by Eli Constant
“What are you doing in here?” I question before I’ve entered the back storage room, which is also open, but in contrast smells distinctly old and musty.
“There used to be a glass bowl thing on the table near the front door. It held the business cards and stuff. You remember it?” Dean coughs as he stands up and comes into view from where he’s rummaging in a box. “I mean, I’m dusting too. This place is a mess, but then I remembered the missing bowl.”
“Oh, god. I broke that months ago,” I admit as I move further into the room and find myself suddenly surrounded by displaced piles of neatly-labeled boxes. I see my grandmother’s name everywhere. My father’s also. His shirts and books, and random wonderful things I couldn’t bear to give away. In a sealed, professional box, inside a plastic tub, is my grandmother’s wedding dress. I think of it now. I wanted to wear it when I married Adam. I still want to wear it...
And I wonder if that would be allowed by the ‘oh great king’ of the Light Court.
“You know, we could use some extra business storage if there’s anything in here you could part with.” Dean’s made this same comment off-and-on for as long as he’s worked for me.
“Nope, not a thing.” It’s my usual response.
“Not even this?” Dean holds up a large rat by the tail. It appears to be long, long dead. I suck in a breath and take a step back. “Dead bodies all day long, but rats and spiders are your Achilles heel.”
“Dead people don’t move.” I have to keep myself from laughing, really freaking hard. Because of course, when I’m the mortician, dead people might do more than move. The might speak. Or dance. Or walk the hell out of my funeral home looking for unfinished business.
I’m trying so hard to control myself from hysterics that I feel my power begin to warm inside me, pushing through the layers of myself towards the skin, where it hovers just below the outermost rim of me. It wants to be released. So badly. Lately, with learning more and testing my abilities—some old news, some fresh and scary surprises—I seem to be ready to release magic at a second’s notice.
The rat dangling from Dean’s grip gives the smallest of wriggles. Dean yelps and drops it on the ground.
“I could swear that thing was dead,” he says and swipes his hand along his jean pants. “I mean, it’s got to be dead. The freaking eyes are gray and goopy.”
“Ugh. Thanks for the visual.” I don’t feel like laughing at all now. “Don’t worry about in here. Let’s just put all the boxes back and deep clean it some other time. And I’ll find something new for the business cards. I totally forgot about that.”
“Yeah, sure,” he murmurs. But he’s still staring at the dead rat.
I’ve got to be more careful.
“WE NEED BUSINESS,” I breathe out as I close my date book. There are only two funerals on the calendar this month. And the first is two weeks away. “We’ve never been this slow.”
“Yeah, you’d think with all the people dropping dead, we’d get a few bookings.” Dean is sitting across from my desk, his feet propped up and his head back. I didn’t use to allow this, but with Max having quit, Dean and I have gotten more casual around each other.
“Well, we got the family from town.” And a tiny paycheck to go with them. Which isn’t the important part... it’s never been the important part to me. The money. Of course, being noble wouldn’t feel so great when I had to close shop for lack of business.
“Yeah, because it was a county case and the coroner’s on vacation. That won’t keep the lights on.” Dean chews for a second on his nail, and then drops his hand quickly as if nail-biting is an old habit he thought he’d kicked, yet still cropped up in certain situations of anxiety.
I nod. “Yep. It’s a fraction of an actual booking, even when I’m discounting things.”
“About that... maybe you shouldn’t discount coffins and such so much. I mean, I don’t understand how you can ever be in the black with how you operate.” He twirls his thumbs and then quirks an eyebrow. “Hey, speaking of money—some guy stopped by trying to sell us new windows. Kept going on about how most of the windows were original and we must be draining the bank with our electric bill.”
“A salesman? For windows?” I’m a little surprised by all this money talk. Dean’s never voiced his opinion on how I run the books. I’ve been showing him that side of things lately—the operational costs, coffin retail values, and such—but I’ve not invited him to shit all over how I do things. Of course... the kid has a point. No cash for new windows. “Good thing we’re in the South. Drafty windows aren’t such a big deal.”
