"And I'm not letting you out of my sight again." Zack kissed Michael's forehead, trying to comfort him, trying to lay claim, trying to reassure himself of something real and solid.
They packed in haste, a single duffle with a few changes of clothes. Zack swept the contents of the bathroom counter into the duffle, not wanting to take the time to sort necessary from not. Good thing we never got around to the dogs and cats we wanted. No one but us to worry about.
Michael stayed close, his worried frown not budging an inch, but his hands moved with steady purpose, his eyes hard and determined. They locked up the house, something they rarely did on a normal day, and climbed into the Jeep.
"I'm going up Route 1," Zack began, as he backed down the gravel drive.
"No. I hate that road."
"Hell of a lot faster."
"I know, but it's not like the back way is that much longer. Route 9, please? So I can see the marshes. It's… it'll just feel better."
"Okay. For you." Zack patted Michael's knee. Long car rides made his angel nauseous enough, and the long stretch of boring toll road did tend to make it worse.
It was still too early in the season for all but the most dedicated beach migrants, so the roads were clear, and the back roads Zack took nearly deserted. The marshes they drove past slowly shifted from tidal to freshwater, green and rutting with life. He opened his window to hear the birds and frogs singing, pulling in a deep breath full of damp earth and relief.
No dark shape pursued them in the sky. No strange figure appeared along the road to stop them.
"We'll be all right," Zack said, as much to shore up his own courage as to reassure Michael. "Dad will know what this is all about, or he'll point us to someone who does."
"Of course." Michael managed a weary smile. "We're not alone and we should have done this earlier."
Yes. Damn it. I'm so sorry. "Yeah, the family's always telling me I'm too stubborn to accept help."
"You're not. It just takes you longer."
Zack reached across and took Michael's hand, their fingers entwined on Michael's denim-clad thigh as they rode for several miles in silence. The delicate whites and yellows of bloodroot and pale flashes of purple wild geraniums peppered the road's edges, peeking between the dancing green of marsh grasses. Peaceful, beautiful, all as it should be…
"Zack."
He turned to see Michael had paled, his free hand gripping white-knuckled on the door handle. "Don't feel so good?"
"A little off. Could we stop for a minute?"
Zack drove until he found a gravel pull-off and got out of the car with Michael. He'd hoped Michael would've held out a little longer, but this was the normal pattern. More than half an hour in a car and Michael needed to "stretch his legs," his euphemism for "stop the car before I puke on the upholstery."
A red-winged blackbird trilled close by, a short flash of wings betraying his position to the left. Zack came around the hood and took Michael in his arms, grateful when Michael leaned into him instead of pulling away. "Better?"
"Hmm. A little odd. But not like I'm going to be sick."
The sunlight caressed Michael's hair, creating a halo illusion as the wind toyed with white-blond strands. Water reflections danced along his throat, and Zack's chest expanded with fierce love and exasperated sorrow. He leaned in to kiss those shadow-dance motes, encouraged as Michael tipped his head back and gave a pleased little moan. Shoving the neck of Michael's T-shirt aside with his nose, he continued kissing along his collarbone as he kept an eye on where solid ground ended, and backed Michael behind a screen of waist-high grass.
"Zack, someone might see," Michael said with a little laugh, but it wouldn't be the first time in semi-public. They'd both agreed that the thrill of possible discovery added to the excitement.
"Too bad. You smell so damn good." And I miss you. We haven't made love for days. Zack sank to his knees, nuzzling the growing bulge behind Michael's zipper, smiling when Michael clutched his head with a gasp.
He popped the button and slid the pull down carefully since most days Michael went commando. Today was no exception, and that beautiful, pale cock practically leaped out to greet him. Zack hummed as he wrapped his lips around the foreskin, pushing back so he could lick the tip.
Michael cried out and dug his fingers hard into Zack's hair. His thighs already trembled, and he growled as Zack kept up his teasing licks. Suddenly the grip on Zack's hair became painful, and Michael's next cry wasn't a pleasured one.
Startled, Zack tore his head from Michael's grip while Michael doubled over in agony.
"Michael!" Zack caught him before he fell to his knees. "What is it?"
