“Of course he does,” I muttered.
I glanced at Angel, who burst out in a laugh.
We’d joked about Brick basically embodying a walking vampire stereotype.
When I looked over at Black, he was frowning. I saw him exchange looks with Manny, Lex and Lawless, then look back at me.
Just then, the back door slammed open to the house.
A young man, skinny, maybe in his late teens or early twenties, vaulted down the steps, gripping an old-fashioned television in his arms. He moved so quickly and lightly, he might have been carrying a pillow instead of the bulky, cathode-ray set that filled up most of the span of his wiry arms. Bringing it to our table, he set it on a stump not far from where Jackson sat, who I presumed must be his father.
Jackson frowned, waving the fork at him once he had it down, and the screen facing the rest of us. “You bring t’other cord, son?”
“Jasmine’s got it,” the younger Jackson said, unwinding the black cord attached to the television set from around the prongs in the back.
Just then, the door banged again, and a girl, maybe sixteen, walked down the steps more casually, holding a gray extension cord in her arms and she plunked down the steps. Plugging one end of that cord into a socket to the right of the porch, she unraveled it as she walked towards them, until she reached the older boy, who was probably her brother.
When I frowned, glancing at Jackson, he nodded towards Cowboy.
“He said you’d want to see t’news. This’s easier than dragging everyone inside. Or tryin’ to do it on twenty different phones. Internet’s not so great out here.”
Understanding reached me, and I nodded, even as the skinny African-American kid flicked on the television, then spun the old-fashioned dial to change the channel.
Immediately, a news counter and two anchors appeared.
It was difficult to make out their words at first, or the images on the screen behind them, due to a light fuzz of static that rippled through the image. After Jackson’s son screwed around with the rabbit ear antennae for a few seconds, however, the picture cleared up.
Once it had, I could suddenly hear the male newscaster’s words, crystal clear through the tinny speakers of the old television set.
“…our still-evolving story involving the once-dubbed ‘Rockstar King of Wall Street,’ and private detective to the rich and famous, Mr. Quentin R. Black, who is currently wanted for questioning by federal authorities. Last seen outside a residence in the wealthy Broyhill Forest neighborhood in Arlington, Virginia, after attending the funeral and reception of a friend, Black evaded agents when approached by Home Security––”
The picture and audio fuzzed out again, then righted itself.
“––possibly escaped via one of his private planes. It is now believed he may have left the country. Authorities are asking people to report any sightings––”
Again, the image and audio disappeared behind a burst of static. When the broadcast resumed, the newscaster’s voice and face were grimly serious as he spoke into the camera.
“––if you see him, do not attempt to approach. Federal authorities are strongly cautioning civilians that despite his celebrity status, he is considered armed and potentially dangerous. If you do happen to spot him, call the number we’re displaying on the screen below––”
The picture whited out in another burst of static, killing the audio and the image.
That time, it didn’t come back.
The young man with the skinny arms again started adjusting the rabbit ears, trying to get them to align with the signal.
Next to me, Easton grunted, tossing another empty crawfish shell into the half-full bowl.
“Fucking Feds. Didn’t take ‘em long to put it out there, did it?”
I looked at Black.
Did you know about this?
Black shook his head slowly, his eyes still focused on the television where Jackson’s son was trying to get the image back.
How are we going to go anywhere like this, Black? I sent, frustrated by his lack of reaction. If your face is plastered all over the news, people will definitely report it if they see you. Most sightings will be bogus of course, but given how many people might record you on their smartphones, we won’t make it far… not in any cities, certainly. For all we know, someone here could have called it in already, hoping for some kind of reward.
Black glanced at me, quirking an eyebrow.
Your buddy Jem’s keeping an eye on that, doc, he sent.
Frowning, I exhaled. Kind of missing my point, Black.
It’ll be okay.
How? I sent, sharper. How will this be okay?
“I guess we’re going to New Orleans in disguise,” he said, speaking out loud. He rested his hand on my thigh, gauging my face. “Don’t worry. We knew this might happen. Dex and the others brought latex and a lot of other things from California we can use.”
Before I could ask him what that meant exactly––
Another voice spoke into the silence.
Unlike Black, or Easton, or Frank, or even Jackson, Cowboy or Angel, that voice spoke in the distinctive yet more urbane version of the long New Orleans drawl.
“That won’t be necessary, Quentin,” the voice said.
I heard it smile through that drawl.
“…That won’t be necessary at all, I’m afraid.”
14
SIMILAR PREDICAMENTS
BLACK STIFFENED ABRUPTLY. His light flared out, wrapping into and around mine. His body went so taut I thought his muscles might rip the seams of his pants.
His eyes swiveled, faster than mine, fixing like an animal on a tall figure standing in the back door of Jackson’s house.
Jackson’s son, who’d been adjusting the rabbit ears, stopped playing with the antennae and stared in the same direction as Black, eyes blank, his mouth slightly ajar. Something about the empty look in his eyes disturbed me.
Even so, I didn’t look at him for long.
My eyes followed everyone else’s. As I studied the outline of the man standing there, his pale face visible in the shadows by the door, his long, dark hair hanging in waves down his shoulders, I felt my heart jackknife in my chest.
