Wherever my sister is, I’m sure she could use someone to watch her back. Damn him for making me start to care. My eyesight’s blurring again by the time I get my fingers wrapped around the doorknob.
“Black, stop.”
I tighten my fingers around grooved obsidian. “Please,” I mutter under my breath, twisting my wrist.
“Please?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my forehead on the heavy wood of the door. Damn his sensitive hearing, anyways. “Just walk away. You can do it. He doesn’t give a fuck about you beyond his own vulnerability. None of this matters. None of it, except that Jhez is somewhere in this place with a vamp or two for an audience, alone.”
Although I’m certain he can hear my private tirade, he doesn’t comment, offer rebuttal, or interrupt. Like he’s waiting for me to talk myself through it, argue my way back around in a circle, and go sit down. Fuck that. I slump against the door and cross my arms, refuse to look at him.
He seriously needs some paintings on the walls. Or something. There’s not a single personal touch anywhere in the room, now that I really look around and notice the details. No vase of flowers, or statues, or even paperweights on the desk. Nothing.
What is with that, anyways?
I can’t say the same of his flat. There’s no way a sane interior decorator would deign to use a theme of black on black like that. Not even a lyche designer. My stint as entertainment the other night demonstrated as much. Despite any physiological differences, or even socio-cultural ones, the lyche were all as unique and vibrant as any bisection of humanity from any time period in history.
So it’s safe to say he doesn’t consider this space personal. Interesting. Nothing but calm, muted tones that complement each other and blend well together. Safe, inoffensive, soothing.
Yeah. Definitely not his style. Odd.
“Are you going to sit back down?” At the sound of his voice, my skin tingles and a flush of heat surges through me. I might suffocate from the tension in my chest, if I dare exhale again. Worse than it was before I tried to block it—what I thought was the aftereffect of an unusually deep tap. Getting the distinct impression that I may have been wrong in that assumption.
I feel calmer and more rational with some space between us. Best if I stay where I am. It’s not that I don’t want to have this conversation—I want to. The drugs are wearing off and my sensitivity to him is returning full force. I don’t know that I’ll be able to string together a coherent sentence if he touches me.
For the second time in an hour, I sit on the floor. “Talk to me. I’m listening.”
He chafes a hand along his jaw, drops his head forward and scratches at the back of his neck. He glances over at me, grimaces, and stares at his wineglass, rolling it between his palms.
“One of the first things I was taught about my abilities was that I had the power to give as well as take. If a lyche orgasms with someone other than a human, the exchange of energy is not one-sided. It’s more of a balancing, opening the flow in both directions. Like the sluice gate in a canal. When you open one up, the water flows to where the level is lowest. What I did just now was different from that first time in any number of ways. I tapped you, just as I did then. And I drew deep, just as I did then. The difference is that this time it didn’t matter how greedy I got. I gave back what I didn’t need.”
“It wasn’t just my chi, my energy that flowed back into me, though.”
He shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t. Another rule of fluidity, you might say. Pour milk into water and you can’t hope to separate the two, can you? Energy is much the same. So yes, some of what ebbed back into you was my chi, not yours.”
What was so horrendous about telling me that, that it felt like pulling teeth?
“So this happens with a mutt as well as a lyche?” I let my head thump back against the door, too drained to bother maintaining any tension. The sound echoes through the room, and I grimace.
“It rarely does. Lyche aren’t the sharing sort. The stronger would lose a good bit of the energy he’d invested time and effort in culling.”
Oh, nice word choice there. Culling. I wonder if that’s the politically correct terminology. “You mean to tell me you guys don’t have sex with each other, just humans?” I sound skeptical, with good reason. Streetwalkers don’t last that long. Seems to me if they were that important, the lyche would take greater care to preserve them. Or something.
“Yes. No.” Garthelle chafes a hand across his face, a swift, curt movement. “I honestly don’t know. Tapping doesn’t always happen in conjunction with sex, as you well know. Nor is the reverse necessarily true, either. I think, though, that one is rather empty—unsatisfying—without the other.”
