Black As Night (Quentin Black Mystery #2) (9 page)

He trailed when I flinched, staring up at him.

In the pause that followed, his jaw hardened, almost like he regretted his words. Then he made that odd clicking noise he did sometimes, shaking his head. Sighing, he murmured more softly, “I’m not approaching you like I would a human, Miriam. That should answer at least one of your questions. I thought it would be easier to talk if we spent some time sharing light first.”

“Easier for who?” I retorted.

“Easier for me,” he said at once. “Easier for you too, I suspect...assuming I’m right about you. But yes, there are a lot of things that would be a lot
easier
to explain if we had a few more compatible frames of reference.”

“That more ‘compatible frame of reference’ being sex?”

“Yes.” He paused, as if thinking. “Well...not necessarily. But that’s probably the easiest. And if you haven’t figured it out yet, I want to. Badly.” When I folded my arms, shaking my head, he added, “So maybe not all of my reasons are purely strategic...that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking along both lines.”

He studied my face more closely.

“Is this really jealousy?” he said. “Because
that,
I would understand. We seers are notoriously jealous. It’s almost a defining racial trait.”

Biting my lip, I found myself fighting not to hit him again.

I glanced around us, maybe because I’d seen him do it, but mostly to make sure no one was close enough to hear our words. We were the only ones in the pool though, probably because, despite everything, it still couldn’t be later than eleven-thirty in the morning. The hot tub had a few couples in it, but they were too far away to hear us, and the few people sunbathing weren’t close enough either. I’d seen a few curious stares in our direction, especially from the stacked blond in the red bikini, but that was about it.

Anyway, I doubted that was due to anything we were saying.

“Get over yourself, Black,” I said, looking back at him. “Sleep with whoever you want. I really don’t give a shit.”

“You
are
jealous,” he said, moving closer. His mouth rested by my ear when he added, “Don’t worry, doc. I like it. I like it a lot.”

He nuzzled my neck, kissing me until I shoved at his chest a second time.

He raised his head. Frustration glanced across his eyes.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

I only shook my head, clenching my jaw. “Black...”

He sharpened his voice. “You want me. I can feel you want me. And you’re pissed off that I’ve been fucking humans.” When I flinched at his wording, biting my lip, he kept talking. “...You don’t like that I left you in San Francisco, even after I told you why. I plan to tell you everything you want to know once we’ve shared light...I’ve promised you that now, too. What else do you want from me, Miriam?”

But I barely heard that part.

I didn’t even connect the dots as to why at first.

“I don’t want anything from you,” I said. “Nothing at all, Black.”

Pushing at his arm, I swam out from in front of him, heading for the steps out of the pool.

As I ascended them I looked around, spying folded towels on each of the empty lounge chairs, obviously laid out by the staff for guests. I grabbed a thick red one and used it to wipe my face. As I did, I realized I was shaking...although if it was in anger or some other emotion, I honestly couldn’t decide. I tried to think about what it was, to understand my own reactions, but the volatility I could feel around the whole thing alarmed me a little.

Truthfully, I still wanted to punch him in the face.

I’d managed to forget that particular effect Black had on me.

Not just the wanting to punch him part...although
that
had definitely happened before. It was more that something about him had a way of dredging up feelings in me I thought I’d learned to control by the time I was fourteen years old.

I could almost see my sister, Zoe, laughing at me from wherever she was.

I stared down at him where he treaded water in the pool, still gripping the red towel in both of my hands where I held it between me and him.

“Black, if you don’t tell me what I’m doing here,” I said through gritted teeth. “...I’m getting on a plane tonight. I’ll fly to one of the beaches, have myself a real vacation.” I bit my lip, then said it anyway. “...and maybe a few vacation flings of my own. You can go back to getting initiation brands from drug addicts and screwing whoever you want here.”

He moved so fast it took me aback.

Planting his hands on the lip of the pool, he vaulted out in a single move, seconds after the last of my words left my lips. I found myself stepping back, staring up at him as he straightened, dripping water on the tile walkway in front of me. That time, the anger in his eyes was unambiguous. He caught hold of both of my arms before I saw him move.

Then he yanked me up against him.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me about the possessiveness problems that we seers suffer from, Miriam,” he said. “Of course, I would never presume to tell you what to do... but you might not want to use that particular gambit to get my attention. You have
no idea
just how seer I think I’m likely to behave if you do...”

I stared up at him, feeling my startle turn rapidly into anger when I saw the coldness in his expression. Still staring up at his face I clenched my jaw.

“Are you threatening me?” I said.

Still watching his eyes, I felt my anger turn into fury when he didn’t speak.

“Black? Is that a threat?”

“Against you?” He released my arms at once, stepping back. “A physical threat? No. Never.”

“Then what the hell was it?” I said.

He met my gaze. “Let’s just say, I wouldn’t advise you to fuck anyone you like very much right now, Miriam... not unless you’re willing to watch me retaliate in a not-very-dignified manner.”

