Black On Black (Quentin Black Mystery #3) (35 page)

Even now, with me being an adult, he was tall.

I’d assumed my memories of his height were distorted from my being so much smaller, but he still looked tall to me. Not as tall as Black, who had to be over six and a half feet, but Uncle Charles looked to me to be around six-one or six-two.

Looking up at his face, I felt like a kid all over again.

“Why are you here?” My words blurred along with my vision. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, still leaning into his caressing hands and fingers. “Why did you come back now, after everything... ?”

Then something else hit me. My mind cleared, if only a little, of that fog.

Black, thinking I came here because of what he’d shown me in those files.

Black wanting me to realize it was safe for me to come, that no one in this group of terrorists and crime lords would ever dream of hurting me.

Black needing me to come rescue him personally.

I remembered those files, Black’s scrawled handwriting on the pictures of my two uncles. I remembered what he’d written under Uncle Charles’ picture.

In the same gap between breaths, another memory flashed behind my eyes, this time of my father. Well, of all of us really, sitting around a campfire on the beach after kayaking all day in the Pacific Northwest. My sister and I were drinking hot cocoa and charcoaling marshmallows and burning our fingers as we pulled them off sticks to make s’mores for the adults. We handed each one we made to one of the grownups proudly, then went back to making more, enthralled more with the process of creation than with actually eating them.

My father and my mother sat on a driftwood log, my mother between my father’s legs, his hands wrapped in her hair and massaging her shoulders. My two uncles were there too, and two of my mom’s sisters and several of my mother’s cousins.

They were drinking something a lot harder than hot cocoa.

They passed the bottle around, telling stories and jokes and laughing.

Zoe and I were the only two kids there and would be sent off to bed soon while the adults stayed up for hours. In the meantime we were tasked with dessert, so I only half-listened to them talk, focusing on getting the perfect brown-black crust around each marshmallow before I stuck the stick carefully between the two graham crackers and piece of Hershey’s chocolate that Zoe had ready for me on a paper plate.

At one point, I remember my father’s voice booming out, rising above the rest of the laughter-filled voices. Even back then, at maybe seven years old, I could tell he was already a little drunk.

“...You certainly were named accurately,”
my father joked to Uncle Charles, shaking his head.
“How do you get away with this crap, seriously... ? I would be dead by now.”

Was it only my imagination, or did he make that clicking noise as he said it?

“...You’ve even got the eye color to back it up,”
my dad added teasingly.
“You should start wearing four-leaf clovers around, just to taunt the rest of us...”

“To give you yet another reason to laugh at me, brother?”
Uncle Charles said.
“No, thank you. I’d rather like to think I provide you enough entertainment as I am...”

Catching me watching from the other side of the fire, he winked at me, smiling faintly as he raised the bottle of alcohol to his lips. He took a long drink then passed it to my mother’s aunt. One of my mother’s cousins sat comfortably between his legs, her head leaning on his thigh. I hadn’t thought about it at the time, but in my memory now I clearly saw her hand stroking his calf under his loose pants he wore.

My dad laughed again.
“What do you care? You’d probably find a way to turn that in your favor too...”
He glanced at me, noticing me watching them.
“And stop corrupting my daughters. I can see you’re itching to start brainwashing them already.”

“Not both of them.”
Uncle Charlie smiled wider at me, winking again, conspiratorially that time.
“Just one of them maybe. A particularly fiery one, if I’m not mistaken...”

“Leave my little Miri alone...”
my dad scolded, his voice still mostly joking.
“She may not live under your lucky star, brother. I’d like to see her live to a ripe old age, if it’s all the same to you...”

“She’ll live,”
Uncle Charles said, his green eyes still on me.
“That is one thing I can absolutely promise you, brother...
 
nothing will kill my little Miri. I won’t allow it.”

“Faustus,” I murmured.

The sound of my own voice snapped me out of that movie of the past.

I refocused on those beautiful, light-filled eyes, seeing them now, in the present, under a starker white light versus the yellow-orange of firelight. A flawless jade, the color of new leaves, they remained as stunning now as what I remembered as a child.

Understanding washed over me, even as a sick feeling grew in my stomach.

“Faustus means ‘luck’ in Latin,” I said.

His smile returned, tauter that time, but he didn’t speak.

He didn’t even nod to confirm my words.

I saw a serious look take over his expression as he continued to watch my face. I could almost feel him willing me to put the pieces together, to make it all come out in a coherent picture. I could feel him willing me to accept it.

To accept him, maybe.

“You’re Lucky,” I said. “You’re Lucky Lucifer.”

I nearly choked on the words.

Fifteen

UNCLE

“LET US GO somewhere we can talk,” he said, once more gripping my arms. He glanced over at Nick and Angel, not quite with indifference but with a certain air of dismissal. “...Alone,” he added, softer, leaning his forehead briefly against mine. “You can decide what you want to tell your friends later, but I think we should talk alone first, Miriam.”

