The Black Swan Read online

  Only it wasn’t Gabriel. “Ted? Um…happy Thanksgiving? Are you okay?”

  His friend looked like he was about to fall apart. “His last boyfriend was there—apparently his folks had invited him without telling Larry. They made it obvious they preferred him to me. Larry just sat there looking uncomfortable. He let them gush over that…that bear. I couldn’t stay.”

  “Shit.” Noah grabbed Ted’s arm and pulled him into the house. “Go sit down in the living room.”

  “Why’s there blood on your sleeve?”

  “Huh?” He looked down at his arm. Shit. The cut had bled through the bandage. “I nicked myself when I was slicing the turkey.” He hoped Ted wasn’t thinking clear enough to ask how the hell that had happened. “Look, I made some coffee earlier. I’ll go heat it up.”

  “Better add something strong to that.”

  “There’s a bottle of Rock & Rye in the liquor cabinet across from the fireplace,” he called over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen. “Get it, would you?”

  Ted mumbled something, but Noah ignored it and yanked up his sleeve. Yeah, it had bled right through the gauze. He hadn’t thought…He ripped off the adhesive, wincing as it pulled some of his arm hairs out with it. Well, at least it looked like it had stopped bleeding. He doubled up on fresh gauze and taped it down.

  Okay, that was done. Now he’d have to replace the shirt. The last thing he wanted was Gabriel questioning it.

  Noah raced up to his bedroom, tearing off his shirt as he went, and changed into another one, black, so if he started bleeding again it wouldn’t show. It was awkward doing up the buttons, since his elbow didn’t want to bend, but he had it done by the time he returned to the kitchen.

  He had to take the goblet out of the microwave, but once that was done, it only took a minute to pour two cups of coffee and nuke them. He put them on a tray his mom had left behind—it had been Grandma Poynter’s, and Mom had never cared for it. Come to think of it, neither did he.

  He added spoons, milk, and the sugar bowl. From their single date, he knew Ted took his coffee the same way he did.

  His heart still pounded in his chest, and he drew in a breath, ran a palm over his hair, and picked up the tray. Okay, he could do this. He walked into the living room carrying the tray. “Okay, here we—”

  “Good evening, Noah.”

  Noah nearly dropped the tray. “Gabriel? But I didn’t hear the doorbell.”

  “I knocked.”

  “I answered the door.”

  Gabriel and Ted replied at the same time.

  “Well…uh…Hi. Gabriel, this is my friend Ted. Ted, this is my friend Gabriel.”

  They stared at each other. Ted made a sound almost like a whimper and began backing away.

  Gabriel glanced at the tray Noah still held. “I didn’t realize you would be having company.” He sounded tense.

  “It’s okay, I’ll go.” Ted started to walk toward the door, giving Gabriel a wide berth. Or trying to.

  “No.” Gabriel caught his arm, stopping him. “I’ll go.” He walked toward the front door.

  “Gabriel, no!”

  Gabriel kept going, and Noah shoved the tray into Ted’s hands. Vampyres were fast, and he was out the door, letting it shut behind him before Noah could take a single step. Still, Noah hurried to the door and yanked it open. He stared out into the darkness. Even with the streetlamps, he couldn’t see anything.

  Well, that sucked. He shut the door, then made a quick detour to the kitchen, where he dumped the blood into the sink and ran the faucet to wash it down the drain. He didn’t want to do that, but how could he explain it if Ted wandered into the kitchen and spotted it?

  He stared off into space for a moment, picturing Gabriel tipping back the goblet, having Noah’s blood even if it wasn’t from his throat.

  “Oh well.” He returned to the living room.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Noah.” Ted still held the tray. He looked like he was ready to cry.

  “No, it’s okay. I was going to tell him we couldn’t be friends anymore anyway.” He met Ted’s gaze, feeling like he was going to cry himself. “Let’s have our coffee.” He took the tray and set it down on the coffee table.

  Ted opened the bottle of Rock & Rye, poured a hefty shot into both their cups, and handed one to Noah. He did the same for his own coffee. They met each other’s gaze, then sat down side by side on the sofa.

