Querry stood and punched a hole in the yellow plaster wall. “Are you telling me I killed my father?”
“Querry, Starling had no family. You might not be related to him by blood. Maybe he just respected you and had no one else to inherit his fortune.”
“Fuck!” Querry shouted, pressing his fists against his forehead as he paced back and forth. “How am I ever going to know? He did look a little like me. What if he was my father? Why wouldn’t he tell me? Why would he do this to me? Frolic? Reg? Tell me!”
“I don’t have the answers to give you,” Reg said.
“Reg, I could have known my father.” Querry sank back down to the floor and hugged his knees. “He was so much like me. He was, wasn’t he? Reggie?”
Reg just shook his head. He could see parallels between his lover and the late Baron Starling: passion, determination, idealism, and a certain recklessness. There was a slight resemblance, especially in their coloring. Then again, it all seemed like an impossible coincidence that they’d both ended up in that tiny Thalacean port. Unless Starling had been watching Querry. If he had, how had he allowed Querry to suffer through the childhood he’d endured?
Querry stood and went down the hall to their bedroom. Reg and Frolic followed, both of them glancing at each other, each hoping the other might suggest a way to ease their friend’s anguish. They stopped at the door as Querry collapsed on the bed and curled into a ball. He pulled a small, leather-bound book from inside his shirt and caressed the spine.
“Querry?” Frolic asked. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Not now, beauty. I think I’d like to be alone.” He rolled away from them, clutching the book to his chest, and would say nothing else.
THE FOLLOWING evening, after dinner, while Reg, Querry, and Frolic sat on the veranda beyond their dining room, Reg heard a knock on the door. Querry flinched and said, “What now?”
“I’ll go,” Reg offered. He opened the door with a deep dread, but it dissipated when he saw it was only Jean-Andre, dressed in a beautiful, pale blue suit and holding a few bottles in a basket. Reg invited him inside, and they returned to the terrace just as the sun fell below jagged mountains to the west. Frolic lit the glass lamp and candles on the table.
“My friends, you will never believe what I’ve found.” He brandished the dark glass bottles. “Absinthe. I did not know one could acquire it here, and I thought we might enjoy a glass or two together to celebrate your recent good fortune, Baron Starling.”
Reg crossed his arms. “How could you have found out so soon?”
“People talk in this city the same as any other, if one knows where to listen.”
Reg doubted it was so simple, but with all the conflict and tension in their household over the last day, he didn’t want to argue with Jean-Andre. It hardly mattered how he’d found out, anyway.
“Shall we have a drink?” Jean-Andre asked again.
Querry’s eyes looked dark, but he must have realized Jean-Andre meant no harm, so he nodded. “I think I might quite like that, actually. Let’s go into the sitting room. I’ll find some glasses.”
Reg stoked the small fire in the hearth, and all of them settled into the comfortable chairs, with him and Jean-Andre sharing the small sofa. Querry lined three glasses up on the low, wooden table, and Jean-Andre poured the absinthe over the sugar cubes. “To the Baron of Greymont and Sele, Lord Querrilous Knotte-Starling.”
“No,” Querry said. “I don’t want to drink to that.”
“Very well, my friend,” Jean-Andre said. “What would you prefer?”
Querry swirled his drink in his glass and stared at the milky green liquid, deep in thought. “How about to death? It’s the only thing we can really depend on, isn’t it? Everything else is just a distraction while we wait for it.”
“Oh, Querry,” Frolic whispered, rubbing his back.
“Let’s forget the toast and just drink,” Jean-Andre suggested.
“Good idea.” Querry raised his glass and finished the absinthe in a few large gulps. “Mind if I serve myself?” he asked, reaching for the bottle again.
“Not at all,” Jean-Andre said.
Querry slopped the greenish liquid into his glass, filling over half of it before adding the water. Reg sipped at his drink and winced. It was very strong, and it burned his throat and nostrils. The next sip he took wasn’t as bad, though, and before he knew it, he’d finished his first glass. Jean-Andre slid it out of his hand and prepared him another.
“Would you like to try it, Frolic?” Jean-Andre asked.
Frolic looked uncertain, but Querry and Jean-Andre encouraged him until he finally agreed and took a tiny sip from Jean-Andre’s glass. As soon as the intense liqueur hit his tongue, Frolic screwed his eyes shut and grimaced dramatically. He cast his glance from side to side, looking for somewhere to spit it out. Just as he was about to leap from his chair, Querry, who’d finished his fourth glass, grabbed Frolic by the shirt and pulled Frolic to his mouth. He kissed Frolic hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the liquid as it drained from Frolic’s mouth. They continued kissing sloppily, wetting each other’s lips and flashing their tongues.
“Mon dieu,” Jean-Andre said under his breath, squirming on the sofa for reasons obvious to Reg.
