The Archer

by Abigail Roux

  the bar eating a carrot and watching Brandt as if he were a Saturday morning cartoon.

  Brandt got to his hands and knees and dabbed at the cut on his neck gingerly.

  “Are you okay?” Nikolaus asked concernedly as he helped Brandt to his feet.

  Brandt nodded and looked at Carl warily. “Bad Trigger,” he muttered

  accusingly.

  Carl shrugged. “You had it coming,” he said nonchalantly before biting off

  The Archer 381

  Abigail Roux

  another piece of carrot. “Wanker,” he added as he chewed.

  VII.

  REMY sat in the dark hotel room, slumped in one of the two chairs, a glass in one hand and two plane tickets and a joint in the other. He stared at the tickets as if he could make them burst into flame, and like clockwork every twenty seconds, he

  would lift the glass to his lips and take a sip. It never crossed his mind to set joint to ticket and actually set the things aflame. Where was Brandt when you needed him?

  The electronic lock on the door sounded, and the door swung open and

  closed quietly. “That’s not a cigarette I smell,” Gray observed in a flat voice as he walked over to the bed and switched on the bedside lamp. “I don’t see how getting drunk and high and whatever else you’re planning to do helps us at this point,” he informed Remy caustically from where he stood by the bed.

  “It may not be helping you, but it’s certainly making me feel better,” Remy

  said quietly as he glared up at Gray from beneath lowered brows.

  “Dixie, look–”

  “Don’t call me that,” Remy said in a low, dangerous voice.

  Gray stopped in mid-sentence and snapped his mouth shut.

  Remy took another sip of the drink he held and looked back down at the

  tickets. “I’ll be damned if I’m going down there, Boss. You may as well get your

  money back,” Remy said as he tossed the two tickets onto the floor and stared at Gray defiantly.

  Gray looked at the tickets for several long seconds, then back up at Remy.

  “What about Thiago? What about the others? You can just walk away from them?”

  “You bet your ass I can,” Remy growled before throwing back the rest of the

  drink and standing up quickly. His world spun and he flopped back down onto the

  chair inelegantly. Gray snickered and came to kneel in front of Remy.

  “Loss of blood plus four cocktails on an empty stomach make Remy a dizzy

  boy, hmm?”

  “Fuck you, Boss,” Remy muttered as he took a long drag and then held his

  breath as Gray glared at him.

  “As tempting as the offer is, I must decline this time. We have a plane to

  catch.”

  “No,” Remy said in a strained voice before deliberately blowing the smoke

  back out into Gray’s face.

  “Remy–”

  “I’m not going, Gray! Every word he ever said to me was a fucking lie. A

  382 The

  Archer

  Abigail Roux

  mission,” Remy spat. “He… he fucking tried to kill me!”

  “I thought he was protecting you from me?” Gray asked gently.

  “I thought so too, but I loved him, Boss… I… every day was a lie.”

  “I know you love him, doll,” Gray said sadly as he patted Remy’s knee.

  “Oh my God, do you think he was trying to kill me when he shot me in the

  ass?” Remy asked in horror.

  “He shot you in the ass?”

  “That bastard! I’ll kill him!” Remy growled, not taking into account the fact

  that Shawn could have flipped him on the nose and taken him down at that point, if he had been present.

  “I thought you refused to believe it until I showed you proof,” Gray observed

  slyly. Remy glared at him.

  “We’ve been through that, non? I demand proof; you say you can’t give me

  proof without a team of at least five. I say we can do it the two of us, you say we’d need more weapons. We can’t get weapons without Melinda Oliver, and we can’t get

  Melinda without Brandt, and we can’t get Brandt without Shawn, and I want nothing to do with Shawn ’til I have proof! Goddammit! I want proof, Gray! I don’t fucking believe you!” Remy yelled as his brain did a merry dance around his common sense.

  “And here we go again,” Gray muttered as he got up and rubbed his eyes.

