Chapter Twelve

“IF YOU SAY ‘I told you so,’ I’m gonna huck your sniper rifle off a cliff.”

Ravi puts the car in park and holds his hands up to fend off Harry’s accusation.

Val’s ashen brows shadow glowing eyes. “I will keep my explanation brief. Time may be a factor. Earlier, Constance called to inform me that if she did not call back in an hour, I should alert the team and go to a particular spot in the woods fully armed.”

“And it’s been over an hour?” Ravi asks grimly, unclasping his seatbelt.

“No. It has been only a little over five minutes. I did not like the tone of her voice.” The angel takes a breath, pauses, then lets it out. “I took some initiative.”

“Atta girl,” Harry says, lips hiking in a half smile.

“After assessing the situation, I fetched the professor. He is already with Constance. Will you come? This situation may require a more human touch than I possess.”

Harry starts stuffing her things into her bag. “Of course, big gal, with bells on. Why Nate first?”

“He is the most congenial of you.”

“Well golly, don’t spare our feelings or anything. Let’s go.”

“What’s the situation?” Ravi readies himself for the unpleasant swoop of teleportation as Val clamps a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Constance is summoning a demon.”

*

THEY MATERIALIZE IN a wooded glade at the edge of a meadow clearing. A circle has been painted into the center of the clearing, with a complicated mesh of sigils ringed by a profusion of wildflowers. It would otherwise offer quite a picturesque scene if it weren’t for the unsettling beam of red light pouring up through sigils, making the surrounding forest look as if it were awash in blood. Thick waves of tangible heat ripple off the painted runes, nearby flora wilting and sizzling. The woods are conspicuously absent of bird calls or insect song.

Dread brings sweat to Ravi’s palms. He can’t read a lick of magic, but he knows a demon summoning circle as well as any field agent. One of the highest offenses a mage can commit; some of the worst disasters in history had been caused by reckless warlocks calling up demons in hopes of obtaining power, knowledge, or revenge. It rarely went as smoothly as the mage planned.

Constance stands at the edge of the circle with both hands raised and trembling, her usual cheer stripped away. Loose strands of hair escape the braids framing her grimly determined face and curl aloft with the heat. Griswold prowls around her boots like a miniature jungle cat, hackles raised and eyes glowing yellow.

Bathed in red light, Nate inches a step closer to Constance, his posture loose and non-threatening. “—if we can just talk this through first, I promise I’ll help you with anything you need, Constance. You know that we care about— Oh, look, the others are here, thank Christ. We’re all here now. We want to help you, Constance, we do, so just…close the portal, okay?”

“Speaketh not to me as though I were a mere stripling, Nathan.” Constance’s throat sounds raw, her speech slipping in and out of archaic diction. She lifts her chin, the light not helping the dark shadows under her eyes. “I know what I am doing.”

“Okay, good,” Harry breezes, stepping closer to peer at the circle. “Because I have no clue what’s going on. What are you doing?”

Ravi sidles alongside her, his heart in his throat. “It’s a hell portal, Harry.” All Constance has to do is call up a being from that plane of existence, or even get sloppy with her concentration, and they’re all in very deep shit.

Constance says, “You heard the information broker. We may set a demon to catch a demon. My nemesis hath walked free in this land of milk and honey too long, supping on souls while I have been doing nothing. Messing about in the future enjoying myself while Hartnell murders innocents.” Her voice cracks.

The blue flame of Val’s eyes has gone violet with hell-light. “We shall find him and end him. But this is not the way.”

Constance shakes her head. “None of the information thou all have gathered is of any help. My quarry has gone to ground and eludes my best efforts to hunt him. It is not as easy as it once was, tracking through wealds and over roads. But if I call a rival demon prince and bind it to my service long enough to—”

“And then what, Constance?” demands Ravi. “Let’s say everything goes as planned, which it rarely does. You bind this new demon to obey you and hunt down your old demon. What happens when the binding spell runs out? What bargains will you have to make?”

“I know the risks, witch-hunter. At least Hartnell will be dead,” Constance spits.

Nate asks, “Did they have the story about swallowing a spider to catch the fly in your time?”

“My time,” Constance sneers, an alien look on her friendly face. “What do you know of it? You don’t know what it’s like to be so unthinkably far away from everything you know, from the people you love. None of you truly understand. You all speak of my time as if I should be grateful to be rid of it, but it was my home. I…I miss knowing how things are done and how to dress and how to speak. I miss my family.” A tear spills down her cheek. At her feet, Griswold sets a paw on the top of her thick leather boot, looking up at her.

Harry steps over the painted lines and brushes the tear away. “What are we, chopped liver?”

Constance coughs a thick-throated laugh, then shakes her head. “I cannot even visit my homestead. The Weir Wood is gone. There is a lake now where my cottage once stood. My brothers and sisters have all been dead for so long that their graveyards no longer remain. Their bones are lost to dust and memory.” She stares into the hell portal, unseeing and wistful. “The air used to taste different. There was more birdsong, the forests thicker. The stars are now all in the wrong place. No one remembers how the night used to look.”

“I do.”

Val flinches as she walks past the crackling heat of the infernal rift but doesn’t slow until she stands beside Constance. “I remember how the heavens would wheel overhead, how on clear nights they could cast starlight as brightly as day. I remember much, my friend, and I too have known loss. But this will not bring any of what you have lost back to you.”

