Chapter Eleven #3
Which meant breakfast with a maybe cursed changeling barghest named Aultyr and Declan’s terrifying mother and equally terrifying sister. He gritted his teeth against the race of his pulse, focusing on the weight of Declan’s hand. It would all be alright. It had to be.
“Unless that means ‘bad at whatever creepy magic barghests do,’ not really.” Now wasn’t the time to get into how powerless he was here and always would be.
“Unfortunately, changelings are the opposite of ‘bad at magic,’ creepy or otherwise.”
Of fucking course. Nevermind. He leaned to kiss Declan’s hair, breathing in the reassurance of smoke and ink.
“I’m fine. Your sister cooked. We should eat.”
“Aye. Eithne cooked, and we have a creepy magical barghest to eat with.” Declan tugged at Antonio's waist then let his hand drop, leading the way into the kitchen. “Likely a sulky cu-sith as well; they go everywhere together. I’ve only met them properly the once. Barghest are very … large.”
“Large. Got it.” He set his hand against Declan’s back, where it set the bond to purring. “Won’t arm wrestle the dude.”
“Probably for the best. Even if–”
Declan cut himself off as they entered the kitchen, whatever he was going to say lost, and it was easy to see why. Aisling was staring at him, hand over her mouth.
“Mother?”
“Your glamour,” she said, voice trembling. “I’ve missed seeing my lovely boy. That’s all. You’ve your father's eyes.”
Right. Okay. This was absolutely one of those family moments that Antonio shouldn’t be around for. Aisling’s eyes were wet, and Declan’s discomfort was a discordant ping in what had been the contented thrum of the bond.
But he was here, and he didn’t want her reaction to chase Declan back into hiding.
“Any chance of coffee?” he asked, like a fumbling, ignorant human.
Aisling shook her head and found a more steady smile. “Of course. Please feel free to sit, both of you. Coffee, hummingbird?”
“The answer is always yes, Mother.”
“It’s real coffee too. Not bean-flavored Faerie juice.” Eithne paused, head tilted. “There’s the ward trip; that’s my cue to get the door and bugger right off, lest Aultyr not be able to resist my toothy charms.”
Eithne left as Declan took his usual spot, and Antonio settled next to him, their knees bumping under the table.
“May I ask why we invited Aultyr and Harke to breakfast?”
“Just Aultyr,” Aisling replied, with a wave to the retreating Eithne. She set a pair of mugs on the table, followed by a pot of milk and another of sugar. “He’s news, darling. Please don’t be like your sister.”
“Prone to excessive baking?” Antonio suggested, still hoping to chase the remaining tension from Declan’s shoulders.
“Prone to flirting with large, brooding men.” And Declan smiled, which made everything worth it. “No arm wrestling and no propositioning. I suppose we can manage that.”
“Good,” said a new voice, and if Antonio hadn’t been busy mooning over Declan’s smile, he would have noticed the man in the doorway, holding Puck in his arms.
Filling the doorway. Declan hadn’t been kidding.
Six and a half feet if he was an inch– so not Brownie tall but still big–and broad, he was a shade darker than Antonio, with middle-eastern features, shoulder-length black hair and a short-clipped beard to match.
Also, his shadow was shaped like a big fuck-off dog, and his canines looked made for tearing throats.
“Good morning, Aultyr,” Aisling said as she took her cat back from the man. “You remember Declan. May I introduce Antonio? They’re bonded.”
The guy returned Aisling’s greeting with a nod and acknowledged Declan with a lift of his chin, before turning those eyes on Antonio. Christ, the guy had a stare on him.
“Would give a new human a heads up, usually. Faerie’s fucking weird. Figure you already know.”
Blunt bastard, wasn’t he? Somehow, that helped, enough that Antonio peeled his fingers from his nettle-inked wrist.
“Weird’s one way of putting it. Hard to relax when the walls have opinions.”
“New spin on them having eyes.” Aultyr’s cheek twitched, which he maybe thought counted as a smile. “Well met.”
And Declan’d said that fae were weird about changelings, so Antonio managed a smile of his own as he said, “Yeah. Well met.”
