“You don’t need to worry about Mr. Preston, Pet,” he added, as if he hadn’t meant to say it.
“Okay,” I said, and there was a warmth in my heart that made the guilt worse. I had been right: he really was doing something about it. And I was still lying to him—or at least, not telling all the truth. “It’s because you don’t want people to get hurt, isn’t it? The reason that you fight so hard against helping humans?”
“Helping humans never stops at the act,” Zero said. I don’t think he noticed, but he automatically shifted his arm across to let me lean against him. “I helped a human once, and that turned him into a vampire. From there, his sister was turned, and died.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like that’s your fault,” I protested.
“The fault can only rest with me.”
“’S’pose you think Athelas is your fault, too,” I muttered. He’d gone all stately again—though his arm was still around me, so that was something.
“Athelas is my fault,” said Zero. “He was sold to my family with the intention of being given to me when I was born.”
“You didn’t turn him into a creepy old tea-drinker.”
“That was—Pet.”
“What? You’re not gunna try to tell me he’s not a creepy old tea-drinker, are you?”
Zero’s eyelids flickered for an instant, and his eyes grew bluer. “Don’t say that where he can hear you.”
I grinned. “What am I? An idiot? You know you can’t take the responsibility for how everyone turns out, right?”
“Athelas had no chance. He was bought from his parents when he was five and trained from that time with my father to kill, protect, and serve.”
“Yeah, but that’s still not your fault.”
“For my sake, they trained him to fight by giving him something to love—a small creature, or a human friend—and then sending something to kill it.”
“That’s…” I swallowed a bit. “They gave him humans? Like a pet?”
“Something similar. Some of them he protected, but he couldn’t keep them from the Family. As soon as he became too fond of anyone, the fae made him kill them. If he didn’t, they took them and played with them until he did. It taught Athelas how soft things can die painfully, and how to kill cleanly and quickly.”
It was funny, I thought, how sick you could feel about something without even seeing it. A bit thickly, I asked, “What about you?”
“What about me? I lived an easy life. I’m the heir—and an heirling.”
I looked up at him, surprised to find tears in my eyes, and saw that he was gazing at the freezer door without really seeing it. No matter what he said, the same childhood that had scooped Athelas inside out had cut deeply with Zero, too. The coldness and the pushback against anything soft or human or emotional—I thought I might understand it a bit more.
“It’s not your fault,” I said again, fiercely.
“Because of who I am, Athelas was made into who he is.”
“Now you’re just being silly.”
Zero laughed in a huge, short rumble. “Is that so?”
“Oi.”
“If you think I’m going to answer all your questions because I’m drunk—”
I blinked a bit. “You’re actually drunk? This is you drunk?”
“The fae version of being drunk,” said Zero, shrugging. “I told you it would affect me.”
“You can say you’re not gunna answer,” I told him. “I’m just gunna ask questions. Same as usual. You can answer or not, just like usual.”
“Thank you,” said Zero, settling back against the wall again, “for your permission. Go ahead.”
“Your family—they were trying for an heirling, weren’t they? That’s why your mum was human.”
“Yes,” he said, baldly.
“Did she—what happened to her?”
“She died giving birth to me.”
I looked up at him again, and saw the deep line that cut between his brows. He didn’t believe that; it was another of those things he blamed himself for. For a fae who touted his unemotional faeness to the detriment of his more emotional human side, he was carrying a heck of a lot of baggage.
“You reckon someone killed her?”
Zero’s sigh almost sounded like a whisper of laughter. “Ah, Pet! How do you still have so many questions!”
“Well,” I said. “We’re family now. We should know at least that much about each other.”
“We’re not family. I know what happens to family.”
He said that, but his arm was still around me. I was pretty sure that was his chin resting on the top of my head, too.
“Yeah, but you still need family,” I argued. “Look at me; I had a family, and I turned out all right. I’m still alive.”
“You’re a pet.”
