Page 11

Chapter 10

G ordon didn’t think about the past a lot, or at least not about his human life. The subway rattled around him, hiding the tremors of his own, shaking hands where they rested on his knees. Jealousy, cutting you off from the world... Gordon had seen the dark turns of jealousy before, and he feared it like no other emotion, like no other ill-intended thought. And second is possessiveness, the idea that you are entitled to own someone and use them like you want, for your own pleasure while they bleed, as your punching bag.

Back in his human life... Gordon closed his eyes, blocking out the bustling subway. The memories were just there, in the darkness of his own mind where they had lived for all these years.

Paula was almost nine years older than Gordon, and growing up, Gordon had looked up to his big sister. She was funny without being mean, and she made the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Her hair was the exact same color as Gordon’s, a dark brown, radiant in the sun. Hers was long and lush, and in high school, Gordon had grown out his own because he wanted to be like his big sister. Her big smiles had made it seem like there was nothing in the world that could get her down, and even as a kid, Gordon had admired that.

Paula had loved the sun. Whenever summer came, she would bake in their parents’ yard or on the beach with her friends, and she would try to pull Gordon away from his books at least once a week.

“All that reading can’t be good for you,” she’d say, ruffling his hair, at that time still short enough to be ruffled. “They’ll make you skip another grade.”

“I don’t think all that sunbathing is good for you,” Gordon would say, but only about half the time. For the rest of it he’d roll his eyes, grab his book, and let Paula drag him with her. As a younger brother, he should have been a third wheel, a burden for the older sibling, but not for Paula. She had loved him. Gordon knew this.

Their last summer before Paula went to college had been like any other, warmth from sunrise to sundown, the sweet scent of sunscreen and clean sweat, iced tea, and tan marks from sunglasses.

“I’ll miss you,” Gordon told Paula at the end of summer, a painful sunburn making his skin tender to the point where he couldn’t find a comfy position to sleep. He’d looked like a lobster with hair, glasses, and a Beatles T-shirt.

“I’ll visit.” Paula had made a pinky promise of it. “If only to make sure you get some exposure to sunlight, you old bookworm.”

“Clearly, this is overexposure.” Gordon had picked at his peeling skin only for Paula to slap his hand and pinch his cheek. It had been the last time she had smiled a real smile at him, that very day in the sun. Gordon wished he’d hugged her longer, had hugged her closer, had never let her go.

Back in the subway, Gordon opened his eyes, letting the world in once more. Not two years after that day, Paula was dead, and it still hurt. Gordon had insisted on missing school and attending the trial, and he had never forgotten the medical examiner’s testimony, had never forgotten the detective who had tried to get Paula to leave when he had interviewed her in the hospital four months before her murder, her throat bruised by the man who’d told her he loved her, over and over, with every apology he’d made.

Gordon’s phone pulled him out of the memory for good. He answered without checking the caller ID. “Yes?”

“You sound unhappy, Gordon,” Maxim said. “Why is that?”

Gordon was both annoyed and irritated. “Because none of your business.”

Maxim used his perfect debutante sigh like a cudgel. “But I do care about my favorite corpse whisperer, so it is precisely my business. I’m headed home right now. I had cause to pay a visit to the NAPD because Adler got a love letter from our murderer. Where are you?”

Fuck. I really don’t want to see Adler right now. “Subway.”

Another sigh. “Why would one opt for the subway when they could have a handsome werewolf drive them places? Listen, head to my house, and I’ll catch you up. And then you can catch me up, hmm?”

“Since when are you so invested in my private life, Maxim? I’m really fine with a Christmas card and nothing more, you know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I told you, you are my favorite corpse whisperer, and I like to see you happy. It drastically improves your hair color.”

“Har har.”

“Aw, you laugh at my jokes! I should come by your morgue more, challenge you to video game duels.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “I’m hanging up on you now, Maxim.”

“Don’t forget to come by. About the case and the message and the mayhem we might face. And maybe you could help me select a gaming setup. Heath refuses, and people have been laughing a lot when I mentioned it.”

