He thought he was dead. But he could hear his heart beating, so he must be alive. He was in a strange bed in a strange room and he couldn’t move. And good lord, he hurt all over, from his pounding head to his stinging ankles. Deciding that sinking back into oblivion was the best course of action, he reclosed his eyes.
“Drink this,” said a soft voice as someone slightly raised his head and shoulders and held a glass against his lips. It was easier to obey than argue, so Charles swallowed. Orange juice. Freshly squeezed, a little pulpy, and with added sugar. Just how he liked it.
“Ten?” He’d recognized not just the voice and the warm arm supporting him but also the beloved bittersweet scent. But he still didn’t open his eyes, in case he was imagining this. Maybe he was a ghost, dreaming at the bottom of the Bay.
“No questions now. You’re safe. Drink more. Rest. Heal. Master.” The last word came with an audible smile.
“What—” Charles let his lids flutter open. Tenrael sat beside him, cradling Charles in one arm and holding a glass of juice. His wings were furled tightly against his back and his red eyes glowed with concern.
“No questions. We can trade tales later.”
Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea; Charles lacked the strength to speak more than a few words anyway. The most important information was obvious, in any case. Charles was alive and with Tenrael, who appeared unharmed. They weren’t in a hospital, nor in their room at the St. Francis. Charles wanted to know at least whose bed he was in. “Where?”
“We are in Abe and Thomas’s house.”
That was a relief, yet it also raised more questions—which Charles could ask later. He finished off the juice and, exhausted, let Tenrael lay him back onto the pillow. Yet Charles wanted to maintain some direct contact, so with great difficulty he raised his right arm, which proved to be swathed in bandages, and settled his hand on Tenrael’s bare leg. Only then did Charles notice the gold encircling his own index finger. “Your ring.” Confused, he lifted his other arm with the intention of removing the jewelry, but Tenrael stopped him with a gentle grip.
“Keep it on, Master.”
“But—”
“No questions.” Tenrael ran his broad fingers through Charles’s hair, and it was such a ridiculously tender thing for a demon to do to a mongrel like him that Charles had to smile. A moment later, he slipped into sleep.
“This is the part where everyone gets to explain.” Abe, in shirtsleeves and stocking feet and with a bottle of liquor in one hand, looked delighted at the prospect. “And I don’t care if it’s none of my business, I’m listening in. Actually, it is my business, seeing as I’m a Bureau agent. So explain.”
Tenrael looked to Charles for instructions, apparently letting Charles take charge of everything but his own care and welfare. Tenrael remained firmly the boss when it came to that.
Charles sighed and set aside an empty pie tin. The treat had come from Bianchi’s, and he’d eaten half this morning and the other half a few minutes ago. A full belly was doing wonders for his strength, and after four days of lolling in bed and venturing no farther than the bathroom, he was eager to move around a little. He still wanted answers, but he didn’t especially want to relive that night at the Sea Dog. He certainly didn’t want to do it more than once.
“If we discuss this now, we’ll have to repeat it for Thomas’s sake.” Thomas was stuck down on the living room couch, still unable to navigate the stairs. And since Abe spent every night lying on a bedroll on the floor beside him, Charles had the benefit of Thomas and Abe’s comfy bed.
“I’ll tell him the story.” But Abe looked slightly guilty, probably over leaving his lover out of the main action.
“We’ll still have to explain to Townsend.”
Abe made a face. “Townsend. Yeah, I almost forgot that schmuck is involved.”
Charles nodded sympathetically. Now that he knew the events leading up to Abe and Thomas—and Townsend—joining the Bureau, he understood why his hosts were especially uncomfortable around the chief. Hell, even agents without that history were wary of the guy. “Can’t be helped. This is most definitely under Bureau jurisdiction.”
“I know. And he’s paying all of our rents.” Abe pointed the bottle at Tenrael. “He is paying you too, right?”
“Yes.”
Abe grinned and raised the bottle. “Mazel tov.” Then his expression grew serious. “Okay. I’ll call the mamzer and see if he wants to come up here.” Mumbling to himself, he left the bedroom.
Tenrael, who’d apparently decided this was a clothing-optional household, was kneeling beside the bed, looking entirely content. Charles ruffled his smooth dark hair, which felt like raw silk, and leaned back against the pillows. “This is a nice bed.”
