to be disappointed. You can’t have it both ways.”
Jasper almost relented. He did want to be with Crimson, more than anything else in the world. He just couldn’t see a future where trying didn’t end with one or both of them dead. He swallowed his regret. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Me too.” Putting his unlit cigarette between his lips, Crimson turned and made for the stairs. “I’ll sleep in the other room.” He stopped on the first step, his eyes turned down. “You can wake me up if you change your mind.”
“And if I don’t?” whispered Jasper.
“Then make sure not to leave any of your shit behind.” With that, he was gone. He didn’t even give him the chance to say goodbye.
Every instinct told him to go running after Crimson, to beg and plead and apologize, to tell him everything about this horrible choice he had to make, to fight for him the way the werespider had fought for him against Folami. He would run away with him and be happy for a while, at least until the Hunters and demons caught up with them. And then everyone he loved would be dead, and he would still have to go back to the agency, probably in chains.
Jasper didn’t run after him.
He went to pack his things.
He had started the conversation with the intention of breaking up with Crimson, but now, alone in the attic, it felt strangely like Crimson had broken up with him. He wished bitterly that the other had been crueler about it. That he had shouted and snarled, lashed out at him, thrown him out of the house, told him to get lost, and warned him never to come back. That he had done something, in short, to show Jasper he was all wrong for him anyhow.
Instead, Crimson left him to remove the pieces of himself from the home they had shared, with only his guilt and heartache to keep him company. As he wadded up his clothes and shoved them one after the other into his backpack, rapidly blinking back tears and sniffing back sobs, he changed his mind. This was the cruelest thing Crimson could have done, and no less than he deserved.
He got three-quarters of his stuff stowed away before he realized there wasn’t enough room. When he had arrived, the backpack had been all he had, and it had held everything he owned with space to spare. Of course, it had also been packed very meticulously by a Hunter preparing for battle, not a heartbroken teenager barely able to see through the tears veiling his vision.
Jasper unpacked everything, folded it more neatly and carefully, bundling it all together as tightly as he could.
Still, it didn’t all fit.
The presents from Crimson were the problem—books and CDs, gimmicky trinkets from their road trip, about a dozen Bic lighters, and one Zippo. And clothes. More clothes than he had ever realized he had. He tried to remember if he had ever bought Crimson anything other than cigarettes and the occasional shot at the bar but came up lacking.
It was this realization that finally broke him.
Sobbing wretchedly, Jasper dug back into his backpack, grasping around frantically until he found what he was looking for. He drew out his mother’s copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, took it over to the counter and shakily dug through the junk drawer until he found a pen. Before he could second-guess or stop himself, he flipped open the book and wrote a short note on the inside of the cover. He paused for a long moment, staring at the words, wishing they were enough, knowing they were not.
He signed it “Love, Jasper.”
Holding it cradled against his chest, he carried it over to the bed and set it on Crimson’s pillow.
Then he stuffed the backpack full until the seams threatened to burst, threw it up on his shoulder, and left as quickly as he could.
Epilogue
Jasper walked around all night. He couldn’t go back to the house, nor could he bring himself to go to Alcander’s. He wasn’t going to go back to St. James a moment before he had to; he’d rather freeze. The cold bit at his hands, the chill wind drying the tears on his cheeks. It was not yet October. It was going to be a long, long winter.
Part of him hoped Crimson would come looking for him, though he couldn’t imagine what either of them would say. Another part of him hoped Folami’s daughter would show up just so he could feel the narrow-minded focus a fight demanded, all other senses and emotions dulled, leaving only himself and his opponent and the warm grip of a gun beneath his palm.
Neither came for him.
He spent his night looping through parks and down the same streets over and over until, slowly, the dark sky turned gray and purple, then yellow like a fading bruise. Jasper walked towards his destination, the sun slowly warming his shoulders, though the air still felt cold. The Manhattan skyscrapers were gold in the dawn’s early light, and St. James Academy shined brighter than most, a sharp blade in the Heavens.
About the Authors
E.M. and Jay met on a virtual pet site when they were both fourteen and were brought together by their love of awful (awful) movies and supernatural monsters. They’ve been writing together ever since. Find out more about them and their upcoming novels at their website: hunterandspider.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One — Along Came a Spider
Chapter Two — Strangers in the Night
Chapter Three — St. James Academy
Chapter Four — Welcome to “Paradise”
Chapter Five
— The Crystal Ballroom
Chapter Six — Werespider Family Values
Chapter Seven — The Good Doctor
Chapter Eight — Old Friends
Chapter Nine — Suspicious Minds
Chapter Ten — Highway to Hell
Chapter Eleven — The Summerlands
Chapter Twelve — All Accounted For
Chapter Thirteen — Date Night
Chapter Fourteen — New Friends
Chapter Fifteen — Best-Laid Missions
Chapter Sixteen — The Joan of Arc Institute
Chapter Seventeen — Pressure
Chapter Eighteen — Happy Hunting
Chapter Nineteen — Going Underground
Chapter Twenty — Sleepover
Chapter Twenty-One — Devil in Disguise
Chapter Twenty-Two — For You
Chapter Twenty-Three — Betting Games
Chapter Twenty-Four — On the Block
Chapter Twenty-Five — Here’s Lookin’ at You, Kid
Chapter Twenty-Six — Gimme Shelter
Chapter Twenty-Seven — Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Chapter Twenty-Eight — Nothing Gold Can Stay
Chapter Twenty-Nine — Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing
Chapter Thirty — The Collector’s Daughter
Chapter Thirty-One — Mockingbird
Epilogue
About the Authors
Strangers in the Night Page 39
