The Brotherhood - Tezcatli's Game Part 5

"A needle? Ah. Something to do with pus.h.i.+ng your low blood sugar into a life-threatening range, I would wager. Quentin."

Liam looked deeply saddened. "So you were planning to end your life on the night when it should have been beginning anew. I was so afraid, but how can a man know these things? He cannot, not for sure."

He sucked at his cigarette, fingers skating up and down the cylinder as if it were a c.o.c.k. "I would ask why you stopped, but I think I know. Someone found you, did they not? Someone, not me."

Quentin thought, in a flash, of Zach's ghost appearing to him. Beautiful dark skin, warm brown eyes, good humor and gentle scolding. He blinked, and the image changed to Tezcatli in all his arrogance, arms folded across that muscled chest, dewy with sweat. "Someone did," he said, his lips numb. "Do you have another one of those?"

Liam looked at Quentin strangely but, after a bit of wiggling around, withdrew a crumpled pack from his hip pocket and pa.s.sed it over. Quentin hadn't smoked in years, not since his residency days ten years earlier, but it felt so unbelievably familiar and good to take hold of the cigarette and place it between his lips. "Light?" he asked around it.

Liam produced a battered Zippo and flicked the wheel. Quentin dipped toward it and came up breathing in smoke. The tarry air burned his lungs, but the nicotine rushed in like an old friend, flooding him with relief. He took three, maybe four more puffs before he remembered. "Thanks," he muttered. Then, "What?"

The little man was half grinning and half frowning. "I suppose it would be in bad taste for me to say that these things will kill you," he said, raising his own cigarette as if in a toast. Quentin surprised himself by laughing -- genuinely -- and lifting his own. The embers touched.

In the darkness, the fused cherries glowed suddenly brighter than a beacon. Quentin stared, mesmerized. He couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to. Liam moved his cigarette slightly to the left and to the right. He was humming under his breath. The music sounded unbearably old and just as terrifying.

Quentin felt suddenly freezing cold and all alone.

"There are more things on heaven and earth," Liam murmured, "than are dreamt of even in my philosophy. I think the time has come for us to have a talk, Quentin. You have to tell me everything that you think I know, that Simon might know, that no one knows except for you. Tell me what haunts you."

Liam leaned forward. He looked ancient and frightening. Less a man than a wild beast who'd cornered Quentin with the promise of a fleeting buzz. "Talk to me, Quentin.

"Now."

Chapter Six

I shouldn't say a word. No one knows all the details, not even Simon. This belonged to me, only me, for so long.

Zach is mine to keep close to my heart. I don't want to share him with anyone, just like he didn't want to share me. Liam doesn't need to know.

So why am I telling him?

"About two years ago," Quentin began haltingly. "A few states across the way, that's where Zach and I lived, on a working ranch. It was a huge operation in a rural area, so they needed a medic there to take care of minor injuries, things that didn't need a trip to the hospital. And I'd always wanted to be a cowboy."

He laughed, mocking himself. "I knew the whole gay thing would be a problem, so I kept it to myself. But someone found out."

"This Zach you speak of?" Liam prodded. "He was their horse doctor, yes?"

"Horses and cattle. One guy for such a huge spread. He stayed busy from dawn to dusk, every single day. I had stretches where I saw one huge man after another with gouges, sc.r.a.pes and contusions, and I had long, dreary days when no one came in.

Then, one day, Zach stopped by. A raw colt had bitten him on the shoulder. Barely broke the skin, but he knew he'd need shots."

He fiddled with his cigarette, nearly burned down to the filter now. "Can I have another?"

"No. Go on."

Quentin bit his lip in silence for a moment. "I don't want to."

"I know." Liam's face did look sympathetic. He reached out, his slim fingers caressing Quentin's temple. "You must. Here, I will make it easy for you. Close your eyes. Sit in the dark and the quiet, and remember."

