Chapter Nineteen

Jacob answered his door without a shirt. He leaned against his doorway, sly smile on his face. “Hey Ethan. Bit early for a meeting, isn’t it?”

“I know. I think I just got fired. And I just took an Uber from Grimsby, so can I please sit down?”

“Oh.” Concern etched in around his eyes and scars instead. He gestured with his hand for Ethan to come inside, which he did without even thinking.

Jacob’s apartment was the same as it always had been—small, yet spacious and filled with high-tech appliances Ethan had never seen him use. Jacob’s bedroom door was open, his sheets a mess, signalling he’d recently awakened. Ethan found himself relieved when he noticed no one else had been here. In all the times he’d stayed with Jacob, he’d never seen a trace of another partner. It was always only Ethan.

“We can have coffee,” Jacob said. “It’s still early for me.”

Ethan only nodded. It was well past four p.m., but he understood the need for coffee at all hours and under all circumstances. He took a seat at the kitchen table and waited as Jacob measured out grounds and heated water on his stove for his French press. All of it was done in silence; after the long Uber ride filled with a hard-rock station the driver refused to turn off, Ethan was surprised at how much he revelled in the quiet. There were no excuses or stories or lies anymore. No fake conspiracy theories or impressions of Sandra. He didn’t have to come up with a cover story or hope someone would understand him. He could finally think with Jacob around because he and Jacob understood the world—supernatural included—in the same way.

“So why are you awake?” Jacob asked as he set down their drinks. “Thought you were a nighthawk like me?”

“I am. But I had a doctor’s appointment.”

Jacob lifted a brow.

“Not for anything bad. Surgery consultation.”

“Oh. Wow. Congrats. That’s big, right?”

“It is. Thanks to you, I had enough for a deposit. Surgery date is at the beginning of August.” Ethan tried to find his surgery card only to remember Francesca had it. Their friendship was another can of worms he didn’t want to open, at least, not right now. He could imagine coming into work a week later, clearing out his locker, and having a heart to heart with her about their words. They’d forgive each other and move on. Or something like that. Maybe even in time for the surgery itself. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to embrace that reality anymore.

Ethan shook his head. “I think I lost the card with the date on it, but it’s after the long weekend. Less than two months from now.”

“Is that a long time to wait?”

“Not compared to what I have been waiting.”

Jacob nodded along but didn’t seem too geared up to talk. Ethan tried to convince himself that was only because of the early hour. He drank back a lot of his coffee, much too fast. On an empty stomach, his hands shook. He nearly dropped the mug.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ve just…been sick a bit this morning. Or afternoon, whatever. I felt better on the way here, though. So I’m fine.” Ethan tried to stand to get some water, but trembled. Jacob was on his feet in a second, grasping Ethan by his elbow to keep him balanced.

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Yes. Maybe?”

Jacob narrowed his eyes. He took Ethan to his couch and laid him down. He plopped a glass of water next to him, along with some Advil. “Or is it not that kind of pain? Maybe you want some Gravol? I can run out and get that.”

“That’ll make me drowsy. Or, with the coffee, even me out. Ugh.” Ethan placed a hand over his stomach. He roiled. In all of this, he was actually craving food. Something with MSG, maybe. Something… “This is going to sound ridiculous, but do you know a good Chinese place? I kind of lost my breakfast earlier.”

“You sure you won’t lose this?”

“I’ll take Gravol with it. Or Pepto Bismol. Or something.” When Jacob still narrowed his eyes, Ethan sighed. “I don’t feel sick anymore. I feel weird, but not sick. I think I was excited today. Big date.”

Jacob considered this for a moment. “All right. I do know a good place for Chinese. Any special requests?”

“Make mine tofu, you know. Gotta keep the vessel clean. And I think I may even like eating this way.”

“Sure, no problem.” Jacob scrambled inside his bedroom for a shirt and flung his jacket over his shoulders. To Ethan’s surprise, Jacob leaned down and kissed him once before leaving.

*

Chinese was a good idea. Ethan devoured the first order, along with some rice and dim sum, before he tore into the extra tins Jacob brought over.

