Bad Seed

by Gareth Vaughn

  “Fine, whatever.”

  Sean stared at her. She was always so calm and level and he wondered now how she got that way. She ducked down beneath the counter, came back up without the box, and brushed her hair back out of her eyes.

  “Will that be all for you?”

  “Well, I—next time I order my usual, will you remember to give it back to me?”

  “Can do,” said Winter. She looked curious about it but she didn’t ask. “What’s your usual?”

  “Anything coffee with multiple shovels.” Sean didn’t want to believe the Order would come for him—Dane seemed to be acting like they wouldn’t, and he’d know better—but he wanted to have a backup. If his memory was gone, he’d still have everything he’d written up about it, including the crystal as physical evidence. He hoped he’d believe himself if that happened. “Thanks. Really.”

  “Okay then, professor. Have a death-lightful day.”

  “You, too,” said Sean. It kept him from groaning at what had to be something Dane had suggested his baristas say. He then went into the Lair.

  Dane was there, drinking and looking at his tablet.

  “Fucking magic nexus points,” he said. “There’s over a hundred of them here.”

  “I’m not getting involved, remember,” said Sean, and Dane tossed the tablet back onto his desk. “Maybe you should get on some antidepressants. Cut back on the drinking.”

  Dane choked on his whiskey. He set the bottle down hard and coughed while Sean waited.

  “Fuck. Maybe I don’t want you around after all.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to see you drink yourself to death.”

  Dane glared.

  “No,” he said. “We’re not doing this, asshole. No caring bullshit. Take me as I am or get the hell out.”

  Sean shrugged, wanting to deflect from an argument, and wandered around the Lair. He noticed the basin full of ashes was still there in the middle of the floor and blinked at the boobs Ned had drawn.

  “You ever going to take care of that?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Right now, fucker. Want to go out to a scary graveyard?”

  “Cemetery.” Sean paused as Dane glared at him. He wasn’t going to get involved…But this seemed harmless enough. “Sure. What do we do?”

  Chapter 32

  Leaves had blown across Eliza Bartley’s grave, which had grown over somewhat. Frost had melted off by now, and Dane knew Sean was right—better to get this ash back where it came from before the ground froze and he was stuck with it all winter. Dane carried the basin and a trowel, which he passed to Sean.

  “I’m supposed to dig?” asked Sean, making a face. “I’m not even supposed to be here.”

  “Then feel free to fuck off.”

  Sean sighed, accepted the trowel, and knelt to dig.

  “How deep?” he asked.

  Dane glanced back toward Crypt Coffee and the parking lot, but nobody was out visiting graves right now, or bothering to look their way as they shuffled into the building for coffee.

  “Eh, a few inches. Nothing special. She’s not getting up again so it doesn’t have to be deep.”

  “Could you make that sound a little less sexual?”

  “Don’t blame me for your filthy mind, professor,” said Dane, and grinned. His own filthy mind was enjoying the sight of Sean on hands and knees. He didn’t mind admitting to himself—and only himself—that he looked forward to what they might get up to in the upcoming weeks. He suspected Sean was kinkier than he appeared at first glance. And for Dane to be interested indefinitely, there’d have to be something more than the standard.

  “Is that big enough?”

  “Let’s see,” said Dane, and passed over the basin.

  Sean emptied the ashes in, then covered them back up with loose dirt. It all fit, and Eliza was finally laid to rest. For good. Boring, but another thing off Dane’s list of random shit to do. Sean brushed the dirt off his hands and stood.

  “Should we say anything?”

  “Nah. Not like she can hear you.”

  Still, they both stood there awkwardly, neither wanting to leave. It figured. Unless Ned was going to show up, Sean would be going back to his boring paper correcting and Dane would be making an appearance in Crypt Coffee to assure the regulars he was still around, still creepy, still normal.

