Downside Rain: Downside book one (6 page)

Now
I know why Angelina calls him Big Micah.

Mer
folk have no shame, but Micah goes one step beyond, he flaunts his considerable
endowments like he expects me to applaud.

Angelina
throws a towel at him. “Shame on you, Micah.” But she follows up by giggling
behind her hand.

Still
grinning, he catches the towel, wraps it about his loins and leaves the room,
no doubt heading for Angelina’s bedroom.

Angelina
languorously sways into her living room, where she drapes her long body on a sofa
upholstered in tufted rose silk. I slop from the tub room behind her. Her
finger- and toenails look like abalone, her skin from the hips down is an
iridescent spectrum of pale color which shimmers in the cool pearly light. She
poses in all her glory, one arm beneath her silken copper hair, one leg angled
over the other. “What can I do for you, Rain?”

She
knows I don’t call on her without good reason. Sure, we are amicable, but not
friends. I don’t stop by for girlfriend chats.

 “Do
you know if a powerful sorcerer is in town?” The sorcerer who called the
hellion had to be nearby to bring it through.

Angelina’s
delicate copper brows arch. “No. Why do you ask?”

I
don’t want to get the lovely furniture wet so sit on the floor facing her with
legs crossed and hands resting on my knees.

After
I tell her what happened, Angelina swings her legs over the side and plants her
feet on the floor. “I did feel a ripple in the ether. With the flow of magic
and crime in Gettaholt, fluctuations are not unusual; I found the almost
constant disturbance most distressing when I first arrived, now I let it roll
off me, I barely notice.” She frowns. “But this definitely drew my attention.
Not that I knew it was a hellion. I sensed something evil rise from the dark
place.”

“We
think we were set up. Someone is out to get us and they’re desperate.”

“They
must be, to call a hellion.” She leans over her knees, distress etching her
face. “Rain, what have you done?”

Sheesh.
Why does it have to be my fault? I flare my eyes and flip my hands up.
“Nothing!”

“You
do know securing the services of a sorcerer of the higher arts is extraordinarily
expensive, and how dangerous a dark summons is?”

“Sure.
But really, Angie, our assignments have been humdrum.”

“Nothing
in your personal life, or Castle’s?”

I
shift one shoulder. “No.” But Castle and me, or Castle, or me, must have put
our toes in somebody’s shit. There is nothing worse than knowing you messed up
and someone is out to make you pay, and having no idea what you did or how to
make it all better.

“I’ll
nose around and get back to you if I find anything,”

“Thanks.
I appreciate it.” I get upright. “What do I owe you?”

When
Angie does you a favor, you owe her, even if she doesn’t give results. You owe
her just for asking.

“Hm.”
She taps a fingernail on her teeth and her expression brightens. “You can come
shopping with me!”

Oh
hell’s bells. Anything but shopping with Angelina. I would rather spend the
night in city lockup, or swim in the sewer, or slice my own throat. But I don’t
argue. If she wants my company on a shopping expedition, I’ll go. But I won’t
enjoy it.

After
a hectic three hours trailing Angelina in and out of arty boutiques and upscale
department stores, I follow her back to her car loaded down with bags, parcels
and a hat box. Unencumbered, Angelina strolls ahead, wearing a new outfit with matching
red high heels. I wouldn’t wear clothes like hers if I had the figure. You
can’t run in shoes with heels like four-inch matchsticks. The pencil-slim skirt
limits her stride to a kind of swaying glide which may look seductive but
doesn’t get her anywhere fast.

I
need full mass to carry Angelina’s packages, so my back aches and my feet hurt.
Sweat drips in my eyes but I don’t have a spare hand to wipe them. My head hurts
from her constantly asking my opinion of every dress, skirt, coat and pair of
shoes she looks at. Not that my advice matters, I soon learn she ignores it, so
stop giving it.

Angelina
opens the car’s rear doors and I load in her packages. She kindly lets me open
the driver’s door before slipping in sideways so she sits facing the street,
skirt hiked up to her thighs. “Lunch, darling?”