Constance sags, hands falling to her sides. The portal doesn’t flicker or dim the way it might for a less accomplished sorceress.

Ravi keeps his eye fixed on it, alert for anything attempting to sneak out. He’s underequipped with only his gun, knuckledusters, and a small flask of holy water. He scans the surrounding trees to gauge the clearance he’d need to fight, for potential tripping hazards and possible improvised weapons, all the while painfully aware that Nate is completely unarmed.

“Mayhaps not. But if it shall keep that accursed demon from slaughtering more folk, it shall be worth any cost. Another body was found this last fortnight. A bit of flotsam beset by fish for many moons afore she washed up ashore. Another life snuffed out, and I carry the blame.”

Harry’s shades reflect crimson as she pushes them up her head. “That’s awful, Constance, I’m really sorry. How’d you even find that out? It’s been tough going tracking his known kills. Fucker keeps changing up his hunting patterns.”

Constance waves vaguely to her leather satchel on the ground against a nearby tree trunk. “Bobby sent me a file.”

“Thought you called him off the case.” Ravi frowns. Oddly, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The hell portal seems clear, so he’s not sure what’s pinging his instincts.

Nate picks up the satchel and pulls out a thick manila folder. He opens it, immediately blanches, and closes it again. “I could have done without seeing that.”

Harry extends her hand. “Gimme.” Nate hands it over and she starts sheafing through it, the picture of professionalism. The furrow between her brows deepens.

In the meantime, Val hasn’t taken her flaming eyes off Constance. “You would set a demon loose into the world to avenge your cousin. You would send another to enact your vengeance instead of facing your enemy yourself.”

Back stiffening, Constance sucks in a sharp sip of breath. She pulls a thick plait over her shoulder and gives it a reflexive tug. “I…nay, Valiance. I would take the fight to mine nemesis. Control the battlefield. I want him flushed out as pheasants from the brush before the arrows fly. I want him cornered, with no ground to go to, to hound and harass him until he has no spirit left within him to fight.”

Her words strike a chord, a fierce little string plucked to resonate deep in Ravi’s chest.

Val simply nods. “We will help you.”

“This isn’t right,” Harry declares, looking up from the file. “Rav, check this out. Does The Trust do their reports like this? Because cops and private eyes sure as hell don’t.”

He peers over her shoulder. Something’s off, that’s immediately obvious. The pictures are gruesome, camera flash shining off flayed skin, but they’re arranged like a scrapbook. The missing persons and autopsy reports look hastily copied, not even stapled together. Like something out of a movie; not a real report but a sensationalist assortment all for show. Sloppy.

“We do not.”

Constance’s face knits in confusion. “To what art thou referring? Thou believe the information to be false?”

“Not exactly.” Ravi shares a meaningful glance with Harry. “But there’s no way Robert Hernandez sent this to you.”

“This was meant to upset you, Constance,” Harry says grimly, tucking the folder under her arm. “To provoke you so you’d do something rash. Three guesses who likely orchestrated this little jab.”

“That fucking asshole!” Nate throws his hands up in the air and stalks a few steps away, back turned. “Ostie que je suis tanné!”

Ravi scrubs a hand over his jaw, spirits sinking. “Yeah. That tracks. Constance is the only one who’s figured out a way to keep Cayenne from manipulating time. Makes sense they’d want her distracted.”

Easy enough to remove her from the equation, they had said, silkily and suggestive, before claiming it wasn’t a threat.

“Or killed.” A growl underlies Val’s resonant voice. “There are endless ways for a demon summoning to go wrong. The summoner can be killed or incapacitated, or even be dragged through the portal themselves.”

Constance looks from one face to the other, then down at Griswold. The familiar lashes his tail and hisses, “Vile trickery and deceit! A missive of calumnies and legerdemain! This wretched warlock of time shall meet my claws, mistress, and—”

“Hush, Griswold, my knight.” Constance sighs softly. Her fingers twist in a complicated downward succession, as if playing a glissando on invisible harp strings.

Like a switch being flipped, the unearthly red light cuts out, grass blackened and steaming beneath their feet as the hell portal closes. Ravi’s coiled tension eases, though he’s still holding back a quiet, consuming fury.

Fair enough to strike out at him, at The Trust. At least he understands Cayenne’s motives there, as warped as they are. But to purposely endanger his team? To taunt Constance with images of her enemy’s victims to goad her into exposing herself and others to indescribable danger?

Ravi seethes.

At his shoulder, Nate radiates a calm so grounding that Ravi’s able to take a series of soothing breaths, to fix his attention back on the present.

“Well.” Constance’s voice is a bit frail at the edges, and her smile isn’t better off. “If that knave intends for me to do a thing, that is a fairly compelling reason to not do it, aye?”

“Aye.” Harry pulls Constance into a side-hug, heads together. “We’re gonna get him, Constance. I swear it. I’m a divinely mandated demon killer now. Hartnell’s going down, the slimy fuck.”

“He hides from you because he is a coward,” Val says with certainty. “We shall flush him out, and when you slay him, history shall forget him utterly.”

Constance gives Val a long, hard look, then nods once with satisfaction. “A curse worthy of my time.”

