Blood Work (41 page)

A quick scan
got me one bored woman dreading the long drive back to Logan late
at night. Maybe she would leave after the main course, unless
dessert turned out to be something more than a slice of wedding
cake and a sugared almond. Prodding a bit further let me know we
were in Boondall.

Boondall?
Really? That was just across the way from the ’Cliffe. Man, it had
felt like so much further. Had it turned out to be the Gold Coast,
I would have been satisfied, but Boondall?

Lifting back
up to the airy heights above human thought, I sped on. This time,
with some idea of distance, I let myself ride for a bit longer and
touched down in the city centre. Wow. Talk about loud. A couple
thousand minds yelling at me about lunch choices, mammograms, the
fifty dollars they took from the till, that one line of that song
you just can’t get out of your head, the best way to beat the
traffic to get to the footy game on time and about a million other
minute of life. It was overwhelming and chaotic, thousands of
ethereal faces turned to me all at once, demanding attention.

Retreating
from that mess ASAP, I hovered, thinking that while this was a cool
experience, it wasn’t really gaining me much. Wondered if I could
actively search for someone. It would be a handy skill base. This
was a lot faster, and cheaper, than driving around.

There was no
choice, really. Being the most recent aura I’d touched, I
concentrated on Erin. I remembered her flavour. The heady mix
flooded through me, wrapped around me and pulled.

And bang,
there I was, lying against her sleeping mind. She was dreaming, a
disturbing mix of fear and longing, wickedly sharp blades of
happiness cutting deep to leave wounds of painful ecstasy. I didn’t
think it was a result of the events of the night before. This was
something older, a mature fear living deep within her like a tumour
the body slowly adjusts to even while it eats away at the healthy
tissue and slowly spreads its poisons. Something she fled from with
all her strength when awake, but couldn’t escape in sleep. Yet in
sleep, she could embrace this dread, make it her own and gain
sustenance from it. It lifted her above the drudgery of life, gave
her a purpose to fight, to drive forward. She hated it, but was
scared of what would happen when it finally went away. It was the
basis of her life, the foundation she worked on. Without it, and it
would one day be gone, she would fall and fall and maybe she
wouldn’t crash, but just keep falling. And that was a true
terror.

Shaking, I
pulled away from her, drifted on the very edges of her mind. With a
little work, I was certain I could find out what was the source of
this exquisitely balanced madness. Maybe I could help her with it,
be a support, possibly find her a layer below this rocky level she
currently stood on so that when it was ripped away, she wouldn’t
fall far. But she didn’t want me in her life anymore. I was a
danger to be around. There was a definite hint I could make it
worse for her. After all, I was the one in therapy. That didn’t
qualify me to go around offering aid to others.

So I pulled
away completely. I would honour her decision. When she recovered
and made contact to return my gun, that would be it.

Once again
high above casual contact, I took a moment to gather up some calm.
I had proven I could home in on someone’s aura. Good to know. How
else could I apply this?

Big Red.

I’d been
saturated in his aura more than any other, ever. Should be an easy
thing to find. I concentrated on that musty, dry cab sav touch.

And nearly
tore myself apart.

Flailing madly, I managed to
struggle free of all the grasping, clutching strands of Red auras.
I fled straight up as fast as I could, shedding the vestiges of the
taste of old red wine as I went.

Fucking hell.
If I’d been able to feel my heart, I’m sure it would be close to
heart attack level palpitations. As it was, I felt as if I’d been
put through a wheat thrasher. Only when I was absolutely free of
the touch of Red auras did I allow myself to contemplate what had
happened. Unlike Erin’s aura that had come to me in a single, warm
embrace, this had been cold, clawed hands coming from all
directions. They hadn’t slid around me with inviting intimacy. This
had been a predator pouncing. No, several, dozens, even hundreds of
predators pouncing.

Of course.
Idiot. Aurum had spelled it out for me and still I was blundering
around like a fool with his eyes closed. The Reds were all
psychically linked. They shared the same aura. Reach for one, and
get them all.

