by K. Z. Snow
“I’m sorry I never got back to you,” Will said to Simon, “but something unexpected happened.”
Simon patted the side of Will’s face. “Well, my sweet, as you can see, Clancy is just fine.” His voice was too crisp and brittle to carry genuine happiness.
Wearing a half-smile, Marrowbone edged past them. “Or I will be all right,” he said to Will, “once I recover from Simon’s tongue-lashing.”
Simon’s phony brightness dimmed. As he watched his lover, he began to look contrite. “I apologize for being snappish. But I meant what I said.”
Clancy’s drollery fled. “I know.” He pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table.
“What happened?” As Will lit a wall lamp near the stove, it occurred to him the question was intrusive. It also occurred to him that Simon was the one who’d pulled him into this situation, and that gave him a limited right to inquire.
Neither of the other men spoke. Simon also sat down.
Marrowbone cleared his throat. “I was rather inconsiderate last night. After I fed, I came upon two old friends in Purinton, Mae and Agnes. Time got away from me as we caught up on news. I barely reached my sleeping chamber before sunrise.” He absently pushed a glass saltcellar back and forth with his pianist’s fingers (as Will thought of them) and absently followed the movement with his deep-blue eyes.
“They’re vampires, you see,” Simon told Will, although he was looking at his lover’s downturned face.
“But… so is Clancy.” Will frowned in puzzlement and turned up his hands. “Have I missed something?” He, too, took a seat and addressed Marrowbone. “You’re not partial to women, are you?”
“I quite like women. They’re lovely creatures—as long as they leave their clothes on.”
“See?” Will said to Simon. “You would’ve been more likely to misbehave with those ladies than Clancy, because you are attracted to women. So you’ve no reason to be angry.”
“I’m not angry,” Simon mumbled. “Not really.”
“You were certainly out of sorts when I got to the house tonight,” Marrowbone reminded him. “It took ten minutes for us to get into bed instead of the usual ten seconds.” Smiling, Marrowbone reached over and gave Simon’s hand a squeeze.
Simon’s gaze flicked up to his lover’s face, then over to Will’s before he lowered it again. “It wasn’t the fact they’re women. I can’t help but wonder if Clancy has been feeling cut off from his global community now that he’s spending so much time in one place. With mortals. You know, he is missing out on all that bloody excitement he used to find all over the world.” Simon had given the word bloody an arch emphasis. “Can’t say I blame him for being bored.”
“Simon,” Marrowbone said, “I’m not bored. It was one night. I didn’t fly off with them. I’m well aware of the consequences if I simply pick up and leave without notice.”
Bentcross nodded. “Yes, well… as long as that’s clear.”
“As glass.” Marrowbone turned his attention to Will. “Where’s the Eminence?”
“Right here, gentlemen, right here.” Fan blew into the room wearing a grin befitting a carnival mask. Grasping Simon’s and Clancy’s faces in turn, he kissed each man on the lips. He gave Will an oddly appraising look, then grabbed his hair, forced his head back, and nearly thrust his tongue down Will’s throat while he squeezed Will’s genitals. Will made a strangled sound and jerked away, almost knocking over his chair.
“For gods’ sake, Perfidor,” said Simon, “don’t choke the poor boy.”
Fan lifted his head. His bicolored gaze pierced Will’s eyes. “He’s not a boy. Are you, William?” His voice, gruffer than normal, was almost… mean.
Thunderstruck, and aching in several different places, Will spasmodically shook his head. He’d just received confirmation of his assumption.
Fan drew his thumb back and forth over Will’s lips. “You’re luscious. Do you realize that? So naïve but utterly delectable. I could fuck you right now, right here on this table.”
From the corner of his eye, Will saw Marrowbone clamp a hand over Simon’s wrist, probably as a warning to keep his mouth shut. The brash Bentcross had a tendency to make inappropriate comments—like the one he proceeded to mumble to his lover: “Oh, don’t pretend you wouldn’t like to watch as much as I would.”
Marrowbone quickly changed the subject. “Fan, have you been taking your medicine?” he asked in a mildly curious way, without a hint of accusation or alarm. He was very astute, and much more familiar with Fan’s erratic behavior than Will was.
