by VK Fox
“The doses are larger, too. Are you building tolerance? What is this, anyway?”
He’d been a self-destructive mess when Olive was done with him, and he’d only dated her for a few months. It was the kind of first experience that made you doubt your worth to the core of your being. Everest tried to keep his lungs working. That was him. That was his baggage. Dahl didn’t seem to feel the same way.
“Dahl, you need to talk to Olive.”
A shadow settled on Dahl’s face. “Sounds ominous. Should I call her?”
“No, you should go in person.” Everest retrieved the keys from a dish on the side table. “You can take my car.”
Chapter Nineteen
Last March - Two Months Ago
Window moonlight painted Olive nude. Dahl wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon, but he couldn’t argue with the view. His eyes wandered over the shape of her ears, delicate and slightly pointed, like she wasn’t fully human. She’d kicked the covers off, goosebumps rising on her arms, her nipples firm. In the bright, pale light her skin was rich and dark, sparkling with piercings.
The whole insane evening was lurking in the back of Dahl’s mind, and when he pulled at the tangle, it snarled back. Why had Everest lost his shit and sent him to Olive’s apartment without speaking more than a dozen words? If he had a problem, why couldn’t they talk about it? Dahl was ready to talk.
The weird third wheel to the whole experience was suspiciously silent. Honorable, faithful Dahl—champion for monogamy—had shared a heated moment with a man who he would have happily pushed into traffic four months prior. There were so many factors that, any day of the week, Mordred would be using to tear him down. Mordred couldn’t see his thoughts, but he could see everything else. He was lurking in the mental shadows when Everest had been dozing and Dahl had absently touched him. Mordred had been conscious when Everest had reached for him and the testosterone had spiked. Mordred had realized Dahl’s body was ready to go and he’d gotten up not because he was thirsty, but to walk it off.
Oh, and then Everest had had a panic attack and pushed him out the door. Fucking great. Thank God Mordred couldn’t read his heart—he’d piss himself laughing. He was probably wallowing in ecstasy; they liked the same guy. How in the actual fuck had that happened? Dahl shuddered. Maybe going off his meds wasn’t a strategic play. Not all feelings were his allies. If he was still in a lithium haze, he might not have made stupid emotional choices.
Rolling to his side, Dahl pressed against Olive, sharing warmth. He lay a scarred arm across her hips, wrist down. Liv stirred and rolled towards him, opening her dark eyes. Her brows puckered. “Boy, are you crying?” He loved it when she called him boy.
“Well, shit, now you have blackmail material.” He resisted the urge to wipe the tears away. She’d caught him—hiding the evidence would be childish. “I’ll expect your list of demands.”
“Hmmmmm…” Her mouth quirked at the corner as she latched onto the idea of the game. “I think I’ll use it to extort more secrets.”
“That’s like wishing for more wishes. Against the rules.”
“‘Scuse me, I’m the one with the damning information, I’ll tell you what the rules are, thank you.”
“I stand corrected.” Dahl pulled her closer. March nights were chilly, so it seemed natural, not clingy.
“Who are the tears for?”
“I don’t get easy, warm-up questions?”
“This is blackmail, boy. I only have so many before you tire of living your life under the threat of public shame and out yourself. I can’t waste them.”
Dahl sighed, “I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“Me.”
“You never cry for yourself. Try again.” Dahl fiddled with his tongue stud and held her. She squirmed, and he forced his embrace to relax.
“Lovecraft.”
Olive laughed, “Are you shitting me?”
He shouldn’t have said it. What was he thinking? He closed his eyes and struggled to let it go: relaxing his toes, his feet, his legs, moving up his body. Deep breaths helped the shame pass. “Is that question number two? You only get three you know.” He had to cap it before it got out of control. Three was a nice, round, small number.
Liv rolled her eyes, “No, that was rhetorical. My second question is, why are you shedding your sweet tears for Everest Lovecraft?”
What could he even say? Fuck it, “We’ve grown close. I guess S.A. knew what they were doing for once. We have a lot in common, and our interests complement each other. He feels things deeply—it’s easy to get swept up in his current. You dated him, so I guess you know?”
“Again, you have no questions, and I think ‘I told you so’s’ are in order?” She grinned like Solstice came early, bright eyes and a mischievous mouth.
“Let’s speak plainly. Please.”
Liv giggled and draped a leg over him, “Oh, now you want to speak plainly? This is the threesome pitch, is it not?”
Dahl swallowed. This was going to be difficult, but it didn’t have to be mean. “Will you please listen? This is hard...”