I
push the door to inches from her knees. “Love to, but Sauvageau is expecting
me.”

“Alain?
Delectable.” She makes a moue, her generous lips pucker. “I haven’t seen Alain
since . . . oh, I don’t know. We were fond of each other at one time.”

Uh
huh.

Angelina
lifts her legs inside the car. “Watch yourself, Rain. He’s indefatigable when
he wants a woman.”

I
intentionally give her a blank look. “What has that to do with me?”

She
chuffs out a laugh. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. And I think you like him.”

“Don’t,”
I bluster. “Couldn’t care less about him.”

“Really?
Say it again with more passion and I still won’t believe you.”

She
drives off chortling. I walk in the opposite direction wearing a grin. I said
Sauvageau expects me, I didn’t say I’m going to him right this minute.

My
stomach is light with hunger but I don’t want to eat with Angelina and listen
to her chatter. I detour to Bellamiso and buy a toasted baguette oozing with
spicy ground sausage, cheese and marinara sauce, and a bottle of water. After
eating as I walk, I zip up my jacket to hide a sauce stain on my shirt. Damn. I
really should get the laundry done.

A
man saunters from the sidewalk and lands squarely in front of me.

“Fuck.”

“Not
now, sweetheart,” Clide drawls. He flashes fangs in a narrow grin.

Tall,
wide in the shoulders, narrow in the hips, with a lean, savagely beautiful face
and long golden hair, he could decorate the cover of a romance novel. With a
barely-clad woman draped over one arm.

“Hi,
Clide. What are you doing in these parts?”

He
turns to fall in step next to me as I pass. “Looking for you. And think before
you say you didn’t get my message, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“You
will, huh. This some new super-duper vampire power?”

“It’s
called guilt, as in written all over your face.”

“I
have somewhere to be,” I whine as we traverse a cobbled alley.

“You
undoubtedly do, and we’re heading there.”

Fuming,
I scuffle along with gaze on the ground.

“Scowling
doesn’t look good on your pretty face, darling. You’ve made him antsy waiting
for you, so keep a cool head.”

Sauvageau,
the ultimate smooth operator, antsy?

Protesting
is useless. Sauvageau sent Clide to find me, I can’t wiggle out of it any
longer. Clide won’t let me. I will bulk up if he touches me and only get free
with the help of a knife, though I’ll more likely end up on my back in the
gutter should I try to stab Clide. Anyway, the occasion doesn’t warrant it.

We
glide along, I because I carry as little mass as possible without losing my
clothes and Clide because he is naturally graceful. He whistles through his
teeth, a melody I don’t recognize.

“What
does Alain want?”

“He’ll
tell you.” Clide angles right and heads for West Pattinson.

I
trail a pace behind him. “You can’t say? Or you won’t? Or you don’t know?”

He
says nothing. I grumble under my breath, knowing full well he hears every word.
“Effing vampires. Think they run the effing city.”

He
snuffs through his nose and grins, showing fangs again. “Give us time.”

I
have never seen Clide irked and the gods know I’ve done my utmost to rile him.
Just for the heck of it.

Clide
walks me to Alain’s front door, flips his hand to his forehead in a casual
salute and makes for one of the other buildings.

Capucine
is waiting, and I know something is drastically wrong. Her first words are,
“Thank the gods!” and she grabs my hand. Miss High-And-Mighty-Wraiths-Are-Only-Good-For-Wiping-My-Boots-On
is pleased to see me. More than pleased, she’s relieved. Full fleshed and not
happy about it, I’m dragged along the passage, through the hall and into
Alain’s study at a fast trot.

In
a smart three-piece russet business suit, he rises from behind his desk. “Rain,
you took your time.”

Really?
I don’t like his tone; my face is hot, along with my temper. “You know, if you
told me why you want me instead of
ordering
me to come with no
explanation, I might be inclined to walk faster.”

Alain
gestures at one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat.”

