by Davis, L. C.
"You think Dennis had something to do with the accident?" I asked warily. It didn't seem to take much for anyone to find reason to pin blame on the man. "They could have been talking about anything."
"Maybe," he conceded. "I just got a weird feeling, and I'm not usually one to pay attention to that kind of thing, but with everything that's gone on lately..."
"Yeah, I get it." I paused to study him. "You seem like yourself. Don't take this the wrong way, but do you feel like yourself?"
"Yeah. I think so." He took another swig of beer. "I didn't. I started feeling kind of flat, I guess. Everything was stiff and it felt like all my senses were turned down to fifty percent, but then Locke gave me something I'm about ninety-nine percent sure was liquefied brain matter and I've felt normal ever since then."
"Where did he get --?" I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "You know what? Never mind. I don't think I want to know."
"Less-than-blissful ignorance is my default strategy for handling all of this."
"Probably for the best where Locke is concerned."
Daniel grimaced. "You know what the worst part is?"
"What?"
"It was good."
"I know this means next to nothing, but I'm so sorry, Daniel."
"I know, but it wasn't all your fault," he said with a hint of a smile. I tried to tell myself it was just my imagination that his color seemed a bit off. After all, it wasn't like the fluorescent tube light in his kitchen qualified as glamor lighting. "Remiel gave me a chance to go with him to the afterlife or wherever, but I couldn't leave Nick knowing what was coming for both of you." He frowned. "Did you really sell your soul to Locke just to bring me back ?"
"Supposedly, I didn't actually sell my soul, just everything else," I muttered. "Kind of like how an escort isn't really selling sex."
"Guess that's a pretty apt analogy in your case.'
I rolled my eyes. "Who is this Remiel, anyway?"
"He claims to be the angel of death. He didn't look the part, but he appeared as my mom after I died and tried to take my soul."
"That's weird." I blinked. Hopefully that wasn't the way he'd appear when he came for mine. "Wait, if an angel knows where we are, why haven't they come for me and Locke?"
"Remiel said he can't get through Locke's barrier around Stillwater, but I'm guessing he's told all his friends where you are by now."
"Shit."
"Mhm. I'll save my sympathy for you being trapped in town when I'm not trapped in a seven-hundred-square-foot apartment."
"How long did Locke say he's keeping you in here?"
Daniel looked like he was about to answer when his face went blank.
"He's standing right behind me, isn't he?" I groaned.
"Yep."
"Daniel is under house arrest until I can be sure he won't go on a rampage come the full moon," Locke purred. When I turned around, he was casually perched on Daniel's couch with a glass of wine, looking like he'd always been there. For all I knew, he had. "You slipped your leash, Holden. Fido won't be happy."
"You didn't give me much of a choice, did you?"
"Ease up on the martyrdom. I'm protecting Daniel from Nick."
"He wouldn't hurt Daniel," I snapped.
"Wouldn't he? Wolves and the undead don't exactly get along."
"This town is supposed to be a sanctuary for supernaturals, isn't it?"
"Yes, but Lucas Whitaker has already made it clear he's not too keen on keeping his ancestral promises."
"I'm sure all your antagonizing isn't helping," I shot back.
"For someone who claims to be afraid of me, you're a mouthy little thing."
"For an ancient demon who supposedly doesn't give a fuck about anything, you spend an awful lot of time flat ironing your hair."
His eyes narrowed. "Not all of us can pull off the 'confused lesbian reproduced with one of the Hardy Boys look.'"
I looked down at my clothes, frowning. "It's called grunge."
"It's called 'My boyfriend is biochemically bound to love me and I don't have to look in the mirror before I go outside.' For God's sake, that tacky dress was a better look."
I was about to ask when he'd even seen me in that dress when Daniel chimed in with, "If you two are gonna bicker like an old married couple, would you at least do it somewhere other than my living room?"
Locke scoffed, tossing his hair over his shoulder. "Couple? Please."
