By Blood We Live
Page 34
Neither of us needed to feed. Not, in my case, because I was full, but because my system was still raw from the Turning. Justine would need blood three nights from now. Her first human.
With the vault door locked, we showered (there’s a walk-in down here) and got ready for bed. Justine’s face, scrubbed of its make-up, looked young and surprised and tired. Without the practicalities to distract us what she’d kept her mouth shut about was between us like an embarrassed third person, shuffling and clearing its throat. The longer we ignored it now, the worse it would get.
“I know what you’re afraid of, angel,” I said. I was lying on the vault’s bed, undressed but for a pair of black Calvins. She was in crisp white t-shirt and panties, sitting on the edge with her back to me. We’ve seen each other naked often enough (she knows there’s no sex in me, knew it from that first moment in Manhattan; it was what tipped her scales) and we’ve always been physically affectionate, but the secret she’d kept from me had thrown up tension around her body. I’d stayed out of her mind so far, but she knew that had been my choice, not hers. Now there was defeat in her small shoulder blades. “It’s all right,” I said. “I understand. But you’re worrying needlessly.”
“Am I?” she said.
“You think I’m going to leave you.”
“You are.”
“Listen to me. I’ll never leave you. Not like that.”
“Not like that.” Sarcastic emphasis. She sounded exhausted. Torn by regret already, only twenty-four hours old.
“Listen to me,” I said. “I’ll be in your life, with you, living with you for as long as you want me.”
“No, you won’t. Three’s a crowd.”
“That’s not it. That’s not—”
“It won’t work anyway if you can’t fuck her. I don’t know much but I know that.”
“Justine, listen to me. It’s not about that.” (It’s not only about that, I should have said. And besides, apparently … No. Better not go into that.)
“Right. I forgot. It’s about ‘the prophecy.’ The big fulfilment. And by the way how exactly are you going to ‘join the blood of the werewolf’? Just following her around gave you dementia and nearly fucking killed you. Some fulfilment.”
She got down off the edge of the mattress and went to the vault door. For a second I thought she was going to walk out. Daylight fear rushed my skin. I opened my mouth to say “Don’t!” But she reached for her leather jacket hanging there and went into one of the pockets. Took out a pack of American Spirits and lit one. Then lit another for me. Smoking’s integrity: Two people, mid-combat, the etiquette of shared vice endures.
“Look what happened,” she said, handing me the cigarette. “As soon as she came on the scene everything started going wrong. You disappear for days on end. I get a phone call from fucking Alaska. You were so sick I thought you were going to fucking die. It was like dealing with …” She turned away. “Actually forget it.”
“I’m aware of how insane it must seem.”
“No, you’re not.” Very rational. Very subdued. “You’re really not.”
Vor klez fanim va gargim din gammou-jhi. Translation: “When he joins the blood of the werewolf.” One of the prophecies. One of my prophecies. Written down in The Book of Remshi. The only prophecy that mattered to me anymore.
“Do you really believe it?” Justine asked. Her little face looked drained. “Just tell me, honestly, that you believe, I mean really believe, that a woman—a werewolf you were in love with thousands of years ago, who died, has come back as … I mean can you hear this? Can you hear what this sounds like?”
“Yes, angel, I can hear what it sounds like.”
“Do you believe it?”
I wanted, you’ve no idea how much, to give her a simple yes or no. But either would have been a lie. “It’s something I have to do,” I said. “It’s … I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Juss. One doesn’t like the word ‘destiny,’ but …”
There’s that phrase you have: Someone walked over my grave. For when the future’s cold ether reaches back into your warm present and touches your shrinking skin. Years ago, when I’d kept journals to pass the time I’d written: It’s either/or. Either the world contains magic—dreams, portents, visions, signs, clues, synchronicities, maddening oblique gestures to a hidden meaning—or it does not. There are no grey areas. It’s one or the other …
“Destiny,” Justine repeated, then laughed, sans amusement. “Fluff, it’s just the same face, that’s all. Everyone’s got a double walking around, even in their own lifetime. We’ve probably both got doubles right here in LA. In five hundred years the same face must turn up … I don’t know. In a thousand years? Ten thousand?”
“I know,” I said, with a gentleness I knew would only make her more desperate. “I’ve seen them.”
“So why this time? Why her?”
There was nothing to tell her except the feeble truth. My hands filled with weakness at the thought. “I felt it,” I said. “That night in Big Sur. I felt it. And I started having the dream.”
“What dream?”
Ah. Shouldn’t have said that. It wouldn’t help. Nothing by way of explanation would help. She didn’t want explanation. She wanted me to forget the whole thing.
“What dream?” More exhaustion. And a hint of derision. Dreams! she was thinking. Destiny, prophecies, dreams. Sure, why not?
“You don’t dream, you said.”
“Forget it. It’s not—”
“Tell me.”
It would be worse not to, now. Now that I’d opened my big mouth that’s learned nothing in twenty millennia.
“I’ve been having this dream,” I said. “When I woke up last night I thought it was the first time I’d had it, but now I know I’ve had it before. I’ve been having it since I saw Talulla. Before that I hadn’t dreamed since Vali died.”
I was ready for her to ask what the dream was, but she didn’t. The fact of a dream, the fact that a dream was involved, disgusted her. Dreams were in the same bag as Meaning and Things Happening For A Reason and God. And yet now that I had opened my big mouth, I felt relieved. “I know it’s something,” I said. “This beach I’ve been dreaming about. I know I have to find it. It’s a real place, though I haven’t the faintest idea where it is. I thought you might help me look for it. I thought we might travel together. It’ll be different for you, now we’re the same. There are so many places I want to show you.”