  “You’ve lied to me before, why should I believe you now?” Remy asked as

  he tried to stand.

  “Because you do,” Gray said simply as Remy fell back against the chair once

  more.

  “How do you know?” Remy asked obstinately.

  “Because you said you did,” Gray said with another sly smile.

  “The fuck I did… when?” Remy asked suspiciously.

  “Before you started drinking. About two weeks ago, in case you’d like a

  reference point.”

  Remy blinked up at Gray and mulled that over. “Two weeks?”

  “I’m sorry; do I need to use smaller words?” Gray asked mockingly.

  “That means….”

  “That’s right, Sherlock. You’re supposed to be in New Orleans. Tonight.”

  “But–”

  “Remy, you’re a bright kid. The best out there, in fact. Now please tell me it

  was the booze and weed and not your undying love for this man that’s killed that

  The Archer 383

  Abigail Roux

  many brain cells,” Gray requested sarcastically. “You don’t have to let on that you know everything you know. We’ll go to New Orleans. We’ll find the others, propose our plan, and let them choose their own paths from there.”

  “And Shawn?”

  “Keep your friends close, Remy, but your enemies closer, right?” Gray

  advised sagely.

  “Shawn’s not my enemy,” Remy muttered.

  “Oh? Then why don’t you explain to me why–”

  “He was under orders!” Remy shouted angrily.

  He and Gray stared one another down, but considering that Remy was seeing

  two Grays, and they both looked pretty pissed off, he didn’t stand much of a chance in that contest.

  “You know, it would probably make a lot more sense if you weren’t stoned

  out of your mind,” Gray said after a long silence.

  “What were we talking about?” Remy asked as he squinted up at Gray.

  Gray sighed in exasperation and sat down on the bed in front of Remy. “You

  have a couple choices here, Remy. I’ll lay them out for you. First choice; either you believe me, or you don’t. My advice would be to believe me, ’cause really,” Gray

  huffed with a gesture, the meaning of which Remy couldn’t quite identify. “Second choice; if you do believe me, which you should, you then have to decide whether or not you’re going to forgive and forget and live happily ever after with the man you obviously love, or whether you’re going to kill him. Me, I’d opt for Door Number

  Two there, ’cause Shawn’s a bit of a bastard, after all. Third–”

  “Wait, you lost me at Door Number Two,” Remy muttered in confusion. He

  really didn’t need to be this altered at this stage in life. He silently handed the joint over to Gray and watched sadly as Gray snuffed it out and tossed it away.

  “Third choice! If you decide to kill Shawn, I’ll be happy to help. If not, then

  you’ve got more choices.”

  “Hey, Boss?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You really are telling me the truth, aren’t you?” Remy asked sadly.

  “Yeah,” Gray answered regretfully. “No matter which way you cut it, Remy,

  Shawn’s not who he says he is.”

  VII.

  THIAGO listened to the rhythmic beat of th
e music as it drifted to them through the

  384 The

  Archer

  Abigail Roux

  windows. The sun had barely gone down, but the nightlife was already lively. The

  music was soothing and exhilarating and somehow strangely familiar, even though

  Thiago knew he’d never heard it before. He felt at ease and, strangely enough, at home. Thiago decided right then and there, as he lay in the bed with Shawn stretched out next to him, that if ever he were to get out of this business, New Orleans would be a good place to disappear.

  “Did you hear that?” Shawn murmured as he rolled onto his side and looked

  at the closed door warily.

  “Music?” Thiago suggested hopefully. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t

  want to deal with anything sharp or hot or trigger-happy.

  “Sounded like a thump?” Shawn said uncertainly. “A fight, maybe?”

  “Get dressed?” Thiago asked quietly, hoping that Shawn would say ‘no’ and

  they could just remain where they were. Shawn looked at him thoughtfully for several seconds, his fingers playing over the hairs on Thiago’s chest. Finally, he sighed regretfully and nodded.

  “Which one snapped, d’you think?” Shawn asked as he slid out of bed and

  reached for his khakis. “My money’s on Carl.”

