Nightshifted (Edie Spence 1)

“Heh. ”

“I figured you’d learn Spanish for work. Or French—you’ve always been a mushy romantic. But German? Odd choice. ”

I crossed my arms, unaccustomed to being a passenger in my own car. He was lucky Grandfather hadn’t exploded, or shot out laser beams, or done anything else that angry German ghosts tended to do. “It was the right price at the store. Where are we going?”

“Molly’s. ”

“Nice. ” I knew the place; it was close to my house. They made a mean chicken-fried steak and eggs. “How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good. ”

“Where’ve you been?” I pressed.

“Around. ” He glanced over at me, briefly, then continued to drive. Did I even really want to know the honest answers to those questions? Probably not. We sank into the easy silence of people who love one another—or at least one person who loved the other, and the junkie who loved her back as long as it was expedient—and who really have nothing left to talk about anymore.

* * *

Our silence lasted until after we ordered breakfast. He had coffee, I stuck to iced tea, keeping the ice cubes against my lip with my tongue, and we pretended to catch up on things.

“So really, Jake—how’ve you been?” I wanted to reach over and roll up his sleeves to see for myself. Then again, right now, he looked so clean-cut—at least clean-shaven—that I was ill-inclined to break the illusion. I was the one who looked beaten down—hell, I had the busted lip to prove it. If everything was going to go to shit in my life, I could at least pretend that my brother was back together in his. But the nurse in me wouldn’t let me not ask. “Are you still … experimenting?”

He stared off into the distance, through the plate-glass window, frosted with a mural of fake Christmastime snow. It was a thousand-yard stare, but at least his pupils constricted. “I did for a while. ” He inhaled and exhaled. “But I’m broke now. ”

He seemed so sad and forlorn. “Do I have a couch left at home?” I asked in an overly teasing tone, to break the mood.

“Not broke as in out of money—well, yeah, that too. ” He looked ruefully at me. “I mean I’m broken on the inside. ”

“How so?”

“I dunno. The synapses in my head. Edie, I can’t even get all the way drunk anymore. How sad is that?” he asked me, in all seriousness.

“Not very. ” Pretty soon he’d have to get a job to lose himself in, maybe a girlfriend. Soon he’d be normal. If only the spell would last.

The waitress brought our food. Molly’s chicken-fried steak and eggs slathered with gravy was as good as I remembered. “Can I tell you something? And you not think I’m crazy?” he asked.

What could be as crazy as death by vampire trial? “Sure, Jake,” I said around a mouthful.

“I think,” he

said, looking around, then leaning over. “I think I’m part of some test. ”

I almost choked on my eggs. I forced the bolus down, and took a long swig of tea. “Really?”

He studied my face. “You think I’m crazy. ”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I opted to cover my tracks. “Well, you have done a lot of drugs, Jakey. ”

“Seriously, Sissy—you and I both know that this is weird, right? I mean, not even booze. ” He sighed, staring into his unadulterated coffee. “Not even booze. ”

“Maybe it’s a chance for you to start over?” I suggested. “I mean, now that you’re clean, you can get a fresh start. ”

“I’m twenty-eight, Sissy. ”

“So? It’s never too late to start over. ” I tried to sound like I meant it.

“Have you been reading church signs lately or what?”

If I had, they would have all been of an apocalyptic bent. They were right—the end was fucking nigh. I swirled a piece of steak in the gravy on my plate to buy myself time to think. “I just want to see you happy, Jake. ”

“On the drugs, I was happy. I never had a bad minute while I was up on heroin. Some people see things, crazy shit, and talk to God. On heroin I was God. That’s hard to beat. ”

“Heh. ” I studied his face, around the downturned eyes, and the full yet frowning lips. Handsome, but deeply sad. For a moment I was mad—I’d bought him this second chance, maybe at the cost of my very soul, and for what?—but I could never be mad at Jake for long. He was my brother.

“Who do you think would be experimenting on you?” I asked him, as neutrally as I could.

“What do you care?” he said, and shrugged. I waited for the waitress to refill his mug before I tsked at him.

“I’m your sister. Of course I care. ”

He stared into his cup before answering. “I don’t know who. But I think I know where. The Armory. ”