"What do you --"

"Let me in," Liam whispered, tracing a pattern on Quentin's skin. "Let me help you."

Quentin couldn't help it. He suddenly felt dizzy, as if he hadn't had the chocolate and glucose after all. He found his mind spiraling down a long flight of nothingness into a deep well. He saw a glimmer of light and flew toward it.

To Zach's face, smiling at him.

And all else was darkness.

Tezcatli slunk down the back staircase of Amour Magique, smoothing the wrinkles in his deep red s.h.i.+rt as he went. Dark red, the color of good wine and hot blood. His favorite. He breathed in deeply, tasting s.e.x on the back of his tongue, then ran it over his lips to pick up the last traces of Quentin. The man whose life he'd saved. Who'd mocked him and run away.

His face tightened into hard, narrow lines. Quentin would pay for what he'd done.

Who is this Quentin, that he thinks he can make a fool out of me? Tezcatli thought indignantly. No one laughs at me and lives. I am Tezcatli. I run, I fight, I f.u.c.k, and I feast. I rule the Cats over all other alphas. King of the world, that's me.

And he's just going to run away, when I am about to claim him? Trust him with all our secrets? Not d.a.m.ned likely. No.

I will find Quentin. It won't be hard. He smells of me, and I learned him well enough. I could track that fragrance through thousands of thousands. The mere hundreds here are no challenge.

I am Tezcatli. I play my game to win.

Quentin will be mine.

Tracing the man proved to be as easy as he'd thought. Quentin's trail led right through a small stand providing weak beer and fruity martinis. A gaggle of elvenkind and their ilk had gathered around it. They laughed and chattered like a group of schoolgirls, their silvery laughter guaranteed to get on one's last nerve and wring it.

Tezcatli scoffed at the fairies drinking their brightly colored beverages. Give him tequila, if he drank anything at all. Maybe a good whiskey or a well-aged wine if he wanted to be pretentious. He'd tried absinthe. Wasn't stupid enough to drink it more than once, but he liked the stuff. Misty green and acrid. The contents of the ancient, stolen bottle had made him see colors in things that had been black and white. His hands had danced through the air as he watched them.

Those were drinks for the man.For the Cat, he wanted clear water, or the blood pumping from a torn artery into his mouth. He had to get out of the city, soon, and return to the country. He had no idea how those of his kind who lived in Charleston proper all the time managed the feat.

Almost no place to run, to hunt; h.e.l.l, it was dangerous enough just to Change.

He'd done it, of course -- no one told him no -- but they'd actually dared to scold him for putting them all at risk. Fools.

What was life without risk?

All the same, he'd be glad to put the metropolis behind him. He only wanted to claim his mate, then he'd head back down toward the borders of Texas and Mexico, where he belonged. Men didn't like him there, but they f.u.c.king well had respect for the Cat. As an elf tried to paw at his sleeve, he knew which of the two he preferred.

Yes, he just needed to claim his mate, and he could be on his way once again.

The scent was especially strong near the bar's exit onto a smoking porch. Tezcatli laid his hand on it and imagined he could feel Quentin's warmth stealing into his palm. Yes, oh, yes. The man had been there, and just recently.

Ran you down to earth, boy. He gave a savage grin and shoved hard at the door's crash bar, flinging it open. Stepping out into the night, he breathed deeply and gazed up at the sky. He knew what kind of impression he'd made. Black and red and deep tan. Yellow lights s.h.i.+ning in his eyes. Body saturated with s.e.x and s.e.m.e.n.

He looked down after a beat, searching for Quentin. Would the man be standing across the way, staring back at him? Could he be on one of the benches that ringed the small patio? Tezcatli frowned, then almost pouted. Quentin was nowhere in sight. It f.u.c.king figures. A grand entrance, and no audience to appreciate it. But if Quentin wasn't there, where was ...

