“I have a copy”—Mum points—“and there’s another one for Phillipa. One each, so you can remember your family.”
I pause my happy consideration of the photo. “What?”
Mum folds her arms. “That is what family looks like, Danika. Look at that and remember what we used to be before you broke us.”
The words pierce like a blunt spoon. I’m hunched over, gasping as if punched. “I broke? Mum—”
“I know you let that monster bite my girl. How could you? To spite me? To make sure I’ve no daughters left at all?”
Words stick in my throat. “No. Mum, that’s not…You can’t mean that.”
“You’re a sexual deviant and Phillipa is a bloodsucking monster. I’m alone.”
I grip the photo hard enough that the frame creaks. “We’re here, Mum, nothing has changed. Pippa might be…different now, but she’s still our Pip. And I’m still Danika.”
Her gaze hardens. “Not my Danika. She and my Phillipa are gone. Goodbye.”
“Mum? Mum, wait. Mum!”
Chapter Thirty-seven
“What the hell is this?”
“My hand, isn’t that a flush?”
“No, Rayne, that’s a full house. You’ve won again.”
She’s never played poker before. No idea how she’s come so far in life without ever playing Texas Hold ’Em, but today is as good a day as any to fix that.
“Ah, so cunning, you pretty vampire.” Noel drops his cards on top of the matchsticks we’re using as currency. “This is a joke, sí? That’s the third game you win. In a row.”
She shrugs. “Luck?”
“Say what you like, but no more bets.” He wheels his chair to the sink, where he splashes his face from the cold tap. “You lovely ladies keep going, but I need sleep. I leave tomorrow. Try not to miss me.”
Rayne starts to retrieve the cards. “We’ll manage.”
“You think? This is the longest I’ve seen you two stop the touching.”
“Jealous?”
He dries his face on a towel. “If I want to watch sexy ladies, I have Wi-Fi in my room.”
I toss a pillow at him. It misses by a yard. “Randy bastard.”
He wheels away, with a wave and a cackle.
Rayne puts the cards on the table and stops next to Pippa. “You’ve barely said a word all night.” Her voice is soft and gentle, nurturing. “How are you feeling?”
“What?” Pippa’s head lifts. Her eyes widen. “Did you say something?”
“Earth to Pip.” I wave my hand back and forth. “What’s up?”
Stillness follows, broken only by Rayne’s soft movements. She finishes clearing up and returns the chairs to their homes against the wall. She even changes the water in the vases left by Wendy and Jack.
Pippa sits, silent and staring, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I haven’t been outside since that night.”
The bustling stops. No more footsteps.
I look to Rayne and know my expression must match hers.
“Pip, you’ll be fine.”
“But where will I go?” Her fingers clench on my sheets. “I can’t go to Mum, and Adam won’t return my calls.”
I straighten. “You never told me that.”
“I’ve left a voicemail every night. Texts. Emails. I send them again before sunrise, but he hasn’t said a word.” A pale pink teardrop slides down her cheek. “He doesn’t want me any more, now that I’m…”
“Pippa.”
“It’s okay.” She brushes her cheeks and fluffs the thick curls of her hair. “I know I’d be dead if Rayne hadn’t done it. I just wish he’d talk to me.”
All my willpower goes into keeping my hands still. “If he hasn’t spoken to you in a week—”
“You’ll go with me.” Rayne’s soft voice carries through the room. “Not ideal, I realize that, but I’ll take care of you. I won’t do to you what Vixen did to me.”
“Go?” My hands clench. “You’re leaving?”
She avoids my gaze. “I’ve not been charged. I’m not even under arrest, but people remember me as the traitor from Vixen’s nest. I can’t stay in Angbec.”
“You can’t do this to me.”
“This isn’t about you.”
“Right, it’s about us. You think it’s not dangerous for me too? I’m a SPEAR. Do you see me running away?”
