Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
TOM
Islap Matt with the flat of the sword for the fourth time, and he swears. “I like you a lot less right now.”
Grinning, I taunt, “Aww, am I bruising your ego too?”
His eyes narrow as Ian, on the sidelines, hoots with laughter. Probably because I already beat him into the dust and Matt wasn’t sympathetic while that was happening. “You know, Gabe wouldn’t like it if you hurt his baby brother.”
I laugh. “It’s a few bruises, not a lifelong injury.” I duck out of the way as he lunges forward, and then tap his ass with the sword. “And anyway, this was Gabe’s idea, remember.” I grin at him. “Nice try, though.”
“You should be sucking up to me so I put in a good word for you,” he complains, meeting my strike and knocking it aside. They’re both really good—I’m just better. But I’m also older and have more years of training under my belt.
“I don’t need you to put in a good word, thanks. I can impress Gabe all by myself.”
“Aha!” Ian yells, and I glance over at him. Matt takes advantage of the split second of distraction to put the point of Connor’s practice sword to my throat.
“Relying on your bestie to help you win?” I ask, and he shrugs.
“I didn’t know he was going to do that. I just took my chance.” He lowers the sword and steps back. “Break?”
I nod. “I think we’re done for now.” I’m not mad about how he won. This isn’t a formal competition, and if he’s fighting a demon, he’s going to need to take advantage of whatever opportunities fate offers.
We wander to Gabe’s front porch, where Ian’s sitting with our stuff, and grab water. “What was the whole aha thing about?” I ask Ian.
“You’re trying to impress Gabe.”
I mean… yeah? “Is that news to you? You know we’re seeing each other, right?” I literally came over and snuggled with Gabe on the couch after work last night while we all watched TV.
Maybe they have Monday-itis, even though they’re not technically at school or working right now. The weekend was kind of chaotic, and they’re going through a lot of upheaval.
“Duh.” Matt rolls his eyes. “But there’s a difference between casually seeing someone and wanting to impress them.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Stop fishing. You want the plain truth about me and your brother?”
They both lean in.
“It’s none of your business.”
Ian opens his mouth to reply, an unimpressed expression on his fa—
“Oh, darn! You’re finished already? I knew I should have come sooner.”
I’ve never seen anyone snatch up their shirt and put it on faster than Matt does in this instant. I get it, though. Maisie can be… insistent. And creepy.
“Oh, no need to get dressed on my account,” she tells Matt with a breathy little laugh. “I’m no prude.”
“I am,” he announces. “So very prudish. And I’ve taken a vow of chastity. And I’m not into older women.”
She gasps. “Older! How dare you!”
“Now, Maisie,” I appeal, “be fair. He’s only twenty-one.”
“So am I!”
I’m about a hundred percent sure she was at least ten years older than that when she died sometime in the late 1800s, but I’m not going to argue with a ghost. “We meant in ghost years.”
Sniffing indignantly, she folds her arms across her chest. The movement puts a lot of strain on the halter top she’s wearing with a Victorian-style skirt and bustle, and her multitudes of bracelets jangle. “What’s wrong with all you men? Why does nobody want me?”
“You’re too good for him, Maisie.” I gesture dismissively at Matt. “A child like that? With no money, no job, living off his brother… he can’t support a woman like you. You deserve so much more.”
She thaws a little. “Well… I do have standards. And the young men are always so quick to shoot off.”
My eyelid twitches, but I manage to contain myself.
“I suppose you’re right about him.” She eyes me up and down, and I wish I’d followed Matt’s lead and put on a shirt. “You’re still gay? Because I must say, Tom, I didn’t realize what you were hiding under your clothes.” She winks one heavy false eyelash.
“Definitely still gay,” I say with strong emphasis. “And taken now.”
She sighs. “Too bad. Dear Giuseppina is always saying what a good boy you are, and I could really use one of those.”
There’s nothing in the world that would be a decent response to that.
“I suppose if you’re done with the swordplay, I’ll head off. I’m supposed to be helping Skye in reception.”
“He really needs the help.” Matt trips over the words, he says them so fast. “He said the other day how grateful he is for all you do.”