“It is.” Ten had been sleeping with him, ever careful not to jostle Charles’s injuries.
“Maybe we should get a new mattress when we get home. Ours isn’t nearly this comfortable. We can afford it with what the Bureau’s paying me.”
“Paying us, Master. I have never spent my own money because, before this, I never had any to spend. I am looking forward to trying it.”
Charles chuckled at the image of his magnificent demon carrying a shopping basket through the aisles of a grocery store, accidentally brushing items off the shelves with his wings. He’d have to wear trousers for the pockets, or else carry a wallet in his hand. Would he collect Green Stamps, lick them, and stick them in a booklet? Or perhaps he’d interrogate the greengrocer about the proper kinds of apples for pie.
“You look happy, Master.”
Did he? That was a nice change. “I was thinking about how I never really expected the normal trappings of domesticity. But what I’ve ended up with is so much better.”
“You have bites all over your body.”
“And a demon at my side.”
Tenrael grinned. They might have investigated whether Charles was healed enough for gentle lovemaking, but Abe knocked and entered the room. “Townsend will be here in a couple of days. He’s dealing with a bigger crisis right now.”
“Fair enough.”
“But I’m not a patient man,” Abe continued. “Please can we do story time now?”
Well, Charles owed him that much at least, and he was eager to hear Tenrael’s side of the story. “All right. If I can get down the stairs so Thomas can hear too.”
“I will carry you,” Tenrael offered.
In the end, Charles didn’t have to suffer that indignity, although he leaned heavily on Tenrael and their descent was slow. Ten and Abe got him settled in a comfortable armchair with a blanket over his lap and a cup of hot lemon water at hand. Charles and Thomas exchanged sour looks.
“It’s like a bloody infirmary in here,” Thomas muttered.
Abe tsked. “But nobody’s dying—kein eyin hara—so stop grousing. Besides, have you ever seen an infirmary with a nurse like that?” He gestured at Tenrael, kneeling naked with wings furled beside Charles.
“You should have seen some of the nurses of His Majesty’s Armed Forces. I’d sooner cross a demon.”
Snorting, Abe arranged himself on the couch with Thomas’s legs lying across his lap and then poured himself several ounces of something that smelled like plums. “Nu? How did you end up chewed to bits?”
Since Abe and Thomas already knew about the missing soldiers and Collins’s disappearance, Charles brought them up to date. “Bertha’s nephew vanished too. We knew Collins had been nosing around the bars at the wharf, so that seemed like a reasonable place to look. I started at the Sea Dog because I was also a little concerned about the boy they’d had singing there. I figured I’d go in, ask a few questions, and move on if I didn’t find anything. Meanwhile, Tenrael was doing aerial reconnaissance.”
“Flying!” Abe exclaimed. “I can only guess how exhilarating it must be. To see the world from so high, and—” He grunted when Thomas kicked him with his good leg.
“Shut up, Avi.”
Abe cheerfully shot back something in Hungarian and then clamped his mouth shut.
Charles twisted the ring on his finger for a moment before continuing. “I had to drink some whiskey while I was in there—I’d look suspicious otherwise. And you know booze… doesn’t agree with me. The boy—Fish, they called him—was singing, and I… I forgot….” That wasn’t quite the right word for it, but how was he to describe the fog that had settled over his mind?
He huffed impatiently at himself. “I thought he was singing to me. It was all I could think about. So when he went out the back door, I followed him. I almost followed him right into the goddamn Bay.” Charles looked at Tenrael. “I’m so sorry, Ten. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get caught up with him.”
Tenrael looked serene. “It is what merfolk do. They enchant with their singing and lure people to their death. I should have suspected them to begin with, but I thought they were extinct. I have not heard of any in over three hundred years. But Master, you said you almost followed him into the water. Why was his spell not successful?”
“It was. I told you, he got me out of the bar and to the edge of the dock.”
“Yes.” Tenrael sounded pointedly patient, like an annoyed parent trying to explain something to an especially dim child. “To the edge of the dock but not over it. I saw you fighting him. Why?”