“It’s not running—”
“Bullshit.” I punch the mattress. “Whatever else Vixen did, she brought you to Angbec, and you’ve got roots now. You’ve got friends and family. Me.”
Rayne’s shoulders hunch towards her ears. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Then don’t.”
“And where will I stay? I can’t make a permanent home of your kitchen cupboards.”
“I don’t want to leave.” Pippa’s voice is low and hollow. “But my life here is gone. I can’t work for Clear Blood any more, I’ve lost my baby, Adam hates me, and Mum is…” She wipes her cheeks. “What’s left?”
I throw back the covers and swing out of bed. The movement is easy after a week here, liquid and quick, almost back to my old self. My knees wobble as I put weight on them, but I can walk freely. I fling my arms around Pippa’s neck. “I’m here.”
She stiffens, still afraid of contact, of what she might do.
“Family isn’t a house. Life isn’t your job. Both those things are what you make them, and I’m still here. I’ll never leave you. Ever.”
A hand touches my shoulder. Hesitant at first, then firm, a slow rubbing motion. Two arms slide around me and return the hug with the crushing enthusiasm only a vampire can muster. “I’m scared.”
I wipe her tears. She brushes at mine. “Me too. But we’ll manage. Like always.”
“Promise?”
I pull back to show her my smile. “On my locs and hope to trim.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
My flat looks the same as ever: a wreck.
I’m glad I insisted on coming alone. Even Norma is with Rayne and Pippa, clearly hacked off at being left behind.
But I have to do this by myself.
The flat seems so small now. There are extras to the mess on the floor, including droppings from Norma and a letter from my landlord advising me of fourteen days’ notice. Dated ten days ago. Of course.
The bedroom and bathroom are the only places remotely resembling tidy.
I stand next to the bath, remembering the last time I used it. Rayne slapping her hand over my mouth in the darkness, the explosion of fear in my chest.
Seems like a million years ago.
I fit the plug and turn the tap, watching water bubble and splash up the sides.
Won’t be long.
Back in the bedroom, I strip off the borrowed clothes from medibay and sit naked on the end of my bed. The room doesn’t even feel like mine. My things are here: the clothes, clean and dirty; the bed linen, also dirty; the handful of books, read and unread; the martial arts and action movie DVDs. But here, like back in the living room, something is missing. A feel. A sensation.
Not sure I like it.
I coil my hair on the back of my head and snag a cleanish towel from the floor.
I climb into the bath with the water still running, sinking into the liquid warmth with a sigh.
Half healed cuts tingle in the heat, the stitches in my neck already prickling in the steam.
Don’t care. It’s wonderful to lie in my own bath and just soak.
Loud thudding at the door interrupts my interlude.
Pause.
“Nope.” I sink lower until the water touches my chin. “Whoever you are, go away.”
Knock, knock, knock. Knock.
“Danika? Hello? Are you home?”
What the hell is he doing here?
I’m out of the bath in an instant, towel wrapped haphazardly around my body. My feet skid briefly before I find my grip, and then the carpet squelches with each wet step to the front door.
Jack stan
ds on the other side, leafing through a stack of typed papers. At his feet, a thick case bulges with more folders, files, and a slim laptop. He grins. “Bad time?”
I realize what I must look like. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Wouldn’t dare. I can come back if now is no good.”
How satisfying would it be to shut this door in his handsome, toothpaste ad face?
“No, you may as well come in.”
He stops dead at the entrance to the living area. “What happened in here?”
“Uninvited guest.” His look of bemused horror brings a smile to my lips. “What’s up?”
“I need to talk about the future.”
I plant my hands on my hips. Water beads on my shoulders and runs down the tops of my arms. “What future? You know I’m not—”
He waves his hand. “No, no, no, I remember.” He laughs, and though there’s a wistful edge to it—and he gives a quick skim up and down my body—he presses on. “I’ve got lots to do in the next couple of years, and I was hoping you’d help.”
“I don’t do private hire. Last experience got me in trouble.”
