Brandywine Investigations

by Angel Martinez

  Leander twisted the blanket between his hands, his voice still a miserable whisper as he answered, "Only so much room."

  "True. Not like you can build an addition, right? And if you let the books invade all your rooms, then you don't have a home; you have another library. Though I don't know if you'd think that was a bad thing."

  Ooo, that was almost a smile. Careful there.

  "Where do you get your stories? Your fiction stuff?"

  "I ask Lady Athena. Or Lady Hestia."

  "For your birthday or something?"

  Leander gave a tiny head shake. "I don't… remember my birthday."

  "Oh." That's so fucking sad. Everyone should have birthdays. It struck Dio like a garden rake between the eyes that he really was the closest thing to family Leander had, which might have even been sadder if he thought about it too much. The gods gave him a place to live, brought him food and maybe clothes and plants when he needed them. They gave him what he needed to survive. Leander had eked out of that a limited and cloistered way to live. He obviously loved books. Why should he have to limit the books he asked for? The ones just for him. Why didn't anyone think of what he might want instead of only what he might need? Oh, wait.

  "Don't you have an e-reader?"

  Leander's lips compressed in a frown. He edged back into the corner of the sofa so he could turn a couple of degrees toward Dio. "A what, my lord?"

  "Oh, for fuck's sake." Dio flailed his arms in agitation. "No more my lords. You're killing me. An e-reader? Seriously? No one ever thought to bring you one? Do you have like Wi-Fi and stuff in here? A computer? Did Herm run a magical fiber optic in here or anything?"

  "I have a computer, yes. For research."

  "That's all you use it for? No porn? No movies?"

  "The television has Netflix."

  Dio opened his mouth and snapped it shut again. What a wonderfully bizarre mix of modern access and tech innocence. Instead of answering right away, he dropped to the floor and scuttled on his hands and knees to his rucksack. Yeah, he'd probably overpacked, but how was he supposed to know what he'd need? From the padded front pocket, he drew his tablet, his one go-to electronic gadget.

  "This isn't an e-reader as such, but I can use it like one." He got it to wake up and pulled up his library. "It's kind of a minicomputer. But the best part is I can get books on here. Books without killing trees. I am so all about that. The not hurting trees. It's the most wonderful thing. Ever. Whatever I want. Anytime. Three in the morning and I need the new Berserk issue, I can snag it. If I suddenly want to buy… oh… Name a novel you want."

  "Me?" Leander had been leaning forward. Now he reared back as if he'd been slapped. "But—"

  "Come on. One book. Something you've been jonesing for. Er, wanting real bad."

  Leander straightened his glasses, his ears flicking forward. "I have wanted to read A Tale of Two Cities for some time."

  "Oh, yeah, that's another good story."

  "You've read it?" The shock in Leander's voice might have hurt someone else's feelings.

  "Movie. The old black-and-white one. They did one in the eighties, but that one kinda sucked." Dio pulled up the listings and moved back to the sofa to sit next to Leander. Damn, he smells good. All earthy and clover. Concentrate, butterfly brain. "See? There's lots of different ones to choose from. You can get ones with pictures or notes from professor types. Look, this one's even free. Bet you could get a lot of those old books you like for free. But let's get one that's not free. 'Cause pictures."

  He waited for the download, pulled the book up, and handed the tablet to Leander, who took it as if it were made of eyelet-carved eggshells, the little rectangle nearly vanishing in his hands.

  "See? You use your finger to move to the next page—"

  "But I'll leave fingerprints on your screen!"

  "You will. But I have a little microfiber thing to clean it off. It's what you're supposed to do."

  Leander scrolled, his eyes scanning down the contents and the foreword. "This… this is wonderful. But I don't have one of these. And you can read anything on this? Find whatever you like?"

  "As long as the humans published it, you can have it on here. You can do something like this on your computer too, you know. It's not quite as nice for reading. But you could."

  The horned head nodded. "I've read bits of things on the computer. It tires me though. This is lovely. I… have nothing like this."