I already knew who it was.
I knew his voice, even before I’d turned.
I just couldn’t quite believe it.
“You’ve gotten sloppy, Quentin,” the voice drawled.
Its owner didn’t step out from under the shade of the porch. He did, however, saunter in slow steps closer to the edge, until he stood right under the eaves of the overhang.
As he did, his crystal-colored irises grew more visible.
“…There was a time when you would have looked over the skin of every single solitary human being in this place,” Brick drawled, his eyes on Black. “You would have stripped off their clothes, Quentin. You would have insisted on it. Looking for bites. Looking for those suspicious, pernicious gaps in memory. Looking for signs of me, of my family.”
Brick smiled wider.
Briefly, he aimed that smile at me, then swiveled it easily back towards Black.
“Now here you are,” he went on, in that light, pleasant voice. “Smack dab in the middle of my territory, surrounded by my people… and you just sprawl out on the bayou like you own the place. Eat a leisurely brunch with my neighbors. Even send your minions out into my swamp, looking for me, asking about me none too politely. Or so I hear.”
He aimed his stare at Easton, then at Frank.
After a loaded pause, he returned that stare to Black.
“I suppose I should be insulted. I likely would be insulted, Quentin, if I hadn’t already learned how uncouth and ill-mannered you’re wont to behave, just as a matter of course. Particularly when you feel your peculiar sense of moral righteousness is enflamed.”
Shoving his hands in his pants, which appeared to be made of some soft, expensive cloth, Brick leaned a shoulder jauntily against the wooden porch support. As he did
, he crossed his legs, looking like something from an old musical.
“…Because I am now familiar with that warped mind of yours, I confess, I would expect nothing less from the likes of you, and not only due to the misfortune of your blood,” he went on in that same pleasant tone. “I do think it is a genuine pity you’ve drawn all these other fine people into your games, however, Quentin. So much needless death, and all of it will be on your account. All of it will be on your hands, Quentin.”
I saw Brick’s eyes flicker around our group.
He looked first at the crowd seated on the lawn, then shifted his gaze to the two long tables and their slab benches supported by cement blocks. He looked last at the children sitting more or less at his feet, then at Kiko, Dex, Nick, Dog, Magic and Devin, who sat lower on the stairs, plates and bowls held in their laps.
They all looked frozen, as if in shock.
I saw Nick stare up at Brick, his expression filled with utter disbelief.
Then Black’s voice rose, a sharp bark across the weed-choked lawn.
“No.”
I turned, and saw Black’s eyes no longer focused on Brick, but on Dex, who sat on the porch steps next to Kiko. Staring at his employee, Black shook his head, once.
“Don’t do it, Dexter. You wouldn’t live long enough to aim it.”
Dex frowned.
I realized only then that he’d been reaching for his sidearm.
Black nodded up at the porch. “Leave the kids. He’s got them enthralled. Get up. Come out here. Slowly. All of you.”
Dex and Kiko were both looking at Black now, both of them obviously displeased with their boss’ orders. Neither of them argued, though.
They didn’t hesitate for long, either.
Rising to his feet, Dex motioned for Nick and the Natives sitting with them to follow. Once they were all on their feet and moving away from the house, Dex and Kiko put their bodies between Brick and the rest of their group, hands on their sidearms.
I saw Magic scoop up her bow and quiver as she left the steps, leaving her plate of food behind.
Holding my breath, I watched as the entire group all moved out onto the lawn, and further into the already-hot morning sunlight.
Brick didn’t move. He only watched them go.
Even so, I could feel something in his body coiled tight as a spring. Something about him evoked a tiger poised before prey, ready to leap. I didn’t see his muscles tensed for such a leap, but I could practically feel the vibration there, like an electricity in the air.
Remembering how fast I’d seen vampires move in the past, including when I’d helped lead that raid on Konstantin’s house outside Los Angeles, I bit my lip, heart hammering in my chest. Thinking about how close Nick, Kiko, Dex, Magic and Dog had been to the vampire, I felt that anxious, sick feeling in my chest worsen.
Brick’s gaze swiveled to Black.
A small smile toyed at his lips.
“Sunlight won’t save you, Quentin. Nor will it save your friends, I’m afraid.”
He glanced down at the kids, who I realized were still staring up at him. Some had blank looks on their faces, like I’d seen on Jackson’s older son. Others looked at Brick with adoration in their eyes. Reaching down, Brick stroked the head of one of the taller ones near him, smiling down at her face.
From the kid’s facial features, she had to be another of the Jackson clan.
I glanced at Jackson himself, and saw a blank look had come over his face, just like it had with his son. It looked almost like someone had flicked an “off” switch in his mind.
It’s all right, doc, Black murmured in my mind. I did that. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to attack any of us. He gave me a bare glance. I don’t think Brick has him… Jackson himself, I mean. His mind feels clean. I suspect vampires are with the sister inside, and clearly they’ve been feeding on some of the kids, maybe for a while.
Swallowing, I glanced at Black, nodding.
I didn’t try to answer apart from that.
