Blood Bonds (20 page)

“Tell him to carry more meat.” He picked up the bowl and slurped the colored milk. “Sausage, bacon ... you’d think he’d at least carry cheese.” He belched loud enough to rattle the walls.

Show off.

Haley spooned in another mouthful of peanut butter. He was right. She really needed to go to a real grocery store and stock up. Any more incidents like last night and they’d be in some serious trouble.

It was not going to happen again, she decided. Only thing was, she didn’t believe it. Medan had asked her to be her Enforcer. What had she called it in Olde Tongue?
Ar-a-ma? Er-a-tah? No, Er-a-ma-tah
.
That was it. No matter how the word translated it would only lead to one thing--an early grave.

But if Medan was telling the truth about the other Queens wanting Haley dead?

Yeah, right. How probable was that scenario? If the Council of Queens wanted her dead, she’d be dead. Wouldn’t she?

Unless Niles really had been...

When she looked up, Farley was staring at her. His eyes were dark, his face grim.

“Please tell me you didn’t just hear all that?”

“I didn’t.” He put the bowl down, pulled his feet up onto the stool and leaned over the wet bar in her direction. “This far away, you fade in and out like a bad signal. But it was enough to know I need to hear the rest.”

She shoved her spoon into her peanut butter and glared at him. “If the
mark
opened some sort of telepathic connection, why in the hell can’t I hear your thoughts?”

“Medan can’t even force her way into my head to hear what I’m thinking.” He reached over and pulled her spoon out of the jar and made a show of removing the wad of peanut butter clinging to it. “You can feel my emotions though,” he said, around a mouthful of Jif. “She can’t even do that.”

“When I’m touching you, sure.” Haley got another spoon out of the strainer and joined him in cleaning out the jar. “I don’t think I like the idea of you hearing what I think. I mean, how is that going to work at Christmas?” She was trying to be funny, but his expression was dark.

“If I can’t hear you, I can’t know your
needs
. Now what was that about Niles?”

Haley frowned, shoved too much in her mouth, and fought to get it down. “Medan claims he’s been watching me, and keeping the other Queens from arranging any unfortunate accidents.” She took another bite, this one smaller. Man, they just didn’t make peanut butter in big enough jars any more. Better than nothing. At least it’s the real thing. No half-the-fat-and-thirty-percent-less-sugar crap in her house.

Farley waved his spoon around, animating his thoughts. “And you believe her?”

“Of course not!” Haley stood up and went to the fridge--there was a little more than half a gallon of milk left. She got two glasses from the cabinet, filled them and handed one to Farley as she sat back down.

Cows. Who could have known their hundred-and-one uses?

“But she didn’t lie?” He made it a question.

“No. Have you ever met a Queen who did?” Haley had a lot of experience trying to talk to them on the phone through their Links and Marks. She was the only one in the Bureau who would even try. It was a tiring game of word chess every time.

“Thankfully, the only Queen I’ve ever had the pleasure to run into is Medan.” He took another long swig and erased the milkstache with the back of his hand. “She can lie though.”

Haley wagged a finger at him. “No, she doesn’t lie. She just tells you what she wants you to know. All Queens are like that.” She took another sip. “You ask them something like ... oh ... I don’t know ... are you involved in any illegal flesh trading, and they will laugh a little and tell you they have never taken any bit of flesh that was not given to them freely. What they don’t tell you is that her Marks held down the poor SOB and flayed him for her.” When Haley looked at him she put a hand to her mouth. “God of Man, Farley. I’m sorry ... I didn’t think...”

He tilted his head and smiled. “Z’all’s good.”

“No, no, that was completely ... stupid.”

“Haley...” Farley planted one hand on the counter and tipped her chin up with the other. “It happened. I can’t change it and neither can you. It’s no different than surviving a hatching. We still have to live in spite of it.” He licked her chin and lips, then rubbed his cheek against hers. His breath smelled like peanut butter, milk, and under that, the scent she’d burned into his marrow.

“Now finish what you were saying about Medan not lying.” With his eyes so close, the brown depths looked like chocolate pools.

“She didn’t lie.”

“She just told you what she wanted you to know?”

Haley nodded, “Yeah.”

