Falling Apart (16 page)

He stopped and looked at me expectantly. I looked back. ‘Am I supposed to be going “Ooh, yes,” to this?' I said. ‘Because, so far, all you've done is give me visions of vamps telling one another scary bedtime stories.'

He stood up again. ‘No, Jessica. I merely wondered if this had been mentioned to you. I can see that it has not. Since you do not wish my help, and you are beginning down a path that will only lead to further argument, I will bid you goodnight.'

‘I'm not beginning any—' But he'd done the vampire thing and faded his way out of the room, leaving nothing behind but that bone-cold sensation still around my wrist and the smell of citrus fruit. ‘Weirdo. Don't let the Twelve come and get you!' I called and went back to turning the pages of my journal. And then stopped. I stared, unprepared for the rising of the emotion that came with the headline: ‘Werewolf Threat Prevented' above the standard-issue head-and-shoulders shot of Cameron James MacDonald, his rumpled hair above wide brown eyes and a cheeky grin. My heart pulled itself close to my ribs for protection as I skim-read the article I already knew word for word. Cameron, my gay best friend and, for his protection, my pretend boyfriend, had been alleged to be forming an alliance of were-creatures in order to overthrow the Treaty – and had been shot down by Enforcement. More than a year had passed and I still felt that horrible, powerless dread. I couldn't wade in and tell everyone that Cam was gathering together all the gay shifters so they could form their own, self-protecting pack without setting the homophobic were-world into a general panic, so I'd had to keep it all to myself. Let Cam go down as a loose cannon, a rabble-rousing troublemaker, when he'd been the gentlest, sweetest man, and a well-behaved and surprisingly house-trained wolf.

Under the picture of Cam was a photograph of the aftermath of the Enforcement attack. A crowd of Britain for Humans supporters were triumphant at what they saw as another element removed from the planet, waving pre-Treaty flags and cheering. Mouths open as they yelled their delight at the death of someone who wouldn't have harmed a human if his life depended upon it, and their names pencilled underneath; I'd found out who they were and made sure I would remember, for their joy at Cam's destruction, for their sheer hatred of the Otherworld. My stomach ached for a moment with the wish that time could be turned back, that I could have seen what was happening then and prevented it somehow. That I could have told Cameron not to go that day. I gritted my teeth. Heard, in the back of my memory, that laughing Scots voice telling me not to be so scared of everything, things would work out, he knew what he was doing …

I'd failed Cam. Another sharp tug in the region of my ribs, and I closed my eyes.
Sil alive and safe, that's all I want, and I truly can't see a way out of this
 …
but I will not fail you too.

Sil stared at the CCTV footage. Felt the black hole where he should be able to recall, the shivering mirage that was his memory of London as he watched himself, suited and business-like, parking the big Mercedes on the Embankment, getting out and locking the door. Glancing each way down the road for oncoming traffic and then walking confidently across and in through the doorway opposite.

And I remember nothing. This film is as strange to me as those photographs of Jess in the cupboard upstairs. Was I truly there?
With an effort he could feel running down the connection between himself and his demon, he tried to remember. But there was nothing. Just a seamless transition between being here, being with Jess, curled around her body, watching her sleep – and the blood. The sudden, heaving hunger and a new freedom which had beckoned him into the crowd …

He shook his head.
I will not remember that now.
With practised ease he pushed the memories down, deep down, beneath even those of his wife and children.
More pain to forget, more emotion that I dare not allow.
And a sudden memory that he
had
to allow, Jess turning to him with her golden eyes flashing an anger he rarely saw, her reckless hair trailing a marker behind her as she spun round, her lips already framing the words ‘don't you
dare
' and, despite it all, he smiled.
It's all right, Jessie. I've learned that particular lesson; I learned it hard and I learned it from you – let yourself feel. For without feeling, there can be no love, and the love we have is the only thing that keeps me going right now.

He rewound the film, taken with the protocols that Liam had sent down to him, one of the many hours of footage he'd forced himself to sit through, scanning for anything which might give him some clue as to what he'd been doing in London …

The dream had doughnuts in. And one of them was beeping.

I opened my eyes to see my phone, screen flashing, right up against my forehead and took a few moments to remember that (a) I was in bed, in my room in Vamp Central, a bed like something that Louis XIV might have come up with in a fevered nightmare, (b) my mobile was ringing and (c) it was somewhere to the left of the middle of the night.

‘What?' I irritably tapped at the screen until the phone stopped ringing, and reasoned that I must be talking to the person who'd woken me from a rather nice, if fattening, dream. ‘Am I the only person around here who ever needs to sleep?' And then, with a sudden fear dawning, I said, ‘Mum? What's happened, is something wrong?' Clutching at the duvet as though the stuffing could shield me from awfulness.