I make a mental note to tell Gabe he’s going to need to protect his brother from Skye.
Maisie flips a hand in an idle wave goodbye and pops out. I wait a beat and ask the boys, “Is she gone?” Sometimes it bugs me that they can see ghosts all the time and I can’t, but then I think of how annoying the ghosts can be, and it doesn’t bug me anymore.
“She’s gone,” Ian confirms as Matt sinks down to sit on the porch floor. There’s a free chair, but I think his knees might have given out in relief.
“You were awfully quiet. Didn’t want Maisie’s attention on you?” I tease, and Ian shudders.
“I’m low-key always glad to be gay, because men, right? But I’ve never been this glad in my life.”
“Who told her I was bi?” Matt moans, not for the first time.
“You did,” I remind him. Gabe told me all about Matt’s first meeting with Maisie last summer. “They tried to warn you to shut up.”
“They should have tried harder.”
“Who should have tried what harder?” Gabe asks, coming out onto the porch. It’s stupid, but I can’t help it: I smile at the sight of him.
“Maisie was just here to admire Matt without his shirt on,” I advise him, and he grins.
“Ah. Poor Matt. And poor Maisie.”
“I think she might be okay with it now,” Ian muses. “Since she thinks Matt’s got a premature kind of problem.”
It takes Gabe a second to realize what he means, and then he laughs.
“Not just me,” Matt protests. “All young men. That means you too.”
Ian shrugs. “I’m secure enough in myself to not need to prove anything.”
“What a remarkable statement.” Marc lounges against the doorframe. “And so very na?ve.”
I bite my lip on the urge to leap in and distract everyone. We had a couple of fairly peaceful days while he was in the otherworld, but he turned up this morning before dawn, according to Gabe, and he’s been hanging around like a bad smell ever since.
“Marc and I need to go talk to Skye,” Connor announces before anyone can start a fight. “Boys, this is a good time for you to log on to the school whatsit and do some work.”
I don’t know the details, but since it’s so early in the semester and we’re all hoping this will be over soon, the boys are using the family emergency excuse to not defer all their classes until next semester.
Their professors are apparently working with them to stay on top of things.
If things drag out too long, they’ll need to reassess the situation, but for now, it’s working.
“We’re keeping Tom company,” Matt says promptly with an innocent look.
“No, I’m going to keep Tom company,” Gabe tells him. “You’re going to study.”
The boys exchange glances, then both fold their arms across their chests. “This is stupid. The end of the world is coming, and you want us to do some dumb statistics assignment?” Ian whines. “Come on.”
“Statistics?” Marc asks. “Hmm, interesting. Statistically, what are the chances that either of you baby hunters would be able to prevent the ‘end of the world’?”
Ouch. Way to hit them in their pride.
“Nobody’s talking to you,” Matt says like a snotty teenager. “Mind your own business.”
The thing that makes Marc truly annoying is that he never gets offended.
Nothing we say seems to have any impact; he just shrugs or quirks an eyebrow.
It’s infuriating that he always manages to hit the target with his barbs, but no matter what we reply with, he doesn’t care.
Like now, that little smirk on his face makes me want to smack it, and I’m not even the one he pissed off.
Matt’s face gets red, and Connor puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Study,” he says firmly, and it’s a testament to his willpower, because I know what he really wants to do is help Matt take a swing at Marc.
The boys silently grab their stuff and then head toward the farm manager’s cottage, where they’re staying.
We wait until they’re out of hearing range, and then Gabe turns on Marc.
“I appreciate that the boys can be… difficult sometimes. But leave them alone. Stop antagonizing them.”
“I?” Marc asks, mock innocently. “I merely asked a question that was directly pertinent to the conversation.”
Connor scoffs. “Nobody believes you were just conversing. Let’s go. The less time I have to spend with you, the better.”
Marc sighs. “I’m so misunderstood.”
Nobody believes that either.
They walk up the hill toward the house, and I glance over at Gabe. “Alone at last.”
“Finally.” He closes the gap between us and kisses me. “Mm, you taste salty.”
