Chapter 31 Kit
THIRTY-ONE
Kit
Saying goodbye to Shaun, Rake, and DJ took more effort than it did the last time. For one, Kit wasn’t departing with the ghost of their dead creator as an unwanted hanger-on, and for another, he was sad to see them go.
“I would like a hug,” DJ said, opening his arms.
Perhaps Kit didn’t care that they were leaving, after all.
“Bring it in,” Quin said, going in for it.
DJ slapped Quin on the back when they broke apart. “Consider the job offer,” DJ said. “You won’t need to work with Kit’s money, but it’ll give you something to do if you want it. Plus, you being able to meet with people during the day will help us a lot.”
Quin nodded. “I’ll let you know.”
“Shall we also book in another borgy at some point?” DJ asked.
Quin’s gaze flitted over to Kit. “Maybe.”
“We’re engaged,” Kit reminded him.
“So that means no borgy?” DJ asked, a frown marring his face. “Whatever. Hug?”
“Fine!” Kit said. “But don’t expect me to do any of the work.”
DJ smirked and threw his arms around him whilst Kit stood ramrod still. “Bye, Kitty boy,” DJ said, skipping backwards before Kit could swipe at him with his claws.
Shaun raised a brow at Kit. “You better hug me back.”
Kit conceded on that point. “If I must.” He didn’t mind, and it was quite a nice hug. Not like being enveloped by Quin, but pleasant and fleeting.
Rake waved but made no move to touch either of them. Kit presumed he’d had enough of having to touch people who weren’t his boyfriends over the past few days, so he didn’t take it personally.
“You sure you wouldn’t rather we get rid of the necklace?” Shaun asked.
Kit shook his head. “We’ve got it.”
“If Lawrence returns again, I’m bowing out,” DJ said. “There’s only so much resurrecting a guy can take.”
“We’ll make certain this is the final time,” Quin said.
When Rake opened the front door, Mabel, who’d been conked out in her doggy bed after a few days of extra special attention from all of them, skittered through for her own goodbyes.
She got showered with pats and kisses before Rake ordered Shaun and DJ to the car.
DJ walked out, holding Mabel under one arm and his luggage in the other, but Quin gently took Mabel from him and carried her back into the house.
“We’ll visit again,” Shaun said.
“You just want to spend more time with the dog,” Kit replied.
Shaun grinned. “I don’t mind Mabel, either.”
“Hey!” Quin said.
Shaun raised both his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“We were so close to leaving,” Rake lamented.
“We’ll come visit you the next time,” Kit said.
“I’m holding you to that,” Shaun said.
“Ooh, we can show you our local kink club!” DJ said.
“You know, I’m looking forward to having a conversation that doesn’t revolve around sex,” Kit said.
DJ blinked. “I feel like that was aimed at me.”
“Who else would it be aimed at?” Shaun said, elbowing him.
“Rake, obviously. He’s a sex pest,” DJ said.
Rake sighed wearily. “Car. Now.” This time, he corralled them into the vehicle with no kidnapped pets.
Kit and Quin stayed on the doorstep to wave them off. With Mabel sitting between them, it was all very domestic. Kit shuddered.
“What was that for?” Quin asked. “You all right?”
“I just realised we’re super basic.”
Quin laughed and pulled Kit back inside. “I don’t mind being basic. In fact, I think I like the idea of a drama-free life from now on.”
“Only one creator trapped in a necklace to go,” Kit said.
A few nights after they bid farewell to the trio, Kit and Quin headed out onto the waves.
Quin organised one of the locals to take them out just after dark, which had involved a fair amount of money to grease the way.
Kit considered there to be no better use of his unwanted inheritance from Lawrence.
Appropriate that he was paying for the trip to his own watery grave.
The boat had seen fairer days, but Kit liked its weathered scarlet hull and matching name, Red Sky at Night.
He’d never been on such a small vessel before, the boat only having a little covered part for the helm, with the rest remaining open to the elements.
A bench with peeling white paint was built into the deck, and Kit was glad of Quin’s foresight to bring along some pillows and a blanket, because the wood looked like it’d be murder on his arse.
Their captain for the evening—a robust woman with short grey hair—walked them briskly through the safety procedures before letting them aboard. She delivered most of her spiel to Mabel, who was on her best behaviour, sitting at Kit’s feet and listening intently.
They’d borrowed a dog life vest from Louie for Mabel, complete with fake shark fin. Kit met the dog sitter the night before after he’d invited them over for a cuppa. Kit, of course, had refused the tea, but he’d enjoyed the conversation.
