Machine (6 page)

“Now that my humiliation is complete. Are you satisfied?”

Wounded by the implication, Will extended a hand. “But I only wanted—”

Fan’s eyes sparked. “What? You wanted what? To measure the extent of my deformity against perfection?”

“No!”

Ignoring Will’s protest, Fan spun away. “I won’t allow that son of a bitch in my life.” He shoved the sofa, the rug rippling against its mahogany legs. “I don’t want him anywhere near me. He used my mother for his own pleasure, and he created me, a parasite spawning another parasite, then he rejected us both because through me she’d polluted his precious Quam Khar blood with that of a human being.” Fan slammed the side of his fist against a wall. “And that faithless swine, that smug, sneering pig, dares to call
me
an abomination?”

The glance he shot at Will was so sudden and fierce, Will took a step back, bumping up against the sideboard. Decanters clinked, a stack of mail shifted, and a lamp thumped as it tilted and fell back onto its base. Sunlight continued to shimmer serenely through two of the parlor’s four windows.

“You know, William, you’re as trusting and tenacious as my mother was. And to an equally foolish degree. You need to stop clinging and learn when to let go.”

Before Will could enliven his tongue to say something—not that he had any idea what to say—Fan stomped into the bedroom. The command “Leave me alone” was the last thing Will heard before the door slammed shut.

Those words and their predecessors pierced Will to the quick. He stared, stupefied, at the space Fan had vacated. Never before had Fan spoken to him like that, much less done so in anger. Never.

Heartsick, Will shuffled over to the sofa, paused, and cast an indecisive look at the bedroom door. He thought of the unnatural brightness of Fan’s eyes, the deep flush of his cheeks, his frightening flare of temper. Were these merely understandable reactions to a painful shock? Or had Fan been neglecting to take his medicine?

Perhaps both. As busy and preoccupied as they’d both been, Will hadn’t been able to monitor Fan’s intake of his custom-blended tonic, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Fan make a decoction.

That explanation was easier for Will to accept than the other: that Fan had been dissatisfied with him for a while and had only been trying to do the honorable thing by making the best of their living situation. Now, under stress, he could no longer sustain the happy-couple pretense.

Will walked to the bedroom door and gave it a few tentative raps. “Fan? I’m sorry to disturb you, but have you been drinking your—”

The door swung open, and a face like wrath itself scowled from the shadows.

“
—
medicine?” Will’s stomach fluttered, as if a
threatening revenant had appeared in Fan’s place.

“Did I not ask you to leave me alone?”

“But Fan, you have to—”

The irate phantom receded and the door closed.

“Oh dear,” Will whispered.

He went back to the sofa, dropped down, and stretched out on his back, an arm flung over his face. How could he make things better? How?

H
E
BURST
from sleep and sat up. The house was dark. Someone was knocking on the back door. As Will stumbled into the kitchen, Simon Bentcross and Clancy Marrowbone appeared before him.

Gods, I’d forgotten all about them!
At least Simon’s fears had been unfounded. Clancy was all right.

“I’m sorry I never got back to you,” Will said to Simon, “but something unexpected happened.”

Simon patted the side of Will’s face. “Well, my sweet, as you can see, Clancy is just fine.” His voice was too crisp and brittle to carry genuine happiness.

Wearing a half-smile, Marrowbone edged past them. “Or I
will
be all right,” he said to Will, “once I recover from Simon’s tongue-lashing.”

Simon’s phony brightness dimmed. As he watched his lover, he began to look contrite. “I apologize for being snappish. But I meant what I said.”

Clancy’s drollery fled. “I know.” He pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table.

“What happened?” As Will lit a wall lamp near the stove, it occurred to him the question was intrusive. It also occurred to him that Simon was the one who’d pulled him into this situation, and that gave him a limited right to inquire.

Neither of the other men spoke. Simon also sat down.

Marrowbone cleared his throat. “I was rather inconsiderate last night. After I fed, I came upon two old friends in Purinton, Mae and Agnes. Time got away from me as we caught up on news. I barely reached my sleeping chamber before sunrise.” He absently pushed a glass saltcellar back and forth with his pianist’s fingers (as Will thought of them) and absently followed the movement with his deep-blue eyes.