“And that’s not lying?”

“Apparently not in her mind, or any Queen, for that matter.” She pushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “They don’t smell like a lie.”

Farley sat back on the counter, picked up the jar, and scraped out the last bite. “So?”

“That’s it. She gave me the bits and pieces of the story that were true.”

“So that means Niles has been following you?”

“Probably. Most likely, yes.”

“And keeping any would-be accidents from happening?”

She nodded and finished her glass of milk. Farley tipped his glass toward the wall behind her. “Are those Hostess Twinkies I hear calling to me?”

Twinkies? She hadn’t bought Twinkies since...

Haley searched the shelf near the fridge and found them behind a loaf of green, fuzzy bread, two bags of stale cookies, and something that might have been potatoes.

“They’re old,” she said, looking at the date. “Like three, no, make that four years past their expiration.” She peeked in the box; the damn thing was almost full too. What a shame.

“Give em’ here.” Farley waved for the box.

“They’ll make you sick.” Even the cellophane had yellowed. Come to think of it, the box didn’t look all that great either. She shook it and a dead moth fell out the end. Haley stomped it. The little petrified body turned to dust. Another Human imprint she’d picked up--her adopted mother’s fear of bugs. Pretty humiliating, really.

“Twinkies will outlive us all. Give em’ here.” Farley grabbed at the air.

“Good grief, you eat these and you’ll have to have your stomach pumped. Probably even have bugs in them.”

“Makes for more protein. Give-give-give!” She handed him the box just to shut him up. Farley growled as he used his sharp fangs to decimate the wrappers. When he took a bite, he swayed groaning. “God of Man, I love these things. They’re like sex, only edible.”

“I thought that was my brownies?” Haley sat back on her stool and watched him pour the box into his lap and proceed to open the little yellow cakes one by one and cram them whole into his mouth. “You really need to work on your eating skills. You’d get invited to more dinner parties with Deshi and me.”

Farley crammed another one in his already packed cheeks. Little bits of cream clung to his lips. He picked it off and held it on the tips of his fingers until he made room. Little kissing noises filled the air as he sucked them clean.

“Ouf apies e oring...”

“What the hell did you just say?” She eyed one of the last Twinkies, and seriously considered snagging it, but there was another dead moth and it was inside the wrapper.

Farley washed away his chipmunk cheeks with a few swigs of milk. “I said...” He took another drink. “I said that those parties are boring.” He opened the last one, picked the moth off, ate it, then chased it with the Twinkie. Haley made a face and Farley grinned, flashing yellow cake and white filling, stuck between lots of sharp and pointies.

Haley glanced at the clock. It was getting close to eight and she still had to do her hair, put on her shoes, and try to shoo Farley out of her kitchen.

“So why do you think he did it?” Farley asked.

“Who?” She was thinking about how she needed to clean out her pantry and restock it with things that were actually edible, in date and bug free.

“Niles Fury. Why do you think he even cared what happened to you? I mean, look at the guy. He’s got a reputation for Nasty even among his own people.” He gave nasty a capital N.

“No clue.” She picked up the glasses, put them in the sink and tossed in the spoons. “He’s not all that bad though. Not really.” Farley stared at her. “Well, he’s not ... not really. He’s just ... feral.” She tossed the empty peanut butter jar into the garbage and started gathering all of Farley’s empty wrappers. This was why she wouldn’t leave him alone in her house. He’d have it looking like the city dump in a matter of hours.

“I think we need to find out why.”

Haley laughed. “Sure, I’ll just run on down to the prison again, since that went so amazingly well last time.”

“Naw? You think?” He hopped down off the counter as Haley went headed to her bathroom. Farley followed. “He lived over in the Dens, southwest end.”

“Yeah, right.” She saw the look in his face. “Seriously?”

Farley nodded. He picked up her brush and made her sit on the toilet lid while he worked it through her still damp curls. “It was in that old fort construct that the MARTA Station backs up to. Safest place you could hop a ride. He kept most of the riff-raff cleaned out.”

It didn’t take a metaphysical scientist to figure out what he was doing with them either.

