Kylian and Brett

by Edward Kendrick

  That turned into an impromptu farewell party that lasted well into the evening. When his friends finally left, Brett crashed on a pair of blankets he laid out the floor of the now empty apartment. He woke around eight the following morning, took a quick shower and got dressed, then put the towel and washcloth in one plastic bag and the clothes he’d worn the previous day in another one.

  Then he took off, heading for his new home and a very new and different life.

  * * * *

  While Brett was in New Orleans, Kylian was having second thoughts about asking the human to join the organization. Not that he didn’t believe what he’d told Brett—that he’d be a good addition to the team. That was the truth.

  The problem was that, much to his horror, he was starting to find Brett interesting on a much more personal level. Not that I’ll ever tell him, or act on it. He is, after all, human, and for all I know not the least bit interested in men.

  “So he admitted he’s had a couple of dreams about me. He said they were probably the result of finding out paranormals exist.” He chuckled wryly. “And, apparently, I was on the losing end of fights with the Slayer. At least he got that wrong, but what does it mean that he thought I would lose?”

  Kylian was not about to dwell on that idea. He pushed any thoughts of Brett as a man to the back of his mind—or tried to. That didn’t stop him from looking forward with anticipation to Brett’s return to Denver. In the interim he spent his time running his travel business while keeping tabs on what was going on in the paranormal world, looking for any indications of trouble that he and his team would have to deal with. So far, since the Slayer’s demise, things seemed to be calm. That, he knew, could change at any time.

  * * * *

  It was close to noon of the day after he’d left New Orleans when Brett arrived on the outskirts of Denver. He’d stopped at a motel the previous evening, rather than pushing to get there faster, which would have resulted in his making it to the city well after midnight.

  Pulling into a lot outside a strip mall, he called Kylian to let him know he’d arrived.

  “I presume you’re going straight to your place,” Kylian said.

  “Yeah. I have a truck full of…damn, way too much. If I don’t start unloading it now, I might decide it’s too much bother,” Brett replied with a laugh.

  “Is that a hint you could use some help?”

  “If you’re offering.”

  “I am, and I’ll bring along a couple of the team as well, since they live here.”

  “Thank you!”

  “No problem. How long until you get to your place?”

  “Twenty minutes, maybe?”

  “We’ll see you there.”

  After hanging up, Brett sighed with relief. During the drive to Denver he’d been wondering if Kylian might have second thoughts about bringing him into the organization—or more, about suggesting that he move to Denver. It’s not like he or one of the shifters couldn’t come and get me when they needed my particular skills. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t help worrying, any more than he could help the anticipation he felt at the thought of seeing Kylian again. I can’t let him know, however, he reminded himself as he put up the shield to keep Kylian out of his mind.

  * * * *

  Kylian waved when Brett pulled into the parking lot next to the building. Brett saluted, driving to the far end by the back door. As he got out of the truck, Kylian came over, followed by two tall, muscular men. Brett immediately wondered if they were shifters. They were, Kylian told him, while introducing them as Gid—”He’s a wolf shifter”—and Orson who was a bear shifter. Brett could believe that about Orson. At six-six or better and built like a WWF wrestler, he made Brett look small.

  “Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Orson said in a growly voice.

  “Or more like off the road,” Gid replied with a grin. “How was the drive?”

  “Long, but not too bad if you don’t count the holdups for accidents,” Brett told him. “Some people need to lean to drive, or stay off the highway.”

  “No kidding.”

  It took them less than half the time unloading the truck as it had for Brett and his friends to load it. But then it was shifters doing the major hauling this time—or in point of fact, teleporting most of the furniture from the interior of the truck to Brett’s apartment, while he and Kylian took the lighter items up via the service elevator.

  Between the four of them, they got the furniture in place and the boxes in the areas where they needed to be so that Brett could unpack them later.

  “Looking good,” Gid proclaimed when they finished. “When’s the housewarming party?”

  “Umm…good question,” Brett replied, chuckling. “Let me get settled then I’ll decide.”

  “Meaning never.” Orson winked at Gid.

  Brett laughed. “Maybe?”

  “Well, you can’t get settled in with us hanging around,” Gid said.

  “Thanks for helping,” Brett replied. “All of you. It’s much appreciated.”

  “No problem. You’re part of the team now, so helping was a given,” Orson told him before he and Gid vanished.

  “Are you leaving, too?” Brett asked Kylian, hoping he wouldn’t.

  Kylian shrugged, studying Brett as he replied, “Do you want me to? I can stick around and help you empty boxes, or something.”

  “That would be great.”

  “You’re blocking,” Kylian stated with a small smile. “You have been since you got here this morning. How did you figure out how to do it?”

  “Google is my friend,” Brett told him. “Believe it or not, there are several sites with suggestions on how.”

  “I believe,” Kylian replied dryly. “You don’t have to, you know. I promise not to pry.”

  “I needed the practice and this was the first chance I’ve had to find out if my shield works.”

  “Believe me, it does.”

  “Meaning you tried to read me.”

  Kylian nodded. “Only to find out if you really were glad to be here, or wishing you’d changed your mind and stayed in New Orleans.”