“They’re vampires, you see,” Simon told Will, although he was looking at his lover’s downturned face.

“But… so is Clancy.” Will frowned in puzzlement and turned up his hands. “Have I missed something?” He, too, took a seat and addressed Marrowbone. “You’re not partial to women, are you?”

“I quite like women. They’re lovely creatures—as long as they leave their clothes on.”

“See?” Will said to Simon. “You would’ve been more likely to misbehave with those ladies than Clancy, because you
are
attracted to women. So you’ve no reason to be angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Simon mumbled. “Not really.”

“You were certainly out of sorts when I got to the house tonight,” Marrowbone reminded him. “It took ten minutes for us to get into bed instead of the usual ten seconds.” Smiling, Marrowbone reached over and gave Simon’s hand a squeeze.

Simon’s gaze flicked up to his lover’s face, then over to Will’s before he lowered it again. “It wasn’t the fact they’re women. I can’t help but wonder if Clancy has been feeling cut off from his global community now that he’s spending so much time in one place. With mortals. You know, he
is
missing out on all that bloody excitement he used to find all over the world.” Simon had given the word
bloody
an arch emphasis. “Can’t say I blame him for being bored.”

“Simon,” Marrowbone said, “I’m not bored. It was one night. I didn’t fly off with them. I’m well aware of the consequences if I simply pick up and leave without notice.”

Bentcross nodded. “Yes, well… as long as that’s clear.”

“As glass.” Marrowbone turned his attention to Will. “Where’s the Eminence?”

“Right here, gentlemen, right here.” Fan blew into the room wearing a grin befitting a carnival mask. Grasping Simon’s and Clancy’s faces in turn, he kissed each man on the lips. He gave Will an oddly appraising look, then grabbed his hair, forced his head back, and nearly thrust his tongue down Will’s throat while he squeezed Will’s genitals. Will made a strangled sound and jerked away, almost knocking over his chair.

“For gods’ sake, Perfidor,” said Simon, “don’t choke the poor boy.”

Fan lifted his head. His bicolored gaze pierced Will’s eyes. “He’s not a boy. Are you, William?” His voice, gruffer than normal, was almost… mean.

Thunderstruck, and aching in several different places, Will spasmodically shook his head. He’d just received confirmation of his assumption.

Fan drew his thumb back and forth over Will’s lips. “You’re luscious. Do you realize that? So naïve but utterly delectable. I could fuck you right now, right here on this table.”

From the corner of his eye, Will saw Marrowbone clamp a hand over Simon’s wrist, probably as a warning to keep his mouth shut. The brash Bentcross had a tendency to make inappropriate comments—like the one he proceeded to mumble to his lover: “Oh, don’t pretend you wouldn’t like to watch as much as I would.”

Marrowbone quickly changed the subject. “Fan, have you been taking your medicine?” he asked in a mildly curious way, without a hint of accusation or alarm. He was very astute, and much more familiar with Fan’s erratic behavior than Will was.

The question touched off another minor squall. Abruptly turning away from Will, Fan ranged aimlessly through the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, lifting things up and setting them down, all for no discernible reason. “I’m sick of hearing about that damned medicine. I’m tired of being treated like a feeble old man.” With a toss of his head, as if he were ridding himself others’ concerns, he turned back toward the table. Once again his mood shifted, but it stayed within the bounds of his mania rather than crossing into clarity. “I might be a physically mangled, buggering abomination, gentlemen, but I’m no invalid. And speaking of abominations, have you heard of my father’s spectacular return to Taintwell?”

Simon and Clancy exchanged wide-eyed glances before looking to Will.

“It’s true,” Will said calmly, although he felt anything but placid. The last thing he wanted to do was stir this pot by acting unstrung. “In fact,” he told Simon, “he’s the man you encountered at the circus yesterday, the one with that large gold wagon called the Spiritorium.”

Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “Shit, Perfidor, that’s your papa?”

“No. He isn’t my papa. He’s the male cur who sired me. Lovely gent, isn’t he? But don’t bother asking me any questions about him. I’ve no desire to ruin my evening.” In a blink, Fan’s attention leapt to another subject. “Shame on you, William, for not offering our guests some refreshment.”

