with such longing it took his breath away.
Was it some new trick? Donte had used fear against him before, he’d made Adin feel as though he were the only safe haven in a world gone crazy. It was part of his magic—his glamour. But Donte was not there, and in his heart, Adin knew it.
This was something entirely new. Someone entirely different.
This was the devil Adin didn’t know.
Boaz dropped Adin off at the Kabuki, where he retreated immediately into his room. He showered quickly and slipped into the luxurious robe, which was large enough to drown him in its silk and terry opulence. He poured a Bushmills and looked out the window at the street below.
The week before, even the day before, this city seemed as familiar to him as an old pair of running shoes. Warm, recognizable and broken in to the shape of his foot, molded for his comfort. Now it was as if those same comfortable shoes had taken off running down the street by themselves.
What was out there in this city, arguably his hometown, that he never knew existed? How ignorant did he yet remain? Was there more lurking unnoticed in the alleys and side streets than vampires?
As Adin watched the street below, a man came around the corner. He was wearing a dark suit. He walked at a brisk pace, like a million other businessmen in the city at twilight. But when he was exactly across the street from Adin he stopped, looked up directly at Adin’s window, and smiled.
With shaking hands, Adin shut the shoji screens. It wasn’t the same man, but as he had with the others, Adin sensed the threat. The man from the liquor store, the man from Chinatown, and the man outside only moments before gave him some indefinable chill.
Like Donte.
Adin sat quietly on the velvet chaise longue, neither noticing nor caring that the light was fading, until he was left in almost-complete darkness.
A knock concussed the silence. Adin tied his robe tighter around him and answered it. Boaz stood there, a brown paper shopping bag in one hand and a bottle in the other.
“Dinner, sir—” he smiled “—compliments of your friend Edward.”
“Thank you.” Adin waved Boaz inside. “Come in, unless you have something else to do. You could join me.”
“Thank you, sir, that’s very kind of you.” Boaz placed the food on the low glass cocktail table. “But I’m afraid I can’t. You did say you wouldn’t require me this evening, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I’m not going out.”
“Very good, then. I’ll open the wine for you, if you like.” Boaz pulled a Swiss Army knife out of his jacket pocket.
“Thank you,” said Adin. “This is really the royal treatment.”
Boaz remained distantly polite. “I find having a wine opener useful, as no one can fly with one anymore.”
“I see. That’s good thinking.”
“I believe you’ll find I’m rather useful in lots of ways.” Boaz gave him an enigmatic smile and then started pulling out the food Edward sent. “Edward believed you might enjoy some seafood.”
“Did he?” Adin lifted the Styrofoam lid to uncover some sort of fish with a citrus glaze and vegetables. “Oh, yeah. He might have been right.”
“And sir?” Boaz frowned as he was about to open the door to leave. “Don’t hesitate to call me, even if…”
“Even if what?”
“Even if a request sounds crazy.”
Adin didn’t answer for a long time. He wondered what Boaz would say about the dark turn his life had taken.
“All right, I will.” He dismissed Boaz, and the frightening thought, for the night. “I’ll call if I need you.”
“Very good, sir.”
After Boaz left, Adin decided his formality must be as much a tease as it was the professional demeanor he presented to the world. Edward was right: Adin liked having a Boaz.
Much later that night, Adin tossed warmly in the extravagant bedding, listening to the music in his blood. This wasn’t Donte’s song; it didn’t speak to him of sun-warmed earth and sex. Of skin that smelled like herbs.
Was it some new trick? Donte had used fear against him before, he’d made Adin feel as though he were the only safe haven in a world gone crazy. It was part of his magic—his glamour. But Donte was not there, and in his heart, Adin knew it.
This was something entirely new. Someone entirely different.
This was the devil Adin didn’t know.
Boaz dropped Adin off at the Kabuki, where he retreated immediately into his room. He showered quickly and slipped into the luxurious robe, which was large enough to drown him in its silk and terry opulence. He poured a Bushmills and looked out the window at the street below.
The week before, even the day before, this city seemed as familiar to him as an old pair of running shoes. Warm, recognizable and broken in to the shape of his foot, molded for his comfort. Now it was as if those same comfortable shoes had taken off running down the street by themselves.
What was out there in this city, arguably his hometown, that he never knew existed? How ignorant did he yet remain? Was there more lurking unnoticed in the alleys and side streets than vampires?
As Adin watched the street below, a man came around the corner. He was wearing a dark suit. He walked at a brisk pace, like a million other businessmen in the city at twilight. But when he was exactly across the street from Adin he stopped, looked up directly at Adin’s window, and smiled.
With shaking hands, Adin shut the shoji screens. It wasn’t the same man, but as he had with the others, Adin sensed the threat. The man from the liquor store, the man from Chinatown, and the man outside only moments before gave him some indefinable chill.
Like Donte.
Adin sat quietly on the velvet chaise longue, neither noticing nor caring that the light was fading, until he was left in almost-complete darkness.
A knock concussed the silence. Adin tied his robe tighter around him and answered it. Boaz stood there, a brown paper shopping bag in one hand and a bottle in the other.
“Dinner, sir—” he smiled “—compliments of your friend Edward.”
“Thank you.” Adin waved Boaz inside. “Come in, unless you have something else to do. You could join me.”
“Thank you, sir, that’s very kind of you.” Boaz placed the food on the low glass cocktail table. “But I’m afraid I can’t. You did say you wouldn’t require me this evening, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I’m not going out.”
“Very good, then. I’ll open the wine for you, if you like.” Boaz pulled a Swiss Army knife out of his jacket pocket.
“Thank you,” said Adin. “This is really the royal treatment.”
Boaz remained distantly polite. “I find having a wine opener useful, as no one can fly with one anymore.”
“I see. That’s good thinking.”
“I believe you’ll find I’m rather useful in lots of ways.” Boaz gave him an enigmatic smile and then started pulling out the food Edward sent. “Edward believed you might enjoy some seafood.”
“Did he?” Adin lifted the Styrofoam lid to uncover some sort of fish with a citrus glaze and vegetables. “Oh, yeah. He might have been right.”
“And sir?” Boaz frowned as he was about to open the door to leave. “Don’t hesitate to call me, even if…”
“Even if what?”
“Even if a request sounds crazy.”
Adin didn’t answer for a long time. He wondered what Boaz would say about the dark turn his life had taken.
“All right, I will.” He dismissed Boaz, and the frightening thought, for the night. “I’ll call if I need you.”
“Very good, sir.”
After Boaz left, Adin decided his formality must be as much a tease as it was the professional demeanor he presented to the world. Edward was right: Adin liked having a Boaz.
Much later that night, Adin tossed warmly in the extravagant bedding, listening to the music in his blood. This wasn’t Donte’s song; it didn’t speak to him of sun-warmed earth and sex. Of skin that smelled like herbs.
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