  That is, until they hooked up later. Dane wasn’t about to admit he’d enjoyed the feel of Sean’s cock inside him, but he also wasn’t going to turn Sean down if he suggested a repeat. Maybe gripe a bit—but only so Sean wouldn’t know how much he’d liked it. Dane liked topping a hell of a lot, but he hadn’t realized his ass could actually feel that good. As long as it was an occasional thing and the professor minded his place—

  “Guess I ought to get going,” said Sean, interrupting his thoughts, which was probably for the best, since Dane could feel himself getting just a little hard. “If you decide to change your mind about food, let me know—now or anytime. I’m not going to light any candles.”

  Dane opened his mouth to reply to that and only managed to swear as something wrapped around his ankle. He was yanked to the ground, wrist exploding in pain as he threw out his hands to catch himself, and the force knocked the air from him.

  “Shit,” said Sean, eyes wide. He stumbled backward, patting himself as though searching for his keys. “I left all my shit at home.”

  Dane looked down to see roots snaking their way out of the ground directly at him. The one around his ankle tightened, cutting off his circulation, and others wrapped themselves around his other foot, up his legs. He reached for his own weapons, first the hunting knife, then his gun. He was only able to grab the knife; the roots were fast enough to snag his hand.

  “What the fuck is going on?” asked Sean, backing up even farther as root tendrils burst from the ground beneath his feet.

  “It’s Eliza,” said Ned, suddenly in the air beside Sean. His expression was serious. “You burned her bones and the trees, but left the roots. That’s where she retreated.”

  “Ned, you fucking…little…wankface,” snarled Dane, hacking at the roots with his free hand. “You’re supposed to fucking tell me about shit like this.”

  “Before or after you told me to fuck off this week?”

  “Shut up about that and tell me what to do,” said Sean.

  Dane wanted to cuss the ghost out, too, for leaving him to the roots, but he wanted more not to die so he focused on lopping off the gnarled bits trying to squeeze the life out of him like a fucking snake.

  “She’s underground and spread out, so you can’t shoot her. Or burn her. Hacking her to splinters seems to be your only option, and you’d have to get close enough for that,” said Ned.

  “I need something that’s not going to get us killed.”

  “Fuck you, Ned, you can help,” said Dane, then shouted something even he knew was incoherent as a thick root snagged his knife hand. Well, now he was screwed.

  Ned flickered like he was considering leaving.

  “Can you get me his gun?” asked Sean. “The knife? Anything? I’ve seen you go solid enough.”

  Ned sighed, but he floated forward. He looked nervous, which irritated Dane as he struggled against the roots holding him. He was about to die and a fucking ghost was hesitant to help him. Ned reached forward and flipped up the back of Dane’s shirt. He pulled out the gun and flung it away, dodging a root that reached for him. As Sean dashed for the gun, Ned came around for the knife that had been squeezed out of Dane’s grasp.

  This time one of the roots made contact with the ghost. A sound Dane had to classify as a shriek but was gut-wrenching to hear seemed to pour out of Ned’s entire body, and he flickered briefly. Dane struggled harder against the roots, now encircling his chest, as Ned made another grab for the knife and floated off with it. He collapsed halfway to Sean, who ran up to him.

  “Ned? Are you—?”

  “I need rest,” said Ned, and faded out, leaving the knife behind.

&n
bsp; “If you’re going to help, do it now,” said Dane, and Sean got to his feet, approached with the knife in one hand, gun in the other. Dane expected Sean to try to free him, but instead he walked away from where the roots were now constricting Dane’s guts. “Oh, fuck you. I swear I will come back to haunt you every fucking day of your life—”

  Sean put the gun up to one of the charred tree stumps and fired downward, sending wood chips into the air and interrupting Dane’s promise to never let him rest if he let Dane die. The roots around Dane shuddered, then increased their grip, squeezing the air from his lungs. He couldn’t shout to Sean if he wanted.

  Sean pulled the trigger again, then moved to the second stump and put two bullets into that one, too. The roots loosened around Dane, and by the time Sean had moved to the third stump they’d completely freed Dane in favor of going after Sean. Dane gasped and staggered away, body throbbing, and Sean dashed away the moment he saw Dane was up, using the knife on any roots that came too close. Dane leaned on a headstone a safe distance away, catching his breath, until Sean joined him.

