The One We Feed (31 page)

Chapter
24

Sirens

I hovered at the edge of the
cavern, leaning tensely against the carved arch behind the DJ booth. Across the
chamber, the others were sitting in a collection of armchairs near the bar. Devlin
beckoned me with a nod. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I knew this was the
right choice, the
only
choice.

As I came
near, the other vamps peeled themselves off their walls, columns, and shadows
and slithered out of the huge room into other caverns. I snagged a few of their
hungry glances as they glided by and caught more than a few mental whispers
that upheld my name as a title. I tried to ignore them, kept my face as stoic
as possible. Better that they not know how unenlightened enlightenment really
was, otherwise they might stop looking for it.

Devlin
disconnected himself from Ananda’s care and got to his feet. The transformation
was instantaneous, his eyes devolving from a man’s to a lizard’s right in front
of me. Unnerved, I reconsidered what I was about to do, for about two seconds.

No matter what
it would feel like, it was absolutely necessary.

He blinked at
me knowingly and stretched an emotionless sneer across his face.

Asshole
, I thought.

Our guest was
sitting with her back to me, but I could already tell she was not what I had
pictured. Bleach-blonde and black-patched hair stuck out at odd angles. Fur-lined
black stiletto boots pointed their toes at the coffee table and kicked
impatiently. A hand with long, plastic nails painted bright red toyed with a
cheap string of glass beads.

If she’s
wearing a Grateful Dead t-shirt, I’m leaving.

Devlin read my
expression in a sardonic blink. He swept his arm over her. “Lilith, may I
introduce you to Cleo, the last remaining Siren not within Mara’s control.”

The blonde
turned and looked over her shoulder at me. Dark cat’s-eye makeup and false
eyelashes stared up. Bold, red lips snapped bubblegum at me as if to say, “What
the fuck are you supposed to be?”

I came around
the seating area to the only open chair and stood beside it, examining her with
all my sundry abilities while she chewed her gum noisily. Jinx rolled his eyes
and gave me a dubious look that shook off his face within a few seconds. His
fingers twitched, his legs jiggled. He vibrated in the silence until I could
almost hear his scattered thoughts resonating. A tray sat in front of him
stacked with a tiny, unfinished pyramid of espresso cups.

“Lily, say
something.”

I raised an
eyebrow. She looked rough, young, but that was just a disguise. She was strong
and smart enough to know that if she spoke, the power would leech into the
simplest of phrases and casual words would be taken literally. Despite her
absurd makeup, her eyes betrayed a deep, churning mind that looked back at me
in something akin to recognition.

I tilted my
head. “She’s perfect.”

Jinx sighed
like a tea kettle coming to a boil. “Craptastic, now can we get this shit-ball
rolling, please, before I, like, go into convulsions or something?”

The Siren eyed
him.

He picked up
another shot glass, emptied it, and, only by virtue of his preternatural
control, managed to stack it atop the others. “Yeah, fuck you too, Madonna.”

“Now Jinx, don’t
be rude,” Devlin said.

“Blow it out
your ass, Tepes,” he shot back. “I know she’s jack to you, but she’s my friend.”

I couldn’t
help it. Even with the severity of what was about to happen, even though it had
taken a full day to compose myself, I grinned.

“I can take
care of myself, twerp.”

He was about
to bite back, until he saw the emotion in my face. Instead, he sank into the
chair and looked sheepish. “
Tout ce qui vous plaira,
Lily.”

“Thank you.” I
turned to Devlin and took a deep breath. “Have you explained it to her? Can she
set a trigger?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure
you wanna stick with that one?” the hacker said with a fake gag. “I mean, I
know it’s the one thing you can be positive will happen, but...Great Green
Arkleseizure!”

I managed a
shaky nod. “It’s important. Arthur said something….”

“Yeah, and
whenever he bothers to, you might as well listen,” Jinx grumbled.

“Let’s get
this over with.”

Devlin’s lip
curled, exposing his canines. He buried himself behind the bar, almost in an
effort to hide it. By that time in his existence, it was probably impossible
for him to
not
smile at other people’s misfortunes. He came away from
the liquor cabinets with a lovely crystal pinot glass and something of a leer.

“You’re
enjoying this.”

“A little, I
must admit.”

Jinx shivered
up the nerve to get to his feet. “I can’t watch this. Fuck. It’s just wrong...and
gross. Fuck fuck fuck!” He fluffed his spikes, spun in a nervous circle, and
then stomped to the back chamber with a mumbled, “I’m fucking sorry.”

As the three
of us watched, Devlin took out a butterfly knife, opened it, and, with
flourish, slit his own wrist. The glass filled quickly, the red fluid lapping
at the edges as he slid it toward me with a gratified smile and no trace of
injury.

He tapped the
glass and closed the knife. “I’m filled with an overwhelming appreciation for
irony, at the present.”

Ananda stood,
and instantly Devlin’s face sobered.

“Lilith, I
cannot see past this.”

I tried to
seem as if it was no big deal to face uncertainty alone and powerless, but I
should have known better. The Arhat walked over to me and took my hands. I
could feel the soothing magic but refused it. Ananda’s eyes closed and his head
bowed.

“Is it his
fault,” I said of Devlin, “or is it something else entirely?”

He squeezed me
closer. “Something else.”

I nodded. The
pit of my stomach got a bit deeper. “Any advice?”

“Be yourself.”

I wrapped my
arms around him and pulled him close. “Good advice.”

I felt him
nod, then the rush of cool air as he drew back and walked away. Devlin tracked
him anxiously through the cavern, his eyes affixed to the tunnel even after
Ananda had disappeared into it.

