by L. C. Davis
I thought of denying it but I shrugged and said, “Maybe.”
Nick leaned in closer, squinting. “You’re fucking, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Oh my God, you are. You’re fucking Dennis Mills.”
“Asher,” I corrected.
“Same body!”
I hesitated. “I’m not so sure.”
“The fuck is that suppose to mean?”
“You don’t wanna know.”
“Pretty sure I wanna know.”
“Trust me, you don’t. You’re just going to end up saying, ‘Ew, dude, TMI.’”
“If this is a gay thing, I’ve been practically gay for almost a year.”
“You do know there are things like bisexuality, right? Thirty-two years of experience here, I think I have the card in my wallet if you want proof,” I said, reaching into my jacket pocket.
He leaned into me with a shove. “Stop fucking around and just tell me already.”
“Fine. Asher is circumcised, Dennis wasn’t. I’m also about ninety-five percent sure Dennis didn’t have an alternate form that glows blue and sprouts wings.”
He grimaced and rubbed his forearm. “Or shark teeth. You still haven’t gotten him to tell you what he is?”
“Nope,” I said, taking another sip of beer. I didn’t like lying to Nick, but he had no such qualms with me and I would do it if it meant keeping Asher’s secret. To say he was sensitive about the topic was an understatement, and Nick didn’t need any more fodder.
“Please be careful,” he said, turning serious. “Since I’ve got some unsolicited advice chips to cash in, I’m gonna take the opportunity to remind you that you have your own way of tanking relationships. Maybe Asher is the complete photo negative of Dennis, and for your sake, I hope he is, but I know how you are.”
“And how’s that?”
“You go all in when you should be taking it slow,” he said flatly. “You put on this act of being this tough, grumpy old man before his time who doesn’t need anyone, but the second someone looks over the wall, you let it down entirely. You want so badly to believe that people are the way they want you to think they are that you’ll ignore every red flag just to maintain the illusion. Assholes see that and they prey on it. I know because I am one, or at least I was before Holden,” he muttered.
“Asher’s a lot of things, but he’s not an asshole.”
“Maybe not. Maybe he’s as great as you think he is or maybe he’s something a hell of a lot worse, but you went from hating the guy to being his first line of defense overnight. I wouldn’t be a good friend if that didn’t scare me.”
“You’re not a friend,” I echoed, giving his head a playful shove. “You’re the annoying little brother I never wanted.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes before ordering us another round of drinks. We moved on to lighter topics, but saying those words out loud was weirdly cathartic. It was the first time I’d been able to say Nick was like a brother to me and feel like it would be okay if that was all there ever was between us.
After Nick and I parted ways, I found myself with some time to kill before it was even close to late enough to fall asleep. I told myself I was just going for a walk, but I ended up at the Victorian. I’d yet to actually go inside, even though I had seen the outside of it while I was helping Nick look for Holden. There was a light on in the window of the storefront downstairs and I could see the shadow of someone moving around through the frosted glass. Etched on the glass in old, scripted font that hadn’t been there the last time were the words, “Magick Shoppe.” Because everything was legit when you tacked an extra couple of letters on the end of a word.
I knocked and a moment later, Holden came to the door. His hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and his hands were stained with what I could only hope was red paint. He wiped them off on the apron around his waist and gave me a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Hey, Daniel. Everything okay?”
Our budding friendship had wilted to the point where my showing up meant something was wrong, it seemed. I knew that was all on me, too. Time had gotten away from me and I’d yet to actually give Holden that apology I owed him. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just hoping we could talk, if you had a second.”
He glanced back into the shop and I could hear something boiling over the sound of the fan. “Yeah, sure,” he said, moving aside to let me in.
I looked around the shop and realized it was a good deal bigger than it looked from the outside. There was a mini book shop in one corner with three shelves stacked with old leather books, most of which had latin on the covers. On the other side of the room, there were shelves lined with everything from the neatly packaged bottles and tins I recognized from stalking Holden’s online shop back when I’d been convinced the cures he sold were a scam. Part of me still wished I’d been right. There were plants everywhere, just like his old apartment.
“Just let me turn the bunsen burner off, okay?” he called, darting through a beaded curtain into the back room.
Bunsen burner…?
Holden came back a minute later and his hands were only stained red rather than covered in it. That was a good sign of it being paint, at least. “Sorry about that. Locke’s got me making love potions.”
“Seriously?”
The way he grimaced erased any hope I had that he was joking. “It’s not exactly ethical, but they sell like crazy.”
“I guess now we know where he gets all the designer shit from.”
Holden rolled his eyes. “Can I get you anything to drink? We can go sit in the parlor if you want, Locke’s not here.”
“You have a parlor?” I asked with a dry laugh. “Fancy.”
“You have no idea.”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll come in for a second. Uh, you keep the drinks separate from the love potions, right?”
