Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
M ario felt when Ilya’s body relaxed in his arms and he could tell Ilya had drifted into light sleep. It didn’t bother him, since he could tell their lovemaking had been cathartic for Ilya in probably more ways than one. As it had for himself, as well; he’d never had a lover know what he was, and he’d feared rejection for it. But Ilya had glimpsed the monster inside him and had wanted him anyway. They were right for one another; they could heal each other. And even though words of love hadn’t been said, Mario felt sure they would come in time. He wasn’t going to press, and he was quite capable of showing Ilya how he felt until he was certain Ilya was ready to hear it.
He must have dozed off as well, because he woke up suddenly when Ilya shifted. The room was dark. He could see that Ilya’s eyes were open, and he was looking at him.
“Hey,” he said, smiling lazily. He went back to stroking Ilya’s chest. “That was amazing.”
“It was.” Ilya’s tone was quiet, his body slightly tense, as though he wasn’t sure what to do. Mario got the feeling he was probably embarrassed by crying, but Mario wasn’t going to let that stand.
“Shall we get a shower and something to eat? Dinner seems like a long time ago.” Ilya was a practical man, and Mario thought moving on to what was necessary was the best way to let Ilya process everything. “I’m starving, and my coach said I should eat when I’m hungry, because it’s my body telling me what it needs.”
He was relieved when Ilya seemed to relax. “Your coach is a wise man,” he said, and Mario smiled, then kissed Ilya’s cheek.
He rolled up from the bed, stretching luxuriously. “Come on, we can shower together.” He beckoned Ilya to follow him into the bathroom, and after a moment, Ilya did.
The lure of hot water and soap and naked Ilya was too much for Mario to resist, and Ilya was more than willing for Mario to kneel in the shower and take Ilya’s cock into his mouth, sucking and licking until Ilya sagged back against the tiles and spurted hotly down Mario’s throat. Then he pulled Mario to his feet, wrapping a soapy hand around his cock and stroking him as he plundered Mario’s mouth with his own. By the time Mario came, he had to cling to Ilya to stay upright, his knees weak with a desire more intense than any other lover had ever made him feel. It was also a validation of sorts for Mario, that Ilya knew what he was getting into and wanted to give Mario more than just comfort.
Some time later, they finally made it to the kitchen, then assembled huge sandwiches out of what was on hand.
“Ah, youth,” Ilya said, watching as Mario ravenously attacked the sandwich. “I’d love to have that metabolism again.”
Mario froze, then put the sandwich down and reached for his napkin. “Um, about that… I have another confession to make.”
“Oh?” Ilya tensed for a moment, but then Mario saw him force himself to relax, and he wished he hadn’t opened his mouth. He didn’t want to hide things from Ilya, but maybe it would be better not to dump everything on him all at once. Ilya had accepted Mario’s nature, but he didn’t seem ready to learn Mario was from a different world, too.
“It’s just that I’m older than I seem,” he admitted. “The Carnival has some magic all its own. You know the Mario Gallier from the newspaper article you found?”
“The one from the 1800s?” Ilya asked, raising a brow. Then he seemed to catch on to what Mario was getting at — after all, Ilya’s mind was flexible enough to accept that Mario was a mythic creature — and he blinked. “Are you telling me that was really you?”
“Um, yeah.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’m not that old, though, only like a hundred and twenty. The Carnival moves around in time. Which is one reason I can’t get in touch with them right now. It’s not only that I don’t know where they are, I don’t know when .”
Ilya stared at him for a long moment, but then he sighed. “Only a hundred and twenty. And here I was worried I was taking advantage of someone a decade younger than I am. But I suppose if I can accept that your father is a vampire, it’s not too much of a stretch to believe you’re four times my age as well.” He paused, and his shoulders grew tense. “Does that mean you age slowly? Or…?”