Behind them a sharp crack accompanies a sudden bright flash, illuminating the clearing like lightning. Ravi shoves Nate behind him and spins around, gun leaping to his hand. Val’s wings snap out and Harry complains, “Oh, what fucking now?”

A man stumbles from nothingness onto the grass, eyes wild. “Stop! Don’t do it! It’s a trick—oh.” He stares at the group and blinks in confusion. “I thought… Sorry, is this the right day?” He pushes up a sleeve to look at one of his watches, as he wears a stack of them in varying styles all up his arm. He taps at one with a carved wooden band.

Ravi tilts up the muzzle of his gun. “James.”

James smiles wanly. “Hi.” Then his nose starts gushing blood.

Constance tuts and plucks a handful of leaves from a nearby plant. She strides up to James in a no-nonsense manner. “Move thy hands, my fellow. Put this yarrow up thy nostrils. There we are! That shall quell the bleeding.” She wipes at his face with a bit of her sleeve.

James slumps, face red, leaves shoved up his nose. He bled last time too, which he attributed to his method of time travel, a technology instead of magic. Much rougher on the body, he’d claimed.

Where Cayenne is all flash and flamboyance, James is aggressively average. His plain clothing and haircut could easily be at home in most countries anywhere from the ’40s to present, and likely will be for decades to come. He has a forgettable face. If someone were trying to relay details to a sketch artist, they might say, “White guy, maybe? Curly hair, I think?”

“To what do we owe this unexpected visit, my good man?” Constance asks as Griswold sniffs at James’s pant leg, whiskers pushed far forward.

James averts his eyes, scuffing brown shoes into the grass. “I came to save your life,” he mutters.

Harry flaps a dismissive hand, pitching her voice into the particular type of chirpy sarcasm she favors. “Oh, the demon summoning thing? We got that covered, thanks, dude. Guess you zapped back in time for nothing. That’s so embarrassing.”

“’Tis good to see you, however!” Constance grins, hands akimbo. Her dark mood seems banished with the portal, and she tosses some braids over her shoulder. “We have many queries we’d hoped you could answer.”

Finally, a chance to get some answers. Cutting through to the most important question, Ravi holsters his gun and steps forward. “Have you been helping us by ruining Cayenne’s plans?”

“Oh, no. What are they doing this time? I can’t keep track anymore. They’re flinging out paradoxes left and right, it’s a nightmare. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not me. I just keep an eye out for Conssssss—for…conflict. I keep an eye out for specific types of conflict.” James darts a glance up at Constance and back down to his unremarkable brown shoes.

They all stare at him.

“Oookay,” Harry drawls. “Well, cool to see you, dude. Do you know what a shitshow the last year has been for us?”

“It wasn’t like this last time I was here!” He throws up his hands in distress, voice stuffy from the leaves crammed up his nose. “The timeline is in shambles. Mapping it has been impossible.”

“Yeah, we’ve been hearing that,” Nate pipes up from beside Ravi. “Hey, are you behind the special delivery that showed up on Harry’s door?” It’s a smart leap of logic. The plain brown package the urumi came in wasn’t Cayenne’s style, but it certainly was James’s.

“A delivery? No? What delivery?” James looks genuinely lost, like a confused puppy. “And how come there isn’t a hell portal here spilling out imps and hellhounds?”

Harry briskly snaps her fingers a few times. “Because of the power of friendship, keep up. Glad you’re as sick of all the time travel bullshit as we are. So, in your future timeline, there should be an open portal to demon city here?”

James holds up his wrist and taps a watch. He peers closely at a small but complex holographic display that pops up a few inches above his arm.

“That’s pretty cool,” Nate mutters, his breath warming Ravi’s ear. Impressed despite himself, Ravi nods in agreement.

James clicks his tongue as the display winks out. “There should have been. I came to stop it. It was going to be this…this whole thing.” Crestfallen, he finally manages to meet Constance’s gaze. “I know I’m nowhere near your level of ability, but I wanted to help.”

Constance gives a hearty scoff. “Nonsense! You can trip yourself back and forth through the veil of time itself! Whether thou callest it magic or mechanism, ’tis a thing I cannot manage.”

James leans forward in fervent admiration. “Oh, but no one has ever managed to jump through time as far as you have, natural chronomancer or no! Most time travelers have a hard limit of three centuries max before or after their birth. Eight hundred years is insane! It must have taken so much energy.”

“Well. I was quite vexed.”

“Wow,” James breathes, stars practically shining in his eyes.

Harry stuffs the manila folder into her brimming bag. “James, my dude, you wanna go get a drink and chat while you’re here? Promise to only interrogate you a little.” James awkwardly chews his lip before he finally nods. “Awesome. Everyone ready to go?”

“Actually,” Nate interjects, “something happened at the university that I want to fill Ravi in on, if he has no objections. You can catch us up on—wait, hold up. Is that an engagement ring?” He goggles at Harry’s hand.

Harry glances down at her ring, infinitely casual. “Oh yeah. It’s official. Ravi popped the…the not question exactly, but the tactically sound alliance? Yeah, that’s been solidified. Something was popped, anyway. Really swept me off my feet. Ah, fuck, we’re gonna need to reschedule that meeting with your aunt.” She doesn’t seem too broken up about it.

