You want the update on tonight? Xhex asked.
Not yet. Got a little news of my own to share. Forcing his head into gear, he looked at Trez and iAm. What Im about to say will make things very messy, and I want to give you both a chance to leave. Xhex, you dont get that option. Sorry.
Trez and iAm stayed put, which did not surprise him in the slightest. Trez also popped a middle finger at him. Not a shocker either.
I went to Connecticut, Rehv said.
You also went to the clinic, Xhex added. Why?
GPS sucked sometimes. Hard to have any privacy. Forget the fucking clinic. Listen, I need you to do a job for me.
Job as in?
Think of Chrissys boyfriend as a cocktail before dinner.
This got a cold smile out of her. Tell me.
He stared at the point of the envelope opener, thinking that he and Wrath had laughed because they both had one: The king had come in to visit after the raids during the summer, to discuss council business, and had seen the thing out on the desk. Wrath had joked that in their day jobs they both led by the blade, even if they had a pen in their hands.
Wasnt that the truth. Although Wrath had morality on his side and Rehv had only self-interest.
So it was not with virtue that hed made his decision and chosen the course. It was, as usual, what benefited him most.
Its not going to be easy, he murmured.
The fun ones never are.
Rehv focused on the sharp point of the opener. This oneis not for fun.
With the night closing down and her shift ending, Ehlena was antsy. Date time. Decision time. The male was supposed to come and pick her up at the clinic in twenty minutes.
God, she was back to waffling again.
His name was Stephan. Stephan, son of Tehm, although she didnt know him or his family. He was a civilian, not an aristocrat, and hed come in with his cousin, whod cut his hand splitting logs for firewood. While shed been doing the discharge paperwork, shed talked to Stephan about the kinds of things single people talked about: He liked Radiohead; she did, too. She liked Indonesian food; he did, too. He worked in the human world, doing computer programming, thanks to virtual commuting. She was a nurse, duh. He lived at home with his parents, the only son in a solidly civilian family-or at least theyd sounded solidly civilian, his father doing construction for vampire contractors, his mother teaching the Old Language freelance.
Nice, normal. Trustworthy.
Considering what the aristocrats had done to her fathers sanity, she figured that all seemed like a good bet, and when Stephan had asked her out for a coffee, shed said yes, theyd agreed on tonight, and exchanged cell phone numbers.
But what was she going to do? Call him and say she couldnt because of a family situation? Go anyway, and worry about her father?
A quick call to Lusie from the locker room, though, and the news from home was favorable: Ehlenas father had had a long rest and was now calmly working on his papers at his desk.
Half an hour at an all-night diner. Maybe a shared scone. What was the harm?
As she decided to go once and for all, she didnt appreciate the image that flashed through her mind. Rehvs bare chest with those red star tattoos on it was not what she needed to be thinking about as she resolved to go on a date with another male.
What she needed to concentrate on was getting out of her uniform and at least nominally improving her appearance.
With the overday staff funneling in and those who had been on during the night leaving, she changed from her uniform into the skirt and sweater shed brought with her-
Shed forgotten her shoes.
Great. White crepe soles were so sexy.
Whats wrong? Catya said.
She turned around. Any chance these two white boats on my feet dont totally ruin this outfit?
Erhonestly? Theyre not that bad.
You so dont lie well.
I gave it a shot.
Ehlena packed her uniform into her bag, redid her hair, and checked the makeup situation. Of course, shed forgotten her eyeliner and mascara as well, so the cavalry was out of horses on that front, so to speak.
Im glad youre going, Catya said as she erased the night roster from the whiteboard.
Considering youre my boss, that makes me nervous. Id rather have you happy to see me coming into the clinic.
No, its not about work. Im glad youre going out tonight.
Ehlena frowned and looked around. By some miracle, they were alone. Who says Im going anywhere but home?
A female going home doesnt change out of her uniform here. And she doesnt worry about how her footwear goes with her skirt. Ill spare you the who-is-he.
Thats a relief.
