Downside Rain: Downside book one (23 page)

“I
think she’s missing.”

A
slight frown puckers Sauvageau’s brow. “Think?”

“This
is going to sound crazy, but I had a vision.”

“This
is Downside. Nothing is crazy. Have a seat.” Sauvageau indicates the chair
facing his desk. “Tell me about it.” He tents his hands and taps the fingers on
his chin as he studies River.

How
Sauvageau watches him makes the hairs on River’s neck prickle as he moves into
the room. He warily eases into a chair, then wishes he’d remained standing. Sauvageau’s
unblinking contemplation makes him feel like prey.

“Please
continue,” Sauvageau prompts.

River
swallows. “I saw a man. He looked kind of like me. I mean, a wraith. Except he
wasn’t quite . . . there. He told me Rain needs my help, she’s in danger. He
looked like . . . a ghost.” He omits he was with Angelina at the time.

Sauvageau’s
feet slip off the desk and settle on the floor. “Describe this apparition.”

“Big,
muscular, black hair and dark eyes. Wore a brown trench coat, it looked like
canvas. Though he was hazy, more of an impression on the air.”

“Your
description is of Rain’s former partner, Castle.”

River
hunches his shoulders and leans over his knees. “I’ve never seen Castle. He
died before I came. You don’t sound surprised.”

The
man spreads his hands. “This is Downside.”

The
phrase - which Rain is fond of using when she can’t explain the inexplicable - irritates
River. “And ghosts aren’t unusual Downside?”

“They
are rare. They usually materialize when they have a mission, an irrepressible
compulsion which drags them from the nether world.”

“He
said she’ll die if I don’t help her.”

The
intensity of Sauvageau’s gaze pins River to the chair. He opens his mouth as if
struggling for words, then closes it and swallows. Yet, when he speaks, his
tone is chill, implacable. “I’ll put every resource at my disposal to finding
her. If any person has harmed her, they’ll suffer. Be assured of that. Rain is
dear to me.”

Is
she now?
If Alain indeed cares for Rain, nothing in his
voice reflects his feelings. River stands, pushing the chair with the backs of
his knees to give him space. “As she is to me.”

“Where
can I find you, if I learn anything?”

River
means to keep to the streets, searching, asking after Rain. He can periodically
check in at Rain’s apartment but he doesn’t know the address or telephone
number. “I live with Rain. If I’m not there, you can leave a message on her machine,
or a note under the door.”

Sauvageau
stands and stares at him. Just stares, face blank, eyes unblinking. In the
following silence, River experiences the weirdest sensation, one he’s pretty
damn sure he’s never felt before, as though electricity crackles through the
room. Every hair on his body stands at attention. Static lifts the hair from
his scalp.

His
breath lodges in his windpipe. Every nerve end shrieks he should get the hell
out. But he’s not helpless. If the man comes at him, he’ll disappear. It’ll
leave him naked but the move will surprise Sauvageau, giving River time to get his
pistol.

But
Sauvageau spins on his heel and gives River his back. “Very well. You will be
the first to know when I learn anything.”

Someone
clears their throat. River looks over his shoulder at the tall female vampire.

“Capucine
will show you out,” Sauvageau says.

River
quits the enclave with more questions, though not about Rain. It would be easy
to think Sauvageau turned his back to regain control over his emotions. Yet apart
from one small lapse, the guy seemed emotionless. Alain turned away to hide
something he was not supposed to see.

Rain
said,
“Rumor says those who cross him have a habit of disappearing.”

He
should watch his back.

~*~

River
roams the streets from Sauvageau’s house to the high walls and tenements of the
dock district and the river, from there up the hill to where palatial homes behind
high railings surround paved squares, back down into mazes of shops and
boutiques, bistros and beauty parlors. He barely notices the strange creatures
he passes. Should he return to Rain’s apartment? Nah. He knows, gut-deep, she
won’t be there. And Angelina has gathered her wits by now; he doesn’t want to
run into her because his promise to kill her was an empty threat. Although she
nearly destroyed him, he’ll dream about what they did together.