Farley sat on the counter while she bent over and turned the dryer on her hair so it would fluff. He said, “I’m thinking I might check out his old apartment. He’s only been in prison for few months. I doubt anyone would be brave enough to actually go in there just in case he got out.” Farley held her brush up to his nose and sniffed it. Every once in a while he’d stick out his tongue and lick the hairs sticking out. Haley watched him for a moment, amused.

When she stood up, he handed her back the brush.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” What she meant was, would he go and eat any pedestrians while he was out on his own?

“I’m okay, I think. If I start getting the DTs when I pass any old people meandering in the hall, I’ll turn around and come back.” He grinned at his own joke. Haley didn’t. This was a serious matter. Flesh addiction was a real problem.

Human blood and flesh was a profitable legal business, if it employed the willing. Only problem was, while there were plenty of those who would do it for money, or even for free, if they died, their family had the right to sue. Hell, if they survived and didn’t like the re-arrangement of their limbs, they could sue. Queens were fiscally responsible for the damages done by any Kin in her city.

Being held responsible for some Humans’ stupidity was an expensive undertaking. After all, what Human in their right mind
likes
having bits of their body eaten, especially when they know it won’t grow back? Eventually the damage is just too great and someone dies.

The litigious nature of Human society fueled the illegal trade. It was just easier to take someone and make them disappear. Hard to prove a murder if you don’t have a body. Better yet, bring in people from foreign countries. Sometimes the export of flesh was done with the consent of a country looking to reduce its numbers. Sometimes, it was done without it. The flesh trade also helped competing crime families to get rid of their problems.

In the end, it all boiled down to the fact that Human blood and flesh was as addictive to some Kin as cold beer and scotch could be to some Humans. Unfortunately, they didn’t have a Flesh-Eaters-Anonymous. Nope, it was just off with your head.

“I won’t lose control,” Farley said, his voice all serious.

“You weren’t so sure about that last night.”

“That was before.”

She rolled her eyes, checked her hair in the mirror, and looked at him. He was staring at her like she was something yummy to eat.

“I’ll be late.” She turned away, but he grabbed her hand and yanked her off her feet. His kiss hit her lips hard enough for their teeth to rake against each other. His tongue reached deep, prodding, probing, tasting, suggesting nefarious possibilities. They were both breathless when he let her go. Haley stumbled back and seriously considered calling in.

So he won’t have to go alone, she told herself.

Yeah ... riiight...

“I’ll be fine. Go to work. I’ll be in later. Tell Garrett I’m following up on those shipping manifests or something.” He waved a hand at her.

She didn’t want him to go back there. Terrible things happened in that place.

Farley touched the scar on his shoulder. “I’m yours. She knows the rules.”

Yeah, but it didn’t mean Medan wouldn’t just break them.

Dobson wasn’t asleep when the phone beside his bed rang. It was the same phone that he’d had when the Whore was alive. Same bed, too. Seemed a waste to ruin a perfectly good bed on her account. The ring was loud because the phone was old. One of those fifteen pound corded monstrosities that was colored like Human skin. Only God knew why.

He kept it because he liked the way it rang. No electronic beeping noises when a call came over his line. His phone sounded like it was ready to take names and kick ass.

Dobson reached over and picked up the receiver.

“This better be good. It’s--” He looked at the clock. “Four-thirty in the morning.”

“It’s Reynolds, sir.” Ah, Reynolds, a real soldier, that one. Someone he could rely on. A real asset to his random tissue sampling in the Gray Zone. Not like it was that hard to do. Give out free drugs, or just plain cheap ones, and Kin would come flocking to your door like flies on shit.

Although Dobson had to admit, he liked the man better before he’d done the whole Alchemist crossover thing. Now meeting his gaze was like staring a dead fish in the eyes.

“Talk to me, soldier.” He called all his street men “soldier.” Whether or not they’d actually served with him was a moot point. After all, they were serving with him now. In this war.

“We have a situation.”

Those were four little words that Dobson did not want to hear. Not now, not later, and sure as fuck not coming out of the mouths of anyone working the Zone.

Dobson sat up and swung his feet over the side of his bed. “Tell me you did not get busted by the local pussy PD.” He scratched himself, picked up the phone and carried it as far as the cord would reach, which got him right in firing distance of the toilet.