Downside Rain: Downside book one (15 page)

Until
now, Castle is the only man I have kissed and only when we had sex. It was
fierce and frantic, and sometimes kind of funny when delight made us laugh
against each other’s lips.

This
is nothing like kissing Castle. Alain . . . Alain’s mouth drawing on mine is
hot, urgent, demanding. My knees are so weak, my legs tremble, my stomach
clenches and my body thrums as blood tingles through my veins. I’m surprised my
nipples aren’t gouging holes in his shirt.

He
moans against my lips, holding so tightly a hair can’t come between us, as though
our clothes and the flesh beneath are fused together. His hands cup my buttocks
and press me to him, and he swells against me. Heat explodes low in my belly
and rushes through me like a storm-swollen river, spreading to every extremity
until I pulse and tingle.

I
resent the voice of sanity which says perhaps, at this moment, his words and
tone, the look in his eyes, the savage passion is genuine, just as it was when
he spoke of desire to former lovers before he tossed them aside.

You’re
nothing like those long-limbed princesses
, the steely
inner voice continues relentlessly.
You’re a wraith, you can count on one
hand the number of people who don’t cringe at your touch. Alain’s only interest
is getting you in his bed. Is he so jaded he craves novelty, why else could he
want you? He’s good with sweet talk, I bet he’s had masses of practice, but don’t
you fall for it. You and Castle used each other to satisfy a need but with an
underpinning of affection. Don’t be an occasional lay for Alain Sauvageau.

I
struggle, put my hands on his chest and push. Hot, panting, glaring, I back
away from him.

“Oops!”
A voice says. “Sorry.”

We
look toward the door where Clide grins like a banshee.

A
growl rumbles up Alain’s chest and he turns ferocious eyes on Clide. “I hope
you have a good reason for disturbing me.”

“Jeremy’s
on the phone. I knew you’d want to speak to him,” Clide announces, still
grinning.

Alain’s
shoulders droop. “One minute.” Clide nods and backs out but leaves the door
open.

“Jeremy
Steele is my man in Krapse.” Alain drops his chin and sighs. “I
do
need
to take this. Will you wait for me?”

No,
I can’t. My response to Alain shocks me. Moments ago his accusations angered
me, then he kissed me and I forgot every word. Only Alain mattered. I let my
guard down and would have done anything he wanted. Worse, I still want him so
badly it lingers as an ache inside.

I
move back. “I won’t be another of your trophies, Alain.”

“Trophy?”
Alain sucks in his gut as if the word is a blow. Pain flashes in his eyes, and
is gone as though it never existed. He’s very still, a stance which speaks of
rigid control, his voice so level it could raze a city block. “How can a woman
with your intelligence can be so, utterly, dense?”

I
toss my head. “You’re too used to getting your own way, you want a woman, she
comes running. Not me. Go scratch your itch with someone else.”

I
storm across the courtyard knowing I left a very angry man. Looking at the
gargoyles, I thrust up a finger. “And you can go to hell, too!”

The
vampire sentry looks amused but wipes the smile off his face when I skewer him
with my eyes.

Outside
the compound, I feel like sagging all over. What possessed me, ripping into
Alain like that?

Fear.
For a moment Alain made me think he really cares and that I wanted to believe
him scares the crap out of me.

~*~

River
leans on the window frame and watches Rain weave among other pedestrians as she
walks along the street. Traffic is a muted roar from the next street over. She
looks small down there, a slight figure in black walking with head angled down.

He
lingers at the window after she moves out of sight, watching the street and all
the fantastic creatures mingling with humans. He resists the temptation to put
names to some of them, those his mind says are developments of old tales. Rain
said it will be a mistake, because he’ll automatically endow them with traits
they don’t possess and underestimate the dangerous sides to their natures.

His
gaze tracks up, above the rooftops. Of all the bizarre things he sees Downside,
the sky should be the least of it, yet among the supernatural, the magical, the
ghastly, the sky seems strangest of all. It reminds him of a sunset seen from a
Manhattan rooftop, a bruised bloody-red sometimes streaked with purple, dark-gray
or mustard yellow. Warm rain often falls, from a misty drizzle to a pounding deluge,
yet clouds never scud in the sky. This place gets plenty of moisture but how
can anything grow without sunlight?

Magic,
says Rain.
Magic created Downside and holds it together.

During
the day, the streets are like Manhattan at dusk. Colors look muted except under
artificial light, which River supposes is why the streets are dazzling with
neon and phosphorus lamps. But stray from the principle thoroughfares and shadows
cling to every wall. True night, the sky is dark-red a shade from black,
unrelieved by moon or stars.

He
supposes he will eventually get past comparing Downside to Upside. Rain said
she did, and he must. He remembers to say
Upside
instead of
Earth
.
According to Rain, Downside
is
Earth, but a different part of the globe.