A
memory intrudes as he walks along Kings Way and he wants to kick himself for
forgetting the one person who might be able to tell him where Rain is.

~*~

Alain’s
stance is one of controlled violence. The muscles in his arms and shoulders
bulge, his jaw is rigid and his fingers curve like talons. His mouth opens and his
lips curl tightly over his teeth; his face darkens as if blood boils beneath the
skin. The inner corners of his eyes are red, not the bright red of burst blood
vessels, but greasy carmine which bleeds into the whites.

He
swallows his anger. But fear for Rain addles his thoughts and threatens his
control when he needs a clear head.

“Capucine!”

The
door whines on its hinges as Capucine slams it open. She hurries to Alain.
“Alain, what is it? What did the kid do? Shall I go hurt him?” She circles
Alain’s shoulders with her arms.

As
always, the vampire’s chill proximity smothers Alain’s heat. He stays in her
arms until firmly in control again, and touches her shoulder. “Thank you. No,
leave the boy, he’s harmless.” He shifts, and Capucine drops her arms and moves
back. “Really, I’m fine, my dear.”

He
summons a smile he doesn’t feel. “Get Clide in here.”

As
Capucine leaves, her face creased with concern, he resumes his seat at the desk
and analyzes the past half hour, what the wraith told him and his own response.
He’s furious he let River’s simple statement rip the leash off his emotions.
I
live with Rain.
A dozen scenarios rioted through his mind, Rain and River
together, sharing what she denies him.

Sharing
her life.

He
can put the words into perspective. Rain brought the new wraith Downside only
recently and is his sponsor, therefore naturally he’s at her apartment. Yet the
beast had roused; deep, bitter, primitive envy and the need to possess and
dominate overwhelmed his humanity.
She is mine!

Again,
he smothers rage as one banks a fire, safe for now but easily ignited. Trying
to own Rain in the way the beast craves will send her running in the opposite
direction and he couldn’t bear that.

He
feels the passion in her, the need, yet she pushes him away. Why can he not get
through to her, make her believe she’s more than a passing fancy? Doesn’t she
understand passing fancies are just that, they don’t cling for years? His fleeting
affairs make her believe he’s incapable of commitment, but would she rather he
had serious long-term relationships with other women? No, because she’ll think
him unable to maintain
any
relationship. The infamous catch-22, he can’t
win either way.

Alain
vigorously rubs his forehead and tries to concentrate on what really matters. The
boy and what he roused is unimportant; his message is.

There
is absolutely no reason for the wraith to concoct a tale of Castle’s return as
a spirit. The spirit’s message terrifies Alain.

Clide
arrives before another minute passes. “You wanted me, Alain?”

“Clide,
Rain is in difficulty. I want everyone you can spare combing the streets,
making inquiries. Find her.”

“How
do you know this, boss?”

“In
a few words, the new wraith had a visitation, none other than Castle, who told
him Rain’s life is at risk.”

“Well
I’ll be.” Clide digs a fang into his lower lip. “You sure he’s not jumping at
shadows? Maybe your little lady is on a solo job and the kid doesn’t understand
she can take care of herself.”

“No,
I believe him. He didn’t know Castle, yet described him. Whatever Rain is
involved in, it’s bad enough to rouse Castle from the grave.”

“Yeah,
well - ”

Alain
has never demanded unquestioning obedience, yet now, seething with dread and
impatience, Clide tossing questions when he should be instructing the staff
astonishes him. His skin grows hot and darkens as blood surges to the surface. “Clide,”
he interrupts in a grinding voice with a savage edge. “Why are you still here?”

Clide
hurries to stand behind Alain and press cold hands on his shoulders. “Alain, easy
now.”