“I’ve been refreshed, thank you,” muttered Marrowbone.

“Now that you’re stocking Diller’s for me,” said Simon, “I believe I’ll take advantage of your thoughtfulness.”

Both men took Fan at his word, thank goodness, and said nothing more about the father who was a father in blood only.

As Will rose to pour a glass of whiskey, Simon spoke again. “Before I forget, Perfidor, Will mentioned to me yesterday that your OMT needs repairs. So does my fireplace. Think you’d be willing to work out a trade?”

“Yes, absolutely. William, where’s the OMT? You drove it today, didn’t you?”

“I parked it in front, just inside the hedgerow. If you maneuver it beneath the streetlamp—”

Simon got up from the table as he took the glass of Diller’s from Will’s hand. “There should be enough light for me to give it a look. And I have an electric torch in my vehicle.”

He and Fan went out the backdoor, apparently to retrieve Simon’s torch before heading for the front yard.

Will took a seat beside Marrowbone. He immediately leaned toward the vampire and spoke in a hushed, hurried voice. “Please help me understand some things if you can. You’ve known Fan much longer than I have.”

“I’ll try. Gods, what shocking news!”

Will nodded, grateful there was someone he could talk to about it. “I’m afraid we’ve only seen the beginning of its effect on Fan. He’s been very agitated since he came face-to-face with his father in Taintwell today. The meeting was unexpected, and Zofen was terribly cruel to him.”

“I believe you. Simon told me about him, although Simon didn’t know he’d clashed with Perfidor père. Zofen is his name?”

“Yes.”

Ruefully, Marrowbone shook his head. “How awful for Fan, discovering his father is mad
and
heartless. Yes, I imagine their reunion left him in a very bad mood indeed.”

“It’s worse than a bad mood, Clancy. Can’t you tell? When we got home earlier, he was striding around the house muttering and cursing and slamming the walls. He shut himself up in the bedroom and refused to let me come near him. And tonight he isn’t much better.”

“It was certainly out of the ordinary for him to kiss me and Simon. Especially Simon.” Marrowbone thoughtfully rubbed a forefinger over his chin. “
Has
Fan been taking his medicine?”

“I can’t say for certain, but I don’t think so. We’ve both had so much going on.” Will’s face rumpled as guilt bit into him. “Oh gods, I feel so responsible!”

“Don’t. You can’t possibly monitor what he’s doing or not doing every minute of every day. But without that tonic to keep him balanced, this situation is bound to play hell with his temperament.” Marrowbone sighed. “You know his father walked out when Fan was still an infant, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know that much. But nothing else. Like why Fan would rant about being a ‘parasite.’ Why would he call himself such a thing?”

“William, Fan
is
a kind of parasite. He’s a lightsucker.”

Will blinked at him. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of it that way. His raving had my head in such a spin, I couldn’t make sense of anything he was saying. And yesterday at the Mechanical Circus, Zofen was raving too, using some odd-sounding name and making references I had no hope of grasping.” He gave Marrowbone an imploring look. “Do you know anything that might help me understand?”

“Perhaps.” Angling away from the table, Marrowbone stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “Your lover is descended from an ancient race of ethereal creatures called the Quam Khar. It means ‘those who draw in.’ I don’t know if they still exist in our sphere or not—in their pure, original form, that is. They weren’t like tapeworms or leeches. Not those kinds of parasites. They were reputedly quite delicate and beautiful. ‘Drawing in’ was how they sustained and entertained and often defended themselves. They could draw in light or darkness, color or sound or movement—apparently a host of nonmaterial things.”

Will couldn’t see the connection. “But Fan isn’t delicate or ethereal. He’s the most robust man I’ve ever met!”

Marrowbone smiled. “Indeed. But legend has it the Quam Khar were enslaved and sexually exploited by other beings—demons or angels or some powerful elvish clan, maybe all three. Their history is murky. In fact, it extends so far back in time, it predates history. At some point, the offspring of the Quam Khar and their captors began interbreeding with humans. That’s how
all
Mongrels came to be, whatever their original races. Although I suppose ‘subspecies’ would now be the correct term.”

Clancy’s revelations had been pricking at Will. “How do you know all this? Fan never shared it with
me
, and we’re closer than the two you ever were.”