“Always,” he said, grinning over his shoulder as he motioned for me to follow him through the curtains. I found myself in what could only be described as an alchemy lab. The bunsen burner didn’t look quite as scientific as I’d hoped since it was situated in the middle of an intricate sigil that had been drawn on the counter with some kind of glowing red phosphorous paint. Holden’s hands glowed in the darker light. At least that solved one mystery.
I followed him into the house and felt like I’d stepped back through time. For a place that had ostensibly been decorated by Locke, it was a hell of a lot more tasteful than I’d imagined. There was also much less suede than I’d imagined.
“Swanky.”
“Very,” he said dryly, motioning for me to take a seat on a dark red upholstered sofa while he wandered over to a liquor cart near the fireplace. “Pick your poison.”
“Seltzer. I actually just got back from the bar with Nick and I’m trying to be less...well, alcoholic.” Might as well call it for what it was.
He seemed to stiffen up at the mention of Nick but he gave me a sympathetic smile and offered me a glass of something clear and bubbly. “Thanks,” I said, sitting down. Holden took the chaise across from me, his hands folded awkwardly in his lap.
“It’s probably unfortunate you didn’t come when Locke was here,” he said with a small laugh. “I’m not really the entertainer of the house.”
“No, I wanted to talk to you,” I admitted. “I know it’s been a while, but I uh, still feel bad about the way things went the last time we really talked about you moving in here. I was having a shitty week--a shitty year, actually, and I took it out on you.”
“That? No, forget about it,” he said with a dismissive wave. “You were right, I was being obstinate for the sake of being obstinate and besides, I’m the reason you’re having the shitty year,” he said, smiling. “I think a bit of blunt honesty is the least I had coming.”
“It’s okay. Things are better now,” I admitted. “They’re...great, actually. And I can understand why you would do whatever you could to put off moving in with Locke. He’s kind of a hard pill to swallow.”
“He’s an...acquired taste,” Holden said carefully. The smile on his lips didn’t seem forced anymore, and I found myself wondering if Nick had reason to be worried. “But living with him hasn’t actually been all that bad.”
“No?”
“I mean, he’s hardcore when it comes to the witch stuff,” he said, relaxing against the back of the chaise. “But he’s actually a pretty good teacher. I’ve learned a lot since I’ve been with him, and for the first time, I actually feel like I’m in control of my power instead of the other way around.”
“That’s good,” I said, unable to believe I was talking about magic that had nothing to do with rabbits and top hats. “I guess that’s part of the plan, right? You becoming powerful enough to stop the apocalypse and everything.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even figure out a way to put your soul back.”
I touched my chest instinctively. Sometimes it was easy to forget my soul existed at all, never mind the fact that Holden was the one who was holding onto it. Usually being close to him reminded me. Sometimes it was a strangely pleasant warmth that spread out through my chest, and others it was simply feeling more human, the way I did after I drank one of Locke’s shakes. This time, I didn’t feel anything despite his close proximity. I decided it was probably because I’d been feeling more human in general lately, and I knew Asher was the reason for that.
“From what little I know about souls in general, I doubt it, but I wouldn’t complain.”
He smiled and fell silent. In fear of letting the silence linger and my own inability to derail that kind of awkwardness, I asked, “So, you’re doing better after the...basement...thing?”
“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Oh, yeah, that feels like it was a lifetime ago.”
“You sure? ‘Cause I remember what you told me about your dad and I wouldn’t be over it if I were you,” I admitted.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, I wasn’t fine, but I am now,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Locke helped me through it.”
“Huh. Sounds like you’ve gotten close.”
“I wouldn’t say close, but we’ve come to an understanding. Like you said, pissing him off isn’t good for anyone. But he has a softer side.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” It was rare that I got a glimpse of it, and granted, it had only ever been after sex when exhaustion might have explained his strangely gentle moods as easily as genuine vulnerability.
“You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. A favor, really.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“It’s just...There’s this old journal Mrs. Marrin told me about. It’s just a glorified diary her family kept to chronicle town events and whine about the Whitakers, but from what she told me, I think there might be a chance it holds some clue about whatever deal Locke made with Lucas.”
“Is that why you were in the basement that day?”
“Yeah,” he said, biting his lip. “Mrs. Marrin said she probably moved it down there when she was clearing the attic out for you. I was hoping maybe you’d seen it while you were there?”
I thought about it for a second before shaking my head. “Sorry, can’t say I did. I mean, I helped her move most of that stuff, but she had it packed up way before then. I just did the manual labor.”
“Oh, well,” he said with a sigh. “I figured it was worth asking.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be more help.” I hesitated, deciding I had to take the chance before my streak of courage ran out. “Listen, I know this is none of my business and I probably just sound like an overprotective friend, but are you and Nick doing okay?”
“You just talked to him,” Holden said, blinking at me. “Shouldn’t you know?”
“Yeah, but uh, that’s the thing. He doesn’t think things are okay. He says you’ve been distant lately and I know this sounds crazy, but I think he’s worried there’s something going on between you and Locke.”
Holden frowned. “And he sent you to talk to me instead of bringing it up himself.”
“No! God, no. If he knew I was here, he’d kill me...again.”
