“Sure.” Les had a few tubes of the stuff in his desk to hide his adept marks on his hands. They were even more conspicuous than shamanic marks which only glowed when a shaman was using his power.
Kavon’s voice grew distant. “They didn’t make that stuff dark enough for my skin, so my mom tried adding dark eye shadow to make it match. She told me it looked fine, but...” He took a deep breath and the bond was ominously devoid of any emotion.
“This isn’t going to be a happy story, is it?”
“Some kid called me nigger-rig, and that’s what my classmates called me the rest of senior year.” Kavon’s voice was flat, and before Darren could come up with a response, he headed for the kitchen, empty beer bottle in hand.
His uncle Jack used that phrase for any rush job or half-assed patch that he didn’t expect to last. His mother used to scream at her brother every time he’d said it, but that didn’t stop him. But taking that offensive term and then applying it to a person—a kid... Darren needed to make these guys pay. Their newest agent was a weedy man who looked like he had endured his share of teasing. Maybe Darren could send Milton on a search and destroy mission through these assholes’ credit reports. However, if Darren showed any sympathy, Kavon was going to shut down tighter than a clam.
Darren blew out a breath and projected as much normalcy as possible. “My mom wasn’t thrilled when I started showing more interest in boys than girls around fifth or sixth grade, but even after I settled on the gay side of the street, I assumed I would get married, adopt, and shepherd a gaggle of children to church twice a year.”
Kavon came back with a second beer. “Do you want kids?”
“Now? Hell, no,” Darren said. Even if they managed to reduce the number of hours they worked, there was still the impending threat of war. Other people could keep living their lives in blissful ignorance, but Darren and Zach and everyone partnered with one of the old ifrit guides had to focus on the coming battle. The evil ifrit could break through into Earth’s dimension at any time. “Besides, I gave up religion for Lent. I can’t exactly take kids to church when I can’t find one.”
“It’s not Lent,” Kavon said dryly.
Darren snorted. “Like you’d know.”
“Oh, I would. Your mother would be calling to make unsubtle hints about serving the church. Apparently she gives up manners for Lent.” Kavon turned on the local news station. His emotional lockdown on the bond started to ease, and the jagged edge of exhaustion and grief stained the air.
Darren cringed. His mother was obnoxious in her new-found devotion to Catholicism. But it wasn’t like Kavon to point that out.
“If you want to go to the wedding, we have quite a bit of saved vacation time.”
Darren wondered about Kavon’s sudden willingness to take the time off. “They should celebrate with their friends,” Darren said, “but we should spend that banked vacation time on us.” When Kavon gave him a confused look, Darren continued. “We could go to the beach, waste some money on fancy hotels or restaurants, you know, take a vacation.”
Kavon’s frown deepened. “We just had a vacation.”
“No, we had two days where we visited my mother after her heart attack. That's the opposite of a vacation.”
Kavon shrugged. “If you want to take time off, just file the paperwork.” Despite his calm tone, his emotions felt conflicted—almost hurt.
Darren rested a hand on Kavon’s knee. “I don't want to take time off by myself. I would like to be a normal human being who takes time off with his family.” Darren still got a little flutter in his stomach when he said that out loud. After years of unrequited love, he got to tell Kavon he loved him and publicly claim him. “Give me one reason why you can't take some time off right now.”
“Our unit is the only one handling Talent cases. Criminals don’t stop because we want time off.” Kavon turned the volume up on the television. The commentator was complaining about the city resources diverted to cleaning up magical spill areas.
“There are two supervisory agents,” Darren said, over the television. “You might want to consider letting the other supervisor carry the weight for a while. Otherwise she might suspect you don’t trust her to do the job.” Darren doubted Coretta would ever reach that conclusion, but her sarcasm was starting to get a little sharp, at least when she wasn’t retreating into overly polite language. A polite Coretta was always dangerous.
“There's too much work for one team.” Kavon had a mulish expression.
In the past, Darren had allowed Kavon to get his way, but enough was enough. They both needed down time. “Six months ago, one team handled everything. Coretta can handle it for a week or two weeks. Hell, she can borrow Milton and Anne, and she'll have more personnel than we ever had.” The two newest members of the team would probably appreciate a break from Kavon’s intensity. It took getting used to.
“Coretta is an able investigator, but she's a magic user. She needs someone who can handle the shamanic end of the Talent pool.”
“I thought that's why you two hired Joe,” Darren said. “He's a shaman. I even recall you saying that he felt like a strong shaman, so he can handle it.”
Kavon grimaced. “He has an octopus guide.”
“I'm starting to regret telling you that.” Darren only knew about Joe’s guide because Bennu delighted in meeting new guides. The small white cattle egret looked out of place perched on the giant orangey sea creature.
“Octopus guides are secretive and clever. You should be cautious around a shaman with an octopus guide.” Kavon sounded ready to launch into lecture mode.
“I imagine that's why he did so well working undercover when he was in the California office,” Darren said dryly.
The tone must have hit home because Kavon narrowed his eyes and, more significantly, quieted the bond. “Do you want to leave Rima with Milton and Anne? She’s going to shoot Milton if she spends too much time with him.”
Darren felt a twinge of pride at getting Kavon to use first names. A year ago, Kavon had even referred to Coretta by her last name. “She threatened to shoot Les more times that I can count. She never did it. I’m a good eighty percent sure she won’t shoot Milton.”