But at least
it seemed they weren’t alerted to my esoteric arse. Good thing,
right? Yeah, but here’s a question for inquisitive minds. How had
they reached back in the middle of the day? Weren’t they all
sleeping with the psychic fishes like Mercy? Maybe it had been a
unconscious reaction. I’d called to their aura, and it had
answered, just as mine had lifted free of my body during sleep. So,
we had a working hypothesis. Time to test it.

I dropped down
toward the ocean of minds bonded closely to the earth. A gentle hum
of thoughts wafted around me, the sum of all the sentience in the
city and surrounds. Could I just send out a little enquiry on the
wavelength of the Reds, but not actively call to them? One way to
find out.

This time, I
just thought about the flavour. I didn’t push it out beyond myself.
It was kind of like turning on your wireless internet connection
and hoping your silly neighbour didn’t have his service protected;
you just picked up on what was already there without having to
spend your own money.

A faint,
flittering touch of Red drifted up to me. Neat. I drifted over the
little map it made, sensing where the touches came from. Wow. I’d
known the Reds were the most populous of the clans in Brisbane, but
I’d not really had an idea of how many there were. They were
freaking everywhere. Yet, there was a strong concentration of them
in one place. The army Kermit said Big Red had been gathering?
Betcha it was, ten to one.

I hadn’t
shifted from my position directly above Erin, so I dropped right
back down but skirted her still sleeping mind and found a nurse. Ah
ha. We were in the Logan Public Hospital. I had a starting point
for reference. Shooting back up, I felt along the threads leading
toward the high density Reds. Pretty much directly north. Skimming
along, I got to a point slightly to the side of my target. Wary of
accidentally drawing out the Reds again, I moved down carefully and
brushed a fingertip over the surrounds.

Kermit hadn’t
lied. Big Red and his recruits were holed up by the river mouth,
just not south of it where there was a majority of industrial
estates with handy warehouses. They were just to the north of it,
right beside the airport.

Booyah! Big
Red, you are going down.

I relaxed and
let my aura snap right back to my body. Whoa. Mistake. I slammed
home with the force of falling from several stories up. Woke me up,
very thoroughly. I lurched up, spluttering and coughing and nearly
fell off the old couch I was lying on. The sudden motion jarred my
knee, alerting me to the ebbing tide of morphine. Which was a bitch
in more than one way, because my head was about to explode with a
sudden and intense headache.

No idea how
long it took me to get some semblance of humanity back, but when I
pried my eyelids apart, late afternoon sunlight speared into them.
Ack! I rolled off the couch, floundered around for my cane and
managed to hobble inside where the light was dimmer and wouldn’t
burn the eyeballs out of my head.

Once again
exhibiting the lengths of evolution man has undergone by drinking
from the kitchen tap, I hauled together a shred of dignity and
hobbled into the office. Plonking myself down at the desk, I
reached for the phone. Roberts might like to hear of my success,
and hopefully be excited enough to offer up his car for another
hunt.

There were
several missed calls on the phone, no messages left. The number was
the same for all of them and not one I knew. Telemarketers with
unusual persistence? It wasn’t someone after Night Call. Those
calls only came to the mobile.

I wheeled
myself into my bedroom and then limped into the bathroom. The
mobile was on the sink, where I’d left it after disembowelling
myself on Erin’s call. It too registered numerous unanswered calls,
from the same number. Again, no messages.

To ring back
or not to ring back. That is the question.

I rang
back.

“Hello?”

A familiar
female voice. A moment’s introspection gave me the identity.

“Gale, it’s
Matt Hawkins.”

“Oh.” Not the
joyous sound of someone hearing back from the person they’d been
trying to reach all day. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

“Yeah, I
figured. Sorry, I was out all day. Forgot to take my mobile.”
Wasn’t a real lie, was it. “What’s up?”

“Rob’s in
jail.”

I plonked down
on the toilet. “What? Why?”

She sighed.
“He was at work last night, at the Fringe Bar. I don’t know why he
was there. He told me he would be covering the south side for a
while, but he went to the Valley anyway.” Her tone tightened. “He
said he was following up on something for you. Something from the
night before.”