“Got it covered. What happened at the university, it’s a pressing issue?” Ravi is torn; he’d very much like to spend more one-on-one time with Nate, but he also wants to grill James for anything that could help give the team an edge. Especially if Cayenne is making a play on his teammates. He has to remember to take one breath after another, quashing the sharp swell of his anger.

Nate shifts, discomfited. “It’s…no. Personal, not pressing. I think.” Something in his voice gives Ravi pause.

“You guys go,” Harry waves. “We got this.” She slides an arm over Constance’s shoulder and gives Ravi a significant look. Yeah, okay, she’s a way better investigator than he is. He can trust that if James has any important info, Harry will extract it with ease. “Val, would you mind escorting the gents?”

“I would not.” Without ceremony, Val picks up and dumps Griswold into James’s arms, who squeaks as he clumsily juggles the large cat. “I shall teleport you both to Ravi’s vehicle.”

“Thanks, Val.” Nate looks around at the forest clearing. “I have no idea where we are right now.”

Val sets her hands to their shoulders and with an unsettling, falling-in-a-dream sensation, they’re on the shoulder of the highway, cars whizzing by fast enough to stir their hair. Ravi blinks off the static and sets his hand to the door handle, engaging the auto-unlock.

“Better than a roller coaster,” Nate laughs, clapping Val on the arm before moving to the passenger door.

“Thanks,” Ravi tells her, and is about to open the door when two meaty hands settle on his shoulders. “Val?”

“I wish to speak with you tomorrow morning.”

“I… Okay, yeah. What’s going on?”

“You need not be alarmed. I merely have…” She stops as if uncertain, closing her eyes, and it’s the most human expression Ravi has ever seen on her. For a moment, she appears to be simply a tall, well-muscled woman with an ash-white ponytail, not like an ancient being of light and righteous fury given flesh. Then her eyes flash back open, glowing like white-hot pearls. “I have information to volunteer.”

“Okay.” He’s curious but doesn’t want to push. Val isn’t naturally forthcoming, to put it mildly.

Her smile is a barely-there tick of her lips. “Good. Dress casually.” She whisks away with the sound of fluttering feathers.

Once Ravi is steering the Escalade back into traffic, he asks Nate, “Where to?”

“You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“There’s a cool ’50s style diner around here. We could do breakfast for dinner.”

“I know the one. It’s close by.” Ravi glances at the clock. “I’ve got to check in with my aunt. Do you mind?”

“Not at all, my guy, do your work stuff. I promise not to eavesdrop on your super-secret Trust business.”

Ravi snorts and slips a bud in his ear while he cues up the call.

Padme picks up immediately, cutting the first ring in half. “Ravi?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I have never known you to be late.” Her throaty voice has a strictly controlled edge, carefully emotionless. “I am sure there is some overwhelmingly pressing reason you and the Chosen have been delayed.”

“There was a minor emergency. It’s handled. We’re going to have to reschedule.”

“I see,” comes Padme’s permafrost drawl. “I suppose I have no choice but to bend to your wishes.” An affronted sniff.

Ravi pauses. “The engagement is official.”

Nate shifts in his seat, propping his head up on his fist and gazing out the window.

Her frost melts into rare, genuine warmth. “Khushkhabri. Excellent. This is—” She clears her throat. “This is good news, agent. And it could not come at a better time. The Katarajus and even the Prestons have been rattling their sabers about our bloodline’s obvious unsuitability to bear Durga’s favor, and this…hmm.”

He raises his eyebrows and waits. His aunt interrupts herself even more rarely than Val does.

“This affords us an opportunity. We shall make the announcement at the Gala. In one move, we shall solidify the new Chosen’s place in The Trust and our family’s rightful place alongside her. Your place.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Always a safe bet when he’s not sure how she wants him to answer.

“Then there is much to do. A multitude of preparations to oversee.”

“Harry wants to ride in on an elephant.”

Nate snorts, then quickly covers his mouth with his hand. Ravi shoots him a small, sly grin.

Padme is silent, and Ravi holds his breath, bracing for a tirade about tradition and seemliness and who-knows-what-else.

“Nephew, your betrothed can ride in on my back if it will secure this wedding.”

Ravi blinks. “I, ah. Don’t think that will be necessary.”

“No? We shall stick with the elephant, then? As you wish.” Padme sniffs again, this time a swift expression of pleasure. “Good hunting, Ravi.” The line goes dead.

Ravi removes the earbud. “I think she’s pleased.”

“How can you tell? If your aunt smiled, her face would crack like an egg.”

Ravi chuckles. After a long moment of silence, he looks over to find Nate watching him intently. “What?”

“You’re really handsome, you know that?”

The unexpected compliment sends a flush to his cheeks. He tears his eyes away to concentrate on the road.

Nate grins. “Your dick has been in me, but you blush at that. It’s cute.”

Heat flares up under Ravi’s skin, the vivid memory of the slick warmth of Nate’s body crystal clear in his mind.

He coughs. “Want to tell me what happened at work, or do you want to wait until we get to the diner?”

Nate’s smile fades a fraction. “I think it’s best on a full stomach. Or at least when we’re not in a moving vehicle.”

“Sure.” Ravi takes the exit and changes the subject. “I feel for Constance.”