Unless you want to volunteer?
Ehlena laughed out loud. No, Id rather keep it private. But if it goes anywhereIll spill.
And Ill keep you to that. Catya went over to her locker and just stared at it.
You okay? Ehlena said.
I hate this damn war. I hate having the dead come in here, and seeing the pain they went through on their faces. Catya opened the locker and got busy getting her parka out. Sorry, dont mean to be a downer.
Ehlena went over and put her hand on the females shoulder. I know just how you feel.
There was a moment between them as their eyes clung to each others. And then Catya cleared her throat.
Right, off you go. Your male awaits.
Hes picking me up here.
Ohhh, maybe Ill just hang around and have a cigarette outside.
You dont smoke.
Drat, foiled again.
On her way to the exit, Ehlena checked in at the registration desk to make sure there was nothing else she needed to do with the handoff to the new shift. Satisfied everything was in order, she went through the doors and up the stairs until she was finally free of the clinic.
The night was out of the cool zip code and into chill city, the air smelling blue to her, if the color did indeed have a scent: There was just something so fresh and icy and clear as she breathed deep and exhaled in soft clouds. With each inhale, she felt as if she were taking the sapphire sprawl of the heavens above into her lungs and that the stars were sparks skipping through her body.
As the last of the nurses departed, dematerializing or driving off, depending on what they had planned, she said good-bye to the stragglers. Then Catya came and went.
Ehlena stamped her feet and checked her watch. The male was ten minutes late. No big deal.
Leaning back against the aluminum siding, she felt her blood sing in her veins, an odd freedom swelling in her chest as she thought about going out somewhere with a male on her own-
Blood. Veins.
Rehvenge hadnt had his arm treated.
The thought slammed into her head and lingered like the echo of a big noise. He hadnt dealt with that arm. There had been nothing in the record about the infection, and Havers was as scrupulous about his notes as he was about the staff uniforms and the cleanliness of the patient rooms and the organization of the supply closets.
When shed come back from the pharmacy with the drugs, Rehvenge had had his shirt on and done up at the cuffs, but shed assumed that was because the examination had been finished. Now she was willing to bet hed put it on right after shed finished taking the blood.
Exceptit was none of her business, was it. Rehvenge was an adult male well within his rights to make poor decisions about his health. Just like that drug overdose who had barely survived the night, and just like the any number of patients who nodded a lot when the doctor was in front of them, but who went home and were noncompliant about their prescriptions or their aftercare.
There was nothing she could do to save someone who didnt want to be rescued. Nothing. And that was among the biggest tragedies in her work. All she could do was present options and consequences and hope the patient chose wisely.
A breeze rolled in, shooting right up her skirt and making her envy Rehvenges fur coat. Leaning out from the side of the clinic, she tried to see down the drive, looking for headlights.
Ten minutes later, she checked her watch again.
And ten minutes after that, she lifted her wrist once more.
Shed been stood up.
It wasnt a surprise. The date had been so hastily thrown together, and they didnt really know each other, did they.
As another cold breeze tackled her, she took out her cell phone and texted: Hi, Stephan-sorry to have missed you tonight. Maybe some other time. E.
She put her phone back in her pocket and dematerialized home. Instead of going right in, she burrowed into her cloth coat and paced up and back on the cracked sidewalk that ran down the side of the house to the rear door. As the frigid wind kicked up again, a blast hit her face.
Her eyes stung.
Turning her back to the gust, wisps of her hair feathered forward as if they were trying to flee the chill, and she shivered.
Great. Now when her vision got watery, she didnt have the excuse of the stiff breeze.
God, was she crying? Over what could just be some misunderstanding? With a guy she barely knew? Why did it matter so much to her?
Ah, but it wasnt him at all. The problem was her. She hated that she was where she had been when shed left the house: alone.