‘Jess.' A single outbreath, containing more emotion than should be possible for one syllable.

‘
Sil
,' I hissed in a whisper; I was very aware that Zan didn't sleep, and regarded the night hours as a suitable time to pace the landings. The Addams family could have used him as a mascot. ‘You—'

‘I have been reviewing security camera tapes from London.' His voice was back to normal now, each word equally weighted. I clutched at my phone so hard that the plastic made a little cracking sound, trying to force myself closer to him through electronics. ‘And I think I may have found something.'

There was a jolt in the middle of my chest, my heart catching in its rhythm. ‘Found something in a good way, or bad?'

‘I am unsure.'

We breathed at one another for a moment. ‘I feel I should point out that being enigmatic is lovely, very cool and everything, but it's not going to stop a Hunter putting a bullet through your head, whereas I just might be able to, if you
give me something to work with
.' I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. ‘So, start talking, bitey-boy, or I shall give them your address right now, and I'll probably offer to hold their coats while they aim.'

‘Why are you so irritable, Jessica?' Sil's voice held a guarded amusement, as though he was relieved simply to be able to talk.

‘Because it's the middle of the sodding night, your boss could come storming through this door at any minute, and I was having a really nice dream, which you interrupted for no real reason other than that you seem to be a bit bored.' I began hunting around the floor for clothes. ‘So you either give me something solid to go on here, or I'm hanging up and putting my head under the pillow for another five hours.'

‘I have found out where I went. Before I … before the attacks.'

I dropped the phone and then had to paddle around in the darkness that filled this cavernous room, patting the floor in search of it. There was no lamp and the light switch was over by the door, five acres and a swamp away. I think it was deliberate on Zan's part, giving me a large, dark room, where the furniture all looked as though it had been stolen from a Goth version of Versailles. I eventually kicked against it, and snatched it gratefully to my ear again. ‘You've … how?'

‘Used Liam's protocols to hook into the council. Thought I'd try to find the moment when I left the car, see which direction I walked, whether I was alone or …' He stopped and coughed. I carefully didn't say anything. ‘Trying to obtain a clue, some idea as to my state of mind, my motives.' Now his voice held a shiver, his demon was making its presence felt; either nerves or excitement or dread were driving Sil now. ‘I went into the Records Office, Jess.'

Well that explained why I hadn't seen him on any of the loops I'd looked at, I'd not considered that he might have gone into any of the government offices alongside the Embankment; I'd thought he'd only parked the car there because there was a space. I'd been looking for him in the wrong place.

‘And what did you do there?'

A swallow. ‘I … I don't know. I'm …' He stopped talking; even the sound of his breathing at the other end of the line became faint, as though he'd covered the handset. ‘I think I may be afraid.'

It wasn't unheard of for vampires to drop in at the Records Office, the place where human births, deaths and marriages were filed and had been stored since before the Troubles. A lot of vampires liked to keep in touch with family, although I thought there was something decidedly odd about turning up to visit your great-grandchildren when you were younger than them and infinitely sexier. ‘Okay. So. At least we have something.'

‘Why would I go there, Jess? My family … my line is gone. I had no siblings; my children …' Another small swallow.

‘I know,' I said gently. His children had died in a flu outbreak and he, as vampire, hadn't even been allowed to attend the funeral. ‘But this is good: finally we have a lead. Would the Record Office have anything on why you might have been there? Any signing-in documents or anything like that?'

‘I checked – there is an online booking system, but it appears that I turned up without prior arrangement and searched without assistance. I need help on this one, Jessie.'

‘Sssssshhhh!'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘I heard …'—I dropped my voice to even more of a whisper—‘outside my door. I think Zan is shuffling around on the landing.'

‘So why do I have to be quiet? He can't hear me.'

I listened again, but there were no further sounds. Either Zan had moved on, reassured, or he was standing with his ear pressed to my door. ‘We need Liam,' I barely breathed down the line. ‘I daren't come to you; I think Zan might be suspicious.'

‘Zan is always suspicious. It is how he has remained alive for so long.'

‘That and the fact that he's mostly hidden behind huge pieces of electronic equipment. To do Zan any damage you'd need a tungsten-carbide round and a map. Stay put, Sil, and keep trying to track yourself down.'

There was a sigh from his end of the phone. ‘And where, exactly, would I go? Bearing in mind that I am wanted by more people than Mick Jagger right now?'

‘
Mick Jagger?
Seriously? That's the best you can come up with?'

‘Forgive me for not keeping up to date with desirable males, but I am largely heterosexual and also just a little in hiding. If you wish me to be more current, then I suggest you give me twenty minutes alone with your magazine collection.'

I hung up. Sil and I were still new to this ‘relationship' thing, and arguing had been our default position for so long that we were better at it than coy acquiescence; we could be bickering over the latest sexy hunks for the rest of the night. I rang Liam.