  “To be honest, I debated that a couple of times, and came to the conclusion that I had nothing to lose by moving, and a lot to gain.”

  Kylian smiled slowly—which made Brett wonder why, although he wasn’t going to try to read him. “I was hoping you’d feel that way,” Kylian said. He glanced at the kitchen area, and the boxes sitting on the counters. “Okay. To quote Orson, let’s get this show on the road.”

  It wasn’t long before all the kitchen items were stored, or sitting on the counters in the case of small appliances. Then they put away all the linens and Brett made his bed in the loft above the kitchen, before they tackled his books, which filled the three bookcases in the living room.

  “You’re an eclectic reader,” Kylian commented, standing back to look at the shelves when they finished.

  “It’s my release when I need to take a break from painting,” Brett replied as he went into his studio, shaking his head at the number of boxes which needed emptying in there.

  “You want to tackle them now?” Kylian asked from beside him.

  “Not really.” Brett turned to look at him and found he was being scrutinized with some amusement by the elf. “What I want is food, but that requires shopping and I don’t have the energy right now.”

  “There are these places called restaurants,” Kylian replied. “I hear they specialize in feeding the hungry.”

  Brett grinned. “Now there’s an idea. Care to join me? You undoubtedly know the best ones in the area.”

  “Of course. Down and dirty or fancy?”

  Brett looked down at what he was wearing. “Not fancy. I don’t have the energy or inclination to change clothes.”

  “And I’m not going home to change, so down and dirty it is. Come on. We’ll walk.”

  They did. Brett checked out the neighborhood along the way, spotting a couple of galleries and cra
fts shops which he decided to visit the following day. They ended up in a busy bar slash burger place which also served “real food,” as Kylian put it.

  “Burgers are real food,” Brett replied, following the host up to the balcony overlooking the main floor. “I wonder if they have mead.” He winked at Kylian.

  “Smart ass,” Kylian muttered.

  They perused their menus then ordered when the waitress arrived—a bison burger with everything for Brett, glazed salmon for Kylian, beer for both of them.

  “Don’t you eat meat?” Brett asked when the waitress left.

  “I do, but I’m in the mood for fish tonight.” Kylian smiled, leaning in to whisper, “Did you think elves were vegetarians? We’re not. We eat meat, fish, you name it. If it tastes good we’ll eat it, just like humans.” He chortled. “I might not have been around when all we had was bows and arrows, but they weren’t only used for fighting.”

  “Okay, I get the picture. I guess I’ve still got a lot to learn about you.” I’d like to learn everything about him, like what he looks like in the nude. Brett quickly put that thought on hold. Not happening, I’m sure. We’re too different, in too many ways.

  “You’re not shielding,” Kylian murmured.

  “I am,” Brett replied before discovering Kylian was right. As tired as he was after a long, exhausting day, his shield had come down without him realizing it. “Oh, shit!”

  Kylian nodded. “I wasn’t prying. I promised I wouldn’t. But your last thought came through loud and clear.” He leaned back, studying Brett. “We are different. I suspect it’s the reason you debated moving out here, the same as I was wondering if my asking you to was my smartest move. If I’m not mistaken, you’re attracted to me as a man.”

  “If I say I am, will it matter?”

  “Honesty, I don’t know. I find you very interesting. Not only because of your telepathic skill, which combined with your artistic abilities will be very useful to us. Would it be in my best interests to explore what I now know is a mutual attraction? Debatable.”

  “Because in the end, if we did, I’d age and die while you continued to look exactly as you do now, and live on?”

  “Precisely. It’s the reason I’ve never allowed myself to become involved with a—” Kylian suddenly went quiet because the waitress arrived at that moment with their meals.

  With a human, so there’s no way he’ll let anything happen between us. Brett had brought up his shield again, so he could think without fearing Kylian would overhear.

  “If this tastes as good as it looks,” Kylian said, obviously relieved at the interruption.

  “Better,” the waitress replied with a grin. “Do you want another beer?”

  “No thanks. I’ll take coffee instead,” Kylian replied, glancing at Brett.

  “Coffee for me, too, please,” Brett said, even thought he’d barely touched his beer.

  They ate silently, occasionally glancing at each other. From the look on Kylian’s face, Brett had the feeling he was regretting having said anything about his possible feelings. If I hadn’t dropped my shield, it would be a non-issue. He sighed, taking the last bite of his burger. I’m going to have to stay well away from him except when he needs my help with something. Not an idea he liked, but he knew it would be for the best.

  The walk back to Brett’s place after dinner seemed to take forever in his opinion. They did make comments about some of the shops and people they passed, but that did nothing to defuse the underlying tension between them.

  * * * *

  When they got to the entrance to the building, Kylian said, “I’ll call you.”

  “When you need my help,” Brett replied dryly.

  “Yes.” Kylian paused. “I am glad you moved out here.”

  “Because it’ll make things easier, when you do need me?”

  “Exactly.” And not the way he wishes I would. That can’t happen. I can’t let it happen; despite the fact I know we’re interested in each other on a personal level. It wouldn’t be fair to him. He smiled wryly. Or, selfishly, to me. At the most it would be a brief affair before one of us decided we have no future together, damn it. He walked away, saying “Good night” over his shoulder.

