Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“Look, Bo…” he started, only to trail off into silence.
Careful. Always. Only time it was safe was when it was just him and Declan, the world shut away.
Moments like that were happening less and less.
“I can’t– I just left my buddy’s grave. I watched him die.
I don’t got it in me right now, to tell you whatever it is you want to hear.
And considering how things go when your buttons get pushed… I’m sorry, but I’d rather not risk it.”
Confusion. Surprise. Realization. Or something like.
“Fuck,” Bo said, glancing back toward the graves. “Brookhaven. You’re right. Sorry. I know I– Temper tantrums aren’t on the menu, whatever we do or don’t say.”
Could Declan feel it, wherever he was? The way the anger flared like a lit match in Antonio's chest, burnt down the wood into nothing. And this was how he moved through Faerie, too. Letting it burn until it burnt out. Sometimes, it felt like a little of himself went with it every time.
“Thanks. But this isn’t about you getting your back up.
It’s about what happens when you do.” He tilted his head so he was looking at the sky instead of Bo.
“Everil took my name from me. Cursed me to die in water. Christ. I couldn’t give Dulce baths.
Couldn’t take the girls to swim class. Because what if just being close to me meant it got them?
” The anger was gone and all he felt was tired.
“I like you, Bo, but I can’t be real with you. ”
Bo said nothing, which was weird enough to drag Antonio’s attention back down. But he couldn’t read Bo like he could Declan. Didn’t know what his soul felt like in anger or in grief. Something spicy, maybe.
“I’m sorry,” Bo said at last. Quiet. “It was fucked. Shouldn’t have happened. Won’t again.”
“Don’t worry about it.” If for no other reason than he just didn’t have the energy to hash it all out now. Past was past.
“I… This a situation where it’s a genuine apology, no explanation, and try to show moving forward I mean it thing, or one where you’d be open to hearing out what happened? Not, like, an excuse. There’s not one.”
You had to forgive people. You had to forgive people because how could you function in a world where you turned against anyone who hurt you? Antonio would have no one left if he hadn’t figured out forgiveness. He’d even forgive Calloway, eventually.
That one would take time. But Bo hadn’t hurt someone Antonio loved.
“Easy, man. Fae are fae. Fuck, people are people. Ones with the power make the ones without toe their line. Explain if you want, but I’m used to it.” He shrugged, shoulders tight. “Didn’t bring it up to rake you over the coals. Just trying to explain why I try to stay on your good side.”
“Didn’t sound like you were. Coal raking.
It’s not– If it happened today, I’d be able to say, ‘back off, kelpie, we’re good’ or something like that.
” Bo shifted, as restless as Antonio felt.
“But back then? Ever didn’t want me. Kept trying to talk me into letting him break our bond.
You know how the first days are, yeah? Crawl under each other’s fucking skin.
Dude saw my soul and stayed as far the fuck away as he could.
“So, I wasn’t– Didn’t have a reason to believe he’d give a fuck if I told him to back off.
Not when he was talking Protocol and fae shit.
And yeah, I was pissed. At everyone.” Bo looked down, nudging at the packed dirt with the toe of his sneaker.
“I didn’t realize curses existed until he did it.
I should’ve said something. But I didn’t.
And afterward…” His mouth kicked up in a humorless smile.
“Kesk’s fucking white room. A lot of shit before that just kind of blurred over for a long fucking time.
So, like, fuck the power thing. Doesn’t matter how true it is, I shouldn’t have let it be then.
Shouldn’t have let something happen to you that has you trying for my good side. ”
Antonio let the man talk. Ramble. Couldn’t imagine what it’d have been like if Declan’d pushed him away that first night, instead of falling into his arms. Even still, he’d like to think he would’ve brought the sluagh up short if he’d gone after some dumb human just trying to help.
He wasn’t Bo. And Declan wasn’t Everil.
Antonio let his gaze drop, tracing the path through the cemetery, back toward Reece’s grave. They’d never talked like this. Like Bo was talking now.
“S’alright,” he said to the graves. “Seriously, we’re good. I’ll try not to be so nervy about it. But I get nervy about shit. Think, if instead of giving you a ‘shovel talk’ when you met him, Declan strapped a bomb to your chest and left it there. Might make you a little gun shy around him. Me.”