  Shame on Athena for not thinking of him. Her and her fancy gadgets and not thinking that Leander might like something like this in his isolation. "I can get you one. While I'm here, you can use mine. Not like I read that much. And I have my portable chargy-stick thingies with me, so don't worry about running down the battery."

  "That's very generous, m— Very generous. I have nothing to offer in return."

  "Oh, please. I'm taking up space in your home. I'm probably gonna have to eat some of your food at some point."

  "It's hardly the same."

  Dio snuggled back against the sofa and closed his eyes, aware that he was probably sitting too close, the furnace heat of Leander's thigh nearly burning through his pants. A thought smacked him, and he cracked one eye open. "You could read to me."

  Leander appeared to think about this, his forefingers rubbing fretfully over the corners of the tablet. "I don't think this would appeal to you."

  "I like being read to. Don't have to understand all of it. Just like the sound of words flowing over me like streams of spiced light." When the silence stretched too long, he glanced up to find Leander staring at him. "What?"

  "That was an oddly beautiful way to put it. If it will please you, then, I'll read to you awhile." Leander swiped through some pages, presumably looking for the start of the book. Personally, that front stuff made Dio crazy, having to scroll through intros and explanations and blah-blah-blah seven-page acknowledgments, but Leander obviously had more patience. "The assistants like being read to. I suppose many people do."

  Leander cleared his throat and began, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…"

  His soft voice transformed as he read, more expressive and confident, better projected and without his usual halts and hesitations. Dio rooted closer so he could look over Leander's shoulder at the illustrations, which were actually quite wonderful, the few that there were. He asked to go back to them as they reached each scene, which Leander obliged without so much as a huff, though Dio had to help him find his place again. Maybe minutes or hours passed since they wended their way through several chapters, but Dio wasn't keeping track, and for once, he had no need to pace, no need to get up and do something else, shouting back over his shoulder, I'm still listening.

  He was completely content, warm, and surrounded in soft words of such varied flavors that he didn't feel the itch to move. It had been a long time since all the twitches and attention skitters had settled so completely. Weird stuff. He found himself actually following the story.

  "How much is a guinea?" Dio asked when Leander stopped at a scene change, shocked at how sleepy and relaxed his own voice sounded. "Was it like a shilling? I know what shillings look like."

  "A guinea?" Under the russet hair, Leander blinked several times, obviously surfacing from his reading. "A guinea was a coin at one point. A pound sterling. Eventually it equaled the sum of a pound and a shilling. Twenty-one shillings. But I believe the coin fell out of use nearly two centuries ago."

  Dio smiled and leaned his chin on Leander's shoulder. "You forgot to call me, my lord."

  "So I did." Leander's whisper was tight and broken. He lowered the reader to his lap with shaking hands, his trembling telegraphing through the sofa.

  "Hey. Shh." Dio pried the reader from his hands and set it aside. Since Leander didn't jerk away, he reached up and brushed the long, shaggy hair out of his walnut-dark eyes. "You have no idea how handsome you are, do you?"

  "Please… I'm not." Leander tried to turn his head away, but Dio caught his chin. "I'm a beast.
Only half man. I'm so horrible, my parents couldn't bear the sight of me."

  "Look at me, Leander." Dio cupped his face in both hands. "I know every beast of field and forest. The only one that's ever ugly is man. Making you feel less. Making you feel unloved. That's ugly. You? You're freaking beautiful. Every bit of you."

  "I have horns. Hooves and a tail. And horrible curly bull's hair."

  "You have gleaming white horns, perfectly matched and balanced. You have shining black hooves and a gorgeous thick pelt on your legs." Dio reached up to stroke a twitching bull's ear. "You have these wonderful aerial ears. I don't get to have these."

  "I don't think—"

  "Sometimes, Mr. Librarian, you really can think too much." This was probably a terrible mistake, but they were practically sharing breaths as it was. Dio leaned in, closing the distance between them and licked a gentle line along Leander's bottom lip.

  Leander let out an odd sound, halfway between a human moan and a bull's lowing, his hand drifting up Dio's arm. Virginal, it's in his scent, in his reactions. Oh, I don't want to spook him or make him unhappy. But Dio wanted, a banked fire of want just waiting for the right wind to kick over the coals and whip it into a brushfire, hell-bent on consuming him.

