Bad Seed

by Gareth Vaughn

  “Dane,” said Sean. “Let’s go.” He turned back to Javalynne. “Thanks.”

  Chapter 22

  They fucked again when they got back to Sean’s house. Dane bent him over the bed, knocked open his legs, and took him from behind, pinning Sean’s hands at the small of his back to deprive him of touching himself until Dane was ready. He enjoyed the fact Sean was up for frequent sex and not opposed to a little roughness. It made the relationship easier. Not that they were really in a relationship exactly—Dane couldn’t go so far as to think that of himself—but they were having relations at the very least, and he enjoyed that.

  Sprawled on the bed afterward, Sean moaned.

  “I missed you.”

  “Don’t even start with that,” said Dane. He closed his eyes, not wanting to think about concepts like “future” and “together.” Dane wasn’t surprised Sean would bring shit like this up, considering he was probably feeling his years and really itching to settle down with someone, but that someone was not going to be Dane. No fucking way. His ass did not settle.

  Sean rolled over on top of him, and just like that his arms were pinned under Sean’s knees, what could only be the tip of the hunting knife at his throat. Dane opened his eyes, shocked and fully awake, to see Sean giving him a cold, hard look.

  “Damn, I didn’t realize what it meant to you,” he said.

  Sean breathed out with impatience.

  “It’s not about that. How did I do?”

  “If you’re ever in a situation where you’re stuck fucking someone I’d say you’re definitely capable of killing him afterward,” said Dane, and the disappointment in Sean’s eyes actually upset him. Shit. He couldn’t be feeling anything toward the professor. Not now. Not ever. “Want to let me up and we’ll train before bed?”

  Sean hesitated, which was annoying, since his weight pressing into Dane’s arms was beginning to really hurt. And the position itself was turning Dane on. His cock stiffened beneath Sean, who was also, Dane noticed at a little downward glance, beginning to show approval at their situation. Dane turned his head slightly, pressing against the blade, hoping it would get Sean to move, and the knife disappeared from his neck.

  “You trying to get yourself killed?” asked Sean, rolling off him.

  “You’re heavier than you look, professor,” said Dane, sitting up and rubbing his arms. “And you got bony little knees.”

  “Should have just told me I was hurting you.” Sean set the hunting knife down on the nightstand and glared at the wall. “Can’t you talk to me about anything?”

  “Yeah. I’ll tell you how to fucking defend yourself. Anything more than that I don’t want to get into.”

  “Why? Afraid you’ll like it too much?”

  “Afraid I’ll break your heart,” said Dane, and Sean looked away sharply. Dane hated himself for it, but the action in turn made his stomach sour. He tried to brush it off. “Yeah, see, that. I’m an asshole, but I don’t actually like seeing you hurt.”

  “Because hearing that doesn’t hurt, Dane. You won’t tell me you love me because at some point you might not anymore? Fuck off.”

  He stood, grabbed his bathrobe, and tugged it on harshly. Dane gaped at him.

  “Whoa, who said anything about love?”

  “It’s what you’re talking around,” said Sean, frowning down at the cord as he tied the robe. “Saying you care, you don’t want me hurt. Hell, teaching me to defend myself and not reporting me to the Order—even Lynne gave me an ultimatum.”

  “That’s not—look, Sean, I like you, but what you’re talking about—”

  Sean interrupted him with a bitter laugh.

  “You think love is something so complex? It just is what it is, Dane. You can fight it if you want. Maybe it’ll go away, maybe it won’t. But I can tell you you’re right—I will after a while if you’re too much of an asshole.”

  He went to the door and Dane rolled his eyes.

  “You’re not seriously going to sleep on the couch.”

  “No,” said Sean. “I’m getting a drink. Feel free to stay there if it’s too emotionally challenging to bask in afterglow with me.”

  “I think the afterglow is all gone,” muttered Dane, getting up and pulling on pants. When he reached the counter downstairs and grabbed the free stool Sean had already gotten out a glass for him. They both drank quietly for a while, and Dane tried not to feel like shit.

