Silk Over Razor Blades (9 page)

Lenina nodded. ‘Of course I
would.’

He stared. She gazed back,
giving him bland, innocent eyes.

‘What’s all this about the
doctor?’

‘Tristen suggested it.’

The guarded look returned to
Ray’s eyes. ‘Did he?’

‘He thought it would be a good
idea if I had blood tests and some counselling.’

‘I get the counselling. Though
he should have offered you an in-house doctor. You said the man bit
you.’

‘Yes. And I bit back.’ She
frowned. ‘You okay?’

He gazed at his hands. ‘I’m so
sorry this happened to you.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘I’m your father. I’m supposed
to protect you.’

‘How? You were miles away.
Please don’t get weird over this. It’s why I didn’t want to tell
you.’

He nodded, but his eyes gave
away his pain. ‘Let me call the doctor. You lie down.’

Lenina nodded, not knowing what
else to do. After planting a kiss on his cheek she returned to her
room. Shucking the dressing gown, she crawled beneath the duvet and
snuggled down. When the floor boards creaked a short while later,
she considered faking sleep.

‘Chuck? They didn’t have any
appointments for today so you’re booked in for Monday.’

She uncovered her head. ‘Not
even emergency ones?’

‘I tried to explain but the
receptionist said the risks of blood-borne diseases is pretty
low.’

‘The receptionist? What does
she know?’

‘That’s what I said. So I
talked to a doctor. She said the same thing.’ Ray sniffed. ‘So did
the other three.’

‘Daddy . . .’

‘If they’re not even going to
look at you today I want to be sure they know what they’re talking
about. The last one gave me a list of counsellors though. I stuck
it to the fridge.’

‘Thanks, but Tristen already
offered me one.’

The bed springs squealed and
compressed on one side. Lenina peeped out of the duvet to watch her
father sit beside her.

‘Tristen?’

Too late she realised the
error. ‘Sergeant Blake.’

He started chewing his
thumbnail again.

‘What’s wrong, Daddy?’

‘Am I that transparent?’ Ray
folded his hands in his lap and swivelled to face her. ‘Don’t you
think it’s odd that he came here alone?’

A creeping warmth crawled up
Lenina’s neck. She raised the duvet to her chin. ‘No.’

‘I do. Police aren’t supposed
to do that. Something about safety.’

‘Like I’d beat him up?’

‘
You
wouldn’t, chuck,
but yours isn’t his only case. Policemen work in pairs to protect
themselves and the people they see.’

‘Why would
I
need
protection?’

‘Ever heard of police
brutality?’

‘Of course, but he was nothing
but nice to me.’

‘Too nice.’ Ray leaned over the
bed, causing the mattress to complain even more.

The warmth progressed to her
cheeks. ‘He was just doing his job.’

‘Girls like you don’t see it;
you’re too—’ he waved his hand around, as if to pluck a word from
the air, ‘naive.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Men like him prey on girls
like you, taking advantage of their position of power. I’ve seen
predators like him before. He practically licked his lips when he
looked at you.’

Lenina searched for the right
words to disagree. Then she remembered the soft touch of his hand,
the sound of her name falling from his lips. In her mind’s eye,
Lenina saw the deep intensity of Tristen’s gaze as it followed her
through the room. The sexy twist of his smile. She heard the low
rumble of his voice and felt her lower body heat up enough to match
her face. He’d stopped being
Sergeant Blake
some time ago.
She shook her head, fighting to push it all away. The struggle
resembled trying to shift a house from its foundations with her
bare hands, exhausting and impossible.

‘He’s a policeman,’ she said,
hoping her voice didn’t sound as weak as she felt.

‘I don’t care.’ Ray’s hands
made fists on the bed, scrunching up the duvet. ‘Don’t see him by
yourself.’

‘Don’t you trust me? I’m
getting married, remember?’

‘How could I forget?’ He cocked
an eyebrow. ‘My savings account is still screaming for mercy. But,
it’s not you I distrust.’

‘What could he possibly do to
me?’

‘Wouldn’t you prefer not to
find out?’

