Page 77 of Close Quarter
The door led to a closet with cleaning supplies inside. Vasil handed him a large squeegee on a broom handle, then hefted a coil of hose.
"Your Mr. Quint is not well, is he?"
"No." Had he not met Silas, would he even be alive? "Look, I'm sorry about all this." He gestured to the deck, to Silas. "It's a lot to take in."
"It is." Vasil dragged the hose out to a spigot and connected it. "I come from the intersection of practicality and faith. We do what we must, even when the world"--Vasil glanced at Silas--"is not what we might think."
"I wish I had your fortitude."
The look Vasil gave him was almost the same as when he had tried to bribe the man. "You do."
He aimed the hose at the bloody deck and cranked on the water. "Push the puddles toward the channel along the edge."
Rhys did as instructed, and in a short amount of time, they had the deck cleaned. Rhys washed his hands in the cold stream of the hose and dried them on his jacket. This tux he'd never wear again.
With the amount of blood on it, it was fit only for an incinerator.
He and Vasil stowed the gear back in the closet. "I have no proper way to thank you," Rhys said. "Hell, I don't even know what way would be proper."
Vasil smiled. It was a tiny thing, just a slight upturn of his lips, but it lit up the man's face like a firebrand. "If you happen to see an angel, please ask him to pray for me."
Rhys caught himself against the hull."If youhappen to see an angel."Nothing would ever be normal in his life again. The flutter of light- headedness might have been fear or elation. "I'll remember."
They returned to Silas. He gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly that his hands appeared skeletal. Paler and thinner, he looked even more wilted than before they had cleaned the deck and far worse than the night he had nearly died.
"My God." Vasil's voice cracked. "Mr. Quint!"
Silas wasn't glamoured. Rhys caught the waiter's arm before he touched Silas.
Vasil shook him off but didn't reach for Silas again. "He needs to see a doctor!"
"If I were to see a doctor," Silas said, his voice as thin as paper, "they'd cut me apart to see how I work." His eyes were close to black and full of pain. "Thank you, though, for your concern."
Vasil stilled. "What can I do to help?"
"Forget this night ever happened," Silas said.
"Oh, I can help with that." A man's voice-- not one Rhys recognized--snaked out of the night, soft and delicate. Delectable. The air about Rhys felt like shattered ice. He stepped closer to Silas, even as he turned to find the speaker.
A man dressed in a suit as dark as the ocean at night walked toward them from the stern of the ship, hands in his pocket. With his black hair and golden, sun-drenched skin, Rhys would have mistaken him for a normal passenger had he not been smiling. Bright, jagged teeth shone in the deck lights. Inhuman and sharp.
Vasil, too, took a step back and clutched at something beneath his uniform.
Behind him, Silas cursed in a string of guttural Latin syllables.
The vampire clicked its tongue. "And here you called our people barbarians." The creature took its hand from its pockets and curled a clawed finger at Vasil. "Although you did bring me a snack. How kind."
Vasil took a step forward.Shit.Rhys grabbed Vasil's arm and yanked him back. The waiter stumbled onto the box of life jackets, his chest heaving.
"Little Quarter."
The need to move forward, to surrender to that voice shot through Rhys. He twisted his hands into fists, and his nails bit into his palms. The pain cleared his head. He turned to Silas--and saw terror in those eyes.
Silas couldn't stand. While upright, he leaned over the life jacket chest, his arms and legs trembling with exertion. No way he would remain on his feet if he pushed off the chest. He still gripped his sword, though.
"Oh shit."
The vampire chuckled. "You needn't worry, Quarter. Neither you nor your master will die--not tonight." It stepped closer, held out his hand to Vasil. "This one, however..."
