None, not even Tsuri, had turned Declan away with the consideration Antonio had shown, even as the human’s distrust hung, copper-sharp on the air, the hot scorching of sunbaked earth curling the edges of worn-soft leather.
Stranger still, his attention, that incomplete study entirely inappropriate for someone who couldseeDeclan, ghastly and bone white with his claws and teeth.
Murder punk, those words on grinning lips, as if he didn’t have the tip of his blade on Declan’s tongue, waiting to draw blood there as well.
If Declan had said,“There’s no need for luck.They’ve refused me, save for two.Those were best suited for each other.”or,“I am, actually, unfuckable to fae.I’ll show them the deaths of their loved ones, and few welcome someone that looks like me to their bed,”would Antonio have pitied him enough to reconsider?
Likely.But he didn’t want a pity bond.
A bond built as a business arrangement?Thathe could do.But not pity.
“I’ll not deny your request,” Everil said, at last, measured.Careful.“If it’s truly what you wish.”
“It is.”Said easy, as if there were nothing to explain.And perhaps there was not.Declan could do this, so he would.“I–”
Before he could say more, Bo’s voice rang out, hard and sharp through the door.
“Declan’s been bothering you?Yeah, fuck, of course.Yeah, no, it’s not a fucking favor, we’re good.Just give me– He’s with Ever.Declan!”
“I’m being framed,” Declan called back, best he could without sending things rattling.Bo stepped into the room, frowning at him.“What am I being accused of?”
“What?Fuck if I know.Call’s for you.”Bo shoved his mobile at Declan, the wordsWEIRD FAN FRIENDsplashed on the screen.
Declan stared at it blankly, then back to Bo.“What am I to do with this?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re supposed to be the modern one.You fucking take it and put the shiny part to your ear.Here.”Bo pushed the mobile at Declan again, scowling.
Declan lifted the mobile to his ear, frown deepening, as Bo looked past him, toward Everil.
“Things are fine, kelpie.It’s all good.”The human’s voice always went so disgustinglysoppywhen he spoke to Everil.
“Tell me the game, sweet Bo?”
A sound, from the other end of the line.Ragged breathing.
“This is Declan?”The last he had held one of the bloody things, it was a flip contraption with a solid weight and terrible reception.
This did not have any issue with reception.It conveyed the tight anxiety in the previous topic of conversation’s tone quite well.
“It’s Antonio.The mechanic.You came to my place yesterday?”Antonio said, an edge of panic poorly hidden under that upward lilt of a question.
Declan could nearly feel the scorching heat of a high noon sun when he closed his eyes.
“Yes, of course.”
“Right.Yeah.I need to talk to you.In person, I mean.”
If it were thirty-odd years prior, Declan might have thought the call was the creation of some particularly interesting pills.It wasn’t as if Antonio knew to phone Bo in order to speak with Declan.
But he had left those days, and those pills, behind him.So, it was Antonio, requesting to see Declan, who he’d kindly told to fuck off thirty-six hours or so earlier.
“Of course,” Declan said again, putting his cup on the sitting room table.Questions, loads of them, crowded behind his teeth, hungry for answers.In the end, only the most important thoughts made it through: “Immediately?”and “Does in front of your shop work?”
Antonio snickered, the sound sharp and reedy.And alarming.Declan straightened his shoulders, on his feet without realizing he’d already stood.
“Yes.No.Shit.”Another sound that wasn’t quite laughter.“Yes, immediately.No, not in front of my shop.There’s a park about a mile south of me.Whole granola vibe, all wood.Won’t be any kids around this time of night.”
“Very secret agent of us.Given that I’m not the glittering, ethereal sort of fae, lack of children is likely best.May I have the address?”
