Declan licked his lips, forcing himself to not be a bloody coward.To speak up.It was either ask or risk that twisting, bracing tension snapping between them.Antonio thrummed with the same apprehension as Declan.
“I… at the risk of insensitivity, Antonio, have you seen it again?The vision.”
“Nah.Trust me, I wouldn’t be talking through that.”
Declan frowned, tapping the top of the bottle with his thumbnail.
Bonds were subject to the multiple visions if not far enough away from the sluagh.Deathsight would happen when drunk or high.Sleep was no escape, either.The visions came until the death was done or the sluagh left.Always.
“It ought to have,” Declan said, his words slow.“At least once.Perhaps more.Never longer than ten minutes.”A beat, and he twisted the bottle open, ignoring the tremble of his fingers.“Will you pour?I need another drink.”
He’d been bracing for it.They both had.Waiting for Antonio to go rigid and silent, pulled back to that desolate room and Reese with his needle.
It was unbalancing, bracing for a blow that refused to land.Deathsight affected everyone.Only sluagh saw the death but once.That was how theyworked.
“I don’t know fae shit,” Antonio said, the glass still full in his hand as Declan drained his.“Is he not gonna…”
“He is,” Declan replied, as gently as he could.Curled closer to Antonio when the human sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth.“I’m sorry.Sluagh only see them once, and they’re still set.Perhaps it’s like glamour.Or Faerie’s unresponsiveness.Limitations on how you respond to magic.”
“Unmapped road,” Antonio said, voice distant and thoughtful.“It’ll happen again or it won’t, and then we’ll know something new.Be nice to get something out of being Hollow for a change.”He turned, pressing a kiss to Declan’s hair.“‘Course, I get to see you.Can’t argue with that.”
They lapsed into silence, the quiet of grief mingled with anticipatory dread.Declan counted the minutes, until he didn’t.Until he dared to let himself hope.
And Antonio, he didn’t let go.
Declanenjoyedbeingwrappedin iron exactly as much as he had the last time he’d tried it.
The metal burned the back of Declan’s eyes and teeth before he’d even clipped the seatbelt in place.By the time the door closed and the car started, the pressure had built to a steady poundinghorrible, and Declan without the alcohol in his system he usually did when in an automobile.
Six in the morning was a little early to imbibe, and they were to meet with Antonio’s parole officer at noon.Not the best time to have liquor on his breath.
Declan had his head tipped back against the seat, eyes slitted to watch the scenery pass.Talking helped, some.Keeping his eyes open, even more so, save for when the burn built to the point he needed to blink.
“Why silver?”Declan asked once they were well and truly on the road.“I’m curious to see which of my guesses is correct.”
“As close to iron as you can get and not look like shit,” Antonio answered with a shrug.
Declan laughed, strained.“Got it in one.”
“She was baby blue when I got her.Classic, but not really my style.”Antonio said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.“You tell me if you want a break, alright?”
“It’s just a headache.Besides, I’m enjoying the scenery.”Declan smirked, his slow once over of Antonio pointed.
“Calloway said iron made him feel like his skull was full of angry wasps.”Antonio countered, meeting Declan’s smirk with the faintest tilt of his lips.“I mean it.We’re not in a rush.We could still…”
“I want to be here.”
They’d been bickering on and off about it for most the previous day.Well, after Antonio recovered from his hangover.Declan wanted to ride shotgun, be with Antonio at the garage, and see the road through his eyes.Antonio needed to be at the garage but wanted to stay where Declan was.Hated the idea–that’s how he put it,hated it–of Declan suffering.He’d been halfway to blowing off his parole officer before Declan finally talked him down.
“Yeah, I want you here, too.”
“Distractions help.Tell me about your girl.”Declan stroked his fingers over the dashboard, tapping himself.It felt soodd, being glamoured in Antonio’s presence.“Does she have a name?”
“Babydoll,” Antonio replied.He managed to keep a straight face for a second, then started to snicker.“Nah.I’m not a car namer.Mara takes it personally.I tell her that when she’s old enough to drive, we’ll fix something up together and she can call it whatever she likes.”
Declan hummed his understanding.Antonio, taking that as a cue, kept talking.He’d had his nameless beauty for four years and his shop for just as long.It kept his hands busy.He hated jeeps the way Declan did liquid eyeliner.
When the words ran out, his fingers found a faster rhythm on the steering wheel.Usually, silences were comfortable between them.Now, worry built, louder for the absence of words.
