by Kody Boye
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened to reveal Aerick, dressed plainly in a white T and jeans. “Hey,” he said. “You need any help?”
“Actually,” I confessed, “I could use some company. I’m feeling rather alone in this whole endeavor.”
“You’re never alone when you have me around, buddy.”
“Thanks.”
He slapped an arm around my upper back then crouched down to help me strip the sheet from the bed. He folded it cautiously—as if unsure if he was doing it correctly—then gave a quick sweep of the room with his eyes. “You’re sure you even want any of this stuff?” he asked.
“Some of it may come in handy,” I replied. “Others might be useful. Especially the clothes.”
“It’s not like you’re going to fit into them.”
“Neither will you, but someone else might want them.”
“Don’t blame me for being short,” he laughed. “I’m, what? Five-five? And you’re five-seven at the most?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re still technically ‘short’ too, sir.”
“I guess you’re right,” I laughed, accepting the sheet as he passed it over. I tucked it into the bag I was packing all the dirty clothes in before lifting my eyes to look at him. “You know… you’ve never really told me a whole lot about yourself.”
“It’s not like you’ve asked,” he said. “And besides—we’ve only known each other for a few days. But ask anything. I’m game.”
“Where’d you get your name? Not very often you see an Ae in Aerick.”
“My dad had a thing for fantasy novels,” the other man shrugged. “Mom wanted to name me Erik, he wanted something with flair. So… Aerick. A-E-R-I-C-K.”
“Interesting,” I said. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Shit,” I laughed. “I thought you were my age.”
“Not used to getting plowed by guys younger than you?”
I snorted. “Pfft,” I said. “I’ll have you know, mister hotshot, that I’m normally into men my age or older.”
“So what do you think of me?”
It was a question I hadn’t anticipated—had, naturally, thought about since having met him and interacting with him in such an intimate way. Aerick was… an enigma, if such a thing were to exist. He was short, slight in stature, almost boyish in respect, but underneath that youthful exterior lay a hardened man who life had dealt some difficult blows. There way no denying his appeal—that his ‘bad boy that gave it to you straight or not at all’ persona was attractive in its own way—but I’d never considered him to be anything more than temporary: a transition back to Guy when the time finally came.
Could he possibly be more, though?
I didn’t know—couldn’t until I got to know him more and understood the inner workings of his person. But regardless, that didn’t mean I couldn’t engage with him. He was a nice enough guy, hot as hell and phenomenal in bed. And if we were just going to be friends-with-benefits… so be it. There was nothing wrong with that.
“Uh… Jason?” Aerick asked.
“Yeah?” I replied.
“You’re giving me a funny look.”
“I was just thinking,” I replied. “It’s one of my more endearing qualities.”
“I’ve noticed,” he chuckled. “Let me guess. You were one of those bookish types who went to school to be a teacher, weren’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“And? What happened?”
“Life,” I said. “A plagiarism accusation. A guy’s in with the dissertation committee. The charge.”
“Shit, man. And Guy saved you from all of that?”
“‘Save’ is a stretch, if you consider everything that happened.”
“I mean, you’re not living in financial aid hell, are you?”
“No.”
“And you’re not on the streets or turning tricks with that sweet ass of yours.”
“No,” I replied.
“If you ask me, you’ve got it made. At least in your case you had somewhat of a choice. Me? I got attacked when I was twenty-one. Then it was all downhill from there.”
“I guess you can think of it this way,” I said. “We wouldn’t have met if circumstances would’ve been different.”
“I guess not,” Aerick said.
He reached out and graced my hand with his palm.
I laced our fingers together.
At that moment, it was exactly what I needed.
13
Baptiste didn’t return with the vehicle—a decommissioned school bus that had been repainted grey—until late that evening. As such, we remained behind that night—because fearing consequence, and the risk of potential assault, I didn’t want to risk the safety of any of our group by traveling after dark.
Aerick—who had remained my constant companion throughout the day—chose to forego the sanctuary of his own bed and instead slept next to me. I listened to the sound of his breathing as I tried to grapple with the reality that we would soon be joining with the Kaldr.
A multitude of thoughts rushed through my head, assaulting my conscience and attempting to batter down the armaments I’d so vicariously pulled up. My first thought was of how the Kaldr would respond come the time we arrived tomorrow afternoon, my next of how their reactions would reflect upon the Howlers who were so fortunately being accepted in their midst. My third, and undoubtedly most haunting thought, was of Guy—of how, when I arrived, Aerick would react to our potential reconciliation; and of how, regardless of whether or not that happened, he would continue to respond to Aerick.
The younger man was a good guy—a bit headstrong but faithful and a good friend. While I’m certain he would understand if I chose to pursue my relationship with Guy—and would probably be more than comfortable rising to the status as my warm flesh—I didn’t want him to feel slighted, especially not when we’d become so close.
Though I knew I liked Aerick, I knew I had to make a decision about our potential relationship—and soon.