  “Here,” said Sean, passing back the gun and knife.

  Dane took them, nodded once.

  “Thanks.”

  “Is Ned…?”

  “Should be fine. Just said he needed to rest.”

  Sean nodded, breathed out hard.

  “I wasn’t going to get involved in this anymore,” he said.

  Dane couldn’t help it. He laughed, even though it hurt and it came out sounding more like a wheeze than anything else.

  “Yeah, you can try that. But if you’re going to fuck me, I’m going to drag dirt into your life now and then.”

  “That’s…almost poetic of you.”

  “Shut the hell up. I don’t do poetry.”

  Dane turned and led the way back to Crypt Coffee, taking his time. Sean followed, looking concerned but saying nothing. Dane wanted a drink. Well, more than one. And by the time they’d reached the Lair and he’d sunk into the one chair, Sean didn’t even object to him picking up a bottle. The professor did, however, cross his arms and watch Dane.

  “I’m guessing a couple bullets down into the roots didn’t get rid of her,” he said at last.

  Dane swallowed, enjoying the burn down his throat, and shook his head.

  “Fuck no. But for someone who’s not a Decrypter, it was a good move.”

  “I don’t think I can tolerate such praise,” said Sean, raising an eyebrow. Dane scowled and drank again. Sean was a natural, and it irritated him. He didn’t want a partner, even one so competent and available as Sean. “What’s our next move?”

  “You, professor, go home to your papers. I get to do a bunch of shitty ass research about what I need to do to burn out a clump of spirit-infested roots. Fuck. Maybe Javalynne sells corrosive liquids or some shit.”

  “So I’m out.”

  Dane stared at him. Unless Sean had suddenly changed his mind, that was the idea. No more screwing around with Dane’s Order-level shit. Returning to a normal life. For a brief second, Dane was jealous of that, but then he pushed the feeling aside. He’d never be happy without a bit of thrill in his life.

  “The shit with Bethany’s over—except for the legal matters, and you’re not part of that.” He paused. Dane wasn’t surprised it was difficult to leave this life, but he was surprised Sean found it hard. “Look, I’m willing to try dinner once. No candles. Something with meat in it.”

  “I can do that. You bring the beer.”

  Dane leaned back in his chair. No way was he letting Sean take too much control of the situation. If he started thinking he could call more shots, he’d start thinking he could demand a real relationship. And Dane was not about to let that happen.

  “My at-your-place whiskey’s almost out and I can’t remember drinking that much of it.”

  Sean looked away and ran a hand through his hair.

  “I’ll pick up another bottle,” he said, then turned back to Dane. “Text me?”

  Dane took another drink, drew out the pause. He wasn’t about to make things too easy for Sean. He watched him squirm, then set down the bottle and grinned.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Sean hesitated at the bottom of the stairs like he was turning something over in his mind. Sentimental bullshit, and Dane wasn’t going to listen to it.

  “Some reason you’re still here distracting me?” he asked. Sean took a breath.

  “Good luck on eradicating those possessed tree roots,” he said, then after another pause, “Dane, I—”

  “Oh, fuck off already,” said Dane. “I know. I’ll be careful. You, too. Wouldn’t want you to get a paper cut or anything else fatal.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “See you in a few hours,” said Dane, and Sean gave up trying to tell him whatever it was that had been so hard to just spit out. Dane figured that was for the best. He watched Sean’s ass retreat up the stairs, the sound of the door to the Lair closing.

  Then he turned back to his desk, capped the bottle, and set it aside. Research. Yeah, Dane could do that.

  THE END

  ABOUT GARETH VAUGHN

  Things Gareth Vaughn is terrible at: Whistling. Card games. Writing bios. Not adopting cats.

  Things Gareth Vaughn is okay at: Snow shoveling. Star Trek trivia. Writing stories. Fishing cat toys from under the couch.

  For more information, visit twitter.com/gareth_vaughn.

  ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

  JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!