  Carefully, so carefully, he leaned in that extra half inch and pressed his lips to Leander's, which met his in a hard, unyielding line. Still Leander didn't pull away, so he persisted until the lips under his softened and responded in experimental nips and caresses. Tongue could wait. Everything else could wait. Leander seemed to be enjoying this. The hand on Dio's arm tightened and drew him closer. With a full-body shiver, Leander suddenly jerked back.

  "I can't… I've never…"

  "It was just a kiss. A really awesome kiss." Dio smiled, letting him know there wasn't any anger or disappointment. He stroked Leander's hair, unwilling to lose sight of those intelligent eyes, now swimming in confusion. "It doesn't have to be any more. That was wonderful."

  Leander moved back, his hand sliding down to cover Dio's. "It was. Yes. It was… quite nice. But I've never… I don't…"

  "It's okay. Promise. It's really okay. I like sex. A lot. Doesn't mean everyone does. If you never, ever want anything more than a kiss or a snuggle, that's all you want. No one should ever push you for more." A nasty thought occurred to him. "Has anyone? Pushed you?"

  Leander eased away from him to stand, tossing his horns when he reached safe, empty space. He's so careful. Something must've happened. Somewhere. "No. I have been… approached. But no one was ever insistent."

  "Is it that you never wanted to? No one ever, um, got you going?"

  A couple of tail swishes, a couple of paced steps off the central rug and back on again, and Leander was back to wringing his hands. Dio had always thought that was an expression. He'd never seen anyone do it before. "I have had fleeting moments of desire. Completely inappropriate with library patrons. I simply… think of something else and the urge subsides."

  "Who did you have urgings about? Male? Female? Both?" Dio wanted to clap his hands over his mouth, but it was too late to take the blurted words back.

  Leander's complexion darkened to a fetching scarlet, his words stiff and formal as he answered. "I don't feel that it's suitable to share the specifics. Always male, if you must know."

  "Sorry, sorry. None of my damn business. And you can always say that to me, you know. My mouth just gets away from me. Look, I think you're oh-so-yummy, and I'd be right there on my knees if you wanted me. Or however you wanted me. But I'm serious. I won't ever ask for more or be mad or disappointed or anything if there isn't more. You'd have to want it and ask for it. Okay with that?"

  Leander stilled, only his left ear twitching now and then. Dio was wondering if he was pondering or if his brain had gone into a freaked-out blank spot when he finally nodded. "Yes. Yes, thank you. I appreciate that."

  "Cool." Dio bounced off the sofa with his brightest smile. "Now what do you think about dinner? We should get you fed before bed, right? Fed before bed. Ha!"

  That got a little chuckle, and Dio's heart did cartwheels, firework-spitting Catherine wheels for all the progress that evening. Leander led the way into his kitchen, a little skittish when Dio followed, but he still played host as he ran down the list of dinner options, mostly grain, vegetable, and fruit sorts of things, which suited Dio just fine. This might actually work. Even if he never got to sleep with Leander, friends looked more possible all the time. By all the holy rivers, if Leander let him, he was going to do his damndest to be a good friend, since the librarian so desperately needed one.

  Maenads and Murder Weapons

  Chapter Eight

  Just while he's at work? Please, Herm?" Dio had cornered his brother while Leander was in the Alexandrian Collection with Hephaestus going over the repairs needed for the damaged cases.

  "You think he really needs a babysitter in the middle of the day here?" Hermes sorted through a stack of notes, obviously annoyed that he couldn't find something. "He's with Heph now, anyway."

  "Meggie was murdered in the middle of the day." Dio's voice cracked on the last word and, damn it, he wasn't going to start crying again.

  Hermes's head jerked up. "Crud. Sorry. I'm so sorry." He jogged around the table to pull Dio into his arms, which didn't help the whole crying situation. "I get it. You need to go see the kids. I'll keep an eye on him until you get back, okay? He'll be safe with me and Heph."

  "Okay." Dio snuffled and wiped his eyes, swiping ineffectively at the wet spot he'd left on Hermes's Firefly T-shirt. "Thanks. I'll be back before the workday's over."