  “He’s so alone, though.” Noah realized he’d spoken aloud and blushed.

  “His hands were ice cold,” Ted murmured, rubbing the spot where Gabriel had grabbed his arm.

  “Uh…well, you know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart?”

  “Good point. I hadn’t thought of that.” Fortunately, Ted let it go at that. “You know what the three of us need? A matchmaker who’ll vet our dates.”

  “I’ve had my fill of matchmakers. Everyone in my family has tried to set me up with someone. And all they succeeded in doing was finding me a good friend.”

  “Who?”

  “You, you dope.”

  That got a smile out of Ted. They both took a healthy swallow of their coffee, but then Noah coughed.

  “Geez, Ted, how much Rock & Rye did you put in here?”

  “Too much?”

  “I’ll say. I mean, I know I’m a bartender, but even I don’t drink this much.” He realized it may have been due to the blood he’d planned to give Gabriel. “You’d better sleep over tonight. The last thing you need is a DUI.”

  “Okay.” For a second Ted’s eyes looked like they were going to cross, and then Noah realized it was his own eyes doing that.

  He shook his head, which kind of seemed to help. “Okay, you’re right,” Noah said briskly.

  “Huh? About what?”

  He gave Ted a look. “What we need is a matchmaking agency. It’ll be totally impersonal, and if the date falls through, we won’t have to hear any pissing and moaning about it.”

  Ted stared at Noah in what looked like awe. “You’re a genius!”

  “If you have as many family members sticking their noses into your private life as I do, you pick up on stuff like this. Okay, now the first thing we need is a name.”

  “Wait, we’re creating the agency?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought we were going to go to one.”

  “We can, but Gabriel…” There were no matchmakers for vampyres. “Anyway, I’ve got a degree in this.”

  “Matchmaking?”

  “Ass. Running a business. Let me grab a paper and pen, and we’ll start making plans.”

  “Noah…suppose your friend doesn’t want a boyfriend.”

  “Then we’ll get him a girlfriend.”

  “He’s bi?”

  “Yeah.” At least when it came to black swans.

  “Okay, then any guys he doesn’t want, I can take a crack at.”

  “Good idea.” And maybe there would be one for him as well.

  “But what I meant was suppose he doesn’t want us to find him a partner?”

  “Are you trying to make things difficult?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “But—”

  “We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

  * * * *

  As the weeks slipped past, Noah waited impatiently for Gabriel to knock on the door of the Golden Circle; he had the whole thing organized and even had a couple of prospects on the line. He knew Gabriel had had both male and female black swans, so while he got his own agency together, he put an ad couched in discreet terms in a national newspaper—if Gabriel accepted a black swan who was local, Noah would have to move away, because he’d be too depressed to remain in Wittington.

  Unfortunately, it had been too discreet, and he’d gotten cosplayers and sleezeballs, who he’d turned down because they’d only succeed in breaking Gabriel’s heart. So he broadened his scope and put the ad online.

  Tired of the bar scene? Ready to give up on well-meaning fri
ends and relatives setting you up on blind dates that don’t pan out? Want to meet that special someone, but you’re having trouble finding him or her? Then let the Golden Circle Matchmaking Agency do the hard work for you. Tell us what you’re looking for in the partner you’d like to spend eternity with, and we’ll find you the perfect mate. Just visit our website, www.gcma.com or dial 681-555-1597 and leave it in our capable hands.

  They got one hit the first time it went live, only he turned out to be perfect for Ted, so it was back to the drawing board for Noah.

  Which was probably just as well, since Gabriel didn’t show up at the Golden Circle in December at all.

  * * * *

  Noah thought and fiddled, fiddled and thought, and he was almost ready to give up in despair. How could he draw the interest of black swans without catching the attention of all the whack jobs in the country?

  He researched vampyre symbols, startled when he came across symbols that represented werewolves. There were werewolves?

  Well, sure. If there were vampyres, then why not werewolves?