As
the vampire’s icy aura washes over him, Alain is appalled. He’s kept his temper
when his patience was tested to the nth degree, when he wanted to rip off limbs
and see blood flow, but his control is slipping now and dangerously close to
failing altogether. He clamps his lips together, rubs his hand down his face. “Thank
you. Please accept my apology, my friend. You think I’m overreacting, yet consider
the magnitude of Castle rising from the netherworld to deliver his message.
Rain’s situation must be dire.”

Clide
squeezes Alain’s shoulders. “Forget it. I’m already gone.” He goes to the door
and pauses there. “Are you okay now?”

Alain
closes his eyes. “Yes. I have to be.”

Alain
can’t keep still after Clide leaves. He paces the small room, sits at his desk,
jumps up, paces. His men and women can scour the length and breadth of
Gettaholt and learn nothing. He looks into the fireplace until the smoldering
embers fill his eyes. He will kill any person who hurts Rain.

He
can’t lose Rain. He’ll be half a man without her. And the other half . . . if
his other half is let loose on Gettaholt, every man, woman and child will
regret the day.

He
leaves his office and hurries to his bedroom on the mansion’s top floor. The
circular room abuts the compound wall, the single small window is protected by
iron bars set deep in the stonework. His bed covers are turned back, his robe
laid across the foot of the bed, a glass and decanter wait on a small table
next to his armchair. He opens his closet. Parting the clothes on the rail, he
pushes an all but invisible button on the back wall and a narrow panel silently
swings open.

He
doesn’t want bodyguards where he is going.

Alain
carries his dark mood through Gettaholt. Pedestrians skitter from his approach.
Shadows ooze over the sidewalk to fawn around his feet and lamps flicker as he
passes beneath them. Cars screech to a stop when he steps into the street and
strides across looking neither left nor right, yet not one horn honks in
protest.

He’s
surprised to spot River’s dark head in the crowd. Alain hangs back and watches.
River is questing back and forth across the street, pausing to eye side streets
and alleys, and check the skyline as though he has a destination but isn’t sure
how to reach it. Alain follows far enough behind he can duck in a doorway should
River look back. They seem to be going in the same direction.

The
crowd thins as they leave the commercial district and enter a rundown area of slums
and small dowdy shops. When River turns down the next street, Alain knows they
are making for the same destination.

~*~

River
climbs the winding staircase to the angel’s loft. If as Rain says, it knows
everything, it knows he’s coming, yet a heavy silence waits above. No song, no
bottle flying past his head. Only an ominous silence. Is the angel angry because
he came here? He’ll know soon. He doesn’t feel brave, quite the opposite. Mournful,
inebriated, the angelic being is still monumentally powerful and destroys
buildings on a drunken whim.

The
alabaster angel stands with wings spread when River’s head pokes through the trapdoor.
Its voice sings a warbling tremolo. “
What you in your ivory tower, deceit
and death and gloom?”

River
clambers through the trapdoor. “You said that before. I didn’t understand then,
I still don’t. Even Rain didn’t get it.”

Hands,
held together, extend to him in a gesture which seems to beg for understanding.
“I stand in grave’s sight and find you here.”

Standing,
River is dwarfed by the angel’s size. It looks taller and bulkier than before.

“Nope.
Not a word.” He moves from the trapdoor but not too far, in case he has to dive
through it. “Listen, I need help. I can’t find Rain and I’m sure she’s in
trouble. You know where she is.”

It
stares at him for a moment before collapsing into a crouch. Its face slaps into
its palms. River takes that for an angel version of rolling eyes, as if it can’t
believe he doesn’t understand.

When
it lifts its head, its faceted crystal eyes are level with River’s.

If
it indeed shares its frustration, then River’s emotions are identical. He looks
into those eyes hoping to find something human, but nothing he can understand
stares back. “You know where she is and what’s happening to her. If you care
for her, why don’t you help her?”

Does
he imagine the crystal gaze sharpening in anger? River steps back and his heel
hits the edge of the trapdoor.