Mario could almost see the worry in his eyes. On one hand, it meant Ilya had already been thinking long term about their relationship, at least subconsciously. “I age just like you do, now that I’m not with the Carnival. In fact, I’ve been aging normally for the last six years, at my request.” He reached out to put a hand on Ilya’s arm. “Everything I told you about seeing you years ago is true. I’d been about fifteen for a hundred years, then my brother Paul brought me to a Circo show. I saw you and Derek, and… well, for the first time, I wanted to grow up. I told you how I had a crush on you back then, and I realized I couldn’t be with anyone while I was still in the body of a child.”
“You grew up for me?” Ilya’s eyes were wide. “You gave up being eternally young because of a crush on me?”
“Well, yes,” Mario admitted slowly. He squeezed Ilya’s arm. “Look, it’s not dire, okay? And that’s no pressure on you! I didn’t know you were married to Derek, which is just another sign that I was still pretty immature despite how long I’d lived, because in retrospect, it should have been obvious from the way you two were together. I also didn’t know if I would ever even see you again. I don’t know where or when the Carnival goes — it’s even possible I might not have returned here until both of us were old and gray. But I’m glad it turned out this way instead.”
He could see Ilya was processing everything. “So you didn’t know you were coming back?”
“No, I had no idea,” Mario said truthfully. “My brother told me where we were, and the first thing when I did was try to find out if you were still performing. I was horrified when I went to the casino and the ads for the show didn’t have you, and I thought I’d missed any chance of seeing you again. Then I looked you up online, and the audition popped up, and… well. I auditioned mostly just to see you again, to see if I still had a crush, or if my memory was just the haze of youth and hormones. I wasn’t going to even take the job, but when you showed up in person….”
“So that seer, the one who told you to take the job… she really can see the future?”
“Yeah.” Mario moved his hand, picking at his sandwich. “But I wanted to take it. I wanted to see what might happen if you saw me as a man.”
This time, Ilya was the one who reached out, taking Mario’s hand. “But you didn’t know I was married, or that Derek had passed away.”
“No.” Mario turned his hand over, lacing their fingers. “Once I saw that, I knew there was only a faint hope for anything to happen, because you’d lost the man you loved. That kind of pain is something I can’t even imagine.”
“I hope you never have to,” Ilya said, squeezing Mario’s hand. “Perhaps it was hasty and immature to give up so much for a childhood crush, but here we are.”
“Here we are.” Mario agreed. “And it’s exactly where I want to be.”
“Then finish that sandwich,” Ilya told him, releasing his hand and pointing to Mario’s plate.
“Oh?” Mario tilted his head, catching the heated look Ilya gave him and hoping it meant what he thought. Then Ilya smiled slowly.
“Yes. Because you’re going to need the sustenance — because where I want to be is deep inside you.”
And a short time later, he was — to both of their satisfaction.
The rest of that week and the next passed in a blur of work and sex, with the only cloud on Mario’s horizon being that there was still no word about Daphne and the others. Angel told him that even though she kept calling the LVPD detective to ask for updates, the man had told her that since Daphne had left of her own free will, then answered Angel’s initial text, there wasn’t much more they could do. It was disappointing, but without any further information, there didn’t seem to be anything Mario and the others could do either, other than wait and hope — and, of course, watch out for one another.
Mario, with Ilya’s agreement, had shared his suspicions about the abductions being because of their paranormal natures, but he still hesitated to mention to anyone the video and their feeling that someone had tried to kill him and Ilya, since they couldn’t come up with a logical reason about why only Mario had been targeted. Of course, it was still possible it had been nothing more than an accident, that some rigger had been working on something after hours and had unintentionally loosened the wrong bolt. Mario could even see someone not wanting to come forward with an admission that might cost them their job — or worse, a lawsuit for the expensive damages that resulted — but deep down he didn’t believe in the coincidence. No one could know what he was because of Errante’s amulet, so he didn’t understand why he’d been specifically endangered rather than abducted. The one consolation was that even if it had been deliberate, no doubt the person wouldn’t be stupid enough to try the same thing again, especially with all the additional security features Circo had put in place.
