Blacker than Black

by Rhi Etzweiler

  “I don’t give a fuck what else he has to say, Black. We are so out of here.”

  Jhez paces the living room, arms folded across her chest. She stops in the middle of the room and stares at me, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. I grip the heavy wood lintel in my hands, bracing myself against the smooth grain for whatever is coming. We’ve made it back to our old flat, but she’s too upset to venture back to retrieve our stuff from the place the Monsieur of York provided us with.

  Me, I’m too shaken up to think straight yet. Yeah, we needed some space. No doubt about that. I rub at my breastbone in a futile attempt to alleviate the pressure. The distance between Dragulhaven and the blue-light district is not insubstantial. Right now, I’m feeling every inch of it. I grip the lintel a little harder, trying to distract myself. Just don’t think about it. Drown out discomfort with pain. Yeah, pain. Leonard. The emotion flying between us, auras and limbs tangled in his bed. Fuck. Plenty of pain to do the trick, and I’m willing to try anything at this point.

  Her eye twitches. Mouth tenses into a flat line. “I thought you agreed to take the pills Blue gave you.”

  Except that. “They do more harm than good.” Such a change in sentiment. Not long ago, we had this same accusatory conversation, and she berated me for taking them. Gaia in a regeneration truck full of gutter sludge. She’s like a ping-pong ball with this. “You also asked me to stop. Remember?”

  Her brow furrows. The mixture of anger and confusion isn’t a good one for her. “Tell me what you mean, more harm than good. Obviously not taking them gives him the greater advantage.”

  “I have no desire to walk around unable to sense lyche, to see the flow of energies around me, the auras that are how we read others.”

  She sighs. “It’s just . . . Damn it, we aren’t going to be able to lay low unless you do.”

  I hunch my head in a reverse shrug, arms locked to hold myself up beneath the brunt of her mood. “I get that . . . but . . . It made me itchy twitchy, let me tell you.”

  “Maybe there’s something else Blue can—”

  “Right. With other side effects he doesn’t bother to mention because he thinks they won’t matter? Because they don’t translate over? He said he used this dampener himself, and it worked well. Blocked the music, he said.” Guess I should have asked what that meant, how it would translate over. He’s a brother to me, to both of us. I don’t think I can ever take another hypno-hit again without second-guessing. Without wondering what it will do to me. Not entirely his fault, but it’s enough to make me want to push for what he knows and hasn’t thought to share.

  She resumes her pacing for all of two strides before she wheels back toward me. “So he thought it was harmless. Because it stopped him from hearing everyone? How did he not grasp the implications of that. Gaia help that man, because I am going to flay every inch of—”

  “I get that he might not have realized what it would mean, and neither of us thought to ask. His foremost concern was my state of health, I’m sure,” I interject. The mental image her rant evokes is not a pleasant one, and I don’t want to entertain it further. “He said he’d shoot me up himself if I didn’t take them.”

  “Yeah, I know. I was in full agreement with that tactic at the time.”

  “Is it possible he didn’t know?”

  She closes her eyes and tilts her head back. The stillness feels heavy enough to crush me. Exhaling a gusty sigh, Jhez collapses onto the couch in a slump. The tension bleeds from me in one surging flood, leaving me limp and hollow with relief. Only my grip on the lintel is keeping me upright.

  “What are you proposing he was ignorant of? His own heritage, its similarity to ours?” She picks at the seam on the seat cushion, frowning. “That man always knows precisely what he’s doing.”

  “What was he doing, then? Because I can’t see it. You saw how Garthelle looked. If I’d shot up again last night, instead of letting him tap me . . .”

  She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. “I saw. He wouldn’t have been able to do what he did with Ardienne. Not at all. They would have seen him as weak. Defenseless.”

  Effectively cut off from half his power. “And lyche are nothing if not predators.”

  “The alternate series of events wouldn’t have played out well for us. Or Garthelle.” Ardienne—or Desmonde—would’ve done to him what he did to her. And then the two of us would’ve been standing in a nest of lyche, chi-thieves free for the taking. Flashes of Blue’s conversation about the feeding house come to mind, and a chill runs over my entire body.