Another shiver rippled down her
spine, this one like the tickle of a warm, teasing finger. She bit
her lip.

Mistaking the gesture, Ray
grasped her shoulder. ‘I don’t want to frighten you, but that man
is trouble. Good men go bad all the time. It doesn’t take much. All
the goodwill and morals in the world mean nothing in the face of
something you really want.’

She smiled. ‘Some bus drivers
can’t be saved, right?’

‘I wasn’t always a bus driver.
Please be careful.’

Lenina nodded; she’d seen the
medals and heard the stories enough times. ‘I will.’

Ray’s shoulders relaxed. A
smile returned to his lips. ‘Thank you.’ He kissed her forehead,
stood and walked to the door. ‘Do you want me to stick around for
when you wake up?’

‘Don’t you have work?’

‘Not today.’

She considered asking him to
stay. The idea that he might be around to hug her when she woke,
appealed more than felt comfortable to her grown-up self. It took
her back to her childhood days and the dark, winter nights in which
he’d told her fun stories to protect her from monsters beneath the
bed. The days in which she was still his
Little
Woodchuck
.

Then she thought of Tristen and
the greedy way his eyes drank in the features of her face. She
pressed her thighs together and moistened her lips with the tip of
her tongue. Lenina found herself wondering what it might be like to
feel those eyes caress the rest of her body. To feel his hands
stroke her bare skin. To feel his lips against her ear as he
whispered her name.

‘I’ll be fine. Go home.’

‘Call me when you wake up.’
Ray’s voice saved her from the fantasy. ‘I’ll answer, even if I’m
driving.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I
will. Promise.’

He loitered long enough to give
her a tight smile. ‘Bye, chuck.’

28 January 31 BC

Saar finished drinking and let the body
slide to the ground. He wiped a hand across his mouth and allowed
himself a few moments to acclimatise to the new memories. They came
in a colourful blur. A shady mud hut surrounded by flowers. A
smiling woman with short, silver hair. Three naked children. The
market place in Rhakotis. The limestone quarries.

Each memory of the dead man transferred
to Saar through the drinking of blood and he collected them, piling
the stranger’s life into the growing store belonging to dead men
and women.

He sat in one of the low wooden
chairs around a cloth-covered table. A cool breeze whispered
through the chamber, product of the incredible design employed by
the palace engineers. High arches, open windows and long corridors
funnelled the north wind through the building where it spiralled
into each room bringing with it the cleanliness of the breeze and,
on some days, the salt of the sea.
One
day
, Saar mused,
I’ll see the sea
properly. Sail on it. Visit distant lands
.

The room, given over to entertaining
important guests, had several terracotta pots mounted on
gate-legged stands. They formed a uniform row along one wall above
which were several shelves housing linen, rolls of papyri and
jewellery. Opposite, four lamps set on pedestals awaited the coming
of night.

All quite different to the memories of
the man on the ground. His home comprised two rooms, built with
plain mud brick and floored with rushes. A single set of steps
afforded entry to the roof and the second room housed two clay
ovens, three chairs and a rickety table of rotting wood.

Saar shook himself and pushed the
memories aside.

Beside him, Kiya leaned over the
cooling body, eyes closed. ‘You have an amazing skill, dear love. I
envy it. You could learn anything about anyone.’

He rubbed the back of his neck.
‘Perhaps, but there is only so much space within me for all these
lives. I can’t keep collecting them.’

Opening her eyes, she smiled, stood and
tugged at one of the wooden chests between the oil lamp pedestals.
‘You can do anything.’ Her delicate fingers picked out the
paintings on the lid, vivid depictions of the sun god and his
consorts.

‘
You think so?’

‘
I know. You prove it
daily.’

Her pride warmed Saar’s heart. Leaving
the chair, he scooped up the dead body, slung it over his shoulder
and carried it to the waiting chest. ‘I’m but a man.’

‘
A great one. Your plans will see
our city safe, our people protected. The gods did well in choosing
you.’

He grinned, bending long enough to kiss
her upturned lips. She reached up, trying to pull him closer, but
he slithered free and gestured to the dead man on his shoulder.
‘First this.’

