Downside Rain: Downside book one (14 page)

I
shut the door gently, because I want to slam it and won’t give Clide the
satisfaction of knowing I’m peeved.

“You’re
angry with him.”

I
stalk past River. “Not Clide. Sauvageau. He sends for me as if I’m his servant.”

“So.”
He shrugs. “Don’t go.”

I
sigh and hurl myself into the yellow chair. “You don’t say no to Alain
Sauvageau.” The chair rotates so I lose sight of River for a moment. “Going is
easier in the long run, else he’ll have someone
escort
me.”

“What
does a vampire want from you?”

“Alain’s
not a vampire.” I slap one foot on the floor to anchor the chair. “He prefers
vampire henchmen.”

“Henchmen?”
He paces a circle around me. “He’s a hoodlum?”

Imagining
Alain’s expression if anyone called him that to his face, I guffaw. Urbane
Alain Sauvageau a
hoodlum?
Perish the thought! The word conjures images
of young thugs who mug people for their wallets, while Alain is in a different
league.

My
chortling miffs River. “You tell me the guy sends for you, you don’t say no or
he’ll have you taken to him - what am I supposed to think?”

“Sorry,
hoodlum doesn’t do him justice.” I sober. “Now, if you’d said crime baron,
you’d be nearer the truth. Alain should
always
be taken seriously.” Even
though I pretend not to. “I hear he’s ruthless in his business dealings and
rumor says those who cross him tend to disappear.”

My
thoughts turn inward. I can’t believe Alain is as black as he’s painted and am inexplicably
drawn to the man in ways which transcend purely physical attraction.

River’s
lips are tight and white. “I’m going with you.”

I
should keep my mouth shut, because every word from it makes River edgier. “I’m
in no danger from Alain!” I splutter, probably too vehemently. “I’m not that
important. And he’s always been fine with me.” If
fine
translates to suave,
seductive and oh-so tempting.

His
mouth is still grim, but after eyeing me for a moment he agrees. “If you say
so.”

If
there is a threat, it’s to my libido, not my life, but River doesn’t need to
know that.

He
moves to the window and kneels. Back muscles ripple as he rests his arms on the
windowsill and looks out. The neon colors flickering over his hair and skin like
a kaleidoscope fascinate me.

I
sit on the bed, open the envelopes and, stunned, let the notes fall on the
sheets. “Gods almighty!”

“What’s
wrong?”

“Absolutely
nothing,” I croon, fanning a wad of notes with my thumb. There are a lot of
them. “Alain paid
oodles
more than my standard fee and Verity has been
generous.”

I
count, and divide the money into two piles. “This is yours.”

River
looks over his shoulder at the notes I wave at him. “What’s it for?”

“You
helped bring Verity home. You earned it.”

He
shifts on his knees to eye the money. “What do I do with it?”

“Get
an apartment. This should take care of rent for a couple of months, plus enough
for necessities.” I slip off the bed. “But first things first. You need more
than the clothes on your back.” And I can restock my clothes cube.

We
spend a mere half-hour shopping for clothes. Shopping for a guy is much easier
than accompanying Angelina. River checks sizes, takes a few shirts off a rack, two
pairs of jeans, socks and underwear, and he’s done. As I wear boy sizes, I pick
up T-shirts and jeans in the same shops. I let River wait outside while I get
new underwear in Lavender and Lace. We stop off at Bouchiere where I find a
black shin-length leather coat with deep pockets and calf-high leather boots,
and River gets brown leather ankle boots with steel toes.

We
return to the apartment to the sound of the phone ringing.

The
man identifies himself as Franco Tipola who owns and manages an apartment complex
on the west side, across the river. He has a pixie hive in his attic and wants
me to get rid of the inhabitants. “I can make two apartments out of that space.”

“How
big is the hive?”

“Oh,
about four by three.”

I
agree to look at the hive tomorrow and note down his address. Although I’m
flush with cash, I daren’t turn down a job or word will get abroad and clients
will go to other agencies for solutions to their problems. But as I hang up, I’m
apprehensive. Is taking another job now prudent? The hellion, the shifter,
Castle’s death - is this another trap?

