37. Regroup #3
“Then why doesn’t he just waltz in there and grab his mirror himself? Why is he doing this? Why would he go to all that trouble, to what? Give us this nice romance? He’s a matchmaker god now?”
Archer shrugs. “That’s exactly what I’m wondering.”
“But he’s a god of-of-of night. Of darkness. That people made sacrifices to. That sounds really fucking scary.”
“Yeah,” Archer agrees. “But he’s also the god of justice. Who used that mirror to look into the souls of people and see whether they were really good inside. So he could decide their fates. And if what you say about your brother is true…”
“It’s true,” I practically shout at him. “You saw it. You saw it upstairs for yourself!”
“I did. And I never doubted what you said. Because if he’s even half as lovely as you…” I’m caught on his soft words and soft eyes. Caught in this brief and strangely beautiful moment.
How did I meet this man? How could he be for me?
Fate.
Maybe that’s the only thing that makes sense.
I drop back to the sofa by his side. “Do you think we’re under some spell? Is that why you feel this way?”
“No. No, not at all.”
“What if it snaps? And you wake up one morning after he gets his mirror back, and you think, what the fuck am I doing in bed with this guy?”
He laughs. A full belly laugh. Then leans in close, pushing a lock of hair back from my temple. “You’ve always been my type. Ever since I had one.”
“Oh yeah? Ill-prepared and poorly employed?”
“Sweet. All the way through. To the very core. Sweet and kind and determined. And I think, whether Tezcatlipoca had a hand in this or not, once we fix this problem, we’re going to be very happy together. All right?”
“Archer…” My fingers sweep across his cheek, savouring the feeling. He must be right. He must be. Because I cannot imagine not feeling like this. Because it’s deeper than just a love spell. Surely it is.
This feels like, for the first time in my whole life, like I’ve met someone who gets it. Gets what it’s like to be a carer. Gets that I have demands on me that other people don’t have. That I can’t give him my whole self. And he’s fine with that. All he wants from me is… brunch.
I lunge forward and kiss him. I love that he catches it, kisses me back. No hesitation now. It’s becoming beautiful and natural. Something we’re falling into so easily.
But then he takes my hands, and his expression changes to a very serious one.
“I’m making plans with you, and we’re going to do every single thing you want to do about this situation.
I’m going to help you every step of the way.
I’ll be here from beginning to end, no matter what happens.
I like you, I want to be with you. And I’m your friend, above all. Nothing will change that.”
My heart swells so large I think it might actually burst.
Then he says, “But…”
“But?” I shout.
“But…” He takes a deep breath. “Before we proceed, I need to double-check his story.”
“His story?” I repeat, half aghast. “Tezcatlipoca’s story?”
He nods slowly.
“I’ve just called the police and they’re not bloody answering!” I argue. “Why do you think that is? Maybe because they’re trying to hide the truth Tezcatlipoca just showed us?”
“I don’t know.” He replies so patiently it sets my teeth on edge.
“So what? You want to track his killers down and have a chat? Find news articles from the time to confirm what I’m saying?”
“Liam, no. It’s not that I don’t believe you, about any of what’s happened to you, and what… what you believe might have happened to your brother. But… I mean, he’s not the most honest god out there. And he has something to gain from… from maybe manipulating you.”
“Manipulating me?”
“Think about it. There must be some reason he can’t just go and grab that mirror for himself, if that’s what he wants. It’s possible he’s trying to force you into this. What if…”
I don’t like the way Archer’s not looking at me now. I don’t like the way he’s searching the table, as if he’s sifting through words, trying to let me down gently.
“Please, just say it, Archer.”
His eyes meet mine, concerned, and so earnest. “What if he doesn’t really have your brother at all?”
The thought is so horrifying, that I could be so close and have him snatched away again, that I spit out, “I don’t care. I’m willing to take the chance.”
“Give me five minutes to find out,” he says.
“Five minutes? Five minutes for what?”
“To test this. To… To go straight to the source. You don’t even have to stay. I can—”
“I’m sorry, what?” But it dawns on me, even as I ask.
Even as he sweeps my hands up and tells me, “I’d like to do a séance. With your blessing. I’d like to—”
“Jem? You’re going to contact Jem?”
“It could be very traumatic. I don’t know what answers we might get. And I can’t promise I can get through to him at all. Because he might not even be—”
“Do it!” I shout at him, grasping his hands tight. “Please. Please! Let’s do it right now. Can we do it right now?”
“Liam, you need to be aware of the risks.”
“Risks? What risks? That we might get to the bottom of my brother’s murder? That type of risk?”
“No. Listen.” He pats my hand in a way that’s both lovely and infuriating.
“I’m not some two-dollar shop fake medium.
I’m a necromancer. I’m a necromancer sitting in the middle of a ghost highway.
If I open that path, there’s no telling what might come through.
And things are bad enough around here as it is—”
“I don’t care,” I say, bouncing out of my seat. “I don’t care. I’ve got a gun. I can shoot anything that comes through. Let’s do it. Please, let’s do it.”
“Liam…” he sighs out, his tone turning from cautionary to sympathetic. “You might not get the answer you want out of this.”
“Please?” I give him my sweetest, most hopeful smile.
And Archer, like the angel he is, caves instantly. “All right. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. I’m so totally sure. This can only be an excellent idea.”
His lips twist in a doubtful manner, but all he says is, “Okay. I’ll grab some candles. Let’s do a séance.”