With the vault door locked, we showered (there’s a walk-in down here) and got ready for bed. Justine’s face, scrubbed of its make-up, looked young and surprised and tired. Without the practicalities to distract us what she’d kept her mouth shut about was between us like an embarrassed third person, shuffling and clearing its throat. The longer we ignored it now, the worse it would get.
“I know what you’re afraid of, angel,” I said. I was lying on the vault’s bed, undressed but for a pair of black Calvins. She was in crisp white t-shirt and panties, sitting on the edge with her back to me. We’ve seen each other naked often enough (she knows there’s no sex in me, knew it from that first moment in Manhattan; it was what tipped her scales) and we’ve always been physically affectionate, but the secret she’d kept from me had thrown up tension around her body. I’d stayed out of her mind so far, but she knew that had been my choice, not hers. Now there was defeat in her small shoulder blades. “It’s all right,” I said. “I understand. But you’re worrying needlessly.”
“Am I?” she said.
“You think I’m going to leave you.”
“You are.”
“Listen to me. I’ll never leave you. Not like that.”
“Not like that.” Sarcastic emphasis. She sounded exhausted. Torn by regret already, only twenty-four hours old.
“Listen to me,” I said. “I’ll be in your life, with you, living with you for as long as you want me.”
“No, you won’t. Three’s a crowd.”
“That’s not it. That’s not—”
“It won’t work anyway if you can’t fuck her. I don’t know much but I know that.”
“Justine, listen to me. It’s not about that.” (It’s not only about that, I should have said. And besides, apparently … No. Better not go into that.)
“Right. I forgot. It’s about ‘the prophecy.’ The big fulfilment. And by the way how exactly are you going to ‘join the blood of the werewolf’? Just following her around gave you dementia and nearly fucking killed you. Some fulfilment.”
She got down off the edge of the mattress and went to the vault door. For a second I thought she was going to walk out. Daylight fear rushed my skin. I opened my mouth to say “Don’t!” But she reached for her leather jacket hanging there and went into one of the pockets. Took out a pack of American Spirits and lit one. Then lit another for me. Smoking’s integrity: Two people, mid-combat, the etiquette of shared vice endures.
“Look what happened,” she said, handing me the cigarette. “As soon as she came on the scene everything started going wrong. You disappear for days on end. I get a phone call from fucking Alaska. You were so sick I thought you were going to fucking die. It was like dealing with …” She turned away. “Actually forget it.”
“I’m aware of how insane it must seem.”
“No, you’re not.” Very rational. Very subdued. “You’re really not.”
Vor klez fanim va gargim din gammou-jhi. Translation: “When he joins the blood of the werewolf.” One of the prophecies. One of my prophecies. Written down in The Book of Remshi. The only prophecy that mattered to me anymore.
“Do you really believe it?” Justine asked. Her little face looked drained. “Just tell me, honestly, that you believe, I mean really believe, that a woman—a werewolf you were in love with thousands of years ago, who died, has come back as … I mean can you hear this? Can you hear what this sounds like?”
“Yes, angel, I can hear what it sounds like.”
“Do you believe it?”
I wanted, you’ve no idea how much, to give her a simple yes or no. But either would have been a lie. “It’s something I have to do,” I said. “It’s … I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Juss. One doesn’t like the word ‘destiny,’ but …”
There’s that phrase you have: Someone walked over my grave. For when the future’s cold ether reaches back into your warm present and touches your shrinking skin. Years ago, when I’d kept journals to pass the time I’d written: It’s either/or. Either the world contains magic—dreams, portents, visions, signs, clues, synchronicities, maddening oblique gestures to a hidden meaning—or it does not. There are no grey areas. It’s one or the other …
“Destiny,” Justine repeated, then laughed, sans amusement. “Fluff, it’s just the same face, that’s all. Everyone’s got a double walking around, even in their own lifetime. We’ve probably both got doubles right here in LA. In five hundred years the same face must turn up … I don’t know. In a thousand years? Ten thousand?”
“I know,” I said, with a gentleness I knew would only make her more desperate. “I’ve seen them.”
“So why this time? Why her?”
There was nothing to tell her except the feeble truth. My hands filled with weakness at the thought. “I felt it,” I said. “That night in Big Sur. I felt it. And I started having the dream.”
“What dream?”
Ah. Shouldn’t have said that. It wouldn’t help. Nothing by way of explanation would help. She didn’t want explanation. She wanted me to forget the whole thing.
“What dream?” More exhaustion. And a hint of derision. Dreams! she was thinking. Destiny, prophecies, dreams. Sure, why not?
“You don’t dream, you said.”
“Forget it. It’s not—”
“Tell me.”
It would be worse not to, now. Now that I’d opened my big mouth that’s learned nothing in twenty millennia.
“I’ve been having this dream,” I said. “When I woke up last night I thought it was the first time I’d had it, but now I know I’ve had it before. I’ve been having it since I saw Talulla. Before that I hadn’t dreamed since Vali died.”
I was ready for her to ask what the dream was, but she didn’t. The fact of a dream, the fact that a dream was involved, disgusted her. Dreams were in the same bag as Meaning and Things Happening For A Reason and God. And yet now that I had opened my big mouth, I felt relieved. “I know it’s something,” I said. “This beach I’ve been dreaming about. I know I have to find it. It’s a real place, though I haven’t the faintest idea where it is. I thought you might help me look for it. I thought we might travel together. It’ll be different for you, now we’re the same. There are so many places I want to show you.”