My attempt at lightening the mood I’d tanked was met with a blank expression. “No offense, Daniel, but we’re not friends and you’ve made it abundantly clear you don’t want to be. Trust me, I get it,” he said, holding up his hands. “If I were you, I’d hate me, but I still don’t feel comfortable discussing my relationship with you. Especially since…” He trailed off and seemed to regret that last part.
“Especially since what?” I asked, straining to keep my smile from turning into a scowl.
“Nothing. Forget I said anything,” he pleaded, going back over to the cart to pour himself a drink of something that definitely wasn’t seltzer.
“No, please. If there’s something on your mind, say it. We’re both adults.”
He eyed me and seemed to be considering it before he shook his head and took a drink. “I think you should leave, Daniel. We both know the only reason you’re here is because of Nick. I’ll be sure to tell him you did your duty.”
“So what if it is the reason?” I challenged, standing. “He’s my best friend and you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder for weeks after putting him through hell.”
“I didn’t disappear to hurt him.”
“So you say.”
His eyes turned to ice. “God, sometimes I think he’s willfully ignorant. He’s too smart to be the only one who doesn’t see the blatant truth.”
“Excuse me?”
“Who do you think you’re kidding, Daniel? You’re in love with Nick and maybe you don’t hate me for being the one who brought you back, but you hated me for being the one he imprinted on long before that.”
I stared at him for a few seconds, convinced I was dreaming because I couldn’t believe he’d just said that. “I’m gonna just give you the benefit of the doubt and assume the fumes from all those love potions have gotten to your head and pretend you didn’t say that.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” he challenged in a syrupy sweet tone. “You’ve always loved him and you’ve always resented me for coming along and doing the one thing you never could. I mean, Nick Whitaker, the legendary womanizer, questioning his sexuality? I wonder what stings more, thinking the man you’ve been pining after for years will never love you because he’s straight or finding out that he isn’t and he just never wanted you.”
The words hit their mark even if I’d made my all too recent peace with the fact that nothing was ever going happen between me and Nick, but something wasn’t right. It wasn’t an observation as much as an instinct, but I’d felt something off the whole time we’d been talking and at first, I’d just brushed it off as Holden being understandably wary of spending time alone with me. Now, I wasn’t sure at all. “You’re not yourself.”
“And you’re not someone Nick could ever love,” he said without missing a beat. “You realize that, don’t you? Of course you do. You don’t get through medical school by being stupid. On some level, you also know that it’s not going to work out with Asherath.”
I frowned. “He never told you his name was Asherath.”
His face went blank. “I’m sure he did.”
“No, you heard me call him Asher and you started doing it, but that’s not a name he’d just let slip off his tongue,” I said, taking a step closer. “You’re not Holden.”
His head fell all the way back as he rolled his eyes up in his head and I wondered how it had taken me so long to recognize the imposter. “Can you really blame me? Being virginal for this long is giving me a migraine, it’s a wonder I can even think.”
Holden’s face shifted, becoming narrower and his hair turned white as it grew in length along with the rest of his body. A few seconds later and Locke was standing in front of me, his hand planted on his hip. “Good eye, living dead boy. Before you start thinking you’re too clever, remember, the real deal is incubating your soul in his thoracic cavity and you didn’t eve
n notice the difference.”
“Why would you go to all this trouble to make me think you’re Holden?” I demanded. “Where is he?”
“The little angel is tuckered out from a long day of training and crying his eyes out over his failing relationship,” Locke said with a fake pout. “For the record, just because he didn’t say the words doesn’t mean he feels any differently. Your lust for the lupine is painfully obvious.”
“Whatever I felt for Nick is in the past,” I muttered.
“Why, because you’re fucking the fairy?” he laughed. “That’s cute. I wonder if you’d feel otherwise if you knew what happened to the real Dennis.”
He was trying to get under my skin, and it was working, but I wasn’t about to take the bait. “Dennis was a monster. He killed Jessica, and he never loved me.”
“One out of two’s not bad,” he mused, examining his nails. “Care to guess which one’s true?”
“Holden!” I called, stalking toward the stairs. I wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of that house, but I wasn’t leaving unless I had Holden with me, considering that I was the reason he was there in the first place. I should have known something was wrong when I made it to the top of the stairs without getting assaulted, but I kept walking and tried to feel for my soul. There was a faint tingling in my chest, but it could have just as easily been anxiety as my link to Holden. There was an absurd number of doors in the house, so I opened one and found myself staring into a seemingly endless expanse of white. I noped the fuck out of that shit, slammed the door and decided to just keep following the tingling. “Holden!”
“No! Please, no!”
A rod of ice shot through my spine and kept me frozen. I knew that voice. I hadn’t heard it in so long, I’d forgotten just how much softer Asher’s voice was. Of course, Dennis’ was shrill with terror. I knew it was another one of Locke’s tricks, and I knew I’d regret turning around to find the source of the terrified screams echoing through the hallway, but ignoring him, even in death, just wasn’t something I was equipped to do.