Deep Deception (7 page)

Adin shivered from what seemed like glacially cold, damp air that lay on them like a blanket. San Francisco was like London, only without the charm of age and the patina of empire to hold his interest and get him past it.

“I do not know what you see in this place.”

“That’s because you’re a snob, Adin.” Keene’s voice was amused. The elder Tredeger practically threw Adin a treat whenever he exhibited his disdain for the commonplace, so naturally, he’d grown to be a quirky little thing. “Your mother loves it here. I’ve never seen her so happy. It makes me a spectacular hero in her eyes to have brought her home to stay. Your sister loves her new school, you are doing well, given that you’re unhappy to be here, and I have the Balclutha, 301 feet, 2,650 tons of emotional satisfaction. I have never loved anything non-human this way. It’s positively obscene. I’m assuming it’s a midlife crisis and someday soon we’ll grow apart.”

Adin said nothing.

“You do like your school, don’t you?” When Adin grimaced, his father’s eyes twinkled. “Middle school has to be one of Dante’s levels of hell. Level 8, I think, the Malebolgia. You seem to have achieved a singular level of mediocrity in your first semester grades. Perfectly suitable for a boy in the pit of despair.”

“Actually, middle school is more like Delacroix’s painting The Barque of Dante, a horrible boat, ferrying you between elementary and high school,” Adin muttered. “Complete with shit that tries to drown you, and the floating bloated corpses of those who have gone before.”

Keene frowned. “Adin.”

“It’s not that it’s not a good school,” Adin muttered. “I get okay grades. People are nice.”

“But you don’t fit in?”

Adin closed his eyes and shook his head. “Not really.”

“You miss Edward?” Keene asked. “You two were thick in London. It’s hard to leave your best mate when you move.”

“I know. We e-mail. We wouldn’t have gone to the same school anyway, he would have been sent to prep school and I…”

“You are an American boy whose mother wants him by her side until he’s ninety.”

Adin bit his lip and rolled his eyes. “I get that, yes.”

“I needed to bring her home, Adin. It was my responsibility. She was afraid.”

“I know.”

“The world is changing.” Keene took a sip of his own coffee. “Sometimes I think it gets smaller and angrier every day. Can you imagine the nineteenth century when that ship was built? Just think, you’re a young man, barely more than a child, and you step aboard the Balclutha with nothing more than a canvas sack with a change of clothes, a pocket knife, maybe a tin whistle. Everything you know about where you’re headed comes from the images you hold in your imagination and what you can see off her bow: the horizon, in all directions, limitless space, endless possibility, and the great unknown.”

“Mother says you grow more and more like a PBS documentary every day.”

“I know that. I believe I mentioned I’m obsessed.” He looked back and saw the shroud of fog still clung to the object of his desire.

Adin laughed when two of his father’s students—attractive college girls—jogged by in short shorts, giggling.

“Hello, Dr. Tredeger.”

It was as if they simpered in unison. Keene waved. Adin watched his father’s face. It seemed safe to say he had no concept of their attraction to him. Even at thirteen Adin knew when he saw the spark of sexual interest in someone’s eyes. He’d learned a lot from the far worldlier Edward, whose passion for the Romantic Movement in art was positively exacerbated by his quicksilver moods and an early and fateful reading of the poetry of Walt Whitman.

Gods.

Edward, in whose eyes he saw his own longings clearly and proudly displayed; Edward, who seemed to be an advance scout, a forayer into the hostile territory of adulthood, bringing back information and providing a source of comfort for Adin, who seemed destined to advance at a slower pace.

Edward had already informed his family of what he knew to be his truth, and even though Adin was well aware he’d have to make the same declarations someday, he worried that his wouldn’t be met with the same sangfroid Edward’s parents and grandmother—who had known before he did—had displayed.

In one of those remarkably perceptive moments that Adin never expected from his otherwise oblivious father, Keene asked him, “Is there anything you think I should know?”

Adin’s eyes rose to meet his father’s. He hid behind his coffee cup and let the steam from the still hot brew rise between them.

“Did you see those girls run by?” Keene murmured.

Adin grinned. “You know they have a crush on you. They probably don’t even jog as far as Pier 39.”