“Well, yeah. But I don’t go around being rude to everyone.”
A breath of laughter stirred the hair at the top of my head. “Yes you do.”
“Okay, but I don’t go around being nasty rude to people. I’m a good pet.”
“You’re a troublesome pet,” he said. “Please…please stop trying to die. We can take care of the Sandman, the perytons, and the Mr. Prestons. There’s no need for you to die, too.”
“Too late,” I said. “Athelas already killed me six times. Anyway, you said that if I stayed behind you, you’d make sure I didn’t die, but these days you keep going out and leaving me at home. How am I supposed to stop dying if I can’t be behind you?”
“I know,” he said. “But that was…necessary.”
“Yeah, I figured. How come?”
“I’m slightly drunk, not very drunk.”
“Wanna know what I reckon?”
“No more suppositions, Pet,” Zero said, but I felt him laugh even though I didn’t hear it.
“You should be drunk more often,” I told him. “Oi. You said that if the Behindkind is important enough, charges get dropped in Behindkind courts.”
“If they’re ever upheld to begin with,” Zero said. There was a kind of quiet futility to the words that almost made me regret asking him about it. He’d been happy a moment before—or maybe just amused, or content.
“That’s why there was someone,” I said, because it was too late to stop the frown from deepening between his brows. “That’s why there was someone, like Athelas said. Someone going around making sure people were brought to justice.”
“For a time, there were two. The Behindkind law wasn’t able to do anything about the two of them because it was lawful for them to do what they were doing. But it wasn’t popular.”
“Someone killed them, I suppose,” I said gloomily.
“One died. The other…well, I suppose he died, too, in a way. No more, Pet,” he added. His voice had a sticky, almost sleepy sound to it, but it was final. “That is enough questioning. Enough talking.”
“Yeah, don’t want you to injure yourself,” I said. “You didn’t even stretch first.”
I hoped that would get another deep rumble of laughter, but it didn’t. The only rumble I got was a faint snore from where the heaviness of Zero’s head leaned against the top of my head.
Chapter Thirteen
It was too early in the day when someone knocked at the front door, but at least it wasn’t a knock at the linen closet. After the other night, Zero had woken up with what I guessed must be his version of a hangover. He shouldered his way back to our house without speaking a word, me trotting after him as usual, and brought us back into the human world to face the raised brows of Athelas and the scowls of JinYeong.
For the rest of the morning, he alternately moved around the house without speaking a word more than necessary, ignored me almost completely, and sat in his chair, sharpening knives.
I didn’t like to think what he’d do to visitors coming through the linen cupboard door.
Come to think of it, I didn’t fancy the chances of visitors coming through the front door, either. Not even ones who had been po
lite enough to knock.
None of the psychos told me not to open the door this time, though, so I went to open it and found Detective Tuatu outside.
“Hey,” I said, opening the door. “You got a death wish today, or something?”
“Someone gave me a little tree that looks after me,” he said. “I’m fine. Why? Are they particularly annoyed today?”
“You know the dryad only works at home, right?”
“Yeah, but I figure if you can live with those three, I can come and see them every now and then. I’ve got a few questions for them, anyway. Officially.”
“Come in, then,” I said, and yelled down the hall, “Detective Tuatu’s here! Officially!”
JinYeong, who had just descended the stairs, made a disparaging sort of noise that might have been some kind of greeting, and continued on to the kitchen. He was probably going for one of his blood bags—he always did drink more when he was annoyed. That meant he was going to be more irritating than usual tonight. JinYeong starved of blood was dangerous and snarly, all liquid eyes and flashing teeth, but JinYeong when he had just fed was more irritating—warm, invasive in a deliberately provocative way, and inclined to purr destructive comments into the warm living room to stir up whoever was most likely to fight back.
Neither Athelas nor Zero replied at all, but Athelas at least looked up when we came into the living room.