Angel moved into Terry’s apartment so they could keep one another safe, and of course the Eten brothers simply stayed together, everyone watching each other’s backs every possible minute. Angel had even warned those former members of the Carnival who were among the traveling shows, just to make sure they remained safe, and the rest that she knew about who were no longer affiliated with Circo as well. She even warned the ones who were purely human, on the off chance that Mario’s suspicions were incorrect, and Mario agreed — it was better to be safe than sorry.
The last Saturday of the month was Halloween, and Mario accepted the invitation from Otir and Frer to come to a small party at their home in the suburbs of Henderson.
“I want you to come with me,” he told Ilya.
Ilya hesitated. “Isn’t this going to be your Carnival friends? I don’t want to intrude. I can drop you off there and pick you up afterward if you’d like.” Ilya had become even more protective now that they were lovers. Rather than feeling stifled, Mario appreciated the concern, which he returned. He didn’t want Ilya out of his own sight unless it was absolutely necessary.
“I honestly don’t know, but does it matter?” Mario took Ilya’s hand. “Unless you don’t want anyone to know about us.” They’d been very circumspect at work, which wasn’t too difficult because they had been working hard to get the final touches put on the routine before dress rehearsals started the following week.
“I don’t mind them knowing about us,” Ilya said. “But how will they feel when they find out about me knowing about them?”
“Shall we find out?” Mario honestly wasn’t worried. That he trusted Ilya, and that Ilya was human with no connections to any of the disappearances, would be enough. “I’m sure it will be fine. Besides, they should know they can go to you if I’m not around.”
So Ilya drove them to Henderson, stopping on the way for Mario to pick up a case of beer and a large chocolate cake from a warehouse club. The house the brothers owned was very large and sturdy looking, with an elaborate rock garden for the front yard that contained some boulders which must have weighed at least five hundred pounds each — and which Mario was certain they’d moved without mechanical aid. They’d even put eight large, bent legs around each boulder, and enormous googly eyes, making the yard appear full of giant, friendly spiders for the holiday.
Mario’s knock was answered by Otir, who didn’t bat an eye at the sight of Ilya. “Come in,” he invited, then led them toward the rear of the house, where everyone else was already seated around a pit group in the backyard. Frer was grilling steak and chicken, and everyone greeted Ilya without surprise, no one even batting an eye when he sat down close beside Mario.
“So, everyone… You know Ilya. He and I are together now. And Ilya… well, he knows. About us, I mean,” Mario announced.
“About the Carnival?” Angel asked, raising a brow.
“That, and about us not being quite human.” Mario looked at the faces of his friends, bracing himself for anger despite his assurances to Ilya. Fortunately, there was only a bit of surprise.
“You believed him?” Otir asked Ilya. There was curiosity rather than judgment in the question. Mario understood — there weren’t many humans who could handle being confronted with the existence of the impossible.
“It was hard not to when he showed me his fangs and claws,” Ilya replied drily.
“Come to think of it, you never even told us what you are,” Angel said, mock-glaring at Mario. “I was guessing a bird shifter of some sort, given the Flying Galliers. But I can’t think of any birds with fangs.”
“You don’t have to tell us, Mario,” Terry hastened to assure him, with a sideways glance at Ilya. “Usually we consider it polite to wait for someone to talk about it. Of course, all of us trust one another, and Mario, because we all knew him from the Carnival.”
“No, it’s okay,” Mario said. He took Ilya’s hand, hoping that none of them would judge him, since his particular kind of paranormal wasn’t accepted everywhere. “I’m a dhampir.”
“Oh! I’m so stupid.” Angel smacked herself on the forehead. “That explains why I never saw your father except at the evening shows!”
“You noticed that?” Mario was surprised; Marcel Gallier was quiet and didn’t interact with many people other than Tia and Errante. It meant he tended to be overlooked, fading into the shadows — which was where he preferred to remain for a lot of reasons Mario wasn’t going to get into.
“Oh, I noticed,” Angel laughed. “He’s sexy as hell, and no, I wasn’t about to do anything about it, but I’m no more immune to that silent, elegant, brooding type than the next woman — and some men, of course.”