When Reg looked over at the other man, his hair seemed much redder than it had before, bright, glowing orange like the seaside clouds at sunset. His tan, freckled skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat, and his blue eyes sparkled. He was beautiful in an almost fey-like way. Jean-Andre smiled, looking very satisfied, and raised his glass once again. Reg looked quickly away, back at Querry and Frolic who still kissed enthusiastically, moaning and slurping at each other’s mouths. Jean-Andre brushed the outside of Reg’s thigh with the back of his good hand and then cupped his knee.
“I don’t mind you admiring me, Reginald. I like it, actually. Do you find me pleasing to look at?”
Reg didn’t know what to say. He felt a little dizzy, like the walls and ceiling rotated slowly around him. He was suddenly terribly warm and thirsty. He squirmed out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the sofa, followed by his tie. Then he removed his cufflinks, set them on the table, rolled his sleeves up around his elbows, and took a long pull from his drink, finishing it. Jean-Andre took his glass and prepared him another.
Still parched, Reg drank over half of it down. Everything looked soft and fuzzy in the firelight. Reg sank back into the sofa, and the upholstery ensconced him like a warm cloud. His body felt light and insubstantial even as his skin felt acute. He felt the air currents in the room moving over him, ruffling the sparse hair on his arms. Jean-Andre moved closer to him, their thighs pressing together. A sensation like an electric shock shot up Reg’s leg. Jean-Andre combed through Reg’s hair with his fingers, the impression of his nails against Reg’s scalp simply amazing.
Across from him, Frolic sat on Querry’s lap with his slender legs hanging over the arm of the chair. His white shirt, open up the center, barely covered his shoulders, and Querry had removed his entirely. Querry held his glass to Frolic’s lips, and Frolic took a sip of the absinthe before letting it flow from his mouth into Querry’s. Querry moaned as he licked every vestige of the liqueur from his chin and lips. It occurred to Reg that maybe they shouldn’t be doing that in front of a guest, especially when Querry reached up to fondle Frolic’s nipple, but it didn’t seem terribly important. Reg let his head fall back against the sofa. His body felt like liquid, like it could flow off the furniture and pool on the floor. The shadows dancing on the walls took the shape of little creatures like Frolic’s Whisper. Reg closed his eyes, but that only made the room spin faster.
Something smelled like perfume. Reg lifted his head, wondering if he’d fallen asleep and for how long. He couldn’t seem to focus his eyes, and perceived only smears of light and color. A hand cradled the back of his neck, and something warm, oily, and metallic pressed to his lips. He inhaled a small puff of the fragrant smoke and prom
ptly coughed it back out. The rim of a glass touched his mouth, and he drank the proffered absinthe to soothe his raw throat. In a bleary haze, he saw Querry and Frolic, stripped to their trousers and seated on the floor in front of him, passing the long pipe back and forth. Reg wiggled his toes, wondering when he’d taken off his shoes and socks.
The pipe pressed to his mouth again, and he drew the sweet smoke into his lungs and held it there for a second before exhaling an impressive cloud. Then the moist brass was replaced by a set of even warmer lips. Reg opened his mouth as they slid against it. Their two sets of lips formed a tight seal before the other breathed out a plume of smoke, and Reg inhaled it. They stayed connected, exchanging breaths, until Reg felt like he’d pass out. Then the other mouth pulled away, and Reg’s head lolled back, his eyes fluttering shut. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so good, like he floated along on a warm breeze, his whole body tingling with pleasure.
He felt lips close over the cord of muscle running down his neck. He groaned; it felt so good. Other lips skimmed down the opposite side of his neck, and still more explored his face before meeting his mouth. For a fleeting second, Reg thought maybe that was too many pairs of lips, but he couldn’t be concerned. Hands—it felt like dozens of them—roamed over Reg’s body. His shirt was whisked away. Cool air caressed his flushed, damp skin. Teeth skimmed up over his ribs, making Reg tremble. He opened his eyes but saw only flashes of silver, copper, black, and skin, skin everywhere. He felt it moving against him, smelled it surrounding him, tasted it. He wanted more of it, and clutched at flesh and bone wherever it met his hands. Another chilly draft washed over his cock as his trouser flap opened. A hand closed around his stiff flesh. Two hands. God, it was good. Reg spread his legs and sank further into the sofa, just enjoying the sensations as lithe bodies moved over him….
REG WOKE, naked on the sofa, with his head throbbing and his throat feeling like a dried and twisted tube of ink. He staggered out to the kitchen and drank water straight from the pitcher. He didn’t quite remember what had happened the previous evening, but he knew he hurt almost everywhere. The sun streaming through the kitchen window stung his eyes, so he hurried back down the hall, into the blessed shadows of their bedroom.