“How delightful to see you again,” he said. “We have something further to discuss.”
“Do we?” asked Tuatu, looking uneasy.
I didn’t blame him—I felt pretty uneasy myself, but there was nothing I could do about it. Detective Tuatu had hastily said something when he first met Athelas that I had reason to think he’d regret before long. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be in debt to any fae, but I definitely wouldn’t want to be in debt to Athelas.
“Certainly we do,” said Athelas. “I’ll remind you of it again, one of these days.”
“Thanks,” Tuatu said, and he still sounded like he wasn’t sure about how thankful he ought to be. “Anyway, I’ve come to ask you a few questions about a body we’ve found.”
“How uninteresting!” Athelas sighed, but he looked amused.
Undeterred, the detective said to Zero, “Someone had been watching him for a while—we found their little lair this morning. There were photos all over the wall, and an itinerary of his usual movements.”
“What has that got to do with us?” asked Zero, without looking up. “I’ve told you—”
“I know. You investigate the crimes you want to investigate,” Tuatu said, his voice rougher with the same kind of annoyance that made my own heart burn. “But he came here before he died. He was here for a while, too, if the pictures are anything to go by.”
A glossy photo caught the light as he pulled it out of the inner pocket of his jacket.
“Give it to me!” said Zero sharply, but it was too late.
I’d already seen it. I’d seen the receding hairline, the threading of grey, the unpleasantly pinched expression of the man’s face.
It was Mr. Preston.
“He’s dead?” I said, in shock. He couldn’t be dead, because Zero had said…Zero had said—
“Perhaps it would be helpful if you fetched tea and coffee, Pet,” said Athelas’ voice, low with warning, though I wasn’t sure if the warning was for me or for others in the room.
“That’s Mr. Preston,” I said to Detective Tuatu, and it wasn’t a question. “He’s really dead?”
Tuatu turned his gaze on me. “Did they know him as well? Is that why he’s dead?”
“Didn’t you—” I stopped, thoughts and emotions swelling. “No, but I thought you sent him. And how is he dead? Zero—”
“Get him out,” Zero said, his voice icy. He had gone back to his knife sharpening, motions short and gritty against the knife.
JinYeong left the kitchen in two light steps to seize Detective Tuatu by the collar, and dragged him, backwards and protesting, right through the front door.
“Oi!” I yelled, and started toward the door. It was already too late, of course; I felt the movement of Between as JinYeong drew the detective right into it, and all sense of them disappeared completely when it shut itself.
I stood staring at the shut door while anger grew and heated behind my eyes. It seemed that I could hear, as a kind of a refrain to the constant, rhythmic sweep of a knife being sharpened, Zero’s voice saying You don’t need to worry about Mr. Preston, Pet.
You don’t need to worry.
No need to worry.
And suddenly, in the quiet comfort of my house, a sickening change was growing.
“Pet.”
I turned on my heel, ignoring Athelas, who had spoken my name, and stalked across the carpet until I was in front of Zero.
You don’t need to worry about Mr. Preston, Pet.
My voice sounded choked when I said, “I trusted you!”
Zero refused to look away from the knife he was sharpening, and somehow that made me angrier.
“I told you I wouldn’t help him.”
“You always say that, and you always help.”
“I’ve only helped you. One human. We have a deal.”
My throat hurt with an ache that was sharp and deep. “You were supposed to be better than that.”
“You were supposed to follow orders,” said Zero, so quietly I almost couldn’t hear him.
“Pet,” said Athelas, his voice silky with warning. “Now is a time for tea, not talking.”
“No tea for you!” I said hotly.
Zero’s rumble shook the table. “Pet, coffee.”
“I’m not going to make coffee for you!” I shouted at him. “You let a bloke die! You were supposed to be better than that!”
Zero looked up, and his voice was more hasty than icy when he said, “If you feel as though you can’t restrict yourself to my orders, perhaps you should leave now.”
