BTB Excerpt, Chapter Four: "Answer the Question"
Chapter Four: Answer the Question
Jhez nicknamed him aptly: Le Gross Shite, a derogatory title and a notorious amalgamation of languages the street dealers and Nightwalkers developed over the years. It hurts my ears to listen to it, sometimes. I know how it should sound, though I’ve numbed to it thanks to constant exposure.
Garthelle knows precisely what my decision will be before he asks. He knows because the residue of my thoughts and emotions still color the energy he took from me.
He stares down at me, and I meet his yellow gaze. The harsh quality of his words doesn’t reflect in those eyes. What I see there, in fact, is at direct odds with his tone.
That expression of curiosity, interest, is not how one regards a piece of outdated meat one intends to discard. My throat convulses as I try to force moisture back into my mouth. If I don’t handle this situation correctly, I’m as good as dead. If I don’t offer him what he wants, what he’s looking for, something he would value sufficiently, will he retract the offer of restraint without haggling?
What did I take from him?
I try to reach inside myself and feel it. Seek it out, still throbbing through my bloodstream with the lacing of vampire-influenced emotions and sensations. I am, to put it bluntly, a complete wreck right now.
I can’t think straight, and I can’t find anything of substance. It’s a melee. I have no idea what he meant about making use of the link I forged. It takes a moment, but I manage to clear my throat, collect my nerve, and maintain at least an outward appearance of calm. “What would you have me offer you, Monsieur Garthelle?”
No response of any sort for a few tense seconds. Then his lips curl into something between a smile and leer. Why does he always leer at me?
The vampire turns and strides slowly across the room, back into the embrace of the shadows. Taking advantage, I scramble to my feet. My attention drifts to the couch, its matte black softness inviting.
“How long have you and your sister been employed on Nightwalker Boulevard?”
The question startles me, and I blink a few times. Trying to follow his logic from my offer to this query leads down a path too deep and murky for me.
“Almost a decade, Monsieur.” It’s been a good bit longer than that, but few would believe it. A decade, on the other hand, isn’t such a terribly unrealistic timeframe for a Nightwalker who’s sufficiently cautious. My sister and I aren’t considered cautious by any stretch, but that’s a different story. Takes a special kind of Nightwalker to execute a . . . what did he call it? Ah, yes. A chi-theft.
Silence again. I edge toward the couch, not caring that it’s rather presumptuous of me. This night just keeps dragging out, and I’m exhausted. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping me on my feet.
“The two of you have developed quite a reputation, from what I’ve heard.”
When did there get to be two of me? Wait a moment . . . heard? “My ego’s not so large that I inquire after the opinions of others.” I sink into the couch. Anything to distract me from the fact that every hair on my body is currently trying to stand up and scuttle off to a safe corner.
A soft chuckle floats from the shadows. I see him, once he’s standing in front of me. Resting my head on the back of the couch, I quirk an eyebrow and gaze up at him, continuing on with my little front of “calm, unfazed Nightwalker.” Doing my damnedest to convince myself of it, every bit as much as the vamp.
“You would work for me. Both of you. That is my price.”
What the hell does Jhez have to do with this? I got myself into this mess all by myself. Um. One thing at a time. “Work for you?”
“Yes, work for me. You’re . . . unique, in some way. A delicacy. And I, it just so happens, will be entertaining distinguished guests in the near future.”
My throat hurts, I swallow so hard. “Pardon, but what does my sister have to do with this? She’s not involved, in any fashion.”
His hand floats through the air in a dismissive gesture. “She’ll be rewarded handsomely by the offer of employment. And it would get her off the streets as well; do you consider that prospect so objectionable?”
Not at all. But I doubt she’d embrace the opportunity. “I’m not able to speak for my sister. It’s her decision to make.”
“You are able to speak for yourself, I take it?”
I lift my head off the couch and scowl at him, then stare off into the shadows where the thickly veiled windows stretch from floor to ceiling.
“I accept your price for restraint.” As if there was any chance of me doing otherwise.
“Very good, then. You’ve provided half the price.”
Infuriating vampire. “There’s a possibility I won’t be able to provide the other half.”