She’s
often a solemn little thing. Distant one minute, warm the next, and short-tempered.
She seemed dour, until she smiled and his insides flipped.

When
she laughed and her face lit up, he wished he had a camera to capture the
image.

After
a time, he sits on the bed and looks at the money. Although Rain handled them
as if they are paper, the rectangular notes are made of wafer thin, flexible
tinted metal with rounded corners. He folds one and rubs his thumb along the
fold; it springs out and flattens, creaseless, when he opens his hand. A
pattern of unrecognizable shapes is etched along the edges. The center of each
note has a picture which reminds River of a rune, but is not.

He
looks around the studio apartment, nothing more than a small room with a bed
and the chair which hangs from the ceiling, a stack of cubes for her
possessions, a stove, sink and fridge. The bathroom is tiny. There isn’t room
for him, he should get his own place.

The
thought turns his insides hollow - he doesn’t want to leave her. It’s as if
something has been missing from his thus far brief life and she is it. He
experiences an overpowering need to protect her, when according to Rain,
he
is the one in need of protection until more informed of this peculiar new
environment.

Why
is he drawn to her? Because she’s the only person like him?

He
shakes his head irritably.

Did
she and her partner have a deeper relationship before he died? She speaks of Castle
as if his name slips from her mouth accidentally, with sadness and longing
River doesn’t believe she knows her voice and expression reflect.

Nothing
River knows about food prepared him for the sublime taste and texture. He wants
more. Rain’s fridge holds milk, a bottle of lager, a jelly jar and something yellow
and runny in a plastic container. He grabs his coat, shrugs into it and leaves
the apartment. Hopefully he can do a little shopping and beat Rain home, or she’ll
flay him with her tongue.

Stepping
to the sidewalk, he looks over at the convenience store next to the motel and
debates going there. In a residential street, its customers are probably from
the two motels and all the apartment blocks. Convenience stores set their
prices high, but finding another shop means leaving the immediate area and he’s
not confident he can move about this city and not become lost.

He
crosses the street with the demeanor of someone who knows where he’s going.
Nope, uh-uh, this strange place doesn’t blow his mind. Nobody looks at him. He’s
not as conspicuous as he feels.

A
bell
tings
as he opens the door and again when he shuts it. At first
glance, Maddox Market is little different from a Mom and Pop corner store in
Manhattan, with shelves and bins and cold storage units, all illuminated by
bright florescent ceiling lights. He snags a wire basket and wanders through
the small store with one hand on the notes in his pocket and no idea what they
are worth. Items are not priced individually, but tags on the shelves bear the
same rune characters as on the notes. In lieu of content listings on boxes,
bottles and cartons, colored pictures or black and white sketches mark the
containers. It works, for those he recognizes; he’ll need an interpreter for others.

He
picks up butter and eggs in the dairy isle, sliced bread and a six-pack of
cherry soda. Rain doesn’t have a toaster but he can fry the bread in butter and
make scrambled eggs.

River
stops stock-still in the middle of the store. He knows how to scramble eggs and
fry bread. He sees it in his mind, but has never seen it with his eyes or done
it with his hands.

He
felt familiar with Manhattan and knew he’d have little problem living there -
well, would not had he a physical presence - but knows little about Downside,
and takes a moment to contemplate. They use money he didn’t see Upside and has
no memory of, commodities are not labeled with the written word and the fresh
produce, while recognizable, is not quite as his mind tells him it should be,
and how can there be green vegetables without a sun?

If
magic is so powerful it’s behind everything which looks similar to an Upside
counterpart, why doesn’t magic create a blue sky with a yellow sun, and a moon
and stars at night?

From
most of what he sees, he could easily be in an Upside market which sells exotic
goods, yet a beardless gnome is selling a pack of cigarettes to a gremlin with
a burring accent.

The
gremlin leaves and River takes his purchases to the counter. Angling over,
trying to do so casually, he sees the gnome stands on a wooden box. He can’t be
more than four feet tall, yet the shelves behind him rise to a high ceiling and
there is no ladder. River hesitates to ask for the small box which catches his
eye, but gives in to temptation.

He
points up. “Can I look at that?”

The
gnome’s gaze follows River’s to the top shelf, he shakes his head of brown
curly hair. “Should have thrown it out. Newer technology don’t work Downside,”
he says in a voice which sounds like two rocks rubbing together.

“You
call that new technology?” River squints up at the shelf. “Why are you selling
it when it doesn’t work?”

“They
come Downside, their gadgets don’t operate. They don’t have money. So I help
them out, give them a few drachs. Don’t expect to sell any of it.”

River
knows the notion is absurd, but the box seems to call to him, not with a voice
but a tug in his guts which as good as says,
come on, take a look, you know
you want to.
“Can I see it?”

The
gnome’s bellow almost knocks River’s head back. “Betty!”