“So you can give chi back to a human, then?” If that is what he’s getting at, it’s monumental. I realize that lyche, being what they are, would hardly deign to accommodate such generosity.
“No, Black. It doesn’t work that way with humans. Only other lyche. Don’t you see? The fact that the energy between us leveled like that . . .” His voice grows hoarse and trails off. The clink of his wineglass is eerie and loud in the silence. I hear him swallow. “You’re not lyche, but you’re not human either. You’re mutt: an abomination, as far as most of us are concerned.”
It takes me a moment to suppress my immediate response and formulate something intelligent. “We covered all this. We’ve already established the fact that Jhez and I are unique in that most half-breeds of our type are drained at a very young age. As soon as we’re discovered. I think that’s the word you used.”
“Not all of us do that, you know. It’s an accepted culling method, but not in all circles. It’s not just that you’re a half-breed, though. You’re strong, more lyche than human, and I don’t understand why that is. You shouldn’t be able to blend energy with me like that. I’ve never heard of it happening with a mutt.” His wineglass clinks against the coffee table as he sets it down with a half-attentive slap. “Can your sister do this also?” The thread of emotion in his voice feels like borderline panic.
“I don’t know,” I answer, keying my voice low. I’m not really interested in seeing him have a full-blown panic attack. “You know how my sister feels about lyche. I highly doubt she’d deign to have sex with one unless forced.” My mouth feels dry suddenly, and I lick my lips. “None of your guests would dare to force her, would they?”
He starts to get up, then sinks back into the seat of the couch. He does this a couple times, in a disturbing rocking motion. His long-fingered hands steeple together, tap rhythmically against his lips. “No.” He takes a long breath and exhales slowly, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, I don’t think any of them would dare.”
“How do you mean?”
“Forcing her, whether physically or mentally, would be a challenge to my position and authority. I’d kill the guilty party without a moment’s hesitation, and they know that.”
Oh. Well that’s good to know. What a relief!
“Come sit down, Black.” The heat in my skin flushes at the prospect of being closer to him. Damn it, no. What I want are more answers.
“Tell me, Leonard,” I say, pushing up off the floor. Not obedience, just a concession. “Tell me why there’s an aural sympathy between us.” It’s the best way I can think of to describe it, still. “Is it because of the energy balancing? Does that mean it will wear off when the trace of your chi does?”
“You’re the chi-thief; you’ve done this trick many times, pulling from the one tapping you. But you’ve never felt this reaction before?”
I shrug and perch on the arm of the couch. “Never like this. It’s usually muted, and wears off within a couple days. This doesn’t happen with lyche?”
He doesn’t turn his head, but he does glance at me before focusing on his refilled wineglass. “I wouldn’t know. Would you like some more wine?” Without waiting for my answer, he grabs the neck of the bottle and refills my glass. His hand isn’t entirely steady.
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br /> “What do you mean by that? You’re lyche. Why wouldn’t you know?”
He glares at his wine for a moment, then trains the angry expression on me. Resentment shimmers through his features, burns from his yellow eyes. “I wouldn’t know because I’ve never fucked another lyche before.”
Oh. Managed to put your foot in your mouth again, didn’t you, Black? “I don’t know why the hell not.” Far from hard on the eyes. Among other things. No, not thinking about that right now.
Garthelle looks about ready to rip my head from my shoulders. “Because everything is about control. About dominance and power. It’s all maneuvering and political shifts. One of the only times two lyche would deign to share an equaling of power that way would be in conjunction with an alliance agreement. To ensure a level playing field where neither side can be accused of having the upper hand. I have never, nor do I ever intend to, subject myself to that circumstance.”
Yeesh. I don’t envy them their sex lives, then, that’s for sure. Why the hell are they proliferating, though? Shouldn’t they be extinct? Where’s Jhez when I get my hands on a really juicy tidbit? Seriously, she would love to hear this. She might expire from laughing so hard, but by Gaia it would be worth it.
