“How about this? If you go with me on Sunday, I’ll do something with you on Saturday. Or tonight. What do you want to do? Anything.”
“Anything?”
Sully laughed uneasily. “Well, I can veto if it’s something like bestiality. Even I have my limits.”
“Not bestiality.” Chaz ran his hand up and down Sully’s thigh, his gaze intent. After a moment of excruciating tension, Chaz barely whispered, “You know Yiddish, right?”
“Oh. Well. Not quite. I looked into it more after you asked me the first time and Yiddish is far more German than I thought. I mostly know Hebrew, and really, I’m just passable. I took a theology class in school and one of John’s buyers for his business was Hassidic. So I talked to him and his brothers a lot. Why, though?”
“Have you ever been to a synagogue?”
“Yeah, a couple times. With John. He was Jewish but nonpracticing. He only went when his business partners went.”
“I’m half-Jewish,” Chaz said. “I know I told you already, and truthfully, I don’t know what I believe, especially with what has happened to me. I never really practiced anything when I was with my family, because they had their separate traditions and what we did was more a mix of my mom’s Caribbean culture and my dad’s practices whenever holidays or special occasions came around. But there are certain things I miss, you know?”
“I can imagine. Do you miss a synagogue in particular?”
“No, not really. I know there was one my father used to go to, but I never went past a certain age. Maybe three or four? My mom never went either. She and I would hang back and make food for dinner, then talk to my father when he returned. I… I don’t know what I’m asking.”
“You don’t have to know anything for sure. But if this is what you want, then we can go.”
“We can?”
“Yeah. That’s not something I would veto. Isn’t it Shabbat too?”
“Yes, at sundown.” Chaz smiled and nodded. “Sometimes I think about it during times like this. My dad wasn’t strict about many things, but he never worked on Shabbat. As soon as he came home on Friday, he wouldn’t turn the car on. He used to make me take the bus whenever I wanted to go to a concert on a Friday night. I used to hate him for it, but now… I respect it.”
Their bodies had separated as their conversation grew more serious. Sully reached to take Chaz’s hand into his own and sat up straighter. “Is this what you want to do? Go to a temple or synagogue?”
Chaz nodded. Sully was surprised when Chaz kissed every knuckle on his hand, as if Chaz was trying to plead with him.
“We can go, then. This is easy, Chaz. Very, very easy.”
Chapter 30
AN HOUR later, they arrived at the steps of a synagogue called The City Shul. The evening service hadn’t started yet, so Sully was relieved not to have missed anything vital. They entered the front hall and found the head coverings, along with some embroidered covers. Chaz’s eyes lit up. He was probably remembering the same things from his youth. It was almost like magic watching the feelings flit across his face.
“You know to pick up one of these, right?” Sully put on a kippah and watched as Chaz did the same. Chaz’s scruff made Sully want to kiss him right there, but his gaze was caught by the dozen pamphlets at the front of the service hall. He picked up a couple but didn’t have a chance to read them before a few more people came in and hurried them to the back. They took the first bench that was empty and sat down. The rabbi walked to the front and waited for more people to be settled.
“Welcome all,” he said in English. After some more welcoming blessings and updates about the community, the rabbi switched to Hebrew. He talked with his hands as he gestured toward the passages in the Torah they’d be discussing.
Sully remembered the rituals in a rush. It had been so, so long since he’d been in any kind of synagogue. John went to a temple, something a little less conservative, and only for big holidays or special occasions in his family. Sully was so lost in his own memories of John’s cousin’s Seder that he didn’t notice the rabbi begin.
After about ten minutes of the rabbi’s address, Chaz leaned into Sully’s space. “Can you follow what’s going on?”
“Yeah. More or less. He says page numbers before he reads out. There’s a Torah here in front of us, so we could….”
“I don’t know if I could follow.” Chaz reached for the Torah and opened up a page but seemed overwhelmed by the text and the language it was written in. “Can you tell me what they’re saying? I haven’t…. It’s been too long.”