“I know,” Keene admitted. “But it pays to play the absent-minded professor in these instances. Do you know what? I am a far more keen—no pun intended—observer of human nature than you think. And I think I know when a person is engaged romantically. Although you will never, ever see me look that way at anyone but your mother.”

Adin felt uncomfortable with the subject and burned under his father’s close scrutiny.

“My brother,” his father went on, “died in the early days of the AIDS crisis, right here in this city. He was attending a funeral every week and then finally, had one of his own.”

Adin’s heart hammered in his chest as his father let out a lengthy sigh.

“I’ve never told anyone that. Normally when we talked about his illness, or his death after the fact, my family talked about the diseases that were incidental to his diagnosis of Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. The cancer, the toxoplasmosis, the PML, the pneumonia. The reason for his illness became a deep, dark family secret because it was my parents’ wish that no one know he was gay or that he was ill with what was then still referred to by the ignorant as the ‘homosexual disease’. So we hid it.”

Adin could see the regret on his father’s face. He swallowed hard. “Why are you telling me this?”

“For two reasons, Adin.” Keene looked him directly in the eye. “First, and most important. I loved my brother so much. He was such a wonderful man. Full of life and love, even at the end. A vibrant, beautiful soul. You were barely preschool age when he died, and we hadn’t been in the country except to visit briefly, for years. That makes me tremendously sad. He would have adored you. You’re very much alike.”

Adin turned toward the rippling water of the bay. The fog was burning off, barely obscuring the horizon. In only moments the Balclutha would be visible, maybe even perfectly lit by the sun beginning to peek through the clouds.

“Second, I want to tell you how terribly disappointed I was by the way my parents handled my brother’s death, as if by shrouding his final year in mystery they were preserving his dignity, when in fact, they were robbing him of it with their failure to celebrate his life. Whatever happened, whatever choices he made, even though tragedy struck, I still celebrate his life. I wish my parents had. I would have.”

“Dad.” Adin, filled with a kind of rising panic, ducked behind the camera and looked through the viewfinder.

“I feel sure that I would love my children no matter what.” Adin’s father peered at him with a laser-sharp focus. “
No matter what
, Adin.”

“Dad, pay attention.” Adin watched the Balclutha through the camera lens with blurry eyes, even as the mist began to move until the masts were exposed, and in only moments, it went from nearly invisible to patchily outlined, to visible, and kissed by the sun. Adin snapped several pictures in a row, ignoring the weighty feel of his father’s gaze on him. Finally he stopped. “I think I got what we came for.”

“Me too, son.” His father wrapped an arm around him.

Moments later, in the way of dreams, Adin was transported to San Francisco Bay on another day, only ten years later, when it became necessary to hire a small fishing boat to take him and Deana out past the bridge and into the ocean to lay his parents to rest in that same glistening water. Deana held his left hand, squeezing hard as Adin allowed a handful of ashes to sift through the fingers of his right…

Adin’s hand hurt. It seemed Deana was crushing it as she clutched it harder than he’d ever felt her hold it before…

Adin swallowed around the stinging in his throat as he opened his eyes. His chest felt all heavy inside, as if suddenly it were filled with wet sand, and dragging enough air into it to breathe was painful. When he could focus he saw Bran sitting next to him on the bed, squeezing his hand.

“
Adin
.” Bran leaned over, crawling toward him. Tears fell freely down his cheeks, and Adin discovered that they were the perfect antidote for his own. He itched to wipe them away from Bran’s face but didn’t do it. Bran ignored his restraint and clumsily threw his arms around Adin. “I’m so sorry.”

Adin pushed at him. “Bran—”

“Your family loved you so much. Your father and mother were wonderful and then you lost them, just like I lost mine…”

“Bran, get off me.”

If anything the boy squeezed him tighter. “I’m so sorry, Adin. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have gone looking around if I’d known it was going to be so awful to watch…”

“
Bran
, I said,
let go
.”

Adin heard the door close with a
bang
. The atmosphere in the room changed dramatically. The voices that whispered love words to let Adin know Donte was near buzzed like angry wasps in his head. The very air filled with vibration, emanating from Donte’s body and flowing outward into the room like a warning siren. Adin had only a second to think before Bran responded with a feral, uncanny sound, like the roar of a tiger. Bran leaped off the bed, crouching by Adin’s side as if getting ready to defend him.

