“Oh,” Antonio said, and swallowed hard.He drew in a deep breath, the steadying kind, and asked, “So, do we doing this?”
He didn’t sound flat.Nothing reminiscent ofI’ll do it.Did that count as an improvement?
It wouldn’t be so bad, bonding to a person that thought of him as amurder punk.Maybe in time, Antonio would find some kind of cheap value in a friendship with Declan.Inhim, as well as the protection he afforded.
And maybe in time, Antonio would realize he was madly in love with Kesk, offer to adopt a baby with Everil, and yell at a puppy, all in one go.Equally as likely.
“If you still wish to, I’m happy to do so.Florian is by the treeline, likely grumbling about kids not tidying up the leaves.He can stand witness.”A corner of Declan’s mouth kicked up in a rueful ghost of a smile.“It’d not do for Calloway to assert we weren’t properly acknowledged and try to claim the bond null.”
“I’m an ex-con.Car theft,” Antonio answered, flat again, the words abrupt and no answer at all.“I have a parole officer.Mandatory therapy and meds to keep me from seeing fairies.”And, oh, his smile could hardly be more bitter while still claiming the title.“My sisterswillcall the police if I’m more than ten minutes late to family dinner.And… until you answered I was trying to decide whether blue or black ink was better for a suicide note.”
Only practice kept Declan from repeating ‘Pardon?’for the ten hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes.That, and Antonio’s unnaturally flat voice, his words continuing even as he shifted away from Declan, staring at the ground.
“Just– You should know all that.Before you say you’re ‘happy’ to take me.I’ve fucked up a lot in thirty years.Think, maybe, if you’re trying to save the world, you might be better off looking for someone who’s never had their shoelaces treated as contraband.”
…what in the blood-soaked voids was Declan supposed to say to that?
“Blue ink,” Declan said, rather stupidly, while he turned the whole of it over it in his mind.He heard Antonio exhale, that same man who spoke of a six by eight, what pushing back on The Man got someone.“It fades faster, unless you’d like them to have a souvenir for more than a couple decades.”
Which wasn’t the actual bloody question or issue presented.Declan lifted his hands, palms up.He didn’t like the way Antonio, fierce and resigned and forward, with his“that’s not gonna happen”wouldn’t look at him for the first time since the bench.
“What would you have me say?I’m not a fan of peelers on a good day.You were ill used and sent back to a world that no longer believes.It isn’t like you bombed a busy civvy street in hopes of taking out a couple specifics.”
“Fuck, Christ, no.”
“Grand.I understand those are… that humans have ideas about those who haven’t toed the line or experience the world differently.I’mnothuman.”Declan shrugged, struggling to find the right words.“I don’t know the equivalent of ‘I can’t promise not to get wasted, but I’ll deal’ is, but if I did, I’d say so now.”
It was the right thing to say, somehow.Antonio flashed him an exhausted smile, and met Declan’s shrug with one of his own.
“We can both get wasted,” Antonio offered generously.“But first, tell me how this oath shit works, so I don’t fuck up the words and end up turning into a tree or something.”
Chapter Five
Antonio
Christ,heneededtostop staring.
The sluagh talked oaths as they meandered around the pond, and Antonio keptlookingat him.Watching the play of shadow over pale skin and bone, studying the way those pale blue eyes glowed with inner fire.
Daylight hadn’t done the bastard justice.In shadow, he looked like a fascist’s nightmare.An anarchist’s wet dream.
Antonio’s heart kept beating too fast, like it wanted to prove it was beating at all.All that adrenaline, looking for somewhere to go, turning desperation into something that burned.
Or maybe it was simpler than that.Declan was hot, and Antonio liked the way he walked the line between sexy and fucking terrifying.
Did it even matter?Nightmare or wet dream, Antonio was going to sell the guy his soul.What choice did he have?
“That’s it?”he asked, as Declan finished the whole bond spiel.
“Aye.But I can go over it again.”
“Nah.Let’s–”Don’t say ‘get this over with.’“Get on with it.”
Good enough, apparently.Declan turned their meander toward the forest, until they were mostly surrounded by the trees, the sky disappearing behind the branches.
“Florian,” Declan called, in his deep, rolling rasp.
The wisp materialized out of the shadows, and looking at him, for a moment all Antonio could see was Calloway.That sparkling blue skin and silver-white hair still familiar after all these years.