Even as his panicked words tumbled into the suddenly too-quiet air, a terrible ripping sound came from Michael's back, two strange bulges threatening to tear through his T-shirt.
"No… oh, mother of us all, no." Zack held tight to Michael's shuddering frame, his horror mounting as black protrusions ripped through the cotton, growing outward and expanding.
Michael keened and sobbed, beating against Zack's chest with one fist until he finally had to yank away, retching on his hands and knees, the black bone-like structures at his shoulder blades twisting and reaching upward. All Zack could do was stay near, trying to help Michael through the terrible pain. He didn't ask what was happening. He knew. He knew, and had no way to stop it. Helplessness only made the gut-wrenching panic worse.
"I'm here, sweetheart," he murmured, as he took Michael's twitching body back in his arms. "No matter what. I'm here. I don't care what's happening. I do care, but it doesn't matter to me what you become. I love you. It's just another change. I'll always love you."
"Zack." Michael lifted his head, his eyes glistening with tears. "Run. Go. Please."
"No. Fuck, no. I don't care if you're changing. Not running."
Michael tangled his fists in the front of Zack's T-shirt, panting. He seemed to have a moment where the pain let up and he rested his head on Zack's shoulder, shivering hard. "I love you, too. Just… remember that."
The moment of peace shattered into a thousand cut-glass shards when Michael threw his head back and howled in pain. He shoved away from Zack, ripping off the remnants of his ruined T-shirt. The black wing stems shivered and unfurled in an explosion of growth. Red dendrites ran through the blue of Michael's eyes. He shrieked and spun, trying to tear at the horrible black wings growing from his back, whirling in mad, jerking circles.
"Michael, stop! I know it hurts, but they're just wings! It'll be okay! Sit the hell down before you hurt yourself!"
The only response he received was more agonized shrieking and a wing slapped in his face. The pain had obviously invaded all of Michael's brain since he snarled and snapped bone-white teeth when Zack reached for him. He struck out at Zack, knocking him to the ground, then with a final earsplitting howl, he leapt into the air, beating his wings in desperate, uneven downstrokes.
Zack tried to grab his ankle, to pull him back down, but it was too late. The last he saw of Michael was as a black blot winging away against the bright blue spring sky.
Chapter Three
"I'll let the front gate know you're coming." The impossibly deep voice was flat and emotionless, but Zack didn't read into that. For his dad, that was normal.
"Thanks. Dad?"
"Zagreus?"
"I'm not sure any of this really happened. I might just have gone nuts."
A snort indicated his father's impatience with that line of thinking. "Point me to a completely sane god. You saw what you saw."
Zack appreciated his father's calm since he still had the shakes from the soul-wrenching interlude on the marsh bank. If he thought too much about Michael flying away from him, his heart would break into a thousand messy, screaming pieces. There wasn't time for that. He needed answers. He needed to solve this. Then he could track Michael down and fix this.
The ridiculously expensive condo Hades shared with his faithful companion, Charon, and, now, this human
boy—man, overlooked the Brandywine River in the middle of Wilmington. Zack had tried to tease his father when he purchased it, asking if he thought he was a hobbit now. He knew better, of course. Hades didn't often understand jokes, and pop culture references were like a foreign language.
For the last century, his relationship with his father had been difficult, and Zack knew that was his fault, mostly. But his father's solid presence and his deductive skills were what he needed now. Thank all the holies that they were on good terms again. He was almost looking forward to the visit.
Then Dad has to ruin it by letting his boyfriend answer the door.
"Oh, hi! You must be Zagreus." The human in the doorway smiled at him, hand extended.
This? This was what he ran to when Mom tossed him out? The young man in front of Zack was gangly and scrawny, all knees and elbows, with a mop of rust-brown hair and mud-brown eyes.
"Zack. Everyone calls me Zack." The growl in his voice could be excused by a shitty couple of days, right? And the hesitation in taking that hand to shake didn't make him a dick. Too much of a dick.
"Your dad doesn't." The guy's voice was soft and apologetic. Damn it, he had a name. Something Roman and weird. Whatever his name was, he'd flushed bright red.