  He hit the back arrow a couple of times and scanned the symbols. There. That one was perfect. It was a pair of swans, their heads together and their breasts touching, forming the shape of a heart. If he reduced the size, filled in the heart with red, and made the swans black…Yeah, that could work. He’d slip it into the site logo, and only beings who recognized what the symbol represented would realize they should click on it.

  He hoped.

  * * * *

  January had come to an end, and now it was the first week in February, and Gabriel still hadn’t arrived. Noah knew he had to have gone to the Braddockville Cemetery, but still there was no knock on the tavern door after hours.

  Time drifted by, and a hollow feeling curled in Noah’s stomach. Had Gabriel decided the effort of being friends with a normal was just too much? Was he not coming at all? Or ever again?

  When the knock finally came, it was tentative. Noah rushed to the door and yanked it open.

  “Gabriel!” Oh thank God! He cleared his throat, determined to act cool. “I’m so pleased to see you again.”

  Gabriel raised his head, and the hell with acting cool. Noah wanted to cry out. He’d never seen the vampyre so sad, so tired.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve come to say good-bye, Noah. I don’t think this is a good idea.” Gabriel lingered in the doorway. “Being here with you isn’t fair to either of us. We need different things.”

  “I know. I wish…But that’s not important. Look, come in. I have something to tell you.”

  “That you and your boyfriend are planning a commitment ceremony?”

  “What? No! Why would you think I had a—”

  “The young man you spent Thanksgiving with?”

  “Ted? He’s not my…he’s just a—Never mind.” Noah grabbed Gabriel’s arm, dragged him into the Golden Circle, and closed and locked the door. “Stay right here. I’ll get you a drink.”

  Gabriel sighed.

  “Promise you’ll stay.”

  “I promise,” he said wearily as he walked over to a booth and sank into it.

  “Okay.” Noah would have to move fast; he didn’t have the luxury of time. He caught up a goblet and dashed into the backroom. He kept a spare paring knife there to slice lemons and limes. No time to obsess about the knife. No time at all, not to sterilize the spot or to wrap a tourniquet around his upper arm. The best he could do was roll back his sleeve and twist it around the muscle. Hopefully that would do the trick.

  He got the knife, took a breath, and made the cut. The blood flowed as smoothly as it had on Thanksgiving.

  When it filled about a quarter of the goblet, he reached for a bar towel and pressed it over the crook of his elbow.

  It was a good thing he also kept a first aid kit back here. In a minute he had the cut bandaged and his sleeve rolled down. He picked up the goblet and hurried out to the bar, terrified Gabriel might have grown impatient and left.

  But no, he was still sitting there, toying with a coaster.

  “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

  “It’s all right. I had nowhere to go.” The bleakness in his tone made Noah want to cry out in protest.

  Instead, Noah placed the goblet on the table before him. “Here’s your blood.”

  “Where’s your drink? Aren’t you joining me?”

  “Oh, I…uh…forgot. I’ll get it.” His research—the closest he could come across for a situation like this—told him he shouldn’t have any alcohol when he’d donated blood, so he went to the mini fridge behind the bar, took out a bottle of orange juice, and kept his fingers crossed that Gabriel wouldn’t pay any attention to what he was doing.

  Gabriel’s back had been to Noah, but now he was sitting sideways, watching as Noah poured the juice into a highball glass he’d filled with ice cubes. If Gabriel asked, maybe Noah could convince him it was a screwdriver?

  He returned to the booth, sat down, and tapped his glass against Gabriel’s goblet. “Cheers.”

  “Sláinte.” Gabriel sipped, then paused and stared at the goblet, his eyebrows raised.

  “Is it all right?”

  “I don’t remember you giving me this before.”

  “New shipment.” Noah shrugged. When had he gotten so good at lying? “How is it?”

  “It’s…I’ve had this, I’m certain of it, but not in years.”

  “Well, I’m glad you like it. You do like it, don’t you?”

  “I do, very much.” He took a healthy swallow. “I…this makes me feel better than I have in a very long time.”

  “Cool. I’ll make sure I keep a stock of it.”

