Chapter 5 Peter
Peter
Peter left for the office later than usual.
He’d not been able to settle on a tie, that was why, and he’d wondered whether he should maybe call Celeste and ask about Puck, make sure he’d gotten fluids and…
all the things people needed after blood donations.
Don’t they feed them? What if I send him food?
Peter, possibly wisely, had refrained from doing any of that. He’d reasoned that he’d not kept up with food culture, and the last thing he wanted was to come across as someone who’d send lard to a strawberry fest.
Despite being fully sated after his time with Puck, everyone in the office—when he finally arrived wearing a lavender tie—gave him a wide berth. When he headed past the open concept office where the first-years worked, they even fell silent.
Peter didn’t know why everyone was acting this way. He was much too preoccupied to glare at anyone crossing his path. He was mostly annoyed with his very unfortunate…well, Peter wasn’t sure he would go so far as to use the word infatuation. Surely that was not a thing that happened to him.
With a sigh, he let his office door fall shut behind him.
He slumped in his chair and turned on his laptop.
The thing took its sweet time booting up, giving Peter enough time to wonder whether he should’ve made sure to cover Puck’s dry cleaning.
He’d let the man sleep in his clothes, after all, and they had to be wrinkled all over.
I should’ve undressed him. That would’ve been the right thing to do. Except I can’t just undress people…or can I? Was last night…extenuating circumstances?
The machine was finally ready, and Peter signed in. He vaguely recalled that there were spreadsheets he should be looking at, so he attached them to an email, put Michael’s name in the recipient field, and sent them to the siren with a tediously polite request for a second opinion.
Then he leaned back in his chair, looked up at the ceiling, and groaned. What if I send him strawberries? Surely you cannot go wrong with strawberries?
Peter glanced at his screen. There were emails he’d ignored, and other work, but he was restless. He wanted to pace or do something. Peter closed his email program and frowned at the Photoshop icon. Someone scared Puck. Someone made sure he’s afraid of vampires. That is deserving of my…attention.
Peter knew there was nothing he could do about Puck’s past right then and there, but he was already fantasizing about some faceless Nosferatu creature, the murderous energy building.
I wonder whether Michael has another homicidal ex, and if so, whether that ex could be made to come to town so I can…greet him.
The door to Peter’s office opened, and as luck would have it, Michael walked in.
“What are you sending me those spreadsheets for? ‘My kind and considerate opinion’? Also, why is everyone taking pains not to have to walk past your office, Peter? What is going on?”
Peter opened his mouth to inquire about potential exes Michael might be hiding, then closed it. Damnation. I can’t ask that.
He frowned, ordering his thoughts, then said, “I dislike summer. It is too bright.”
Michael gaped. Then he shook his head in that cute, exasperated way he had, a way that normally lifted Peter’s spirits but barely did anything today.
“Could you please go eat someone before Dina starts crying?”
“Dina? Who’s Dina?”
“The succubus. One of the new first-years? Apparently, you sent her an email at three o’clock in the fucking morning, asking her if she could ‘kindly pop by your office for a performance review today.’ You do not do formal performance reviews, Peter, and everyone knows that.”
Michael was using air quotes. If Michael was using air quotes, things were likely on the serious side. Michael wasn’t the kind of person to use air quotes lightly.
Peter exhaled slowly. The bother. It was true about the performance reviews. Peter didn’t do them, given they were a lot of work, much of which involved caring and a personal touch.
“I just wanted to make sure Dina feels at home here, give her some special attention.” Peter had thought about making her cry in the hopes it would make him feel better.
It’s not like I was going to make her cry a lot, just a little bit.
If she’d sniffled, maybe leaving Puck behind wouldn’t have felt like such a big mistake.
Not that it was a mistake. Taking him with me probably wouldn’t have been good.
In fact, one might argue that it would’ve constituted kidnapping.
Peter folded his hands in front of him and tried to smile.
“You know I care about all our supernatural first-years.”
Michael gaped. “What the fuck is that?”
“What, Michael?”
Michael pointed. “On your face. Are you showing me teeth?”
Was he? Peter was reasonably sure he’d just been smiling, though there was still that fantasy of finding another evil ex in Michael’s past.
“Oh. I was just…thinking.”
Michael had an excellent “please do not bullshit me because I like to sue people” face. Peter liked to think he had done his part in developing it. Michael was turning that face against Peter now, and all Peter could do was…smile.
“Thinking. Well, how about you do your ‘thinking’ elsewhere and take the day off? Get some human to take their sunglasses off for you and compel them to let you drink their blood? And I’ll tell Dina the ‘performance review’ got canceled.”
Michael was using air quotes again. It had to be rather bad indeed then. The bother.
“Perhaps that’s advisable.”
Michael breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s good. Everyone here knows how hard you work. We all have your back.”
Peter sat there, half admiring Michael who, a year ago, would never have spoken to Peter in this manner. Then again, a year ago, Michael hadn’t found Corvin yet. Now those two were living in a true love story, and all Peter could do was watch from the sidelines and enjoy.
Some joy might in fact do me good if I can’t have violence.
Peter brightened. “I’ll go by the university. Students never have anyplace important to be.”
And if I happen to accidentally end up at the library…well, I’ll have to get Corvin to let me buy him coffee.
Michael rolled his eyes. “You do you, Peter.” He turned. “Have a nice human.”
“A nice human…” Peter remembered Puck, and how the young man, scared though he so clearly was, had sat on Peter’s lap. “Yes. A nice human.”
Michael shook his head as he left.
Peter, so rudely thrown out of his own office, left the spreadsheets behind to worry over later.