  “Fantastic.” Jhez stares at me until I meet her gaze again. I voice the thoughts that I can all but hear bouncing around in her head. “So did Blue know what he was giving me? Or was he somehow . . . persuaded . . . to pump me full of something that would weaken the Monsieur of York?”

  “Our sire’s in a position of power. Garthelle strongly suspects someone has a leash on him. Someone identified his greatest point of weakness and attempted to exploit it in order to divert the focus from Noire. This isn’t a bluff move. Soiphe’s death was very real, that’s evidence enough.”

  “No, definitely not a bluff. Someone doesn’t want to lose control of their puppet. The men who tried to grab us in the flat the other day? I’d say that’s evidence enough to support that.” I won’t soon forget the drawn, listless state Garthelle was in last night, despite the recent developments. “Misdirection? Or camouflage? Why go after Garthelle, unless he’s clearly a threat? Has the ability to upset the balance. Break the leash.” I release my death-grip on the lintel and perch on the back of the couch, crossing my ankles and swinging my legs. My heels make a soft thump against the leather upholstery. “But how would he predict who I’d go to for pharmaceuticals? And get to them before I did?”

  “It smells particularly fecund, doesn’t it?” Jhez drawls. “I would venture that whoever has the squeeze on Noire has it on Blue as well. Wonder how many others.”

  “We should get Blue over here.”

  “To question him?”

  I shrug and study her expression closely. “Perhaps. If need be.”

  Jhez laughs, a soft sound with a keen edge of sarcasm. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”

  “In this case, they seem to be one and the same.”

  “I haven’t had this much fun in ages.” Jhez pushes up off the couch and gestures to me with her head. “Let’s go. Time for the Bruise Brothers to collaborate again.”

  Blue strolls up to me, head canted, eyes squinting against the glare of the slanting afternoon sun at my back. The wind whips down the street, invisible fingers grabbing at my clothes and hair, tangling them. His head is a pincushion of gelled spikes pointing out from his scalp in every feasible direction.

  He opens his arms and wraps them around me, squeezing with a strength that’s marginally surprising from a person his size. “Black, my brother. You look delicious. Taking those drugs I gave you, yeah?”

  “I took them.” The hedge comes smoothly, without the slightest twitch of guilt.

  “What brings you out here?” His vivid eyes take in Jhez, an edge of wariness and confusion. To the casual observer, it might even pass for a casual inquiry. “Not that I’m not glad to see you. It’s just unexpected.”

  I’ll bet it is. “We need your help with a little research for the investigation. How about a little side job as a consultant?”

  He stiffens and releases me from his embrace to take a step back. “After what I told you, explaining how I feel about this . . . you still come to me?”

  I shove my hands in the pockets of my trench coat and shrug. “You’re the best, Blue.” I want to believe he’s innocent in all this. Really, I do. With every fiber of my being. He’s been my brother in all but blood for how long? It’s difficult, verging on physically painful, to think he may have deliberately put me in harm’s way. For any reason. “And we’re not—uh.” On the verge of telling him that Garthelle is no longer directly involved
, the words die in my mouth as an unmistakable limousine eases up to the curb beside us, belonging to none other than the Monsieur of York.

  Garthelle is certainly letting his two cents on the matter be heard. Loud and clear, lyche. You want us back at the castle, right now. I want some answers. Perhaps even more than Garthelle does. And I can’t get them standing here on the street with trash blowing by and people strolling past and traffic honking and whizzing and humming and the general buzz of the metro and that ambient noise from the pervasive azure radiance of the structures surrounding us.

  I didn’t realize how loud the street was until I escaped it for a short time. However temporary the relocation is, I have a profound appreciation for the distance it gives. Shame it won’t last.

  Jhez shuffles her feet, impatient, hovering at my shoulder.