“Whoa, now. Slow down. I wanted to have some for dinner later on.”

“I’ll get some more. I’m flush with cash now, haven’t you heard? For the first time in my life too.” Ethan grinned wide, nearly maniacal. “Jesus, it feels so good.”

Jacob chuckled. “Oh, don’t I know that feeling. I’m pretty sure the first thing I bought with my first big pay cheque was a motorcycle.”

“A motorcycle?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s how I ran into Damien. We bonded over the seat, if you understand. “

“And you realized he was the perfect vessel for more than one thing?”

“The relationship was short though. He hated doing the vessel stuff. Said it gave him the creeps, which you know, makes sense. He only did about two people before he backed out. Mary was already a regular worker at the Crown, so Damien’s absence wasn’t too negatively felt. She worked with us the longest, but she always had a large break in between people. She needed it for sanity. Even Damien had long spaces between people, but he still had to get out after only two.”

“Two people is still ten grand. Not too bad. I certainly never had that much in my account, and really, if I’m being serious for longer than two minutes.” Ethan chewed on some fried tofu with a sigh. “I still don’t have that kind of cash. I put down half for the surgery, which was more expensive than I thought. Rent’s gonna happen soon too. Not to mention the Uber drive and my rented car today. Student loans, other crap that always comes due. And if I’m not working anymore, I’ll need to keep doing something. So I’m not exactly flush, but it’s still a nice feeling that I can afford these things without breaking into a cold sweat.”

“No doubt. You really want to keep going though?”

“Well, yeah. Of course. I need to go at least once more before I have the amount I need. Then I cover the surgery, no problem. And from there, why not keep going? It is creepy, but I can handle it.”

Jacob blotted the sides of his mouth with his napkin. “How exactly does the surgery work?”

Ethan went over the details he knew so well. The mastectomy part was familiar to most people, but the nipple graft afterward and the chest reconstruction made it different and more cosmetic. Jacob nodded along, but his mouth was formed into a deep-set, uneven frown. Ethan rarely saw this expression, mostly because Jacob was an easygoing guy, without much reason to frown. Now Ethan realized there must have been an inability to make his scarred tissue form this expression. Jacob looked downright sinister when his mouth turned downwards; with only half his face working, it must have taken extended effort.

“What’s wrong?” Ethan asked. “Is there something about the Crown I should know? Will there not be a person in time for the surgery date? Have I completely fucked up?”

“Shh, no.” Jacob’s face went back to normal. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your third person, though with you being sick, I’m inclined to wait for a while before we go back to the Crown.”

Ethan swallowed the food in his mouth. “Wait for how long?”

“A week, maybe two. Nothing much, but we rushed into the first runs. I want to be sure your body isn’t reacting to it, like trying to reject the host or prematurely decaying.”

“Can that happen?”

“I’ve never seen it. But we should be careful. Being sick isn’t good in general. It makes you weaker, so we should wait and preserve your strength.”

“Keeping the vessel clean. Right. Well, that’s fine. We can wait, and I can catch up on all the reading I’ve never done because I’ve always been exhausted. That’s exciting, actually. A mini staycation.” Ethan tried to be nonchalant. It lasted for two seconds before his worries crashed down once again. “As long as I can get the third person to transport. Then everything will be okay.”

“You will. The Crown should have some time to raise the funds too. They had a lot of it stored away until they had a vessel, but I want to be sure we aren’t pumping them dry.”

“Do you think they’ll run out? Everyone seemed so eager before.”

“To be honest, we’ve never had a vessel so eager. The people always are, yes. Hope makes us antsy. But you… You’re different.”

“A natural, blah blah. I know. The truth is that I don’t mind travelling. And we can find other Crown sects, right? There can’t just be one. I’ll go to a different compound if it’s easier.”

“I’ve only worked with one. They’re a small sect, but I’ve heard Tessa mention others. Maybe travelling will work, but…” Jacob tossed his fork in his takeaway container, his appetite gone with the seriousness of his words. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to carry anyone after your surgery.”

“What do you mean?”

“Again, I don’t know all the details. We’ve never had to deal with this before. But I’m pretty sure that if you break the seal of the marks, you lose the ability to be a vessel.”