“Are you telling me you want my company because I’m available when no one else is?”

Maxim’s voice lifted, and a smile crept over his lips. “I am the embodiment of shallow, completely without substance. Vapid, even. You may fill me right up with your esprit, Gordon.”

“Fill you up? Are you for real?” A woman reading a paperback across from Gordon looked up pointedly before turning back to reading.

“Not in any sexual meaning of the word. Come by, we’ll discuss my trip to the NAPD over wine.”

Gordon lowered his voice. “Fine” Better than heading to the station and facing Adler.

“Delightful,” Maxim said before Gordon managed to hang up on him.

Gordon walked from the subway to 43 Ruthaven and cursed the sun. Not that he was one of the frightfully young and weak vampires that were popping up all over and likely to get second-degree burns after fifteen minutes, but too much sun still made him feel dizzy and like he should be lying down in a nice cool crypt somewhere. What would you say about that, Paula? What would you have told me if you’d still been there when I decided? Would you have tried stopping me from becoming what I am?

The foyer of 43 Ruthaven was still bright thanks to the glass walls and high ceiling, but it was also cool, and Gordon liked the plants in their tasteful pots that were friendly splashes of color against the pale marble.

The front desk was currently womanned by one of the perkiest individuals Gordon had seen in a long while. She beamed at him from feet away, the human equivalent of a lighthouse.

“Dr. Morris!” She had a chignon so neat it looked painful and wore a green blazer. “How good to have you back. You are here to see Mr. Vallois?”

She’s human, so no reason for her to know me. She must’ve seen me that first time I was here. When I met Adler at the bar . Then he spotted her name tag. “Carol. Hi. Yeah, Maxim told me to come by and meet him.”

“Wonderful, I’ll let him know you are here!” She seemed excited about the prospect. “Would you like to wait upstairs at the bar, Dr. Morris? Some of the donors should be available as well, in case you want to have a little blood.”

“Sure, why not.” Gordon wasn’t even really that hungry, and he had no plans to eat anyone, but the white lie seemed the best way to pacify Carol’s high-wattage smile.

And Carol, indeed, seemed very enthusiastic about this going by her excited nodding. “Please do and make yourself at home.”

I wonder what’s up with her? Donor-curious maybe?

Gordon took the elevator up to Morgan’s Restaurant and Wine Bar, which was what it said on the elevator’s panel. Say what you want about Maxim, but at least he doesn’t buy yachts and golf courses that don’t benefit anyone else. Morgan’s is at the very least a great place to spend time.

The bar was fairly empty. Gordon spotted one of the blood donors, marked as such by bruises on her throat, which tended not to fade as quickly, even if the bite marks could be healed by a drop of vampire blood. The donor was engrossed in a book while her lunch was getting cold. Rather than claiming one of the beautifully set tables, Gordon made a beeline for the bar and slumped down on a stool.

“Welcome,” said the bartender, who wasn’t the one who had been here that time Gordon had met Adler. Or maybe he was. I was distracted then by the werewolf hunk with jealousy issues.

The bartender was attractive with short strawberry blond hair and brown eyes. “What would you like?” he asked Gordon in a rather more sullen way than was normal for most bartenders Gordon had met. He’s certainly a stark contrast to Perky Carol.

“What’s your specialty?”

The bartender considered this. “I just make whatever you tell me to. I don’t have a specialty. I follow the recipes.”

“Oh, good grief, Clement, try to at least fake some interest in mixing drinks,” said Maxim, who had walked up to take the stool next to Gordon on quiet hunter feet. He’d said the bartender’s name in the French way, but with Maxim, it didn’t sound like an affectation. “People expect it from the person that serves them liquor. And try the occasional smile, Liebchen, I beg of you. Gordon.” Maxim nodded to Gordon in greeting. “Ask him for something with rum. I find rum always improves a person’s outlook on all of existence and their place within it.”

“Fine. Daiquiri me, Clement.”

