Chapter 14 Puck
Suggested Listening: Survivor by Umur Anil Gokdag & Ascence
We’ve been home for four hours, which means it’s been four hours since I’ve seen Gracie.
Luciu came into the house before I did, and I haven’t seen him since, so I can only assume he’s holed up in the bedroom along with Vyslan and Ezra.
I should have gotten a lock on all three so I can keep tabs on them the way I do Gracie, but I doubt they would have taken that well.
Darius has finally stopped nosing about the house and is stretched out on one of the sofas with his eyes closed. He’s not asleep. The fucker snores too much for that to be the case. No, he’s resting. Or seeing.
The lock I have on Gracie tells me she’s doing well.
Sluggish. Her pain is likely going to rebound.
But she’s resting, and otherwise all signs indicate she’s just fine.
No blood loss, so the vampire isn’t draining her.
No heightened endorphins, so the incubus isn’t having his way with her.
With those two in check, I’m not concerned about the warlock.
He seems to be keenly aware of the predicament he’s landed himself in.
I stir the pot with even, slow movements as I watch the bubbles break the surface.
Gracie won’t wake up for hours. Which is good. This stew is always better after it’s had some time to rest.
A knock at the door startles Darius and me. It feels a bit like being doused with a cold bucket of water.
It’s another reminder of how things have changed.
Before, the wards not only allowed me entry, but Gracie had them keyed to me. I could sense who came and went just as she did. But not any longer.
Darius sits up and tilts his head.
“Anything?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says.
There’s this tickle of energy. Something familiar.
Whoever—or whatever—it is can’t be malicious, otherwise the wards wouldn’t have allowed it through.
I cross the room, already reaching out with my senses to ascertain who and what has graced us with their presence.
I stop halfway to the door and flick my fingers, my body tensing.
“I come with beer,” a weary voice calls out from the other side.
Again, I glance at Darius, but he merely shrugs.
A dagger formed from my own blood solidifies in my hand as I cross to the door and slowly unlock it.
Farid stands on the other side holding a six-pack.
He has one arm braced over his head on the doorframe, like he can barely remain upright.
He looks hard-used with dark circles under his eyes, his normally sleek hair is frizzy and coming loose from the knot it was gathered into.
His clothes are ripped and dirty in places.
“Hey,” he grunts and slings the case toward me.
I grab it with my left hand and bring my right up, blade pointed at his throat.
Farid splays both hands. “I come in peace and to kiss ass.”
A door deeper in the house opens and closes with a hard thud.
I know Ezra is standing in the living room without looking at him.
His blood sings to me in a way no one else’s does.
I don’t know what he’s become, but it’s more than a Unique now.
Farid might have gotten the best of him before, but that won’t be happening again. Ezra is something else now.
“Your mother get out?” Ezra asks.
Farid nods and stares at the door hinges like they’re fascinating. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Ezra’s tone is flinty, rock hard.
I step back and glance between them. While I was the one that connected them, I never really worked with Farid. He just procured me a few specific types of blood on two occasions. That was the entirety of our business.
“You two good, or do we need to take this outside?” I ask.
Farid finally glances at Ezra. “That’s up to you.”
“Was she the only reason you did it?” Ezra asks.
Farid nods. “Yeah. Anyone in my shoes wouldn’t give up a client like you unless it was serious, man. This is fucked up.”
Ezra sighs and shoves his hand back through his hair.
It’s poofier than usual, which means he’s been running his hands through it.
He’s just wearing athletic shorts, which reveals the network of scars.
I vaguely recall seeing them after he was turned, but forgot about them.
They look less pronounced. Likely due to the vampirism.
“How’s she doing?” Ezra’s gaze slides to the beer. “Are those cold?”
“You know it,” Farid says with a bit more life.
Looks like we’re doing this.
I step back farther and gesture for Farid to enter. He drags ass into the house, feet scraping on the floor like he can barely pick them up.
Darius sits up, and Farid pauses, looking from my brother back to me, then proceeds to sit down on my twin’s left.
Ezra sits in the armchair Gracie prefers while I opt to sit on the stone ledge of the hearth.
Darius points at the bottles glistening with condensation. “Are we going to drink that?”
Farid peers sideways at my brother. He’s old and smart enough to figure out enough about us at a glance.
I pull a bottle out and pry the cap off with my thumbnail before passing it to Darius.
