Chapter 10
PRAISE TO THE QUEENS OF DEATH AND TECHNOLOGY
Andi woke up to an empty bed. Two days after their return from Spartanburg, they still hadn’t heard back from either Evangeline or Shireen.
While not unexpected, the waiting still grated on Andi’s nerves.
On George’s nerves as well, if the long runs he was doing in the mornings were any indication.
His man loved his early morning sport, but for the last two days he’d been out a lot longer than usual.
It could also be his impending birthday and the visit from his family, but Andi was fairly sure most of the stress the arthropods in the house were telegraphing to him stemmed from this strange non-case they were currently dealing with.
Andi still wasn’t sure what to make of the images he’d gotten from the black widow and the hornets.
Meditating and even carefully dipping into the mind of the wild honeybee hive in one corner of his garden in the hopes of getting an idea what it could be hadn’t helped either, just given him a mild headache and the urge to pollinate some flowers.
He hadn’t dared to venture too deeply into the hive’s collective memories because the ease with which he had slipped under had frightened him.
Ever since he’d saved Tyler by using the bees to kill the serial killer who had kidnapped him, his mind seemed to just be waiting to dive in, and the walls he built around it to protect the blob that was Andi Hayes were getting thinner and harder to maintain, even with George’s help.
It was so alluring, giving up his own sense of self, becoming one with something greater, with a clear purpose, where there was one goal and one goal only: survival.
No complicated social constructs, no careful maneuvering through relationships and connections—everything was simple, hierarchical, easy to understand and follow. Individuality was overrated anyway.
Andi shook his head. He knew this was a dangerous path to tread, even if it was only in thought.
Individuality was one of the core elements of being human.
By giving it up, he would lose everything that made him human.
Concentrating on his bond to George helped.
The man was his anchor in every sense of the word.
He was also coming back this very moment, his progress through the neighborhood documented by the ants and beetles and butterflies and all the other creepy crawlers dwelling in the gardens of their neighbors.
George still maintained his brisk tempo, no doubt dripping with sweat, his exhaustion a deeper note among the familiar potpourri that made up his individual scent signature.
Andi allowed himself to follow his partner’s path—
The blob was enticing, healthy, the sweat calling to the mosquitoes, luring them in, though the prey was too fast, gone before they could land, his footsteps too heavy on the ground, the ants in the nest next to the sidewalk were not happy, some of their tunnels had caved when the blob’s feet had hit the ground at a particular spot, the butterfly on the roses in Mr. and Mrs. Kettemer’s garden saw him as a huge shadow moving past, no predator, though, the pheromones gave it away, faster, faster, George was coming closer, Andi could feel it, home, he was coming home, to the nest, to safety, where he belonged, next to Andi, so they could tend to the nest, take nourishment, burrow deep and never come back up, shut the world out, at least those parts that could hurt them, everything hurt, always, the constant battering against his mind, the nest was safe, mostly, George was coming, closer, closer, Andi could now taste him with the antlers of the moths hiding on the bark of the trees, could sense him through the hundreds of legs of spiders and ants and other earth dwelling creatures, the rhythm so familiar, it was like a lullaby, soothing, reassuring, he could see him through the compound eyes of the flies and butterflies and dragonflies, all looking at him, because Andi wanted to know, and it was so easy, following George like that, borrowing eyes and legs and antlers and antennae and—
Andi took a deep breath. He was doing it again.
Slipping into them, using them without even realizing it, no longer just a spectator, no longer simply a guest. No, he was something else now, and he didn’t like it, didn’t understand it, and until George entered the house, he would admit to himself, at least, that he was frightened.
He couldn’t remember his oma ever talking about using the arthropods like that.
Borrowing from them, sure, utilizing the geschenk in any way he saw fit, of course, it was his Geburtsrecht, ja?
But taking over, actively taking control, she’d never mentioned it, and he was sure she would have, if only to gloat and show him how weak he still was.
Du muast di zsammrei?en, Bua. You have to get your act together, boy.
Only it had never been enough, had it? Not for her.
The door lock sounded, followed by George’s footsteps.
Andi shook his head as if the unbidden thoughts of his oma could be divested off that easily, ha, and got up.
He had just finished taking off his pajama pants when George entered the bedroom, wet from sweat, his skin glistening, his eyes lively.
As exhausted as he might be from his training, it had done wonders for his inner equilibrium. He smiled at Andi.
“You’re up.”
“I’m up.” Andi turned toward the bathroom. “Do you want to shower together?”
“Give me a sec.” George was already pulling off his T-shirt. Next came his running shorts, underwear, and socks. His shoes were downstairs on the shoe rack next to the door. George was a stickler for rules and outside shoes had no place beyond the entrance hall.
They stepped into the shower stall together, George manipulating the faucet until the water had the temperature Andi liked—scalding hot.
George preferred it to be colder and turned the heat down as soon as it was his turn to step under the spray.
But first, Andi let the warm water loosen his muscles.
Behind him, George found the lavender soap they both liked and started foaming it.
This was a familiar ritual by now. Showering together, soaping each other up, feeling their bodies, the skin texture, learning the dips and curves and angles, the healthy muscles George had, and the protruding bones Andi had to offer.
It wasn’t perfunctory. It wasn’t sexual either, not yet, but they were definitely heading in that direction.
It was, in a way, a mating dance—an attempt to acquaint themselves with each other, a natural progression from what they did when they meditated together and talked about everything and anything.
They discussed all the little things a human was made of, just like Andi saw his fellow human beings in multi-layers: pheromones, vibrations, echoes, and—always last—the shape they took for his own senses.
As intimately as Andi knew others, he had never imagined there could be so much more to a human. Now, with George, it was one epiphany after another, his partner and lover surprising him regularly with facets neither his tiny informants nor his own senses and talent for deduction could reveal.
It also made him pity mundane humans who could never see others the way he saw George, and at the same time, he was jealous because they could never see as clearly as he did.
It was a strange dichotomy. One he would ponder another time or perhaps never because thinking about it forced him to face facts he’d rather forget.
George’s hands were on his back now, rubbing slow circles, wandering lower, over his ass, between his thighs, down to his knees and up again, touching his balls and taint when Andi spread his legs, a clear invitation George always took him up on.
Then they changed places, with Andi still soaped up, George stepped under the spray while Andi got a foam going, then cleaned his lover the same way, touching George’s impressive balls and member that twitched under his hands.
George hummed happily, thrusting lightly between Andi’s palms, before he slung his soap-slippery arms around Andi’s middle and dragged him under the too-cold spray.
Andi made an undignified squeal, which prompted a chuckle from George.
“For a badass detective, you sure scream easily.”
“Says the man who can’t take temperatures above lukewarm without starting to sway.”
“Touché.”
This too was part of the mating dance: easy banter, skin contact, teasing.
The cold water wasn’t as bad as Andi let it seem, mainly because George’s body produced so much heat.
It was as if he had a built-in thermostat.
Rationally, Andi knew his own almost constant feeling of being cold stemmed from his stature, which was dangerously close to underweight.
Because of the geschenk, he burned calories more quickly than the average man who had left his twenties behind for some time now and losing his meals quite regularly because of his connection to the arthropods didn’t help.
Since George was cooking for him, he had gained a little weight.
Not enough to generate heat, but weight nevertheless.
They stayed under the spray for a little longer mainly because George wanted to ‘toughen him up,’ as he called it, but the silverfish told Andi it was because his partner loved the close contact and found it soothing.