"Cold day in Hell before I got that desperate," I mumbled. It was petty, but whenever Locke was around, I couldn't stand the thought of letting him have the last word.
"In your dreams, you gender-confused hobbit," he shot back. Evidently, he had the same problem.
My phone buzzed and I looked down to see I had missed a few increasingly worried texts from Nick. If I didn't answer, he was probably going to send his Army buddies after me."Shh, it's Nick," I said, more for Locke's benefit than Daniel's.
Locke made an obscene gesture I didn't even want to try to decipher and I answered. "Hey, Nick."
"So romantic," the demon mouthed.
"Where are you?" Nick's voice was rough and stern, but at least it wasn't as flat as it had been lately.
"I'm just at home taking care of my plants, why?"
"That's funny, because I tracked your scent to Daniel's building."
I froze, realizing I was caught. Why had I ever thought it was possible to hide from a werewolf?
"Look out the window," he ordered calmly. I walked over and peeked through the blinds. Sure enough, he was standing on the street below, his phone pressed to his ear. He looked somber enough in his pressed black suit without the mask of stone his boyish features had become.
"I'm fine. So is Daniel," I said, hoping that would soften his anger a little.
"Is Locke with you?"
"Yeah."
"Put him on."
I hesitated, still unsure of whether it was a good idea to honor that request when Locke snatched the phone out of my hands. "Hello, Fido. My condolences about your brother. Did my flowers make it to the church in time?"
I couldn't make out what Nick was saying through the phone, but the blank look on Locke's face as he twirled a long white strand around his finger said it all. "Mhm. Uh-huh. See, you say that like it's a threat, but where I'm from, we call that foreplay."
"Give me that," I hissed, reaching for the phone. Locke easily held it out of my reach. Fucking tree person.
"Don't worry, we've just been having a lovely little chat. If you think you can play nice, maybe I'll consider letting down the ward and you can join our threesome."
Locke winced and held the phone away from his ear enough that I could hear the guttural threats coming from the other line. "That kind of behavior is exactly why I keep the dog gate up. No, I'm not going to put Daniel on. It's about time you learned who your real master is," he said icily. "Holden is mine now. That makes you my bitch by proxy, and if you want to see either of them before the full moon, you're going to have to do a trick for it."
"Locke," Daniel warned. I lunged for the phone again but the demon pressed a hand to my forehead, holding me at arm's length.
The line went silent and I was afraid Nick had hung up so he could try to find a way to break into the building, but the satisfied smile that stretched the demon's pale lips as he listened reassured me that Nick was still on the line. I couldn't hear him anymore, so either he had calmed down or he was angrier than ever.
"That's more like it. Your uncle is playing hard to get, but I prefer instant gratification. Do whatever you need to do to arrange a meeting." He paused. "When? I suppose that depends on when you'd like to see Holden."
I glared at him but knew any verbal protest would just rile Nick up more. Instead, I grabbed Locke's wrist and bit down hard on his hand. The demon's eyes widened in pain and he shook me off, giving me a murderous look. Daniel snatched me back by the arm, but the look on Locke's face was worth it. I just wasn't sure why his blood needed to taste that sweet. That
was an unexpected and unsettling development.
"Yes, I'm still here," Locke said through gritted teeth. "When Lucas is ready, just give me a ring. I'll hang onto Holden's phone in the meantime. He sends his love," he said dryly, hanging up and slipping my phone into his back pocket. He nursed the bite for a moment and then turned his hand over to show off his healed palm. "Lucky for you, I need you intact. Well, in a manner of speaking," he said, licking a stray droplet of blood from his skin. "Just remember that next time, I'm biting back."
"What do you want with Lucas?" Daniel asked gruffly.
"None of your business," he said, tapping the tip of Daniel's nose with his finger on his way out the door. "You kids behave. Mommy's going out."
I grabbed the door before it could fall shut, but Locke was already gone when I looked out into the hallway. When I tried to step over the threshold, something like a thick, invisible bubble gave a bit and pushed me back into the apartment. Daniel caught me with an apologetic half-smile. "Probably should have warned you about that."