He stares. “Sorry, this is coming out wrong. Do you want to get dressed?”
“Really? You seem to be enjoying the view.”
“Oh, I am, but I’d rather not upset your girlfriend. She is your girlfriend?”
“Yeah, I suppose she is.” I suppose. We have yet to work out what we are.
Ten minutes later, jeans and slouchy T-shirt in place, I’m sitting on the sofa, leafing through the papers Jack dumps in my lap. “All these belonged to Amelia?”
He ruffles his hair. “Every single one. No idea yet what will happen to those businesses, but her assets have already been seized.”
“Why tell me? I’m not an accountant.”
“Some of the money and property will be converted to funds I can use in my position as mayor.” Abruptly lively, he roots through the case for some blue sheets of larger, thinner paper. “It’s something I considered years ago, when I first synthesized the Life Blood Serum—a research facility specific to vampires.” He spreads the blueprints across the floor and points to different areas in turn. “It would have a shelter, regular blood supply supplemented by the serum, and a lab for us to further our studies in vampire biology and metabolism.”
I know nothing about architecture, but even I can tell the building he has in mind is huge. “These locations are properties and land owned by Vixen.”
“Yes, she was buying up huge plots of land. I thought, to help me do this. What she actually wanted was a cattle ranch to store her pet humans.”
“You heard about that?”
“Should have known it was too good to be true.” Jack lifts his hands palm out. “Like I said, if I’d known what she was planning, I never would have accepted the help. These places in the north”—he points to another map—“were areas I planned to use for supernatural social housing.”
This man is far more forward thinking than I ever gave him credit for.
“It was all in my manifesto. Homelessness is a huge problem in Angbec, but only in supers. Since these people are recognized members of society, they need the chance to become part of the community, with real jobs and housing options. Most are easy to place, but vampires have particular needs that so far aren’t addressed. That’s why they often resort to crime.”
He’s excited now, bright-eyed, clear voiced, and focused. Not once has he made a lewd comment or ogled my body.
“Still don’t see what this has to do with me.”
“You talk to Rayne.” He leans into the sofa. A frown creases his face, and after a quick fumble, he tugs a wired bra from the cushions.
“Shut up.”
Wisely, he doesn’t comment. “I don’t know many vampires. Clear Blood is my creation, but I haven’t been involved with the day-to-day for some time. I’m changing that. I want to create things, learn and get involved, but I need people on my side who understand how vampires work. Someone I trust.”
“And you trust Rayne?”
Jack snorts. “I trust you. You’re the strongest SPEAR this city has, and I’ve seen you in action. If you say Rayne is safe to work with, that’s enough for me.”
I bite my lip. “She’s leaving with Pippa. They go tomorrow and—”
“What? Pippa too? She’s the best researcher we’ve ever had—she can’t leave. Why would they do that?”
I give him a level look.
“You’ve got to convince them to stay.”
“I’ve tried.”
“Try again. Please. I’ll give them anything they want, whatever they need. But they can’t leave this city now. I need them to make this work.”
No matter his plans, I’m sure I need them more than he ever could. But with nothing to offer them, not even this scabby old flat…
I sit straight. “I’ll ask.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“You’ll need to sweeten the deal, though.”
“Of course they’ll be paid. I can give them seats on the board, offices, cars, just tell me how to keep them here.”
I think of my old home: pencil growth marks on the walls, pictures lining the staircase, dents in the flooring. I remember the smell of frying plantain wafting into the garden at the rear, while Pippa and I played on a rickety swing set made from rough pallets and salvaged plastics.
“My lease is up. Seems my landlord doesn’t appreciate unwanted guests.”
“How long have you got?”
“Three days.”
Jack nudges the blueprints with the toe of his shoe. “I can get you a house. I know the perfect area too, it’s—”
“Actually, I know the house I want.”
“I’m not an estate agent.”
“And I’m not a recruiter. Guess we both need to expand our skill sets.”