I nodded, feeling that tightness in my chest worsen.

I glanced reluctantly at Angel and Nick, then at the four seers standing there, their faces still holding no expression at all. I looked at the red-eyed one the longest.

“They’ll be quite safe,” Uncle Charles assured me.

I glanced back at him, frowning as my jaw tightened.

“What about Black?” I said.

Amusement touched Uncle Charles’ face, but he quickly wiped it away when I didn’t return his smile. “He will be quite all right too, Miri.”

“He’s hurt. Badly. Thanks to you.”

“Not as badly as you might think. I’ll have my people take care of it...” His words trailed, even as he seemed to be listening to some faraway sound. After a too-long pause, he looked at me. “He’s offering resistance to my people. You might need to talk to him, Miri.”

Without waiting, I pulled the rest of the way out of his embrace.

I walked around the back of the jagged stone pedestal of
Winged Victory
, aiming my feet for Black. When I rounded the corner of the base, I found him trying to get to his feet, shoving back seers who were trying to put their hands on him.

“Stop it!” I snapped.

I said it without thought.

I wasn’t even sure which of them I was talking to.

Luckily, it worked for all of them. They froze, staring up at me.

Meeting Black’s gaze when he looked up, I struggled as another wave of emotion hit me, wiping away any hope of calm. I knew seeing Uncle Charles had thrown me way off balance already, but I still had to fight to get my equilibrium back when Black’s gold eyes met mine.

I couldn’t even put words to those feelings, not anymore.

I barely noticed the other seers watching me warily from near Black.

“Let them help you,” I snapped at him. “Let them
help
you, goddamn it. They’re not going to hurt you. Uncle Charles...” I stumbled on the name. “...He won’t hurt you.”

“Don’t go with him, Miri!” Black said. “Not alone.”

It struck me, in staring back at him, that we were giving each other orders.

Moreover, they felt like real orders. Meaning, I didn’t really question his right to ask that of me...
 
nor did I feel him questioning my right to tell him what to do, either.

Nodding, I met his gaze, looking up from where I’d been frowning at the blood seeping through the shirt and belt bandage. When I caught his stare that time, emotion stunned me all over again.

“You’re an asshole,” I said, tears coming to my eyes. “You’re a fucking asshole, and I’m never trusting you again...”

“I’m sorry––”

“No you’re not. You
lied
to me...
 
you took that signal scanner off me...
 
manipulated me with that kiss.” I swallowed, realizing I was shouting. Moreover, all the seers around us were watching me yell at him. Nick and Angel likely were too.

“You’re an asshole,” I repeated, fighting a tightness in my throat.

“Don’t go with him
alone,
goddamn it,” Black growled. “Please, Miriam. I’m asking you. I’m fucking
asking
you not to do it––”

“I heard you.” I stared down at him, frustrated. I could feel he was worried about me, but somehow that only made me angrier. He was on the floor, possibly bleeding out, and he was worried about me with Uncle Charles.

“He’s not going to hurt me,” I said.

“I’m not worried about him hurting you. I’m worried about him
taking
you. Or hadn’t it occurred to you he might take you from me?”

I stared at him. The wording might have offended me if it had been anyone else, but I could feel the emotion behind it with Black.

With him, it confused me mainly because it touched me.

A voice spoke from directly behind me then, and I jumped nearly a foot.

“I won’t take her, brother.” I could feel Uncle Charles’ annoyance, despite his amused tone. “...Or do I need to start calling you ‘nephew’ now?” He glanced at me, that harder look still in his eyes. “If you really are concerned, you may join us, Mr. Black. Providing Miriam approves, of course. They can patch you up while we talk... ?”

I distinctly got the impression he made the offer grudgingly.

But he was looking at me, lifting his eyebrow in an obvious question, hands clasped at the base of his spine––so I nodded.

“Fine,” I said. “That’s fine.”

“It’s a bit of a walk,” Uncle Charles cautioned, glancing again at Black. “Across the courtyard to Richelieu, I’m afraid.”

“Not a problem,” Black said at once.

His voice held zero compromise.

Uncle Charles inclined his head as if making the concession, but I felt his irritation sharpen. He motioned two of his seers to help Black to his feet. I watched them get him upright. Seeing the relief in Black’s expression, I had to bite my lip to keep from reacting to that too. I still couldn’t untangle any of my feelings around Black himself––nor the intense pangs of guilt I felt when I glanced over my shoulder and saw Angel and Nick watching us, worry in both of their eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” I assured them. I looked from Angel’s face to Nick’s. “I promise, it’ll be okay. Let them fix you up. We’ll be back soon.”

I could almost feel Nick wanting to tell me not to go.

I honestly couldn’t tell if his reasons were radically different from Black’s.