“Yeah?” I said, and I wasn’t sure if the molten heat I felt in my stomach was the fury of disappointment, or just actual fury. “Maybe I should.”
“Mwoh?” said JinYeong’s very startled voice, from the hallway. “Petteu, mwoh hae?”
“Be very careful what you say from now,” Zero said, after a staticky kind of silence. “If you utterly refuse to do as you’re told, our contract ends now.”
“Pet, I really do advise—”
“You gunna tell me to ignore someone who needs help again?” I asked.
“That’s my right. If you want your house, it’s your duty to obey.”
“Can’t do it. You might as well—” I stopped and swallowed against a sharp pain in my throat. My house. I had to keep my house. But how could I? “You might as well just kick me out now. Because next time someone asks for help, I’m gunna give it to them.”
“Humans are not our concern!”
“Maybe not yours, but they are mine.”
“Pet—”
“There’s gotta be someone looking out for them. You lot sure as heck aren’t doing it.”
“You don’t have the skills to look after anyone,” Zero said. “You’ve barely stayed alive by the skin of your teeth these last few months.”
“Yeah, ’cos there was someone looking out for me,” I said. “I might not have the skills, but I’ve got some of the knowledge now—and if I see something and don’t do something about it, how am I better off alive instead of dead? What’s the good of me if I don’t do what I can do? I already lived like a rat in a hole for four years.”
“Pet,” said Zero, his eyes lightest blue and mesmerising. “Tell me you’ll obey me.”
I looked into those eyes and saw a message there. Echoing it, Athelas murmured, “All you have to do is say you’ll obey my lord, Pet.”
And in Athelas’ smooth murmur, I heard the promise that so long as I wasn’t caught, I could keep doing what I wanted to do. I could speak my obedience, and keep doing what I thought best, safe in my protection.
I
laughed a bit, taking myself by surprise, because it was so much like Athelas.
“I’m not here to help humans,” Zero said. “I won’t throw away the time, or lives, or—or—”
“Emotion?”
“Energy. I won’t throw away the energy I could use to do something else, into saving creatures who will die a day later doing something stupid.”
I pressed my palm against my chest, just below the collar-bone, where it ached. Wish it wouldn’t hurt so much. “So then what stops you from telling me to kill someone next time?”
“I won’t tell you to kill someone.”
“Might as well,” I said, and there was just a thread of voice left to me. Ah heck, I was tired. “If I’m gunna agree to not helping people who’re going to die if I don’t help, might as well kill ’em myself.”
“Petteu,” said JinYeong, from across the room, his voice as commanding and clear as the words themselves. “I wish to eat. You should make kimchi rice.”
All the blood in me tugged me toward that voice—or maybe it was just the vampire saliva still in me that drew me—and I nearly took a step in his direction. I looked up and saw his eyes on me, liquid and dark and pleading where his voice was demanding.
“Don’t do that,” I said, shaken. “Don’t try and make me do stuff I don’t want to do. You’re not my pack.”
“Yah, Petteu. Wae gurolkka?”
“Eat before you go, Pet,” said Athelas, the quiet voice of reason. “We’ll discuss it over a meal.”
“Nah,” I said. If I didn’t go now, I’d give an excuse, and then another. If I wanted to keep my humanity—if I wanted to be able to do the right thing—I had to go now. “Lost my appetite.”
I passed JinYeong as I went down the hall to the front door, and there was the faintest tug at the cuff of my hoodie. I twitched away from it without stopping, and his voice said, still shocked, “Non kalgoya? Chinchalo?”
I didn’t stop for that faint tug, either. I just said, “Yeah, looks like I’m going.”
I don’t remember if I opened the door or if Zero opened it for me without crossing the room—or even if I walked right through it, Between. But I was out on the street a moment later, the brightness of early evening a shock all around me, and a huge, hot wetness behind my eyes.
Between Frames (The City Between Book 4) Page 21
