The Taste Of Night

26

Every person I’ve ever met believes, to a varying extent, that everything happens for a reason. Sometimes the reason is as simple as you made a bad decision, you were a dumbass, and now you’ve got to pay. Other times the reasons go deeper, and you can feel in the soft grit of your marrow that there are other, greater powers at work in life. That’s how I felt as I returned to Olivia’s apartment after my meeting with Ben. No, I hadn’t discovered anything incriminating or surprising or even useful on Olivia’s disks. But if the computer hadn’t been stolen, and I hadn’t taken Olivia’s backups to that particular coffee shop, I would’ve never run into Ben. I would’ve never heard about his involvement in the missing scientist’s case or known about his date the following Saturday.

Thus I would have never known to follow him.

I only considered this option because he was obviously so helpless. A man dependent on the police’s misinformation about a sexual virus was going on his first date with someone since his love-his one true love, dammit-had died. Someone needed to look out for him. Someone needed to protect him from what he didn’t know…not to mention this Rose woman who had contacted him out of the blue, without knowing anything more than noodles and beaches turned him on. Surprisingly, when I shared this with Hunter-and I had to; he could sense my agitation the moment I walked in the door-he agreed.

“He was clean in the café, right?” he asked, taking a bite out of an apple as he perched on the kitchen countertop. “You didn’t smell any disease lingering about him?”

Reaching into the cabinet to pull out a wineglass, I shook my head. I felt odd about drinking in front of Hunter after what he’d told me of his past, but he insisted it didn’t bother him. And I really wanted a drink right now.

“Then it’s your duty to make sure he stays that way,” he said, gesturing with his apple. No sign of jealousy, interest, or care either way. Partners, remember, I told myself.

“How?” I gave myself a healthy pour of Sauvignon Blanc and swirled it in the glass as I turned back to him.

He shrugged, and with his mouth full, said, “Kiss him.”

I froze, glass halfway to my mouth. “You mean…infect him?” I asked, my voice high.

“I mean protect him.” He slipped from the counter where he’d been sitting, reached into his pocket, and held a small white disk out to me.

No, not a disk, I saw, flipping it in my hand. A cassette, like the ones Micah used in his labs. I looked back up at him, my question plain upon my face.

“Your blood work,” he explained, taking another bite. “I couldn’t steal the paperwork from Micah’s lab, but the physical evidence is there. You’re not immune to the virus because that initiate kissed you. You’re immune because you’re part Shadow.”

I glanced back down at the cassette, and saw my hand was trembling.

“See, I got to thinking after you were kicked out. Even if I were a Shadow bent on infecting innocents and agents of Light, I’d still want to get my groove on now and then.”

I quirked a brow in his direction. “Poetic.”

“Isn’t it?” he said with a twist of his lips. “But it would be a bit of a mood kill if your partners went up in flames every time you laid one on them.”

“Definitely hard on a relationship,” I agreed.

“So I decided there had to be some kind of fail-safe built into this virus. I’m willing to bet all the Shadows can have sex without infecting their partners. They’re genetically excluded, which means you can still-”

“-have sex with anyone I want,” I finished for him. And imbue them with immunity, as I had Hunter.

He smiled bittersweetly at the thinly veiled excitement in my voice. “He’ll still need to stay away from this Rose, or anyone else who might be infected until then, but with one kiss from you, the love of his life…”

He won’t even want to kiss someone else. My heart began to pound madly in my chest. And that might just buy me enough time to find the serum that could save us all.

So I decided Hunter was right-not that it took much convincing-and plotted aloud my plans to save Ben from himself, ignoring the sarcastic voice in my head sneering, Aren’t we noble. “He’s taking her to the show at Valhalla. I thought I’d follow at a safe distance, see if I could scent the virus on her, then figure out a way to separate them if I did.”

Hunter shook his head, targeted the trash can beside the counter with his apple core, and shot. Two points. Wasn’t living with a man fun? “That’ll be too late. What are you going to do, jump out of the bushes when he walks her to her door? Push her aside so he kisses you instead?”

I frowned. “I’ll figure something out.” Probably.

Wiping his hands on his pants, he gave me a hard look. “Not good enough. You can’t take any chances, so cut her off at the pass. You have to kiss him first.”

“How am I supposed to do that looking like this?” I waved a hand down my very Olivia, very little-sister-to-Ben body.

Hunter shrugged and pushed himself off the counter. “Not my problem…and I don’t need to know all the gory details. Just…protect him. Trust me. You’ll hate yourself if you don’t.”

And that was personal experience talking, but before I could get into it further, he turned his back and headed down the hallway leading to the guest room.

“What about Cher and Suzanne?” I called after him.

“I don’t know, but if you end up kissing them, call me. I wanna watch.”

I reached in the fruit basket and threw an apple at him, but he ducked, and the apple exploded in a thunderous splat against the hallway wall. “Perv.”

I stood in Ben’s living room four hours later, telling myself I was just doing as Hunter suggested, and taking care of my own. The room was neat, if sparse, everything in its place but for a bowl and spoon lying in the kitchen sink, and a baseball cap thrown on a ratty old couch. The only thing marring this almost anal-retentive tidiness was the plants. I don’t know why, but Ben liked to nurture varietals that shouldn’t even be combined in the same sentence as desert, showering them with the time, love, and patience they required to grow in 110-degree heat. And under his care they not only grew, they thrived. He was a badass P.I. who’d beat down the meanest street thug without a second thought, but he sure loved his green things.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge as I looked around, searching for photos or letters or clues to the man I knew, but like me, he’d tucked most of his memories away. But if I could find some sign of the man I’d left sleeping soundly in his bed only months earlier, I knew my plan would work; I’d find my way back into his heart and mind. Cruel, maybe, but it’d keep him safe.