  “We need to talk, Blue. And we can’t do it here.” The sobriety of her tone makes me stiffen. If she spooks him and he bolts, I will kill her, with no remorse whatsoever.

  Well, that’s not entirely true. But I just might flay her like she wants to do to him.

  He frowns at her, and I can tell he’s feeling her tone of voice like a blind man “seeing” someone’s face with their hands. Blue has mixed-up senses. He sees flavors and scents, tastes and smells colors. And whenever you touch him, he hears sounds. Sometimes, he writes down the notes of the music that echo through his head. I have one somewhere, a haunting duet of piano and violin from the day we first met.

  Needless to say, few people take the time to wend their way through the convoluted labyrinth of logic that is Blue. And it’s very difficult to lie to him. The closer you stay to the truth, the better off you are. Or, at least the odds of success are higher.

  “I feel you,” he says with a nod. His voice sounds strained. Coupled with the hunch of his shoulders, it’s readily apparent there’s something going on. He settles into the seat across from me and Jhez in the limo, gaze darting back and forth between us from behind wire-rimmed, rose-tinted glasses.

  “Where’s the limo taking us?” he asks softly when neither of us speak. I scoot sideways until my shoulder brushes against Jhez. This feels so wrong. Garthelle hasn’t proven to be the ally I thought he was trying to be. Lying to us, all along, and yet we’re headed right back to him. Makes me furious just thinking about it. Why did he have us running in circles, wasting time, instead of giving us the information?

  “To someplace where we can chat without being interrupted.” Jhez smiles at him in an attempt to reassure, but I can still feel the edge of hostility radiating from her like a cutting gust of winter wind stealing the breath from your lungs.

  Does Garthelle already know who’s holding the other end of Noire’s leash? Has it all just been a delay tactic? If so . . . what’s he waiting for?

  Damn it, there’s no way for this to end well.

  Blue eyes the door, bare of visible handle or lock mechanism. He looks like a caged animal, a glint of resignation and acceptance that slices through the majesty of an untamed spirit. He belongs on the streets, and that’ll never change.

  I feel like the worst sort of human. And then I remind myself of what almost happened. Of what else may have happened, had I kept on doing as he asked.

  My chest aches.

  It has been, ever since Jhez and I left Dragulhaven earlier today. The limo driver hadn’t been very pleased with our destination, but Garthelle hadn’t given him specific orders to the contrary.

  I rub absently at my sternum and wonder why Garthelle said if this wears off. Like he harbors a hope that it won’t. Or knows something else he isn’t sharing, which at this point is likely to be the case.

  Does the prospect of being tied to a single individual for the rest of his existence really appeal to him that much? His face flashes through my mind, devoid of the demarcations of stress and tension. The faint curl of his lips in an enraptured state of satiation.

  I want to see that again. And not simply because I felt powerful in that moment. It was a heady sensation, but the swell of emotion was decidedly more complex than that.

  Damn it, I’m of no use to my sister if I can’t keep myself from being distracted. I glance at her, then over at Blue. They’re staring at each other.

  “I can tell you’re not happy with me,” he says, voice low and gentle.

  “Astute observational powers.” Jhez doesn’t back down.

  “Would you like to discuss it?”

  “Are you sure you want to?”

  “You’re my friend.”

  “How about we discuss those pills you’re pawning.”

  “Which ones?”

  Irritation flares in me and I lean into Jhez a fraction as I interject. “The ones that numb a Nightwalker from sensing a vampire.”

  The silence presses against me like a mountain.

  “Who gave them to you? I’ve known you for how long, Blue. You don’t pawn something unless you know exactly what it does. Good or ill. You knew they blocked the music, turned it off.”

  His gaze flicks between the two of us. “Back up. Sensing a vampire. You can do that?”

  Jhez and I look at each other in eerie synchronization. She curses under her breath and studies Blue. Her expletives aren’t colorful enough for my mood, but I am shockingly unable to think of anything appropriate.

  Things aren’t looking up much. Does the drug keep other lyche from sensing the individual and recognizing their kinship? The same side effect that it has on a mutt? That would explain much about Soiphe’s murder. If she thought her companion simply human, and so did everyone else in the castle . . .