Peter parked in the employee lot of the linguistics department. Everyone but the linguists did. Most of the employees in that department biked to work, and the semester hadn’t started yet, so the place was even emptier than normal.
Peter did his best to stroll casually. Students basking on the lawns and enjoying the glaring sunlight looked at him as he passed.
His attire, well suited to a courtroom, stood out like a clown costume at a funeral on campus, but Peter didn’t really mind.
The library was but a stone’s throw away.
But on his casually innocent way past the linguistics building and toward the library, Peter’s composure was ripped from him wholesale.
Right in front of him, just outside the university, was Puck. The young man wasn’t dressed like he had been last night. His hair was less messy and his clothes more casual, less revealing.
Puck was facing off with another vampire. The vampire was taller and meatier than Peter. He certainly outmatched Puck. As if to prove that, the vile vampire grabbed Puck by the arm. Puck said “no,” loud and clear.
Not a siren ex, but better.
Peter crossed the distance between them at human speed, but he was no longer strolling. Before Peter got there, Puck dropped his shoulder bag in his struggle to get free. It landed on the ground with the telltale sound of a laptop sustaining some breakage.
“You’re coming back with me,” the vile vampire said to Puck.
When Peter got within reach, he closed his hand around the other vampire’s wrist and squeezed so hard that something broke with a noise far more satisfying than a succubus crying. Which was neat, because the vampire let go of where he had been bruising Puck’s arm and instead hissed at Peter.
“Hands off,” Peter said, completely calm.
“The fuck do you want?” the vampire asked. “This one belongs to me.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Puck’s eyes widen. There were tears there, and Peter did not like that, not in the least. Puck bent to pick up his bag, then glanced at Peter, shocked, trapped. So scared.
Peter turned his full attention to Puck. “Have you consented to be his?”
Puck shook his head. “No.”
Peter turned back to Grabby Meathands and smiled brightly. “There you have it. I think that solves the issue. Might I suggest you leave town?”
Grabby Meathands sniggered. “Who do you think you are? I take what is mine. Some fancy asshole in a suit can’t stop me.”
Once more, Peter considered the wisdom of going into law for his latest career. Had he instead become an assassin, he might’ve looked scarier on the outside. Instead, all he had was this very nice three-piece suit and the lavender tie. I shall have to resort to violence after all.
He twisted Grabby Meathands’s wrist farther, and almost in the same heartbeat, he delivered a gut punch too fast to evade. It was doubtful any of the students out enjoying the sun even saw it.
The other vampire bent over, though not as low as a human would have. His wheezing was very satisfying though. Then he sank to the ground after all.
Nice. Fool should always kneel.
“The name is Peter Collins.” Peter pulled a business card from his suit jacket.
“I enjoy suing people and long walks on zombie-infested beaches. Please refrain from bothering my client any further.” Meathands had only a T-shirt on, so Peter, unwilling to put his card into Meathands’s jeans pocket, stuffed it instead into Meathands’s mouth before turning to Puck and saying, “Let’s go. ”
Puck had the good sense to follow Peter, even if Peter had to lead him along by the elbow with some gentle pressure.
Once they had walked about two dozen steps, the tension Puck had been holding inside came rolling through and out of him, and Peter could tell the young man wanted to run. Peter tightened his grip on Puck’s elbow.
“Running is not advised. People like him see it as a challenge. Makes them feel powerful.”
Puck looked at Peter. “Have you been following me? Stalking me?”
He tugged his elbow out of Peter’s hold. Peter let him.
“No. Stalking would really eat up a lot of time. I was just here hoping to see the friend of a friend. Fiancé of a friend. Try breathing. I know you’re high on adrenaline and want to do things without thinking about them first, but try to focus on breathing instead.”
“Are you for real?”
“Yes, very. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Or the other way around. I can never remember.”
Perhaps I should try yoga for a change. I think I would make a good yoga teacher. What do they call them, sensei? I’d make a good yoga sensei.
“How is the laptop?” Peter asked in a bid to distract Puck when they turned left into the linguistics parking lot.
“It’s…broken, I think. I had everything on there. Fuck.”
They walked past the rows of parked cars.
“The hard drive might not be damaged. It’s likely your data can still be salvaged and transferred to a new machine. I can do that for you if you’d like.”
Puck stopped dead. “What is this? Did…Wait. Wait. Oh, shit. You know Bernard, don’t you? Last night, today, it’s all a fucking setup.” Puck’s eyes widened, and he backed away from Peter. “I don’t know what he told you, but I’m not payment. I’m not for sale.”
Peter wished he had a more personable personality. He’d never before wished for that. Perhaps if he had, he could’ve talked Puck into his car quickly, but as it stood, Puck was starting into a new burst of panic.
That meant he was not going to get into the car with Peter, which meant they would still be here when Grabby Meathands recovered, and Peter could not be murdering strange vampires in the linguistics department parking lot in broad daylight. It just would not do.
So he did a thing for which he would have to atone in the most apologetic manner later. He dashed forward, took Puck’s chin, and pushed his compulsion on the human.
“Relax. We’re going to leave now. You’re coming with me. You’ll stay calm and quiet on the drive.”
Puck’s breaths stuttered out of him as if a dam inside him had been cracked.
“Yes.” His voice was small and faraway.
Peter stepped back. “You really are safe with me, but right here is not the best place for you to be while that vampire is still looking to claim you. My car is over there.”
Puck followed. He had no choice in the matter. Peter felt guilty, and there were few things as thoroughly annoying as feeling guilty. The absolute bother.