Black Dog Blues

by Rhys Ford

  “I don’t think you and I travel in the same circles.” I chanced a look around the club, watching the manufactured hybrids chatter and dance in the lights. “I can’t imagine you’d have any business for a Stalker.”

  “Oh, it wouldn’t be for a job.” He flicked a finger wave to a waitress, calling her over to the table. “Can I interest you in something to drink?”

  “A Coke, in a sleeve,” I told the woman hovering near my elbow. “If they don’t have it, then a bottle of water. Nothing in an open glass.”

  “I’ll have the same,” the faux sidhe said, smiling at me from across the table. “You don’t trust me not to drug you.”

  “I don’t know you,” I said. “It’s best not to start off on the wrong foot. You might like the elfin to obsession, but not everyone does. No sense in tempting fate.”

  “Ah,” he said, making a steeple out of his fingers. “I can assure you that all my people share my… fondness for the Courts. It’s a requirement to work here.”

  “People lie.” I shrugged. Our drinks arrived, and I popped open the tab on the Coke.

  He waited until the waitress left before asking, “What can I do for you, Mr. Gracen?”

  “I need information on a sidhe lord who has come into the city,” I said. “His name is Ryder….”

  “Ah yes, Ryder of the Clan Sebac, High Lord of the Southern Rise Court and Third in the House of Devon. We’re all very excited about his establishing a Court here.” Orin’s smile stretched his plump lips, leaving pillows of immobile flesh in the middle of his grin. “What would you like to know?”

  “Anything I can get my hands on,” I replied. “I’m doing a background check.”

  “And you came here? I’m honored.”

  “Someone suggested it. Seemed faster than digging through news briefs.”

  “Digging through briefs is sometimes… fun. It depends on whose they are.”

  I let that pass and stared at him from across the table.

  “I’ve heard about you, you know,” he said, moving his hands forward until our fingers almost touched on the small table. “I’d never pictured you with fully black hair. Like I said, the relays are often blurry and the color is sometimes off, but I like it. It’s very Old Dusk Court. Do you have to touch it up often?”

  “People seem to find the color of my hair fascinating lately.” It was creepy to think of someone watching me on news relays. Even creepier to think that there were news relays. “How much for information on Ryder?”

  “You’re very direct for a sidhe,” Orin commented, canting his head as he studied my face. “And your accent is barely there. It’s only a purr under your words. Very curious. Is it true that you were raised among humans?”

  “Here’s how this goes,” I said tightly. “I pay you some cash, and you tell me what you know about his lordship.”

  “I don’t need any cash. I’d prefer something else.” He smiled again, and I almost told him to get his money back for the cutwork on his mouth. “I’d like an exchange, really. Much more suitable.”

  “What? An exchange of information?” I balked with a shake of my head. “I don’t think I have anything you’d want to hear….”

  “That’s not what I was thinking.” His unnerving smile grew wider. “I’ll tell you everything you want or need to know in exchange for a kiss.”

  “A kiss?” I was beginning to wonder if the man was insane. “You hoping a kiss will turn you into a sidhe? It doesn’t work that way.”

  “It’s a kiss, and I promise it will be quite chaste.” Orin smirked. “Not anything else, although I wouldn’t say no to that either. I’ve never tasted an actual elfin before. What harm can it do?”

  I weighed my options, which weren’t many. If I had another source of information, I’d walk out of the door, possibly still shooting Orin for the hell of it, but I was stuck. With Ryder in my car for two days, I needed to know more about him, and since I’d already taken the job I couldn’t back out, not without losing my license and a healthy commission. The guy had me over the end of a very sticky rock, and he probably knew it.

  “Damn it.” I rubbed my face, wishing I’d ordered a shot of whiskey instead of a soda. “You go any further than that and I’ll skin your sorry ass.”

  “I promise, nothing more.” Orin stood up then came over to my side of the booth. He moved the table out of the way, the metal legs screeching over the floor. I pressed against the seat back, wondering what he was up to. Straddling my legs, he sat down, resting his hands on my shoulders as he leaned in, pressing his face against my neck and inhaling deeply.