  Why didn’t I ever put two and two together and realize Blue’s twisted musical “talent” was a sign of his parentage?

  My head hurts. My chest does too, throbbing with a painful ache that steadily loosens and ebbs as the limo retraces its path to Dragulhaven. A part of me loathes the fact that I want nothing more than to curl up on the couch next to that damned lyche and feel his arm wrap around my shoulders. I have more backbone than this. Shouldn’t I be able to resist better? Reminding myself of the lies and manipulations has no effect on the sense of relief I feel as the pressure in my chest eases in gradual increments.

  “Seriously. You two can sense a vampire?” We stare at him. “I’ve never known anyone who could do that before. Like, ever. I sure as hell can’t. I recognize them by their behaviors, just like every other Nightwalker I’ve known. And their music. It’s different.”

  “Are you hearing yourself? Their music is different.” I purse my lips together, then suck the lower one between my teeth and chew on it.

  He shakes his head, the halo of spikes not shifting despite his emphatic gesture. “I told you it blocked my music; I didn’t know what that would translate into for you.”

  “Someone knew. Who supplied you with that drug?”

  “You think it was deliberate? Isn’t that rather . . . paranoid?”

  I swear he was going to say something else. When he’s agitated, he sometimes describes emotions with an amalgam of scents and colors and sounds. Most of the time, the similitude conveys his meaning clearly enough.

  “Not so much as you might think,” I say as the limo eases to a halt.

  Beyond the heavily tinted windows, the castle looms large and imposing. More like a safe haven than a prison, though. A shift in perspective, I guess. Despite Garthelle’s dislike for this place, despite the mass of lyche milling within it, each one a faint tingling along the periphery of my senses. Despite the lies. Even with those, I’m forced to admit that the lyche has been rather protective of us. Can’t discount his behavior the night of the party. A hundred other things he’s done since.

  Garthelle is standing in the spacious foyer when we walk inside. Waiting, in that deceptively casual stance of his, hands in his pockets, head canted down toward the floor. When he raises his head, yellow gaze darting over us, Blue grinds to a halt and hisses in disapproval at us.

  “Damn you both. I didn’t agree to th
is.”

  “Welcome back, mon noire, mon sanguine. I take it your venture into the metro was a successful one.”

  “More successful than you realize, Monsieur. We should discuss this in your office.” Jhez doesn’t pause, walks straight past him. I think she’s starting to learn her way around the place. Which is good.

  Or not.

  I follow after her, propelling Blue forward with a gentle hand against the center of his back. Garthelle’s gaze follows me, narrowing slightly. He turns and trails in my wake, silent as a specter.

  Jhez must’ve been wandering around a bit in her spare time, because she leads us directly to the office suite she stayed in. She likes to know her surroundings, have any number of escape routes. Ordinarily I would do the same. My focus has been elsewhere, though. Which I don’t care for. I want to believe Garthelle has had our best interests, our safety, in mind all this time. Desperately want to. Because otherwise we’re sitting in a dark room full of pit vipers.

  Blue stops just inside the doorway despite the weight of my hand against his back. Garthelle bumps into me from behind, inhales sharply and twines an arm around my waist to steady me. Aura held in tight, but his energy still hums against mine, like low-level feedback. I have to fight against the urge to go limp and lean back into him.

  Stiffening my spine and clenching my free hand into a fist, I nudge Blue forward again. When he moves forward into the room, I lower my hand and grip Garthelle’s. Give his fingers a gentle squeeze before prying him from me and twisting loose. I can’t deny the comforting sensation I gain from his presence, his close proximity. The few hours spent away were not the most pleasant ones I’ve experienced.

  “So I gave you a psychotropic drug that inhibits your ability to sense vampires. Which you shouldn’t be able to do to begin with, mind you.” Blue is prattling as he perches on the edge of the couch. He looks ready to jump in any direction in search of escape if one of us even dares say “Boo.”