Sighing, I brushed a hand across his brow to push the strands of hair from his eyes and scooted closer, melting against his warm body. He mumbled something in his sleep before rolling onto his opposite side. It was as if he’d sensed my need for companionship, even in his sleep, and as such had compensated for that fact.
I draped an arm across his waist, closed my eyes, and tried to succumb to a night of sleep I knew would not be fruitful.
14
The fifteen of us who would be riding on the bus boarded silently and without issue after we secured the compound under a thick layer of mud and dirt. The two remaining Howlers—who would follow our rear not only to ensure our safety, but to transport the remaining vehicle to the ranch—waited patiently for Baptiste to begin the long and lengthy journey to Central Texas.
I, at the front of the bus, watched the man fumble with the controls—closing first the sliding door, then shifting into drive. The bus, though old, lurched forward without effort, and soon we were on our way.
I tried not to remain pessimistic as he merged onto the main road and began to make his way toward what would eventually become the interstate. With no way to alert the Kaldr to our impending arrival, it was likely that we would be met with suspicion and hostility, if only because of our unexpected arrival days after we had declared our intentions. The knife couldn’t have been raised any higher at that moment, nor balanced any closer to the backs of those who likely felt we wanted something more from them. Regardless, I couldn’t dwell on it, especially not with so many eyes on me.
“We’re probably going to be put in tents the first few days we’re there,” I said, lifting my eyes to look at the fifteen individuals in the rearview mirrors. “At least until room is made in the barns for us. I know it won’t be pleasant, but we’ll at least be comfortable with the knowledge that we’re aligned with another supernatural race.”
“You think
there’ll be any issues?” a red-headed Howler asked, running a hand through his hair and then down through the scraggly mess of his thickening beard.
“I wish I could say no, but we’re arriving unexpectedly. I think Elliot was under the impression that we’d let him know before we arrived.”
“That was before the Sanguine decided to attack,” Poem said.
Baptiste grunted his approval.
“What I think will happen,” I continued, turning my head and raising my voice in attempt to make myself heard, “is that we’ll be met with some hesitancy. Nothing more, nothing less. None of the Kaldr I’ve met on the ranch have been particularly violent. If anything…” I paused. “They’re more like the Amish.”
“Without the ‘no premarital sex’ rule,” Aerick commented.
“Yeah. Without the ‘no prematiral sex’ rule.”
The younger man snickered and moved up a few seats to sit in the row behind me. “So,” he said, draping his bare arms over the back of my seat. “You think we’ll have a celebratory three-way with Mr. Winters when we get back?”
“I’m not sure what’ll happen, if you want me to be perfectly honest.”
“My offer still stands. If you need to feed, do it off me.”
“Would you mind if I…” I faltered, then reached down to touch his wrist. He lifted his hand and sighed when I pressed my lips to the veins snaking just above his palm.
“Damn,” he sighed, bowing his head and leaning his body against the seat. “That’s, like, the most relaxing feeling ever.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I said, drawing away. “I hope I didn’t take too much. I’m still learning how this whole ‘feeding’ thing works.”
“I just feel sleepy, that’s all.”
“Take nap. It’ll be a while before we get to Fredericksburg.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” he said, leaning back against his own seat. He yawned, stretched his arms out over his head, and closed his eyes before crossing his arms under his pecs. “Jason,” he said.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“When I said my offer still stands… I meant for both of you.”
“Both of us?” I frowned.
He nodded.
Before I could question him further, his head drifted to the side. Soon after, the sound of his soft breathing confirmed he was asleep.
I turned to find Poem watching the two of us from her place near Baptiste, her brown eyes alight with interest. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No,” she replied, turning away.
I frowned.
What had she wanted to say?
No matter.
I couldn’t dwell on it now.
In less than nine hours, we would be at the Winters’ family ranch.
I dreaded what would happen come time we arrived.
Part 3
1
Elliot Winters greeted us almost immediately as we rolled onto the grounds and began to disembark from the bus. Our arrival, unexpected as it was, had drawn a crowd, and in their faces lay both contempt and question I could’ve never imagined.
“Jason,” Elliot said, reaching out to take my hand. “This is… unexpected.”
“I’m sorry for arriving on such short notice,” I said. “But under the current circumstances—”
“Your bunker isn’t even ready yet.”
“I know. But you didn’t let me finish.”
Elliot frowned. “You’ve… had complications,” he said. “Haven’t you?”
“We were attacked by the Sanguine. I was personally assaulted by a Banshee.”
“Are you all right?” a familiar voice asked.
I looked up to see Guy approach, striking even in a simple wifebeater and pair of cut-off shorts. “Yeah,” I said, taking a step forward. “I’m ok.”
“Were you hurt at all?”
“A little, but… I had help.”
“From who?”
I considered the people standing behind me before I said, “Folkhagi.”
He accepted me into his arms and sighed as he bowed his face into my hair. “Thank the Mother,” he whispered.
