Chapter 5 #2
At some point during our co-habitation, and well after I’d recovered from my wounds, I’d thought maybe he was attracted to me. It was possible that attraction was mutual. But fearing I’d lose my best friend, I’d never broached the subject.
There was so much to learn in this time.
I wasn’t at all sure how to make my feelings known.
Or even exactly what I felt. My error in judgment at the nightclub had mucked everything about.
Mortified at my actions, guilty about betraying Hunter, I’d withdrawn, moved out, and avoided him.
The hurt I’d caused had been unintentional, but still, I’d hurt Hunter.
I clamped my jaw tight for a moment. “Let’s talk to Abraham about this whole thing. The hotel, I mean. And the necromancer.”
Hunter stared out his windshield. Finally he glanced over. “You hungry? I’m starved.”
He drove to our favorite drive-thru burger place. I was still astounded and enormously pleased with the idea of getting meals without ever leaving your vehicle.
“Do you believe Nigel?” I asked as we inched our way through the line of cars. My stomach rumbled. “About the old man being a—”
“Necromancer? I dunno. But it does explain some things.”
“Like?”
“Like the hotel being a big draw for supernatural folk. Or why the mob dudes were after the old guy. They weren’t there to kill him. They wanted him alive.”
“Those guns were real, Hunter. They shot at us.”
“At us, yes. But really, I don’t think they were actually trying to kill us. They wanted Master Anu for a reason, and it ain’t his charming personality.”
“Mob dudes? Where did you get that?”
Hunter counted off on his fingers. “Suits, guns, tats, and haircuts. Either they’re organized crime or extras from a Scorsese movie.”
I grinned. “Damn, but life does get interesting with you.” Hunter paid at the window, handing me the sacks of greasy heaven. We drove toward my apartment.
“How’s everyone settling in?” Hunter asked when the call to Abraham connected.
My former boss’s voice rumbled through the car speakers.
“The wolves are grumbling, but we’re unpacking cots and sleeping bags.
” The background noise told us he was at the warehouse space.
“They’re settling in. It’s not an entire pack, only about eight here.
Thanks again for letting they guys stay in your place.
They’re kind of unique and hard to place, you know? ”
Hunter’s eyebrows rose as he met my gaze. He mouthed the word later before telling Abraham what we’d discovered at the hotel.
“Necromancer? Seriously? You two can’t help it, can you? Trouble follows you wherever you go.”
“We were just— What trouble? It does not,” Hunter protested.
“You go back to an unsafe building and find ghosts and a necromancer. And organized crime? What the hell, guys?”
I grinned, remembering we’d gotten into a fair bit of trouble before when we worked together. All harmless fun, really.
“Have you experience with such beings? Necromancers, I mean?” I asked, sneaking a fry out of the bag.
“I’ve been around a while. Have only seen something like that once, a long time ago, and even now I’m not sure I could call him a necromancer. I’ll text Cobb. He can look into things. You got a description of the guys that shot at you?”
Damien Cobb was a detective with the Philly police. He was also well versed in the world of creatures and the arcane.
I answered, “White men, over six feet. The pudgy one had a blue-and-green snake tattoo on his neck. The other one was taller by a couple of inches and had a blighted eye. Left, I think.”
Hunter looked at me. “You remember all that? All I saw was the gun.”
I shrugged. “When you went out the window, I hid behind the door. I got a pretty good look at tattoo guy then. The other one when we clashed in the hall.”
“Wait. You fought them?” Hunter’s voice rose.
“I knew you would head for the balcony. In the hallway, the man with the bad eye caught up with me. He seemed unwilling to shoot. I guess he thought waving the gun around would work for him. It didn’t.
I disarmed him, pushed him into the opposite room, and blocked the door.
And oh, Abraham, the necromancer had a well-crafted Roman sword. Original era I think.”
Abraham whistled. “Really? I’d like to see that. Wait, Cobb’s texting me. He says he’ll check out the police blotter and get back to us. In the meantime, we will bring your necromancer and the clerk here, or not here, but somewhere safer.”
Hunter sipped his drink. “Master Anu won’t leave. Something about being close to his tablet. And Nigel can’t leave.”
“Why not?”
“Nigel is the night clerk.” I managed a fair imitation of the ghostly clerk. At Hunter’s chuckle, I beamed. “As well as the day clerk. He’s a ghost. And tethered somehow to the hotel and the necromancer.”