"This is bad," I said, rushing over to the window only to find that Nick was gone, too.
"Well," said Daniel, settling on the couch. "Make yourself at home. If Lucas Whitaker is as stubborn about this as he's always been about everything else, you might be here for a while."
Twenty-Six
DANIEL
The next week passed slowly, but Holden seemed to be in reasonably good spirits for someone who was being held against his will. He had been working on some spell for the last couple of days, but the first few hadn't done anything to free us from Locke's ward, so I didn't have high hopes for this one. The fact that any of my hopes were resting on the would-be Whore of Babylon and his magic tricks was by far the worst part of being a prisoner in my own apartment.
Not that I particularly wanted out. Boredom was better than rampaging, which everyone around me seemed to think was a feasible outcome of my being released on the full moon. I was starting to feel dead again, which would have worried me more if the flattening of my emotional landscape wasn't one of the side effects. That night was the eve of the election for Town Council, and I could only imagine it wasn't going to go in my favor since I had been MIA for the better part of a month. I just hoped Locke had followed through on his promise to shut down the clinic, or at least hung the Closed sign in the door. He said he had my cover story taken care of, but that wasn't helping me rest any easier. His idea of an alibi for disappearing off the face of the earth was probably, "Daniel is on bedrest while he recovers from a raging case of crabs." Whatever he had come up with, there was a damn good chance I wouldn't have a reputation left if I ever did get out of the damn apartment.
Television could only do so much to curb the boredom. As a med student, I had often fantasized about having the time to do nothing but sit and veg out in front of the TV, but even Satellite got boring after a while. I looked over from the couch and saw that Holden was still busying himself with some drawing that probably wasn't coming off my floorboards any time soon. Come to think of it, I wasn't sure what he was drawing with. He was surrounded by a bunch of random ingredients he had taken from my cupboards, most of it I didn't even remember buying since I lived on takeout and freezer pizza. Locke hadn't paid us a visit in a couple of days, but I doubted he would let Holden get too far with whatever he was doing. At least it seemed to give him something to focus on besides worrying about Nick. I was doing enough of that for the both of us.
"Shit," he hissed, letting a piece of silver fall to the floor with a clatter.
"You doing alright over there?"
"Fine," he said with a sheepish smile. I noticed he was holding his palm like it hurt before the salty scent of blood hit my nostrils. Since when was blood something that had a smell, never mind one I could detect from across the room? "You're not fine, you're hurt."
"It's nothing," he said, sucking on the cut on his palm. "The spell I'm trying calls for blood, but it's not working."
"Still trying to break Locke's ward?"
"No, I gave up on that yesterday. I'm trying to send a message to Nick."
I stood and winced when more than the usual amount of bones cracked in protest. I wandered over to Holden, peering down at the intricate sigil he had drawn on my floor. "Is that blood?"
"It'll wash out, I promise."
I frowned. "Let me see your hand."
"It's fine, really," he insisted, stumbling a little as he stood.
"How much blood have you been using?" I asked, taking his hand to turn it over. In addition to the fresh gash in his palm, there was a raised white scar on the meat of his thumb. I brushed over it and he pulled his hand away.
"It looks worse than it is. I can heal fast. See?" He held his hand out, murmuring something that sounded like Latin. I didn't remember enough from college to make out anything more than, "heal." He closed one hand over the other and when he uncovered it, the gash was still there. The triumphant look on his face fell. "That spell always works."
"Come over to the sink, I've got a first aid kit," I said, reaching for it in the cabinet over the stove. I turned on the water and he held his hand underneath the stream, wincing as blood swirled down the drain.
"I guess I cut a little deeper than I meant to that time."
"Is that what that other scar is from? The round one by your thumb?"
"No, that's old," he said and left it at that. "Locke must be blocking me from using my powers."
"I wouldn't be surprised."
"He's probably out there doing God knows what," he muttered. "And I'm the one who's bankrolling him with magic."
