Chapter 11
Peter loved to see his time free up unexpectedly.
He’d been supposed to accompany a third-year to a custody hearing—not his specialty by any means, but the things he did to support the third-years—but the date had been changed.
He looked at the free space on his schedule, and his hesitation came merely from knowing Theodore would be busy.
But I should check on him. If I can only see him through a window or while he changes rooms, that’s fine. A quick kiss maybe, in the university hallway. I’ll tell him I stopped by on my way to see a client to remind him to keep his distance from all the sick people.
Peter quickly gathered his phone and jacket, and on his way out, he poked his head into Michael’s office. The siren was on his phone and pacing while he talked, casting glances out his windows.
“—we can do that, of course. I’ll—hold on a moment.” He covered the receiver with his hand, more a gesture than a necessity. Peter had a good sense that Michael could easily throw his voice. “Peter?”
“Heading out for a little while. Pretend to be me if anyone comes looking.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “I can’t just pretend to be you.”
“Then pretend I told you to take care of things. If anyone wants me. Which they shouldn’t.” Peter raised his chin. “I’m taking a lunch break.”
Another eye roll, but there was also a fond smile playing around Michael’s lips. The siren understood love. “Sure, whatever you say, Peter. Look, I have to get back to this. Do you mind?”
Peter waved in lieu of saying goodbye and closed the door behind him, then made his way to his car as quickly as possible.
Traffic wasn’t too bad, and one of the bike-riding linguistics people had vacated their parking spot.
Peter claimed it with something close to glee, checking his hair in the rearview before getting out, and with a spring in his step, he made his way to the cafeteria.
It was a guess and would depend on timing, but with any luck, he’d have a few minutes with Theodore before his next class started.
If nothing else, Peter would be able to kiss him, and then he’d hire a female chef for dinner.
Hopefully, so soothed, Theodore would be amenable to letting himself be worked—gently—toward abandoning his pursuit of the job behind the bar at Celeste’s.
The day was pretty, sunshine glossing the grass and reflecting off the windows of the library ahead.
Peter turned left to get to the cafeteria like many of the students.
His attention was snagged by a group of people standing in a close circle, apparently to watch a video or photos on someone’s phone while whispering.
“Is that guy real?” Peter heard someone ask.
He dismissed it immediately. Many of the young people here were not just potential sources of sickness for Theodore but also terribly juvenile.
None had had to deal with the things Theodore had—Peter corrected that thought.
Not many of them would have had to deal with anything like that.
To Peter, his beloved stood out among the lot of them like a bright star on the night of a new moon.
He looked around the cafeteria. It was too crowded to go by scent, never mind the smells of food, but Peter would have been able to spot Theodore anywhere.
His beloved wasn’t among these smiley, chatty youths though.
Over in the corner where the trays were returned, a student in a T-shirt coughed in the way that indicated congestion deep in the chest, and Peter frowned at the man.
Maybe I’ll see if I can get Theodore to go home with me. Irresponsible people here, all around. It’s unlikely that he’ll want to miss his lectures, but I can float the suggestion.
On his way up to the next floor, Peter considered whether he should start some kind of petition to the university about preventing sick people from coming to class.
Common sense should have dictated it, but Peter found measures were often needed to reinforce common sense.
The tedium of that was a haunting specter of his existence and had been since the first time he’d been part of a dispute about where whose cattle could graze.
Back then, the usual punishments should have been enough to get the point across, seeing as how they could be unpleasant.
Not the blood eagle maybe, but whippings.
And yet, common sense had failed then. These days, at least I get paid for the disputes over all the nonsense.
Peter walked away from the sick human and wrinkled his nose, enjoying the knowledge that Theodore was not like any of those people.
On the second floor, he didn’t see Theodore either, but he saw something else. Someone else. Peter froze.
The Fae looked up. He was standing next to a table, dressed in an outfit just as revealing as your average Fae would choose while out to snatch a human to his realm.
In fact, the Fae displayed textbook behavior for one of his kind, that smuggish look of acute jerkification of the character plainly evident on his face.
He also didn’t give a fuck that he and his almost bare chest were causing a scene in front of the supposedly studious young humans.