“Yeah, he was a weird guy. Wouldn’t leave until he pulled out his ladder and checked the window sills for... hell if I know what. He was banging the frames with a hammer saying they weren’t secure and pointed out a few cracks here and there in the glass. Thought he might full-on break one with the way he was carrying on.” Dean shrugged, and sighed. “I was going to call the police, but I figured the guy probably lived off commission and was trying to make a sale. That sort of thing is why I hate car shopping. You know? The pushing to make a paycheck.”
“I hope traveling salesmen aren’t becoming a thing again. I mean, the bible thumpers that came through last month filled my quota for unexpected visitors pushing product. It’s not the worst job though I guess, and people need to make money.”
Dean cocked a smiled. “Maybe remember that next time someone calls to book services? Discounts are a buyer’s friend, not the sellers.”
Yeah. I’ve had enough of that for now. I might have to pull back on the ‘be friendlier with Dean’ bit. “The first time you run into a family whose baby has died, and they can’t afford a decent funeral, you tell me how you handle it.” I link my fingers together and place my hands against my lap. “We’re in one of the most emotionally-hard businesses in the world. We have to make money, but for me compassion comes first.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.” Dean pulls his feet from the desk and sits up. “It’s just that... this is the only job I want, Tori. This is what I’m going to do with my life. I need to make enough here to stay, and keep pursuing my goal.”
“I get that, but your needs don’t come before the client.” I exhale, and take a thoughtful pause. “But, I’ll be more mindful of keeping your employment secure. Okay?”
“Thanks,” he smiles and gets up. “Mind if I take off for the day? Might as well go hang with Mei. She had a big exam today and I thought I might take her to lunch.”
“Sure. Not like there’s anything else to do around here right now. Tell Mei I said hey and I miss her. Feels like forever since we’ve talked.”
Dean’s at the doorway, floating there looking like he very much wants to run away, but also like he needs to spit something out. He decides on spitting. “She misses you too. Shoot her a text and set something up. I think sometimes she worries about coming off too clingy.”
I snort out a laugh, because she is sort of clingy. My face falls to a frown when I realize he’s being serious though. “Shit. I’m sorry she feels that way. I hope it’s not because of me? I know I’m not always the warmest, most spontaneous person.” I bite my lip, because it probably is my fault Mei’s been keeping away from me. Last time I ordered Chinese, and she brought it over, I was pretty curt about her wanting to stay and chat for what felt like an hour. I just hadn’t been up for company. Liam had exhausted me with training that day. But what about the other times I’d snapped at her? Taken her for granted? She might be annoying sometimes, and a bit silly and immature, and still bending to her parents’ wills more than she should, but she was my friend. My best friend really.
And I was a total bitch for taking her for granted.
“You can be intimidating, Tori. Not every woman is as...” Dean hesitates, “as independent and sure of herself. Mei looks up to you, in some ways. Your sort of her idol, if you can believe that. So call her.” Again he pauses, quirks a little smile like he knows he’s about to push his luck.
“And be nice. You might be my boss, but I love her. And that trumps a paycheck.”
I really want to laugh again, because if Dean and I were truly chummy like I’d thought, he’d know I’m about as independent and sure of myself as a Labrador Retriever. There was a point in my life where I’d have kissed any bastard on the planet, simply for the promise of a peanut butter treat. He made some good points though, and I resented him a little for that.
“I’ll be nice.” Is all I said back, and I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes after Dean was gone.
Apparently, I was a bad funeral director—if my lack of bookings were an indication—a not-so-great girlfriend—who wanted to be monogamous but was having feelings for a fairy—and a really shitty friend.
I was a pretty damn good necromancer though.
But I didn’t think that evened the scales.
A hot shower would wash it all away—I lied to myself. And it was a lie I’d told myself many times before.
When I get out of the shower, my phone light is flashing. Kyle’s called and left a message. I wrap the towel around my body tighter and I enter the code to my voicemail.