I wandered into the bedroom, where I leaned close to the dresser mirror, staring hard at my reflection. It and the room were tinted the faintest violet hue. I placed my bottle down on the dresser and jerked my head, an almost violent motion that left a smudged outline where I’d been standing. The outline filled in like smoke in a form mirroring mine, then snapped to mold itself back to my frame. In that brief moment I saw Olivia’s face, clear as day. Then my own dark, serious eyes were back, filtered through to the outside world, encased in Jasmine’s aura.

“Are you sure, Jasmine?” I’d asked the changeling at least a dozen times after she’d consented to helping me. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I do,” she assured me, gazing up at me with eyes that were both questioning and trusting at the same time. “It’s just an unusual request. I’ve never heard of binding to an agent who wasn’t in danger before.”

“You think it can be done?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Zane has warned us not to extend our auras to anyone outside of the shop. But I think that’s just because he likes to keep an eye on us, you know. Make sure…”

She faltered, trailing off, obviously afraid of offending me.

“No one takes off with your aura?” I guessed, and she answered with a small nod. I patted her shoulder. “I don’t blame him.”

“It’s just very important for the changelings to live on. For the good of the Zodiac, I mean.”

“And for you,” I said, sweeping her bangs from her forehead. “You have a whole life ahead of you. I promise, I’ll take care to see that you grow up.”

“Oh, but I don’t want to grow up,” she said earnestly. “Grown-ups don’t get to hang out in Master Comics. And if I grow up I’ll have to forget all about you!”

She wrapped her little arms around my waist and clung to me in a more natural fashion. I patted her head awkwardly, then returned her embrace, silently swearing to cocoon her lifeless body as safely as was possible.

“And don’t get in any fights, okay?” she warned once I had her tucked in safely at Olivia’s apartment. “You may be immune to mortal weapons, but a knife through my aura will kill me just as readily as if I was standing there.”

“I promise. And Luna will make sure no Shadows get anywhere near you,” I said, and bolstered the pillows on the day bed like a mother bird plumping a nest for her eggs. Nothing was going to happen to her. “Thank you, Jasmine.”

“Anything I can do to serve.”

Then she changed from that smooth-cheeked girl into the monster, and finally the smoky, elongated shade that all too eerily mirrored my own. It was like the sun was hitting me from behind and casting my shadow up in front of me. I stepped through it, and all that remained of our two images was a singular pale face, one I’d taken for granted for twenty-four years, and had been missing these past months.

“Welcome back, Joanna,” I said to myself, then pushed away from the mirror.

There was nothing in Ben’s bedroom to indicate he still thought of me, which I supposed was healthy. If he had possessed some artifact, a lock of hair or something, he’d probably be unhinged by now, and I definitely didn’t want that. I’d already promised myself to do everything in my power to make sure there was no lingering psychological damage from this visit, but as I rustled through his bedside drawer, finding nothing more interesting than an empty holster, I was mildly disappointed.

I found what I wanted in the study, though, tucked inside a vertical wire rack marked “Unsolved,” and a thick folder with my initials on it. The photo that had run almost constantly in the papers and on TV during the week after my apparent death was stapled to the inside flap, and a notebook filled with scribbled notes and theories was lying on top. It was fascinating, if disturbing, to see the way Ben’s thoughts, early on, had been a rambling jumble of conspiracy theories and conjecture before cooling more recently into a practical timeline of events and hard facts.

Strangely enough, the earlier entries were the closest to the truth, and I saw that he’d initially thought Olivia was the next target, which explained why-in those early days-I’d caught the edge of his shadow trailing me, a whiff of sorrow and desperation preceding him. I couldn’t remember exactly when that feeling had tapered off, but it had, slowly, until it was noticeable only by its absence. That’s when his mind must have cleared from the muddied disorder of his grief, and he was able to function again…which was how I knew he’d never know the truth. Reason was the last thing needed to understand what had happened to me. A healthy imagination and a full bottle of Scotch would have served him better.

I yelped when the phone trilled next to me, putting a hand to my heart. I’d completely lost track of time. I was calm by the time the answering machine picked up, but Ben’s message caused my heart to speed up again. I reached forward to play it again, just so I could hear that cool, clear voice, but the beep sounded, and then her voice piped into the room.

“Hey, Benny. I’m just calling to chat, no great emergency or anything. Uh, but I guess you’re not there. Anyway, I’m looking forward to Saturday. I hope you’re hungry. Call me later, all right? ’Bye.”

I glared at the machine like it was a mortal enemy. “Benny?” I said bitingly. My heart was pumping, my hands shaking as I pushed replay to hear the message again, but first I had to wait through another.

“Yo, B. The stakeout’s been moved to L Street and it’s an hour later. Bring a cup to pee in, it’s an all-nighter. And munchies, dude. I’m hungry. Later.”

“So that’s where he is,” I said. Well, he’d said he still helped out the department on an auxiliary basis. He was probably just acting as an extra pair of eyes on this stakeout. Even so, with that phone call my plans to seduce Ben in his home blew up in my face. So I strode to the kitchen and tossed my beer as Rose’s voice sounded again through the house.

“I hope you’re hungry,” I mimicked, and relieved Ben of one phone call to return.

What? Hunter had said to cut Rose off at the pass, but now that I knew where Ben was for the night-and now that the voice, that message, had made her real to me-I was going to do more than that. I was going to cut her off at the knees.

“Benny, my ass.” And I slammed the door shut behind me.