As far as Clayton knew, only dreamwalkers could perform magic as easily as breathing, but Mal wasn’t a dreamwalker. He couldn’t be. The Guard would have known about him if he were.Dreamwalkers formed the Guard to regulate their powers, so anyone as powerful as Mal wouldn’t have been allowed to walk around as freely as he did unless he was a member of the Guard.
Not to mention all of Mal’s extra features. Dreamwalkers could look however they wanted, but none of them strayed beyond what was normal unless they were in the ‘Scape. It was all part of fitting in and not freaking people out.
The Guard was strict about how dreamwalkers behaved in the Real. It had something to do with how sentient beings with godlike powers needed to keep a low profile except during an emergency in order to not scare the less powerful members of the Other.
In Clayton’s opinion, Other society wasn’t as smart as one could hope for, but as long as their leaders appeared normal and kept things running smoothly, the people didn’t kick up a fuss.
The Other was going to love Marshall when he finally stepped into the role of praetor. He was handsome, powerful, and kind. It seemed as though every project he touched turned to gold and succeeded beyond expectations.
However, if the future praetor of the Other was someone like Marshall’s teammate Jack, they would revolt. It wouldn’t matter if he were equally handsome, kind, and powerful. His rainbow eyes were a dead giveaway that he was something more than a dreamwalker.
Something different. Something they couldn’t quantify. Something they couldn’t control. And the Guard was all about control.
Honestly, Clayton was surprised Jack was even allowed to be a guardian at all. If it weren’t for his friendship with Marshall and Marshall’s late father, he’d probably be labeled as Benighted and bundled off to Boston Below.
So, no. Mal probably wasn’t a dreamwalker.
Those razor-sharp teeth, coal-black eyes, and black-tipped claws would never fly with the Guard, and if Mal was a rogue dreamwalker, he’d be on every wanted list in the Real because he was too powerful to be left to roam free.
So what in the ever-loving fuck was he?
Clayton snatched off his robe and threw on a knobbly jumper and an old, time-worn pair of jeans before stomping back out to find Mal.
Clayton was going to get to the bottom of this. He wasn’t fucking a criminal. What would Marshall think?
Not that Clayton was planning on doing whatever they’d just done in the kitchen again, but still.
He ducked his head to avoid the low door frame of his bedroom, but he still banged it anyway. By all the gods, Clayton was positive the thing adjusted its height daily just to mess with him.
He rubbed his aching forehead, planning on going up the stairs to the main deck to find Mal, but stopped when he saw the man in question standing by the newest hole in the boat.
Mal seemed to be talking to it in a low, menacing tone, and when he saw Clayton, he gave it a harsh glare. Clayton saw a water sprite swim away like its life depended on it.
“Don’t be mean to them,” Clayton said loftily. “They’re doing me a favor by keeping us afloat. If you piss them off, I won’t have a home.”
Mal shrugged in an infuriating manner and said, “That was fast. I thought you’d hide in your room all night just to avoid me.”
Clayton snorted. “I was afraid that if I left you alone for too long, you’d stick me with another kid.”
A short teen with a towel around their neck popped their head out of the room next to Clayton’s, and snapped, “Hey,roomies, can you keep it down? I’d like to sleep sometime tonight, and you’re not making it easy.”
“Wh.. wha…” Clayton’s mouth worked as he tried and failed to find words.
“That’s Holly,” Mal stated blandly. “She’s a girl.”
Holly flipped Mal off, ducked back into Clayton’s spare room, and slammed the door.
“You actually brought me another kid?! Are you serious?” Clayton was going to go bankrupt soon if Mal didn’t start to pay child support.
“What can I say? She followed me home.” Mal proved himself to be an utter bastard by giving Clayton a mocking smile.
“Home? This isnotyour home. It’smine.”
Mal ignored that comment and asked, “Are you going to kick her out? I’m pretty sure she’s homeless.”
“I… I… I hate you. I hate you so, so, SO much. Why are you in my life? I didn’t ask for this. I’m a nice person,”—Mal interrupted him with an incredulous snort, but Clayton kept going—“and I have enough on my plate without being inflicted withyou.”
Mal stepped into Clayton’s personal space, halting his tirade in its tracks. He pressed his face against Clayton’s neck and took a deep breath. For a second, he thought Mal was going to kiss his neck, but when he felt pinpoints on his skin, he shivered. Mal had his teeth placed against his jugular and was showing Clayton that he could tear it out right then and there if he wanted to.
