Sometimes, Everil wanted to shake the man. Other times, he only wanted to laugh. In the moment, with both instincts roused, he settled for taking a sip of his coffee.
“More, sugar?” asked their waitress. She had an almost fae knack for swinging by at the most inconvenient times.
“No, thank you,” he answered, watching her go and sparing a glance for Talia, chattering happily at her captive audience. Good. He and Bo could finish this conversation uninterrupted. “I fear you could invite Declan to eat an endless number of dicks without it counterbalancing my centuries of ineptitude. Did he laugh? He has a contrary sense of humor.”
Bo was grinning at him. Everil wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it, the unselfish wealth of his smile.
“He did, yeah. Called me ‘a fun one.’ He’s an asshole. I like him.” Bo’s smile lingered as he took a sip from his coffee, somehow evading an immediate ‘warm up’ from the waitress. “I’ve got a soft spot for people who won’t hesitate to fuck things up for someone they love. He gave me a very calm shovel talk.”
“Shovel talk?”
“You know. ‘I won’t hurt you, Everil’s human.’ ” Bo’s voice dropped into an attempted imitation of Declan, down to the rasp and lilt. “ ‘But I will be super fucking disappointed if you turn out like Fuckface. Did I mention that my fae form is very scary, and my mesmerizing voice is far less nice to listen to when disappointed? No? Well, they are. Don’t be like Fuckface.’ ”
It was, without question, the worst imitation of Declan he’d ever heard. Everil laughed, however inappropriately. He would need to speak with Declan about not taking Everil’sinadequacies out on Bo. If matters soured between himself and the human, it wouldn’t be Bo’s fault.
“You should have told him that you rather enjoy being faced with fae in their aspect. Perhaps it would have surprised him into better behavior.” Everil’s voice softened with fondness for Declan. Yes. Declan. Not the memory of Bo’s whispered words while he stood, bare, in his arms.
“We hadn’t wandered to the river yet,” Bo answered with a shrug. “And I wouldn’t put it past the fucker to make fun of me for crying. Speaking of, is it cool to talk about all that now? The obligation bit of it. Talia’s still trying to wheedle an old man into giving up his hat, and you’ll have all day to chew over ways to tell me I’m wrong about it being enough to cover the debt. I’m not– I won’t get mad if you don’t want to right this instant.”
Everil spared another glance for Talia, who appeared to be holding court with both her grizzled old man and one of the waitresses. She’d obtained a milkshake, though not the man’s hat.
“If it’s important to you, we should discuss,” he offered. And then, more hesitantly, he added, “I didn’t ask you to join me in the hopes of discharging my debt. It seemed … appropriate … if we were to be traveling together.”
And, selfishly, he hadn’t wanted to go far without Bo at his side.
“Yeah, I know. The not asking me to discharge the debt part, anyway.” Bo smiled that crooked smile of his, and Everil wished he knew how to smile back. “That’s part of why it hit so hard actually. You couldn’t have– Talia knows about my ReelSelf channel, but I don’t think she’s looked at the videos. Not all of them. She wouldn’t have commented on my full name if she had. At least, I really fucking hope not.”
Was Everil meant to understand any of this? He felt like he was back in the hotel room again, with all the possible words being the wrong ones. But, through the bond, he could only sense old pain and fresh determination. Honey and vanilla. No anger, no blame directed his way.
“I’m not sure I’m following.”
“That’s alright, I’ll explain. It’s a long story, though. So, interrupt if you want to? Wherever you want to. I’ll try to make it short.”
And then nothing. The both of them silent. Everil waiting. Bo sipping his coffee and studying his pancakes. Nearby, Talia’s laughter. The scrape of a fork on a plate. Music.
“Kids here believe a lot of shit, right?” Bo said at last. “Santa, Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny. God or gods. Shit their parents tell them to make them behave or fit whatever they thinkmakes a good person. Except the kids don’tseethem. Tooth Fairy might leave glitter. The rabbit hides eggs. Higher powers may or may not do something, but they’re never seen. My parents did that, except with things like yeti, Loch Ness, fae, spirits, ghosts. I would see something or hear something, and they’d record my reaction and all that kind of fucked up stuff. That shit wasnovelonline at the time.
“You, uh. You were right when you said I know the old stories.” Bo smiled, neither crooked nor joyous. “I had to learn them because I was special. I could see things no one else could. And when my brother, Robin, was born, he had to be sent to our great-aunt’s place for his safety. What if my supernatural friends got jealous and spirited him away? Left a changeling or nothing at all? Imagine how worried and upset the however many thousand fans would be.”
It was clear that what Bo spoke of had impacted him deeply, though his feelings were muted. But Everil was utterly at sea.
Oh, he understood the broad strokes. Giving weight to the fancies of children was hardly new. Even involving the fae was an old trick. Lawrence had been convinced of the Cottingley Fairies, and Everil had held his tongue. But that had been children playing, enjoying fooling adults.
The world was so different, now.
“Your parents impersonated fae?” he asked, carefully. “And they sent your brother away to continue this impersonation? All to share with others on Talia’s internet?”
Bo lifted his gaze at the question, his expression almost dazed, like he’d forgotten where he was.
“Roughly, yeah. To share on the internet, where people all over the world can look at all sorts of shit. It was like…” Bo fell quiet for a moment, gaze still distant. “Let’s say you had the power to make me feel things and used it to fake a bond without telling me it was a lie. It feels legitimate to me. How the fuck do I know what it’s really like? It’s never happened before in this pretend world. You show how I reacted to thousands, millions, of people who never thought humans could have that, and I say it’s true. As far as I know, it is. Those people give you money and fame to tell them how and why it’s possible just for us, while you tell me it’s because I’m somehow gifted. And I believe you. Why wouldn’t I?
“Hypothetical us, we make it our life, you repeating everything again and again, the feeling and the lies. Until over a decade in, I accidentally stumble on something that tells me you made all of it up. My whole world, everything I thought of as reality, including theidea you loved me.” Bo snapped his fingers, a sharp, sudden sound. “Gone. Lies. Nothing was ever real. And all those people who believed blameme. For being young and stupid and gullible, or because they think I was lying too. And I’m the one they all have pictures and videos of that will never, ever be erased.”
“I see,” said Everil, very softly, as the pieces fit into place. Bo’s words, yes, but also the emotions behind them. The betrayal and the shame and the hurt. Old pain, reawakened by Everil and a truth so like and unlike the lies he’d been told. He set his cup down carefully. It would not do to break it. “You were ill done by for sport and profit. I am not unfamiliar with having what should be private pain becoming a public ridicule.”
“Fuck those guys, right? Getting off on someone else being fucked over.” Bo shrugged, the gesture jerky.
“Indeed.” Everil rested his hands, flat, on the table. Safer that way. Not reaching for Bo. Not breaking anything. “And then you stumble onto me. The looking glass warps again. I’m surprised you were willing to listen. I’d have not taken it so well.”