The question touched off another minor squall. Abruptly turning away from Will, Fan ranged aimlessly through the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, lifting things up and setting them down, all for no discernible reason. “I’m sick of hearing about that damned medicine. I’m tired of being treated like a feeble old man.” With a toss of his head, as if he were ridding himself others’ concerns, he turned back toward the table. Once again his mood shifted, but it stayed within the bounds of his mania rather than crossing into clarity. “I might be a physically mangled, buggering abomination, gentlemen, but I’m no invalid. And speaking of abominations, have you heard of my father’s spectacular return to Taintwell?”
Simon and Clancy exchanged wide-eyed glances before looking to Will.
“It’s true,” Will said calmly, although he felt anything but placid. The last thing he wanted to do was stir this pot by acting unstrung. “In fact,” he told Simon, “he’s the man you encountered at the circus yesterday, the one with that large gold wagon called the Spiritorium.”
Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “Shit, Perfidor, that’s your papa?”
“No. He isn’t my papa. He’s the male cur who sired me. Lovely gent, isn’t he? But don’t bother asking me any questions about him. I’ve no desire to ruin my evening.” In a blink, Fan’s attention leapt to another subject. “Shame on you, William, for not offering our guests some refreshment.”
“I’ve been refreshed, thank you,” muttered Marrowbone.
“Now that you’re stocking Diller’s for me,” said Simon, “I believe I’ll take advantage of your thoughtfulness.”
Both men took Fan at his word, thank goodness, and said nothing more about the father who was a father in blood only.
As Will rose to pour a glass of whiskey, Simon spoke again. “Before I forget, Perfidor, Will mentioned to me yesterday that your OMT needs repairs. So does my fireplace. Think you’d be willing to work out a trade?”
“Yes, absolutely. William, where’s the OMT? You drove it today, didn’t you?”
“I parked it in front, just inside the hedgerow. If you maneuver it beneath the streetlamp—”
Simon got up from the table as he took the glass of Diller’s from Will’s hand. “There should be enough light for me to give it a look. And I have an electric torch in my vehicle.”
He and Fan went out the backdoor, apparently to retrieve Simon’s torch before heading for the front yard.
Will took a seat beside Marrowbone. He immediately leaned toward the vampire and spoke in a hushed, hurried voice. “Please help me understand some things if you can. You’ve known Fan much longer than I have.”
“I’ll try. Gods, what shocking news!”
Will nodded, grateful there was someone he could talk to about it. “I’m afraid we’ve only seen the beginning of its effect on Fan. He’s been very agitated since he came face-to-face with his father in Taintwell today. The meeting was unexpected, and Zofen was terribly cruel to him.”
“I believe you. Simon told me about him, although Simon didn’t know he’d clashed with Perfidor père. Zofen is his name?”
“Yes.”
Ruefully, Marrowbone shook his head. “How awful for Fan, discovering his father is mad and heartless. Yes, I imagine their reunion left him in a very bad mood indeed.”
“It’s worse than a bad mood, Clancy. Can’t you tell? When we got home earlier, he was striding around the house muttering and
cursing and slamming the walls. He shut himself up in the bedroom and refused to let me come near him. And tonight he isn’t much better.”
“It was certainly out of the ordinary for him to kiss me and Simon. Especially Simon.” Marrowbone thoughtfully rubbed a forefinger over his chin. “Has Fan been taking his medicine?”
“I can’t say for certain, but I don’t think so. We’ve both had so much going on.” Will’s face rumpled as guilt bit into him. “Oh gods, I feel so responsible!”
“Don’t. You can’t possibly monitor what he’s doing or not doing every minute of every day. But without that tonic to keep him balanced, this situation is bound to play hell with his temperament.” Marrowbone sighed. “You know his father walked out when Fan was still an infant, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know that much. But nothing else. Like why Fan would rant about being a ‘parasite.’ Why would he call himself such a thing?”
“William, Fan is a kind of parasite. He’s a lightsucker.”