“God, I hate ghosts. They’re so wifty,” Abraham said.
“I think that’s because you can’t rip into them,” Hunter snarked. “You don’t trust anything you can’t kill with your bare hands.”
“I trust you.”
Hunter chuckled. “Anything else you can tell us?”
“Necromancers are like fae. All shapes and sizes. Originally, they were spiritualists, mediums, communing with the dead, often tapped to offer a loved one a final goodbye. I think your Master Anu is one of those.”
“He’s been a resident of the hotel at least for as long as Nigel, which is a hundred years.”
“So, no zombie apocalypse. There’s never been a problem at the hotel, right? I mean, not of the walking dead kind?” Hunter asked.
“Not that I know of,” Abraham replied. “The hotel’s had a few wolf skirmishes, a pile of gremlins that got out of control.
Oh, and Cobb met that fae there, with the henchman who could bend light.
But no zombies that we know of. Did they mention an object?
A disk or medal? That’s what I was sent to protect. ”
“No, wait. Nigel called it a tablet. Said the necromancer used it as a script. Could that be it? Whoever these guys were, they wanted the necromancer for something. Something that isn’t nice, because they weren’t nice. And they will try again,” Hunter said.
“I will get a couple of these guys over there to watch the place. But tonight’s a full moon, so they’ll need a relief team for a few hours.”
“Hunter and I can be there at ten tonight,” I offered, looking across the console at Hunter. He lifted a shoulder and stuffed another fry into his mouth.
?±?
Back at my apartment, I lounged in my reading chair, sketching a profile of one of our attackers.
Hunter mumbled from the window where he was petting Archie. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have given you shit about firefighter dude. Do what you want.”
I put my sketch pad aside and went to open a can of tuna for Archie. It gave me time to form a response.
“He seemed rather insistent that I get his phone number as I would not give him mine. It felt rude to decline.” We both watched Archie wolf down his high-end meal.
Part of me wanted to explain my reasoning to Hunter. But he was right, he had no call to judge me on who I talked to or why.
When Hunter said nothing, I excused myself to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Emerging from the room, I found him sprawled and snoring on the air mattress.
Dressing in sweats, I stretched out on the futon, picked up my dog-eared copy of Fahrenheit 451, and read.
It wasn’t long before my mind drifted from the page.
My sightline moving to the prone form on the air mattress.
To the sliver of golden skin as Hunter’s shirt rode up on his back.
The slight rise of his arse under the baggy jeans.
It was peaceful listening to his soft breathing.
It was easy. This moment was anyway. I felt safe and almost happy. Happier still if I moved off the futon to sleep next to Hunter. But I couldn’t do that. My eyes grew heavy, and I let them close. The book fell to the floor unnoticed.
Hunter’s voice floated in my head, his warm hand at my back. We were on the street outside Reckless Abandon—the first and only gay club I’d been to. I commented on the name, the rainbow-colored lights as they glittered over the people.
“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.” His eyes had sparkled in the light, and I found him enticing in his tight-fitting club clothes.
Not far from the futon, Hunter snorted in his sleep and rolled over, rousing me from my thoughts. The man snuffled like an old beloved dog. He was adorable but also kind and smart.
I rolled to face the wall as I listened to his even breathing.
In my former life, I would have used Hunter’s interest in me to my advantage, slight manipulations to get what I needed.
Back in London, it had been a matter of survival.
Seduction, manipulation, or even using one’s attractiveness to get ahead. But I was a changed man.
When I’d met Charlie Trumbull, I’d decided to stop nipping purses and try honest work. Life had been good. I had everything I needed. Bread on the table, a warm bed, and someone to share it with. A future.
Then Charlie died, and I found little reason to exist. Izzy had brought me here, to this time and this city, and Hunter had nursed me back to health. I figured it was incredibly rude to die after all that effort.
Physically, I was better now. Tip-top shape even. The ache of loss had eased, but inside, I was a jumble of bad feelings. Not simply the loss of Charlie, but everything. My past had been brutal, and I’d been brutal right along with it.
Things were different here, I knew that. But I went to work, smiled at the customers, and put on a good show when friends came around. Most of it was fake. I was too empty a shell for anyone. Especially not someone as nice as HB.