“Of course.”
Sully clasped Chaz’s hand over the Torah. Maybe it was poor form in this place, but Chaz seemed to need it. After concentrating hard, Sully found the page number. He reiterated the passage they were at in a hushed whisper, then rehashed the rabbi’s words. There was a delay between his translations each time, but it was fitting.
When the rabbi mentioned that they were approaching Yom Kippur, and they should be thinking about atonement, Sully’s pace slowed. Chaz didn’t seem to notice; he slipped into a pensive stare that struck Sully with its familiarity. Chaz was folding into himself, thinking hard about his life—but Sully didn’t need to rush in and save him from his memories. Instead Sully started to think about his own. Had he forgiven people? Was that the next step in his twisted life? Confess all your fears. The monsters take shape. And then you forgive the monster? No, Sully didn’t like that. He didn’t want to forgive the monsters who had ruined his life.
Perhaps monster is the wrong word, though. Monsters weren’t metaphors but real people. Chaz Solomon was a menace on paper, but next to Sully he was a scared kid trying to find a place where he belonged. Sully knew what that was like.
What’s that expression? If you keep doing the same thing expecting different results, that’s what makes you crazy. Chaz Solomon kept trusting people, even when all signs pointed to not trusting them. He seemed to keep seeking out more people to trust, hoping to somehow break the hold of everything bad that had come before it. Sully knew from Artie that people who had suffered trauma often repeated the event in order to rewrite it. They needed to keep going back to the scene of the crime until a different result was produced. Deep down, Sully knew that was why he stayed in sex work. He was so determined to make sex enjoyable for himself and other people, and not some tool used to break people down.
Sully ran his hand up and down Chaz’s arm. Chaz stirred or flinched each time Sully repeated the Hebrew word for atonement. Chaz needed to fix something. He needed to restore justice to those suffering in the gangs and cartels because it had almost been him. Because he left Nat there and ran away to save himself.
But Nat’s not dead. Sully remembered Trina’s words with blinding precision and the World tarot card with Imogen at the center of it, along with the four sisters providing safety. It could be a lie, Sully thought. Nat could still be dead and Sully didn’t want to tell Chaz what he’d heard from Trina in case he was wrong. He didn’t want to damage that trust again, because it seemed like the best gift he’d ever been given.
The words from the rabbi blurred together in Sully’s mind. Life was so difficult. But this—right now with Chaz at his side—was easy. Chaz didn’t even ask him to repeat the lines anymore. He listened too, basking in whatever they were given.
Near the end of the service, Sully felt better. Lighter. As if they’d done something good for the day, and the Shabbat wasn’t even over yet. When the service ended, a female rabbi and a man said blessings to them as they left. Then Sully’s hand went back into Chaz’s outside the door.
“Was that okay?” Sully asked. “You were quiet for a lot of it.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About? Can I ask?”
“Yeah, you can. Thank you.” Chaz was quiet again, but Sully held on. He was slowly learning to read his silences not as aggressive—like most men he’d come across—but contemplative. “You’re staying with me again tonight? Even if I’m
not in need of healing anymore?”
“Yes,” Sully said. “I think someone may be using my room at Artie’s.”
“Oh.”
“But I want to stay with you. At least until we go on Sunday, right?”
“Right,” Chaz said, smiling. “I guess I’m definitely going for dinner now, huh?”
“Yeah, but Shabbat isn’t over. So tell me what else you want to do.”
They came to a red light and Chaz became quiet again. Sully wondered what other stories were there, underneath his skin. Was he thinking about his dad? His mom? Where was Chaz’s family now, and how could they leave their son like this? He was a vampire, sure, but that didn’t mean he was a disgrace. Being a vamp didn’t make him a better person, but it didn’t make him a worse one either. Chaz was just… Chaz.
And Chaz Solomon was such a beautiful name.
“I think I want to do nothing,” Chaz said.