A chill runs through me. I’m probably lucky to have survived as long as I have without being found out and exploited by some vampire long before now. Both of us are.
“So this too shall pass, am I right?” I’m just a mutt, which makes all this shit about lyche to lyche akin to fitting a square peg in a round hole. I’m taking a shot in the dark. I need some reassurance he has some idea of what’s going on. Even if he doesn’t.
He cants his head a fraction. “If I stop tapping you, I expect it will. Eventually.”
Vaguest of time frames then. Leonard has no idea how long it will take. He doesn’t know if that qualifier can be met, either. If I stop tapping you. I can sense that. I can also see the bulge in his groin. It wasn’t in evidence when I first walked back over here and perched on the couch, but it seems our close proximity affects him as much as it does me.
Small consolation, knowing this isn’t one-sided. Because my mind is wandering, and it’s growing increasingly difficult to think straight. I’m already at enough of a disadvantage, as those things are measured.
“This equalization. How much did it lower your strength?” I’m thinking if it’s noticeable, he’ll find it a simple matter to resist tapping me in the future.
He shatters my hopes with a faint smile. “It didn’t.”
I’m pretty sure my eyebrows are trying to merge with my hairline. Don’t think it’s possible, really, but it feels that way. I make a concerted effort to smooth my features and look calm. “Is that so.”
“Your chi is much stronger than you realize. Is that so surprising?”
Wait a second, that doesn’t make any sense. I just spent the other evening having any number of lyche tap my chi. Those boosters work well, but not that well.
I furrow my brow and frown, thinking. Jhez and I, our auras blending. She was sharing the weight of the pull with me, or so I thought. She had to leave some amount of the burden on me, or I wouldn’t have had the adverse reaction I did, right? I’ll have to talk to her about that.
It’s too much to take in. I can’t even manage to weigh the implications of what he’s told me thus far. I drop onto the couch and flop on my stomach, grabbing the glass of wine and taking a long drink to settle my nerves. Don’t know how much more of these answers I can take.
You asked for it, remember? Suppressing a groan, I slide the glass back onto the table and push myself up. The aroma of food is too much for me to resist, this close.
“So are you satisfied then?” Once again, Leonard gets me with a fork halfway to my mouth. At least it wasn’t in my mouth yet. I would’ve choked again, for sure.
“Satisfied with . . . ?” I deliberately cram the loaded fork into my mouth.
“My answers.”
My blood pressure drops through the floor in relief. If I had known he’d present such a rollercoaster ride, I would’ve been sorely tempted to turn and walk away from the curb and let Kenna have him, even if it proved to be her death.
I manage to shrug casually and keep my focus on the food. “For the time being, yes,” I say in between bites.
“That’s good.” His voice is soft again, pitched low. I raise an eyebrow and glance at him while I chew. Nonverbal prompting. “I have a few of my own I’d like to ask.”
I shovel another fork of food into my mouth and shrug. He stares at me, watching. Waits for me to swallow. “Who’s your father?”
I grab the wineglass and chug. Thankfully, I saw that one coming.
“What makes you think I have any idea who my father was?”
“Evading me, Black? I’m wounded.” But a smile plays across his lips. “Touché. I don’t know your age, but I know you’re old enough to have clear memories of the time before the uprising. So the probability is high you have some of him. Whoever he was.”
“So?” I keep eating. Leonard takes a sip of wine and seems much too content to wait me out on this one. He watches me like a hawk as I take another healthy swig from the wineglass. It’s almost empty again. No doubt the buzz will catch up with me, but I don’t care. “Have you considered that it’s not in my best interests to divulge that information? You have me under your thumb, until this,” I wave my hand between us, “wears off. Right? And then I’m loose in the Blue District again. The chi-thief gets off with time served, record wiped.”