  When he got to the corner of the building by the parking lot, he looked back. Brett was still standing there, watching him with a sad, wistful expression. The moment he realized Kylian had seen him, he turned and entered the building.

  “He’s human. Remember that,” Kylian said under his breath. He knew it shouldn’t matter. After all, his brother was the result of the union of an elf and a human, as was Emile’s wife. Humans and elves could fall in love and make it work. Would I be willing to try? Would he, once he really thought about it? He shook his head, continued on to his car, and went home, vowing to stay away from Brett except when he required him as part of the team to stop a rogue supernatural.

  Chapter 7

  Brett spent his first morning in the city unpacking his studio supplies and setting things up to his satisfaction. Then he went grocery shopping, returning home overloaded with food and necessities. As he made a second trip up, with one too many bags in hand, and his protesting muscles let him know they weren’t happy, he wished he knew how to get hold of Orson or Gid. They’d make quick work of this. Of course, thinking of them brought thoughts of Kylian. Not that he hadn’t been on Brett’s mind from the moment he woke up.

  “Not happening. Never will,” he muttered as he began putting everything away after a third trip down to the car to get the last of his purchases. “I’ll have to deal with my feelings and hope they disappear before I see him again. As if, but I’ll act like they have.”

  After making a sandwich—which he ate while he went online to make a list of nearby art galleries—he headed out.

  “Mr. Wescott, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” said the owner of the first gallery Brett visited. “Please allow me to show you around. Are you visiting Denver or have you moved here?” From there, the man tried fairly subtly to convince Brett to allow him to show his paintings.

  It was virtually the same with the owners of two more downtown galleries and three in an arts district only a few miles away. If I were egotistical, my head would be swollen by now. That thought—on his way home—made him chuckle. If the various men, and one woman, had their ways, he could have his artwork flooding the city. Not that it was his aim to let that happen. He planned to continue doing commissioned portraits again, the same as he had in New Orleans, after choosing one gallery to show his other work.

  Gaining clients meant he would need publicity. He called a reporter he knew in New Orleans. He gave him the name of one of the art columnists who wrote for the Post. Brett got in touch with her and she immediately and enthusiastically set up an interview with him at his studio. The following Sunday there was a half-page article about him on the third page of the Life and Culture section of the paper. Two days later, he had his first commission.

  In the interim, he had chosen a gallery for his paintings, both portraiture and otherwise. After signing a contract, Brett had chosen four pieces to show, dropping them by the gallery. With that done, he spent the next few days wandering the city, doing sketches of various buildings and people.

  What he had in mind was a new series of paintings delineating the city and its residents, done in combination of realism with a sharp edge of the surreal. Paintings of the denizens of the city, both human and otherwise. Those that were more than human would be well hidden behind the trappings of normal civilization, their other-worldliness only hinted at but discernable to anyone who looked beyond the basics of the painting to see what was in its depths.

  “Am I being trite?” he wondered aloud as he sat on a low wall in front of a downtown patio, drawing two men in animated conversation across the street. More to the point; am I using this as a way to exorcize my feelings for Kylian by showing that supernatural beings do exist, but that they can never live freely side-by-side with those who are merely human—like me?r />
  Not quite the truth in his case. He did know there were non-humans, and that they accepted that he knew about them. But accepting him and letting him fully into their lives were two different things. Kylian will never allow that to happen, no matter what he might say to the contrary, in the heat of the moment. Why the hell did I allow him to convince me to join his team and move out here? I was very happy with my life the way it was before I met him.

  Snapping his sketchpad closed, Brett walked swiftly down the street, heading home. When he got there, he immediately went into his studio, prepared a fresh canvas, and began limning out his idea for the first painting, pouring all his concentration into what he was doing, forcing all other thoughts from his mind.

  * * * *

  “We have a new problem,” Gid said, walking into Kylian’s office.

  It was a month after Kylian had returned from New Orleans, and all had been calm, not to say boring, in his estimation. If there were rogues out there, and that was a given, they weren’t targeting humans to kill. It was so calm in fact, that he hadn’t had any reason to get in contact with Brett. Or no legitimate reason, which was all he’d let happen. As much as he could, he did as he’d vowed he would and kept whatever personal feelings he had for the human tightly stored away in the back of his mind. On the whole, it had worked.

  “What kind of problem,” Kylian asked when Gid was seated across from him.

  “This.” Gid handed him a newspaper, with an article circled.

  Kylian read it, immediately seeing what Gid meant. “Spontaneous human combustion? Twice within a week’s time, in the same city?” he said when he’d finished reading.

  Gid nodded. “That’s the only thing the authorities can figure. Both men were found sitting in their living rooms, burned to death. Nothing was touched by the fire except their bodies and the chairs. The chairs were only partially incinerated. Of course,” he added, “the paper reporting this is a supermarket tabloid, but what if there’s something more behind the story than a reporter’s overactive imagination? He did interview a couple of the responding police officers in the course of pursuing the stories.”