No. No! Devyn would not die. There was no longer any question about whether to embrace or suppress. Dallas would embrace and ensure his friend lived.
"Wake up for your sweet Devyn." Another pat, this one harder. "That's a good boy."
Slowly Dallas blinked open his eyes. He was still panting, still sweating, but was no longer in pain. Devyn loomed over him, concern darkening his usually bright eyes. Just as Dallas had seen him in his first vision, Devyn was covered in blood. It stained his skin, his clothes.
"Okay?" he managed to work past his spasming throat.
"Me?" The otherworlder looked surprised by the question. "Why—oh. The blood. No worries. It's not mine."
Thank God. "Vampire decide ... to eat... in front... of you?"
"Nothing like that. I'll explain in a bit. You want to tell me what's going on with you?" Not yet. "How'd you ... get in?"
"I peeked over your shoulder last time you disabled your alarm. Memorized your code." Smiling despite the pain, Dallas rubbed his temples. "You are such a good friend."
"I know." Devyn helped him to a sitting position and remained crouched in front of him. "I hope you don't mind, but I sent your woman on her way. She was shaking you, screaming for you to wake up, and pissing off your neighbors."
Dallas propped his elbows on his knees, hating the way he trembled. "Not safe for her to walk the streets alone."
"That's why I called her a cab. And be prepared. If you see her again, you're going to get an earful. First she passed out when she saw me, then she woke up and threatened to call the police. I told her if she was going to hang around you, she'd have to get used to seeing me because fainting at the sight of my beauty was going to piss you off, and I'd rather cut out her eyes than piss you off."
"And that didn't go over well? Women. I'm sure the coat of blood you're wearing had nothing to do with her reaction to you."
Devyn searched his face. "Your color is returning. Good. You're going to be fine.”
“I'm the psychic, but yeah, you're right."
"I'm going to shower. Make us a pot of coffee—real, not artificial, if you've got any of the stuff I bought you left over—and we'll talk when I'm done." He didn't wait for Dallas's response but stood and strode toward the back of the apartment.
Dallas, too, stood but he stumbled his way into the kitchen. He had just enough beans for a full pot. As he prepared it, he anchored his phone to his ear and dialed Mia.
She answered on the second ring. "Dal, you shit, this better be good. It's my night off.”
“Yeah, it is. Good, I mean. I need a sketch artist as soon as possible.”
“Why?"
"I'll share the details the moment I understand them."
"Uh, you tell me or you don't get a damn thing." Jack, their former boss, would have agreed with Dallas right away. Female bosses sucked. "Think of this as an early birthday present, then. It's all I want."
A sigh crackled over the line. "Bastard. Your place or the station?"
Okay. Maybe female bosses weren't so bad. Jack would have told him to f**k himself for his present. "My place."
"Two hours?”
“Perfect."
"Fuck you, I'm going back to sleep. Call me when you're ready to talk, and that better be no later than forty-eight hours, or I swear to God I'll kick your ass into next week just like Jack always threatened." Click.
Dallas was grinning as he slid his cell over the counter, the scent of caffeine thickening the air, frivolous and decadent. He gathered two cups, the last remaining scoop of real sugar, and a can of dried milk. Devyn liked his caffeine sweet, but refused to drink anything with synthetics. Dallas would have called him a girl, but Devyn would have viewed that as a compliment.
The smell of dry enzyme soap drifted to him, alerting him to Devyn's arrival. He turned. And sure enough, there was his friend, bent over and resting his elbows on the counter. The blood was gone, his hair perfectly combed. He wore Dallas's favorite "Size Dental Appliances Here" with an arrow pointing down T-shirt and a pair of his jeans.
"You gave me that shirt as a gift. Taking it back?"
"I'll return it. It's just the only thing you own that's made from real cotton. My skin deserves the best."
"You're such a snob."
"I'd say I'm smart for treating myself with luxuries, but whatever. Now, tell me what the hell was going on with you when I walked in."
The coffee machine beeped, and Dallas filled the two mugs. He dropped a spoon in Devyn's so that the otherworlder could stir his own shit and handed it to him. "I had a vision and was trying to sort through it. Must have gone a little too deep into my brain."
"I guessed that. What I want to know is what you saw. And why have Mia send a sketch artist over?"
"You have ears like Mishka, man." The girl could hear a feather land on a mattress from two miles away.
Devyn shrugged. "Start talking."
Dallas leaned back against the counter and sipped at the hot java for strength. First, he told his friend about the blood.
"That's nothing," Devyn said. "I killed a human."
Dallas blinked at him, at the casual way he admitted to murder. "Wait. I couldn't possibly have heard you right. Did you just say you killed a human?"
"Yeah. He was a slaver. Tried to abduct Bride to sell her on the black market.”
“And you killed him? Dude, you've bought women on the black market."
Again Devyn shrugged, but there was something in his eyes. Something Dallas had never seen before and couldn't place. "There are others out there who know about her, but no matter how much I tortured him, he wouldn't give me their names. Probably because he knew he was going to die either way. Either that, or there weren't actually any others. Only time will tell."
There wasn't an ounce of remorse in his friend's tone. No one could kill as ruthlessly or as uncaringly as Devyn. The man saw each of his actions as a necessary duty and never looked back, never regretted. Maybe that was why they got along so well. Dallas had enough regrets for both of them.
"Mia know?"
"Not yet, but she will. I left the guy's head on Main."
Dallas's eyes widened. Devyn had made the announcement while lifting and studying one of Dallas's small black computer maps. "Tell me. Do you polish your titanium balls every night before bed, or do you just hang them in your trophy case?"
"Polish," Devyn said deadpan, tossing the map aside. "Damn. Mia's gonna go ballistic. You know that, don't you? Still the otherworlder remained unconcerned. "I'll handle her."