“Tell him, Di.” Exasperation coloured his voice.
“He has to make his own choice,” Di finally offered, both men rounding on her immediately, Daniel with the feeling that finally someone was listening to him, and Will with disappointment written clearly on his face. Stubbornly, Will continued the art of persuasion.
“I won’t have anyone else, you know. If it isn’t you, then I will stand on my own.”
“That’s not… Will, please…” Daniel frantically tried to link words together but was helpless against his friend’s obvious disappointment.
“You don’t bloody see it, do you?” Will crossed his arms across his chest, cast a brief look at his wife-to-be, then focused back on Daniel. “Are you at least coming to the Red Lion tomorrow night?” Daniel winced inwardly. Damn it, the stag do. He’d forgotten.
“Of course.”
“Seven in the bar?”
“Seven.”
They started to leave, but just as the front door was shutting to barricade him in his house, Will turned back, extending his hand, which Daniel immediately took in a strong grip.
“Everything is okay, Dan,” Will offered cryptically.
Daniel watched his friend leave, saw him pulling Di in for a hug and shared conversation as they walked, and something gripped his heart. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy that his friend was happy or guilt that he was letting him down.
Chapter Ten
Sean was too damn observant by far. They were only halfway through a double pepperoni pizza, beer for a not on-call Sean and an orange juice for Daniel, when Sean placed his pizza carefully back on the plate and leaned forward.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t seem yourself somehow, what happened? I’m worried. Is it your meds?”
Daniel hurriedly interrupted that train of thought. “The meds are good; they work better. It isn’t that, honest. It’s just this whole wedding thing.” Sean frowned, and Daniel realised he was squirming in his seat now that he had to explain to his lover where his head was at. “Will, both of them, came over earlier.” Frustrated, he pushed his food away and climbed onto Sean’s lap, wincing at the sharp twinge of pain in his knee but pushing that to one side and cuddling into the space between Sean’s neck and shoulder. Sean immediately pulled him closer, holding him to support his weight more to keep it off his leg.
Daniel inhaled the smell of Sean, the scent of outside, the autumn air, a mix of aftershave and of pizza. Everything felt warm, comforting. He was hopeful that Sean wouldn’t judge him for his cowardice. He was making this decision to save his best friend from the embarrassment of having him at the church. Sean would understand. He slid one hand up and into Daniel’s hair, twisting his fingers and gently encouraging him to lean back and look up.
“Talk to me.” Sean’s voice was so damn soft and encouraging, and Daniel attempted to explain, but all that came out was one huge bloody pity party for one. Sean listened to the whole thing, gently massaging Daniel’s scalp and, every so often, nodding at what Daniel was saying.
“So, let me get this right. You’re scarred, ugly, you have difficulty standing for long periods of time, people will stare, and you don’t want to ruin the photos. Is that right?” Daniel shut his eyes and dropped his forehead to rest on Sean’s chest, suddenly uncomfortable with the scrutiny from Sean’s knowing gaze. He muttered a yes that was muffled by the soft worn cotton of Sean’s T-shirt. “You are staying away from your best friend’s wedding even though both he and Di want you to be there.” Sean encouraged him to look up, and Daniel sunk into his lover’s thoughtful gaze. At least Sean wasn’t dismissing the whole problem out of hand.
“Don’t tell them, but it isn’t just…” His words trailed off as he pulled his thoughts together towards some kind of logical conclusion. “I can’t think straight sometimes. I’m not sure, but all those people…” Sean moved his other hand until he could cup Daniel’s face and pull him up for a kiss. It was a gently searching kiss with seemingly no end, tongues tangling and tasting. Daniel could kiss like this forever, patient and tireless and warm, delaying Sean’s inevitable reaction to Daniel revealing his uncertainty with everything. Sean was murmuring words in between breaths of air. “Gorgeous, sexy, mine…”
When they finally separated, and the autumn night was inviting secrets, Sean led Daniel up to the bedroom, curling in behind Daniel and holding him tight. The physical connection didn’t need to go any further. It was right; it was perfect. Sean’s last words before sleep deepened his breathing and relaxed his hold were the ones that lingered in Daniel’s thoughts as he waited for the pain meds to allow him to sleep.