The need to look at his face grips me in a vice. When I do, Garthelle leans down and braces his hands on the back of the couch to hover mere inches away. His breath on my cheek makes me shudder. I squelch the urge to cringe into the velvet.
His eyes roam my face in a frantic, devouring fashion. “Then it would behoove you to do your best to convince her, wouldn’t it.” Tension strains his voice, each word enunciated carefully.
“She will demand details you’ve not divulged.” My shoulder itches, but I don’t think moving is a good idea. To distract myself, I follow the line of his neck down to the hard contour of his collarbone, the glimpse of bulging shoulder muscle visible beneath the loose material of his shirt. The edge of danger, of hostility, outweighs the hint of eroticism, but it’s still there. I’m definitely feeling it. Scared shitless, because this could go to hell in heartbeat, yet definitely aroused. His lips part slightly, nostrils flared, pupils dilating.
Um.
“Garthelle?” I keep my voice soft, staring into his eyes. He seems to be looking through me, or at the very least into the back of my head. Inhaling deeply to keep myself calm only gets me a nose full of the vamp’s scent. Faint musk, sandalwood mixed with dragon’s blood. I doubt he’ll kill me for breathing, so I take another whiff.
“Shhh . . .”
The back of the couch makes a strange creak. I blink, confused and startled by the noise. Surely he can’t exert the force necessary to make a piece of furniture do that?
The vampire is no longer hovering in front of my face. I can hear the rustle of his presence over in the shadows again. He clears his throat, and speaks with measured words. “Inform your sister that I will meet you both tonight, at this location.”
An image slams into my head with finesse reminiscent of Garthelle’s earlier manipulations. I immediately recognize the small java house. It’s on our side of the metro, in the Blue District. Jhez and I are regulars there; he must’ve pulled the place from my thoughts. I have no idea if a vampire is even capable of that. Then again, I’ve discovered there’s a great deal I don’t know this evening.
“I will answer any questions she may have at that time. There’s an escort waiting outside to take you home.”
A clear dismissal, if ever I’ve heard one.
[Go to Chapter Five.]
Jhez nicknamed him aptly: Le Gross Shite, a derogatory title and a notorious amalgamation of languages the street dealers and Nightwalkers developed over the years. It hurts my ears to listen to it, sometimes. I know how it should sound, though I’ve numbed to it thanks to constant exposure.
Garthelle knows precisely what my decision will be before he asks. He knows because the residue of my thoughts and emotions still color the energy he took from me.
He stares down at me, and I meet his yellow gaze. The harsh quality of his words doesn’t reflect in those eyes. What I see there, in fact, is at direct odds with his tone.
That expression of curiosity, interest, is not how one regards a piece of outdated meat one intends to discard. My throat convulses as I try to force moisture back into my mouth. If I don’t handle this situation correctly, I’m as good as dead. If I don’t offer him what he wants, what he’s looking for, something he would value sufficiently, will he retract the offer of restraint without haggling?
What did I take from him?
I try to reach inside myself and feel it. Seek it out, still throbbing through my bloodstream with the lacing of vampire-influenced emotions and sensations. I am, to put it bluntly, a complete wreck right now.
I can’t think straight, and I can’t find anything of substance. It’s a melee. I have no idea what he meant about making use of the link I forged. It takes a moment, but I manage to clear my throat, collect my nerve, and maintain at least an outward appearance of calm. “What would you have me offer you, Monsieur Garthelle?”
No response of any sort for a few tense seconds. Then his lips curl into something between a smile and leer. Why does he always leer at me?
The vampire turns and strides slowly across the room, back into the embrace of the shadows. Taking advantage, I scramble to my feet. My attention drifts to the couch, its matte black softness inviting.
“How long have you and your sister been employed on Nightwalker Boulevard?”
The question startles me, and I blink a few times. Trying to follow his logic from my offer to this query leads down a path too deep and murky for me.