  “What the hell are you doing?” My hand was already on my gun. I didn’t know when I’d moved it, but suddenly my palm was full of steel, and it was no surprise to me that I didn’t mind it one bit. “I’m not a flower.”

  “I’m going to take my time, Mr. Gracen. This is… for me… a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d be foolish to rush it,” he said, his breath hot on my skin. “You don’t mind if I call you Kai, do you? Considering….”

  “Just get it over with,” I growled. “And don’t call me anything. Just get it done.”

  “Do you know how rare it is for a human to get this close to an elfin?” I felt his lips move on my skin as he spoke, skimming along my throat.

  “Not very rare,” I said, trying to dislodge his face from my throat with a wiggle. “Everyone I know is human. They’re this close to me all the time.”

  “Lucky friends,” he murmured. “You smell like… cinnamon and oranges. I knew the sidhe pheromones were pleasant to us, but this is… surprising. There’s almost a spiced taste to you, like a brewed tea. Does everyone smell the same, or do you all have different scents?”

  “Different, I think,” I muttered, trying not to think of a green tea fragrance that sprung to mind. “I don’t know. How long is this going to take?”

  “Just a few seconds, I promise,” Orin said, running his hands down my shoulders and over my chest. “You’re more muscular than I thought you’d be. I’d like to see you without this jacket on.”

  “I’d like to see you with a hole in your forehead, but I’m guessing I won’t get that either.”

  “And you’re hostile to touch,” he said, shifting on my lap. “I’d heard you aren’t picky about what sex your lover is, but you’re almost repulsed by my touch. The elfin love being touched. It’s a part of their culture… almost part of their psyche.”

  “Psychotic,” I corrected. “That’s a part of their makeup too.”

  “Your eyes are so purple, almost black, but I can see the blue flecks in them, almost sapphire caught in amethyst.” The back of his hand ran along my cheek and down my jaw. “It’s amazing how smooth your skin is, absolutely no coarse hair, and golden under the pale. We have such a hard time mimicking that, you know? Those tones under the sidhe skin are so difficult to duplicate.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to,” I admitted. He wore pungent cologne, and it was beginning to make my nose itch. I would have sneezed on him if I weren’t afraid he’d have taken my snot and tried to replicate me in some back-alley lab. “Look, I know what I look like. I don’t need the refresher course. You going to do this, or what?”

  He put his lips on mine before I could protest further. As a rule, I didn’t like kissing, and the touch of his lips did nothing to change my mind. Orin slithered his tongue around mine, pressing into me until the taste of his mouth gagged me. He was sour on my tongue, and the sliver of silicon used to plump his lips moved like a cyst, rolling around under his skin.

  I swallowed, trying not to pull away, but the tang of his body invaded mine, delving deep past my lips and into my throat. He sank his teeth into my lower lip, sucking the flesh into his mouth, and played with it using the tip of his tongue. His hands rose up and clasped the sides of my face. Then his tongue pressed in for more.

  I gagged, gulping down the reflex before I lost the noodles I’d eaten. Shoving him away, I reached for my Coke to wa
sh away the bite, not caring when Orin tumbled to the floor. He grabbed at the table, trying to catch himself. Too light to hold his weight, it toppled over. The metal hit the floor with a thump, and the other Coke sleeve rolled away, spilling the sticky soda over Orin’s boots.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” he said, staring up at me. “Why are you so cold?”

  “Dude, you have no idea what cold is. And so we’re straight, you ever touch me again and I’ll kill you,” I choked, getting my words out around a mouthful of soda. “I will fucking gut you and string up your intestines to hang lights from. Are we clear on that?”

  “Crystal,” he said as he stood. He righted the table, then smoothed his hair down and sat, his hands pressed on his chest and stomach. Orin looked shaken, taking a deep breath as he composed himself. “I’m satisfied with my end of the bargain.”

  “Good, because that’s all you’re ever going to get from me.” I pulled out my gun. Placing it on the table next to my drink, I gave him my best Dempsey look, and he paled. “Now talk. Fast.”