I take another sip of wine while he frowns at me and digests that. “I think it would be obvious that, whoever he is, my sire has no interest in my well-being. Otherwise he wouldn’t have abandoned my sister and me to live on the streets.” Leonard grunts. It’s not a wholly unattractive sound, but I doubt I’d find anything about him unattractive in my current state. “I’ve no desire to provide you with blackmail material against another lyche. I’ll not be a chess piece in your political maneuvering. That goes for Jhez, too. So you can take your curiosity and shove it up your ass.”
He stares at me. I continue eating, and hold his gaze. Very gently, he sits his wineglass back on the table. Something in his demeanor appears forcefully restrained as he rises to his feet, turns, and walks across the room.
The sound of the door closing is ominous in the silence.
His desertion gives me a surge of bravery, frustration. I know he’ll still be able to hear me through the door. Those sharp lyche senses.
“Well, right back at you. I’m no threat to you. The reverse isn’t true. And you’ve given me no cause to believe or trust otherwise.” By the time I make myself shut up, I’m screaming and panting slightly. His hearing is sharp, but so are the senses of every other vampire on the grounds. Lyche. Whatever. Gaia.
I glare at the door, grind my teeth, and turn back to my food. That last statement of mine isn’t at all truthful. He has shown me that I can trust him, more than once. But his attachment to us, his loyalty to my sister and I, is tenuous and visceral at best. Easily severed if a more beneficial and lucrative arrangement—alliance—presents itself.
Lyche. “Leech,” I mutter under my breath.
The door swings back open and slaps into the wall. I flinch and drop my fork onto the plate with a clatter. Rice scatters over the coffee table. I turn to glare at Garthelle, but find Jhez slamming the door shut, an expression of barely constrained rage on her face.
“What the fuck?” I ask. Whatever’s set her off, I know it’s not my fault—not this time, at least.
“Where’s that asshole?”
“Which one?” She stands her ground a pace into the room and glares at me. “Oh. You just missed him. Probably passed him in the hall, in fact.”
“I didn’t.”
My chest is starting to hurt. Like someone’s strapped a medieval torture device around me and is cranking down on it with sadistic glee. I wonder if this is what it feels like to wear a brassiere or cor
set. I pity my sister. Not that she wears them often. “I don’t know where he went. Stormed off. Much like you, only in reverse.”
“What the fuck, Black?”
I just stare at her. Between the tension in my chest and the emotionally draining episode that culminated with Garthelle’s departure, I’ve no energy or breath for much more.
She storms over and throws herself down onto the couch across from me. “He’s our employer. Don’t piss him off.”
“What, you can get pissy and yell at him, but I can’t?”
“I have good reason!”
“And I didn’t? You don’t know that.”
“What? What could you possibly have reason to yell at him about? I’ve been working for the past hour or so. You’ve been sitting here . . . eating!” She pauses to breathe and eyes the food. “What is that? It looks good.”
“It’s food, sister. I’m sure you’ve seen its like before.” I pinch the bridge of my nose to distract myself from the discomfort in my chest. “Have a plate. It’s good. And so you know, he asked who our father was.”
In the midst of spooning large servings of rice and vegetables onto a plate, Jhez goes completely still. “Oh.” The clink of flatware on porcelain is loud in the ensuing silence.
I lower my hand. The acupressure isn’t helping. “So tell me what happened.”
Her face contorts into an expression of rage again, but her motions with the cutlery remain calm and poised. “His so-called guests are animals. They’ve no manners, not a shred of decency or consideration for others whatsoever. I refuse to work under these conditions.”
Damn it, Garthelle. Suck it up and get your ass back in here.
“It’s not like being on the street, is it.”
“No.” She slams the spoon back into the bowl of rice with a bit more force than required. “I’m beginning to regret my agreement.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s ridiculous. He can’t expect us to carry on a covert murder investigation under such circumstances. I just got groped, for crying out loud.”
My blood chills in my veins. “Starrkopf.” I push up off the couch and make for the door.
Blacker than Black Page 23