Querry and Frolic lay nude, tangled up in each other’s limbs and the sheets they’d torn from the mattress. Reg flopped down beside Querry, and they all slept until late in the afternoon.
When he woke for the second time that day, Reg felt much more lucid, and with it came a feeling of horror. While he couldn’t recall everything that had happened the night before, he remembered enough to be completely ashamed of his behavior.
Reg noted the bruises on Querry’s neck and chest as Querry made coffee in the kitchen while Frolic toasted bread and fried eggs. “What did we do?” he asked.
“My memory’s a little spotty,” Querry said. “I had way too much to drink.”
“Mine too,” Frolic said. “That strange smoke made me feel really off.”
“Jean-Andre was here,” Reg said. “I’m pretty sure he stayed the night, or most of it. Enough, if you know what I mean. I’m sorry. I feel awful. How could we have let this happen?”
“What’s the problem, Reggie?” Querry sat a cup of coffee down in front of him, and Reg couldn’t decide if it smelled enticing or sickening. “Whatever happened, there’s no harm done.”
Reg rubbed his temples, still unable to completely process the implications. He wanted to rail against Querry’s dismissal of what they’d done, but he hadn’t complained at the time. Maybe he should just forget about it. Maybe Querry was right. After all, they hadn’t hurt anyone, and nobody but the four of them knew about it.
“I think I’ll do some tinkering,” Frolic said. “I had some very bizarre dreams last night. They’ve given me some interesting ideas.” He kissed Reg and Querry before leaving the kitchen for the unused, second bedroom where he worked.
Reg dipped the corner of his toast into the yoke of the perfect egg Frolic had cooked. He was seriously considering going back to bed until dinnertime. “Bloody hell, Querry, I feel terrible.”
“Eat. It’ll help.”
Reg nodded and took another bite of his toast. The coffee helped his head, and he was actually starting to feel a little better when he heard Frolic scream. Both he and Querry bolted down the hall, knocking over their chairs in their haste.
Frolic stood with his fists balled and a little crease marring his perfect brow. At his feet, the leather satchel where he kept his book lay empty. “He took it. That… that… hell cock took my book!”
Under any other circumstances, Frolic’s first attempt at cursing might have been humorous. Reg crumpled against the doorframe, his urge to be sick returning in full force.
“We’ll get him, beauty,” Querry said. “Both of you, get your gear. We have to find him before he can get too far. We can’t let him sell your secrets.”
Reg knew Querry was right, and he suddenly felt painfully sober. His hopes for a peaceful life where their biggest problem would be what to make for dinner each day faded along with the fog in his head. He’d chosen to love these men, to share his life with them, and that might mean never settling down. If this was their life, he’d embrace it. He’d accept it for everything it was. Damn it, he’d become pretty adept at kicking some ass when he had to.
“I’m with you,” he told Querry and Frolic. “Now, and forever. Let’s find that Belvaisian bastard and show him he crossed the wrong men.”
“Thank you,” Frolic said.
“No need, beauty,” Querry told him. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
Without saying anything more, the three of them donned their weapons and armored clothing. They packed their essentials and left yet another home behind, but it didn’t hurt Reg so much this time. They weren’t meant to settle anywhere; home was anywhere they were together. Life didn’t always meet one’s expectations. Sometimes it demanded more, pushed one to become better, sharper. As he looked at Querry and Frolic, Reg couldn’t complain about what life had given him.
Now, it was time to fight to keep them.
About the Authors
AUGUST (GUS) LI is a creator of fantasy worlds. When not writing, he enjoys drawing, illustration, costuming and cosplay, and making things in general. He lives near Philadelphia with two cats and too many ball-jointed dolls. He loves to travel and is trying to see as much of the world as possible. Other hobbies include reading (of course), tattoos, and playing video games.
For more info, visit Books by Eon and Gus: http://www.booksbyeonandgus.com
EON DE BEAUMONT is a versatile author, craftsmen, and raconteur. He has written a number of short stories, novellas, and novels, both solo and with his long-time writing partner and best friend, Augusta Li. Eon is an accomplished playwright and actor under an alternate identity. Above all Eon loves storytelling in all its myriad forms and sometimes has trouble sleeping for the abundance of ideas in his brain. Eon is alternately a mask maker, seamstress, doll maker, and amateur cook, as well. His passions include makeup, shoes, comics, movies, and the pursuit of an ever-higher gamer score. He’s currently working on a number of projects in various states of completion including a manga, a pirate story, a thriller/horror script, and a young adult novel. Eon welcomes and encourages feedback and questions from his readers at [email protected], or through his Facebook or Gus and Eon’s website: http://www.yaoimagic.com, and above all he hopes that his readers find enjoyment in his work.
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