The Key to Starveldt (18 page)

Jess opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the sight of Evan peering blearily out of the middlemost door, his hair a tousle of black knots. He raised a shaky finger to his lips.

‘
Shhhhh
,’ he murmured, shuddering with the effort. ‘You loud people! My ears hurt.’

‘Out of curiosity, brother dearest,’ said Jess, glancing at Manx, ‘exactly how much did you drink last night?’

Evan’s eyes glazed. ‘Of the
jin’sa
? Lots. Because, I mean, we’re talking Zeus-on-a-bicycle
wow
. Corkscrew knockout.’

He sounded flippant, but Solace felt a tug in her stomach that said otherwise.
He’s playing it up
, she realised, but if someone had asked her where her certainty came from, she couldn’t rightly have said. Somehow, she just knew.

‘How much, Ev?’

The empath shuddered raggedly. ‘About a litre. I think I threw up in the bath.’ He coughed. ‘Among other places.’

‘Charming,’ said Jess, but if her green pallor was anything to go by, she was in no position to criticise.

One of the other bedroom doors opened, revealing a bed-headed, red-eyed Paige. Solace felt her heart sink. Even before the other girl spoke, she knew the cause of her distress. Harper was missing.

‘We got separated,’ Paige gulped, when the others looked at her. ‘I thought he’d just come back here.’

‘He could just be asleep,’ said Manx, gesturing at the unopened doors. ‘Why not check?’

Paige did as he suggested, but only succeeded in waking Laine and Electra.

‘We shouldn’t leave him out there alone,’ said Jess. ‘Did anyone see him?’

‘I did. Or at least, I think it was him.’ Evan blinked, his eyes unfocused. The lie slipped from him with ease. Solace found she was holding her breath. ‘Near a bar.’

Jess frowned. ‘And you think he’ll still be there?’

‘Maybe. Maybe not.’ Evan shrugged. ‘Either way, it’s as good a place as any to start looking.’

Although still half-asleep, Laine jerked her head up, turning towards Evan. Solace felt a tingling at the nape of her neck. The look on Laine’s face had nothing to do with what had passed between her, Paige and Harper the night before, and everything to do with the idea that Evan might know something about it. When her gaze progressed to Solace, neither of them could keep from frowning. Their eyes didn’t meet for more than a moment, but even so, it gave Solace pause for thought. That wasn’t her first strange look from Laine recently, and despite what the vision had shown her, she still didn’t know the reason for it.

‘Well,’ said Electra, breaking the silence. ‘Let’s get tidied up and go, then, shall we?’

Everyone groggily agreed. Paige was first to dart back inside her room, followed quickly by Evan and Laine. Even Manx dragged himself off the lounge without a word of complaint. Though barely able to keep upright he made it back to his room without actually falling over.

A minor miracle
, the Vampire Cynic thought bitterly.
But then, we were due for at least one.

Evan barely made it to his room in time. No sooner had he shut the door than he felt the fiery, unpleasant lurch of bile in his throat. He stumbled onto the bathroom tiles, fell to his knees in front of the toilet and choked. Stomach acid, nostril-stinging and foul, was the only thing left in him, but it still came up in a series of rib-jerking spasms. He flushed the mess away, hung onto the cistern for what felt like an hour, then fumbled his boxers off and pushed himself into the shower.

He turned on the cold tap, letting the sharp needles of water scrub him clean of night-sweat, drunk-stink, gut-mess. Wretched, that’s what he was, and all to no end. It hadn’t worked. His empathy still burned in him, tainting the back of his throat with the flavour of his friends’ worries, elations, hopes. He’d always been able to block out the effects of his Trick with alcohol, but his usual outlet had failed: the magic burned him with unprecedented strength. Worse still, thanks to whatever had happened with Solace, he knew things about three of his friends that he powerfully wanted not to.

He rinsed his mouth over and over, shivering under the icy stream. Laine had always been complicated – he just hadn’t realised
how
complicated. Their sleeping together had been a mistake. Part of him winced to phrase it so bluntly, but that didn’t make it any less true. Even before she’d climbed into bed with him, their respective Tricks had started bleeding together, and now he could sense her feelings from three rooms away. It took conscious effort on his part just to keep from eavesdropping – so how was he supposed to hide what he’d learned, when every time he brushed too close he could feel her mind responding?

Evan had slept with women before, but never with someone Rare, let alone a psychic. The sex had been … physically satisfying, at the very least, even though they’d both wound up in tears. Maybe if he’d ever really considered being with Laine, at a time when he was feeling neither lonely nor emotionally exhausted, things might be different. She was, after all, intelligent and attractive – and more, she was interested in him. But as things stood, he knew he didn’t want her that way. Guilt pricked at him like cat-claws. He’d actively pursued Phoebe, but only for sex. Now she was dead, and despite what Solace had said to him on the Opera House roof, he still felt guilty about it. Sleeping with Laine was even worse. He should have realised she wanted more, and resisted the temptation to take advantage of it. But he hadn’t. He’d been selfish and stupid, and now that bloody vision had gone and made things even worse.

The shower became too much to bear. Evan turned off the water, towelled himself down and began disentangling his clothes from the bedsheets. Every so often, his pulse would leap in the aftershock of his drunkenness. When this happened, he stood still, closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

‘I’m on another world,’ he said out loud. ‘That’s got to count for something.’