  “He’s been in the city for about five months and contacted all the elfin living here, even the unsidhe, or so I heard.” Orin signaled the waitress for another drink, a very tall whiskey sour. Telling her not to bother cleaning up the spill, he waited until she returned with a brimming glass. He took a sip and met my stare. “Ryder’s from a very old house, one of the oldest from Underhill. His family’s ruled the Northern Court for centuries… it’s near San Francisco… and he’s the third of four children from two mothers who are sisters, I think.”

  “Four?” I drained the rest of my Coke, then opened the new one the waitress had brought me. I could still taste him in my throat. “Isn’t that a lot for… them?”

  “Their family line is exempted from any battle service because of their fertility. None of them fought in the Merge wars, although they’re trained for it. I know they’ve had strong mages in their background, but I don’t know if Ryder shares that talent.” Orin reached for his pocket to pull out a cigarette case. He offered me one, then lit one for himself when I shook my head. “When I heard he was coming here, I did my research on him. I thought I might be able to offer some assistance—a human-elfin liaison.”

  “Why’d he come down here? To get away from his family?” I pondered Ryder’s decision. What I knew about the elfin could fill my hand. Separating from a Clan wasn’t unheard of, but there was always a reason, usually siblings fighting for political or social influence. “Who’d he piss off?”

  “From what I understand, no one,” Orin replied. “His mothers’ family is very well thought of politically. They’re known diplomats, and I suspect he’s been trained as such. There was a vacuum of power down here in San Diego, and he was the natural choice to fill it. A Court existed here pre-Merge, one of the Devon House, so Ryder waited until the hostilities between our races died down, then stepped in to reestablish it.”

  The music shifted, becoming more lethargic. Smoke rose from the floor, nearly viscous with the heaviness of patchouli and vanilla. On the dance floor, the ghostly bodies behind the privacy screen slowed, their forms merging closer. The monsters were rubbing up against one another, some nearly fornicating through their clothes as they danced.

  “There are some sidhe who followed him down, younger sidhe. Not anyone established in their Clan. Some of them are barely out of childhood. Maybe a few hundred years. Ryder’s young. About four hundred or so.” Orin looked at me curiously. “How old are you?”

  “Old enough to drink and use a gun,” I reminded him. “How many are here now? Five? Ten?”

  “Thirty. Maybe more,” he replied. The number surprised me. I should have been paying closer attention to the elfin movement in the area, but it hadn’t been a worry before now. “They’re very loyal to him. They’re renting one of the Sun towers, but he’s establishing his Court in the middle of Balboa. I think the Court will build there soon. There’s been talk between Ryder and the Council about leaving the old human buildings intact and growing the Court up around them. I have a source that says he’s been in contact with the Tijuana Dusk Court, but nothing’s been confirmed.”

  “The Courts don’t mingle. They hate each other. The only reason they aren’t continuing to kill each other off now is because humans would outbreed them in a few generations.”

  “It’s a rumor, but one that I’m working to substantiate.” He fished a maraschino cherry from his drink then bit into it carefully. “If he is mingling the Dawn and Dusk, then I want to be there to see it. It’s unprecedented in elfin history as far as I know, but then I could always use more information. I’d appreciate anything you can pass on to me. I can make it worth your time.”

  “I don’t get this whole”—I waved my hand around—“obsession with the elfin thing that you’ve got. The two races don’t mix between themselves or humans. Hell, the Courts can’t even breed with each other. They’d spit on you and the rest of these freaks. Why the hell do you want to be like them?”

  “Because the elfin are beautiful, and there is very little beauty in being human,” he said, sucking his fingers clean. “And I noticed you said the races instead of our races. Why is that, Kai? You sound like you hate the elfin world you came from instead of embracing it as the beauty it is.”

  “Because behind that beauty lies something more rotten than black dog meat,” I said, standing up and tucking my gun away. “If you were smart, you’d stay as far away from the Courts as you could. If not, well, hope you enjoy being eaten alive. Thanks for the soda. I think I’ve had enough.”

  “And thank you for the kiss,” Orin said to my back. “If you need anything else, you know where to find me. Maybe I can help you work out that hatred of yours.”