“Will and Di are good friends. Neither of them would want you to be uncomfortable. It will be fine.”
It was amazing how those simple words—it will be fine—echoing what Will had said earlier, made Daniel feel less than what he should be. It took him a long time to find sleep.
* * * *
The Red Lion was busy, but for the stag night, the back room was booked. Twenty or so guys milled around drinking beer and talking shit. It was as familiar as a night with his army friends, and Daniel pushed past the ache at the memory to concentrate on being a good friend. Sean was here, across the room, looking over at him every so often and smiling. He had managed to avoid one-on-one with Will, and for that, he was thankful. However, it was that very reason that meant he was wedged into a corner, nursing a bitter shandy and leaning against the wall so he saved his knee the pressure of standing straight. He was happy to stand quietly and felt himself drift into remembering the dreams from the night before.
“Hi.” The voice was uncertain, nervous even, and Daniel blinked as he pulled himself back to the here and now. That guy was there, Mike or something, the one with the friend who had a bad arm.
“Hi,” he answered and shook the extended hand, this time without hesitation. He felt the familiar static spark, and he suddenly remembered the guy’s name. Mark.
“Do you…” Mark’s voice trailed off, and he looked at his partner, who extended his hand in welcome to Daniel.
“What Mark is trying to ask is whether you could spare ten minutes in the snug.” The snug was a small room to the side of the main bar, and to be honest, Daniel could do with the peace. He nodded and, after agreeing to another small drink, allowed himself to be led to the area. There was one highly polished wood table with four chairs, and a door that separated them from the main bar. He slumped down in the wide, soft upholstered chairs. Jack and Mark sat down opposite him, and for a moment, it felt like he was in a head teacher’s office awaiting some kind of punishment. He wondered if he should ask what was wrong, what they wanted to ask him, but he didn’t need to.
“I know about the knife,” Mark blurted out, looking briefly to Jack, who nodded encouragingly. “I saw it.”
“The knife?” Daniel shook his head. He wasn’t following this.
“The dagger. The one that used to hang on your wall in the sitting room. You had it hidden under your shirt when you were at Sean’s house.” Mark was insistent, and he waved his hand in what Daniel assumed was a gesture of “you know what I mean.”
“It wasn’t actually concealed.” He wasn’t carrying a weapon for defence; it just comforted him and sat comfortably secure in his jeans, the hardness of it reassuring against his hip.
“No. Not hidden from me anyway.” Mark had an unfocused lilt to his voice, and Jack interrupted.
“Mark has been having these dreams—”
“You’re in them.” Mark interrupted quickly, “I think maybe—I don’t have visions in dream that often—I think it’s time for us to talk about Belvedere.”
Daniel tensed. That name again. The name from his dreams. What the hell did— The door opened, and Daniel looked up. Sean stood there, looking in with a question on his face. It was an instant feeling of relief that flooded Daniel as he smiled up at the man who formed such a huge part of his life now.
&nb
sp; “You okay?” Sean asked simply. He didn’t wait to be asked in, just closed the door behind him, before choosing the chair next to Daniel, opposite the other two men. He gripped Daniel’s hand tight.
“Mark here was just asking about the dagger,” Daniel said conversationally, and Sean nodded. He’d seen it, dealt with it, and never ever questioned why Daniel carried it around with him. Daniel loved him for that.
“Do you dream?” Mark interrupted quickly and then held out his hand. “I know you do, but, would you share them with me?”
Daniel hesitated. He wasn’t sure he wanted to discuss his freaky post-traumatic stress images of men being burned to death.
“It’s okay.” This came from Jack, who leaned towards Daniel. “Mark does this all the time. He’s a—”
“A psychic, yeah I know.” There was silence as all eyes turned to Daniel. “Why do you want to know?” Daniel tried not to sound too suspicious.