Great. I really am being a dick. "Um, yeah. Is he here?"
They were saved from social awkwardness by a huge dog with dinner-plate paws and a broad mastiff build, bounding down the entry hall. Most people would have been terrified. Zack went down on one knee to greet her, ruffling her floppy ears. "Hey, Nike. Who's a pretty girl?"
The young man—Tiberius, that's the guy's name!—let out a bark of laugher. "Well, if I didn't know you were his son before, I sure as hell do now. The dog thing."
He managed half a smile, despite his heart cracking in his chest. "Yeah, the dog thing. She's a beauty."
"Our princess. She knows it, too. Even has Charon wrapped around her little toe. Come on in. Your dad's on the phone with Osiris." Tiberius might have muttered I can't believe I just said that, but Zack couldn't be sure. "You okay? He wouldn't give me details, but his muttering sounded kinda bad."
"It's… hard to explain."
"Man of few, uncomfortable words." Tiberius shook his head as he led the way into the condo. "Also like your dad."
Zack had been in his father's residence before—this new one in the human world—but both times, his human lover had been away on business. It was more than strange to finally meet him, this person who had stolen the Lord of the Underworld's affections. Not that Zack could accuse him of trying to replace his mom. Persephone had initiated the divorce. Tiberius had come along later to pick up the pieces.
"Tiberius—"
"Ti, please. I'm not a Roman emperor. Or a Star Trek character. You want anything? Water? Cranberry juice? Iced tea?"
Damn it. Smart. Funny. Hospitable. Apparently, he wasn't going to get a chance to hate the boyfriend. "Thanks, no. I'm good." Zack sank into the leather of his father's enormous sofa, absently petting the dog head that came to rest on his knee. Hades's voice came from the study at the front of the condo, his deep rumble rising and falling in conversation.
Ti moved a sketchpad from one of the overstuffed recliners and sat with his feet tucked under him. "So. God of the hunt? Is that right?"
"Sort of. Not like my cousin, Artemis. I don't kill what I catch, but yeah. I'm more of a resurrection god, though, you know, like Mithras and shit like that."
Twirling a pencil in his fingers, Ti gave him a half smile. "Mithras and shit. Right. So you had… a bunch of lives?"
Zack stared out the window, trying to see anything besides black wings and Michael's agony.
"I'm sorry. I'm prying. Just thought you might want to talk about, you know, something else."
"Not really a happy subject either." Zack cleared his throat, trying to modify the growl. He held up a hand when it looked like Ti would apologize again. Why does he have to be so nice? "It's fine. Something else to talk about."
Zack rolled his shoulders, keeping his eyes glued to the dog at his feet. "It's really hard for Mom and Dad. You need to remember that. Don't bring up the subject with him." He glanced up quickly and got a bobble-head nod from Ti. "The first time was centuries ago. Grandma Rhea was babysitting. Grandma went out to her garden for a bit. Some of the great aunts and uncles were visiting. They were still pissed at Dad for the whole war thing."
"The war with the Titans?"
"Yeah. They, ah, ripped me into little pieces."
"What? Holy shit! That's awful!"
Zack shook his head. "I don't remember it. But Dad went a little nuts. He found my heart still in one piece and, don't ask me how, I don't know how half this stuff works, he planted it in a human woman's womb where I grew into a whole god again. He and Grandma Rhea don't talk much anymore. He thought she didn't try hard enough to stop it. She still blames him for the whole Titanomachy thing."
"And the second time?"
"Jealous lover thing. At least I was grown up this time. Tied down and ripped apart by crazy, carnivorous horses." Still not good with restraints… Don't think about that.
"But you didn't really, um, die? I thought gods didn't really…" Ti trailed off, probably unable or unwilling to voice the thought that most gods faded eventually and simply vanished.
"I did. Die. You know, resurrection god? I get to come back."
"Do you remember being dead? How many times do you… how many chances do you get?"
"I don't." Zack fought his clenched teeth against that sore point. No, damn it, he didn't remember being dead and it bugged the hell out of him. "And I don't know how many times. This shit doesn't come with a manual."