As he dressed, he tried very, very hard to keep his mind on simple things, like putting his shirt on the right way round and zipping up his jeans. He couldn’t think about the vision. Even remembering it caused his chest to constrict, as though some giant snake were swallowing him whole. And how must Solace feel? He laughed a little: of anyone, he should know. And that was another thing to worry about – why had the vision taken him, too? What did it mean, that their Tricks had been wrapped together like that? Gently, as though lifting the edge of a recent scab, he tried to sense her feelings.

She was tired. More than just tired – heartsick, and doing her utmost not to show it. Every now and then her muscles shook, though from drinking too much
jin’sa
or as an ongoing consequence of the Castalian magic, she couldn’t tell. She hated not being in control of her own body, as if some new talent might manifest at any moment and further erode her sense of being human, of being something more than just a vessel for the prophecy in her mother’s book. She felt –

Evan pulled back and caught himself on the edge of the bed.

‘What the
hell
?’ he whispered.

Unable to help himself, he looked again, more gingerly than before. This time, his awareness fell short of the full immersion that had so startled him, instead registering the vampire’s emotions as blue-green and salty, like kelp. Almost, the aberration might not have happened.

But it had.

He shut his eyes, trying to work out his own feelings on the matter. It should have been easy math: complications plus complications equalled trouble, and he was already in enough of that as it was. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry or resentful, or even unduly worried.

Perhaps
, he thought,
the weirdness has reached critical mass. After a certain point, the crazy has to start cancelling itself out, or at least stop counting. Which is why I’m not worried
.

Right
?

After finally convincing Manx to leave his new hat behind, Solace and her friends vacated the suite and blinked at the Rookery morning – which, owing to the constancy of its celestial array, proved identical to the Rookery midnight. Crowds bustled, eccentrically-attired strangers roamed the halls, vendors hawked their wares, entertainers and merchants proffered marvels: nothing had changed, and yet everything was ever-changing.
There’s probably a poem in that
, the Vampire Cynic noted, somewhat sourly. Solace almost snorted out loud.
Laughing at your inner monologue probably isn’t a good thing
, she chided herself.

‘Breakfast,’ she said out loud. With impeccable gastric timing, her stomach rumbled. ‘No reason we can’t eat and look at the same time.’

Electra let out a sigh of relief. ‘Solace, I could kiss you. Croissant, anyone?’

‘We should hurry,’ Paige said, eyes darting into the crowd; but not even concern for Harper’s wellbeing could cancel out her hunger.

Spying a bakery stall, Jess hurried off, the others hard on her heels. Solace experienced a momentary panic about money before remembering Liluye’s declaration that they pay for nothing, which led her to wonder if every stallholder had been given their descriptions, or if some other, more subtle message had gone out. Either way, the old man behind the counter served them without a murmur of complaint, his single blue eye twinkling cheerfully in his round face. Feeling a little greedy, Solace ordered three piping-hot savoury rolls and something that resembled a very large chocolate éclair. They ate where they stood until only crumbs remained. A contented sigh went up.

‘Harper,’ Paige reminded them, licking honey from her fingers. She fixed her gaze on Evan. ‘Which way?’

For one horrible moment, the empath appeared to be stumped. Solace remembered well enough where they were headed, but as they were pretending that only Evan knew the way, she couldn’t very well prompt him. He didn’t answer. Without thinking, Solace nudged his hand with hers. She had intended the touch to bring him back to reality, but in a brief blizzard of shared consciousness, she felt her memories of Harper’s location lap against his, supplementing and completing them. It was an exquisitely weird sensation, as though their minds had each risen up like the crest of a wave and collapsed into each other, only to recede again in seconds. She jerked her hand back.

‘Oh,’ said Evan, his voice shaky, ‘sorry. I think I zoned out there for a minute. This way.’ He took the lead before anyone could stop him. He didn’t look at Solace.

Laine was a different matter. Her eyes widened, and though she clearly longed to speak, instead she gave a tight, furious shake of her head and clenched her fingers, walking on as swiftly as Evan. Her reaction worried Solace. Laine could obviously tell something was afoot. Most likely, she sensed what had just passed between her and Evan, and resented not being told about it.

Normally impeccably attired, the night’s exertions had left their mark on Laine: her skirt was creased, her shiny hair ruffled, her boots imperfectly laced. There were dark circles under her eyes, all the more visible against her pale skin, and Solace wondered whether the same could also be said of her. Too exhausted to undress, she’d fallen asleep in her clothes, and must have looked a complete mess. Only Evan had showered, and the further they walked, the more she wished she’d done likewise.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Electra asked.

Solace jumped, feeling absurdly embarrassed. ‘I was just wondering about the others,’ she said, trying to keep her voice low. ‘You know. How everyone’s coping after the
jin’sa
. I feel like a house fell on me.’

Electra surprised her by agreeing. ‘Me, too. We definitely went overboard. I feel like such an idiot.’ She tugged thoughtfully on a strand of hair. ‘But then, maybe we needed to blow out a few cobwebs, you know? Ever since the warehouse, things have been out of control. We’ve all been trying to act as though we know what we’re doing, as though we’re responsible adults, when really, this place –’ she gestured at the Rookery, ‘– is, well, terrifying. And I guess getting drunk here was pretty stupid, but it was a bit like a security blanket, too, because it’s what we always
do
. Not a very good security blanket, though,’ she amended. ‘More like an electric blanket. One of those cheap ones that catches fire and kills the elderly while they sleep.’