Olive reached between his legs and made an exaggerated surprised face when she grabbed his erection. “So it is.” She was straddling his hips and starting to push, working him inside. She did this sometimes halfway through pillow talk, one of her various interrogation techniques. He tried to look blasé, but his performance wasn’t going to win any Oscars. “You’re pretty excited about this conversation.”
Dahl groaned and put his hands on her hips, pressing in, “You have a fascinating effect on a lot of topics.”
Olive laughed. God, he loved that sound. “Let’s talk about molecular geometry.”
“I didn’t realize how much I enjoy electrons.”
Her body was warm enough to melt the knot in his stomach. Her voice full of mirth, “Primitive survival.”
“Flint, fire, and foraging. Pretty much all you need to know.”
“Chaucer?
“I still fucking hate Chaucer.”
She laughed again, “You were supposed to be a rebound, you know.”
Dahl winced and missed a beat, “I know.” No one took a lover more than ten years their junior before their divorce was finalized for any other reason. He’d known it all along, so why did it sting to hear it?
Olive paused, bending over him to kiss his forehead. “I didn’t give you enough credit. The first time we talked about Lovecraft, I was sure the end was near. You’ve never been big on the whole open relationship idea and it felt… I don’t know. Like you were pushing me away.”
A hideous pressure stirred in Dahl’s skull, “What? What do you mean the first time I talked to you about him? When we were at the water tower?”
“No, before that.”
“When I told you about the S.A. order?”
Olive rolled her eyes, “No, before that, too. When you said I should go see him.”
Cold prickles were crawling over his skin, “What?”
Olive exhaled with a small grunt, rocking her hips, prompting him to move again, “Screw now. Talk later.”
Dahl held her still, “No, wait... I mean, something doesn’t make sense. What do you mean ‘when I said you should go see him?’ What are you talking about?”
Olive paused again and quirked an eyebrow, “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.” Dahl tried to disengage, but he was pinned, and he gave up after an unsuccessful attempt to sit. “Seriously.”
“Okay,” She stooped, studying his face, “I’m talking about the conversation where you told me to go see him. Right after Adam died? You thought he could use the support.”
“So, you went to talk with him?”
Olive laughed again, jitters coloring the sound. “No, of course not. I went to fuck him.”
Dahl lost his cool in a bare second. He shoved Olive off, none too gently. Olive and Everest had slept together. The idea hit him like a sledgehammer. Horribly detailed pictures of the two of th
em intimately entwined flooded his mind as he fought a wave of nausea. Everest had fucked his girlfriend and never said a thing about it. The creeping over his skin made it hard to focus. He had to focus, not overreact.
Olive was shouting a long string of curses at him and there were tears in her eyes. “...dare! If you EVER push me again, you asshole, I will beat you black and fucking blue-”
Dahl cut her off with superior volume, “Shut up! I told you to do this?”
“Yes, you moron! I even made you fucking repeat it to be sure we were clear. Twice!”
Mordred. This was Mordred. Dahl tasted blood. He had to regain control. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. So you slept with him, what, six months ago?”
Olive’s silence was worse than any words. A door was open in Dahl’s mind. Something dark was out of the cage. He groped for reality.
“So... not just... six months ago?”
Olive’s hands twisted, big brown eyes afraid, “Dahl, what’s wrong with your face?”
Shit, he had to get it under control, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” His best friend and his girlfriend were sleeping together. Then Everest had made a pass at him, hoping for a perfect fucking triangle. And he’d fallen for it. He’d fallen for both of them. How could he be so fucking stupid?
Something warm was dribbling down his chin. Olive was reaching for the phone, and his hand knocked her aside before he could stop it. A change was coming on. Not shapeshifting, but related. A dark aurora coalesced around his naked body and his mind drifted, like a waking dream. This wasn’t his magic.
“Stop.” Liv barked it like an order. He was so used to being her subordinate that part of him tried to obey. Tears were slipping over her cheeks and her nose was running. She held her arm where he’d hit her, “I get one more question.”
“Ask it fast.” They weren’t his words. Mordred was speaking through his lips. Submerged beneath the surface, he would never hear the last thing she said to him or how he responded. His ears were silent. His eyes went dark.
Chapter Twenty
Last March - Two Months Ago
Running was a relief. It helped regulate and lift Everest’s mood, but he forgot how much until he took a break and began again. The mild bite in the air kept him going under an overcast sky. Miles of paved, tree-lined path passed beneath his feet while he pushed himself farther.
When he’d prompted Dahl to speak with Olive the night before, he’d hoped he would hear something soon, and he knew he shouldn’t expect it. Life matched his expectations in the most depressing way: no call, no email, nothing. A small part of his mind informed him he could have avoided the majority of this mess if he’d bothered to ask Dahl about his girlfriend the first time they got together, but a larger part of him still didn’t want to acknowledge she was a factor.