Charles thought back to those moments. He remembered Fish’s song wafting into his ears, the dock planks slippery under his shoes, the whiskey roiling in his stomach, the smells of salt and fish. The merman had reached for him, and Charles had very nearly taken his hand. Until….
“I remembered you.”
“Me?”
“How important you are to me. How much I love you.” Charles had never pictured himself making this declaration, much less in front of an audience, but it was worth seeing the way Ten’s eyes glowed.
“Your love for me broke the enchantment,” Tenrael said softly.
Charles thought how remarkable it was that an ancient being’s face could fill with such wonder. And then, silently cursing the stinging of his eyes, he swallowed some tea. “Yes. But not soon enough. Fish was strong, and the whiskey didn’t help my reactions. He pushed me into the Bay, and his buddies….” He shivered at the memory of their grips and their bites. “That’s all I know. This is where you come in.”
“I was flying.” Tenrael’s wings fluttered a bit as if to echo his words. Charles smoothed a few feathers and they stilled. “I saw you enter the Sea Dog and then I went away for a few minutes to assess the situation elsewhere. I should not have left you.”
“You were doing what I told you. Doing your job.”
“I thought I would return before you left, but I waited some time—circling above—and you did not appear. I wondered if I might have missed your departure. So I searched along the wharf and then inland, near where you said we would meet.”
“Behind the cannery,” Charles informed Abe and Thomas, who nodded in unison. “But I wasn’t there either.”
“I grew concerned. I considered donning the ring and the rest of my clothing so I might enter the Sea Dog, but I decided to fly back instead. I arrived just in time to see you fall.”
“Just in time to save me.”
Tenrael shook his head gravely, and when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “You were dead, Master. Or very nearly so. You were not breathing, and….” He worked his jaw and looked away.
“But I’m not dead. Right, Abe?” Because if anyone in the room was an expert on the subject, he was.
“As far as I can tell, you’re as alive as the rest of us.”
“You were so cold, Master. I set you on the ground, and you did not move. I… I shook you, but you were….” Tenrael swallowed audibly. “The blood was barely flowing from your wounds. Your heart was not beating.”
It was strange to hear these words about himself, especially with the familiar thud-thud strong in his chest. But it was more unsettling to see Tenrael’s distress. “What happened?”
“I removed the ring from my pocket and put it on your finger because it was all I had to give to you. As soon as it was on, you… returned to life. But you still needed a refuge to heal, so I brought you here.” He turned his attention toward the couch and bowed almost to the floor, then rose upright. “Abe and Thomas took us in.”
“After almost having a heart attack,” Abe said. “Have you ever answered your doorbell and discovered a demon carrying a shredded almost-corpse? I don’t recommend it.”
Apparently agreeing with that assessment, Thomas nodded.
Warmth suffused Charles. “But you let us in anyway. Thank you.”
“You really were a mess, pal. I’ve seen cadavers in better shape.” Abe grinned. “But here you are.”
“Did the ring save me somehow?”
Abe looked at Thomas, who shrugged. “I don’t know. But I bet Townsend does.”
For now, all the other gaps in the story were filled in. Except for one. On a hunch, Charles stroked Tenrael’s wing. “What happened to Fish and the other merfolk?”
“After Abe helped me clean and bandage you, when I was sure you would live, I flew back to the water. They had swum away, but I found them near an island.” Tenrael squared his shoulders. “I killed them.”
Despite the faint regret that Ten had killed for the first time in his long existence, a thrill ran through Charles. This ferocious creature had killed because of him. His demon. A being who could be tender and sweet and yielding—or now, terrible and deadly. He realized there was nothing wrong with these kinds of contradictions. A person did not have to fit neatly into some box. Charles was the son of a human and an angel. He wasn’t an abomination but rather another miracle. And if that son had dark urges, he had learned how to control them, just as Tenrael controlled his.
Charles was floored by these sudden, new feelings of worthiness.
“Will the Bureau be angry that I killed them?” asked Tenrael.
“The Bureau can go fuck itself.”
That was met with Abe’s raised glass and a “Hear, hear!” from Thomas. Charles decided he was feeling quite recovered indeed.
“Help me to bed?” he asked Tenrael. “I’m tired.” He knew he wasn’t fooling his hosts. They were, after all, detectives.
Tenrael’s eyes gleamed.