  “Nah. Not unless Brandt poked him with a stick of dynamite. I’m betting

  Niko,” Thiago said with a little grin. “Poor guy, he’s due, don’t you think?”

  Shawn smiled wanly and nodded.

  The two men padded down the hallway warily, both shirtless and barefoot

  but still gripping their guns. They paused at the top of the stairs and listened intently, and the sound of soft conversation coming from somewhere on the lower floor

  allowed them both to relax slightly and exchange wry glances.

  Thiago’s eyes drifted to Shawn’s bare torso, and Shawn cocked an eyebrow

  at him. Shawn’s hand slid up Thiago’s chest to his shoulder and wrapped around the back of his neck. Thiago watched Shawn’s eyes wordlessly, noting the spark of desire that mingled with the now-constant sadness, and Shawn met his eyes as he pulled him close and kissed him gently. When he pulled back, Thiago could plainly see the war going on in Shawn’s head. He felt guilty, and probably lost. Thiago patted him on the head for lack of a better action to express his sympathy, and they both smiled and snickered in a most inappropriate manner. Without a word, they both turned around and went to retrieve the rest of their clothing.

  “Hey,” Thiago said softly as he pulled a white T-shirt from his bag and

  twisted it nervously in his hands. Shawn straightened from where he was bent over his own bag and turned to look at Thiago. “If you need to talk, we’re all here,

  y’know.” Shawn looked at him silently and then nodded. “I mean….” Thiago stepped

  forward and took hold of Shawn’s shoulder.

  “Thiago, calm down,” Shawn said with a small smile as he ran a hand

  through Thiago’s hair. “We fucked. It was good and we’ll be doing it again, I’m sure.

  The Archer 385

  Abigail Roux

  I don’t need therapy,” he said with a small smile.

  Thiago smiled in return, though he wasn’t so sure about the truth of the

  statement. Shawn had secrets, that much was obvious. Thiago would hear them

  eventually, one way or another.

  When Thiago and Shawn entered the kitchen, Carl sat at the island, reading a

  newspaper and eating what looked to be a stick of celery from a plate that was full of other such healthy stuff. Brandt and Nikolaus huddled at the other end of the island, intermittently casting furtive glances at Carl and whispering. If Thiago didn’t know better, he would have thought they were scared. That couldn’t be right. The only

  things that scared Brandt were water and fire extinguishers.

  “You two all right?” Carl asked nonchalantly as Thiago stopped in the

  doorway to examine the scene.

  “Yeah,” Thiago answered slowly in a tone that he was sure sounded

  suspicious.

  Shawn stood at Thiago’s shoulder, and Thiago could almost feel the man’s

  eyes burning into Brandt, so intense was his concentration. Shawn appeared to be

  back in the land of the living, momentarily at least, and he obviously thought the scene somewhat odd as well.

  “You’re bleeding,” Shawn observed as he walked past Thiago and circled

  the island slowly. His eyes never left Brandt, and Brandt sat up straighter, looking like a dog whose master had just walked into the room. “What happened?” Shawn

  asked sternly as he eyed each of the three men.

  Thiago felt a thrill go through his body. Was it possible that Shawn was

  really back? He’d been completely unresponsive for almost an entire month. Even

  when Brandt had accidentally set Thiago on fire, Shawn had just sat and watched as Carl and Nikolaus rolled him on the floor. He wasn’t crazy in the sense that he had taken pleasure in watching Thiago be set on fire, like Brandt had. He just hadn’t cared. But now he appeared to actually give a shit about them again.

  “We had a….” Nikolaus trailed off and looked at Brandt. Brandt’s eyes

  widened and he looked at Carl as if for guidance.

  “An episode,” Carl supplied easily as he turned the page he was reading.

  Shawn cocked an eyebrow disbelievingly and Thiago looked at Carl a little

  closer.