“He’s not
angry. This is my fight,” I explained, “not theirs.” I picked up the glass and
swirled the contents. It looked like thick, brackish tomato soup.

Devlin had
begun to smile again. “Your first time, I understand,” he commented drily. “Then
if anyone’s, it should be mine. Fitting, really.”

The air around
the glass filled with coppery perfume. I almost gagged. He smirked and I
momentarily lost my nerve. Lowering the glass, I caught his eye.

“Can I trust
you?”

He crossed his
arms. “I’m offended at the insinuation.”

“If you don’t
follow through, I
will
find you.”

His smile
grew. “Yes, yes, and make my life hell. I know. Really, I’m not sure there is
much left for you to accomplish in that regard.”

I held his
gaze. “I can fix you. I almost think that would be enough. It certainly worked
for Karl.”

To my
surprise, the malicious twist of lip vanished into a detached glare. “I’m not
Karl and I don’t scare easily. Threats are a waste of time.”

“What would
you be without this?”

“Retired.”

I sat down
beside him, mute. When the silence stretched, I reached out and took hold of
his wrist with all my strength. He attempted to pull away, but there was no way
I was letting go. Instead, I stared him down.

He wanted
peace, but we both knew it, too, had consequences. If I cured him, he’d be left
to think with a clear and vulnerable mind about all he had done. I worked the
peaceful spell on him, but with a twist, and rather than fall into an easy
stupor, he frowned at my fingers in anxiety. I waited until he looked as if he
might vomit, and then I let go.

“It doesn’t
feel the same,” he gasped.

Of course not.
Ananda was compassion incarnate, filled with nothing but a desire for all the
world to coexist. I, on the other hand, was the one who had to
make
that
happen and it could not happen if everyone continued to believe that everyone
else was wrong. My peace was filled with reckoning.

Fearless, ceaseless,
ruthless.

“What
does
it feel like?” I breathed, my eyes narrowing. “Does it feel familiar? Isn’t it
what you said the world needed?”

He shook his
head vaguely. His guard was down, and, in the uncontrolled recesses of his
face, I saw the self-loathing.

“I know who
you see, when you look at Mara.”

His gaze
lifted like the flurried stirring of a murder of crows. He sat bolt upright,
one breath away from a sob. A leader of men for centuries, planning and
plotting and scheming, but deep down, he was still human. I knew exactly what
he was feeling. I did not relish the thought of confronting my sister’s ghost
either, but the world was not a fair place.

“It’s a lot to
ask. I won’t be angry if you say it’s too much.”

“If you can do
it, so can I,” he said quietly. His gift allowed him to see things in sharp
detail unencumbered by emotion, and for that I was grateful. Just as threats
were not necessary between us, neither was bravado.

“I’m not sure
I can, but with you on my side, I’ll feel stronger.”

I took his
hand again. It was cool and almost artificial feeling, but I laced our fingers
together and squeezed. The gesture caught him unawares. He looked into my eyes
and I knew we understood each other.

“Just because
life isn’t sacred, doesn’t mean it can’t be. You’ll see,” I whispered. I leaned
in and kissed his cheek. It was as cold as his hand. “So can I trust you?”

He smiled, and
it was sincere. “I have always been trustworthy.”

“Take care of
them.”

“I will.”

I picked the
glass up again and swallowed my gorge. It had all come to this moment, every
word, a message sent through time. From Kali Ma to the snake, they weren’t just
stories. They were the tea leaves of my destiny.

The Siren was
staring at me intently. I tilted the glass toward her.

“To your health,”
I toasted and, as quickly as possible, tipped the contents down my throat.

The blood slid
down like a fat slug, heavy and strange tasting. My stomach clamped down on it
almost painfully as heat spread through me, flared, and then was gone. For a moment,
I was disoriented. The world was spinning. I felt Devlin reach out and steady
me as I planted my hands on the tabletop and coughed.

I opened my
eyes to find that the room had changed, or, rather, I had. My veins ran with
ice water, my lungs breathed in the dank chill of the cave. The dark seemed
transparent suddenly, and the echoes I saw whenever I was not careful seemed
almost boring. Even the Siren, leaning forward curiously, eyes like starving
Venus fly traps, seemed duller, less interesting, a list of things I could
calculate. It was as if my entire personality had been sterilized.

“I’m sorry,”
Devlin whispered in my ear.

I couldn’t
answer. My body was fighting to come to terms with the sudden firmament of my
metaphorical spinal column. Horrible possibilities became calculated risks,
enemies just allies waiting to be manipulated, and monsters, an army in chains.

I leaned back
and looked up at the stalactites. They had seemed like the jagged teeth of some
huge beast’s maw before, but now they were just mineral deposits. The world had
faded and for the first time, I
believed
I was impervious to whatever it
would throw at me.

“Seeing how
you see now.” Devlin let go of me and stood. “Do you still think the plan will
work?”

I stared blankly
into his eyes. The gears of my thoughts shifted, at first grinding slowly, but
soon a whirring symphony of mechanical clicks and measures. Like an equation, I
solved the future and, with an easy smile, nodded.

“Then I’ll
make the call.” He nodded. “Cry havoc, my dear, and let slip the dogs of war.”

As he walked
away, I got my bearings and sat up. The Siren was perched on the edge of her
seat, following my every move like a canary eyeing a cat. I could feel my mouth
twisting involuntarily and watched her squirm in response. I reached up and
pulled on my cheek muscles. At some point, I’d have to eliminate that
particular side effect or my friends would start sharpening wooden stakes and
carrying bottles of water for blessing.

Especially
with the whole red eye thing.

“Relax, Cleo,”
I murmured. “You know what to do. I’m ready.”

Her muscles
unwound, but it was clear she wanted to be finished as quickly as possible.