“We will do just that,” Sully said, squeezing Chaz’s hand again.
When they got to the apartment, doing nothing meant eating cake in bed. Then, when Chaz seemed restless, he asked Sully to put on music.
“The opera you were listening to before. It’s stuck in my head now.”
“Good. Do you want me to try and put it on your computer, so we can listen through the speakers?”
“No. In bed. Just the phone.”
They stripped off their pants but kept on T-shirts and boxers, and they slipped under the covers. The phone was between them, their bodies turned toward each other so they could listen. Chaz grabbed Sully’s wrist, but that was it for a long time. They listened to the opera through once completely before Chaz went to kiss him. Sully kissed back easily, his mouth parting and his body opening to Chaz’s touches. He was so, so warm and ready to go, but they didn’t do anything but kiss that night.
It seemed to be all Chaz needed, and so, it was all Sully needed too.
Chapter 31
CHAZ FIDGETED with his hands as Sully knocked on the door to Artie’s place. A familiar pair of marble eyes glanced out from the door’s slot. Chaz could already tell Tabby was smiling, as if she’d missed Sully.
“Hey, Sully. Anyone with you?”
“Yes. Ch-Chip?” Sully turned toward Chaz, question in his eyes.
“Chaz is fine. Artie knows my name now anyway, right?”
Sully nodded and turned back to Tabby. “Chaz and I are here. Artie and Tom know.”
“It’s Trina today,” Tabby said, unlocking the door in a hurry. She ushered Sully into her arms and welcomed him home. When the greeting was done, she smiled at Chaz and asked if he needed blood.
“Maybe in a little while,” Sully said. “Not to answer for you, Chaz, but I’m pretty sure we’re already late for Artie’s workshop.”
“Yeah, but those things never start on time. Go in the basement, the place next to her research lab. You can go down since I don’t think you need pass codes. I have to stay up here in case we get people.”
Sully nodded and asked Tabby a few more questions to find out who was around and who would be working. Trina was one of the few people staying back for customers, which filled Chaz with relief. As much as he liked her, the idea of having dinner or going to a workshop with her sitting next to him, given their past, still made him feel queasy. But that’s probably just because you’re going to talk to Artie, knowing everything that you do now. Chaz still felt like an outsider in all of this. And ultimately, the bad guy. Part of a police force that criminalized these people instead of helping them.
Jack had tried to call him the day before, but Chaz hadn’t answered. He hadn’t listened to the message either. He would get hell for it when—if—his suspension was ever lifted, but Chaz wasn’t thinking in those terms anymore. Work seemed like a faded photograph whenever he was with Sully. Chaz checked his phone when they stepped into the elevator, expecting to see more messages from Jack, but watched as the signal dropped.
“Oh.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just… no phone signal.”
“Who you going to call? Everything you need is right here.”
Chaz chuckled but didn’t feel better.
Sully took a step closer to him and linked their hands. He wore a band T-shirt with his jeans, along with his red leather jacket. “Nervous?”
“Hard not to be, you know?”
“You’ll be fine.”
Chaz smiled. His skin felt stiff, and he realized he never shaved. He cupped his chin to see how bad the stubble was. How did he not notice this until now? Not even when he was getting dressed in his collared shirt and semiformal dinner jacket did he think to shave. “I’m a mess.”
“No, you’re fine.”
“Artie won’t mind? This is me basically meeting your mother.”
Sully smiled. Soft and sweet. Chaz wanted to pin him to the elevator door. “Yeah, it is. But I assure you, she’s kind. She doesn’t care what you look like, only how you treat people. Not just me. So… be kind today, okay? A lot of these people are just getting out of bad situations. Be nice.”
“I am nice.”
“I know,” Sully said. “I’m reminding myself too.”