He pressed his knee a bit harder against Declan’s as the barghest sat down, Puck squirming into the big man’s lap the second his ass hit the chair. Aisling settled beside him, reaching for a bagel, calm as anything.
“I asked Aultyr and Harke to let me know if they heard anything about the nereid business.”
The nereid business. As in, the creepy water fae who’d tried to tear Declan apart while Antonio was busy wandering off into the mist. They’d ended up as rotting piles of torn flesh, strewn across the beach. It wasn’t Antonio’s favorite memory.
“Full truth?” Aultyr asked, looking at Antonio like he was the one who should be answering. “Or you want evasive, polite fae talk?”
“My ‘best friend’ from when I was a kid tried to kidnap me while a bunch of fish ladies went after Declan.” Antonio covered Declan’s hand with his own, just that little reassurance that they were both here and not kidnapped or drowned. “Not much dancing around that.”
“Fish ladies with a price,” Aultyr said, as he meticulously peeled and segmented his orange. “Expensive ones. Got better chances slogging through a summer sewer after a knife fight than fighting a sluagh. Not an easy sell.”
“Calloway hired assassins,” Declan said, the words flat. “And attempted to kidnap Antonio during the job?”
“Not hired. A hit.” Aultyr might as well have been talking about the fucking silverware, for how concerned he sounded.
“Got tapped to take it specific, said no. After that, blanket call went out. Calloway’s not high pillow material.
A pushover. You think his mother’s the sort to bankroll that, make sure her kid and a human bond and middle-aisle it? ”
Declan’s emotions rang through Antonio, shock and anger and affront, but Antonio could barely feel them, too caught by his own tangled thoughts, looping back to that bland statement, a blanket call went out.
He’d tried to believe it was a one-off thing.
That Calloway’d fled and that’d be the end of it.
Or at least he’d be back to tugging at Nimai and Wyte, trying to twist Antonio out of Declan’s grip through Faerie’s weird, complex web of Protocol.
Assassins hadn’t crossed his mind. That was a word for action films. Fucked as Antonio’s life was, it wasn’t fucked like that.
He stroked the hand that gripped his, while his free fingers tapped against his plate. Across the table, the barghest was still calmly eating his fucking orange. Antonio wanted to scream. It wasn’t a new feeling.
“Would she?” Declan’s voice broke through the clamor of Antonio’s anxiety, reminding him that he had someone in his corner.
He breathed again.
“Calloway’s mom thinks if I’m allowed off my leash, I’ll chew on her furniture.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. He didn’t try. “Don’t think she’d want me dirtying up her kid’s soul. But you guys, it’s all favors, right? Calloway could’ve offered a favor.”
“Not all favors are equal.” Declan had scooted closer, pressed against Antonio from thigh to ankle. It helped.
“Unseelie get a bad rap.” Aultyr had moved onto a bagel with the same calm. “Still, your guy,” and he nodded to Declan, “has pull. Connections to Gates. Information. Favor’s worth something, then. The kid? He’s got nothing to offer.”
Aisling was no longer beaming around the table. Her expression was troubled. Troubled on a banshee was appropriately terrifying. “What, exactly, is the cost of my son’s life?”
“Allotment. Irrevocable unless the House falls. No one’s said which House. Harke’s trying to find out.”
This was all above Antonio’s pay grade, or it would be except Declan was his…
They hadn’t actually put a word to it. Boyfriend?
Partner? Guy he’d slept with once and hoped to sleep with again?
His bond, anyway. He’d given his soul to him.
Held Declans in turn, petals inscribed with ink and lit with flame.
So, maybe, exactly his pay grade. “What the fuck is an allotment?”
“Property. Land, like this place. Unless the kid or his mother came into some power no one knows of, they don’t have the pull to offer one.”
“Aultyr,” Aisling’s voice was softer than Antonio had ever heard it. Shocked and a little shaky. “You turned down an allotment. An irrevocable allotment.”
Which must be a bigger deal to a fae than Antonio could follow, because the barghest wasn’t looking at her, and Declan was staring at the guy like he’d grown a second head.
“Voids and starshine, why?” Declan asked, his wings tucked close and his grip tight.
“You were my first job. Lost thing for information. Never expect me to sing for free. Haven’t tried to spin lies from truth to me.