“Yeah, me too. She’s integrating amazingly well, but sometimes communication is still an issue. Her values are different than modern ones. I could tell I wasn’t convincing her to shut the portal down. Really glad you and Harry showed up when you did.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Ravi protests with a guilty pang. The situation could have gone real ugly, real fast. The standard operating protocol for hell portals can be summed up in two words: Avoid them.

“Yes, you did. You made us all feel safer just by being there.” Bracing his hands on the center console, Nate leans over and plants a quick kiss to Ravi’s cheek, almost at the corner of his mouth. “It’s nice knowing a guy who can kick an imp in half.”

Despite his rising blush from the kiss, Ravi splutters a laugh. “I’ve never kicked an imp in half.”

Nate raises up a single finger. “You’ve never kicked an imp in half yet. I believe in you.”

Biting down on a smile, Ravi pulls into the parking lot of the silver-shining retro diner. By habit he parks far back from the entrance, in a shady spot away from other cars. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Guilty as charged.”

The restaurant is the perfect amount of busy. No one near enough to eavesdrop, but enough ambient conversation buzzing to foil any listening devices. Ravi picks a table that’ll allow him to keep his back to the wall and still maintain a view of the whole diner.

“You’re like a meerkat. Always on alert.”

Ravi’s shoulders tense. “I can’t turn it off,” he mutters into the tabletop.

Nate smiles over his menu. “That was in no way a criticism, my guy. Meerkats are alert and adorable. You be your badass secret agent self.”

A little twist of pleasure curls in Ravi’s gut. “Want to tell me what happened earlier?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Nate gnaws on his lower lip, teeth leaving a furrow Ravi wants to trace with his tongue. “Look, Ravi. I’m not going to hide things from you. You’ve had enough people lying to you and keeping secrets. I’m always going to be upfront with you, okay?”

Ravi straightens at Nate’s lack of levity. “Okay.”

“Cayenne came to the quad at my school. Wanted to have a little chat with me.”

Instantly Ravi is hyperaware of his surroundings, pulse hiking high. “You’re okay? What happened? What did they do?” There’s no telling what a spurned time assassin might do if they had the whim and motivation. Fuck, he should have insisted on more wards, somehow secured places of work too.

“They said some nasty shit, but that’s it. And they know. About us sleeping together.”

Ravi can’t breathe for a moment. “They said that?”

“Yeah. But they said it didn’t matter, so, I guess that’s good? They didn’t Donnie Darko me, so that’s something.”

“Donnie who?”

“Sorry, pop culture reference.” Nate reflexively reaches his hands over the table, then draws them back with a furtive glance around. “I’m fine. They were salty about it, but not violent.”

Ravi wishes they weren’t in public so Nate could have touched him. “Fuck. An attempt to provoke Constance. And another to put pressure on you.” He scrubs a hand over his jawbone. “Prodding for vulnerabilities. Seeing how the team can be weakened. It’s a sound strategy.”

“Surprising, really,” Nate says dryly, “considering they’re not known for their superior strategic skills.”

“Yeah. Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to spill over on you. Fuck,” he hisses, sinking low in the booth. “Anything could have happened to you, and there’s nothing I could have done…”

The waitress finally comes over with a carafe of coffee. While she pours, Ravi broods. Who’s next on Cayenne’s To Fuck With list? Val? Harry? They’ve been lucky so far, but Cayenne only has to be lucky once. All of Ravi’s training is for nothing when there’s no way to prepare. No way to defend. He’s fighting blind, stumbling around in the dark. Useless.

I would take the fight to mine nemesis, Constance had said, all rage and vengeance. Control the battlefield. Flushed out as pheasants from the brush.

Surprise me. Blindside me. I will always have an advantage unless you take it away from me.

And as simple as opening his eyes, Ravi has a plan.

It…could work.

“Ravi?”

“Hm?”

Nate indicates the waitress waiting impatiently at his side. “I said, you ready to order?”

Holstering his plan into the back of his mind, Ravi forcibly drags himself to the present. “Sorry.” He orders, and when the waitress leaves, he asks, “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah, sunshine, I’m fine. I’d rather it be me than you, to be frank. I just wanted you to know what happened. And if you want the others to know too, that’s up to you. It’s your decision.”

“A warning can’t go amiss. I’ll let Harry and Val know they might be next.” He’ll text them tonight. Forewarned is forearmed.

With an angry snort, Nate looks away. “If we’re lucky they’ll try Val.” He rubs the back of his neck with a sigh. “And here I was hoping I’d get to take you on a date without any gloom and doom.”

Ravi pauses mid-sip of his coffee. “Is this a date, then?”

A slow smile tugs at Nate’s cheeks. He’s got nice dimples, Ravi notices, and not for the first time. “It could be. I should have sprung for somewhere less tacky, huh?”

Ravi takes in the metal-paneled walls, the red vinyl curves of the diner stools, the little rotating pie case lit up with neon. “I actually love this kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing? Kitschy?”

“Kitschy,” Ravi repeats, lingering over syllables he so rarely gets to use. “No, I mean classic Americana.”

Nate smiles, leaning his chin on his hands. His eyes are very blue. “What do you like about it?”

“It’s exotic.”

Nate laughs. “Fair.”