Will blinked at him. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of it that way. His raving had my head in such a spin, I couldn’t make sense of anything he was saying. And yesterday at the Mechanical Circus, Zofen was raving too, using some odd-sounding name and making references I had no hope of grasping.” He gave Marrowbone an imploring look. “Do you know anything that might help me understand?”
“Perhaps.” Angling away from the table, Marrowbone stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “Your lover is descended from an ancient race of ethereal creatures called the Quam Khar. It means ‘those who draw in.’ I don’t know if they still exist in our sphere or not—in their pure, original form, that is. They weren’t like tapeworms or leeches. Not those kinds of parasites. They were reputedly quite delicate and beautiful. ‘Drawing in’ was how they sustained and entertained and often defended themselves. They could draw in light or darkness, color or sound or movement—apparently a host of nonmaterial things.”
Will couldn’t see the connection. “But Fan isn’t delicate or ethereal. He’s the most robust man I’ve ever met!”
Marrowbone smiled. “Indeed. But legend has it the Quam Khar were enslaved and sexually exploited by other beings—demons or angels or some powerful elvish clan, maybe all three. Their history is murky. In fact, it extends so far back in time, it predates history. At some point, the offspring of the Quam Khar and their captors began interbreeding with humans. That’s how all Mongrels came to be, whatever their original races. Although I suppose ‘subspecies’ would now be the correct term.”
Clancy’s revelations had been pricking at Will. “How do you know all this? Fan never shared it with me, and we’re closer than the two you ever were.”
“That’s precisely why he’s never shared it with you. He only told me just recently, when we were talking one night after you and Simon had dozed off. We were discussing the Jordy Hawkes incident and mermen and such. Then we got on the subject of Branded Mongrels. I believe Fan’s guard was down because of the wine he’d been drinking. And because I’m an outcast, too.”
Clancy’s reasoning didn’t provide much consolation, and Will’s earlier fears resurfaced. “But he knows how much I love him. I don’t understand why he wouldn’t confide in me!” As he silently upbraided himself for sounding like a petulant child, Marrowbone’s impatience became obvious.
“Weren’t you listening? He didn’t tell you because the two of you are so close. For gods’ sake, William, have you never felt unworthy of someone’s love and regard? Have you never feared losing a blessing?”
Will’s attitude immediately softened. Could Marrowbone be speaking the truth? He found it hard to believe Fan valued him that highly after what Fan had said earlier.
The feeling in Marrowbone’s voice had also touched Will. A vampire was more human being than monster, after all. Or at least this vampire was. “You’re speaking of yourself as much as Fan,” he said, moved by Clancy’s vulnerability.
Marrowbone blushed. That unlikely flash of pink through his ivory cheeks was still an amazing sight. “Actually”—he rose from the table—“I’m through speaking. I’ve already said too much.”
Will grasped the side of Clancy’s black cutaway coat, an exquisitely tailored garment of fine wool. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. But have you any idea how terrified Simon is of losing you? And I don’t mean losing you to the vagabond life you used to lead. He was ripping apart at the seams this morning. I’ve never seen him like that. He was convinced some misfortune had befallen you. He still doesn’t trust the EA, you know. Especially the Special Threats Unit.”
After staring at Will a moment, Marrowbone groaned, “Damn it all.” His shoulders sagged. “No wonder he told me… what he told me.”
“And what was that?”
“If I ever again stay out all night without contacting him, he’ll be done with me.” Marrowbone put a hand to his forehead. “How could I be so blind? I should’ve known he only said that because he was worried half to death, not because he was being possessive.”
“He’s too proud to be possessive, Clancy, and certainly sees the futility of it. Simon was scared senseless. If he’s threatening to push you out of his life, it’s only because he can’t bear feeling that way. Simon’s always been carefree. Worrying in a dry-eyed and stoical way, as most men do, isn’t a skill he’s ever had to master.”
Clancy smiled with fondness. “I know. He’s ridiculously protective. I think he even frets about me when I’m sleeping because he can’t watch over me.” He put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “We’re still learning how to accommodate each other’s fears. Pledging one’s troth to a vampire is a risky proposition. All I know is, I truly love the man.” He walked toward the back door, where he stopped and turned. “Please tell Simon I’ll be waiting for him at home. And Fan that I’m willing to talk with him at any time. Except during the day, of course.” After a quick smile, he dissolved into the darkness like ash.