Everyone laughed, and that seemed to be that. Ilya was now one of them.
The food and the beer were flowing freely, and everyone was enjoying taking turns passing out candy to the children who dropped by. At one point, Mario saw Terry showing Ilya the subtle points of his ears, and later Angel swirled a finger above Ilya’s glass of beer, making it turn frosty. It made him feel good, knowing his friends accepted Ilya and trusted him as much as Mario did.
It was later in the evening, and full darkness had fallen, when Terry returned with an empty bowl from the latest round of trick-or-treaters. He was frowning, but he passed the bowl over to Frer, who reached for a bag of candy to refill it.
“There was a kid outside in a wolfman costume,” he said, and the conversation faded as everyone caught his pensive tone. “And it suddenly occurred to me — how did whoever took Cole and Daphne even figure out they weren’t human in the first place? It’s not like they were wearing signs. I mean, we didn’t even know what each other was until we admitted it. Sure, we can sense the magic on each other, but I haven’t felt anything from anyone else outside our group.”
It was a good point, and Mario frowned as he thought. “I know people like Persephone and Errante can do it. I think Persephone sees it with her cards, and Errante…Well, he’s Errante.”
“If we’re dealing with that kind of power, we’re screwed,” Angel said. “But I don’t know of any beings, short of someone like Errante, who can do it just by looking at someone. There are incantations, but if anything had been cast around me, I sure as hell would have noticed. There’s just not enough energy around here to fuel more than the most basic spells.”
“Maybe a device?” Frer joined in. “A wand or something?”
Angel shrugged. “I think we might have felt that, too. The magic around here is at such a low level that anything with even a trace stands out, you know? Or at least it does to me, and I bet you guys notice it too, even if you don’t think about it. I even went to a meeting of local witches, hoping they knew of ley-lines close by where I could try to collect enough energy to scry for Cole or Daphne, but there’s nothing.”
Mario went still. “What about food?” He was no witch or wizard, but Angel was right. The low level of magic made anything with the barest trace stand out. In all the time he’d been here, he’d only felt magic from one other place than Angel herself. Mario turned to Ilya. “That fudge, remember? You gave it to Patrick when he got hurt.”
Ilya frowned. “The Circo fudge? Are you saying there was some kind of magic on it?”
“Yes! I felt it when I ate a piece,” Mario explained. “Patrick said they give it out at the opening parties?”
“Yes, and a few other times,” Ilya agreed. He looked confused, no doubt because magic was still such a foreign concept to him.
“I’ve had that fudge,” Angel replied. “It was like four years ago, when I was at an opening party. In fact, I worked that one with Patrick. But what I had definitely wasn’t magical. It was great, but it was just chocolate.”
“No, I swear, this was magical. I felt it.” He looked at Ilya again. “Where did you get that box? You said something about theft?”
Ilya’s face turned slightly red. “That was a joke! I didn’t steal it, I got it from—” He stopped, eyes wide. “I got it from Gordon fucking Everley! He specifically wanted me to share it with you and Patrick!” A pulse started to beat in Ilya’s forehead.
Mario couldn’t blame him for the suspicions, after what Gordon had said about Derek, but it seemed a stretch. “I don’t like him. He’s a total douche, but I didn’t sense any magic on him. Did you guys?”
There was a round of head shakes and negatives from everyone else, and Ilya sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I think I let my personal dislike of him get in my way.”
Mario laid a hand on his arm, stroking it soothingly. “It’s okay. Honestly, the dude gives me creepy vibes, but I think he’s just a run-of-the-mill asshole. But he gave you the chocolates, and he works for the board, and if the chocolates are actually the way someone is identifying paranormals…”
Ilya grimaced, but he completed the thought. “Then it’s likely someone on the board of Circo is behind the disappearances.” His eyes met Mario’s, and the unspoken part hung between them.
Someone on the Circo board appeared to want Mario Gallier dead.