“Break the seal?”

“Remember the painting in the barn?”

”Oh yeah.” The Vitruvian man with the red thread linking up all of his marks, from neck to foot to chest, came into his head like a tarot card drawn from the deck.

“Well, if you destroy one mark, you sever the tie to all the others,” Jacob said. “Damien came close once. He had an accident with an overdose and needed to get adrenaline to the heart. When he went to get another ghost, they wouldn’t enter him. We couldn’t figure it out until we noticed that the triangle mark on his chest had a cut over it from the needle. We waited until it healed and tried again. It worked that time, but the ghost was difficult to transport and travel. The mark had been damaged so ghosts didn’t trust the vessel. Afterward, Damien refused to do it again, so we couldn’t test out any ways around it. And that was just a cut. It’s highly likely that if there’s scar tissue running through your mark, it simply won’t work anymore.”

Ethan glanced down at his chest. He still wore the same clothing from earlier, including his binder, but he didn’t need to be naked to remember the lines the doctor had drawn on him. He’d gone right through the mark. It would sever the connection. And all others would topple.

“Oh… I see.” Ethan was surprised at the sadness that welled within him. It wasn’t just for the money; the connection itself was something he’d grown attached to. It exhausted him in a way working at the duty-free shop never did. It made him not dream, because he had other people’s dreams swirling inside him. But he liked it. He wanted it to be his job. However strange and surreal the experience was, it was something that gave him hope in the world, and the body he was currently living in, because there was so much else beyond it.

Ethan stuck his chopsticks into the takeaway container, following in Jacob’s lack of appetite. “I’ll do the third. And maybe try for a fourth before my surgery date. Store away some money. But I could still go back to transporting stuff across the border, right? I may not be a vessel anymore afterward, but I still have the wrist mark. I can keep doing dragon eggs, right?” He traced a finger around the vertical line and dot over his veins. It glowed. “I’m still transparent, yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t have the mark, and I get by fine.”

“Exactly. Okay. Here’s to getting by, then. Fuck heaps of money. As long as we have the one golden object of desire—be it a surgically constructed chest or a motorcycle—we’re good.” Ethan held up his bottle of beer and waited for Jacob to clink with his. With a sly smile, he eventually did.

“So what happened to your bike?” Ethan asked.

“Damien drove it one night and wrapped it around a tree.”

“Oh.” Ethan blinked. “Fuck. I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It is what it is. He died doing what he loved. He was also coked out of his mind. Truth be told, I had planned on breaking it off with him after the overdose that nearly killed him, but I didn’t want to seem callous. So I was going to wait, and then, well. Yeah. It is what it is.”

“Still sad though,” Ethan said. “All of it is sad.”

“Of course. But what are you gonna do?” Jacob rose to grab more beer from his fridge, only to realize Ethan wouldn’t get to partake in it. He leaned against the counter instead. “You know, I think that’s the most you’ve told me about this.”

“About what?” Ethan asked.

“Your whole…endeavour.”

“You mean transition?”

“I mean your life. You still haven’t told me that much about your dad, only a handful of stuff about his smoking habits. Same with your sister. All I know is that her name is Leslie and you talked to her in order to get the pipe. I’m still glad you told me even that much though. Even if it only feels as if I’m getting the pieces and not the whole story.”

“You haven’t said much either.” Ethan’s voice was thin. “Like how you got into this business. Without the mark, how did you even know stuff like this could have happened?”

Jacob smiled, half his face tugged obscenely. “I needed Mary’s help one day. Before all of this, when I was still a normal guy studying to get my degree in economics while learning Arabic in night school classes. I figured Arabic, in addition to the French and shaky Spanish I already knew, were going to help when I eventually went on the workplace, make me seem more appealing to bigger financial firms that dealt with international trade. At least I wasn’t too wrong there.”

“What did you need from Mary? Was it ghost related?”

“Yeah. I was…trying to get someone out of here. Not this apartment, but one closer to my school. Mary helped by transporting the ghost…fuck, I don’t know where. Maybe as far as Africa or Asia. Just as long as there were a lot of fucking oceans around him to keep him away from me.”