  This was exactly why he avoided things like spending the night. It always meant too much to the other guy. He got ideas in his head. Here Sean was, thinking Dane actually was in love with him. He shook his head.

  “We need to focus on the witches, not what fucking makes us feel.”

  “Teach me how to use some of the shit, then.”

  “Shouldn’t while drinking.”

  Sean laughed loudly.

  “You’re fucking joking, Dane. You go around half-drunk everywhere with a loaded gun, and I can’t learn to throw a punch inside my own home?”

  Dane relented immediately and took about an hour to show Sean how to properly throw a punch, a few moves to disarm a handheld close-range weapon, a few to avoid someone trying to do the same to him. Eventually they made it back to the bed and collapsed, exhausted.

  He was tempted to join Sean in the shower the next morning, too, but instead took care of himself in the downstairs bathroom while the professor was showering. Dane wanted a clear mind, no agitation, no distractions. He didn’t bother to make breakfast, and though Sean said nothing, there was disappointment in his eyes as they drove to Crypt Coffee.

  “We’ll get you a muffin,” said Dane as he got out of the car in the lot. Sean sighed.

  “I don’t need one. I will want a coffee—I’m barely awake. It’s like you exhausted me last night.”

  “Going to do it again today. Crash course knife throwing practice for an hour, then it’s off to the wicked witches’.”

  Sean groaned and ordered something with three shovels, which Winter repeated with a yawn.

  “Pour yourself something standard on the house and I’ll finish ringing up this asshole,” said Dane.

  She nodded. He slipped behind the counter and added the cost of the weapons to Sean’s cash back, which he pocketed as Sean groaned again.

  “I think I hate you,” he said.

  “Better than the opposite,” said Dane.

  Winter returned with both Sean’s coffee and her own. Since it was very early on Sunday, it was slow, and she took a sip before starting to poke around for gossip.

  “You want one, Dane?” asked Winter. “What your boyfriend’s drinking should wake you up.”

  Sean choked on his coffee and set the paper cup down on the counter. Dane smirked at him as Winter blinked, looking apologetic.

  “Sorry, professor. I think it’s fine. He’s a catch for you at your age, really.”

  “Ouch,” said Sean around coughing.

  Dane moved to pour himself a coffee, gesturing away Winter’s help when she tried to do it for him. Maybe a dose of this would get Sean to back off about their relationship. He fucking hoped so.

  “I can’t believe you wouldn’t think I’m okay with it.”

  “That’s…not it at all, Winter,” said Sean. He glanced around the windowless floor of Crypt Coffee. Only a couple people were out at this time, one on the phone, the other surfing the internet with earbuds in. “Dane and I, we’re not—”

  “Dating,” said Dane, setting his coffee on the counter to cool a little. He enjoyed watching Sean flush from his neck to his cheeks. “Just having a little consensual adult fun. He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Still a good catch,” said Winter. “Not sure for you, Dane. No offense, professor, but you’re a little boring.”

  “Yeah, but he really can take a pounding.”

  “All right, enough,” said Sean. He grabbed his cup of coffee and glared at Dane, who took the opportunity to grin at him. This was turning him on and it should irritate him, but he was alre
ady wondering if he could get away with anything once they went down to the Lair. “She does not need to hear about any of that.”

  “Yeah, it probably violates some school rule,” said Winter. She shrugged. “But considering life is short and overwhelmingly depressing, I think you should take whatever opportunities you can. I can keep quiet about your fleeting love life, professor.”

  “Thanks,” said Sean.

  Even Dane could tell he’d forced the word through his teeth.

  “I got another day dealing with shit not around here,” said Dane as Sean went down to the Lair. “Tell whoever’s next on shift you’re all going to need to manage without me. Got it?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Great, thanks,” said Dane, made sure to lock the door behind him, and descended to snag Sean by the hip and drag his teeth across Sean’s neck before kissing him. Sean pulled away.

  “Damnit, Dane, I don’t need you marking me up where people can see.”

  “Might help us with the witches,” said Dane, not believing it for a moment.