But
I can’t hide in the apartment for the rest of my life.

I
look at the dark-red sky. Night will soon fall on the city. I’d best get along
to Alain’s house.

“Will
you be all right while I see Sauvageau?”

River
looks up from his new clothes, which he folds on the bed. “I can still come
with you.”

I
make a wry face. “He knows you’re here. If he wanted both of us, he’d say.
Better I go alone.”

I
picture Alain’s face in my mind’s eye, his concern at The Station. Closing my
eyes, I try to conjure up the feel of his lips on mine. I remember the comfort
of his arms as he held me in Castle’s house. I called, and he came.

No,
I don’t want River along.

The
route we follow is all but deserted as Castle and I head to the Peralta
enclave. The sky, like a dark sponge, holds rain again and gloom covers
everything. The street lamps and shop signs look dimmer. I bunch my shoulders against
the damp air creeping under my collar.

I
stop before we reach the compound. “Castle, do me a favor, wait outside.”

“Why?”

“You’ll
distract me.”

“I’ll
stand in a corner like a good little ghost and keep my trap shut. You won’t
know I’m there.”

“Please.”

“Nah.
You need me to protect you from the big bad vampires.”

“And
how are you going to do that?”

Castle
scratches his head. “No idea.” His hand freezes on his scalp as he peers at me.
“You and the dude don’t have a thing, do you? That’s why you don’t want me with
you?”

My
eyebrows pop up. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then
why does he only ask for you, not both of us? Or did before I died.”

“Fine
time to ask, after how long? Couldn’t be because you insulted him?”

Nose
in the air, he joins his hands behind his back. “I don’t recall.”

“Your
snide little remarks?” I twitch with frustration. “Jeez, Castle.”

He
sniffs. “You can’t trust a vampire.”

“He’s
not a vampire.”

“Not
like his pals, no, but he’s a vampire.” He sounds serious. “Not all vampires
suck blood.”

The
vampire on duty is new to me. This one is polite, respectful even; he greets me
by name and doesn’t frisk me. I cross the courtyard quickly as the gargoyles
hiss from above.

Capucine
is back to her normal pleasant self and gives me a stony look. She wears a pink
leotard tonight, her ash-blond hair pulled up in a tail on top of her head and
flowing down her back. She reminds me of a high-stepping mare swishing her mane
as she struts through the house, especially with those high heels clipping over
the tiled floor. I doubt she’d appreciate the comparison.

She
takes me to Alain’s den. Alain, looking gorgeous in a mustard-colored silk suit
and open-necked beige shirt, waits in the middle of the room near a small table
laid for dinner and two chairs. He pulls out a chair. “Rain, will you share a
meal with me?”

Seriously?
“You demanded I come here to
eat?”

I
swing an arc and head for the door. “Call me when you have something on
Castle’s murder.”

His
hand on my arm stops me in my tracks. “I
asked
you here,” he amends, as though
he actually gave me a choice. “We should talk, and why not over a meal?”

I
stiffen at his touch. “Talk about what?”

“Please,
Rain, dine with me.”

I
humph
through my nose before looking at him. Eyes dark and solemn, hand
still trapping me, he sweeps the other hand at the chair.

What
the hell, why not? I don’t often indulge in really good food. I let him lead me
to the table, sit, and he takes the facing chair.

A
candle glows and flickers in a slender china centerpiece. Heavy silverware and crystal
stemware flank fine white porcelain dishes. A pretty white-haired vampire who
wears a long cream-colored tabard over powder-blue shirt and hose pushes a cart
which carries a large covered tureen on top and a tray with small glass bowls
on the lower shelf. I stare because I have never seen one of Alain’s vampires
in period clothing, and the lad has nice calves. He bows to Alain and reaches
for the tureen, but Alain tersely waves him off.

The
young vampire leaves without a word. Alain takes a bottle from an ice bucket
and presents it to me. “Wine?”

