The pewtery mismatch of his eyes was gone, leaving them that bright silvery green again.
Davy was pretty sure that was something the Company didn’t know about.
Hill poked an insubstantial finger at the window. It didn’t do anything, but Hill made an aggrieved noise anyhow. The view had been better before he put his clothes back on.
“How am I going to explain this?” he asked.
Davy bent over to grab a chair and set it back on its feet again.
“You’re rich,” he said. “Why bother?”
“I’m not rich,” Hill corrected him. “Fraser’s rich.”
“Same difference.”
Hill turned around to frown at him. He apparently disagreed, but he let it go.
“Are you always in a bad mood after sex?” he asked.
“No,” Davy said. He leaned on the back of the chair as he thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “Maybe. Now I have to get back to work. Why didn’t you tell me that your dad killed himself?”
Hill started to answer and stopped. He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, picking out the tangles in his dark hair.
“He didn’t,” he said. “Fraser killed him. Even if Dad…even if he did pull the trigger, it was Fraser who made him do it. The things Fraser made him do.”
Davy shook his head. “Fraser doesn’t make people do things,” he said. “He just…finds the things they’re willing to do.”
“Does that make it any better?”
He had a point, Davy supposed. It wasdifferent,though, but not in a way that Davy wanted to explain to a dead man’s upset son.
“I hope whatever force governs the Invocation agrees with you,” he said.
Hill shrugged stiffly. “It knew what happened when it let you out of the Beyond,” he said, and then grimaced. “Or I assume it did, unless it forgot him like everyone else.”
There was a broken plant on the ground. Davy considered it briefly and then kicked the broken pottery and already dead spider plant under a chair.
“I never had a good memory for faces,” he said. It was a lie, but the gap in his memory bothered him like a missing tooth. He didn’t want to think about it.
“Hen didn’t either,” Hill said.
Davy looked at him, one eyebrow cocked, and waited for context. He didn’t get it as Hill just frowned and fiddled with something in his pocket. The one-sided stand-off lasted a few seconds till Davy gave in and asked.
“Who?”
Hill blinked at him. “Hen. Henrietta Bennett. She was my mom’s best friend, until she died. It was after you, but before Dad. She found me.”
“That’s…coincidental.”
“Not so much,” Hill said. “She worked for the Company. They sent her to try and convince me to take their offer.”
Davy sighed. It wasn’t his business, but…
“You didn’t agree to anything, did—”
“No,” Hill said. “But that’s not… That’s not the point. She knew Dad. They worked together. They had dinner parties. She didn’t remember him. Mom. Me. Fraser…”
Hill paused to make a face—not the usual frustrated one either—as he mentioned Fraser. Before Davy could ask, Hill pushed on with what he was saying.