“Who?”

“My brother.”

Ethan remembered Jacob’s hands over his license, reading his date of birth. Same age as my brother. A brother Ethan had forgotten about until now, since Jacob never mentioned him beyond that fun fact. There were no photos, either. Now Ethan understood. “Can I ask what happened?”

“You can ask whatever you want.” Silence spread between them. Jacob folded his arms against his chest as he continued to lean against the counter, silent and still. When he spoke again, there were ellipses in his words, etching out hesitancy. “My brother was a…mean person. You don’t need to hear all the…gory details, lest this be a tell-all biopic to sell at airports.”

“No, I don’t. But I want to know how you got that scar. I feel like these things are related.”

“Shh,” Jacob said, surprising Ethan with his playful tone. “You’ve gotta give me more time to work up to that detail.”

So Ethan did, and Jacob told him the entire story, pausing for the right dramatic effect and blotting out the worse details as if to spare Ethan from heartache. But Ethan was proficient in broken homes, like Aurora was good at reading tea leaves. He already knew everything about Jacob’s brother’s life and his eventual death long before Jacob could even fill in the details. David was seven years younger than Jacob, always jealous, always living in his shadow until he decided to take what he wanted. When he wasn’t stealing from their parents and grandparents, he found other victims. He disappeared for days on end in alcohol and drug binges and emerged with new cars and cash, and tall tales to go with them. When he sobered up enough, he became a con man and ran scams. And when those deals were too difficult, he merely broke into people’s homes and took what he needed, sold it for cash, and lived that way.

“Until someone shot him,” Jacob said. “He went into the wrong neighbourhood… Didn’t case the joint… Got shot by someone defending his property. I ID’d the body. And I was relieved because I’d spared my mother the unnecessary burden of seeing her son shot in the face. I also thought it meant the nightmare was over.”

Jacob’s sinister sneer came out in his frown. It was gone as soon as it appeared. “But of course, as I would soon learn, bodies have energy and not all of that energy is good. David bonded with something of mine I had on when I visited him—an old key from our parents’ place, something that had some of his DNA on it to mix with. That was all it took to become his anchor object. I don’t understand the science behind the desire to anchor, and by the time Mary explained it all to me, I was already nursing this scar in the ER, wondering if I could ever show my face in public again without kids screaming and running the other way.”

“How could he do that to you as a ghost?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. The easiest thing I can think of is that he took over someone else who was a vessel and made them break into my place. Ghosts can’t pick up things like you or I—their anchor objects being the exception—but something obviously gouged me. Someone obviously had to hold a blade to my face and dig it in deep. So someone had to be possessed—sorry, enchanted by him.”

“Without an energy worker though? And a conjuring stick?”

“Those are needed for most ghosts to latch onto a body and good for guidance, but from what I understand, bad emotions can trump all reason and make the host do some terrible things sometimes, including allowing someone into their body without even being wholly aware of it. At least that’s what Tessa says.”

Ethan recalled the diagram of bad emotions, all fuelled by desire in some way. Ghosts reincorporated about desired objects—but a human could become an object to a ghost if they wanted it badly enough. Ethan imagined himself as a vessel, completely unbeknownst to him, being taken over by a strong ghost. It made him shudder. It made him feel vulnerable. He would be literally objectified. He couldn’t imagine how painful the experience would be to a complete stranger.

“Anyway.” Jacob cut off his thoughts. “That’s the best bet of what happened. Because I was hit in the head with something, blacked out and lost my memory, and then my face was cut to shit. When I came back to my place after the hospital, the key he’d latched onto was covered in blood. I gave it to Mary after that, and I paid for the full round trip to get David out. Even though it couldn’t undo the damage. Not entirely.”

“Fuck.” Ethan had pushed his food away a long time ago. He wondered if he should make more coffee, but Jacob was still speaking, still explaining, and he didn’t want to interrupt for something as trivial as coffee.

“Obviously, my face is fine. Not nearly as horrific as I worried it would be. Plastic surgery is a wonder. It drained my bank account for a while, including Mary’s fee, but she helped me out for a while too. After she took my brother over with the key and became his vessel, I started to work for the Crown and occult private investors, like Gilda. It only seemed fitting.”