  “You’ll be the last one I think of when I get around to it,” I promised under my breath as I hit the doors. Handing the waitress a tip, I squeezed past her. “You, baby, should get another job. Working for him? You might as well be working for the damned elfin.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WHEN I came out of the Diamond Kitty, they were waiting for me. As tails went, these three men were pretty crappy. A shuffle of feet on the dirt in the alley caught my attention even before I saw shadows against the wall. With a cough and a hissing scold, I made out there were at least two. The third became visible when he stepped into the light, and the other two followed him in a moment, outlined against the brick.

  Stopping at the curb, I lit a kretek and sucked in the clove smoke, cupping the lighter I’d tucked into the box as I watched the men’s shadows weave back and forth. Behind me, a couple of club kids chatted about pupil color and contacts. They’d seen me walk out, giving me the eye and probably under the impression I was one of their patchwork dolls. Both laughed and headed into the club, a much safer place for them than the gloom outside.

  “Wonder how they think they’re going to get jobs looking like that when they grow up,” I muttered to myself, then laughed at the “old man” voice coming out of my mouth.

  The fake elfin didn’t bug me as much as the three lurking in the alley. I wasn’t certain if they were looking for me in particular, but when I stepped into the street, they followed, making enough noise to wake the dead and drunk. Elfin hearing was only a little bit better than a human’s, but Dempsey was one of the better Stalkers ever to hunt on the Left Coast. He’d toss me out on my ass if I couldn’t have heard them bumble up behind me.

  A squeaking keen rattled my ears. The sound of metal scraping along cement was distinctive, but I didn’t want to look behind me to see what was being dragged along. A small flatbed truck loaded with boxes of chayote rumbled by, backfiring exhausts kicking gray-blue fumes into my face. I blinked and coughed, using the distraction to take a quick glance behind me, and groaned. I’d hoped for teens looking for a roust, or even college kids looking to haze into their fraternity, but the men following me were huge and thick-knuckled, definitely looking to kick someone’s ass.

  Better mine than those ki
ds’. I shrugged, wiping the exhaust from my eyes. My ass could take it. I’d taken worse.

  The men were nearly uniformly broad, close-cropped hair and blunt features. One tucked a length of pipe behind him, its end hitting the concrete every so often in a small singing chime. Another in a striped rugby shirt hefted a blackjack in his hand, swinging the weighted blunt leather-wrapped cosh at his side. The leather looked worn down, its weave matted with sweat and oil. The last one looked to be unarmed, but that usually meant he was going to be more trouble. There would be either a knife or worse on him somewhere, and he was keeping it on the sly until he was someplace that he could do some serious damage.

  The cosh could hurt—would hurt—especially if I were hit in the face. I’d had one used on me before, and the weapon was mostly illegal except for law enforcement. I was authorized to carry one, but they were brutal to the flesh and hell on the bone. The guys intent on beating me were cops. I recognized one of them, and my gut told me if I stopped and flashed my Stalker credentials, my three shadows weren’t going to grin broadly and invite me out for a beer.

  At least not without smashing the bottle on something and cutting my face open.

  Walking along the other side of the street, I looked for someplace a bit quieter than the sidewalk. Although it was late at night, small clusters of people hugged doorways and niches, dealing or smoking cigarettes. I was far from the red lantern district, but some of the more worn peddled their skin farther out. It always came down to a choice between less competition and more clients. A few grumbled as I passed, but no more than the usual mutterings. I was much more concerned about the trio lurking behind me. If they rushed me while I was out in the open, the people grumbling behind me could become a problem. I was going to be busy enough with the three. I didn’t need more joining in on the fun.

  The sound of boots pounding the pavement was all the warning they gave me. Unlike their tailing skills, these men knew what they were doing when they attacked. Silent except for the huff of their breath whistling past their teeth, they picked up their pace when I reached a stretch of boarded-up shops. I broke into a run, a closed wrought iron grate rattling loudly when my shoulder struck it. The hit turned me around slightly, twisting me about, and I used the momentum to push myself into a side street, catching the flat of my hand on the building’s front wall. It stung a bit but faded under the adrenaline washing through my system.