Kiya dropped her gaze, an exaggerated
display of coquettish innocence that only a fool would believe. She
opened the chest with a flourish and removed the rolls of cloth
from inside. When Saar placed the body within, she spread the cloth
on top and closed the lid.

‘
Now may I distract you?’

‘
Of course.’ He caught her as she
flung herself into his arms and whirled them both in a tight
circle. She clung to him, giggling, long hair flying behind
her.

When he stopped, she leaned close,
breathing hard against his nose and jaw. This close he could see
the streaks within the blue paint around her eyes, the shadow of
her long lashes on her cheeks.

‘
You’re so beautiful,’ he
whispered.

She kissed his forehead, stroking
both hands through his shaggy dark hair. ‘Now
you
distract me.’

‘
From?’

‘
You promised we would visit
Panya.’

Saar thought of the shabby mud hut in
which his ageing mother lived, and sighed. He chewed his thumbnail.
‘Why will she not come here? She has permission, she would be
safer. Cared for.’

‘
Pride, dear love. You’re the
same.’

He opened his mouth to answer, but the
sound of approaching footsteps stole the words. A glance at Kiya
conveyed his need and she bent to the chest, shoving it with such
force that it shot across the tiled floor and back into place
against the wall. Not a moment too soon.

The owner of those steps appeared in
the arched doorway. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you at rest, Saar, but we
must speak.’

Saar grinned, forgetting worry for his
mother, the dead man in the chest and even Kiya. He rushed to the
doorway and embraced the newcomer. ‘Mosi, it’s good to see
you.’

Mosi remained stiff, his shoulders and
spine locked against the hug. Though he didn’t fight the embrace,
neither did he return it. He gazed at the floor without
speaking.

Never before has he refused my
touch.

Saar let his hands slide free of his
second lover’s shoulders. He felt the strong, subtle muscles and
battle-roughened skin and likened it to his own.

When Mosi refused to speak, Saar gazed
at the younger man and reached out along the invisible line that
linked their minds together. Though he flinched, Mosi lowered his
mental shield, apparently ready to endure the invasion of his
thoughts rather than speak them aloud.

What Saar found at the end of that line
made him cold all over. He stared, watching the other man shift his
weight from foot to foot. ‘Kiya,’ he said, without looking away.
‘Please leave us.’

She rushed forward and clung to his
arm. ‘No. I would stay with you.’

He pulled away, still staring at
Mosi.

Kiya’s gaze bored into his back. Her
fury rushed along the similar invisible bond they shared and hit
his senses like a chariot charge. He stumbled and, finally, looked
away from Mosi to search her face.

Anger bled into her features, twisting
her lips, furrowing her brow. Traces of black, like ink, crept into
her eyes and swallowed the brown colour he loved so much. And the
white around them. Soon her eyes resembled two empty pits, wells
into the depth of her fury.

‘
Anything you would to say to him,
you may say to me. Are we not equal in your love?’

Saar took a deep breath. He felt the
familiar tingle across his skin and beneath his eyelids which told
him that his own eyes had made the same transformation, filling
with black until the whites were all enveloped. ‘I won’t pander to
your jealousy today, Kiya. Do as I say.’

‘
This isn’t jealousy, this is right
and wrong. Why should I be shunned whenever he sees fit to
visit?’

Gripping her shoulders, Saar spun her
around and shoved her towards the painted archway. She stumbled and
only a snatching grasp at the wall saved her from falling.

‘
Saar—’

‘
Get out,’ he hissed.

Kiya paled from her chin to the top of
her forehead. With a final glare at Mosi, she spun on her heel and
stalked away.

Only when her rapid footsteps faded
from even the range of his incredible hearing did Saar relax. He
puffed a heavy breath through his nose and returned to the wooden
chair, slumping down, head cupped in his hands.

A bitter taste filled his mouth at the
thought of his foul treatment.

Mosi followed, standing before the
chair with his hands clasped behind his back. His young face was
pinched with distaste. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

‘
I did.’

‘
She’ll hate me more than
ever.’