“Dude, I used to hike all the time. Now I can’t unless someone’s with me.
Keep expecting one of the trees to go for my throat.
You’re fucking valid.” Bo turned to look at him, then.
“... I’m no good with this trying to be a friend or having a heart-to-heart thing.
Do we hug it out? Grunt and hit each other’s shoulders?
Get drinks and talk about what a bitch Velriks is? ”
“Matching tattoos,” Antonio answered. “Maybe ‘fuck’ in some fancy script. Get it on your ass and start a TruFans account. Make people pay to see the good shit.”
“If we want to really scandalize the internet, it’d have to be on my foot. Never put your feet online for free.”
“Noted.” He looked down at his wrist, nettles spreading above the bracelets Declan had made for him. “Next time I get ink, it’ll be for Declan. Be something, since I never actually see the bastard.”
He could feel it, the weight of Bo’s surprised, worried glance.
“You’re that busy?”
“Declan’s got to be at a new Council party every damn day. And I’ve got the garage. That’s every damn day, too. Getting back and forth isn’t exactly easy. We didn’t adopt a Gate, and it’s not like Florian doesn’t have his own shit.”
“Fuck,” Bo said, because he was Bo. “I get antsy if Everil’s gone more than a day.”
“Yeah. Feels like needing a fix.”
Antonio knew it too well, the way the bond got hungry until it hurt. Missing Declan was worse, though. That, and the low-level buzz of misery that had replaced the bond’s contented thrum.
“You really can’t just tell them to fuck off? Forget all this Council shit? Or, hell, at least the parties.”
“Council’s the whole point. It’s in our oaths.” He closed his eyes, hearing Zyr’s flat words again. Pretty babies. “They’re killing off the unseelie. Doing it slow and subtle, but it’s happening.”
“Seriously?”
“Should be fifty/fifty, but Aisling says it’s more like eighty/twenty and worse with every generation.”
“Shit. You’re not kidding. Fuck.”
“Plenty of seelie born. Unseelie, not so much.”
“But, like, what can you do?” Bo chewed his lip, looking caught between horror and concern. “It’s not like you two on the Council’s going to stop fae from fucking who they want to fuck. Or not fucking who they don’t.”
“Nah, probably not. Some things, you do because otherwise, you can’t face your own reflection. Might not help, but you gotta try. Think you understand that.”
“I run fundraisers, I don’t throw myself into the line of fire.
Not for people I don’t know.” Bo made a face, squinting out over the graves.
“My best suggestion of how not to hate your semi-immortal life is to figure out the most important, nitty-gritty thing you can plausibly help with and focus on that. Not just ‘make it better.’ ”
“Don’t think we can have a bake sale for ‘stop the Monarchs from trying to kill off half their people.’ But you think that’d work, I’ll make the cookies.
” Antonio smiled, sort of, stretching his lips into an upturned grimace.
“We’re not even to ‘make it better’. We’re at ‘stand in the way of the ones who want to make it worse.’ Us backing down means one less vote against their bullshit.
One less argument to sway the few who’ll listen.
It means the Council’s back to a seelie club and babies being smothered in their cribs. ”
“That’s fucked, dude. At least you’re happy together? But the rest of it, that’s fucked.”
“We’re together,” Antonio answered, because happiness needed shit they couldn’t manage right now. Time alone, somewhere other than Faerie. Hope. “Got that much.”
You were supposed to feel better for saying things out loud. That’s what the therapists always said. Antonio didn’t feel better. He guessed he didn’t feel worse, either.
“No wolves.” Talia’s bright voice broke into his thoughts, as she ambled up the path toward them, hands shoved in the pocket of her hoodie. “Dad, can we do a series on werewolves? I’ll bet there’s all sorts of spooky forests we could check out.”
Bo brightened, grinning at Talia the way Antonio did his nieces. The way he’d never get to smile at a kid of his own. The idea of adoption had been hopeless enough before the possibility of outliving a kid by centuries was on the table.
“You do the research and get Ever to agree to play bodyguard, and you’ve a deal, kid.”
It didn’t matter. What mattered, now, was getting back to the garage and maybe getting a few minutes alone with Declan before Hyacinth’s little party. The chance to be near him. Hold on for a little while.