Not about to take against your family without you turning cloak first.” The barghest’s eyes flicked to Aisling, then Antonio, and who could say what he saw but it felt like everything.
“You follow. Yeah? Difference between surviving and a snake. Nothing owed from the past except there being a past, separate from the favors shit.”
“Yeah, I follow,” Antonio answered. “Doesn’t get you far to get a reputation as a snake, either. Then the only people who’ll deal with you are other snakes. And they eat their own.”
“No one would be shocked, me turning cloak. Changelings lie, see?” Aultyr said with a shift of his shoulders that might have been a shrug. “Pesky human upbringing and all. Not worth it, just to get eaten by other snakes. Not when Eithne’s making bagels.”
Probably, Antonio should try one of the damned bagels.
He doubted he’d taste it though, his mouth dry and the thought of more killers coming after Declan, coming for him, making him want to heave.
Declan’s hand, steady on his, was the only thing in the room that felt real. And Aultyr was still talking.
“You want to live, best bet is to go back to the human world. Hole up somewhere safe. Let Harke’n me figure out who’s pulling the strings.”
“What good would going back do?” Antonio could at least try to think “That’s where they came after us last time.”
“Logistics. Wisps can find where other wisps have been,” Aultyr answered, working on stripping another orange.
“The kid probably found Florian's trail and set a trap.
Easy. Faerie makes it easier. Unless you're a certain sort or have a specific warding or magic, just a thought and you're there. Use a Gate. Only way to track a Gate is get their permission or ask a barghest.”
The barghest sitting at the table didn’t smirk, but Antonio had the feeling that the expression was there, somewhere, hidden behind his eyes.
“I had arranged for you to meet with a contact of mine today. One who might have some information regarding unusual bids for the Council. The seelie love a precedent.” Aisling pursed her lips. “Though I suppose Zyr won’t be upset over a lack of visitors.”
“We know that the Council isn’t in on the whole kill Declan and give me to Calloway plan?” Antonio heard himself ask. Like this was a perfectly normal conversation. “Bo says they play dirty.”
Bo had said a lot more than that.
“Could be,” Aultyr answered, flat as ever. “More reason to get out of Faerie if they are.”
“I doubt anyone would attack us on Zyr’s lands.” Declan fixed his gaze, eyes pale blue and worried, on Antonio. “I would prefer to discuss this, just you and I, after breakfast. Decide our next steps then, together?”
“Yeah, alright. We can talk about it,” Antonio answered. Because it meant something, Declan asking.
“Well, that’s settled for the moment, then,” Aisling said.
Settled, she said, just like that, and Aultyr was eating a damn bagel. Christ, even Declan seemed more concerned than scared. Fuck all of this. Fucking fae.
“Why am I the only one freaking out about this?”
“Should there be an attack, they won’t be focused on you,” Declan said. “There is the threat of Calloway, but I worried last time you were to be harmed.”
“There are assassins hunting you,” Antonio shot back. And the anger was just a cover for the fear. It didn’t help. So he put it away and added, softer, “You could be hurt.”
“I've a feeling the information may have not sunk in, yet. It's… quite a lot, on many fronts.”
Talk about a fae sentence. And Antonio just let it hang there, in the now silent kitchen.
Declan deserved better. Been treated like shit for so long he didn’t realize what he was worth. And Antonio could, what? Not treat him like a disease? Screw him on a desk chair? Getting laid wasn’t going to do Declan much good against someone like Aultyr.
Thoughts for later. Or never.
“And I,” Aisling chimed in, her voice soft as ice crept up the side of her teacup, “am very angry. They want to kidnap you and kill my boy. That won't do at all.”
“Didn’t even send a card first.” Bitterness turned Antonio's voice dry and as cracked as leather left in the sun. “Rude bastards. Next thing you know they’ll be using the wrong fork.”
Declan snorted, made everything that little bit better by pressing his mouth to Antonio’s shoulder, where he could feel him smiling. “Drink from the finger bowl, perhaps.”
And now Antonio was snickering, just a little, dark humor easing the moment into something he could breathe through. He couldn’t do any of this without Declan. He wouldn’t want to.
Somehow, they’d live through this. Both of them. Hopefully.