A Dark-Adapted Eye (9 page)

Why would Ivory knock? I wondered at the last second.

Of course he wouldn’t, and it wasn’t him at the door.

It was my father.

seven

p
enumbra: the area of partial illumination surrounding the darkest part of a shadow caused by an eclipse

I last saw my dad when I was fourteen. He was the reason I’d started escaping up to the roof, wanting to avoid him yelling at me for no reason other than he felt like it. I was able to avoid most of his rages that way, but because of my cowardice, it was Ivory and my mom who usually experienced his verbal wrath.

I’d been home alone most of the day, singing along to some CDs at the top of my lungs and inventing dance moves. When he came home unexpectedly early, reeking of cigarette smoke and liquor, he shouted at me to turn the music down. I snapped it off, scowling, and slunk into the kitchen. He flopped down on the couch with a series of loud grunts and turned on the TV, vo
lume unnecessarily high.

He had never been much of a father to us. He was hardly ever home and when he was, all he wanted was to be left alone. He worked only sporadically. Every time he left a job or was fired it was never his fault. My mom had taken to pursing her lips and giving a little shake of her head whenever he provided any of several elaborate excuses, but she never said anything to him an
ymore.

Angrily I began to make myself something to eat. I slammed cabinets, swung the refrigerator door so jars rattled, and let my dishes clunk down on the counter. I hated him coming around only once in a while and telling me what to do. What right did he have?

“Asha!” he yelled over the noise I was making. “Go to your damn room!”

“Fine,” I said snottily, just loud enough for him to hear me. I stomped down the hall and slammed my door as hard as I could. Then, for good measure, I shouted a nasty curse to ease my frustration.

I’d been so sure he wouldn’t hear me over the TV, but he barreled into my room a second later. The doorknob banged a hole into the wall. His face was alarmingly red. Startled, I drew away until the back of my knees hit the bed.

I wasn’t sure what he was mad about—me slamming the door or cussing—but I’d broken whatever barrier had been keeping his bad mood in check. Now he was taking all his anger out on me because I was the only one around. His teeth were bared and a vein popped in his for
ehead. He growled something unintelligible at me and closed one hand around my throat just tight enough that I rasped for breath. I slapped at his face with both hands, knocking his glasses off.

“Hit me one more time!” he threatened. “I’ve punched a woman before and I’ll do it again!”

That made me pause, but I was still desperate for him to loosen his hand. I squirmed and tried to scream. Then I heard shouting and suddenly my dad was off me. Fingers at my throat, I sucked in a couple of good breaths and watched as Les shoved him out of the room, eyes blazing with fury.

“Get the hell out,” Les snarled, looking more frightening than a slim-muscled, gangly seve
nteen-year-old had any right to look. “Don’t you
dare
come back.
Ever
.”

My dad outweighed him but he was drunk, clumsy, and starting to lose the adrenaline that had driven him to choke me. He shouted nonsensical insults and threats before stumbling out of the house.

“Are you all right?” Les asked gently. It seemed oddly silent with my dad gone, though I could still hear the TV blaring in the living room.

Tears began to tremble at the corners of my widened eyes. “Um . . . yeah.” I nodded slowly. “Where’s Ivory?”

“We were supposed to meet here. I guess he got caught in traffic. Come on.”

He led me out into the living room and sat me down on the couch. After shutting off the TV, he knelt in front of me and lifted my chin to inspect my throat. I was too upset to feel emba
rrassed or nervous about him touching me.

“It’s a little red,” he said, “but I don’t think it will bruise. I’ll get you some ice.”

I started to tell him I didn’t need it but he was already up. I sank back into the couch, breathing deeply. My energy slowly drained away. The tears receded. I’d never cried for my father and I wasn’t going to start.

“Here.” Les handed me a plastic bag stuffed with ice cubes, a dishtowel wrapped around it.

“Thanks.”

He had bleached hair then, and a penchant for wearing black t-shirts with the sleeves cut off. He sat facing me on the coffee table, elbows on his knees, and talked to me about getting su
spended a few days earlier for fighting. It was mostly just noise, just something to distract me from my dad, but I was always interested in what he had to say.

There wasn’t really any reason for him to fight, just normal adolescent rage, probably, or b
ecause he just liked it. Whatever the reason, whenever he showed up with a black eye or some other mild injury, I found myself oddly intrigued.

I listened to him talk until Ivory arrived a few minutes later. Les explained what had ha
ppened, then Ivory turned to me for the full story.

“That son of a bitch,” my brother roared after I’d told him. “I’m calling the cops.”

“No, don’t do that,” I protested. I just wanted to forget today had ever happened.

“Asha—”

“I’m fine,” I said in wavering voice, clutching the ice under my chin. “I mean, I don’t really care, all right?”

“I don’t think he’ll be back,” Les said. “I sort of threatened him.”

“He better not be,” Ivory muttered.

My dad never did come back and we’d all assumed he’d left the city or, later, that vampires had gotten him. But now, five years later, he was here and looking sober, though much older and more worn than I remembered. His glasses were the same ones I’d once knocked off his face. Because he barely acknowledged Les, I wondered if he remembered what Les had done to him. I wondered if he remembered that day at all.

I kept a blank expression as I stared at him, empty of emotion. I didn’t love him but I couldn’t bring myself to hate him. He was nothing to me.

“What do you want?” I asked calmly. Les looked back and forth between us, ready to fight if necessary.

“Asha. Can I come in?” Dad smiled hopefully and took a tentative step toward us.

“No. We don’t let strangers in here. What do you want?”

“I just want to talk to my daughter. And my son. Is Ivory around? Where’s Trish?”

