‘We’re going to need a champagne breakfast as soon as you can deliver it,’ Kira said.
‘Certainly. I’ll arrange that now. Here are your key cards.’ The woman handed them to Azrael. He stared at them.
‘Thanks.’ Kira grabbed the cards. ‘How quick can you get the champagne breakfast up there?’
‘I’ll have it sent right away, madam.’ She gave Kira a nod, but her eyes snaked back to Azrael.
‘Great. Less eggs more champagne, thanks.’
The woman gave her another absent nod. Kira declined an offer to have luggage taken to their room, then herded Az into a half-full elevator, shuffling past a young family with a toddler who wasn’t going to give up trying to press all the buttons. The only other occupants were a couple who Kira was pretty sure hadn’t been to bed yet. Judging by the way the guys kept touching each other, there was no sleep on the horizon, either. It was only when Kira saw one of them, a portly suited gentleman with stunningly white teeth, giving Azrael a bemused look that she realised what Az was doing. Nothing. He stood facing the back of the elevator, inches away from the mirrored wall. Kira gave the portly guy a smile she hoped said, He’s wasted, and then tried to get Az to turn around. Which was not going to happen. He was giving the mirror a stare that could bore holes in it.
Kira gave up. Weird shit happened in this town; a narcissist wouldn’t cause a raised eyebrow. The elevator doors closed, cringe-worthy music started, and up they went.
‘Can you press level twenty-five, please?’ she said.
‘Oh, nice floor.’ The portly man’s partner – also suited but more bookish, less Wall Street – gave her a wink and tapped the twenty-five. ‘We were up there last year for our honeymoon. I’m not worth it this year, apparently.’
The portly man gave him an indulgent smile and a light tap on the backside, then nodded to Azrael.
‘Is he okay?’
‘Oh yeah,’ Kira said. ‘Fine. Jetlag and a couple of early gins. You know how it is.’
The guys laughed that too-hard way people do when they are drunk. Kira tried again to shift Azrael, but he was boulder heavy. He leaned in closer to the mirror and pressed his fingers against his reflection. The guy didn’t know what a napkin was for, no surprise his reflection had him stumped, but it was going to be awkward if they got to their level and he wouldn’t leave the elevator. At least he wasn’t parroting everyone. The elevator stopped, and the young family got out. The little girl waved to everyone as her father tried to pull her out of the elevator.
‘Goodbye.’
Kira didn’t find miniature humans appealing in any shape or form, but it caught Azrael’s attention. He lifted his hand and mimicked her wave with a much slower one of his own. Only, he wasn’t looking at the little girl. He was looking at himself.
‘Goodbye,’ he said, barely above a whisper. ‘Goodbye.’
He pressed his head against the glass and made another sound, a hell of a lot like a sob. The elevator was getting way too small. The guys got off two floors later, and she assured them she didn’t need any help with Az. He’d be just fine. They told her their room number, and the bookish one blew her a kiss, then Kira and Az were alone. In the end she had no trouble getting him out of the elevator. He turned from his reflection of his own accord. Kept his head down and eyes on the ground all the way up the hall and in through the double door of their suite.
‘What’s going on, Az? You doing okay?’ She ran her fingers over the tranq band, pushing the levels down, but the little mechanical bastard wasn’t having it and beeped at her. ‘Do as you’re told, asshat.’
Az was too spacey, even more of an airhead. And that sob. What the fuck was that about? She needed to let him think straight for a moment. Kira manoeuvred him down onto the white leather couch forming an L-shape in the enormous lounge room. The widescreen TV on the wall was enormous, too. Practically a mini cinema screen. Kira pulled off the wig, scratching hard at her scalp. Az sat on the edge of the couch, eyes unfocused, a mute zombie. Blake got that look sometimes. A lot of times, actually. Kira tilted her wrist, considering the matte silver bracelet. Maybe Blake was getting off with these things. Had to be something up with her. Blake Beckworth didn’t usually give her little sister multimillion dollar toys to play with.
‘Okay, Az. Wakey wakey time. Come on.’ Kira flicked on the TV, and it sprang to life on a cooking show. Roast lamb. ‘Az, look. Look at this. Yum. Roast lamb.’
Jesus, she sounded like a moron. And being vegetarian, it made her want to puke. Az didn’t show any appreciation for her sacrifice. He just stared at the screen. She’d seen vacant expressions before, plenty of them in the clubs, but this was over and above. He wasn’t just vacant. He wasn’t there.
Kira knelt on the floor in front of him. The pale mauve rug beneath her was sublimely soft and shaggy. Probably had had more naked bodies rolling on it than the bed. Oh god, what she wouldn’t do to just be mindlessly fucking right now. Blake thought she was a sex addict. Nope. Kira was just addicted to not thinking too hard.
‘Right. I’m just going to interrupt your silent party for one, okay.’ She reached for him. ‘Don’t slam me in the face or anything.’
She waited a second for a reaction. Nothing. So she laid her metal hand, still clad in its faux skin, over his, bracing for impact.
Less impact, more delicate brush this