I let the next pause stretch.
After an eternity, he extends his hand. “Fine, a house. Anything else?”
“Actually, yes.” I grasp his hand and shake it firmly. “It’s going to need some modifications.”
* * *
I wake to the soft tickle of cool breath against my ear and the tang of strong black coffee in my nose.
I turn, fumbling across my sheets until my fingers touch a warm, curved ceramic surface. “What time is it?”
“Late,” a voice whispers in my ear.
“Not helpful.” It’s dark, but not so much that I can’t see the bedside clock with its dim green digital display: 18:32.
I stretch. “You’re early.”
“A vampire is never late, Agent Karson.”
“Very funny.” I sit back against my pillows just as the light flicks on. “Ow.”
“Drink up.” Rayne stands beside my bed, a steaming mug of coffee extended towards me. Her eyes are bright and lively, her smile warm.
A flush of heat washes through my body. She’s beautiful. So, so beautiful.
She cocks her head. “What are you thinking?”
“Um…” I scramble out of bed, flinging the sheets aside to free my path to the floor. “Nothing. Too early for thinking.”
“Late.”
“It’s the night shift.”
“It’s still morning for me.”
I grunt into the coffee mug, hoping that serves as a suitable answer. “Did you sleep well?”
“Really?”
I wince. “I’m still getting used to it. Like I said, un-vamp-like vamp.”
As I sip from the mug, Rayne steps around me and begins remaking my bed. “It was fine. Like always. The insulated room is perfectly light tight, so that’s no worry. Though the access panel could be closer to the bed so I don’t walk into things when I cross the room.”
“I thought you could see in the dark.”
“Even vampires can take a little while to wake up.”
I yank a pair of jeans off the back of the chair in front of my dresser. A quick sniff assures me they’re fine to
wear a second—or is that third?—time and I toss them onto the bed. A shirt, bra, pair of panties, and T-shirt follow in the same overhand manner.
“If I’m honest…” Rayne’s voice quivers. She toys with the corners of my pillow, studiously avoiding my gaze. “I’d much prefer sleeping in here.”
The unspoken with you hangs over us like a helium balloon.
My chest tightens with desire and need, but I wash both away with another slug of coffee and a shake of the head. “We can chat room arrangements later. I need to get ready.”
Even with her back partially turned, I can feel Rayne’s disappointment. She rallies quickly and faces me with a smile. “Sure. Pippa is downstairs, so we’re ready when you are. I’ll wait with her.” As she walks by, her hand snakes out to brush my hip.
Such a little, innocent touch, but the contact lights me up in an instant.
I snag her wrist and twirl her in to face me.
Those eyes. That deep, hypnotic ripe acorn colour shimmering with a hard edge of silver.
I kiss her. Can’t help it. My mouth opens across hers, owning her, claiming her, and Rayne’s hands stretch up to link around the back of my neck. A little growl spills out, no idea if it’s mine or hers, but a sudden burst of metallic sweetness jerks us apart.
Rayne looks bashful.
I touch my lip. “Me?”
“No, I had breakfast before coming to wake you. Lifeblood seems to make the taste stronger, even to humans.”
No kidding.
“I’ll meet you downstairs.” As if sensing my conflicting thoughts, Rayne slips away without another word. I watch her go, skin tingling, mouth warm, a breathless sigh on my lips.
* * *
Ten minutes later I’m dressed and walking down the stairs with Rayne close behind.
My hand trails along the banister, skipping over dents and dints in the soft, aged wood. On my right, the wall drops back to expose the living area beneath where Pippa sits with a magazine. On my left, a line of photos follow the path of the steps: an older couple, the same couple with a baby, that couple with a younger child, then an older child with a new baby. Halfway down, the pictures have changed again, showing two girls with dark, tightly curled hair and mischievous expressions. One grows tall and willowy, the other broader and tomboyish, curls eventually giving way to spiky dreadlocks.
Both Ways Page 30