“And Mary?”

“She stayed overseas, sometimes coming back to work with the Crown or stay with me. She made sure to never be around where they dropped off David though. Always made sure a body of water separated them. It’s possible that David could be transported again, but the Crown has a book of hostile ghosts or difficult trips. He’s been listed. No one will take him because he may never leave. I was so, so worried he’d never leave Mary.”

Ethan now imagined Mary—still a blurry image in his mind from the old photos he’d seen of her—rotting from the inside with David inside her vessel, not being able to expel him. “There have got to be ways around removal, though? Around hostile spirits? I mean, we have the leaving ritual for a reason, right?”

“Right. But that’s more a suggestion, like the entering ritual too. Think of an alarm clock—you can wake up with it or you can hit the snooze endlessly. There are small tricks to bring someone out of a trance, to trump the spirit, and make them leave, and we use all of them. Same thing with warding off spirits getting into a body too soon if they’re particularly strong; it’s one of the main reasons why Tessa fed you that bread to keep you grounded and stronger than the liminal spectres around the Crown. But if the spirit is strong enough, and the vessel has been worn down, it’s possible to break down the lines of communication entirely. I have not seen that happen, though. David was an anomaly, and even he eventually left.” Jacob touched his face and looked at his hand, as if he expected to find blood. “In all my experience, plus Mary, and Tessa, and every other lifer in the Crown, David has been the only hostile spirit. All other names on that list are bad travellers. Not hostile.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Seven, eight years now. Since it happened.”

David would have been twenty-one. Ethan made the calculations easily. At twenty-one, he was finishing up his degree in English and art history, putting his faith in the medical system which would reject him, and dating women. So much could change in a short time, the feeling of vertigo made Ethan’s legs weak. His stomach roiled again.

“Fuck, I’m going to be sick.”

Ethan dashed from the table. He found Jacob’s bathroom and barely had time to shut the door before he threw up. Again. And again. He plugged his nose before he flushed, hoping he could air out the awful smell. When he stepped out, Jacob was there, brows furrowed in worry. The shadow of the kitchen fell on his scars.

“You okay?”

“I’m okay. Wish I had a toothbrush though.”

“That’s easy.” Jacob opened the linen closet close to his bedroom and pulled out a new brush. “Straight from the dentist’s office. Please use it.”

Ethan did, brushing twice to be sure. When he came out of the bathroom, Jacob had a mug of tea for him. He moved them both to the couch, where he tangled his hands in Ethan’s, while he sipped from the camomile with his free one. Ethan drained the mug in a matter of minutes. The two of them stayed in silence as Ethan adjusted to his body and balance again. When he moved to kiss Jacob, Jacob initially pulled away.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. The tea helped. Thanks. Before I was nervous, now I’m just…too invested. But I’m fine, really. Trust me.”

Jacob moved into the kiss easier this time but still cut it short. He allowed Ethan to rest on his chest, their hands linked.

“Sorry to share so much. The details aren’t always the best so I tend to keep it under wraps.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me. I mean, look at us. Sharing over tea. How sentimental!”

Jacob laughed. He rubbed his thumb over Ethan’s hand in slow concentric circles. He leaned in closer as he whispered. “All this sharing, and yet you still won’t show me your tits.”

“Oh, God.” Ethan rolled his eyes and took his hand away. He sat at the other end of the couch. “Don’t call them tits. That’s not what they are.”

“Fine, sorry. Chest. Your mark. You still haven’t shown me.”

“You know it’s there. You can describe it. Hell, everyone in the Crown knows it’s there. It’s painted on a goddamn wall.”

Jacob didn’t answer. He ran his hands over Ethan’s feet and took off his socks. When he traced his finger around the other mark on his foot, his gaze pinpointed on Ethan.

“God, are you into feet? Don’t be into feet.”

“Why? It’s a harmless interest. And don’t act like you don’t like affection being thrown all over you.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Jacob gave Ethan’s foot one final squeeze before he lowered them on the couch as he stood. Jacob took off his T-shirt and tossed it on the floor. Ethan couldn’t mistake the look in his eye, and despite how sick he’d just been, his stomach clenched in desire. Jacob hovered above Ethan’s lips.