“Hey, Tori. I’m going into the bar for a bit. I think I’m feeling up to it. Not nearly as weak. Even did a few miles on Dad’s ancient exercise bike. Damn thing was nearly rusted.” Kyle chuckled a little, and I parroted the sound. Jim was into a lot of things, but fitness was far down the list. “So, anyways. Thank Liam for me. Talk later.”
I frown when the phone beeps to indicate the message is done. The whole thing had felt a bit canned and forced. And he hadn’t talked about seeing me later. He was pulling away. I knew he didn’t want to hurt me, but this would hurt me more than any out-of-control shift would.
My wash is ridiculously high, and all I’ve got left in my dresser are grannie panties and a ripped cotton bra that barely held the girls in. It didn’t matter; sex was probably the furthest thing from Kyle’s mind. Lately, I was like a teenage boy though—not even having the Queen of England down the hall would stop me from getting it on with my bear if the opportunity arose.
To balance the less-than-ideal undergarments, I pulled on a long olive-green stretchy dress that swept the floor and showed off my curves. Combat boots and Adam’s jacket completed the outfit. I didn’t bother drying my hair, and the Spring air felt cool against me when I walked outside towards the business sedan. I just missed the damn Bronco, and I wasn’t ready to replace it, dammit. Maybe I’d ask Terrance to tow it here. I could keep it in the detached garage behind the Victorian. Hold onto it for just a little while longer.
Of course, if the business kept going downhill, I’d not be able to afford gas, let alone a new personal vehicle.
I look in the rearview mirror as I pull out of the driveway. The Victorian looms behind me, with a whisper on its lips, as if it wants to tell me something. But the mouth beyond the porch is closed. The window eyes are sleep-haze dark. And whatever it might warn me of is only silence.
When I pull up to Jim’s, I sit for a minute and think about what I want to say.
We’re in a relationship, Kyle. It’s you and me. When things get tough, you don’t hide away.
Do you love me? No. What if the answer is different than it used to be.
Help me understand what you’re going through? But can he? I’ve lived with what I am from the day I was born. I knew what might happen, what I might become. I was prepared when my powers sprang to life. Kyle didn’t have the warning, the family to walk him through destiny.
I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.
Good. Clean. Assertive.
And it could completely blow up in my face.
I take my time getting out and shutting the door. I methodically lock the sedan and put one foot in front of the other towards the bar entrance. The double doors are free of fae runes, as far as I could see. I try to recall the words Liam said in Elvish to light the fire beneath the writing, but my brain can’t focus. I can only think of one thing—how will Kyle react to me pushing myself into his sphere? How will he take me not letting him have the space he so obviously wants?
Kyle is behind the counter, his back to the bar as he re-organizes the glasses from short to tall. Crow walks in from the back, carrying a pallet of vodka. He quirks a salt-and-pepper eyebrow at me. I nod at him and he shrugs.
“Kyle,” I speak softly so as not to startle him.
He turns around, confusion on his face. It changes quickly to... something like annoyance tempered with the slightest of smiles. “What are you doing here? I said I’d—”
“Talk to me later? Yes, I listened to your message.” I slide onto a barstool like I own the place, and try to look as ‘get to business’ as possible. “Here’s the thing though. We’re in a relationship. You chose me. I chose you. We’re pretty damn good in the sack. So, when things get a little dicey, we’re not allowed to retreat from each other. And I’m afraid,” I glanced quickly at Crow, who’s engrossed in counting the vodka bottles, though I get the feeling his ears aren’t missing a single syllable of what I’m saying, “that shifting from staying most nights with me, to basically avoiding me, just isn’t something I’ll accept.”
“Look, Tori, I wasn’t avoiding you. I just needed some time to think. And I was sick. I didn’t want to,” he also looked at Crow for a second, “make you suffer too. I mean, you could get hurt. I mean sick. You could get sick too. And this sucks. Basically the plague.”
“If you’re well enough to be at work, Kyle, then you’re well enough to be around your girlfriend.” I crossed my arms on the bar and leaned forward to whisper. “What I am could just as easily hurt you. Don’t you get that? You’re not the only one who’s dangerous.”