"Self-loathing isn't going to change anything, Holden," I said, holding my breath as I doused the cut with antiseptic. He didn't even wince, but then again, he was the one who had cut himself in the first place. "If it did, my life would've turned out a lot differently."
"I know," he said with a sigh. "I'm just starting to feel like my life over the last few years has been a series of one bad decision after another, and I keep racking up new mistakes trying to fix the old ones."
"So maybe it's time to stop trying to change the past and just focus on what you can do now."
"That's very new age thinking for the village atheist," he teased.
"Yeah, well, I'm gonna hold onto that card until I meet Remiel's boss face-to-face. Which might be sooner than later if the full moon goes the way Locke seems to think it will." I wasn't even sure I could die again, but I wasn't eager to find out. "You're gonna need stitches, but that should hold for now," I announced once I'd finished wrapping Holden's hand in gauze.
"Thanks," he said, flexing his fingers. "I think Locke is still too pissed at me for biting him to bother patching me up."
"That probably wasn't your best idea," I admitted. "Looked satisfying, though."
"Oh, it was," he said, flopping down on the couch. "Sorry you got stuck with me."
"I don't mind the company. I think Locke is every bit as pissed at me as he is at you, so he's been avoiding me."
"Why ?"
"I turned him down."
He snorted. "Sensitive and capricious. That's a winning combination."
"Mh."
Holden fell silent, so I turned on the TV and offered him the remote. He flipped through the channels and stopped on a random infomercial. When I looked back at him, he was biting his fingernail and staring off into space.
"What is it about the Meat Mincer that's inspired such introspection?"
He gave me a smile that didn't meet his eyes. "Just thinking about Nick."
"He'll be alright. He's been through worse than this."
"That's just it. There's so much he hasn't told me, and I keep thinking I've figured out his family, but then something else comes up. He's dealing with all of it on his own, and I can tell it bothers him," he murmured. "Whenever he goes over there, it's like he has to brace himself. I know he loves them, but they're so..."
"Complicated?"
"That's one word for it."<
br />
"Look, I get it. I've been in the same boat for years, so let me give you a bit of unsolicited advice, best friend to soulmate," I said, ignoring the look he gave me. "You're gonna go insane if you start trying to unravel the clusterfuck of family ties that is Nick's home life. I learned a long time ago that he doesn't want intervention and trying to get him to tell you anything he doesn't want to just pushes him further away. The good thing about the Whitakers is that they're close. The bad thing about the Whitakers is that they're close."
"Yeah, you're right. I know you're right," he said, letting his head fall back against the back of the sofa. "This is why I didn't want a relationship. My chaos doesn't play well with others, and Nick has enough of his own to deal with. This whole imprinting thing has turned my brain to mush where he's concerned."
"Hey, at least it goes both ways. Nothing more pathetic than being obsessed with someone who doesn't give a shit in return."
I realized that might have been the slightest bit too specific when he started looking at me like I was a one-legged puppy. "Dennis was that much of an asshole, huh?"
"I know that's hard to believe with the way he is now, but yeah. He was."
"Just because people change doesn't mean the pain they caused goes away." He paused, and I knew what was coming next. "Can I ask you a really nosy question?"
"How did Dennis and I become a thing in the first place?"
He nodded.
"Honestly, I've been asking myself that for years. I'm still not sure when hate turned into love, but it did. On my end, at least."
"I'm sure there was some part of him that felt the same way, Daniel. I don't really see how anyone could help it after knowing you for that long."
"There was a time when I believed he did, but looking back, I know I was just seeing what I wanted to see. That he loved me, that he couldn't really be capable of killing someone. I'm every bit as guilty of blind faith as a religious zealot, it's just that he was my religion."
"I thought you broke up with him because you did think he killed Jessica?"
"I lied. I wish I could say that's all it took for me to see who he was, but I clung to doubt even when the police were tearing my room apart looking for answers," I muttered. "He's good at that, getting people to trust him. Hell, now that he's on the Council, he'll probably have the whole town eating out of his hand again."