“I second that.” Maxim motioned gracefully, and Clement trod off glumly. The hunter turned to Gordon. “He’s a Lar, just like Bryan, who you met at the desk in the lobby on your first visit. However, this one is just so...depressing, frankly. He would benefit from a permanent place to call his home. It would be one nuisance in the daily management of this place off my back, and believe me, daily anythings give me headaches like you wouldn’t believe. You could say I’ll give this one to you cheap for the price of asking.”

“Excuse me? Also, a Lar?”

Maxim nodded. “Yes, yes. Lares. Household deities, the Romans liked to call them. A lesser-known kind of our kind, if you hold with the custom of calling all those not human our kind. Lares are not creatures most humans tend to be aware of. Very rare too, which is why younglings like you aren’t aware either. Excellent at keeping everything at your home just so, unless they are pissed, of course. Also territorial, which is why Bryan is pissed and I get headaches. Bryan is our Lar, you see. Will you take him if you can’t take the detective? Clement, not Bryan. We’re very much keeping Bryan.”

Gordon snorted. “Sounds a lot like slavery, so no.” He bottled up every question he wanted to ask about another type of supernatural he knew nothing about, though he couldn’t keep himself from glancing to where the sullen, depressing and possibly depressed Lar was mixing their drinks.

The hunter propped his head on his hand. “So what did Detective Adler do? If you find poor Clement to be about as cheery as a dozen doornails, then, well, you should have seen Adler. His frown lines had frown lines, and those had baby frown lines. Clement’s excuse at least is having been burned in the literal sense only to barely make it through centuries of neglect.”

Just then, Clement set their drinks down in front of them.

“Burned?” Gordon asked.

“A long time ago. Enjoy,” the Lar said. Before he made himself scarce again, he stared at Maxim. “You are trying to get rid of me.” He glanced at Gordon. “You’re trying to throw me to the next best person.”

Maxim stirred his daiquiri with the metal straw, which produced a rattling sound of glass and ice. “Oh, Liebchen, I am just trying to get you to a nice place. Gordon has an apartment, books, collectibles, and hardly any food. And I do believe he may still qualify as single.”

Clement’s face darkened, and Gordon stared daggers at Maxim.

The Lar’s jaw barely moved when he spoke. “He doesn’t want me, I can tell that much. Why would anyone want me?”

Maxim cleared his throat. “You are quite glum, and wrong, my dear. I’m sure there’s someone out there, lovely and true, who will make rhymes of your name and give you love notes wrapped in flowers.” He glanced at Gordon. “Perhaps not this vampire.”

Clement narrowed his eyes at the hunter. “Just leave me be.”

“As you say. If you like it behind the bar, make yourself at home.”

The Lar stared for a few seconds longer. “I like it here.”

He didn’t sound like he was sure of that but as if he wanted to defy whatever fate had befallen him. Without another word, he walked off.

Maxim leaned closer to Gordon and whispered, just loud enough for another vampire to hear. “Glum and stubborn, but not at all a lost cause. Few are. Sometimes all it takes is the tiniest gleam of faith to cast the glumness out.”

Gordon sighed, purposefully not taking Maxim’s hint. “A Lar? Whatever that is can survive getting burned.”

Maxim nodded. “Yes, though not without scars, and do not change the subject on me. You were happy with that corpse and the detective eating you up with his eyes when I left, and now look at you; you look as if your fairy godmother forbade you to bruise your feet with dancing.”

Gordon picked up his daiquiri and drank. It was a good daiquiri, so he drank some more. Then he said, “Adler was jealous. We just talked about going on a date, and he was jealous I had a good time with Dr. Jackson. Working on a murder victim.”

Maxim looked at Gordon, his green eyes staring intently. Then he reached for his own drink and finished half of it in one go. He put it back down with barely a sound.

“Is it possible, Gordon, that you may be misunderstanding misguided wolfish intent? Mind you, I am but asking a question, not trying to put blame.”