His
voice has never been this cool before and his eyes are no warmer. His tone douses
my temper better than a bucket of ice water. I perch on the edge of the seat
and trap my hands between my knees.

Alain
gives me a considering look and goes to a small oval table which bears an array
of crystal decanters and glasses. He pours amber liquid in a rocks glass, brings
it to me and settles on the other chair. I can’t help noticing how the trousers
hug his thighs as he crosses one leg over the other.

What
is
wrong
with me? I’m ill, that’s it, with an overdose of Alain.

“Thanks.”
I take the glass from his warm fingers, sip and make an appreciative noise as
fine single malt liquor coats my throat.

We
savor our drinks in silence, the only noise the crackle of the fire, but the
reprieve is brief. “One of my people has been abducted,” Alain abruptly says.

I
hold the glass on one knee. “Who?”

“Who
was taken, or who took her?” He hangs one arm over the chair’s back rung, the
empty glass held in a limp grip. “Verity. The Greché have her.”

So
few words, and arranging them in my mind to make sense takes a minute. I know
Verity, a young vampire, half a century at best, a statuesque beauty and
Alain’s secretary. Well enough. But the Greché? The Greché are Upside’s single
vampire family and are huge.

My
tongue is primed with questions, but I decide to listen to what Alain has to
say first. “Tell me everything, then tell me why I need to know.”

His
nails rattle on the crystal, his expression is flat and hard. “They came
Downside and may have specifically targeted Verity or she happened to be the
first female vampire they came upon. How did they get in and out? The Station
Master looked elsewhere when Gervaise Greché and his henchman came through, and
left with them when they went up with Verity. The miscreant is one of their minions.
He took the position five years ago after a decade of dedicated service to the
city.”

So
the Greché planted one of their people more than fifteen years ago. No time at
all to vampires.

“There
will be an investigation, but it won’t help us get Verity back.”

“How
do you know all this?”

“They
were seen a moment too late. Verity was unconscious, drugged I suspect. They don’t
know they were observed; if they had, the person who saw them wouldn’t be alive
to tell us. I believe that works in our favor, they won’t know you are looking
for her.”

My
eyes narrow. “
Who’s
looking for her?”

He
shrugs shoulders and arms. “We don’t know in which of their houses she is held.
Your job is to find her, report back to us and we’ll do the rest.”

It
clicks into place. The Greché will soon know should Alain’s people venture
Upside in search of Verity. They’ll be alert to begin with. But if Castle and I
locate Verity, Alain’s vampires can swoop on the Greché before they know what
hits them.

With
luck, the Greché won’t know Castle and I are there.

I
swirl liquor in the glass. “Why did they take her?”

“They
grow weak.” The muscles along his shoulders bunch. His eyes, smoldering, snap
to my face. “They need new blood.”

Vampire
blood contains parasites which are passed to humans when they ingest a
vampire’s blood. The parasites alter their physiology and voila! A brand new
baby vampire. A little human blood every now and then keeps the parasites happy
and is provided by willing donors. The tiny symbiotes also need to replicate
every decade, which entails a blood exchange between vampires who have no blood
relationship, meaning another family.

If
these conditions are not met, the parasites struggle to keep the body in
working condition and producing healthy new vampires is low on the list of
priorities. New turns can suffer from morbidity and substandard intelligence;
they are weak and dull-minded.

Downside
vampires are strong, in part because they share blood with other families. A
newly turned vampire who wakes with disabilities is unheard of Downside, but
not Upside. Greché need new blood so their little passengers can reproduce, but
no Downside family will hand over one of their own.

The
Greché had a huge falling out with the other families about fifty years ago and
moved back Upside. When Castle told me about it, we couldn’t believe they didn’t
consider the ramifications of breaking off relationships, but I guess they did,
and planned for it.

My
stomach curdles. Knowing the Peraltas will look for Verity, the Greché don’t
have the luxury of time. They will share Verity among themselves, they’ll drain
her.

“I’ll
talk to Castle.” As much as Castle loathes vampires, I know he will take the
job. However, I can’t speak for him. “And it’ll cost you.”