The food comes out quickly. Bacon and a big pile of pancakes for Nate, and one plain egg white omelet with a side of fruit for Ravi.

As they dig in, Nate pours syrup and notes, “You’re not very food motivated, are you?”

“Not especially.” His shoulders tense of their own volition, ready for an argument, or to be harangued into ordering extra.

But Nate just nods. “You’ve got a favorite food though, right?”

“Of course.” Ravi can’t remember if anyone’s ever asked him that before. “Keralan coconut prawn.”

“Ooh.” Nate crunches bacon. “Sounds tasty. Your family is from Chennai?”

“The outskirts. For the last couple centuries, yeah.”

“Yeah, no big deal, a few centuries.”

“Constance has a point. Everything here only dates back so far.”

“They don’t call it the New World for nothing,” Nate chuckles, dipping his bacon in syrup. “So did you jet out to Kerala special just for the coconut shrimp?”

“No,” Ravi scoffs, taking a perfunctory bite of the omelet. “Occasional business took me there.”

Nate looks up with avid interest. “I sense a story.”

“I’m not good at stories.”

“Well, that’s patently ridiculous. Voice like yours, I’d listen to anything you want to tell me.”

“My stories just end up depressing people.”

“Try me.”

“Fine.” Ravi puts down his coffee and leans back in the booth, arms crossed. “So, my first time in Kerala, this standard-level monster was attacking a town. I was sent for field training. My very first monster hunt. The strike team leader was like, ‘Okay, kid, this thing is fairly straightforward, just needs to take a lot of damage and it’ll go down. No fancy weaknesses or anything. We’ll get it warmed up, and you can take it down.’”

Ravi pushes his hair back off his forehead. He’d been so eager to finally put all his training to use. He’d wanted to prove himself. To tell his mom he held his own.

“So, they’re fighting it, the strike team, but I was really excited about my first hunt, because I was fifteen and an idiot, so I kept trying to jump in. Because that’s going to be my job someday, right? I wanted to learn.

“But every time I tried to engage, one of the squad leaped into the fray, and I’m just thinking… What the fuck is up with this team? Crazy reckless. Keep making dumb mistakes, leaving themselves open for attack. Bizarre tactics for a straightforward mission and such an experienced team of field agents.”

Nate watches him with wide eyes. “So, what happened?”

“I found out later that this poor team’s real objective was to keep me alive. The monster stuff was just to get me blooded. Pretty sure my aunt gave them a shovel talk beforehand; ‘Not one hair on his head,’ kind of thing. So, every time I tried to engage, the agents were all having heart attacks, trying to jump between me and the monster until it was sufficiently weakened. Anyway, I did manage to wedge myself in there and get in some good hits. Barely avoided taking some damage. The team leader was livid, but we took the thing down. And then as soon as the monster was dead, the leader looked over at his team and said, ‘I’m fucking retiring.’”

Nate bursts out laughing and clamps a hand over his mouth.

Gratified, Ravi smirks.

“Okay,” Nate says with mirth, “both funny and horrifying, like all the best myths. See, you’re great at stories.” His eyes sparkle as he lays an arm across the table. His hand rests almost but not quite on Ravi’s side, close enough to touch. “Thanks for telling it to me.”

Fingers twitching with the suppressed desire to take Nate’s hand, Ravi shrugs, willing the blood warming his ears to disperse.

“Why a strike team? Why not with your mom and uncle?”

“Ah.” Ravi slices up his omelet with the edge of a fork. “They were off… Where were they that time? I want to say Madagascar? Some kind of ooze in the trees. A rot coming in from another plane of reality, or something like that. Sounds about right.” He chases a forkful of eggs around his plate. “Anyway, that’s why I first went to Kerala. Not exactly for the cuisine, or the black sand beaches.”

“You know, I bet Val could pop over and grab you some fresh coconut shrimp if you asked her. Chances are good she’s been there before.”

“Seems like misappropriation of angel.”

“Yeah, I suppose. Guess I’ll just have to learn the recipe and make you some. I’ll add it to the list with poutine,” Nate promises, smiling.

The sweetness of the offer takes Ravi off-guard. He bites down on a return grin and warns, “It’s spicy.”

“Eh, I’ll suffer through.” Nate winks. His expression shifts minutely. “I meant to say earlier, congratulations.”

“For what?”

Nate rolls his eyes. “For getting engaged, dude.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Despite himself, Ravi laughs, spearing a chunk of melon. “Thanks.”

“I think it’s cool how the two of you are taking a shitty situation and making it work for you. You’re taking an unfair system and working it to get what you want. It’s inspiring.”

“I…thanks.” Ravi clears his throat. “When we get enough say over how the system works, we can change it into a different system. A fair system. And we will.”

Nate beams. “See? Inspiring.”

It’s Ravi’s turn to roll his eyes. “There are a lot of changes I want to make. Changes I will make.”

“Is there a reason you keep doing that, my guy?” With his fork Nate gestures to the tense line of Ravi’s posture, the way he’s tilted up his chin in challenge. “If I’m doing something that upsets you, let me know and we can talk about it.”

Ravi jerks his head back, flat-footed. “You’re not…no. It’s…” The realization hits him like lead in his gut, and he grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I keep expecting a fight,” he scoffs at himself, sourness twisting in his stomach. “Shouting and arguing and…and then make-up sex,” he finishes with a barren, derisive laugh, unable to meet Nate’s gaze.