  “Did you finally try to kill him?” Shawn asked as he took one of Carl’s

  celery sticks and bit the end off it.

  Brandt slumped dejectedly and Thiago frowned as Carl looked up at Shawn

  blankly. “I didn’t try,” Carl informed icily. “If I had tried to kill him, we’d be cleaning up the puddle.”

  Brandt’s hand went to his neck and Thiago’s frown deepened. “Is this

  386 The

  Archer

  Abigail Roux

  something we need to fix?” Thiago asked uneasily. “Or has it been settled already?”

  “All’s well that ends well, yeah?” Carl said flippantly as he rolled up the

  newspaper and tossed it at Brandt. “Set that on fire, Wally, you’ll feel better.”

  Brandt glared at him for several seconds, but then a slow smile spread on his

  handsome face and he and Carl grinned at one another.

  “I think I need dinner,” Nikolaus muttered suddenly, and they all looked at

  him as if he had lost his mind. “I mean, I could eat, y’know? Food?”

  “Niko?” Thiago said as he pointed his finger and beckoned Nikolaus to come

  to him. Something was definitely amiss, and Nikolaus was the only one in the group Thiago knew he could intimidate into telling him what had happened. “We need to

  talk.”

  “Talk later,” Shawn said authoritatively as he threw the celery stick at

  Brandt. Nikolaus looked at him gratefully. “Food now.”

  “Are you back, then?” Carl asked curiously as he stood and looked at Shawn.

  “Back?” Shawn asked warily.

  Carl took a step closer and looked at Shawn intently. There was something

  slightly different about Carl at that moment, but Thiago couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Whatever it was, Thiago didn’t like it. It gave him goose bumps and made him shiver, as if Carl were the ice to Brandt’s flame.

  Carl hummed noncommittally, and he turned around to look at Thiago

  questioningly. Thiago shrugged, and Carl shrugged back at him. “What are you in the mood for, Gizmo?” he asked as he started walking casually toward the door.

  “Étouffée? Fricassee?” he asked with a smile as he walked out of the kitchen into the private courtyard. “Gator?” he asked with a smirk as he walked out of view and
/>
  finally out of earshot.

  “Is he okay?” Thiago asked no one in particular.

  “He’s just stressed,” Brandt mumbled as he grabbed Nikolaus and dragged

  the smaller man out into the courtyard.

  Nikolaus mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘crazy fuckers’

  as he was swept past, but Thiago didn’t quite hear it. He and Shawn looked at one another blankly before shrugging simultaneously and following.

  Shawn led them to a tiny restaurant called The Gumbo Shop. Dinner there

  was an interesting affair, simply because it went smoothly, to Thiago’s complete and utter shock. There were no fights, no napkins spontaneously combusting, no groping under the table, and no undue attention being paid to the five of them. It was really quite pleasant. They rarely ate out for these obvious reasons, but it seemed they all felt safe here, and Shawn even knew several of the passers-by by name.

  He returned their greetings softly as the five of them walked casually

  The Archer 387

  Abigail Roux

  through the streets after dinner. The people were calling him Sumner, and Thiago

  couldn’t figure out whether the alias was supposed to be Shawn’s first name or his last. Either way, Thiago was enjoying himself. Shawn told the stories and histories of the various buildings and sites as they walked, and Thiago felt ridiculously normal and safe.

  Carl and Brandt seemed to be on good terms once more, and Nikolaus

  bounced excitedly between them like a pinball as they took in the sights and sounds and smells. They walked one block from the restaurant, and Shawn stopped as they

  came upon an entire city block of grass, trees, paths, and noble-looking statues.

  “That’s Jackson Square,” Shawn said in his soft fake accent. It was a decent

  imitation of Remy’s Cajun. Thiago had been a little surprised to hear it at first. He had to keep reminding himself that Shawn apparently spent a lot of time down here, and he had to keep up appearances. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of shit he could get into down here,” Shawn said softly as he looked around.

  They were all aware of whom he spoke, and the French Quarter had been the