“Yes, you’re going to answer the nice lady.” Quirion shuddered a bit applying the termniceto Beverly, who had once eviscerated a man for getting mud on a book. It had been a rare book and the man had been an asshole and a thief, but still. In the end, she had given the book to Quirion because getting the blood splatter and bits of innards off had clearly been a job for a pro. “But you want to impress her right from the start, don’t you?”
Milo stared at the letter, then at Quirion. Quirion could see the cogs turning. His Milo was bright, he would figure it out.And I should stop thinking of him as my Milo. He’s too young for me.
“I don’t have any fancy paper or ink. Not to mention a wax seal.”
Such a bright, bright young man. “But you work for somebody who has all those things and who knows how to phrase such important correspondence.”
The relief washing over Milo’s face tugged at Quirion’s heartstrings. He was sure the young man was working too hard, still, for fear of waking up one day and finding out it was all gone. It was a fear Quirion couldn’t relate to, but one he had researched diligently to better be able to help Milo. And give his help he would.
“Come with me. Let’s find suitable stationery to impress Beverly Nyx.” He held out his hand and Milo took it, placing his much smaller, more delicate fingers on Quirion’s scales. The absolute trust Milo was showing him was humbling and heady, all at once.
Milo sighed. “You’re always so warm.”
Quirion looked at their linked hands. Milo was subtly rubbing his thumb over Quirion’s thenar. Just to deepen the smile on the young man’s face, Quirion directed more heat into the place. A delighted whimper was the perfect payment.
“It’s not winter. Why are you cold?”
Milo looked up at him. “I seem to be always cold.” He moved the rest of his hand to the heated spot. “I never get warm.”
Quirion furrowed his brow. He knew stress could cause problems with a human’s circulatory system, making them more susceptible to illnesses. One of the indicators for it was feeling cold. Bringing that up now would probably result in even more stress for Milo, which made Quirion refrain from mentioning it. Instead, he simply heated his entire body up and pulled Milo closer. For the journey to his library he needed him close anyway, and once they were at their destination, Quirion would make sure Milo got the rest he needed. He got one of his claws out to create a rift in space and time—strictly speaking, it was a lot more complicated than that, butrift in space and timewasalready a mouthful without adding the specifics of this kind of specialized travel—then carried Milo through because he clearly was due some much needed relaxation.
Milo never complained when Quirion manhandled him, be it to reach a high shelf in the library or when they were hopping around dimensions to get rare books.
Neither Quirion nor Milo ever mentioned their little trips to Sammy and Dre because then Sammy would get into worry-mode, as Milo liked to call it, and in the end, Dre would be coming with them as additional guard and if there was one thing Quirion didn’t need, it was his younger brother sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Knowing his luck, Dre wouldn’t stop at being a pain in his ass, no, he would probably get Barion on board as well and their cozy little adventures would turn into a family affair, robbing Quirion of his alone time with Milo.
Plus, how was he supposed to impress Milo with his book-hunting skills when his brothers ran interference? No, they kept this strictly private, as it was meant to be. No need for anybody to know about the incident with the crocodile in Egypt or that one time where the gargoyle had tried to prevent Quirion from getting the stone with the inscriptions of hellhound lore. Milo had been a great help distracting the crocodile and bribing the gargoyle with aged bricks from the Colosseum.
They arrived in Quirion’s main study with a stunning view of the endless ocean on one side and a clear view to the toad in the moat on the other. He put Milo down without letting go of him. The human was snuggling against him, soaking in his warmth.
“How is Mildred doing today?” Milo lifted his head enough to take a peek through the window facing the moat.
“I’m still not sure if she’s a Mildred, but look for yourself. She’s been deepening the moat on this side, moving the silt with her hindlegs.”
Among the first things Milo had done almost five years ago when he started working for Quirion was naming the toad Mildred. To Quirion she looked more like a Milicent, if he thought about it, but that was beside the point. The toad had always been a silent companion, not bothering him while he didn’t bother her. Milo had started bringing her gifts from Earth. As they had discovered, Mildred wasn’t overly fond of worms and snails, toad diet on Earth, but she absolutely loved broccoli baked with cheese. And yes, Milo had experimented witheverythinghe could think of. For her, the casseroles he brought her once a week were hardly more than an appetizer, her huge mouth swallowing the entire portion in one go, but she always came out of her moat for the treat, so it seemed to do something for her. Not that Quirion had ever seen her eat anything else. She was either super-sneaky when it came to feeding or she didn’t need it. Quirion was leaning toward the latter, having seen it in other creatures and dimensions before. It was likely that she sustained herself with the energy the ever-churning waves of the ocean battering against the stones of this island generated.
Milo didn’t care. He brought her the broccoli and claimed to have a bond with her. Mildred seemed to think the same.
“Hmm.” Milo didn’t leave Quirion’s embrace but craned his neck to see better. “If she’s making more room, does that mean there will be babies? Or is she growing?”
Quirion shrugged. They would see once it was time. Waiting was, in his opinion, half the fun. “She’s going to show us when she’s ready,” he said in a calm tone, knowing it would rile Milo up.
“Quirion!” Milo wailed.
Good. Now your blood pressure should go up, making you a bit warmer.“Yes, Milo?”
“Do you know something?”
“No. I can assure you, I don’t. I’ve never come across a species of giant toads before, neither during my travels nor in my books. Mildred is as much a mystery to me as she is to you. I would never withhold information that important from you, wouldn’t I?”
“You totally would, and we both know it.” Milo snuggled closer to him, contradicting his outraged tone. “I hope there will be babies. Little tadpoles swimming around.”
Quirion contemplated the idea for a moment. Tadpoles were fine and good, but how many would there be and where would they go? Milo wouldn’t take it well if the babies went out into the gigantic ocean, all alone, to be eaten by unknown predators. The circle of life hid its beauty well behind blood and gore.
“I think we have a letter to write.” He decided to shelve the topic of Mildred and the possible infestation of hundreds of tadpoles for later, hoping the toad was just hitting a growth spurt and needing more space.
“Yes, the letter.” Milo straightened. The loss of contact made them both sigh. “At your desk?”
“At my desk.” Quirion followed Milo to his gorgeous wooden desk, a little memento from one of the cloisters he had helped with their books during the early Middle Ages. Since the monks had stubbornly refused to pay him with their sincere gratitude, Quirion had decided that the sturdy and beautifully carved table where the congregation had had their meals on was an acceptable substitute. He was a big demon—he needed the space more pressingly than those ungrateful and unwashed monks. Never once had he regretted taking the furniture in and, once Milo had started working for him, Quirion had been doubly pleased because the table was easily large enough to let Milo sit close to him.