Gordon looked from Maxim to his glass. “I just don’t like jealousy, is all.” And what it leads to.

Maxim shrugged. “Not all jealousy is necessarily a harm or knowingly an offense,” the hunter said. “And not all jealousy demands or automatically leads to action.”

Gordon snorted. “Says you.”

Really, I didn’t know he can stare at a person like a teacher who knows you’re lying about that missing homework. “Says I. What have you seen of jealousy that would move you to disagree?”

And he rhymes. “My sister is dead,” Gordon said, not really knowing why he said it. He hadn’t told anyone about Paula in ages. It was in his file of course, but he hadn’t felt the need to share it with another person in a very, very long time. “She was murdered by her jealous, controlling boyfriend.”

Maxim looked at him in silence before he spoke. “I am here, should you ever wish to share your pain,” the hunter said. “Domestic abuse?”

Gordon nodded.

“I see.” Maxim reached for Gordon’s hand. “Adler isn’t that kind of person, not even a little bit. I think he genuinely likes you. I also think the full moon starting tonight may have led him to genuinely misbehave. And I think you deserve happiness and to have someone in your life who doesn’t mind about the collecting. My life experience leads me to add that your sister would agree with me if she were here.”

“Says you,” said Gordon quietly, then wiped at his eyes.

“Says I.”

The ice in their drinks dissolved while neither of them spoke.

“It’s not like I’m afraid of Adler,” Gordon finally said. “I don’t know, but he just…well. He said he was jealous, and that just... It dragged up so much stuff.”

Maxim nodded. “He probably was jealous. And he likely told you as a way of being open, not knowing what the words would do.”

“I don’t want to have to deal with something like that, you know. Someone going through my phone and following me. Someone yelling at me for going out with friends only to then apologize later on and blame it on the full moon.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that, Gordon. No one should.”

“You see where I’m coming from then,” Gordon said, twisting the stem of his glass between his fingers.

“Did I ever give you the impression that I doubted you or your feelings? I don’t.”

“You keep trying to set me up with Adler though,” Gordon said.

Maxim nodded. “I know Adler and think you may be misjudging him, that is all. I also know that werewolves tend to express feelings a little differently at times, and that can lead to misunderstandings. You could safely give Adler another chance, but I certainly won’t make you if you don’t want to, Gordon. Believe it or not, I can be wonderfully supportive.” He bent in close so he could whisper in Gordon’s ear. “And you might like Clement after all. Definitely less hairy.”

Which made Gordon chuckle. “Sure. Less hairy.” Gordon took a deep breath, cleared his throat. “You mentioned a letter.”

Maxim let go of Gordon’s hand, sat up straighter. “Yes. Delivered by messenger. Officers are now trying to see if that yields a lead. The letter itself is being processed as we speak, but I have a picture.” Maxim pulled out his phone, held the device out to Gordon.

“ ‘Dear Boss ,’” Gordon read. “ ‘Have you found the broad’s uterus yet? ’ I saw that, with that same disgusting wording. It’s like one of the letters from the old Ripper case. And that?” He pointed at a string of numbers and symbols at the bottom of the page.

Maxim nodded. “It looks like a cipher. I’ll send it to Heath, but I don’t think there is necessarily anything to decipher there. Have you ever heard of the Zodiac killer?”

Gordon nodded. “Yes. Shot couples point blank and was never caught, right? No reason to assume that was a supernatural, although people suspected it.”

Maxim nodded. “Correct. At some point, authorities received a string of characters, just like these. They might even be identical, though I have yet to compare them. The cipher the Zodiac sent was never cracked. It was probably just a deranged mind trying to get everyone’s attention with a few scribbles on paper.”

“You think this is a distraction?”

Maxim shrugged. “It may well be. I’m beginning to think whatever this is might have little or nothing to do with supernaturals after all, but it’s too early to say. That being said, there is no reason not to help out the NAPD. Because what I do believe is that this individual is unlikely to just stop here.”

Gordon nodded and finished his drink. “I think you’re right about that.”