  “Thank you.” He looked better. Younger almost. “What did you have to tell me?”

  “I’ve found a black swan for you.”

  “You have?” Instead of getting angry at Noah for poking his nose where it didn’t belong, Gabriel just smiled and took another sip, rolling it on his tongue, savoring it. “Tell me about it.”

  “It’s a woman. Her name is Celeste Laroche, she’s my age—twenty-four—and she’s from Washington State.”

  “Washington State, hmm? That’s a long ways to go.”

  “She’s staying with friends in Charleston.”

  “Well, it sounds like she’s willing to meet me halfway. Is she aware we won’t be doing any espionage?”

  “She didn’t ask, and I didn’t think to tell her. It’s something you can talk about—you know, as you get to know each other?”

  “All right. Give me her phone number, and I’ll get in touch with her. If things work out, I’ll bring her to the Golden Circle.”

  “Great. That’s…great.” So why did Noah feel as if Gabriel had reached in and wrenched out his heart? He took a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “Here you go.”

  * * * *

  Three weeks later, Noah was still wondering if Gabriel had hit it off with the female black swan. Would he bring her to the Golden Circle as he’d said, or would he feel there was no need to see Noah ever again?

  Noah’s emotions were all over the place, and even his brother Chris—the most oblivious person he knew—had noticed it.

  “Man, you need to get laid, little brother!”

  “Bite me,” he snapped.

  Chris just laughed at him.

  At least his parents were in Hawaii, visiting Trav and his vampyre, and his other brothers were busy with their lives.

  Ted was so wrapped up in his new boyfriend, he scarcely paid any attention to what was going on other than to make sure the website was running properly.

  Noah decided to have a talk with Ted’s boyfriend though.

  “Ted’s been hurt before. If you hurt him, I’ll tear your head off and piss down your neck.”

  The guy—not much more than a kid, actually only a few years younger than him and Ted—looked startled, his eyes growing huge. “I won’t, I promise. Teddy means a lot to me.”

  “Okay. Just
remember, I’ll be watching.”

  The guy’s eyes widened even further. “You like to watch? Like a…a voyeur?” A flush covered his cheeks.

  “Jesus,” Noah muttered. “No, not like a voyeur.”

  “Bummer.” The guy covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.

  Noah’s jaw dropped, and the guy giggled.

  The purpose of that meeting had been to warn Sly—so okay, Noah knew his name—not to hurt his friend, not to admit he’d never once considered a threesome, not even in his wild days at Brown, which apparently hadn’t been as wild as he’d thought.

  “Living up to your name?” Noah had given Sly a ferocious scowl. “Just remember what I said.” And he beat it out of there before he could embarrass himself any further.

  * * * *

  By the middle of March, Ted and his boyfriend were still a couple. They even talked about moving in together. Which was great for them. Sly actually seemed like a pretty nice guy.

  However, Gabriel still hadn’t come back, and Noah decided not to obsess over the loss of his friend. He had other things to do—most notably getting the tavern ready for that night’s celebration.

  St. Patrick’s Day was a big occasion at the Golden Circle, because even though the Poynters weren’t Irish, the surrounding neighborhoods were, and Pop always had a good crowd. Noah was determined to do the same.

  He expected nothing less this year, even though it fell on a Thursday. His sister-in-law Lainie brought the rug rats to help him decorate the tavern with cutouts of leprechauns and pots of gold and green crepe paper streamers.

  “No banshees, Noah Poynter!”

  “No, Lainie.” It hadn’t really been a banshee, more like one of the Halloween ghouls Pop stored away in the garret above the tavern. That was where he—and now Noah—kept all the holiday decorations.

  He knew she was really there to discover if he’d had any luck finding a boyfriend, but every time she tried to steer the conversation in that direction, he’d managed to sidestep it. Finally she had to leave to pick up her older kids from school.

  “Thanks for being concerned,” he said as he kissed her good-bye. “I’m fine, really.”

  “I wish I could believe that. Kiss Uncle Noah bye-bye, kiddies.”