Bloodshot - Cherie Priest [99]
To soothe him, I said, “If you just swing down here and meet me, then we can sort all this out and have you on your way back to Toronto in a week or less. No problem.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” I fibbed. But he was hard to fib to, so I amended my certainty to include, “Barring unforeseen catastrophe. And anyway, Adrian wants to meet you.” Perhaps I exaggerated.
“He … he does? He’s still with you?”
“Yeah, he’s still with me. He’s coming to D.C. on the off chance I turn up something thrilling about Major Bruner and his connection to the project, and unless I miss my guess”—I didn’t bother to lower my voice; Adrian was watching TV in the other room and either he’d hear me, or he wouldn’t—“he’s plotting a little street vengeance.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. Wait’ll you meet him. He’s a former Navy SEAL who’s on the warpath.”
“I thought you said he was a drag queen?”
“That too. He’s a man of many mysteries.” Again I remembered that silver spangle outfit and the tuck-job. “And maybe I’m wrong, but I bet I’m not. More to the point, however, he wants to talk to you about his sister. She was in the program with you.”
“She was?”
“You knew you weren’t alone,” I said, trying to avoid the roundabout talk that he resorted to every time the subject of his imprisonment came up. “You’ve already told me that much. Well, she was one of the others.”
“One like us?” he asked. It felt like his umpteenth question in a row. I heard fuzz and noise in the background. I assumed he was outdoors somewhere, and being careful with his language.
“Yes. A vampire. And I have no idea if you knew her or not, or if you ever spoke to her or not, but this guy is grieving for his sister and desperate for any scrap of information. If you don’t want to talk to him, that’s fine. But you can tell him so to his face.”
My phone began to beep, and I glanced at the face. “Hey, Ian, I’ve got to go. Getting another call.” We’d already exchanged all our connection information anyway; we’d picked a hotel and a date, and we’d talk again when we both got into D.C.
“Very well. See you soon.”
I hung up on him and pressed the button to accept the other call. The number looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it right away. The voice on the other end of the phone brought it all back in an instant.
“Raylene?” Soft. Whispered. I didn’t like the whisper. I’d never heard him whisper before.
“Domino. Glad you got the phone. Is everything okay?”
I could hear him breathing softly into the receiver, and I couldn’t hear his sister, which didn’t necessarily mean anything. But his further silence probably did. He didn’t say anything for another five seconds. “No.”
I asked, “What’s going on?”
The urgency in my voice snared Adrian’s attention. He manifested in the doorway wearing a questioning look and a fresh smearing of my best avocado face mask. I waved him away. I wasn’t prepared to explain, and I had a feeling I was about to have a full-body freak-out. My waving and dodging did not prevent him from following me, though. All I could do was turn my back on him as I said into the phone, “Domino, you little shit, you tell me what’s going on right this second!”
“Shh!” he hissed.
I’m not ordinarily the kind to be shushed by anyone, much less that prepubescent cretin, but this was different, I could tell. And after a few more moments of silence, I realized he was holding up the phone and trying to let me hear something.
The television was still on in the other room. I snapped at Adrian, “Go turn that off. Now!” And the command was passed down to someone else who doesn’t ordinarily obey random commands, but Adrian did it, and he did it swiftly.
I turned my back to the living room and jammed my eyes shut, as if that could make it even quieter in my condo. I strained to hear any scrap of static and I prayed that Domino wasn’t pulling some crazy stunt. Because if he was, I’d have to beat him to death the next time I saw him. And that would be sad for his sister.
Pepper. I said her name aloud and then I breathed into the phone, “Where’s your sister, Domino?