Oh. Tezcatli drew up short as the odors of cigarette smoke and blood simultaneously hit his nose. He turned his head toward a bench in shadows near the doorway and stared. His Catholic upbringing as a Man almost moved him to cross himself. He stopped the gesture just in time. He doubted it would make any difference to what he faced.

Quentin sat swaying, apparently caught in a trance. The incubus, Liam, weaving in time with him, back and forth, snakelike, undulant. And there, standing beside them -- a ghost.

"Madre de Dios," Tezcatli blurted. "f.u.c.k me."

Liam glanced up. "I think not," he said with a small smirk. "You have already had your fun with Quentin tonight, yes? If you want someone, look no further. He has no scratches, but you hooked him deep. Pierced a spot in his heart and let out all the darkness that has been bottled up for so long."

Liam rose. "I know you," he said. "You rule the Cat kind. Even those outside your lycanthropic species. You are a King among the Jellicles."

Tezcatli bared his teeth. "If you compare me to those idiot dancers again, I'll --"

Liam snorted. "You'll what? Kill me? You should know -- Tezcatli, is it? -- that one such as I cannot be struck down. I cannot die. I have been here since before the Garden. I will be here long after you're all dust."

He glanced down and away. "I could have a long and carefree life. f.u.c.k my way from one orgy to the next. But I get involved. This, you might say, is my 'fatal' flaw. I dive into the hearts of men, and I cannot but help them out with what I see there."

He staggered slightly, then righted himself. "Quentin's heart is heavy with grief. You know what he was going to do, I a.s.sume?"

Tezcatli had s.h.i.+fted almost imperceptibly into attack mode. His muscles quivered, on the verge of pouncing and finding out if Liam really was immortal or just talked a good game. "You can't catch me with your tricks."

"Did I try?"

Tezcatli growled. "No. But you'd better not. And take this -- this -- whatever it is off of Quentin. He belongs to me. I don't want you s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with his mind." He barked a humorless laugh. "It's already twisted into knots. The last thing he needs is you."

"No," Liam said simply. "I am what he needs most." He held up a hand as Tezcatli made a quick movement. "Only at the moment. This man, here, is who he lived for, and who he would have died for." He wafted a hand at the ghost. "The question now is, are you who he'll exist for in the future? Quentin needs a reason, Tezcatli. He has to have something, someone to live for. Else, he sees no purpose in existing."

As Liam talked, the ghost followed his movements with his eyes. Otherwise it remained still, in one spot, right next to Quentin. One transparent hand floated over that of Tezcatli's mate. Protective.

Tezcatli bristled. "Who are you?" he demanded, ignoring Liam. "Are you this Zach he keeps talking about? If you are, then p.i.s.s off! He's mine now. I want him. No one can stop me from taking him, especially not a corpse who should have pa.s.sed on. El Dia de la Muerte is months off. Go home until you're wanted. Which, I'm going to add, will be never. Quentin belongs to me now!"

The ghost spoke, startling Tezcatli. The dead had no voices! Did they?

"I was his lover," Zach said, brown eyes turning darker with rage. "We were the entire world to each other, man. Now I'm gone, and he was about to off himself. Do you know what that feels like? To almost lose the one you love?" His tone rose in anger.

"Who the h.e.l.l do you think you are? Do you even care one d.a.m.n bit about Quentin? If you do, then you better sit your a.s.s down and listen to me." He nipped at his lower lip. "I've only got a little while left. You did this to us, so you're gonna have to pay the price."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You made him move on!"

"And is this a bad thing?"

"No! f.u.c.k, no. I've been pus.h.i.+n' at him for months, trying to get him to stop grieving. He wouldn't listen to reason. Spent whole days in bed, hand around his c.o.c.k, pretending it was my mouth. Not jacking off, not letting himself come. Killing himself by inches. I had to watch because I couldn't leave." The ghost's voice broke a little. "Now I can't stay. It's all your d.a.m.n fault. But I half think I ought to thank you."

Tezcatli shook his head. "I don't understand," he said, lacing his words with menace. "Explain yourself, Zach. Demon or ghost, I don't care."

