Bloodfever
Page 16
Then you might just stay alive. Where were you today?
Didnt Fiona tell you? I was learning from his tricks: answer a question with a question. Distract. Evade.
She was hardly forthcoming when Ifired her. There was a hesitation before the word fired, nearly imperceptible unless you knew the man.
What if she comes back around and tries to hurt me again?
Not a worry. Where were you?
I told him about the Garda, that Id spent the day at the station, that ODuffy was dead.
And they think you slit the throat of a man nearly twice your size? He snorted. Thats absurd.
A sudden, deep quietude blanketed my mind. I hadnt told Barrons how ODuffy had died. Yeah, well, I blustered around it, you know how cops are. By the way, where have you been lately? I could have used help a few times in the past twenty-four hours.
You seem to have done well enough on your own. You had your new friend, Vlane, to assist you. He said the name in a way that made the prince sound like a prancy little fairy, not the virile, lethally seductive Fae he was. What happened to my window out back?
I wasnt about to admit to a man who already knew how ODuffy had died that I knew he was keeping some kind of monster under his garage. I shrugged. I dont know. What?
Its broken. Did you hear anything last night?
Had my hands a little full, Barrons.
Of Shades, not Vlane, one hopes.
Ha.
You werent in my garage, were you?
No.
You wouldnt lie to me, would you?
Of course not. No more than you would lie to me, I didnt add, honesty among thieves and all.
Well, then, good night, Ms. Lane. He inclined his head and whisked silently through the connecting doors, into the rear of the building.
I sighed and began collecting the various books and baubles Id knocked from the display table. I couldnt wrap my brain around the thought that Fiona had sneaked in last night and turned off all the lights. Chase me away, my petunia. That woman had wanted me dead. I couldnt imagine anyone knowing Barrons well enough to develop such strong feelings for him. Still, I knew there was something between the two of them, if only the intimacy and deep possession of long association.
From the rear of the building came a howl of outrage. A moment later Barrons exploded through the connecting doors, dragging a Persian rug behind him.
What is this? he demanded.
A rug? I batted my lashes, thinking what a stupid question.
I know its a rug. What arethese? He thrust it beneath my nose, stabbing a finger at the dozen or so burn marks.
I peered at them. Burns?
Burns from dropped matches, Ms. Lane? Matches one might have dropped while flirting with a pernicious Fae, Ms. Lane? Have you any idea the value of this rug?
I didnt think his nostrils could flare any wider. His eyes were black flame. Pernicious? Good grief, is English your second language? Third? Only someone whod learned English from a dictionary would use such a word.
Fifth, he snarled. Answer me.
Not more than my life, Barrons. Nothing is worth more than my life.
He glared at me. I notched my chin higher and glared back.
Barrons and I have a unique way of communicating. We have these little nonverbal conversations, where we say all those things we dont say with our mouths with our eyes instead, and we understand each other perfectly.
I didnt say, You are such a stuffy asshole.
And he didnt say, If you ever burn one of my quarter-of-a-million dollar rugs again Ill take it out of your hide, and I didnt say, Oh, honey, wouldnt you like to? And he didnt say Grow up, Ms. Lane, I dont take little girls to my bed, and I didnt say I wouldnt go there if it was the only safe place from the Lord Master in all of Dublin.
You might reconsider that one day. His voice was low, fierce, on the verge of guttural.
I gasped. What? Intrinsic to our wordless free-for-alls was a tacit agreement never to elevate those conversations to a verbal level. It was the only reason either of us was willing to participate.
He gave me a cool smile. That nothing is worth more than your life, Ms. Lane. Some things are. Dont put too high a premium on it. You may live to regret it.
He turned and walked away, dragging the rug behind him.
I went to bed.
The next morning I woke up, dismantled my haphazard monster alarm, opened the door, and found a small TV with a builtin VCR/DVD player sitting in the hallway.
Manna from heaven! Id been thinking, since Fiona was gone, about swiping the one she kept behind the counter. Now I wouldnt have to.
There was a tape next to it.
I toted the TV into my room, plugged it into the wall, slipped in the tape, and turned it on. The program was already cued.
I winced and turned it back off. I kicked a chair.
Every time I think Im getting smarter I realize that Ive just done something stupid. Dad says there are three kinds of people in the world: those who dont know, and dont know they dont know; those who dont know and do know they dont know; and those who know and know how much they still dont know.