“Stop.” Neither of them paid Adin any attention.

“
Step away from my human
.” Donte’s powerful voice rolled over them like pyroclastic flow. Dear God. Someone was going to get killed.

“Make me,” Bran answered.

Chapter Seven

Bran rippled with indignation. “Adin deserves better than to be someone’s
human
.”

“
Bran
.” Adin rose, despite his nakedness and held his hands out to both of them. Tension crackled through the air. Adin sensed that neither of them would move until they were certain to win. He stepped between them. “Stand
DOWN
.”

“Back away, Adin,” Donte commanded.

Bran radiated fury. “He’s a vampire. How can you love a vampire?”

“Bran?” Adin said through gritted teeth. “Stay the fuck out of my head.”

Donte’s brows drew together. “What is he talking about?”

“Adin may seem like nothing more to you than a sack of cells and a ready supply of fresh blood—”

“Hey!” snapped Adin.

“But he deserves to be more to someone than just food and a convenient—”

“You’re about to be killed by the man you’re defending, boy.” Donte almost smiled.
Almost
.

“Donte,” Adin warned. Donte had dropped his battle stance, and the air no longer rang with his violent intentions. That was something, anyway.

“I’m not a
boy
,” Bran spit, still ready to fight.

“Then behave like a man.” Donte shook out his raincoat and hung it up on a stand by the door. He looked tired to Adin. As if he’d been walking a long distance and hadn’t fed. “Adin isn’t simply my
human
. He’s my life, for lack of a better word. If you can’t understand that one, I’ve got about a hundred terms that are equally inadequate.”

Adin’s heart did a little flip behind his ribs. “
Donte
.”

“Boaz has filled me in on Bran’s great escape.” Donte glared at Adin. “You are not my favorite person right now. Please dress.”

“I’m sorry.” Adin grabbed his pilot case off the floor and headed for the bathroom. He washed up and dressed quickly, apprehensive that Bran might do something impulsive to get himself into more trouble. When he returned to the room wearing a pair of jeans and a button down shirt in Donte’s favorite rich shade of blue, Bran and Donte occupied opposite corners of the small room like prizefighters.

“What am I missing, Adin?” Donte ran a hand through his wet hair. “What can Harwiche have in mind?”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it has nothing to do with you. Harwiche wanted the boy and didn’t have the balls to deal with Bran’s captors.” Adin helped Donte take off his suit jacket, hanging it for him in the closet, almost on autopilot. “And Santos took advantage of the situation. He knew I’d feel protective toward Bran, and he knew you’d hand him over in a heartbeat.”

Donte looked at Adin through his dark lashes and shrugged. “Not my heartbeat.”

“The point, if you would please see reason in this one case, is that if the three of us work together we might be able to find a way out of this mess.”

“In this case?”

Bran sneered. “Yes, unlike the other case, where you left your ‘life’ to be eaten by bloodthirsty monsters.”

“You
told
him about that?” Donte asked.

“I did not.” Adin pulled the desk chair out and sat on it. “But apparently my memories are accessible to him.”

Donte crossed to the wall where Bran stood in less than the blink of an eye. He glared at Bran, but even at Donte’s most intimidating, Bran refused to be cowed. Perhaps he’d attain Donte’s height when he grew, or perhaps he’d be taller, but right at the moment he came only to Donte’s shoulder and still, he didn’t back down.

“If Adin says get out of his head,” Donte warned. “Then get out of his head.”

“Or you’ll what?”

“Stop it!” Adin barked at them. “How do you know you aren’t playing exactly into Santos’s hands? It’s time to act against instinct, and think.”

Donte glared down at Bran until Bran’s stomach rumbled so loudly even Adin could hear it across the room.

“It’s time,” said Donte, “for food. For something so fierce, you can really be quite human, can’t you?”

“You wish!” Bran ignored the offered truce. Adin had had quite enough.

“Bran, even coming from Donte that’s not the insult you think it is.” He caught Bran by the hand and led the still wary boy to the door where Adin picked up his heavier jacket. “We’ll be back.”

“Wait!” Donte called out, flipping something small and square at Adin, who caught it neatly.

“I have a phone.” Adin frowned at the new phone and experienced a moment of intense physical longing.
Gadget envy.
“Although this one is much cooler.”