I wince and try to step back, but he holds fast. “Yeah, I worked up a sweat sparring with the boys. I must stink—sorry.”
He sniffs exaggeratedly. “Look, I’m not gonna say you’re daisy fresh, but it’s not that bad.” His face turns solemn. “I’d still want to kiss you even if it was bad.”
Excitement and something else kick in my stomach. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I like kissing you too.” I groan. “God, that sounded so cringe. I mean I’d kiss you even if you were sweaty.”
His smile is warm and beautiful, and for a second I’d swear there are hearts in my eyes. Then the smile turns teasing. “It’s ‘cringe’? I think you’ve been spending too much time with my brothers.”
“What are you trying to imply? I’m young,” I point out indignantly. “I’m part of their generation.” Kind of.
Gabe laughs again. “Do you really want to be? I don’t think I could date someone my brothers’ age.”
I grimace. Yeah, a man in his thirties dating a college kid is… blech. “Okay, fine, I’m the generation between.” Which is true. “At least I can still say I’m dating a hot older guy.”
His cheeks go pink the way they always do when I compliment him. It makes me want to say more nice things to him. “Wanna go inside and… do stuff?” I waggle my brows suggestively, hoping to make him laugh again. But also, I really want to go inside with him and… do stuff.
He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I do, but… do you mind if we take a walk instead? I need to clear my head.”
Uh-oh. I guess this morning’s strategy and brainstorming session wasn’t productive. “Of course we can.” I take his hand, threading my fingers through his, and tug him down off the porch. “Let’s go to the greenhouse. I know where Daniel hides the key.”
Gabe snorts. “You mean he doesn’t keep it on a chain around his neck so nobody can go in there? Or have a digital lock with a ten-digit code?”
“Ha, I’m sure he thought of all that. But Skye told me Kieran made him get an extra key and keep it near the door just in case.” We meander slowly through the grass. It’s a gorgeous fall day, and I honestly can’t think of anything nicer to do in this moment.
“In case of what? A plant emergency? Daniel’s the only one who’d know what to do anyway.”
I chuckle as an image rises in my mind’s eye of Daniel performing CPR on a withering plant. “Maybe he was worried someone would get locked in accidentally.”
“The key being on the outside wouldn’t be much good to them,” he points out. “And how’d they get in there, anyway?”
“They crawled in through a hole Daniel somehow doesn’t know about, and then the humidity inside made them swell up and they can’t fit through the hole to get out.”
“Now you’re just making shit up,” he accuses, and I laugh outright.
“Of course I am! How should I know why Kieran wanted a key kept there? We can ask him later.”
“Why did Skye even tell you about the key?”
I wave my free hand dismissively. “This was years ago—before they were even thinking of dating, back when Skye had a massive crush but was still in denial about it. We were watching Drag Race and doing shots every time someone said something bitchy, and then he started in on how Daniel had been bitching all day about the key.”
“Because… Daniel was as bitchy as the queens on the show?”
I shrug as we approach the greenhouse. It’s not as big as the commercial ones we get produce for the restaurant from, but it’s big enough. Daniel talked fast to get Kieran to agree to this. “The details are kind of hazy. The queens were on fire that night, and I’d had a lot to drink already.”
He makes a sound that’s half laugh, half sigh. “That sounds so amazing.”
“Getting plastered?” I ask, running my fingers along the inside rim of one of the huge pots Daniel has flanking the greenhouse door.
I would have thought hiding a metal key in damp dirt wasn’t that smart, but when I pull the key out, it doesn’t appear any worse for wear.
Maybe Daniel put a protective coating on it? Or he cleans it regularly?
I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about ways to keep a key from getting rusty.
“Getting plastered,” Gabe agrees, “but also being able to do it without worrying that a legion of demons will invade while my guard is down.”
I stop with the key extended toward the lock and slowly turn to face him. “I can see how that might interfere with the buzz.”
He holds up his hand with his index finger and thumb an inch apart. “Tiny bit.”
“Come on. This will either help you forget your troubles or magnify them, depending on how your brain processes.” I unlock the door and grab his hand to pull him inside.