Evolution (17 page)

My watch ticked past 2:00 a.m. Had I been watching him so long already?

I slid the window open and peered into the darkness, breeze cooling and energizing on my face. A wash of moonlight decorated the room, making his skin look pale, perfect, and beautiful. Boys shouldn’t look beautiful, but he did. The almond eyes, long black lashes, and thick lips were the stuff women dreamed of. His blond hair made him look exotic rather than Asian. He reacted violently whenever someone brought up his heritage. His flinch gave me an itch to pulverize someone since he’d obviously been hurt before.

I was far too attached.

A flutter of a bird outside the window yanked my attention away from him and slammed me into the here and now. A crow glared into the room from the ledge outside. Normally, animals avoided my kind. Even the scavengers wouldn’t pick our flesh. They probably tasted the monster inside, smelled it from miles away.

The bird cawed at me. Gene twitched on the bed but didn’t wake. The bird took off, wings stretching a large span as it flew toward the distant trees, where a dark figure stepped free of the shadows.

It all made sense now: the cold. Genesis’s fear, and his illness. The window had been open that night. I’d simply attributed that to Gene, but the moonlight pooling into the room highlighted the scratches on the floor. Claw marks. Probably from a bird much like the one that had just flown to its master.

The minions of demons didn’t need an invite. Especially this one. I should have realized sooner what he wanted. The gentle sound of the breathing I had paced my own to reminded me of what could be stolen. Not this time, damn it.

Across the street, just at the edge of the trees, he raised a hand in salute, calling me out. It was all right. I’d wanted this since I smelled him earlier this evening. Of course if he wanted a fight, I’d be happy to oblige.

I shrugged into my duster, lit a cigarette, and headed down to meet my rival. This piper had a hell of an IOU for him too.

Genesis

T
HE
sound of voices called me out of the blooming graveyard and back to reality. KC’s warmth missing from the bed was the first thing I noticed. My eyes popped open when cold air brought goose bumps on my skin. Crap. At least these shadows were people-shaped. They all stood near the window, moonlight flowing right through them like some low-budget B movie.

I rolled to the edge of the bed and glared at the several visitors. “I don’t know if you guys get it, but you’re all dead. You should move on to wherever you need to go.”

They all moved as one, turning their heads from staring out the window to look at me. I blinked at them, but they didn’t move at all. They were obviously very dead, looking a lot like something had gnawed on them for a while. One girl moved her lips, and then a moment later I heard, “You see?”

“Yes. I think we’ve established that already. I see you. I’d like not to. So go away, please.”

“Like me.”

Did I like it? “Uh, sure. You’re great. Can you go now?”

“Help you.”

“With what?” Two could play this two-word game.

“
Kill him,
” they all said at once in a painfully harsh whisper that could have given nails on chalkboards a run for worst sound.

“Who? Kerstrande? No way. Touch him and I’ll send you to whatever nasty ever-after has yet to take you.” They moved toward me in a rush, the stuff of horror movies. I shut my eyes and waited for their contact, but it never came. They vanished. Instead, the apartment door opened and then slammed shut. At first I thought Kerstrande had heard me and gotten angry, but he didn’t seem to notice I was there.

A few seconds later, he entered the bathroom and flicked on the light. The bright vanity bulbs stung my eyes, but I followed him anyway, afraid to ask where he’d gone. When I caught the door and shoved my way inside, only to see his back covered in bloody scratches; every normal, kind thought in my head vanished. I wanted to kill someone and bathe in their blood for hurting him.

“What the hell happened?”

He collapsed to his knees on the thick rug. Blood matted his tattered shirt and pants. The duster he usually wore had four long gashes that shredded it beyond repair. Blood dripped strongly enough to hit the floor with a “plink” that made it hard for me to breathe. I fell beside him, towel in hand, trying to stop the flow.

“Should I call an ambulance? There’s so much blood.” He hadn’t looked this bad the night I hit him with my car. My heart raced while my eyes could only see the candy-apple-red of his life leaking from him.

A glance at his face stopped my fingers just a penny’s width from his skin. The dark mist of shadowy things crawled around his features in that beautiful array of colored madness. He looked hollow, starved, and terrifying. Yet his eyes were locked on my shoulder, where the oversized T-shirt I wore to bed had bared my neck to him.

Those colorful critters warned me each time. I’d slept for days, got sicker and sicker. The last time we’d had sex he’d been like this, without the shadows, but distant and hungry. I’d never felt as torn as I did right then. My body reacted with desire of the memory begging for his touch, but my brain flashed in neon signs that something had gone wrong last time and was about to go wrong again. Fuzziness rolled over me like a semitruck plowing down the freeway.

He shoved me against the washbasin and kissed me hard. The metallic taste of blood flavored his lips. The warm slickness of his blood made it hard to hold onto him, but I clung for dear life. Then he yanked himself away. The growl that passed his lips, not even remotely human, sounded like, “Go to bed.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“Do as I say for once, damn you. Be normal.”

I backed away, heart thudding hard enough to hurt. Maybe I was having a heart attack instead of the constant heartbreak. Finally, I reached the doorway and had the choice of facing a room filled with ghosts or the shadows on his face. I would have given anything to stay with him.

“Close the door.”

“Please talk to me, KC. Please….” I knelt there, just outside the doorway, wanting to touch him, anything but to be pushed away again.

“Close. The. Door.”

I swung the door shut, feeling it slam on the weight that bound us together. The fuzziness vanished, but the need to be near him didn’t. Why wouldn’t he let me help? What was he afraid of? He had obviously wanted to bite me. I guess I was okay with that as long as he stayed with me, talked to me, and gave me a reason to be a part of his life.

After retrieving a blanket from the bed, I curled up on the floor beside the door and watched the room for more ghosts. He’d have to come out eventually. No reason either of us had to be alone until then.