Trying to get a grip, literally, she reached out for the handle of the back door, but couldnt bring herself to go in. The image of that crappy, too-ordered kitchen, and the remembered sound of those creaky stairs going to the cellar, and the dusty, papery smell of her fathers room were as familiar as her reflection in any mirror. Tonight it was all too clear, a brilliant flashlight nailing her in both eyes, a roaring sound in her ears, an overwhelming stench bombarding her nose.
She dropped her arm. The date had been a get-out-of-jail-free card. A raft off the island. A hand reached over the cliff she was hanging off of.
The desperation snapped her into focus like nothing else could. She had no business going out with anyone if that was her attitude. It wasnt fair to the guy or healthy for her. When Stephan hit her up again, if he did, she was just going to say she was too busy-
Ehlena? You okay?
Ehlena jumped back from the door that had evidently just opened wide. Lusie! Sorry, justjust thinking too much. Hows Father doing?
Fine, honestly fine. Hes sleeping again now.
Lusie stepped out of the house and closed off the escaping heat from the kitchen. After two years, she was an achingly familiar figure, her boho clothes and her long salt-and-pepper hair comforting. As usual, she had her medicine bag in one hand and her big purse hanging off her opposite shoulder. Inside the medicine bag there was a standard-issue blood pressure cuff, a stethoscope, and some low-level medications-all of which Ehlena had seen put to use. Inside the purse there was the New York Times crossword puzzle, some Wrigleys spearmint gum she liked to chew, a wallet, and the peach lipstick she slipped across her lips on a regular basis. Ehlena knew about the crossword puzzle because Lusie and her dad did them together, the gum because of the wrappers that went into the trash, and the lipstick was self-evident. She was guessing on the wallet.
How are you? Lusie waited, her gray eyes clear and focused. Youre back a little early.
He stood me up.
The way Lusies hand landed on Ehlenas shoulder was what made the female a great nurse: With one touch she conveyed comfort and warmth and empathy, all of which worked to reduce blood pressure and heart rate and agitation.
All of which helped the mind unscramble.
Im sorry, Lusie said.
Oh, no, its better this way. I mean, Im looking for too much.
Really? You sounded pretty levelheaded to me when you told me about it. You were just going for coffee-
For some reason she spoke the truth: Nope. I was looking for a way out. Which wont ever happen, because I will never leave him. Ehlena shook her head. Anyway, thank you so much for coming-
It doesnt have to be an either-or situation. Your father and you-
I really appreciate your coming early tonight. It was good of you.
Lusie smiled in the way Catya had earlier in the evening, tightly, sadly. Okay, Ill drop it, but Im right on this. You can have a relationship and still be a good daughter to your father. Lusie glanced over at the door. Listen, youre going to have to watch that sore on his leg. The one he did on that nail? I put a new dressing on, but Im worried about it. I think its getting infected.
I will, and thank you.
After Lusie dematerialized, Ehlena went into the kitchen, locked the door and bolted it, and headed down to the basement.
In his room, her father was asleep in his huge Victorian bed, the massive carved headboard like the framing arch of a tomb. His head was against a stack of white silk pillows, and the bloodred velvet duvet was folded precisely halfway down his chest.
He looked like a king in repose.
When the mental illness had really grabbed hold of him, his hair and beard had gone white, causing Ehlena to worry that the end-of-life changes were going to start in on him. But after fifty years, he still looked the same, his face unwrinkled, his hands strong and steady.
It was so hard. She couldnt imagine life without him. And she couldnt imagine having a life with him.
Ehlena closed his door partway and went into her own room, where she showered and changed and stretched out on her bed. All she had was a twin with no headboard, one pillow, and cotton sheets, but she didnt care about the luxury stuff. She needed a place to lay her tired bones each day and that was it.
Usually she read a little before falling asleep, but not today. She just didnt have the energy. Reaching to the side, she turned off the lamp, crossed her feet at the ankles, and laid her arms out straight.
With a smile, she realized she and her father slept in exactly the same position, didnt they.
In the dark, she thought about Lusie and the way she followed through about her fathers cut. Good nursing was about being concerned for the welfare of patients, even after they left. It was about coaching family members as to what follow-up care was needed, and being a resource.
