| 24 | LOSS |
THE NEXT DAY Ara was working late when there was a rap on her office door. “You still here, Scott? I thought they’d have buried you in paperwork by now,” Sam asked.
“Venators never sleep. Where’ve you been all night?” she asked.
“Meeting with the Regent. Wanted an update on that Nephilim raid.”
Last night the Venators had finally caught a break and uncovered the location of the hive—the largest nest yet—five Nephilim huddled together in a Brooklyn warehouse. In the melee, the Venators had shot them dead. It was a shame they hadn’t been able to take one alive to answer questions. Ara hadn’t been on duty, but she knew Rowena had led the investigation, her first in her new position. They found a few more of the same plastic bags marked with the five silver triangles that Ara had found on the Neph downtown. It looked like they were selling crystal; there were traces of methamphetamine in the bags this time. Rowena grumbled that since the Venators had burned down the place, they’d never find out exactly what the Nephilim were doing there, but orders were orders.
She’d told Ara in confidence that the conclave was beginning to think that someone in the Coven was tipping off the Nephs, and she had been asked to head up the internal investigation. She’d been promoted to head spook; basically, her task was to spy on her fellow Venators. Rowena and her team were running deeper background checks on Venators, from noovs to commanding officers, as well as comparing notes to see if anyone could possibly have tampered with files or evidence.
Ara hoped the conclave was wrong about that. She didn’t like doubting or distrusting her colleagues. She was happy, though, for her partner’s new responsibilities and the trust she obviously had with the conclave, but she missed Rowena in the trenches. Ara stared at her partner’s empty chair and wondered who would fill it. She would be getting a new partner soon, but she liked working on her own.
“You know, I think I’ve found a way to link the pentagrams around the city to the Nephilim,” she said to Sam.
“Yeah, how so?”
“The five triangles on the dime bags.”
“Yeah?”
“I started playing around with it, and look, when you draw the outline—look what it makes.” She showed him the paper she was working on.
“A pentagram,” he said, impressed.
“Right? It can’t be a coincidence.”
“Nothing ever is,” he agreed. “Good work. But I mean it. Knock it off. It’s way past noon. Go on home.” He stopped by the door and turned. “I’ll see you there?” he asked with a wink.
“You bet.” She smiled.
A few hours later, after dinner, he was helping her with the dishes when he pushed her against her sink, kissing and smelling her neck. “You stink,” he said.
“You like it.” She laughed against his mouth, let him kiss her.
“I do,” Sam said, helping her out of her tank top.
“You smell good, too,” she said. “Aftershave?” It was a comfortable, manly smell, and it made her feel protected.
“You like that,” he murmured, lifting her easily so that she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom.
They made love quickly and furiously. When they were done, they lay in an exhausted heap, his arms still wrapped around her. “Sex and blood, that’s all there is to life,” he whispered.
She started to laugh softly. “You’re a philosopher now?”
“Maybe. You ever taken a human familiar?”
“Not yet.”
“I noticed—you haven’t registered one. You should. Blood’s all we have left. That’s all there is to this life.”
“Pretty bleak way to look at it,” she said.
“Just being realistic. This is no way to live.” The bitterness in his tone surprised her.
“Considering what we just did, I have to take that as an insult,” she said lightly.
“Sorry,” Sam said, kissing her forehead. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant—”
“Forget it, Chief,” she said. “I understand.” Even though she really didn’t and wasn’t sure what had brought on that sudden darkness in him.
They went to bed. When the alarm rang, she turned it off and slowly moved from underneath his bulk, feeling guilty and awkward. She began to dress quietly and had just sheathed her blades when he woke up.
“Midnight already?” He yawned.
“Yeah, I thought I’d make it in on time for once,” she said. “I have a hunch about those pentagrams. I think they’re using it as some kind of marker.”
“Who?”
“The Nephilim.”
“Okay,” he said, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his clothes. “You might have something there. Keep working on it.”
“Sam,” she said hesitantly, while he got dressed and put on his shoes.
“Yeah?” he asked, immediately concerned when he saw the look on her face.
It had been on her mind and she had to say it now or she never would. She took a deep breath. “I don’t think this is a good idea… us… what we’re doing.”
He looked surprised. “Oh?”
“I mean, you’re my boss, you know?”
Sam crossed his arms and nodded. “Yeah, I’m aware.”
“I just—”
He took a sharp breath. “Don’t worry about it. We had fun, right?” he asked lightly, even though she could sense the trace of bitterness in his voice.
Blood’s all we have left, he said. That’s all there is to this life. It was as if he had nothing to live for. He was a good guy, but there was a bleakness in him that she hadn’t expected to find. It creeped her out a little.
“Well, I guess I should be going,” he said, turning around.
“I hope we can be friends?” she said faintly.
He nodded. “Don’t worry, Scott. We’ll be friends. You still work for me. And I’ll still look out for you. I promise.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
She closed the door behind him and exhaled. She felt as if she were free again, unfettered, unburdened. Alone. It was a good feeling.
The next evening, she ran into Deming Chen, who deliberately pushed her into the wall with her shoulder and muttered “bitch” under her breath.
“Excuse me? Do you have a problem?” Ara asked, confronting her.
“He wasn’t good enough for you?” Deming asked, wheeling around. “Why lead him on, then?”
“I didn’t do anything of the sort,” Ara hissed. “He was the one who picked me up. And explain to me how this is any of your business?”
“It is my business.”
“Why? Who’s he to you anyway?”
Deming leaned in so that she could see her ivory teeth and her poreless, perfect skin. “He’s the twin brother of my lost bondmate.”
Twins who had married twins. Sam and Ted Lennox. Deming and Dehua Chen. Ara remembered the story now. But she had never put it together that Sam and Deming had been the surviving twins, that they each had suffered two great losses.
“I’m sorry.” Ara felt the fight go out of her. “I didn’t know.”
“You should be,” Deming said. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose somebody.”
No, I guess not, Ara thought bitterly. The War only took my parents, my friends, and everyone I ever loved.
When she went home that night, she decided not to do the dishes from the dinner she and Sam had shared the night before. She was exhausted from work and feeling low about the awkwardness that had crept into her formerly healthy relationship with the chief. The next day she couldn’t make the effort, either, and soon the garbage overflowed and the dust balls resembled gray fungus, like the darkness she was worried was growing around her heart.
Was Sam right? Was there nothing to this life but sex and blood? Not that she was having either at the moment.
Sam remained a friend, just like he’d promised, even though Deming hated her and turned the whole team against her. After a week or two, Ara began to feel better and vowed one day soon she would clean her apartment.