"Sorry. I get curious. Just tell me to shut up if I ask the wrong questions. Charon does."
Zack cracked his neck and managed a dry chuckle. "Yeah, Char would. I just don't know how to answer. I mean, Osiris only came back once, right? And even that carpenter guy only did the resurrection thing once. But the Summer King does it all the time. Don't know if there's a limit per customer or not."
Ti cocked his head to the side like a finch checking out a berry. "You're not what I expected."
Zack raised an eyebrow, wondering whether he was about to be offended.
"His son. I was picturing someone both hard and refined. Someone more Underworld-y."
"That's so not a word. Sorry to disappoint. I haven't spent as much time down in Dad's realm as you might think. I like the human world and my own realm better."
"Forests of Arcadia." Ti shot him a shy, wistful smile. Fine, that's a gorgeous smile. Maybe he is sort of good-looking. "It must be beautiful."
"I like it. We share, Artemis and I do, but we're both cool with that. She doesn't usually like guys in her territory, but she's fine with me."
"'Cause you're gay?"
"'Cause I'm quiet and I know how to handle a bow."
Ti burst out laughing, then clapped his hand over his mouth and blushed at the noise.
"You're not what I expected, either," Zack admitted, back to staring at the floor. "So long as you make him happy. All I ask."
The "him" in question chose that moment to appear on silent feet and kiss Ti on top of his head. "He does," Hades declared with a stone-serious expression.
Damn him for being the quietest being ever to walk the planet. When Zack stood, he was just a hair shorter than his father, but the volume, both physical and psychic, that he displaced in any room always made him seem so much larger. "Dad, I—"
Hades shocked the breath out of his only son by yanking him into a hard embrace and murmuring in his ear, "I'm sorry, Zagreus. So sorry this has happened to you."
"Thanks," Zack whispered, taking advantage of the unexpected refuge of his father's broad shoulder to swallow back tears. "I don't know what to do."
Hades pulled back, blue eyes the shade of a clear winter evening regarding him steadily. "I know. Sit down. Tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Everythin
g." Even during the simple act of crossing the room to sit in the largest black leather armchair, Hades exuded power and grace. He settled, regal, unhurried, reminding Zack that his father had weighed the relative merits of thousands of lives with patient, evenhanded justice. This was what he did, in his old life as a ruler of the dead and in his new life as a private investigator. He assembled bits of truth and decided how they fit together.
Zack sank back down on the sofa, and Nike put her head back on his knee as if realizing he needed the moral support. After a few slow breaths, he began, starting with his odd feelings of impending doom and ending with Michael's agonizing metamorphosis. When he finished, his father prodded him through the telling again, and then a third time, Zack's anguish and frustration mounting with each recounting.
"Hey." Ti nudged Hades's shoulder and set a bottle of water in front of Zack. "He's your son, not a suspect, right? Ease up."
"I merely—"
"Oh, I know what you merely, Mr. Dig Right Through No Matter What. Just turn off the interrogation spotlight and go gentle, okay? Zack's trying, but making him more upset won't help him remember."
Zack thought he might have to pick his jaw up from the first floor lobby on the way out. No one talked to his dad like that. Maybe Dionysus, but Dio was crazy. This skinny human said a few words and Lord Hades sat back and shut up? Any other day, it would've been hilarious.
"Thanks, Ti." Zack held up a hand. "But it's fine. Dad, it's fine. Whatever you need to do if it helps."
Hades's silver eyebrows stayed elevated a moment longer, then he nodded to Ti, some obvious understanding passing between them. Ti tucked back into his chair with his sketchpad as the questions focused on specifics, Hades pulling out things Zack didn't even realize he remembered. The quiet, methodical interrogation left him shaking.
"Here, your lordship." Ti handed over his sketchpad, doodles and odd diagrams from what Zack could see.
Hades looked it over with a heavy frown before he got up to pace. The dog left Zack to follow him with anxious glances up at his face. When Hades stopped to stare out at his personal view of the Brandywine, Nike sat beside him. The frown had only deepened.
No Enemy But Time (A Brandywine Investigations Universe Story) Page 3
