and looked forward to a pleasant afternoon.
There was nothing to be done while Tuan checked into the
theft of the manuscript with his dubious resources, anyway.
After a brief walk, they entered a small incense-scented store.
Resigned, Adin stopped worrying and leaned over a brightly lit
glass case, looking at the tiny figurines there.
76 Z.A. Maxfield
“I was right, wasn’t I?” Edward asked from the other side,
looking through the case at him. “You’re boggled?”
“I wouldn’t say boggled, exactly,” said Adin, checking out a
particularly interesting piece in which two tiny Chinese
characters with queues held a third, suspended over a wide
piece of fabric, while he was being entered from behind by a
fourth. “Kind of puts a new spin on rock your world,”
murmured Adin, biting his lip.
“Aren’t they fun?” asked Edward. “When Tuan turned
thirty, I put them all over his cake.” He smiled. “I think they’re
cute. What I would really like to see is somebody who could
make them like wind-up toys. How fun would that be?”
Adin rose from his exploration of the case and indicated to
the shop owner that he wanted to buy. “I’d like to see this one
wound up. I’m trying to get the visual…”
Edward’s eyebrows disappeared behind the fringe of his
hair. “It’s probably best if you don’t.”
Adin grinned. “Says the man who jacked off in my limo.”
The sales clerk wrapped their purchases carefully, giving
each of them a small silk bag, and bowed them out. It was
about three in the afternoon when they left the store, and Adin
suggested they find somewhere to eat. They were walking down
Sutter, discussing the merits of one type of Chinese food over
another, when Adin felt the blood in his veins begin to speak to
him. Adin stopped walking and listened.
“What is it?” Edward asked him.
Adin looked around carefully. “I don’t know.” Adin had
experienced this sensation before and associated it with Donte,
but this felt different somehow. He saw nothing, even when he
turned again. “It’s nothing.”
“You look pale. Are you feeling all right?” asked Edward,
real concern on his face.
“I’m fine. Maybe I’m just not used to…” Adin heard the
voices then, in Spanish. Words he barely understood hissed
throughout his body, just under his skin. He looked across the
street and saw a man standing in the shadows of the alley
NOTTURNO 77
between two shops, where a delivery truck sat waiting for men
to offload crates of vegetables. The man was tall, with light skin
and ebony-colored hair, worn long, past his shoulders. He had
on supple dark dress trousers and a gray sweater, over which he
wore a black leather trench coat.
The man stood motionless and stared at Adin, his hands
tucked casually in his pockets. Not Donte, but like Donte. The shock registered, and he barely had time to put a hand out to
the wall beside him before his knees buckled and he fell to the
ground.
Dimly, he was aware of Edward shouting his name, then
nothing.
When Adin regained consciousness, he was in the limousine,
which was parked illegally on Sutter, under the watchful eyes of
both Boaz and Edward. He felt like an idiot.
“And you…and you…and you were there,” he quipped.
“And I only knew I wanted to go home…”
“Shut up,” said Edward, testily. “It’s not funny. You scared
the hell out of me.” He got out his phone and dialed a number,
presumably Tuan’s, and got out of the limo to talk privately.
“Dr. Tredeger?” asked Boaz. “You okay, sir?” He spoke
quietly, concern etched on his face.
“Fine,” said Adin brusquely. “I’m fine. I guess I’m going to
have to see about my blood sugar. That’s twice I’ve felt faint in
the last week.” He straightened his sweater, which had bunched
around him, he guessed, when they’d loaded him in the limo.
He sat up carefully, exploring how he felt. He remembered the
buzzing sensation
There was nothing to be done while Tuan checked into the
theft of the manuscript with his dubious resources, anyway.
After a brief walk, they entered a small incense-scented store.
Resigned, Adin stopped worrying and leaned over a brightly lit
glass case, looking at the tiny figurines there.
76 Z.A. Maxfield
“I was right, wasn’t I?” Edward asked from the other side,
looking through the case at him. “You’re boggled?”
“I wouldn’t say boggled, exactly,” said Adin, checking out a
particularly interesting piece in which two tiny Chinese
characters with queues held a third, suspended over a wide
piece of fabric, while he was being entered from behind by a
fourth. “Kind of puts a new spin on rock your world,”
murmured Adin, biting his lip.
“Aren’t they fun?” asked Edward. “When Tuan turned
thirty, I put them all over his cake.” He smiled. “I think they’re
cute. What I would really like to see is somebody who could
make them like wind-up toys. How fun would that be?”
Adin rose from his exploration of the case and indicated to
the shop owner that he wanted to buy. “I’d like to see this one
wound up. I’m trying to get the visual…”
Edward’s eyebrows disappeared behind the fringe of his
hair. “It’s probably best if you don’t.”
Adin grinned. “Says the man who jacked off in my limo.”
The sales clerk wrapped their purchases carefully, giving
each of them a small silk bag, and bowed them out. It was
about three in the afternoon when they left the store, and Adin
suggested they find somewhere to eat. They were walking down
Sutter, discussing the merits of one type of Chinese food over
another, when Adin felt the blood in his veins begin to speak to
him. Adin stopped walking and listened.
“What is it?” Edward asked him.
Adin looked around carefully. “I don’t know.” Adin had
experienced this sensation before and associated it with Donte,
but this felt different somehow. He saw nothing, even when he
turned again. “It’s nothing.”
“You look pale. Are you feeling all right?” asked Edward,
real concern on his face.
“I’m fine. Maybe I’m just not used to…” Adin heard the
voices then, in Spanish. Words he barely understood hissed
throughout his body, just under his skin. He looked across the
street and saw a man standing in the shadows of the alley
NOTTURNO 77
between two shops, where a delivery truck sat waiting for men
to offload crates of vegetables. The man was tall, with light skin
and ebony-colored hair, worn long, past his shoulders. He had
on supple dark dress trousers and a gray sweater, over which he
wore a black leather trench coat.
The man stood motionless and stared at Adin, his hands
tucked casually in his pockets. Not Donte, but like Donte. The shock registered, and he barely had time to put a hand out to
the wall beside him before his knees buckled and he fell to the
ground.
Dimly, he was aware of Edward shouting his name, then
nothing.
When Adin regained consciousness, he was in the limousine,
which was parked illegally on Sutter, under the watchful eyes of
both Boaz and Edward. He felt like an idiot.
“And you…and you…and you were there,” he quipped.
“And I only knew I wanted to go home…”
“Shut up,” said Edward, testily. “It’s not funny. You scared
the hell out of me.” He got out his phone and dialed a number,
presumably Tuan’s, and got out of the limo to talk privately.
“Dr. Tredeger?” asked Boaz. “You okay, sir?” He spoke
quietly, concern etched on his face.
“Fine,” said Adin brusquely. “I’m fine. I guess I’m going to
have to see about my blood sugar. That’s twice I’ve felt faint in
the last week.” He straightened his sweater, which had bunched
around him, he guessed, when they’d loaded him in the limo.
He sat up carefully, exploring how he felt. He remembered the
buzzing sensation
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