"I am the demon here, thank you," Liam murmured.

Tezcatli ignored him. "Well? Talk!"

"You gonna listen to me? Or do you plan on standin' there all night posing like you're the d.a.m.n King of the Jungle?"

"Men!" Liam interrupted. He turned to Quentin, who had uttered a whimper at the raised voices, and ran a hand down his glossy hair. "Hush, hush, it's all right." To Tezcatli, he said, "He is coming out of his trance. I could have kept him there for the whole of the night if I were not -- divided." He waved off the question before it could form. "Suffice it to say I do not have all the power I usually possess. Zach, speak your piece. Be quick about it, please."

Zach took a last, quick look at Quentin. His expression was touched with what looked like sympathy, and without a doubt, love. Tezcatli scowled. He didn't want anyone looking at Quentin that way but him. They'd only just met, but he knew Quentin could very well be the beta he'd been hunting for, and he wanted the chance to grow to love the man.

"All right," Zach said. He rounded on Tezcatli, turning all the might of his ghostly presence up to eleven. Tezcatli managed not to wince this time. He faced the f.u.c.ker down with the power of Cat.

They stood at odds for a long moment. Quentin's soft moan brought Zach out of it first. He reached down and laid a hand just over the man's shoulder. "This is how it went down," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "You see me and him? Black and white. That don't work where we came from. You hear my accent? I hear yours. We come from about the same place, wildcat.

"You think it's hard for someone like you? Think about what it was like for me. For us, fallin' in love." Zach looked at Quentin. His expression changed from abject misery to wistfulness. "We managed it, though. We did all right."

"Until that night," Quentin said suddenly. All eyes turned to him. He stood slowly, like an old man. His eyes were for Zach alone. "I knew we couldn't go on like we had been forever. I asked you if you'd leave with me. Go to one of the big cities. We could set up a practice, each of us. Live together without having to hide. We could be. Just be. No more pretenses and no more lies."

"But I said no," Zach replied. "I was scared, Q. You know how I felt about the ranch. Didn't have any other place to call my home. I might have had to hide one thing, but I was a d.a.m.n good horse doctor, and they all respected my name."

Quentin nodded. "And I wanted you to walk away from all of that," he said. When he swallowed it made a harsh noise.

"Someone heard us arguing."

"Put all the little clues together."

"They looked in the window."

"Saw us kissing."

"They heard us talking about where we'd go. How we could make a new life together." Quentin choked again. "They went and got their friends, and they came back ..." He slumped back down into the bench. His hands came up over his eyes. "I still see what they did. Every night, in my dreams, I have to watch it all over again. Those men, with horse whips and wood -- and iron branding rods."

Zach sank onto his knees in front of his former lover. "You did the right thing. You got out. Ran for help. Made a call. It saved your life, Q."

"But I left you." Quentin looked up. His eyes were dry, but Tezcatli found himself horror-stricken by the look in them. "I let you die."

"Q ..." Zach reached out, as if he'd thumb Quentin's cheek. "I was already gone by the time you left. The M.E. said as much. You heard him. G.o.d, you made him repeat himself a dozen times. You made it out alive, and that is all that matters. You hear me? I don't mind bein' dead. It's not bad. There's something good just waitin' for me beyond the horizon but, babe, you have got to let go."

"No." Quentin's hands darted out, flas.h.i.+ng through Zach like mist. He stared in terror, then shook himself. "I don't want to be without you."

"Babe. You have to." Zach glanced at Tezcatli. "I ain't mad. You moved on, and you made yourself another lucky catch."

"Another?"

Zach's grin was unexpected. All the same, it lit up his entire face. "What can I say?" He brushed off his lapels. "You do know how to pick the best guys out there." When Quentin gave a small laugh, he went on. "This man ain't all he seems, but he isn't gonna lie to you. Hear me? I was talkin' to this creepy little guy --"