When the elevator landed, they walked down a hall that appeared to be made of stone. Considering this, it was surprisingly well lit with actual gas lamps and not candles. The floor was carpeted, and Chaz was pretty sure they passed a heating vent at one point. Sully led him to a room at the end of a hallway. Seats were filled by at least forty workers, men and women, all varying types of supernatural creatures. Sully took Chaz to an empty spot in the back without much disruption. Artie stood at the front in one of her long blue dresses. Her curls were pulled back behind her shoulders. She talked loudly and lucidly. Everyone seemed completely enthralled.
“There are so many people,” Chaz said. “How will they all fit here?”
“Not everyone will stay,” Sully whispered. “Some are still deciding; some will go to different houses. But we needed to gather as many of them as possible since this perp affects them the most.”
Artie was in the middle of explaining standard responses to trauma and how best to interpret reactions without guilt.
“I know not everyone likes to talk about Bad Things,” Artie said, emphasizing each word, “but I think it’s important. We all get stressed-out. We all enter into situations that we think are going to be okay, but then aren’t. This happens. It’s part of life. Sometimes we freeze when that happens and we beat ourselves up after. But freezing is a perfectly natural response when fight or flight isn’t possible. It’s part of that human or creature instinct. And it’s fine. But we want you to, in those moments when you freeze or even before then when you think you may be in danger, to have a signal. One that tells people around you that you’re not okay, so they can come and help you. Let me give you an example: I tell my room neighbor that whenever I mention the sport tennis and how much I love it, I’m actually with a bad date and she needs to come and save me. Tennis doesn’t come up that much in conversation, so there’s not much risk of me accidentally saying it. But a friend who’s geared to recognize symptoms of distress will get there and help me—without the date being forewarned. Can anyone else give me examples of situations like this?”
A woman in blue raised her hand. “If I start to talk about my hometown, but list it incorrectly.”
“That’s good too. Conversation cues are big. But what about something that’s not vocal?”
“Clothing,” a guy in a middle row said. “Or jewelry? Something that’s visual, so if I walk by someone’s room or if I throw something on my doorknob, like a sock or a shoe that I can’t stand, people know that I’m not 100 percent into what’s going on inside.”
“Excellent idea! These are all good ideas.” Artie went on taking suggestions and examples of how to signal distress, then went through a lengthy recommendation of how to get out of a situation when it came. “If you’re the person intervening, never go in alone. Always sign
al to someone else and then be sure that you’re protected to the best of your ability. Please note that being protected doesn’t always mean a gun. It means knowing how to subdue someone. We have lots of stun guns here and they work well in extreme cases. You are allowed to use one—but we ask that you don’t have one at all times since it’s more likely, if a client thinks we have these around, they will try and find it to use them on you.”
“What if we’re being attacked and don’t have one?” the woman in blue asked. “What do we do next?”
“Good question. In my house there is a mirror in every room. The mirror is flimsy because it’s made of two-way glass. I’ve done that—not to watch you—but so the mirror can be used as a weapon. It’s also another way to see all exits around.” Artie picked up a mirror from her table and held it out to the crowd. When she broke it in two, the crowd gasped. She gave instructions on how to hold it properly without being cut. “Every single room has one of these under the bed. Just so you know.”
The crowd made pleased noises at this. As Artie set down the mirror pieces on the table, she caught light in the reflection. Then Chaz realized it wasn’t light in the reflection—but her. She became light when she was caught in the mirror.
Artie doesn’t have a reflection, Chaz realized, absolutely stunned. She’s a myth.
Chaz barely heard the rest of the meeting. The only signal that it was over was the sudden burst of applause. People rose from their seats and filed out of the room, but Chaz turned to Sully. “Did you see that?”
“See what? I was exactly where you were. We saw the whole thing together, Chaz.”
“I know but with the mirror. Artie doesn’t have a reflection.”
“Oh. Oh.” Sully’s eyes went wide. He smiled, instead of being horrified. “I understand now.”
“What do you understand?”
“I’ll tell you at dinner,” Sully said, his grin lingering. He rose from his seat and made his way out of the room, following the crowd to another foyer as he did. “We need to do some other work now. Question time.”
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