It wasnt the kind of job you just dumped because your shift was over.
She turned the lamp back on with a click.
Getting up, she went over to the desktop shed gotten for free from the clinic when the IT systems had been upgraded. The Internet was slow to connect, as always, but eventually she was able to access the clinics medical files database.
She signed in with her password, performed one searchthen another. The first was a compulsion, the second a curiosity.
Saving them both, she shut down the laptop and picked up her phone.
ELEVEN
At the razors edge of dawn, just before the light began to gather in the eastern sky, Wrath took form in the dense woods at the northern side of the Brotherhoods mountain. No one had showed back at Hunter-bred, and the days imminent rays had forced him to leave.
Small sticks cracked loudly under his shitkickers, the thin pine fingers brittle in the cold. There was not yet snow to muffle the sounds, but he could smell it in the air, feel that frosty bite deep in his sinuses.
The hidden entrance to the Black Dagger Brotherhoods sanctum sanctorum was at the ass end of a cave, far in the back. His hands located the trigger on the stone door by feel, and the heavy portal slid behind the rock wall. Stepping onto smooth black marble pavers, he followed them forward as the door closed behind him.
At his will, torches flamed up on either side of him, extending far, far, far into the distance and illuminating the massive iron gates that had been installed in the late eighteenth century, when the Brotherhood had turned this cave into the Tomb.
As he got closer, the gates thick slats seemed to his blurry vision to be a lineup of armed sentries, the flickering flames animating what did not in fact move. With his mind, he parted the two halves and continued on, down a long hall fitted from floor to forty-foot ceiling with shelving.
Lesser jars of all types and kinds were stacked side by side, a display that marked generations of kills made by the Brotherhood. The oldest jars were nothing but crude, hand-thrown vases that had been brought over from the Old Country. With each yard farther, the vessels grew more modern, until you got to the next set of gates and found mass-produced shit made in China and sold at Target.
There wasnt a lot of space left on the shelves and he was depressed by that. He had helped build with his own hands this repository of the enemys dead, along with Darius and Tohrment and Vishous, the bunch of them laboring for a month straight, working during the day, sleeping on the marble pavers. He had been the one to decide how far down into the earth to go, and he had extended the shelving corridor yards and yards past what he had thought was needed. When he and his brothers had finished erecting everything, and had stacked the older jars, hed been convinced that they wouldnt need so much storage space. Surely by the time they had filled even three-quarters of this, the war would be over.
And here he was, centuries later, trying to find enough room.
With a dreaded sense of portent, Wrath measured with his bad eyes the last remaining spaces on the original set of shelving. It was hard not to take it as evidence that the war was coming to an end, that the vampire equivalent of the finite Mayan calendar was on these rough-hewn stone walls.
It was not with victorys glow of success that he envisioned the final jar being set up next to the others.
They were either going to run out of race to protect or run out of Brothers to do the protecting.
Wrath took the three jars out of his jacket and placed them together in a little group; then he stepped back.
He had been responsible for a lot of these jars. Before hed become king.
I already knew that you have been out fighting.
Wraths head shot around at the sound of the Scribe Virgins commanding voice. Her Holiness was hovering just inside the iron gates, her black robes about a foot off the stone floor, her light shining out from beneath the hems.
It had once been blindingly bright, that glow of hers. Now it barely cast shadows.
Wrath turned back to the jars. So thats what V meant. About pulling the trigger on me.
My son came to me, yes.
But you already knew. And thats not a question, by the way.
Yeah, she hates those.
Wrath looked over and watched V step through the gates.
Well, check this shit out, Wrath uttered. The mother and son reunionis only a moment away. He let the paraphrased lyric drift. Not.
The Scribe Virgin came forward, moving slowly past the jars. Back in the old days-or, hell, as recently as the year before-she would have assumed control of the conversation. Now she just floated along.