He had been all too willing to overlook how often he and Cayenne fought when they were together, assuming it was part and parcel of falling in love. The cost of any relationship, surely. How was he to know different? All those arguments and fights were surely just proof of their passion. A cycle he’d evidently grown so accustomed to, a part of him expects it even still. But now, like a veil removed from his memory, each instance of friction is starkly illuminated. How could he have been so fucking naïve? Had he been so starved for any affection he was willing to put up with constant antagonism?

“We can skip the fighting and just have the sex.”

Nate finishes a bite of pancake, licking the syrup from his fork. Ravi watches the path of his tongue, the train of his thoughts completely derailed. He attempts to dig through the wreckage but can’t salvage a single surviving brain cell.

Nate grins, eyes roving over Ravi as if he’s thinking about shoving his pancakes off the table and trying a bite of Ravi instead. “You ever gotten a handjob in the back of that semi-truck you drive around?”

Ravi’s throat clicks as he swallows. “No one’s ever talked to me the way you do.”

Nate’s manner softens. “Too much?”

Ravi takes a long breath, locking their gaze. “No.”

A rakish grin spreads slow and warm over Nate’s handsome face. “Good to know.”

“You’re very…forthright.”

“I’m a forthright kind of guy.”

Ravi huffs a low laugh. “I’ve noticed. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

A flush blossoms at the edge of Nate’s collar and creeps up his neck. “Sure you have,” he says incredulously.

“I really haven’t.”

Nate bites his lower lip before asking, “So, any plans after this?”

Ravi doesn’t look away, vision tunneling on white teeth catching at the softness of Nate’s lip. “The rest of my schedule today has been unexpectedly freed up.” He watches color bloom even higher on Nate’s cheeks, vividly remembering how it took over the whole of Nate’s body like a rush of fever, how good it looked against white bed sheets. Greatly daring, Ravi slides his foot under the table until his shoe presses close to Nate’s.

Nate breathes out shakily, his foot pressing back. “Sometimes you get this predatory look that makes it very hard to think clearly.”

“Do I?” Ravi tips his head to the side with a small, toothy smile.

“You’re still doing it,” Nate protests weakly.

“How would you prefer I look at you?”

“Maybe under some mood lighting.”

Nate requests the check from the waitress with a polite gesture. As he does, his socked foot suddenly slides up Ravi’s inseam. Ravi jumps in surprise, silverware clattering. His face blazes hot until the wicked little smirk Nate gives him sends his blood rushing south.

“Nate,” Ravi hisses, eyes darting around the diner.

“Hm?” Nate sets his chin on both hands, eyes round and innocent. “Something wrong, sunshine?” Then, softer, “This okay?”

“You—” Ravi exhales sharply, swallows, then offers, “My car windows are tinted.”

“I’ve noticed.” Nate’s eyes glitter. “How are the shocks?”

With a breathless laugh, Ravi scoots forward in the booth, mindlessly chasing sensation. The ball of Nate’s foot finds Ravi’s growing arousal against his thigh and presses. Ravi fights the impulse to shut his eyes, to let his head fall back against the vinyl.

“Ah. They’re, um. Fine?”

“So, no one is gonna be coming a-knockin’?” Nate teases, passing his credit card to the waitress as she swings by. Ravi freezes statue-still until she leaves, his fingers clenched so tightly around the edge of the table that he might leave dents in the laminate.

“My treat,” Nate says magnanimously. “You’re a cheap date, anyway.” His toes wriggle.

Ravi gulps, rallying to find a response that isn’t just wordless moaning. “If…if I’d have known you’d be buying, I would have ordered the lobster.”

It feels like a victory when Nate cracks up, dimples playing at the corners of his smile.

*

IN THE BACK of the Escalade, cursing under his breath with impatience, Ravi fumbles at Nate’s belt while Nate is similarly occupied trying to remove Ravi’s double-breasted waistcoat. Maybe he’s got a point about all the buttons.

Ravi’s jacket and tie have already been strewn over the headrest with his shoulder holster. They hadn’t made much headway on Nate’s blazer, only shoved it partway off broad shoulders, the fabric straining. Pausing his sartorial labors, Nate drags Ravi down to seal their lips together in a hungry kiss that he doesn’t break until the need for air becomes a pressing concern. Even then he just surges right back in, as if he could survive solely on oxygen he gleans from Ravi’s lungs.

“Wanna feel you,” Nate gasps into Ravi’s mouth, the words more felt than heard as he finally manages to wrench the last waistcoat button loose. He yanks it down Ravi’s arms and blindly tosses it in the right direction. “Ravi—”

“Nathaniel.” It’s a promise sketched in breath that Ravi aims into the shell of a very pink ear. His hands are busy sneaking up Nate’s untucked shirt. Bare chest ripples under his touch, skin blazing hot.

A full-body shiver rolls through Nate. “Fuck,” escapes in an airless hiss, his eyes glazed and darkening with arousal.

A perfect opportunity to press his advantage. Ravi tugs the belt from the loops, unzips the fly, and pulls Nate out, already flushed and throbbing in his hand. It’s a heady sensation, the naked want in Nate’s voice, the open, boneless sprawl of his body, the way he keens and pushes up into Ravi’s fist. Every line of his solid frame is an invitation, begging Ravi to take.