“Thank
you.”

He
pours for us and raises his glass. “To life.”

“To
life,” I echo, remembering how Castle died.

I
down a generous mouthful. He reaches over the table and tops up my glass.

I
stare into the pale liquid. “Thanks for coming to Castle’s when I called,” and
dry swallow. “I shouldn’t have involved you.”

“Nobody
apart from my people know I was at Castle’s house.” His nails
ping
the
glass, making me look up. “I will always come at your call, Rain.”

The
gentle, sincere tone and the look in his eyes shame me after I almost bit off
his head. Heat flushes through me and I drop my gaze to the table.

Alain
uncovers the tureen and ladles large portions of its contents on our dishes.
Steam wafts up to bathe my face as I inhale a savory aroma. Chicken thighs, the
meat falling off the bones, tiny cauliflower florets, minced onion and sliced
olives, cooked in a thin yellow sauce and served over white rice. I fork up a
mouthful. The chicken all but dissolves in my mouth, the combination of
vegetables, olives, rice, lemon sauce, cardamom and cumin conjure a blissful
smile as I swallow.

“This
is glorious, Alain.”

He
smiles. “I’ll tell my chef. He will be gratified it meets with your approval.”

Like
the chef cares one way or another if a wraith likes his food.

Alain
nibbles a floret, eating with deliberation, yet I get the feeling he’s not interested
in the food. With the meal half-eaten, he puts down his fork, supports his chin
on tented hands and eyes me thoughtfully.

My
fork hovers at my mouth. “What?”

“Finish
your meal. We’ll talk later.”

“I
didn’t come so you can watch me eat.” I rest the fork on the side of the plate.

His
left eyebrow arcs up, he picks up his fork and stabs a piece of chicken. I don’t
look at him again as I finish, but apprehension tightens my chest. Alain wants
more than to dine with me. He has something on his mind.

He
stacks our plates on the cart and brings the tray to the table. It carries two
bowls of plump, red, perfectly ripe strawberries and two bowls of cinnamon and
sugar. He moistens a strawberry by putting it in his mouth, dipping it in his
bowl of sugar mixture and eating the whole thing in one bite.

I
force down a strawberry to be polite but am too on edge to eat the rest. I wish
he’d get to the point.

Alain
clears the dishes, sits back in his chair, folds his hands over his waist and
considers me.

Here
it comes
.

“Thank
you for bringing Verity home.”

My
nose wrinkles. “It was an assignment. You paid me.”

“I
can still thank you, can I not?”

“And
I had help,” I add.

His
hands part, he places them palm down on the table and sits up straighter. “The
new wraith. He’s the reason I asked you to come.”

“River?”
What now?

His
lips compress. His gaze rests heavily on me for a long moment before he says, “Is
it not convenient he lingered near the Greché house when you arrived? And
Verity says his demeanor was inexplicably . . .  composed, accepting of all you
told him. You were terrified when Castle brought you Downside.”

I
skip over that he knows my state of mind when I first arrived. He must have
learned it from someone else, or naturally knows how difficult a wraith finds their
unexplainable waking Upside and introduction to Downside, because I didn’t meet
him till a week later and we said little at the time. “He was there a while before
I found. . . .” I pause. A peculiar, uneasy feeling settles in my stomach.

I
didn’t find River, he found me.

“Before
we met,” I continue. “Some of us get it together faster than others.”

“And
he didn’t hesitate to come Downside.”

I
lean back in the chair. “He positively did hesitate. I thought I’d have to use
force to get him here.” My mouth thins. “What do you mean, convenient?”

He
stares at me. “He could work for the Greché.”

My
fingers grip the wineglass’ stem. “A wraith, working for vampires?”

“You
work for me.”

“You’re
not a vampire.”

“But
my people are. Their interests are mine.” He looks down from beneath lowered
lids and smoothes the tablecloth with two fingers. “That a wraith would
gravitate to the solitary creatures who make him . . . full-bodied . . . after
waking Upside is not a stretch of the imagination.”

