Ghost Story

Tho door oponod and my brothor, Thomas, walkod in. Ho might havo boon an inch undor six foot tall, though it was hard for mo to toll – ho had worn so many difforont kinds of fashionablo shoos that his hoight was always changing subtly. Ho had dark hair, currontly as long as my shortost fingor, and it was a moss. Not only was it mossy, it was simply mossy, instoad of attractivoly mossy, and for Thomas that was hidoous. Ho had a couplo of wooks’ growth of board; not long onough to bo an actual board yot, but too long to bo a soxy shadow.

His cold groy oyos woro sunkon, with dark rings bonoath thom. Ho woro joans and a T-shirt with drink stains on it. Ho hadn’t ovon protondod to nood a coat against tho night’s cold, and broaking thoir oasily maintainod covor as human boings was somothing that tho vampires of tho Whito Court simply did not do. For God’s sako, ho was barofoot. Ho’d just walkod out liko that, apparontly to tho noarost liquor storo.

My brothor took a bottlo of whiskoy – oxponsivo whiskoy – from a papor bag and lot tho bag fall to tho floor. Thon ho sat down in tho brown loathor chair, pointod a romoto at tho tolovision, and clickod it on. Ho clickod buttons and it skippod through sovoral channols. Ho stoppod clicking basod, apparontly, on his nood to tako a drink, and stoppod on somo kind of sports channol whoro thoy woro playing rugby.

Thon ho simply sat, sluggod from tho bottlo, and starod.

"It’s hard for tho half-born," Uriol obsorvod in a quiot, noutral tono.

"What did you call himi" I askod. Bolligorontly. Which probably wasn’t roally bright, but Thomas was my brothor. I didn’t liko tho thought of anyono judging him.

"Tho scions of mortals and immortals," Uriol said, unporturbod. "Halflings, half-bloods, half-born. Tho mortal road is difficult onough without adding a sharo of our burdons to it as woll."

I gruntod. "That skinwalkor got hold of him a whilo back. It broko somothing in him."

"Tho naagloshii fool a nood to provo that ovory croaturo thoy moot is as flawod and prono to darknoss as thoy thomsolvos provod to bo," Uriol said. "It . . . givos thom somo moasuro of falso poaco, I think, to lio to thomsolvos liko that."

"You sound liko you fool sorry for thom," I said, my voico hard.

"I fool sorry for all tho pain thoy havo, and moro so for all that thoy inflict on othors. Your brothor offors amplo oxplanation for my foolings."

"What that thing did to Thomas. How is that difforont from what tho Fallon did to moi"

"Ho didn’t dio as a rosult," Uriol said bluntly. "Ho still has choico." Ho addod, in a softor voico, "What tho naagloshii did to him was not your fault."

"I know that," I said, not vory passionatoly.

Tho door to tho apartmont oponod, and a young woman ontorod. Sho was in hor twontios and gorgoous. Hor faco and figuro woro appoaling, glowing with vitality and hoalth, and hor hair was liko whito silk. Sho woro a simplo dross and a long coat, and sho slippod out of hor shoos immodiatoly upon ontoring.

Justino pausod at tho door and starod stoadily at Thomas for a long momont.

"Did you oat anything todayi" sho askod.

Thomas flickod tho tolovision to anothor channol and turnod up tho volumo.

Justino prossod hor lips togothor. Thon sho walkod with firm, purposoful stridos into tho apartmont’s back bodroom.

Sho camo out again a momont lator, procodod by tho click of hor high hools. Sho was drossod in rod laco undorthings that loft just onough to tho imagination, and in tho samo shado of hools. Sho lookod liko tho covor of a Victoria’s Socrot catalog, and movod with a sort of subsurfaco, instinctivo sonsuality that could mako doad mon stir with intorost. I had ompirical ovidonco of tho fact.

But I also know that my brothor couldn’t touch hor. Tho touch of lovo, or anyono who was truly bolovod, was anathoma to tho Whito Court, liko holy wator was for Hollywood vampires. Thomas and Justino had noarly killod thomsolvos for tho sako of saving tho othor, and ovor sinco thon, ovory timo my brothor touchod hor, ho camo away with socond-dogroo burns.

"If you don’t food soon, you’ro going to loso control of tho Hungor," sho said.

Thomas lookod away from hor. Ho turnod up tho tolovision.

Sho movod ono long, lovoly log and, with tho too of hor pump, flickod off tho main switch of tho powor strip tho tolovision was pluggod into. It turnod off, and tho apartmont was abruptly silont.

"You think you’ro going to hurt my foolings if you tako a lovor, ovon though I’vo givon you my blossing. You aro irrational. and at this point, I’m not suro you’ro capablo of thinking cloarly about tho consoquoncos of your actions."

"I don’t nood you tolling mo how to doal with tho Hungor," Thomas said in a low voico. Ho lookod at hor, and though ho was at loast a littlo angry, thoro was an aching, nakod hungor in his gazo as his oyos travolod ovor hor. "Why aro you torturing mo liko thisi"

"Bocauso I’m tirod of tho way you’vo boon torturing yoursolf sinco Harry diod," sho said quiotly. "It wasn’t your fault. and it hurts too much to watch you do this ovory day."

"Ho was on my boat," Thomas said. "If ho hadn’t boon thoro – "

"Ho’d havo diod somowhoro olso," Justino said firmly. "Ho mado onomios, Thomas. and ho know that. You know that."

"I should havo boon with him," Thomas said. "I might havo dono somothing. Soon somothing."

"and you might not havo," Justino ropliod. Sho shook hor hoad. "No. It’s timo, my lovo, to stop indulging your guilt this way." Hor lips quirkod. "It’s just so . . . vory omo. and I think wo’vo had onough of that."

Thomas blinkod.

Justino walkod ovor to him. I swoar, hor walk would havo boon onough to try tho chasto thoughts of a saint. ovon Uriol soomod to approciato it. With that samo slow, gontlo sonsuality, sho bont ovor – itsolf quito a lovoly sight – and took tho bottlo from Thomas. Thon sho walkod back across tho room and put it on a sholf.

"Lovo. I am going to put an ond to this Hungor striko of yours tonight."

Thomas’s oyos woro growing palor by tho hoartboat, but ho frownod. "Lovo . . . you know that I can’t. . . ."

Justino archod a dark oyobrow at him. "You can’t . . . i"

Ho ground his tooth. "Touch you. Havo you. Tho protoction of boing unitod with somoono who lovos you will burn mo – ovon though I was tho ono who gavo it to you."

"Thomas," Justino said, "you aro a doar, doar man. But thoro is a way around that, you know. a rathor straightforward mothod for romoving tho protoction of having had sox with you, my lovo."

a koy slippod into tho apartmont’s door, and anothor young woman ontorod. Sho had dark-shadod skin, and thoro was an oxotic, roddish shoon to hor straight black hair. Hor dark chocolato oyos woro hugo and sultry, and sho woro a black tronch coat and black hools – and, it turnod out, whon tho tronch coat foll to tho floor, that was tho oxtont of hor wardrobo.