  “So will showing me how to throw these knives you made me buy. The sooner we can get all this witches shit done, the sooner you can get laid.”

  “You sound tense,” said Dane, moving to pull out a target for Sean, who sighed after a moment.

  “It’s nothing. I haven’t done anything all weekend—grading papers or going over lessons or even checking my emails. This isn’t my primary job, and I’m behind on everything.”

  “This isn’t your job at all. Give me one of your knives.”

  “Fine. I’ve got to figure out how to prepare for when Javalynne sends the Order by—”

  “You got a couple weeks still,” said Dane, and Sean dropped it. The lesson went well, considering Sean had never tried throwing knives before. Dane very much doubted any of this would help him defend himself against someone who knew what they were doing, but he wasn’t going to think about that right now. They finished their coffee, collected up their weapons, and drove to the Cauldwells’ cottage.

  The elderly man was sitting on the porch steps when they pulled up. He glared at them, long and hard, and waited until they were halfway to the house before turning and entering.

  “Yeah, we’re definitely welcome here,” said Sean.

  “Relax. We’re here to confront them for a confession, nothing else.” Well, Dane wouldn’t mind a bit of a scrap. He could definitely take two witches, if they didn’t pull out any difficult spells and Sean had the sense to run back to the car until it was all over.

  The door opened and Hazel emerged, enraged and with a staff in her hand. It was studded with smooth stones and shining chips of some kind of rock, and Dane felt his heart pound at the fire in her eyes. He hadn’t gotten in a proper fight in ages—he didn’t count ghosts or possessed things—and his veins pulsed at the thought of one.

  “Be gone,” said Hazel.

  “Not without answers,” said Dane.

  “I’m done speaking to you. Go. Now.”

  “I’m sorry, Hazel,” said Sean, and his voice sounded so calm, so reasonable, she actually looked away from Dane and toward him. “But we know one of you murdered Bethany. Was it you, or your mother?”

  “I already told you we didn’t.” She took several threatening steps forward and set the staff down hard in front of her, a battle stance. “She was right. I shouldn’t have spoken to you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have friggin’ lied,” said Dane.

  Sean hissed his name, but he was moving, inching to the side, putting more distance between himself and Sean. If Hazel was going to start something, he wanted to draw her attack, and she couldn’t afford to take the time to strike Sean first. It would leave her open to Dane.

  “We know it was the apple pips that killed her,” said Sean. “And we know you use their poisonous properties.”

  “Get off our land,” said Hazel, and then the door behind her opened again. Adonia emerged from the house, set a hand on the stone that made up the stair railing, and surveyed what was happening.

  “So,” she said. “You made the mistake of returning.”

  Chapter 23

  “Mistake?” asked Dane, laughing. “It’s not a mistake to call you on your fucking lies.”

  Sean swallowed, pulse pounding hard through him in fear. Everything was happening so fast and Dane was not handling the confrontation well. He was perhaps the most antagonistic he could be, short of pulling his gun.

  Adonia descended the steps, producing a crystal. Dane went ahead and pulled his gun.

  “We’re not here for a fight,” said Sean, not wanting to grab any of his throwing knives and knowing that was fast becoming his only option, unless he wanted to try to hide at all. But he couldn’t abandon Dane to a fight alone.

  “We just want a confession,” said Dane, apparently willing to talk now that his gun was trained on Adonia. “Once we get it, we’ll leave. We’re not looking to handle this the wrong way.”

  “Then you’ll leave,” said Adonia. “No, you’re here for a fight, Decrypter. And if you don’t show us your backs in sixty seconds, you’ll have one.”

  She gestured toward a set of wind chimes, muttered, and they began omitting evenly spaced tinks. Counting down the seconds. Sean looked over at Dane, the sound gnawing at him, but the corner of Dane’s mouth tilted up a bit. This was a dare to him. The fucker was going to get them both killed.

  “Tell us what we want to know and we’ll leave. Which one of you killed her?”