A familiar presence appeared in my peripheral. Aerick—whom had remained quiet and allowed us our own personal moment up until this point—reached out to take hold of Guy’s hand. “Good to see you again, bud.”
“You too,” Guy smiled. “I trust you’ve been taking care of him?”
“Jason’s a handful, but yeah, I’ve been keeping an eye on him.”
“You two are horrible,” I laughed. I turned to face Elliot Winters and immediately sobered when I realized the situation was not just limited to myself and two other people. I cleared my throat, cast a glance at Baptiste, and gestured him forward before saying, “Baptiste, this is Mr. Elliot Winters. Elliot, this is Baptiste—Pierre’s former and now my right-hand-man.”
“A pleasure,” Baptiste said. Neither of the men shook hands. It took me only a moment to realize that they’d probably already met, and that it had been Baptiste who had accompanied Pierre the last time he had set foot on his ranch.
“I want you to listen to everything Elliot tells you,” I said, directing my gaze not only at Baptiste, but at Poem and the other Howlers around me. “Or that anything his partner, Amadeo Castellano, or his son, Guy, have to say. We’re here because of their kindness, and I don’t want us to overextend our welcome by doing something they wouldn’t want us to. Do I make myself clear?”
The chorus of ‘yeses’ and ‘yes sirs’ was enough to answer my question.
I turned to face Elliot. “Where do you want us for the time being?” I asked.
“I’ll have Amadeo run into town for tents,” he replied. “Until then… welcome to my heimili—or, as the Kaldr would say: my home. Feel free to explore as you wish, but do not enter anyone’s personal quarters without explicit permission. Those who would like to make themselves useful can find gardening tools in the far shed. I’d like my fields cleaned of any unnecessary debris for the following year’s crops.”
2
Aerick chose to explore the homestead while Guy and I retreated to his quarters to discuss the matters at hand. Still nervous over the possibility that he would be upset with Aerick’s presence and that it could potentially cause an argument, I remained silent as he walked through the kitchen, pouring us shots of scotch and filling the glasses with a single ice cube a piece. “So,” he said as he passed me my glass, nodding as I reared my head back and downed it whole. “I take it your trip here went well?”
“It was uneventful,” I replied, setting the glass down on the kitchen island and seating myself in the nearest barstool. “Quiet. Not much happening. Baptiste had already gassed up, so it wasn’t like we had to stop or anything.”
“I don’t think my father will have room for such a vehicle in any of his garages.”
“I know. Which is why I intend to let him decide on what we do with it.”
“It could be stripped down and turned into a small home,” Guy shrugged, glancing out the window to view the menagerie of Kaldr and Howlers spiritedly working in the fields together. “This is going smoother than I imagined it would.”
“The bad seeds left when I said we were coming here,” I replied, then sighed as I thought back to what had happened the previous night. “God. I hope they were smart enough to secure themselves before they changed.”
“We’ll hear about it if they don’t,” Guy replied.
Nodding, I accepted another shot of scotch. This time, however, I only sipped it, and instead watched Guy with careful eyes. I felt the question brewing behind his lips—knew, without a doubt, that we would soon be discussing the elephant in the room. So, rather than allow it to fester like some expanding disease beneath a scientist’s microscope, I sighed and said, “About Aerick…”
“Have you decided to take him as your warm flesh yet?”
I nodded. “Actually,” I then said, thinking back to what he’d mentioned on the bus, “he�
�s offered to be both of ours.”
“He has?” Guy frowned.
Once again, I nodded.
The man shifted the scotch in his glass before taking another sip of it. “That is… interesting,” he said, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “I wouldn’t have expected him to offer himself up to both of us.”
“He knows my relationship with you,” I said. “Or my history, I should say. And he thinks you’re beautiful. He’s been more than forthcoming about offering himself to you should you feel the need to feed.”
“That is awfully generous of him,” Guy replied.
“He was the only one who offered to let me feed off him in the compound. He approached me, not the other way around.”
“I never asked that.”
“I know, but… I can tell you’re wondering. It’s the way you look at me whenever I discuss… well… he and I.”
“I appreciate your honesty, Jason. But like I said: I don’t mind if he asked you or you him. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Can we talk about something?” I asked, then clarified by adding, “Us?”
Guy didn’t say anything. He merely took another drink of his scotch before returning to the fridge to fetch a jug of water. “I’m listening,” he said.
I hadn’t expected this to go so smoothly. What I’d anticipated had been hurt—wrought with rage over supposed infidelity that existed in a time and place where bonds had seemingly been broken upon our last departure. Instead, what I found was the opposite. The fact that he was so willing, let alone ready to talk about this in such a matter blew my mind, to the point where I almost didn’t believe him when he gestured me into the living room and settled down on one end of the expansive couch.
“So,” he said. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Whether or not we’re still a thing.”
“I think we made it pretty clear that we were broken up the last time we were together,” he said, sipping his water before setting it down on the end table beside him. “At least, from the way you responded it was.”