If Peter was forced to deal with this hunk, it would be bad.
There’d be witnesses. There already were.
The students sitting at their own tables were covertly and not so covertly taking pictures and videos.
Peter saw at least two who looked as if they were about to get up, walk up to the hunk, and offer themselves.
He wouldn’t even have to hunt any humans at this rate. But, oddly enough, the Fae didn’t really seem to care. Even the way he failed to notice that he’d become the center of attention for most everyone in the room was oddly unselfconscious—not a word Peter had ever before used to describe a Fae.
There was no helping it though Peter knew fighting the Fae would be bad, he also knew he might have to. Fae only came in two flavors, after all: bad and worse. Also glitter, of course, but that was sort of a given.
Peter let his eyes wander around the room. Too many people. In a fight, many might get hurt. The windows though; all he had to do was throw the Fae through a window. Peter wished he had a weapon on him, but there was no time. Their eyes had met.
With few other options, Peter forced the tension out of his shoulders and approached the Fae, who straightened and glanced across the room in what was possibly supposed to be an inconspicuous way. It wasn’t. Peter didn’t follow his gaze, and eventually, the Fae focused back on him.
“Bloodsucker. It’s your thrall the human is under, isn’t it? I will set him free.”
“What human?” Peter asked, making his voice sound casual. The hair at the back of his neck stood up.
“The young witch. He went to convene with nature. If you attempt to follow him, I will stop you.” He raised a hand and puffed out his chest. “I’d rather not have bloodshed nor endanger these innocent youths—” He gestured grandly at the students, most of whom were filming openly now that there was talking.
Peter supposed it could be mistaken for a performance.
“—but if you will not yield, I will deal you retribution.”
Peter relaxed his stance, ready to move fast. Something prickled at the back of his mind.
“With what weapon will you fight me?”
The Fae looked confused. “I…shall best you in unarmed combat.”
Convene with nature? Peter knew Fae had different customs, different expressions and culture. He glanced at the empty table the Fae was standing at. It was quiet, with a nice view. Theo would like sitting here. And to a Fae, he’d smell of Peter; an oddly satisfying thought.
Peter wasn’t sure how wise it was, but he asked, “Did the human you think I thralled go that way to follow the call of nature?”
Peter pointed toward the restrooms.
The Fae’s nostrils flared. “No, he did not. It is pointless. I am his champion now.”
Peter turned to the nearest student, a girl with short black hair. “How long has the hunk been here?”
She lowered her phone before she remembered she was filming. “Uh, like…like a long time. I came in ten minutes ago, and he was already here.”
“At least half an hour,” a student in gym clothes with untouched food in front of him said.
Peter nodded, and relief ran through him. If the Fae had been targeting Theodore, his instincts had kicked in. Beloved, you know the world, though I wish you didn’t. You know when to run.
Peter was proud of Theodore, but there was no time to waste.
“Bloodsucker,” the Fae said, and he looked…uncertain? Most Fae didn’t manage that. “What are you asking these innocents? Stay back!”
“Or come closer. I wouldn’t mind,” the guy in the gym clothes mumbled.
“Kindly hold that thought for a moment.” Peter fished his phone out of his pocket. He called Theodore. It rang for a while, but then his beloved picked up.
“Um, hi.”
“Where are you now?”
Peter heard his own tone of voice. He didn’t like talking to Theodore in that way, but it was necessary. There was a pause on the other end, and Peter was afraid he had miscalculated, had stirred something painful in Theodore’s memory of the not-so-recent events.
“At Celeste’s.”
Peter exhaled. “Good. Stay there.”
“Peter, what—”
Despite the tremor of rising panic in Theodore’s voice, Peter ended the call and leveled a cold smile at the Fae.
“He’s gone, and you won’t ever get him. Let’s talk outside.”
Peter had done this a thousand times, but not with a Fae, who were strong and notoriously dangerous fighters.
Weapon or no weapon, this could go very wrong very fast. He turned his back and walked toward the exit.
With any luck, he wouldn’t have to fight and murder the Fae in front of all these smartphones and the students attached to them.
But luck was fickle, and Peter was ready to do what needed doing.