I fell asleep waiting.

Chapter 18

T
HE
doorbell rang at twenty to eight. I was gonna be late for work, but only because Mr. Tokie hadn’t arrived yet. I really needed to talk to KC about having my Honda somewhere closer than the studio. It was a half hour drive just to get to the train.

When I opened the door, I expected it to be my manager, but it was Hane. “Hey, what’s up?” Did he hear confusion in my voice?

His smile was strained. “Seen the paper yet? Or watched the news?”

“No. I overslept. So I haven’t had time for TV, and Kerstrande doesn’t get the paper.” Not to mention how much blood I’d mopped up in the bathroom. The washer had already run twice. The white towels were still pink.

“You ready to go?” He remained in the doorway, darker than usual, hollow. Almost a shade of what Kerstrande looked like last night. “I have some news to deliver. Walk with me?”

“Has something happened to Rob?” I thought of Joel, who still hadn’t returned my calls. “Or Joel?”

“No. This is more Triple Flight related than Evolution.”

I glanced toward the bedroom where KC slept deeply, having stumbled from the bathroom just before dawn. He’d slammed the window shut and fallen into an unmovable heap on the bed. “Should I wake Kerstrande?”

“He already knows. If you’re ready, I’m your ride to work.”

“Okay.” I scooped up my coat and the edited music for “Midnight Rain” and slid into my shoes before hurrying into the hallway.

Hane pulled his hood up, snapping on a pair of large dark sunglasses before stepping outside into the barely lit morning. “Never can be too careful. The press can surprise you anywhere.”

“Right.” I mimicked him by putting on my shades. “So what’s up?” I crawled into his car, an Audi something, and strapped on the seat belt, a habit KC had forced on me.

Hane revved the engine and took off like a bullet down the street, up the ramp, and onto the highway. Due to the heavily tinted windows, the car interior was bathed in darkness. How did he drive this thing at night?

“There is going to be a lot of press around today.”

Okay. I waited. There had to be more.

“Michael Shuon was attacked last night. The police are asking questions.”

Attacked? Like mugged? Who would mug Michael Shuon? That was like robbing the Beatles. How bad was he hurt? Sure the guy scared me, but KC seemed to care a lot for him. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“He’s dead, kid. Can’t get more okay than that, I guess. Preservation Group is taking the credit for his death. They claim he was a vampire.”

My mind spun from his sudden words. In fact, it hurt to breathe. Not my pain, but for KC. I wanted to go home. “Can you take me home, please?”

“Sorry, kid. Kerstrande needs some time to digest this. It’s better if you stay away for a bit.”

But he was my boyfriend. Crap, that sounded so high school. I just wanted to be sure he was okay. The wounds, the blood—had he done those things to himself when he found out? My eyes blurred, and I had to fight myself from begging Hane to take me home.

“A tribute will be held tonight in Michael’s honor. Evolution will be playing.”

“What?” How could they expect us to play now?

“Covers of ‘Red Rose’
,
‘Spin Crash’
,
and ‘Roller’.”

“But Joel’s sick.” And those songs weren’t written for me. Funny how KC’s words came back to torment me.

Hane shrugged. “I guess if you’re really against it we could cancel and disappoint all those grieving fans. Millions will be tuning in on TV worldwide to mourn.”

Crap.

“I’ll be backing you up on the board. Rob on guitar as always.”

Something was so wrong with everything. My brain circled in dizzying thoughts. “How could something like this happen?”

“Don’t know, kid. He was left in pieces.”

PG, Preservation Group, the people who torched vampires and witches for fun. How had they known? Sure, Michael did some odd things and had been scary at times, but what made him a vampire? Even worse, did they suspect KC? My stomach churned. Thankfully, the studio emerged before us. We parked and Rob appeared beside the car, security towering around him. Endless flashes from cameras greeted us, but we ignored them and made our way inside.

Hane left us in the Green room. Mr. Tokie only appeared to hand us a stack of Triple Flight songs to practice. I kept checking on Kerstrande, calling every half an hour or so. He never picked up, so I left voice mails.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Rob was telling me for the hundredth time.

“I agree.”

“I mean, pulling off some sort of publicity stunt just because someone died? How low is that?”

“Low,” I replied, which was likely why Hane hadn’t used the publicity angle with me.

“It’s like telling them to think of you as the next Michael Shuon.” He paused and glanced back at me like he’d just heard me for the first time since we arrived. “Huh?”

“I agree. It’s terrible. I don’t wanna do it either.” Any of it. Since when had wanting to sing come to this?

“Then why are we?”

’Cause we had the contract he and Joel had dreamt of. ’Cause people had a right to grieve and hear those songs one last time. ’Cause I’d do the right thing no matter how much I didn’t want to. “He’s gone. Forever gone. That’s important to a lot more people than us.”

Rob hugged me. He seemed to be trying not to cry. I hugged him back, not sure how to comfort something that I didn’t understand. “I just keep thinking, what if it had been you?” His grip tightened.

“Then I’d move on to whatever the next life has for me. Hopefully a few would remember me and miss me a little, but I’d want them to be happy either way.”

He finally let go, mopping at his face with his sleeve. “You say such grown-up things sometimes.”

I raised a brow at him, daring him to continue that thought. He didn’t.

“So you’re okay with this?”

“No, but I can do it. Being okay is not necessary. I’m a professional.” No matter what anyone else thought, the music came first.

Rob and I headed to the practice room. Hane met us, we practiced awhile, then we were all escorted to the arena. TV cameras and reporters lined the halls, all saying the same things, just out of sync enough to make the buzz sound like multiple stereos going at once. Thankfully security kept our area free. This would be a million times bigger than our debut at Hard Light.