“Money
is nothing.” Alain smoothly rises to fill his glass with molten gold which cost
him a bundle.

He
usually tries to keep me here with flimsy excuses, but not today. The gargoyles
are still and silent as I cross the courtyard.

Time
to pick up my laundry and head over to Castle’s place.

~*~

Castle
dries the last dish and puts it in the overhead cabinet. He rinses out the
sink, hangs the dish towel on a peg, goes to the living room and settles in his
armchair.

His
gaze roams the room. He’s proud of his home. The house is tidy, spacious and
comfortable, unlike Rain’s sty. Picturing her studio apartment, he winces. All
those bright primary colors.
Ugh.
He understands why she adopted the
garish color scheme when she first moved into the apartment. A desire for color
indicates a new wraith’s insecurity as they labor to accept what they are. But it
was years ago, she doesn’t need it now, yet he can’t talk her into making her
space a little less atrocious on the senses. He rags on her about it, just as
she teases him about the house, calling him an old lady. Giving Rain a hard
time is one of life’s small pleasures.

She’ll
be here soon.

Next
week marks her anniversary, five years since he brought her Downside. It calls
for a celebration. He’ll take her out to the countryside for a picnic. She’s
never been to a picnic. Sitting on the grass with a wicker basket may not sound
exciting, but it’ll be new to Rain. She enjoys new experiences when they are
pleasant.

He
should check his supply of laundry detergent because Rain will forget to bring
any. He hauls up from the chair, and feels a presence behind him seconds before
a weight slams into his back.

Full
flesh pounds into him. He doesn’t go down, but becomes still when a blade
presses to his jugular. The man has an arm around his neck, the other holds his
hand twisted up behind his back. A gods-cursed vampire has him.

“We’re
going to talk,” says a rough voice he doesn’t recognize. “Be honest and I won’t
hurt you.”

“About
what?”

“You
and your partner have been busy lately.”

“Rain?
Whatever you want, leave her out of it.”

“I
can’t do that.”

The
hells with that. He’s Castle, he doesn’t need weapons to take this piece of
shit down. Castle ignores the pain of his twisted limb and grabs the guy’s
wrist with his other hand, forcing it from his neck. The blade kisses his skin,
but only a nick. He yells as his left shoulder dislocates, lifts his knee and
slams the knife-wielding hand down on it.

The
vampire keeps the blade but Castle holds onto his wrist. He tosses his head
back, it cracks the guy’s face with a satisfying crunch and Castle is suddenly
free. He spins and back-steps.

The
pain in his shoulder makes him weave on his feet. His assailant wears black
head to toe except for a slit baring his eyes. Tall as Castle, thinner, but
made all of muscle. He watches the body language and the knife-hand, ready to
blink out, which will mend his shoulder and put him in a better position.

The
man comes at Castle.

Rap
rap rap
. “Castle, you in there?”

~*~

Street
lamps flicker as I trudge to Castle’s place toting a huge duffel bag full of
dirty clothes. Shadows slither up the street. House lights blink out.

I
hope Castle still lets me do my laundry after I tell him about Verity, not a
prospect I look forward to. On second thought, I’ll get my things in the
machine
before
I say anything. I’ll have to make another trip with my
linens, if I can talk him into letting me use his machines again after tonight.

The
porch light is off and also the hall light or it would glimmer through the
glass window in Castle’s front door. But light glows faintly from deeper in the
house. No sound from inside. He must be in the kitchen. I tap the door three
times with my knuckles. “Castle, you in there?”

“He
should be,” a voice says, startling me. “He got home about an hour ago. Haven’t
seen him leave and his car’s still out back.”

Castle’s
neighbor, Jessy, the self-appointed neighborhood watch.

“Oh,
okay, fine. Thanks.” I give the nosy old guy a smile and nod as he walks on
down the street.

I
use my fist on the door this time. “Castle! Open up!”

Maybe
he’s in the shower. I sit on the step for what feels like five minutes.