Davy ducked his head under the steam to rinse his hair, raspberry scented foam shedding in sheets to swirl around his feet. He emerged, blew drips of water from his nose, and turned to swipe one hand over the misted glass. Hill stared at him for a beat and then looked away, his expression flustered.
Hell if Davy knew why. It was Hill’s body; presumably he’d seen it naked before.
“We already covered that you don’t get a say,” he said. “But for the sake of argument, why not? What better place to kill Fraser than at the company Christmas party? Trust me, you won’t be the only one there who wants him dead. Not unless he’s changed.”
Hill’s eyes snapped back to Davy’s for a beat as confusion overrode whatever weird hang-up he had about his own naked ass.
“What?”
“He wasn’t likable when I knew him,” Davy said. “Most people don’t get nicer.”
“That’s a pessimistic view of human nature.”
Davy shrugged. “It’s my experience.” He scratched his wet collarbone as he thought about it, then shrugged an acknowledgement. “To be fair, I’m an asshole, and like attracts like.”
The glass had started to steam up again. Davy let it as he turned back to the shower. He cleaned under his nails to get rid of the rime of hare’s blood and filth, then turned his hand palm up to let the hot water soak into the wound. He hissed softly under his breath at the sting of it.
“I didn’t… Idon’twant…” Hill said from the other side of the glass. “Are you listening?”
“Hmm,” Davy said affirmatively. He shook the water off his hand, the water pink-tinged as it circled the drain, and got out of the shower to grab a towel to scrub his hair. “You didn’t want…?”
Hill stared at him, cleared his throat, and managed to flush—not easy when you didn’t have a body to hand. He glanced down at Davy’s cock and then dragged his attention back up to his face.
“Could you at least put a towel on?” he asked.
Davy started to ask, but what the hell. Maybe he’d have been thrown to watch someone else walk around in his meat suit. He gave his wet curls one last scrub and then slung the damp towel around his hips, one hand needed to hold it closed at his waist.
He waited.
“I didn’t say I wanted Fraserdead,” Hill said. “What good would that do?”
That was reallynotthe sort of question that Davy was equipped to grapple with. He stared at Hill for a second and then rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“I don’t know,” he said. “It’d make my two days on earth a lot easier? Does that count for anything?”
“I want Fraser to understand what he’s done wrong,” Hill said. “And to make right what he can.”
A glib retort about how Hill still didn’t get a say was on the tip of Davy’s tongue. The seal snapped his jaws together before he could get it out, the cold, inexorable grip of it so tight he could feel it in the memory of his own cold, dry bones all the way back on the other side of town.
Hill had summoned him, and apparently Hill did get a say in what he’d summoned himfor.Good to know.
“I’ve got it,” Davy said. “No killing. Justice it is.”
The clamp on his jaw relaxed as he gave Hill his way. Fine. It would have helped if he’d gotten a rundown on the rules to start with, but Davy could take a hint. Although consideringhewas the one Fraser had murdered, you’d think he’d get a say.
That…
Wait.
Davy narrowed his eyes at Hill.
“When you say you want Fraser to understand what he’s done wrong, you just mean killing your dad?” Davy asked. He poked Hill in the shoulder with a tentacle for emphasis. “Maybe throw in that it was a gray area to go ahead and marry the widow. Right?”
Hill shook his head. “I mean everything,” he said. “Everyone he’s hurt, every friend he’s let down, every deal he broke, every business partner he’s betrayed. All of it.”
Davy started to say something, stopped himself, and took a deep breath. He held it until he remembered what it felt like to be dead. Then he asked, “Seriously? Do you have any idea how many…howoftenhe’s… What do you care who else he’s fucked over?Theyobviously don’t care enough about it to stick a knife through their hand.”
If there was actuallyanyjustice, even just a fucking mote, in the world, that would have done the trick. Davy had smooth-talked abunchof people into getting fucked, or fucked over, without making as good a point as that.