Before I could think my way around the implications of what he was telling me, Brick’s voice rose from over by the porch.
“…I will admit to some curiosity, however, friend,” the vampire called out, looking up from the girl’s worshipping eyes. “That curiosity is likely to buy you and your friends some small amount of time, if you cooperate. So you’d best pay attention, Quentin… lest I lose my famously even temperament and unending patience with those of your race.”
Brick glanced at me a second time.
When he did, I swore I could actually see the curiosity he mentioned, right before his gaze swiveled back to Black.
“I can’t tell you how surprised I was, to find you’d wandered into my area of the world, Quentin. Particularly with such a relatively small and wholly ineffectual force. I was particularly surprised you would risk bringing your dear wife here, when you knew full well how much the uniqueness of her blood has held an interest for me in the past. I seem to remember that very point being a particular issue of contention between us… even when you were ostensibly under my control, dear Quentin. Even when you were on your knees.”
Quirking an eyebrow at that last, he gave me a look, and a smirk.
Reading the meaning there, I felt my face flush hot.
That time, it wasn’t embarrassment––or even fear.
Anger rose in me instead, filling my light a hot, liquid flood. It came up so swiftly and intensely I had trouble controlling it.
I didn’t realize I was halfway to my feet until Black’s hand on my leg brought me back down. Even then, I had to force myself not to shove him off me.
Biting my tongue hard enough to taste blood, I brought my weight all the way back down to the wooden bench, clasping my fingers together in my lap.
When I glanced up, that smirk on Brick’s lips had grown. The sheer satisfaction it held brought my anger back in another hot pulse.
“I see your wife is aware of just what a good little employee you were to me for a time, Quentin. That is very sweet, that you confide in her so––”
“Stop goading her,” Black cut in, his voice cold. “It won’t go well for you for right now.”
“Are you threatening me, Quentin?”
“I’m telling you. Now isn’t a good time to fuck with my wife.”
There was a silence.
I didn’t look at Black, but something about his words both calmed me and angered me in a whole new way. I felt the truth of them, so maybe that was the part that calmed me.
I also felt a lot behind them––a lot he still hadn’t told me.
No, Miri, Black sent, soft. His fingers gripped my thigh tighter, pulling me closer to him. His palm exuded heat, warmth, reassurance. I’m not hiding anything from you… and I have told you this. We talked about it in New York, and in San Francisco. I’ve told you over and over that we both likely to be a little crazy until the whole bonding thing with us is finished. I’m not asking you to control it, but I can feel it.
So you’re going to threaten Brick with it? I retorted. With our marriage?
I don’t want him goading you into killing him… so yes, Black answered, his thoughts frustrated. Gaos, Miri. I’m not making empty threats. I just told you––I can feel it on you. We’re trying to get intel off this piece of shit. I’m not going to get anything at all off him if you rip his heart out of his chest and feed it to him.
I scowled, but didn’t answer.
Truthfully, I could feel what he meant.
I felt that flicker of irrationality, mixed in with a colder, more calculating anger.
I’m not sure if anger really cut it, in terms of descriptive words for what I felt. I really did want Brick dead. Moreover, some part of me was already calculating different routes to make that happen, somewhere in a part of my mind that was less conscious.
That part didn’t feel all that rational either, despite how analytical it was.
Just like the more emotional part of me down here, that pa
rt saw the vampire as a direct threat to my survival, to Black’s survival, to everything that mattered.
Black’s hand tightened on my thigh, sending me more heat, more reassurance.
I had trouble letting it calm me that time, too.
Miri, I know. It’s okay… I really do know.
I felt the heat on him worsen, and after a pause, I looked at him incredulously.
Is this actually turning you on?
Black’s mind paused.
Then, after thinking about my question, he shrugged.
Would you rather if I said no?
I stared at him, then looked away, grunting. You are unbelievable.
And not that different from you, he sent, sharper. Maybe a little more honest about it. Maybe a little more aware of it, but that’s about the only difference, Miriam.
Turning, I frowned up at him, but he didn’t back down.
Rather, his gold eyes conveyed the point a second time, even as his mind remained silent. Feeling the part of my light he was pulling on, pointing to with his light, eventually I averted my gaze. I couldn’t really pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about.
Maybe for the first time, it struck me how much both of us were actively controlling that thing, whatever it was. Weirder still, we each seemed to be doing it for the sake of the other––although if it was to hide our reactions from the other out of embarrassment, or to spare them our reactions to be considerate, I honestly wasn’t sure.
In the end, I gritted my teeth, aiming my glare back at the porch.
Brick stood there, staring between the two of us.
After a pause, the vampire’s eyes shifted, focusing on Black alone.
“When dear friends of mine told me you’d sent some of your pets out to look for me, you can imagine the questions I had…” His eyes shifted briefly back to me. “…Particularly in light of our rather acrimonious parting a few months ago in New York. Particularly given how cautious you might’ve assumed me to be, given my even more recent misfortunes at the hands of the United States government.”
Glancing out over the lawn, he looked back at Black.
“I will confess… it makes me curious, friend. Very curious indeed.”
In Black We Trust Page 19