V made a disgusted noise, like hed waited long enough for his Mommie Dearest to no-more-wire-hanger his king, and wasnt impressed that she hadnt manned up. Wrath, you didnt let me finish.
And you think I will now? He reached up and fingered the lip of one of the three jars hed added to the collection.
You will let him finish, the Scribe Virgin said, her tone disinterested.
Vishous strode forward, his shitkickers solid against the floor he himself had helped lay. My point was, if youre going to go out, do it with backup. And tell Beth. Otherwise youre a liarand you have a better chance of leaving her a widow. Damn it to hell, ignore my vision, fine. But at least be practical.
Wrath paced up and back, thinking that the setting for this convo was too fucking perfect: He was surrounded by evidence of the war.
Eventually, he stopped in front of the three jars hed gotten tonight. Beth thinks that Im going upstate to meet with Phury. You know, to work with the Chosen. The lying sucks. But the idea we only have four Brothers in the field? Worse.
There was a long silence, during which the chattering flicker of the torch flames was the only sound.
V broke the quiet. I think you need to have a meeting with the Brother hood, and come clean with Beth. Like I said, if youre going to fight, fight. But do it with full disclosure, true? That way youre not out alone. And neither are any of us. Right now when rotation hits, someone ends up fighting without a partner. Your coming in legit would solve that.
Wrath had to smile. Christ, if Id thought you would agree with me, I might have said something sooner. He looked over at the Scribe Virgin. But what about the laws. Tradition.
The mother of the race turned to face him and in a distant voice said, So much has changed. What is one more. Be well, Wrath, son of Wrath, and Vishous of mine womb.
The Scribe Virgin disappeared like breath in the cold night, dissipating into the ether as if shed never been.
Wrath leaned back against the shelving, and as his head started to pound, he popped up his sunglasses and rubbed his useless eyes. When he stopped, he shut his lids and grew as still as the stone that surrounded him.
You look beat, V murmured.
Yes, he was, wasnt he. And how sad was that.
Drug dealing was a very lucrative business.
In his private office at ZeroSum, Rehvenge went over the nights receipts at his desk, meticulously checking off the amounts to the penny. iAm was doing the same over at Sals Restaurant, and the first order of business at each nightfall was to meet here and compare results.
Most of the time they came up with the same total. When they didnt, he defered to iAm.
Between the alcohol, drugs, and sex, gross receipts were over two hundred and ninety thousand for ZeroSum alone. Twenty-two people worked at the club on salary, including ten bouncers, three bartenders, six prostitutes, Trez, iAm, and Xhex; costs for them all ran about seventy-five grand a night. Bookies and authorized floor dealers, meaning those drug pushers he allowed to sell on his premises, were on commission, and whatever was left after theyd taken their cut was his. Also, every week or so, he or Xhex and the Moors executed major product deals with a select number of distributors who had their own drug networks either in Caldwell or in Manhattan.
All told, and after personnel costs, he had roughly two hundred thousand a night to pay the cost of the drugs and alcohol that he sold, cover heat and electricity and capital improvements, and take care of the cleaning crew of seven that came in at five a.m.
Every year he cleared about fifty million from his businesses-which sounded obscene, and it was, especially considering he paid taxes on only a fraction of it. The thing was, drugs and sex were risky businesses, but the profit potential was enormous. And he needed money. Badly. Keeping his mother in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed and well deserving of was a multimillion-dollar proposition. Then he had his own homes, and every year he traded his Bentley in as soon as the new models were available.
By far, however, the single highest personal expense he had came in small black velvet bags.
Rehv reached out over his spreadsheets and picked up the one that had been couriered up from the Big Apples diamond district. The deliveries arrived on Mondays now-used to be the last Friday of the month, but with the Iron Mask opening up, ZeroSums closed day had switched to Sundays.
He pulled the satin cord loose and opened the bags throat, dumping out a glittering palmful of rubies. Quarter of a million dollars in blood stones. He poured them back into the pouch, tied the cording in a tight knot, and looked at his watch. About sixteen hours before he had to go up north.