Louie was fun, if a little preoccupied with being a good host. It was a novel experience to socialise with someone who knew nothing of the paranormal world.
Kit had to turn down the provision of biscuits no fewer than three times before Louie gave up offering them, but Quin more than made up for it with the amount he consumed.
With their own life vests on, they stepped aboard the vessel.
To their knowledge, Mabel had never been on a boat before.
But, after spending a few minutes looking unsure as they took off, she began yapping at the salt spray in the air.
Kit spent most of the journey fussing over her, making sure she wouldn’t jump off the boat in her exuberance.
The necklace was burning a hole in his pocket, but he wanted to wait until they were at such a distance that there’d be no chance of Lawrence finding his way back.
Kit and Quin stayed mostly quiet as they zipped over the waves.
They travelled so far out that Kit could only make out the murk of the surrounding sea, its blackness looking ripe to swallow everything up.
A suitable burial ground.
“Here?” Quin asked, putting a hand on Kit’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze.
“Here works.” Kit stood up, unfurling the blanket he’d had wrapped around him. With shaky legs, he moved over to the side of the boat.
Part of him wondered if Lawrence would be cognisant of his fate; if he’d spend eternity on the seabed, only his thoughts for company.
It was what Lawrence deserved. His death at the hands of Rake and Shaun hadn’t been enough.
Lawrence had snuffed out too many lives, the ripple effects from those taken immeasurable.
The pendant itself—stolen as it was along with Jack, Thomas, and Matthew—exemplified the trail of destruction he’d left.
That it should be used against Lawrence as a final act was fitting.
With Quin at his back to steady him, Kit reached into his pocket and drew out the necklace.
He’d contemplated doing some sort of speech, but when the time came, he simply held his hand over the edge of the boat and let go.
There was no whisper on the wind, no last words.
Just the certainty of his creator being banished to the waves, never to return.
Quin’s arms circled his waist from behind, and Kit fell backwards into the embrace. He lost track of where the necklace had dropped, the darkness making it impossible to tell.
“All done?” Quin asked.
Kit’s throat felt tight. He nodded, unable to articulate himself.
Quin nuzzled the top of his head. He didn’t say anything either, and Kit didn’t want him to. They stood there for a while, the rush of the waves and hum of the engine fading into the background.
He spared a final thought for the brothers in the manor house. He hoped they were able to rest, knowing that Lawrence could do no more harm. But he didn’t let his mind dwell on them. He couldn’t.
Because peace wasn’t only for the ghosts.
Kit would let himself have this. He would let himself believe that he was safe, and that he wouldn’t ever have to be alone again. He clutched at Quin’s arms, pulling them tighter around him, needing every comfort Quin offered.
“You did so well,” Quin murmured into his hair.
“I chucked a necklace into the sea,” Kit said hotly.
“And you did an excellent job of it. Threw it very far.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m trying to make you laugh.”
Kit turned and pressed his forehead into Quin’s chest to hide his smile.
Only Quin could make him feel joyous at a time like this, when he felt moments away from shattering.
But Quin kept him whole—Quin wouldn’t allow him to break.
Not when he’d spent so long piecing him together in the first place.
Without further discussion, Quin marched Kit over to the bench, drawing him down to sit on top of him.
“What about the captain?” Kit hissed, mortified at the open display of affection.
“She’s distracted enough by Mabel that she won’t notice anything we do out here.”
Kit looked over and, true to Quin’s word, Mabel was in the little covered helm with the captain. “Aw, she’s making friends.”
“She’s the best girl.”
“She is.”
Quin played with Kit’s bare ring finger. “The jewellers said it would be ready tomorrow for me to pick up.”
“About time.”
“They took three days.”
“As I said—about time!”
“So, what are your thoughts about having a big wedding? My mum would kill me if I got married without one. Not to mention that I’ll need to torture Sage with some best man duties.”
Nausea hit Kit, and it wasn’t from the bobbing waves. “Oh god, I need to meet your family.”
Quin smiled up at him. “They’re going to love you as much as I do.”
“I make terrible first impressions.”
“Just be yourself.”
“Myself? That’s awful advice! And what if they think it’s too fast?”
“My mum proposed to my dad on their second date.”
Kit’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Werewolf thing. She liked the smell of him, and didn’t want anyone else muscling in.”
“Like mother, like son.”
“Hey, I liked more than simply your scent.”
“Yeah?”
“My beast wanted to eat you up.”