“Almost a decade, Monsieur.” It’s been a good bit longer than that, but few would believe it. A decade, on the other hand, isn’t such a terribly unrealistic timeframe for a Nightwalker who’s sufficiently cautious. My sister and I aren’t considered cautious by any stretch, but that’s a different story. Takes a special kind of Nightwalker to execute a . . . what did he call it? Ah, yes. A chi-theft.
Silence again. I edge toward the couch, not caring that it’s rather presumptuous of me. This night just keeps dragging out, and I’m exhausted. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping me on my feet.
“The two of you have developed quite a reputation, from what I’ve heard.”
When did there get to be two of me? Wait a moment . . . heard? “My ego’s not so large that I inquire after the opinions of others.” I sink into the couch. Anything to distract me from the fact that every hair on my body is currently trying to stand up and scuttle off to a safe corner.
A soft chuckle floats from the shadows. I see him, once he’s standing in front of me. Resting my head on the back of the couch, I quirk an eyebrow and gaze up at him, continuing on with my little front of “calm, unfazed Nightwalker.” Doing my damnedest to convince myself of it, every bit as much as the vamp.
“You would work for me. Both of you. That is my price.”
What the hell does Jhez have to do with this? I got myself into this mess all by myself. Um. One thing at a time. “Work for you?”
“Yes, work for me. You’re . . . unique, in some way. A delicacy. And I, it just so happens, will be entertaining distinguished guests in the near future.”
My throat hurts, I swallow so hard. “Pardon, but what does my sister have to do with this? She’s not involved, in any fashion.”
His hand floats through the air in a dismissive gesture. “She’ll be rewarded handsomely by the offer of employment. And it would get her off the streets as well; do you consider that prospect so objectionable?”
Not at all. But I doubt she’d embrace the opportunity. “I’m not able to speak for my sister. It’s her decision to make.”
“You are able to speak for yourself, I take it?”
I lift my head off the couch and scowl at him, then stare off into the shadows where the thickly veiled windows stretch from floor to ceiling.
“I accept your price for restraint.” As if there was any chance of me doing otherwise.
“Very good, then. You’ve provided half the price.”
Infuriating vampire. “There’s a possibility I won’t be able to provide the other half.”
The need to look at his face grips me in a vice. When I do, Garthelle leans down and braces his hands on the back of the couch to hover mere inches away. His breath on my cheek makes me shudder. I squelch the urge to cringe into the velvet.
His eyes roam my face in a frantic, devouring fashion. “Then it would behoove you to do your best to convince her, wouldn’t it.” Tension strains his voice, each word enunciated carefully.
“She will demand details you’ve not divulged.” My shoulder itches, but I don’t think moving is a good idea. To distract myself, I follow the line of his neck down to the hard contour of his collarbone, the glimpse of bulging shoulder muscle visible beneath the loose material of his shirt. The edge of danger, of hostility, outweighs the hint of eroticism, but it’s still there. I’m definitely feeling it. Scared shitless, because this could go to hell in heartbeat, yet definitely aroused. His lips part slightly, nostrils flared, pupils dilating.
Um.
“Garthelle?” I keep my voice soft, staring into his eyes. He seems to be looking through me, or at the very least into the back of my head. Inhaling deeply to keep myself calm only gets me a nose full of the vamp’s scent. Faint musk, sandalwood mixed with dragon’s blood. I doubt he’ll kill me for breathing, so I take another whiff.
“Shhh . . .”
The back of the couch makes a strange creak. I blink, confused and startled by the noise. Surely he can’t exert the force necessary to make a piece of furniture do that?
The vampire is no longer hovering in front of my face. I can hear the rustle of his presence over in the shadows again. He clears his throat, and speaks with measured words. “Inform your sister that I will meet you both tonight, at this location.”
An image slams into my head with finesse reminiscent of Garthelle’s earlier manipulations. I immediately recognize the small java house. It’s on our side of the metro, in the Blue District. Jhez and I are regulars there; he must’ve pulled the place from my thoughts. I have no idea if a vampire is even capable of that. Then again, I’ve discovered there’s a great deal I don’t know this evening.
“I will answer any questions she may have at that time. There’s an escort waiting outside to take you home.”
A clear dismissal, if ever I’ve heard one.
[Go to Chapter Five.]
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