He sniffs the bottle and wrinkles his nose.
“Never had beer before?” Farid asks.
Darius grins, unable to contain his joy. “No.”
It wasn’t until after his gifts revealed themselves and his visions started that I ventured into the human world. We had no reason to try human foods, least of all alcohol. The stuff our people make is more potent and tastes a hell of a lot better.
We all watch Darius tip the bottle back and take a swallow.
Immediately his face scrunches up, and he shakes his head.
“It can be an acquired taste,” Farid says and helps himself to another bottle.
Ezra leans forward and snags one, openly watching the Nephilim.
“That’s a taste I don’t want to acquire.” Darius sticks out his tongue and shakes his head before lifting the bottle. “Isa?”
His familiar’s front paw turns into blue jelly, darting out and enveloping the bottle.
Our parents might think Isa is a disgrace, but that’s only because they’ve never observed the slime. Not for any real amount of time. They’ve been quite the companion. And proven themselves more times than I can count. I know I always have an ally in Isa when it comes to my brother.
“The dragon guy got ahold of you okay?” Ezra asks, returning to the topic of Farid’s mother.
“Yeah,” the Nephilim mutters and starts to peel the label off the bottle. “I’m sorry. About that.”
“He had your mom.” Ezra shrugs, as if that explains everything.
Farid squints at him. “Yeah, but she’s a shitty person.”
Ezra nods slowly. “Her behavior doesn’t dictate how you have to treat or care about her. I paid a lot of money to a therapist to understand that.”
“That is the fucking truth.” Farid shakes his head and finally sips the beer. “I’m really sorry, man.”
“Did you have a choice?”
“No… Not really.”
“Then I guess there’s no beef between us. Treznor made you do some shitty things. He killed me. And now he’s gone.” Ezra shrugs and sets the beer aside. None of us are interested in the peace offering, but the gesture was appropriate.
Farid’s shoulders relax and he sighs. “Thanks, man. I’m really sorry about all of it. And… I’m cutting my mom off, so…”
“That’s tough,” I mutter, my own family wounds smarting.
His upper lip curls. “Not all that tough, if I’m being honest. I guess… I always knew my dad was a piece of shit, holier than thou asshole. I wanted her to be different. But the world chewed her up and spat her out a broken, angry, mean person.”
“I wonder if knowing there’s a reason for the cruelty versus knowing it is a choice makes it any better?” Darius blurts out.
We all pause, but I feel both Ezra and Farid glance at me.
Ezra clears his throat. “Uh, Farid?”
The Nephilim whips his head around, all of us eager to leave that awkward question behind. “Yeah, man?”
“This has nothing to do with what happened, but you should know I’m not going to be buying anything for a while. I’ve got a regular donor.”
Farid nods. “From what I heard about your rescue party? I figured.” He slaps his hands on his knees. “I said what I came to say. I’ll get out of here.”
Ezra gets to his feet, and the two draw away. There are more mutterings about staying in touch, and I think Ezra means it.
I can’t begin to understand that level of forgiveness.
Yes, I understand Farid’s position. I can even empathize with what he said.
When I was younger, I certainly wanted our parents to be different.
To be people, we could love instead of fear.
But forgiveness was beyond my ability even then.
I wouldn’t dream of forgiving them now. Not before I slit their throats.
Darius drums his fingers on his thighs, pausing only when Ezra sits down. “Shit, did Farid just leave?”
“Uh, yeah,” Ezra says.
“Fucking wrong time,” Darius mutters.
“You mean it’s the wrong time for him to leave or…?”
Darius wrinkles his nose and grimaces. “I was listening to a different time in my head. Not this time.”
Ezra chuckles. “Vys and Luc were telling me about that.”
Darius’ milky white eyes go wide. “Happens all the damn time.”
“I guess having a code word wouldn’t help, would it? Some sort of signal?”
“Nah, if it can happen in one time it can happen in any.” He sighs and flops back. “I like Farid.”
“Me too,” Ezra mutters and stares at the bottle sitting forgotten on the coffee table. We’re only quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “How’s this going to work?”
My muscles tense, but this isn’t a fight I can win. Hell, there isn’t any winning or losing here. Just a fucking mess.
“I don’t trust what you are around Gracie,” I admit.
Ezra inclines his head. “But you could stop me. If you wanted to. With your blood magic.”
I incline my head back at him. It’s true. I believe I could.