“This new phone has been modified with a GPS tracker that allows Boaz to monitor where you are. His number is programmed in at speed dial number one. Even though I anticipate a terrible argument, I must ask that you please take that with you and keep it on your person at all times. Argue with me after I’ve had a chance to think, caro.”

Bran leaned over and whispered in Adin’s ear. “Is Boaz like Alfred from Batman or something?”

Adin wanted to bang his head on the door. “Donte—”

“Stop.” Donte cut him off. “
I
could find you in a city twice this size with no need for such things, but I’m restricted to night and if speed counts…”

Adin noticed once again how tired Donte looked. He reached up and brushed Donte’s hair back from his face. “Are you all right, lover?”

Donte’s half smile warmed Adin. “I’m fine. You see? You worry about me as well.”

Adin lifted Donte’s hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles. “Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you?”

“All the time, più amato.” Donte pursed his lips. “I eat something that doesn’t agree all the time.”

Bran spoke up. “Hey, ew…back off.”

Donte used Bran’s own words to reply, “You wish.”

And just like that, the air was crisp and tense with violence again.

“Enough,” Adin sighed. He caught the collar of Bran’s dirty jacket and opened the door, hauling him out into the hallway. To Donte, he said, “We’ll eat, and then we’ll shop. I’ll call Boaz if we need anything.”

“Thank you,” Donte said quietly as he closed the door. If Adin weren’t concerned about him before, those two words, uttered with such simple sincerity would have set alarm bells ringing without the glimpse he’d gotten of Donte’s unhappy face.

“Shit.”

Bran boarded the elevator with him. “What?”

Adin frowned at the numbers as they descended. “I wish I knew.”

Rain continued to fall on the city, darkening the streets and buildings and changing the silhouettes of passersby as they bobbed along with umbrellas. The air was full of everything Parisian, old wet stone and bread baking against a backdrop of diesel fuel and genteel decay. They took the metro to the area around Sacre Coeur in case anyone was watching the cafés and shops around Adin’s hotel. Adin didn’t see anyone following them, but that didn’t mean they were safe. He looked over his shoulder, but relaxed as time passed and nothing happened.

Adin wore a wool peacoat treated to repel rain, so he was unlikely to feel the water soak through to his skin. Bran wasn’t dressed for it, so the first thing they did was approach a street vendor selling umbrellas. They bought a large black umbrella to share. Bran had the tendency to carry it off every time he saw something that interested him, and when they arrived at a suitable café Adin’s hair was as wet as if he’d stood under a hose. They ordered coffee and rolls. Bran asked for a café crème, which he saturated with sugar.

“It’s time you and I had a talk,” Adin told him as the waiter left with his payment. “Why did you come back?”

Bran looked away. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I thought maybe you’d come back to the hotel, so I snuck past Villiers and listened at doors until I found you.”

“While I was sleeping?”

“You dream loud.” Bran bit his lip. “It was easy to break in without the chains.”

“I shouldn’t have let you leave Santos’s place alone. That was stupid. Where could I expect you to go? Where were you living when those men found you?”

“Nowhere really. Where do you and Donte come from?”

“I live in the Pacific Northwest. Donte is Italian. I assume by your accent you’re from Northern England. My friend Edward has an accent very like it when he’s not being an art snob.”

Bran looked away. “I really don’t remember.”

“How long were you with those men?”

“I don’t know.” Bran’s voice trembled slightly as he spoke. Adin reminded himself that Bran was little more than a boy. “A few months.”

“Months?” Adin set his cup down with a clatter. “Did you say
months
?”

“Maybe. I think so. It wasn’t very cold when they took me. I was sleeping in the park with some friends. Some men said they needed me for a job, and then… I don’t remember much after that. It was hard to tell time because it was always dark.”

“And the iron?”

“It makes me feel sick. Like I’m underwater. I lose track of time. It makes me forget things.”

“Jeez.” Adin pushed his roll across to Bran and signaled the waiter for more. Bran continued to eat hungrily. “You were living on the street when you were taken?”

“Yeah. There were lots of us kids. Sometimes people gave us money. Sometimes we’d get odd jobs. The older ones found ways to make money that… I didn’t. I don’t need much.”