“Thank you,” Will called out as the door swung shut.
Chapter Five
AFTER WILL delivered Clancy’s message to Simon, he hazarded slipping into bed. Would Fan boot him out or embrace him? And if Fan did embrace him, would he take Will so forcefully that their coupling would feel more like rape than lovemaking?
Neither extreme had ever happened before. Then again, these circumstances had never pertained before: the reappearance of a despised person from Fan’s past coupled with his negligence in taking his tonic.
Could he be tricked into drinking it? Or eating it, if Will mixed the herbal powder into bread dough or pudding?
He tossed from side to side after hearing Simon’s OMT sputter away. Minutes passed, many minutes, and still Fan didn’t come to bed. Will heard intermittent scratching and muttering on the other side of the bedroom’s far wall. Frowning, listening, he boosted himself up on his elbows.
The erratic noises continued. Will had a sudden image of some hellish creature with soft paws, sharp claws, and a humanoid face trying to breach the lath-and-plaster barrier between parlor and bedroom. But of course that wasn’t the case. What was happening was even worse.
Anxiety tickled Will’s stomach.
“Oh no,” he said deep in his throat, his lips unmoving, only his tongue forming the words.
Fan must be writing on the wall, the parlor wall that had been scrubbed so many times, a large faded patch had formed. Crazed scribbling of chaotic thoughts was one result of Fan’s flight into mania. Erasure of the scrawls was one sign that he’d become earthbound again, the scattered bits of his mind finally regathered.
Or sent spiraling downward.
Will lowered his head to the pillow. Sleep had begun to creep up on him. He held the duvet close to his body as if he were clutching at hope itself. Maybe this will be enough to make Fan start taking his medicine again. Please, let it be so.
WHEN WILL arose the next morning, Fan was already gone. Was he down or up or on an even keel today? Had he gone to the Pinshinses’ to r
esume his work, or was he tearing through Taintwell, looking for his father? Will hoped Fan had at least gotten some sleep and eaten some breakfast. As hard as he worked, he needed adequate rest and food to keep going.
As Will went to the kitchen to wash up before getting dressed, he glanced nervously at the parlor wall. Chalk dust whitened the rug beneath it. Although Fan had made an attempt to clean the wall, the attempt had been hasty and lackadaisical. Blurred phrases and drawings ghosted up from the large oval of worn paint.
Timorously, Will walked over to study the remnants.
The more you promise the more you get, read the central scrawl. Beneath it Fan had drawn… a figure riding a horse? Will couldn’t tell if the person was male or female. Or both. Or neither. He wasn’t even sure the animal was a horse, for the outline of its head had been smudged.
Portions of other scattered words were faintly visible: NAG or HAG, printed in block letters; drape, roam, and root.
Frowning, Will studied the wall a final time. Nothing made any sense.
Perhaps it was a good sign that Fan had tried to wipe away his chalked ravings. He might be more lucid today, but really, it was too soon to know. His mood often shifted abruptly, like scales with ever-changing weights. A low could follow a high with little or no transition, without any period of balance in between.
Fan’s low spells were much harder on him, and more frightening to Will, than his highs.
“I have to do something. I have to,” Will murmured as sorrow and concern chewed at him.
First, though, he must either reassure himself that Zofen Perfidor had left Taintwell or beg him to leave if he hadn’t. No telling what further havoc the old man’s presence could wreak with his son’s stability.
Will finished scrubbing the wall. Seeing these fragments could set Fan back. He’d obviously wanted to erase his scrambled thoughts, like a man who wishes to forget his drunken revelries of the previous night.
Once again Will was able to avail himself of the OMT, for Fan had ridden Cloudburst. He decided to accomplish two tasks as he steamed around Taintwell. Not only would he search for the self-styled Spiritmaster, he would inquire about winter employment at various businesses. Will was an excellent salesman and, as such, was also quite adept at bookkeeping. The fact he “boarded” with the Eminence of Taintwell could also work in his favor.