“Can I kiss you? Are you too sick to do anything?”

“No. I’m fine. I told you so.”

So Jacob kissed him. Harder this time with more insistence. Ethan had never been so grateful for toothpaste as he opened his mouth and let Jacob inside. Ethan had a feeling Jacob’s movements were more frantic because of his story. If there was anything he’d been able to decipher about Jacob, it was that talk of his family upset him more than anything possible. No matter how much he could move on from his own pain, he could never fully forget. He had to face his scars every day and know that his brother had become a hostile ghost wrangling over his birthright, a betrayal so Biblical he could only diffuse its power through humour, sex, and smuggling in supernatural trade. By being the kingpin in the underworld, he could control how powerless he’d once felt. It was so obvious. It was so human. It was so uniquely Jacob and Ethan wanted him even more.

“Come here,” Jacob said. “Come with me to the bedroom.”

Ethan allowed himself to be led. Jacob bent onto his knees in front of Ethan, removing Ethan’s pants and boxer briefs as he did. He slipped a hand between Ethan’s thighs and moved his fingers like he knew exactly what he was doing. Ethan had to sit down on the bed Jacob’s touch was so intoxicating. Jacob only spread his legs further and switched to his mouth. He made Ethan’s breaths come in short bursts, erupting with desire. Though Ethan’s chest ached from throwing up so much in the span of twenty-four hours, Jacob’s touch still made him want to give in and show him the last part of himself he kept hidden. It made him want to feel what it could be like, skin to skin. Ethan tugged on Jacob’s hair. Jacob thought it meant go faster and harder, so Ethan lost his grip. He lost himself for the moment, almost coming before he got what he wanted.

“Jacob.”

He glanced up from between Ethan’s legs, his scar not visible in the low light of the bedroom. Ethan took off his own T-shirt, leaving his binder. The fabric already felt too scratchy; he wondered if he could cut it off and if Jacob would still treat him like he did, hard and fast, insistent. Like a man.

“If I take this off,” Ethan said, “will you promise not to touch me here? Will you promise not to look?”

“That’d be hard.”

“But not impossible?”

Jacob considered this for a moment. He rose to his feet again, sliding off his pants as he did. He kissed Ethan and told him to turn over.

“Put your back to me, so I can at least feel your skin that way.”

Ethan liked this plan a lot more. He had to shimmy rather ungracefully to remove the binder. Once he did, he could breathe without pain. The air rushed into his lungs. He panted for several long moments before he faced the bedroom wall, toward the window, his back to Jacob. Jacob kept his promise and stayed right behind Ethan, so he couldn’t see his breasts from the side. He touched his back, over his spine, and rubbed out the kinks in his neck as Ethan caught his breath.

“You okay?” Jacob asked. “This going to be okay?”

“Y-y-yeah.”

Jacob directed Ethan into position, unmaking and remaking him with subtle strokes. Ethan leaned down on his elbows, face against Jacob’s bed sheets still alive with the smells of their other encounters. Jacob slid up behind Ethan, inside him, and thrust in a steady rhythm. Ethan slipped a hand between his wet thighs and brought himself over his extended clit. Jacob grunted nonsense as they fucked, like he always did. But the same harsh vowels and hand gestures as before were there. He fucked Ethan like he was still a guy, still a man, and all his.

Ethan cried out as he came. Jacob was close afterward, grasping his hips as he rolled to completion. Jacob kissed his neck, lining up their torsos together, like the opposite side of a mirror. Jacob trailed his fingers along Ethan’s waist, his thighs, and his clitoris as he brought him to another orgasm. When Jacob continued to go up toward Ethan’s breasts, he let him. He trusted him.

And Ethan was rewarded. Jacob didn’t touch him anywhere he didn’t want to be. His fingers rested solely on Ethan’s mark. His burden, his seal, and key home.

“Oh, Ethan,” Jacob said, kissing his neck again and again. “You have no idea how much power you have over me.”

Jacob was right. Ethan didn’t.