The
floor vibrates. River hastily backs away as a gigantic female figure lumbers
through the arch behind the counter, although only her huge naked breasts and
clothing indicate her gender. She’s hairless, with smooth gray skin and blunt features.
The red and green flounced skirt, golden arm bangles and dangling red crystal
earrings look incongruous.

“Customer
wants thata thing,” the gnome says with a jerk of his stubby thumb at the box.

Such
are the size and rigidity of her breasts, for an inane moment River thinks the
gnome will use them as a step to access the top shelf, but she reaches up and removes
the box with sausage-sized fingers. After passing the box to the gnome, she
retreats into the back.

Slightly
shaken, River opens the box after blowing at and wiping off a thick layer of
dust. Black and sleek, the contents feel good in his hand. He slips it in one
coat pocket, the accessories in the other and leaves the box on the counter. “I’ll
take it.”

The
gnome grimaces. “Your money, your loss.”

He
rings up River’s purchases using a machine similar to an old-fashioned till and
puts everything else in a paper sack. “That’ll be twenty-five drachs.”

River
settles a note on the counter and the gnome scowls at him. “You got nothing
smaller?”

River
finds a note with a different rune and holds it up.

The
furrows in the gnome’s broad forehead deepen. “You’re going to take all my
change.” He peers at River from beneath ridged brows. “You’re him, ain’t you,
the guy Rain brought down.”

“Guilty
as charged.”

“Don’t
get many new ones nowadays,” he comments, leaning on one elbow. He surprises
River by offering his hand. “Name’s Noddy.”

River
instinctively knows Noddy won’t like to hold a half-fleshed hand and becomes
solid before shaking. “I’m River.”

Noddy
pulls notes and coins from the open till and hands them to River. He chin-nods
at the window. “So you’re living with Rain at Angelina’s.”

“Temporarily.
Who’s Angelina?”

“The
owner, Rain’s landlord.” Noddy leans on the counter and speaks in a lower
voice. “Watch yourself around that one, half-life.”

Half-life.
It sounds like a casual greeting coming from Noddy’s lips, like calling someone
pal
or
buddy
. “Why?” he asks.

“Rain
should have warned you. Ask her.” Noddy hops off the box and is visible behind
the counter from nose up. “Got to check stock. Good day to you, young fellah.”

“Sure.
You too.”

River
exits the shop and stands on the sidewalk. Well, that was easy. Bought a few
things, chatted with the storekeeper. Nothing weird about it.

A
loud jangling makes him start and he hurries over the street to avoid a
gangling figure on a bicycle which rings the bell again as it zips past. Skinny,
pasty white legs protrude from yellow shorts and baleful gray eyes glare from
beneath a black hoodie. An exceedingly tall female in a long white gown yells,
“Pedestrians only, assjacket!” from the opposite side of the street.

As
the cyclist zooms into the distance, the woman looks at River and smiles, her
lower jaw dropping as though hinged to reveal long jagged teeth. River
thinks
she’s smiling. Apart from the jaw she looks close to human, until she
giggles and a sinewy brown tail winds out of her dress and waves at him.

River
gets into the apartment building fast.

The
door at the bottom of the stairs stands open. Light from inside the room frames
a tall, gloriously built woman whose copper hair tumbles over milk-white
shoulders. Her strapless green dress cups magnificent breasts and sheathes a
tiny waist.

River’s
mouth is dry. His feet are stuck to the floor.

Her
voice is a husky croon. “You must be River. I’m Angelina.” She waves one hand
and his eyes follow the movement, mesmerized. “No, Rain didn’t talk to me, I
haven’t seen her. The news is all over this part of Gettaholt.”

Her
fingers, splayed, flutter to her bosom, in River’s opinion the perfect place
for them.

She
glides back into the room. “Come in. If you’re living here, we should become
acquainted.”

He
tries to say he’s not living with Rain, not really, only temporarily, but the
words won’t come.

As
she turns and her eyes release him, he feels callow and stupid. He clears his
throat. “I’ll look for my own place tomorrow. I won’t be in Rain’s hair long.”

“In
her hair?” She winks. “Are you sure that’s all you’re in?”

Before
he can reply she lays a hand on his arm and guides him through the doorway, and
he follows along meekly. Her innuendo should rouse at least a smidgen of
indignation on Rain’s behalf, but coherent thought is increasingly difficult.

“You
can leave those there.” Angelina taps the grocery sack and twirls gracefully
before moving deeper into the apartment. He dumps the groceries near the door
and hurries after her to a lounge. Facing him, she leans in so he smells her mint-laced
breath. “Make yourself comfortable, darling.”

Her
apartment is warm and her gaze makes heat sear through River’s body. He
twitches and fattens inside his pants. Turning to remove his coat and drop it
on the back of a couch is an excuse to make an adjustment and ensure the
T-shirt covers his embarrassment. When he faces her again, she’s lounging on
the couch, one arm along the back. She pats the cushion.