“Yeah. That’s true, but you’ve got control over yourself, Tori. I don’t. And I’m not going to risk hurting you.”
“And I’m not going to let you walk away from me.” I leaned back and spoke normally. Maybe even a little louder than necessary. “Besides, you won’t. Liam won’t let that happen.”
I know as soon as I’ve mentioned Liam, that I shouldn’t have. Kyle’s eyes narrow very slightly and he picks up a cloth on the bar and starts cleaning, even though the wood is spotless and shiny. For a minute, I experience Déjà vu, and it’s Jim that I see behind the bar, cleaning the wood and deciding whether he wants to put his slightly-criminal hat on, or his good guy hat.
Neither of us say anything for a while, but then Kyle puts the cloth down and moves around the bar to me. He takes my hand, and he pulls me gently towards the back room. When we’re past the hallway and bathrooms, into the dark area filled with boxes of liquor and supplies, Kyle pulls me close and he kisses me hard and deep.
His lips moves against mine like they were made for me alone, and no one else in the world. The connection is damp, warm, seamless. I shift gently against him, and I’m suddenly glad I’m wearing the crappy thin bra. I want him to feel what he does to me, how my body hardens at the very touch and promise of him. He stops too soon, leaving the heat of desire flooding through my body. And it is its own kind of power, strong and undeniable and somewhat wild.
Kyle’s breathing heavier than normal, his chest rising and falling jerkily. “I shouldn’t need,” deep breath, “another man,” deep breath, “to keep you safe.” Shuddering, sobbing breath. It is my turn to pull him close, to comfort him. Because he’s more scared than I realized. More damaged.
And more fucking beautiful than even dreams could make him.
“You will protect me, Kyle. That’s the entire reason you are what you are. You won’t hurt me. We’re bound. You’re my anchor. The strong fast hold that keeps me from barreling into dark, dangerous waters. It’s magical, Berserker to Necromancer, but it’s also so much more than that. In my heart, it’s more than supernatural. It’s chemical, physical, emotional. I love you, Kyle. Me. The human component of whatever mixed-up shit I am. I love you.”
Giant alligator tears dampen my hair, and his body shakes slightly
. But he makes no sound now. I wonder if he is steeling himself—and if he is, will it be to leave me or to keep me.
“I love you too, Tori,” he whispers huskily, his breath volcano-hot against my scalp. “God help me, I love you.”
“Then don’t shut me out.”
“Okay,” he agrees softly. “And... can you get Liam here.”
I look up at him, and he’s smiling sheepishly, but his eyes are pulled taut with pain. “Are you okay?”
“I thought I was.”
And with that, my beautiful bear dropped to the floor and somehow avoided dragging me with him. And that told me he hadn’t completely let go of the idea that he needed to keep me safe, even at the expense of himself.
“Kyle, you okay?” Crow’s voice was muffled by the closed storage door, but he pushed through shortly after. His customary ponytail is undone now, his silver-black hair racing wild around his shoulders. His gaze finds Kyle on the floor, flat on his back with his eyes closed. “Shit, I knew he wasn’t feeling as well as he acted.” He joins me on the floor, placing a hand on Kyle’s head. “Damn, he’s hot as hell.”
My own hand touched Kyle’s flushed cheek, and I too found it way hotter than I expected. Hadn’t he been cold before? Wasn’t he shivering?
Crow rocked back on his heels, and his face bore a new expression—one of... realization maybe? But he didn’t say anything. The wrinkles on his face simply deepened, his keen gray eyes grew stormy, and if I could read that particular language, of age lines and storm clouds, I might know what he was thinking.
Before I can call Liam to me, he is knocking on the back door of the bar. I know it is him, because who else could it be? He is always there when I need him, even when I act like I don’t. When I open the door to him, seeing him in his human guise with chestnut hair and a casual tailored suit, I think of the first time I saw him. How that meeting had altered the course of my already-strange life.