His words stoked a sudden fury in me. “They’re not here,” I nearly shouted. “Which you would know, if you’d bothered to show up at all the last few years. You could have seen us every day, all the time, if you’d ever bothered to be a father! Or a husband!”

Though he looked stricken, I remained unmoved. “I’m sober now,” he said uncertainly.

I sighed. “Good for you. But Mom’s been dead for three years, and you should have talked to us when you had the chance. We’re not interested in a reunion.”

He lowered his head and nodded in understanding. “Well. I’m staying down at the Value Suites if you change your minds. Room two-six-two. Okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Great.”

I turned my back as Les slammed the door and locked it. We’d changed the locks long ago, so there were no worries my dad still had a key. I felt as secure as I ever did, but seeing him had upset me more than I cared to show. There was suddenly just too much to deal with. Dad’s return, Ivory’s abduction, and my vampire, always my vampire. How had life become so complicated?

“Ash?” Les prompted.

“What? I’m fine.”

He eyed me for a second. “Okay,” he said at last, though he sounded reluctant.

“Let’s get back on topic. How are we going to find Ivory?”

“I don’t know,” Les admitted. With a sigh, he turned to Aleskie. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Leave?”

“Yes. I just don’t feel safe having you continue to stay here now. I can’t protect Asha and keep an eye on you at the same time.”

“You don’t have to keep an eye on me! I’m not a child!”

“Get out of here now,” Les said in a low voice, “before I make you.”

The shocked look on her face transformed into a stubborn, icy one. “Fine,” she said curtly. “Thanks for helping me.” With that, she glided past us and out the front door. Les locked it again.

Silence fell between us. He walked slowly away from the door, rubbing his face with one hand. The slope of his shoulders conveyed exhaustion and defeat. I studied him ruefully, hating the incident that had brought out this uncharacteristic vulnerability in him. I was so used to him as a reticent, almost cold presence, but now I wanted more than ever to go to him and wrap my arms around his chest.

I remained on the couch, though, too cowardly to let him know how I felt. The timing was much too wrong anyway.

Les dropped his hand and let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “I think we should stay in the same room tonight,” he said.

Something fluttered in my chest and I stifled a nervous, inappropriate giggle. “Um. Okay.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor in your room.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s fine.”

He grabbed his jacket and the gun, looking beaten and weary. Ivory was my brother, but he was Les’s best friend. They’d been close for ten years. Whatever I felt about Ivory’s absence, Les was feeling something similar.

It was impossible to think my tall, blond, handsome brother was gone. But he was. And we would need our strength and wits in the coming days to figure out how to get him back.

Fatigue was dragging us both down quickly. I headed to my room, Les following behind me. There was about four feet of space on either side of my bed, and I arranged some blankets and a pillow for him on the side beneath the window. He would be just a few feet from me, close enough to touch if we both put our arms out, and I was acutely aware of the distance. I’d never thought something so terrible would bring us this close together.

In my room, in the dark, I lay shivering beneath the covers. Though my eyelids were heavy, I was finding it difficult to get to sleep. Over and over I replayed every word we had said to one another that night. If I was quiet enough, if I held my breath, I could hear him breathing. The distance between us was nothing, yet it was everything.

~

He had left my room by the time I woke up in the morning. For a moment I stared at the rumpled space where he’d lain on the dark brown carpet, then popped out of bed. As soon as I’d gotten dressed, I sat in front of the closet mirror to fix my hair and called Criseyde.

“Can you come over today?” I asked eagerly. “Something happened.”

“Sure,” she replied in a bright voice, the unfriendly exchange we’d last shared instantly forgiven and forgotten.

I hung up the phone and gave my wavy hair a shake. I never did much with it anyway.

Before I left the room, I drifted toward the wall beside the door and ran my fingers over the patched area, a slightly different texture than the rest of the wall. Ivory had gone to the hardware store that very day for supplies to fix the hole my dad had created. He’d muttered curses to himself the whole time.

I had always tried to rebel against anything Ivory ever said to me. I had resented him telling me what to do and how he’d assumed the role of protector, but now I wondered if things som
ehow could have been different if only I’d listened to him. He’d only wanted to keep me safe. He’d done everything for me because he’d never had a choice, never had a chance to do something different, and I’d reacted like a brat.

This wasn’t my fault, I knew, but I found myself the easiest person to blame.

Les joined me in the kitchen a few minutes later as I was making coffee. “I think you should learn to shoot today,” he said.

“You mean you’re finally going to give me some of those self-defense lessons Ivory pro
mised last year?”

He gave a short laugh. “Yeah.”

I smiled. “Can we do it this afternoon? I have to run an errand with Criseyde first.”

“Sure.”

We danced silently around each other as we grabbed mugs and fixed ourselves cups of coffee. I held my breath until he left the room. Leaning against the counter with a small sigh, I listened idly when he turned on the news.

“
—the Las Secas housing market at an all-time low . . . rental prices soaring . . . unemployment rate one of the highest in the nation . . .
”

The news was so depressing even when they weren’t talking about vampires. Les, for some reason, was practically addicted to it, just like Ivory.

“Why do you watch the news all the time?” I asked.

“To learn about vampires. Sometimes you can get an idea where they’re attacking. Or even pick out patterns.” He shrugged. “It just makes hunting them a little bit easier. It helps dehuma
nize them.”

“Oh.” His answer was so simple, yet I’d never considered it.

When Criseyde arrived, I ushered her back to my room and shared with her the events of last night. She listened silently as I spoke of Lucinda and the club, the fight, Ivory’s kidnapping by mysterious vampires, and Les kicking Aleskie out of the house.