  “You see, professor, this is what I was warning you about,” said Adonia, turning to Sean now. “Is it any wonder we’re wary to talk to Decrypters? They assume guilt and force you to claim it at gunpoint, however false that assumption may be. Why should we admit to a crime we haven’t done?”

  “I warned you, too,” said Hazel. “You can’t trust people like him.”

  “Oh, shut up,” said Dane over the persistent tinking of the chime. Sean’s stomach churned. “All the evidence points to you and you’re saying it’s not you? Bullshit.”

  “We sell apple pip cyanide.” Hazel glared at him. “Anyone can purchase and use our product.”

  “But it was seeds,” said Sean, eyeing the wind chimes. He hadn’t kept count and didn’t know if they had thirty seconds left or ten or two. “It wasn’t an extraction. It was the pips themselves.”

  “Why would we have done that?” asked Hazel.

  “To cover for yourselves,” said Dane. He looked very calm despite the regular tinking. Sean assumed he must be used to this sort of thing, and that was not a welcome thought. “To make us think you hadn’t done it.”

  “Decrypter,” said Adonia, nearly laughing. “It sounds like somebody has set us up. Someone who knows just how intelligent people like you are. I’m afraid they took you in. I suggest you leave before you allow them to manipulate you into a fight you can’t win.”

  “You think my bullets can’t take you two out before you can get off one spell?” asked Dane, but Sean was finished with this. He didn’t want to still be here when the chimes ran out, and he didn’t want Dane to be, either. He walked over and grabbed Dane’s shoulder.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said. Dane tried to shrug him off and Sean turned his back on the witches. The hair at the back of his neck stood on end; it was dangerous, but he did it, and then he leaned close, and hissed in Dane’s ear. “You promised, asshole.”

  “I need a confession,” said Dane, and that’s when Sean noticed the tinking had vanished. He stiffened, certain his back was about to be struck by a powerful spell, but all he heard was Hazel’s voice.

  “Your time’s up. Back to us, Decrypter. Now.”

  Dane glanced over, anger in his eyes, but when Sean nodded slightly, he lowered the gun and slowly turned around.

  “We’re not here for a fight,” said Sean again, loudly.

  When Adonia spoke she sounded closer than before.

  “Then go back to your sad little coffee shop.
I’ll do you the decency of letting you know I will be reporting this, not that you deserve any decency. I’m sure your Order will be in touch.”

  Dane swore loudly the moment they got in his car and sped all the way back to Crypt Coffee, Sean begging him to slow down the entire time. They didn’t encounter any police, which was a relief, and Dane did shut off the car in the lot and stay in it, probably working through his anger before going back inside. The lot held more cars now, more customers were inside Crypt Coffee, and he’d have to put on if not a positive face, at least a better attitude than the kill-everyone one he had now.

  “Can you still—” began Sean.

  “No, I fucking can’t, Sean. I need a confession or they’ll throw the accusation out. And now that the damned witches are going to be reporting us…”

  “Shit,” said Sean. “I guess I don’t have two or three weeks after all.”

  Dane looked up at him abruptly, face blank.

  “Didn’t think of that,” he said.

  Sean put his elbow on the car door and his head in his hand.

  “What do we do?”

  “Who do you think it is?” asked Dane, sounding miserable as he changed the subject.

  “Hazel.”

  “No, it has to be the mother. Fucking Adonia. She’s the matriarch. She has to know.”

  “Hazel’s already gone behind her back once, and that was to threaten Bethany,” said Sean as Dane groaned and put his forehead against the steering wheel. “Good odds she followed through with it. It definitely echoes the way Bethany was murdered—to look like a setup. So why wouldn’t Hazel confess to doing some wrong, in hopes we’d exonerate her of doing more wrong?”

  “Fucking professors,” said Dane. “With your overthinking and shit.”

  “I don’t overthink.”

  “Then you wouldn’t assume I love you.”

  That stung more than Sean wanted to admit, especially after everything that had just happened back at the Cauldwells. He’d pulled Dane away precisely because he loved him, and Dane not only refused to reciprocate, he had to grind it in. Sean opened the car door and got out.