Didnt Fiona tell you? I was learning from his tricks: answer a question with a question. Distract. Evade.
She was hardly forthcoming when Ifired her. There was a hesitation before the word fired, nearly imperceptible unless you knew the man.
What if she comes back around and tries to hurt me again?
Not a worry. Where were you?
I told him about the Garda, that Id spent the day at the station, that ODuffy was dead.
And they think you slit the throat of a man nearly twice your size? He snorted. Thats absurd.
A sudden, deep quietude blanketed my mind. I hadnt told Barrons how ODuffy had died. Yeah, well, I blustered around it, you know how cops are. By the way, where have you been lately? I could have used help a few times in the past twenty-four hours.
You seem to have done well enough on your own. You had your new friend, Vlane, to assist you. He said the name in a way that made the prince sound like a prancy little fairy, not the virile, lethally seductive Fae he was. What happened to my window out back?
I wasnt about to admit to a man who already knew how ODuffy had died that I knew he was keeping some kind of monster under his garage. I shrugged. I dont know. What?
Its broken. Did you hear anything last night?
Had my hands a little full, Barrons.
Of Shades, not Vlane, one hopes.
Ha.
You werent in my garage, were you?
No.
You wouldnt lie to me, would you?
Of course not. No more than you would lie to me, I didnt add, honesty among thieves and all.
Well, then, good night, Ms. Lane. He inclined his head and whisked silently through the connecting doors, into the rear of the building.
I sighed and began collecting the various books and baubles Id knocked from the display table. I couldnt wrap my brain around the thought that Fiona had sneaked in last night and turned off all the lights. Chase me away, my petunia. That woman had wanted me dead. I couldnt imagine anyone knowing Barrons well enough to develop such strong feelings for him. Still, I knew there was something between the two of them, if only the intimacy and deep possession of long association.
From the rear of the building came a howl of outrage. A moment later Barrons exploded through the connecting doors, dragging a Persian rug behind him.
What is this? he demanded.
A rug? I batted my lashes, thinking what a stupid question.
I know its a rug. What arethese? He thrust it beneath my nose, stabbing a finger at the dozen or so burn marks.
I peered at them. Burns?
Burns from dropped matches, Ms. Lane? Matches one might have dropped while flirting with a pernicious Fae, Ms. Lane? Have you any idea the value of this rug?
I didnt think his nostrils could flare any wider. His eyes were black flame. Pernicious? Good grief, is English your second language? Third? Only someone whod learned English from a dictionary would use such a word.
Fifth, he snarled. Answer me.
Not more than my life, Barrons. Nothing is worth more than my life.
He glared at me. I notched my chin higher and glared back.
Barrons and I have a unique way of communicating. We have these little nonverbal conversations, where we say all those things we dont say with our mouths with our eyes instead, and we understand each other perfectly.
I didnt say, You are such a stuffy asshole.
And he didnt say, If you ever burn one of my quarter-of-a-million dollar rugs again Ill take it out of your hide, and I didnt say, Oh, honey, wouldnt you like to? And he didnt say Grow up, Ms. Lane, I dont take little girls to my bed, and I didnt say I wouldnt go there if it was the only safe place from the Lord Master in all of Dublin.
You might reconsider that one day. His voice was low, fierce, on the verge of guttural.
I gasped. What? Intrinsic to our wordless free-for-alls was a tacit agreement never to elevate those conversations to a verbal level. It was the only reason either of us was willing to participate.
He gave me a cool smile. That nothing is worth more than your life, Ms. Lane. Some things are. Dont put too high a premium on it. You may live to regret it.
He turned and walked away, dragging the rug behind him.
I went to bed.
The next morning I woke up, dismantled my haphazard monster alarm, opened the door, and found a small TV with a builtin VCR/DVD player sitting in the hallway.
Manna from heaven! Id been thinking, since Fiona was gone, about swiping the one she kept behind the counter. Now I wouldnt have to.
There was a tape next to it.
I toted the TV into my room, plugged it into the wall, slipped in the tape, and turned it on. The program was already cued.
I winced and turned it back off. I kicked a chair.
Every time I think Im getting smarter I realize that Ive just done something stupid. Dad says there are three kinds of people in the world: those who dont know, and dont know they dont know; those who dont know and do know they dont know; and those who know and know how much they still dont know.