First Tuesday of the month was ransom time, and he paid the princess off in two ways. One was gemstones. The other was his body.
He made it cost her, though.
The thought of where he was going and what he was going to have to do made the back of his neck tingle, and he wasnt surprised when his vision began to change, dark pinks and bloodreds replacing the blacks and whites of his office, his visual field bulldozing out into a flat plane.
Popping open a drawer, he took out one of his lovely new boxes of dopamine and grabbed the syringe hed used the last couple of times hed shot up in the office. Rolling up the sleeve of his left arm, he tourniqueted the middle of his biceps out of habit, not necessity. His veins were so swollen it was as if moles had burrowed under his skin, and he felt a stab of satisfaction at the mess they were in.
There was no cap on the needles head to take off, and he filled the syringes belly with the practice of a habitual user. It took him a while to find a vein that was viable, pushing the tiny steel shaft into himself again and again without feeling a thing. He knew he finally hit the right spot when he drew back on the plunger and saw blood mix with the clear solution of the drug.
As he freed the tourni and started to push his thumb home, he stared at the rot in his arm and thought of Ehlena. Even though she didnt trust him and didnt want to be attracted to him and would clearly move heaven and earth not to go out with him, she still wanted to be a savior. She still wanted what was best for him and his health.
That was what you called a female of worth.
He was halfway through the injection when his cell phone went off. A quick glance at the screen showed that the number wasnt one he recognized, so he let the call go. The only people who had his digits were ones he wanted to talk with, and that was a damn short list: his sister, his mother, Xhex, Trez, and iAm. And the Brother Zsadist, his sisters hellren.
That was it.
As he pulled the needle out of his vascular cesspool, he cursed as a beep indicated that voice mail had been left. He got those every once in a while, people leaving bits and pieces of their lives in his little corner of technospace, thinking it was someone elses. He never called them back, never texted them with a, This is not who you think it is. Theyd figure it out when whoever they thought they were calling didnt return the favor.
Closing his eyes and easing back in his chair, he tossed the syringe onto the spreadsheets and couldnt care less if the drug worked.
Sitting alone in his den of iniquity, in the quiet hour after everyone had left and before the cleaning staff came in, he just didnt give a shit whether the flat plane of his vision returned to three dimensions. Didnt care if the full-color spectrum reappeared. Didnt wonder with each passing second whether or not he was going to get back to normal.
This was a change, he realized. Up until now hed always been desperate for the drug to work.
What had turned the tide?
He let the question hang as he picked up his cell phone and palmed his cane. With a groan, he stood up carefully and walked into his private bedroom. The numbness was coming back fast in his feet and legs, quicker than during the ride in from Connecticut, but then, that was par for the course. The less his symphath urges were triggered, the better the drug worked. And gee, funny, getting tapped to cap the king had riled him up.
Whereas sitting by himself in a home, of sorts, didnt.
The security system was already on in the office, and he triggered a second one for his private quarters, then shut himself in the windowless bedroom he crashed in from time to time. The bathroom was across the way and he dumped his sable duster on the bed before going in and turning the shower on. As he moved around, bone-deep cold settled into his body, emanating from the inside out, as if hed injected himself with Freon.
This he did dread. He hated always being cold. Shit, maybe he should have just let himself go. It wasnt like he was going to be interacting with anyone.
Yeah, but if he got too far behind in his doses, the catch-up was a bitch.
Steam billowed free from behind the glass shower door, and he stripped naked, leaving his suit and tie and shirt on the marble counter between the two sinks. Stepping under the spray, he shivered hard, his teeth rattling.
For a moment, he collapsed back against the smooth marble walls, keeping himself in the center of the four showerheads. As hot water he couldnt feel cascaded down his chest and abs, he tried not to think about what the following night was bringing and failed.
Oh, Goddid he have it in him to do it again? Go up there and whore himself out to that bitch?
Yeah, and the alternative washer reporting him as a symphath to the council and getting his ass deported up to that colony.