Ravi straddles Nate’s hips. “To answer your earlier question: no, I have not,” he growls, pulling down his zipper and guiding Nate’s hand to his rampant cock in one smooth motion.

Nate grins, tongue flicking out to wet kiss-bruised lips. He wraps his fingers tight, thumbing back the hood and stroking with an easy confidence that makes Ravi short of breath.

“No time like the present,” Nate laughs, cheeks ruddy, sweat beading on his forehead. He looks like he was made for this, for laughing and kissing and sharing pleasure in the backseats of other people’s cars.

Ravi fists a hand into the disordered blond tousle and jerks back, baring Nate’s pale throat, and after running his tongue up from clavicle to chin, sinks his teeth in. Nate stops breathing, his grip on Ravi’s cock convulsing.

“This okay?” Ravi murmurs against Nate’s fluttering pulse, against the reddened imprint of his teeth. “You like this?”

Nate’s voice shakes. “Babe, your instincts are top fucking notch, I like it a lot.”

Babe hits Ravi hard, breath faltering as his stomach flips over, warmth rolling rich and sweet as golden honey. A mess of words gets tangled up in his throat, a Gordian knot he slices through with a small cough. A little hoarse the first syllable or two, Ravi pulls himself together enough to say, “Yeah? You’d tell me if it’s too much?”

Head lolling loose against the backrest, Nate aims up a dazed smile. “Yuh-huh.” He matches a sure stroke of his hand with a thrust of his hips, and his lashes fall before he forces his eyes open. “Right. Words. I can do sentences.” Even as Ravi watches, his pupils swallow all but a thin blue ring of iris. “M’not a small guy, so the way you can just manhandle me any way you like is kind-of-very-extremely-the-hottest-thing. That’s new for me. Getting me off like crazy, babe.”

Heat prickles up Ravi’s spine, a fresh match of desire striking each nerve afire. Dragging his tongue across the rasp of stubbled jaw before biting again, he nearly gets a mouthful of shirt collar in his haste and has to suppress the sudden savage desire to tear every stitch of Nate’s clothing right off him. Ravi leans back a few inches, trying to think clearly, but that’s impossible with Nate’s long, clever hands driving every ounce of reason right out of his skull.

“Is this—ah, haan, that’s— Nate. Whatever you want.” It’s an offer, a declaration. A plea.

“I just want you,” Nate gasps, sincerity punctuated by the reflexive twist of his thumb.

One of Ravi’s oldest weaknesses. Being wanted, needing to please. But Nate isn’t asking for anything Ravi isn’t already willing to give; demanding nothing other than to enjoy himself, to take what’s freely offered. Ravi swallows against an unexpected swell of emotion, galloping heart loud in his ears.

He crushes their mouths into desperate, devouring kisses, into open-mouthed gasps and muffled groans, hands interlocking to press their glistening cocks into exquisite alignment. Hips rocking, they match each other stroke for stroke, and Ravi’s skin feels too tight, like he might split at the seams, all of him pouring out in a heedless, liquid rush.

The reins of his control slip, and he goes harder, faster, more aggressive. He catches an earlobe between his teeth and bites down, growling a wordless demand. Nate yelps in surprise, squirming deliciously under the press of Ravi’s weight.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how good it was to fuck you,” Ravi grates, the truth spilling out of him like it can’t stand being trapped behind his tongue any longer.

“Ravi, Jesus Christ—” Nate shudders underneath him, slicking their hands with pulse after scorching pulse. Nate goes lax for only a moment, skin pebbling on his well-nibbled neck. After sucking in a juddering breath, Nate surges up and claims Ravi’s mouth, snarling his free hand up into Ravi’s hair. He keeps an effusive stream of praise pressed against Ravi’s lips.

“That’s it, babe, so fucking good, you’re perfect…”

The wave of Ravi’s pleasure crests and crashes over him in a blinding, blissful rush, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Every muscle in his body tightens, quivering through every pulse, before they all loosen in tandem, and he collapses into Nate’s arms in a languid drape.

Murmuring gently, Nate guides him into a slow, sweet kiss. “We…did not think this through,” he eventually says with a breathless chuckle, cupping Ravi’s cheek.

Ravi hums an inquiry, not enough brain cells regained yet for speech. The car is very hot, humid, and he’ll have to drive with the windows down to banish the thick aroma of sex.

“We made a mess. You know, last time I had sex in a car, I think I barely had my driver’s license. Christ, you make me feel like a teenager.” Nate looks Ravi over and winces. “Shit, your suit. Sorry.”

“I’ll buy a new one,” Ravi mumbles, not moving an inch. He always has a few changes of clothes in duffels stashed in the trunk. Hunts often get messy.

“Course you will,” Nate chuckles, then buries his nose in Ravi’s hairline. “How do you always smell so good?”

Instead of answering, Ravi pulls his hand up to his mouth and runs his tongue cat-like over the back of his striped knuckles.

Heat sparks anew in Nate’s eyes. “You wanna go back to my place? Spend the night? Please tell me you’re driving us to my place.”

“Like I said”—Ravi grins, wide and unchecked—“my schedule is clear.”