  "You better." Hermes poked him in the chest. "I'm taking Fafnir out to that new Argentinean steakhouse so he can get his meat on. He's been salivating about it for days."

  "Promise. Don't wanna be god fricassee if I make him miss his date."

  Hermes let him out of the library since the door in Hermes's reading room led into the spare bedroom in his Manhattan condo, a lot closer to Maenad House than using Uncle Hades's door to his place in Wilmington. A couple of trains later, he was in Brooklyn, walking down the Carroll Gardens street to the brownstone he had purchased several decades earlier. He'd intended it for his own New York residence, but with eight bedrooms, it was stupid just for him.

  He'd spent a good deal of time in New York with Hermes since the mid-1800s, but the growing club scene in the early twentieth century had prompted him to make a second home there. Actually living in New York, he started to notice things he hadn't before, like the street kids, the orphans, the castoffs, the runaways running out of hope. Sure, he'd always gathered up lost souls wherever he went. He couldn't seem to help that. But in the big city, he was moved to gather more actively. A kid would ask for money or worse, proposition him for money, and he'd give them the choice: he'd buy them a meal and a coat once, or the kid could come with him and get a fighting chance.

  Some were scared or suspicious, sure, but the ones who felt a connection to him followed him. When more Maenads started moving into the house in Carroll Gardens, he moved out and left the place to them, always with an older Maenad in charge.

  He let himself in, since it was his house, and called out, "Hey! Anybody home?"

  Immediately, a squeal echoed down the hall from the kitchen. "He's here! Oh, fuck!"

  Dio frowned. Not exactly the greeting he'd been hoping for. "Rusty?" Puzzled, he made his way toward the voice, taking note of the shoes, boots, and jackets scattered in the front hallway. Were there more kids than when he was here a couple of weeks ago?

  When he turned the corner into the kitchen, the cause of squealage instead of greetings hit him, quite literally, in the face. The rotten slime stench made him back up a step and sneeze violently. Dirty dishes crouched on every available surface. A layer of muck covered much of the floor. Rusty, bless him, stood on a step stool at the sink with a plunger, apparently trying in desperate incompetence to repair the disaster.

  "So, um, what happened here?"

  Bun
ny in the headlights came to mind as Rusty twitched around to look at him, his white-blond hair and vampire-pale face spotted with gunk. "Hey, Boss. I don't, I mean, everything's been awful, and the garbage disposal. And the dishwasher. And just stuff…"

  One moment Dio stood in the doorway, relatively clean and composed; the next he found his arms full of filthy, sobbing teenager. From what he could gather, the disposal had backed up into the sink and the dishwasher before deciding to redecorate the floor too.

  "Hey, hey, it's okay. We'll fix it. I've cleaned up bigger messes than this, right?" Dio held Rusty tight and rocked him, and a wave of guilt swamped him that the tears were for more than the mess and the frustration. I should've been here sooner. Should've pulled myself together faster. "Where's Heather? And George?"

  "George went to stay at your place. Heather won't come out of her room," Rusty sniffled with his head buried against Dio's chest.

  "And Jack?"

  "He went to find a thing. A snake."

  "He went shopping for pets and left you with this?"

  Rusty shook his head. "No, no, not that kind of snake. A plumber kind of thing. I don't know. That's what Jack said we needed."

  "What you needed was a plumber." Dio sighed and set his waif Maenad back. "Go get cleaned up, hon. I'll start making some calls."

  After an irritated call to Jack to get him out of the hardware store and one to a plumber he'd used before, Dio had his troop, minus Heather, gathered in the living room, far from the scene of the disposal's projectile vomiting. He had hoped to be able to count on either Jack or Heather, as the next oldest, to take over Meghan's role as house supervisor. Now he wasn't so sure.

  After hugs, tears, and talking about how much they missed Meggie, he had to get to the hard stuff. He hated being the responsible person in the room. It just wasn't natural. Rusty was on the floor snuggled next to his leg. Amelie, who was only twelve, nestled under his arm. He just wanted them all to feel safe and secure again.

  "Jack, why didn't you call a plumber?"