I couldn’t stop staring at him, fighting disbelief as I turned over his words. “Are you threatening to hurt anyone I sleep with besides you?” I said. “Or are you threatening to sleep with someone else in front of me?”

His jaw hardened more. “On purpose?” he said. “No.”

I fought to untangle that, too.

“Did you just answer my question?” I said.

“I’m saying either thing is possible. But I wouldn’t do it intentionally.”

I fought the impulse to hit him again. “What do you mean, either thing is ‘possible’?” I clenched my jaw. “What the hell is that supposed to
mean?”

His gold eyes somehow grew colder.

He stared at me for a few seconds longer, as if fighting with whether to speak. Then he turned on his heel, and I practically
felt
him shutting down some part of himself, or at least pulling it away from me. It happened fast––fast enough to disorient me. More to the point, fast enough to make me realize how...I don’t know...
lost
in him I had been, at least for those few minutes. That feeling of spinning out of control scared me a second time, even as I realized we’d practically been shouting at one another as we stood on the edge of that pool.

What the hell was he doing to me?

Either way, him somehow pushing me
away
from him...with some part of his mind that is...had snapped that connection back.

The wall had already reformed between us almost entirely before he began to walk, aiming his bare feet for the wooden walkway leading back towards the hotel. I watched him bend down fluidly to snatch a towel off a different lounge chair without slowing his steps towards those glass doors.

“Be ready in forty minutes,” he called back, without turning his head. “Dress well. This is a formal meeting, Ms. Fox.”

I didn’t answer. I simply gaped after him, watching him disappear.

Five

MR. BOUROS

I STOOD AT the driveway’s curb outside the hotel, still fighting to get my head on straight as I checked my watch, tapping my foot in the high-heeled shoes. I was muttering under my breath, staring out over the traffic on the main road when the white SUV pulled up in front of me.

I didn’t see our “translator” Fah that time, but the same driver I remembered from before gave me a smile and a nod as he got out to open the door. He also gave me a few quick rises of the eyebrows as he looked over my clothes, which broke me out of my anger temporarily by making me laugh...partly because I saw the smile in his eyes as he did it.

Still smiling, I got into the back of the car when he opened the door.

Adjusting myself on the leather seat, I exhaled, doing my best to relax.

I still had no idea where we were going.

Moreover, at this point, a big part of me wanted to tell the driver to just take me back to the airport. I wasn’t usually the fight-or-flight type, at least not in terms of non-lethal situations, so even the temptation to flee Black and whatever the hell was going on between us was enough to make me angry. I resolved to just ignore him instead, but some part of me knew that wasn’t going to work either.

I was still staring out the window––gazing without seeing at the back of the fountain that faced the street, filled with tall, copper-colored letters spelling out Hanu Hotel––when the door opened to my right. Before I could turn, someone slid onto the seat next to me.

When I faced him I flinched, if only because he sat so near and I hadn’t felt him at all.

Moreover, he wore a suit, which I’d only seen him in once before.

He, in turn, was staring at me in the violet-colored dress I wore.

I had no idea what he thought of the outfit, since his face shifted away as soon as I turned in his direction. He wore sunglasses again, too, I noticed, even in the car, which made me wonder if he did it in part to hide his odd-colored irises.

Focusing on the driver, he spoke to him rapidly in what had to be Thai, which made me jump again.

“You speak Thai?” I said, surprised––and really, a little impressed.

He turned, leveling a sunglass-laden stare in my direction.

He didn’t bother to answer.

Biting my lip, I looked away, folding my arms. I found myself thinking this wasn’t going to be a very fun afternoon, even apart from the fact that I had zero idea what he wanted from me in this meeting.

“You look nice,” he said, his voice neutral.

I looked over at him, my lips pressed firmly together.

He was adjusting his jacket and shirt in the mirror on the back of the sun-flap above the driver’s head. When I didn’t speak, he gave me a darting look through the shades.

“...The dress,” he added, motioning at me with one of his oddly graceful gestures before he leaned back in the seat. “It’s nice.”

I didn’t answer.

Despite my rapidly souring mood after our scene by the pool, the scenery managed to distract me not long after we left the hotel’s circular driveway. I don’t know what I’d expected Bangkok to be like exactly, but looking around, I realized most of my impressions must have come from movies. Those movies apparently exaggerated the “exotic” elements, since most of what I saw now struck me as more familiar than not. The sheer modernity of the city came somewhat as a surprise, even as it blended with seamless harmony into the more traditional-looking Asian buildings and street vendors and artwork to either side.

When we reached the end of the wide-laned road under the overpass of the Skytrain, the SUV hung a right, taking us north I gauged, from where I’d remember the sun being that morning. I felt myself slowly starting to relax as we turned down that narrower street, snaking between buildings on roads lined with umbrella-covered street vendors selling everything from fruit to flowers to purses and shoes, T-shirts, jewelry and meat on skewers. Part of my relaxation came from my interest in the view, but I knew the bigger part was likely because––for the first time since I’d seen him in that police station in Old Town Bangkok––I couldn’t feel much off Quentin Black at all.