“Shit,” I
hissed. He’d been snooping about Big Red. Stupid bastard. “I didn’t
ask him to, Gale.”

“I know you
didn’t. He said you didn’t. But he did it anyway.”

And clearly
that was still my fault. She really had a dislike going for me.

“What
happened?” I asked wearily. Hey, I was seeing jail as a plus. It
was better than hospital, or a morgue.

Gale ground
her teeth so hard I heard it down the line. “He didn’t tell me the
specifics, but apparently two guys took exception to the questions
he was asking. There was a fight. One of the other men got
away.”

I swallowed
the lump of dread in my throat. “And the other one?”

“Witnesses say
Rob killed him.”

Oh God. “What
does Roberts say?”

“He won’t say
anything to me about it.” Gale’s voice cracked around rage or fear.
I couldn’t tell. “He just asked me to call you and tell you to call
him.”

“Gale, it’ll
be okay. He didn’t kill anyone.” Human, at least. Or so I
desperately hoped.

She snapped.
“How do you know? What the fuck is your deal, Hawkins? Rob talks
about you like you’re some kind of secret agent or something. And
then he goes off and gets himself in trouble because of you. I
don’t care what or who you are, you’re fucking with his life and I
won’t let you do that.”

Through the
headache, my anger spiked. What was my deal? What was her fucking
deal, more like. How long had she known Roberts? A couple of weeks?
A month? And that gave her rights over his life that I, who had
been his friend for much longer, didn’t get? At least I wasn’t
telling him to give Gale up because I didn’t like her.

Clenching my
teeth against voicing those demands out loud, I considered just
hanging up. Then I’d be tasked with finding which lock up Roberts
was in. So, I counted to ten, then twenty. All the while, Gale
ground her teeth down the line at me.

“Do you have a
number I can get him on?” I asked steadily.

There was
silence while she got herself under some control. When she spoke,
she spat a phone number in rapid fire and then hung up. I carefully
put my mobile down, then picked up a can of shaving cream and
smashed it into the mirror. As far as therapeutic ventings went, it
was an aesthetically pleasing one. There’s nothing like a broken
mirror to display the many fractures in a man’s inner darkness. Way
symbolic. But in terms of relief…? Not enough.

When I was
done, the shower stall glass was scattered across the floor. There
were four fist sized dints in the wall and the door wasn’t going to
close properly ever again. Trembling, I made it to my bed and sat
down, head cradled in my grossly shaking hands, blood from my torn
knuckles trickling down my arms. I tried controlled breathing, but
I was still too wound up, jittering in the afterglow of a good hit
of anger.

Eventually,
the adrenaline eased off and I could think again. Before anything
else swamped me, I grabbed the phone and dialled what I hoped was
the number Gale had given me. There was still an awful lot of blood
rushing through my ears, so I missed the opening lines of the
policeman that answered. When he paused for breath, I told him who
I wanted to speak to, and a few diverts later, Roberts came to the
phone.

“Matt, took
your sweet time.”

He sounded
okay. I let out a long held breath. “Sorry. I was catching up on
some sleep.”

“You sound
shaky, man.”

“That should
be expected. I mean, I just heard my best mate’s in jail for
murder.” I wasn’t about to tell him Gale had ripped me a new one,
as well. That was for them to sort out. Right there, Gale, was my
fucking deal.

“Alleged,”
Roberts grunted with stoic good cheer. “And when they can’t find a
body, even alleged is not going to stick for long. I’m not
worried.”

Except that he
was.

“Vampire?” I
asked needlessly.

“Yeah. Still
got that wretched stench in my sinuses.”

“What
happened?”

“I was
stupid,” he said baldly. “Hadn’t heard from you all day, and I’ve
been neglecting the civic duties for a while, so I thought I should
go earn my keep. Still don’t know why I did it, but I ended up at
the Fringe, thinking I could see if someone there had a lead on Big
Red.”

“Not stupid,”
I reassured him. “Fucking grade A retarded. I should come down
there and beat you senseless myself.”

“Don’t know
about that, but I sure would appreciate a lesson on the ways of
retrieving the soap in the shower without bending over.”