Does
something, some divine overlord, shackle it and stop it from aiding anyone?
Were
it me, I’d be angry when a guy rages at me for what I can’t help.

River
tries another tack. “You can fly. Why don’t you lead me to Rain? I’ll follow on
the ground. That’s all you have to do, show me where, I’ll do the rest.”

Its
head turns to the huge gap in the slanting ceiling, then it covers its face
with its hands again.

It
isn’t going to help.

“If
Rain dies, you’ll be alone again.” River can’t contain his anger. “Damn you!
You won’t even help people who befriend you. If I were your god, I’d cast you
out, too.”

Oh,
that does it. Or does something. It surges upright and is over River in one long
stride. Its features writhe. Its wings curve overhead.

River
forgets he can lose substance and escape the angel. He is a dead man. One of
those razor-edged wings will carve his head from his shoulders.

But
it shunts back and hunkers down. With a last searing look, its wings curl over
its body until all River sees is a great ball of feathers.

Cursing,
he lets himself through the trapdoor and blunders down the steps.

~*~

Alain
steps from behind the staircase as River strides through the shrine in a direct
path, kicking glass and wood out of his way. Alain lets him go.

River
didn’t understand the angel’s message, but some of it gives Alain hope. He knows
where to look first. He could question the angel but the creature will likely
ignore him out of spite. There is no love lost between them.

He
hurries from the shrine, through the abandoned square and along streets where
the crowds are thinning.

Inside
Alain’s head, the angel’s voice is deep and powerful.
“Return to your lair,
monster
.”

Alain
keeps going. “Who is the monster? I, or you who know the evil committed in this
fair city and do nothing?”

“You
could have found the woman yet refused to open your eyes. Why?”

It
means Rain. This wretched thing speaks of Rain. “You know what I must become to
use my Sight.”

“You
would be as I am, all-seeing, all-knowing, cursed to feel their pain and
despair yet never daring to intervene lest you bring about your doom. You are a
coward and a hypocrite.”

Forcing
him to stop, the angel settles in front of him in a flurry of feathers.

“Get
out of my way.” Alain’s nails dig into his palms. “Don’t waste my time.”

“You
are too late, she is lost to you.”

Alain’s
barely controlled rage pools in his belly like magma. “You don’t know that. You
cannot look into the future.”

The
angel’s head tilts, its crystal eyes blink once, slowly like an owl’s.
“I
see the present, the now, and I tell you her life can be counted in minutes.”

He
doesn’t doubt the angel. “Then help her!”

“It
is forbidden.”

“By
a deity who condemned you to eternal torment in this place!” Alain cries.

“You
rebuke me for not aiding her when you know the penalty. What of you? I do not
see you leaping to her rescue. How far will you go for the mortal? How much
does she mean to you?”

“Do
not tempt me!” Alain roars.

“Then
do not look upon me with scorn.”

The
angel unfurls its wings and lifts skyward. Alain doesn’t watch it leave, his
gaze is on the ground as the angel’s words echo in his mind and blight his
soul.

How
much does she mean to you?

He
can’t get to Rain fast enough in this body. Alain lifts his head, looks up at
the sky and laughs hollowly. “You bastard.”

He
closes his eyes and faces parade through his mind. The women who left him. It
was another age, another manifestation, long before he descended Downside. He
took such care of them, but he cannot cure disease or stave off the death which
comes at the end of a long life.

He
couldn’t save them, but he can save Rain.

Entering
an alley, he sees only Rain’s face and knows there is no choice. He has never disobeyed
the edict; perhaps this small transgression will go unnoticed.

Hiding
in shadows, Alain strips and drops his clothes on the ground. He has not tasted
true freedom in an age and anticipation roars up his spine. Before it is too
late, he concentrates on Rain and makes her his purpose. He still knows himself
as chaos engulfs him, but fades into the background and allows the beast full
reign. It knows what to do.