“I think, somehow, that I need to be sitting here talking to you, that I could help. With the dreams I mean.” Mark seemed so damned sincere, and there was something about the guy that Daniel trusted. Finally, despite feeling uncomfortable, he started to talk.
* * * *
Sean listened to Daniel as he explained his dreams, stunned that his lover had made it to where he was, let alone through a single night with these horrific images he lived with. It wasn’t just Afghanistan, with his command being decimated by a bomb and the resulting survivor’s guilt, but also memories of things he’d never even seen.
“So they chain up this first guy. Young. Slim.”
“Martin…” Mark suggested softly, and Sean looked from Mark to Daniel and back again as Daniel nodded as if he recognised the name.
“Yeah, and I hear the older man tell this Martin that he loves him, that it will be okay, and that he will see him on the other side. They aren’t both chained. Only Martin is chained to a stone, a big one, like at Stonehenge.”
“A sarsen stone,” Sean offered as helpfully as he could, and Daniel nodded.
“Chained, and then they set fire to this wood, and I see him die.”
“Shit.” Sean couldn’t help himself. That was an awful image to have inside your head.
“And then the other man, the dead man’s lover… It’s another time, I don’t know how long afterwards, but another day, and they chain him too. He’s tall, proud, and he’s determined, not crying and pleading like the other one they murdered first, his lover. He acts like he’s accepted his fate.” Daniel paused and looked at Sean, who simply leaned closer, hoping his presence helped.
“That was Jonathan Curtess, the one who laid the curse on the Fitzwarren family.” Mark’s voice had the ring of certainty.
“The fire is there and then…”
“Go on.” Mark sounded impatient, and Sean watched as Jack laid a settling hand on his partner’s, and Mark reined in his obvious impatience to know the whole story.
“My hand. It’s definitely me in my dream—my hand—and I have this knife…” Daniel stopped and reached under his shirt, leaning to his left. He pulled the dagger out and laid it flat on the table. “I use this in my dreams. To kill the second man before he dies in the flames.”
“Do you know why you do that?” Mark’s hand reached for the knife but stopped just short of it.
“I have absolutely no idea.”
“Daniel?” Sean waited until his partner looked him in the eyes. “You are a protector,” he began carefully, “a soldier. That’s why.” Daniel shrugged, and Sean looked back at the other guys. “So why do you need to know this?”
“I’m not sure whether either of you believe I am the real thing or just a fake.”
“I don’t have an opinion. Sorry,” Daniel said quickly. Sean felt the same way. Sure, he had seen the video of the tower room and shivers ran down his spine at the thought but… It was just he liked to be able to touch his reality.
“It’s fine.” Mark’s voice was reassuring. “Let’s just say that I have spoken to the young man since the video recording you have of the Belvedere meeting. I had, er, contact with him. I believe he owned the knife you have there, and I believe he may be your ancestor.”
Silence.
“His name was Joseph, a family friend to Jonathan Curtess, the second man that was burned at the stones. He couldn’t bear to see his friend die in such an awful way. He told me it was instinct to throw the knife at Jonathan, and his skill meant it pierced his heart.”
Sean tightened his grip on Daniel’s hand, trying to reassure him even as he felt Daniel wriggle in his seat. These things that the psychic was saying were not observations that he or Daniel could disprove.
“Did they kill him too?”
“No, his death was much later in his life, from old age. He ran from the scene, and the rest of the story was his new life with the woman he grew to love—the wife of Jonathan Curtess. They ran from the bad guy, Belvedere, before he could wreak any kind of vengeance and took the name Renfrew, which was her maiden name. My surname.”
“Wow, some story.” Daniel wasn’t being disrespectful. He didn’t sound disbelieving, just this side of very slightly shocked.
“I have this whole story in my head, and I think it needs to play out, but I also think you are part of it. Psychic connections, you see.” Mark finally touched the knife, showing no sign of any reaction as he turned it over in his hand. Sean didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this calm turning of the object with no leaping or shouting or speaking in tongues.