It
clicks. “He’s a plant?” I place the glass on the table, hold on to the chair-arms
and lean in. “No, it doesn’t make sense. The Greché didn’t know I was coming
for Verity, so how could they put him in place?”

“Perhaps
he acted on impulse, saw an opportunity and took it.”

“An
opportunity for what? Get Downside? If he knew about Downside he didn’t have to
wait for me to bring him, the Station Master would have let in a wraith. Hell,
if I want - which I don’t - I can go between Upside and Downside without the
Station Master knowing. River could do the same.”

Alain’s
hands flip apart. “Yet now he’s on friendly terms with the Peralta family.”

“So
when he saw me and Verity lighting out of there, he jumped at the chance to
come Downside and try to discover what the Peralta plan to do next? But you’re
not thinking it through.” Which is unusual for Alain. “He’d fight
us
,
not them, if he worked for them. He
helped
us escape.”

“A
charade.”

“You
weren’t there, you didn’t see him rip into them. Ask Verity,” I say with
finality. I have had enough of this conversation.

Alain
isn’t finished. “There is an alternative. He’s not new. He’s a Downsider. Elder
vampires are far-thinking and cunning, their lifespan allows them to initiate
plans which won’t come to fruition for decades. When the Greché went Upside,
Gervaise knew the day would come when his family needed new blood. He probably
set this in motion
before
he took his family away.” He spreads his
hands. “The former Station Master is a Greché agent - how many more are here?”

His
reasoning is flawed. “River would already be registered, the City - ”

Alain
cuts in. “He’s a wraith. As you said, you can come and go Upside unseen.”

Against
my will, I run the possibility through my mind. Though I blurted it at Alain to
make a point, remaining fleshless all the way into and through The Station and continuing
in the right direction to get through the doors would be an incredible feat. If
River did manage it, what next? Cohorts waiting Upside with clothing? River
lingering outside the Greché mansion?

Clammy
fingers walk up my spine. Improbable, but as anyone who lives Downside will
attest, nothing is impossible. Is River’s ignorance of all things Downside and
inability to control his physicality an act?

The
evening, along with my mood, has soured.

Disturbed
and a little angry, I start up from the chair, and sink back down. Alain’s
ideas about River are far-fetched, but concern for what happened to Verity
makes him suspect anything out of the ordinary and River falls in that
category. I can’t blame him for wanting to protect the Peralta.

“The
Greché believe the Peralta will retaliate. Advance warning of what form it will
take would be invaluable,” Alain adds.

“What
will
happen with the Greché?” I watch my fingers make invisible shapes
on the tablecloth.

“Nothing.
The Peralta won’t start a war to avenge one woman, the effects of which could
devastate both families, not when she’s safe.”

“Intent
wasn’t enough? They meant to kill her.”

“They
have forfeited the opportunity to replenish their bloodline. They are barred
from Downside. It’s enough.” Alain toothes his lower lip as he rubs his chin.
“You should think about that young man and be cautious around him.”

He
stands, comes around the table, bends to take my hand and press the back to his
mouth. He murmurs, “You could stay, where I can protect you.”

I
rise to my feet, hand tingling from the touch of his lips. He straightens his
spine and looks down into my eyes. For a moment I settle into his gaze. Giving
in will be so easy.

“I
need you safe, Rain,” he says. “I need you.”

“Keep
it in your pants, Sauvageau.”

A
glimmer of a smile. “You really
don’t
know, do you?”

My
brow creases. “Know what?”

“How
my heart pounds when you are near.”

I
give him an acid look. “Sure I do.”

He
works a muscle in his jaw. To my surprise, anger sparks in his eyes.

I
free my hand but the feel of his lips lingers on my skin. Now his eyes hold
nothing but yearning.

“Rain,
I know what you believe of me, but there is a difference between lust and
desire. I desire you more than any woman I have known.”

I
forget to breathe. And when he cups his palms to my cheeks, dips his head and
kisses me, I do something utterly foolish. I kiss him back.