“Were they…?” Adin frowned. “Was everyone like you? Did they all have special things they could do?”

“No.” Bran shot him a look that said,
duh
. “Not at all. But I always fit in, see, and everyone who lives on the street’s a little mental, so you can’t really say for certain if someone’s different, or if he’s just been on the street too long.”

“How’d they catch on?” Adin paid the waiter when he brought more rolls. “How’d you get singled out?”

Bran looked at his plate. “Dunno.”

“I need an answer, Bran. Please, it’s important to me.”

Bran gazed at him, and Adin sensed his hero worship again. That was going to be hard as hell to live up to. “There’s this thing, yeah? Sometimes I can tell if someone’s about to die.”

“What?” Adin leaned in. “You see the future?”

“No.” Bran put his roll down and pushed the plate away. “It’s nothing like that. If you’d been where I’ve been, you can tell. I’ve seen it. There’s stages, see. And you just know.”

“So what? They think you’re psychic or something? Vampires can read minds and sense all human physiological cues. If it’s just that you know when people are passing—”

“It’s not that.” Bran lowered his voice. “I can go with them. Show them things, like I sometimes do for you until it’s over.”

“What?” Adin tried to imagine how anyone would even begin to realize they could do something like that. “But how—”

“I don’t know, all right?” Bran began to fret. “I just know that if someone is going to die nobody can really stop it. It’s their time, see? And it’s sad for old folks if they’ve got no one. Worse if—” Bran broke off and looked down at his hands.

“What?”

“I once saw a little girl get hit by a car. The driver didn’t stop and she just lay there in the road, crying. I didn’t want to leave her so I screamed until someone called for help. By the time help got there she was gone. It was only minutes.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Bran shrugged, but his eyes were moist. “We just looked at things she liked, things she remembered that made her happy while… You know.”

“That’s probably the kindest thing I’ve ever heard about anyone. That you take time. That you care. But—”

“What?” Bran snapped, obviously embarrassed and trying to avoid any praise from Adin. “I know it sounds dumb. I do odd jobs. I live on the streets, I’m… I don’t know what I am. And I don’t know why anyone cares.”

“Is that why you came back to the hotel?”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Bran’s lower lip pushed out, making him look even younger. “I thought maybe, if you were still there, I could stay with you.”

Adin smiled at him. “Okay.”

Bran lit up. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Adin nodded. “So. What? You sit with people who are about to die, and what exactly do you do?”

Bran stared at him. “I don’t know. Sometimes we watch their memories. I try to find the best ones. Then we wait until their time.”

“Exactly their time?” Adin felt something tease at him. Something he and Donte had been reading. “You know when it’s over?”

Bran stared at his coffee. Adin thought the boy might have burst into tears except for the grip he kept on his lip with his teeth. “So?”

“How do you know?”

Bran frowned. “They’re just gone and I’m back.”

“So you’re saying…” Adin asked carefully. “You’re saying that you go with them?”

“Yes… No, I don’t really. It’s like they go, and since I’m in their head…” Bran picked up his coffee and took a sip. For the first time, Adin wondered at the wisdom of giving coffee to a boy with that much energy.

“You’re in their head so you go with them.”

“It’s not like people say, exactly. The light’s there, and sometimes people, but I haven’t seen Jesus or the Virgin Mary or anything. People are different so I guess they see what they’re going to see, and I’m along for the ride.”

“And then you’re back.”

“Yes.”

Adin stared at Bran. He tried to imagine what his life must have been like. An attractive family with two teenage boys walked by outside. One of them looked in and frowned at Bran, making a face that carried a familiar kind of Gallic superiority. Adin saw it find its mark. He watched as Bran looked away, tugging at the too-short sleeves of his worn jacket.

“Well.” Adin cleared his throat. “I’d like to lose myself in the flea market. Maybe we can find something interesting. I’ve been looking to buy Donte a gift. Something he doesn’t already have, whatever that might be.”

Bran’s forehead creased. “He’s a little…cold.”

Adin sighed. “It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it? He’s not though. Maybe I’ll get him a red scarf. It might make him look more…approachable.”

“Maybe it’s not such a good idea for a vampire to appear approachable.” Bran pushed the last of their bread into his mouth with a finger even as he gathered up his umbrella. “Will there be artists where we’re going?”