“I don’t usually get connection from solid objects,” Mark offered with a smile, and Sean felt embarrassed that he’d clearly given away his disappointment at the lack of spectacle.
“I can’t tell you anything else.” Daniel sounded tired, and Doctor Sean rose to the fore.
“I think that is maybe enough now,” he said firmly.
“That is all we need,” Mark said simply as Sean encouraged Daniel to stand. “I’ll try and sort this, and I’ll come back to you.”
Daniel was shaky on his legs, but finally Sean had him back out in the main bar.
“What was all that about?” Daniel sounded as curious as Sean felt, but it wasn’t as if he had any answers about this whole psychic-ancient history stuff. He was a doctor, and he mostly diagnosed from real symptoms he could quantify.
“I have no idea,” he offered. “Wanna find Will, say our goodbyes and then go home?”
“God yes.”
* * * *
Will said nothing about being best man to Daniel at the stag night, and Daniel would have remembered because he wasn’t drinking and recalled every word of what his best friend said, alongside that odd conversation he’d had with that psychic Mark guy.
He’d felt relaxed until he arrived home to find a box on the doorstep with his name in large block letters in black pen on the front. He knew it was Will’s handwriting. Damn him. Opening it, he revealed a morning suit with a small note in the same strong hand. “Just in case you need it. Wedding is at three.” Sean didn’t comment, just took the box from Daniel and pushed it under the small gate-leg table behind the sofa.
“Will is always hoping.” Sean smiled and held out his hand. Taking the proffered support, Daniel let himself be led to the bedroom and, ten minutes later, was flat on his back with Sean paying special attention to his knee, massaging lightly and chasing each press of his fingers with his lips. It was surreal, catching sight of himself in the mirrored wardrobe doors with Sean on his knees, naked, kissing a path of heat from Daniel’s knee and then north to settle between his legs.
“How are you feeling after all that?” Sean asked softly. He clearly had intentions to take his kisses further, but it was obvious to Daniel that the doctor part of his lover had concerns that manifested in über-careful-sensitive Sean. He needed more than that tonight. They hadn’t even gone past mutual hand jobs, and having Sean’s mouth that close to his dick was a wicked temptation.
“Feeling like maybe we mi
ght want the lube and condoms in the side draw?”
They laughed, the tension of the minutes preceding sliding back to the recesses of Daniel’s mind as he lost himself in making love with Sean.
Chapter Eleven
It was raining on Saturday morning. Daniel sat in the window seat drinking tea and watching the rain slide down the small panes of glass. It was the kind of rain that could ruin a wedding.
“I kind of expected it to rain,” Sean had commented morosely before he left this morning. He was pulling on his shirt, his back to Daniel, who stubbornly refused to leave the warmth of the bed. “With Di’s luck, I’m surprised there is isn’t thunder and lightning.”
“It can’t rain all day,” Daniel offered in response. He was trying hard to keep things focused away from him. The last thing he needed was Sean turning around and mentioning one more time that Will and Di really wanted Daniel at the wedding. They’d had their first argument over it all the night before, but Daniel was tenaciously clinging to his excuses for not going, and even cited pain in his knee, blaming an overenthusiastic bout of lovemaking with Sean.
His lover had pointedly left the walking stick Daniel sometimes used leaning against the front door, and the morning suit was hanging on the bedroom door. All reminders of what Daniel wasn’t going to do. Frustrated, he crossed back to the bed, climbing under the sheet and closing his hand around the ancient dagger. He winced as he caught the tip of his thumb on the blade but didn’t have the energy to check the cut or the blood that he knew would be staining the sheets. The cut hadn’t hurt; it wasn’t that deep. The sound of the rain against the window lulled him into a half doze, and his last thoughts were of his friend and the wedding. They would thank him at the end of the day when he wasn’t causing problems or making the place look untidy. Imagine he was there now, bloody hell, standing next to Will, and his knee gave out, or he tripped or some other accident meant he was weak and useless. It wasn’t going to happen. It was safe in bed.
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