‘I need you to phone me in three minutes. Loudly, please.'

‘Wow.' Bleary fumbling sounds underneath his words indicated that he was trying to get out of bed. ‘We're not having the “shouted argument that leads to phone sex to embarrass anyone listening into hanging up” thing are we? Because I might need a bit of a warm up for that one, it's three a.m. and I didn't get Charlotte off to sleep until midnight.'

‘Good thought, but no. I need to be a bit more direct on this one,' I said. ‘This is important. Sil has found something out, and we need to get right onto it, I'm not sure how much time we've got before someone finds him up there. I can't just jump up and go because … old fang-face suspects that I know something, and he'd probably follow me, so … I need you.'

I heard a sleepy comment as Liam's girlfriend, Sarah, muttered something. ‘What did she say?'

‘Nothing.' Liam's voice was tight. ‘She's just a bit … upset at the hours I'm putting in. I'm getting dressed now. Presuming you're going to want me, yes? I mean, no chance I get to lie in and wake up when it's all over bar the shouting, screaming and the obligatory slap-up dinner? I only went into this job because it was this or car mechanics, and I wouldn't know a head gasket from a … well, that's pretty much the only bit of a car I can name.'

‘If you call me to the office, I'll meet you there. Even Zan can't be suspicious about me going to work since it's pretty much the only place I ever go. Put a note in the diary, would you, when we get there, under tomorrow. “Get a Life.” '

‘Right, okay.' There was the scuffing, underwater sound of the receiver being covered and a private conversation being held. Then Liam was back, sounding a little artificial. ‘So, what are we going into the office to do? Seriously, Jess, if I'd known that being a sidekick was going to get me out of bed at this time in the morning I'd have auditioned for villain, you know. At least villains get a straight eight hours.'

‘We need to look over the footage he found. It might all be a red herring – he might have gone on somewhere else – but I need to know the exact timestamp on the thing. And you're a five per-center too, so we'll be able to spot any Otherworlders in case he wasn't alone.'
Or in case he was with a woman but doesn't want to tell me that bit
.

There was a small pause. I didn't want to break it because I thought it was occasioned by Liam putting his clothes on, and I really did
not
want any elucidation on that subject, but eventually he was back on the line, slightly breathless.

‘Okay, I'm ready. Calling you back in five, four, three …'

I hung up just in time for my phone to start ringing again. I answered it, and almost shouted down the line. ‘You REALLY expect me to come into the office at this time of night?'

‘Do I have to talk, or can I do the usual thing of keeping quiet and hoping that you shout yourself into submission?' Liam said cautiously.

‘Well, yes, I suppose so,' I answered, one ear on the subtle lack of noise coming from the other side of my bedroom door; Zan was there, I knew it. Listening.

‘You know I've always liked dominant women,' Liam went on, conversationally. ‘But it's nice to have a chance to chat and know that you really can't answer back.'

‘Oh, really?'

‘Yes. I mean, this thing with Sil, you know I'm on your side, Jess, whatever happens, if everything goes completely mammaries-skywards, I'll still be here, but you need to be careful if anyone from York Council finds out. Could be your job on the line, and while I'm more than happy working for you, I'm not sure I'd want to work for
another
shouty person with control issues.'

‘You …' I started, and then remembered the point of the conversation. ‘Right. Office in ten minutes.' And then, eavesdropper or no eavesdropper, ‘I do
not
have control issues!'

Liam just snorted and hung up. I waited for a moment, gave a heavy sigh, and began making loud noises as though I were just dragging myself out of bed and searching for clothes, rather than standing up already half-dressed.

When I opened the bedroom door, Zan was nowhere to be seen, but as I reached the front door he loomed up out of the subterranean darkness of the hallway, like the Gatekeeper of hell waiting for an Amazon delivery. ‘Jessica? It is late.'

‘Technically, it's early, but since I'm not getting overtime anyway it doesn't really matter. Liam just rang, we have to get into the office – there's some kind of problem with the Tracker program. It hasn't switched over to Head Office and they can't see what's happening on the streets.'

This had happened a few times, perhaps something to do with Liam building our computer system out of shoeboxes and gaffer-tape and powering it with something that made clockwork look like cutting-edge technology.

Zan nodded. ‘It is time your system was upgraded. Perhaps we should enquire into merging our two offices: running the city from one location would be far more efficient and we could use the same resource-base.'

I pulled my jacket down from where it hung behind the front door. ‘Nice idea, Zan, but I'm not sure I could stand sharing with a man who thinks chaos is putting some of your pencils the wrong way up in the box.' I gave him a grin which, from his expression, encompassed my belief that bedlam and anarchy were the two essential operating systems for any council department, and left the House of Grim.