But she was a titanic factor. Dahl must be incredibly hurt. Should Everest have told him instead of sending him to Olive? It didn’t seem like his place, as Olive’s relationship was of greater duration, but pushing it off made him a coward.
Mordred would have something to say about it. Mordred always had something to say. In the moment it hadn’t registered as a consideration, but now, waiting for the other shoe to drop, Everest could imagine he would have to suffer through a lot of commentary on this topic. Every wound would be well salted.
A young woman fell in and matched his pace with moderate effort. At his peak she wouldn’t have been able to keep up, but he had lost a lot of muscle. Her topknot bobbed over a stretchy green headband.
“Hey!” Her breathless, perky voice instantly prompted images of glitter nail polish and bubblegum-flavored lip gloss.
“Hello.” Conversation was a welcome distraction. He slowed slightly.
“This might sound weird,” the woman glanced at him from peacock green eyes offset by dark skin, “but can I see your tattoo?”
Everest laughed, “Of all the ways your statement could have concluded, that one was a small disappointment.”
“I’ll try something more fun next time.” She was keeping pace easily now, “But seriously, can I?”
“No. It’s forty degrees. Cute pick up, though.”
“Ohhhh… no. You’re a doll, but I’m not looking for a date.”
Everest slowed to a halt, “Alright, I assume an explanation is forthcoming.”
“Adam hired me. I’m supposed to check on you, and I was directed to identify you first.” The young woman reached for her pocket. For a minute Everest’s nerves jumped, but she retrieved only a tissue to blow her nose.
“Adam is dead.” Both pride and shame sandwiched the fact he could say so without breaking down.
“I know. I’m sorry. He hired me before he died. My name’s Megan.” She laid a conciliatory hand on Everest’s bicep. He tried to play the flinch off as a shift in stance. “Adam was a legend on my side of the street. You already know it, but he thought the world of you. If you’re Everest. Tattoo, please?”
“I take it you’re not from his church.”
She lay a hand to her heart, “Atheist.”
“Reenacting club?”
“I’m not actually sure what that is.”
“Narcotics Anonymous group.”
“Didn’t even know he had one.”
Everest could have opened his second sight and considered all the options, but the glow would cause a scene and nerves. Stripping… would also cause a scene and nerves, but without the extra helping of anxiety later. Megan scrutinized his shoulder and arm for a considerable amount of time, as if people matching his description were jogging this stretch of trail constantly, sporting counterfeit tentacle rabbit body art. Everest waved awkwardly to a young couple jogging in the opposite direction, their heads tracking back long past when they would normally have faced forward.
“Ok, cool!” Megan straightened and sniffed her wide nose one more time.
“What now?”
“Now I deliver the message: you need to come with me. I’m sorry, but you can’t stay in your old life any longer. There are dangerous people at work, and Adam set up a safety net so you could be moved if certain warning signs alerted us things were going south.” She delivered the news like a plate of cookies to a new neighbor— welcoming but awkward.
Everest narrowed his eyes, “That doesn’t even make sense. Can you start again from the beginning?”
Megan sniffed and adopted an intense, unblinking stare, like she could mentally force understanding upon him. “You knew Adam Shelley, right? Muscular guy, curly hair, mid-twenties.”
Everest busied himself zipping his sweatshirt, “Yes, of course I knew Adam.”
“Super!” Megan flexed her hands and squared up a little, “So you comprehend some of the things he took part in may have contributed adversely to his lifespan.”
Everest shivered absently and didn’t catch Megan’s bright eyes. She continued, “So Adam was a real great guy who was lucky enough to get a double dose of brains and common sense. He put a safety net in place when he saw the writing on the wall. Are you still following?”
“No.”
Megan did not grab his shoulders and shake him but mimed the action without contact and walked in a circle while taking a few dramatically deep breaths. Everest wished he’d brought his Glock. “Where’d I lose you?” Her voice was one click below shouting.
“What do you mean he saw the writing on the wall?”
“He knew time was short.”
Everest shook his head, “What? Adam died in the hospital,” He was starting to crumble again. He forced his unsteady voice to continue speaking, “from injuries sustained in the line of duty.”
“Did you ever wonder about that?”
Everest was silent. Adam had been on a mission in South America when he was injured. Radar images from intelligence aircraft released to Sana Baba through the CIA had depicted previously undiscovered Mesoamerican ruins hidden in the jungle. The mission had everyone excited. The last Everest heard was the site was Olmec in ori
gin and contained seven-foot giant basalt heads, chubby little ceremonial baby statues, and, most excitingly, pictograph writing on the walls. In their last conversation, Adam had told him with feverish anticipation it might be a story. They had no idea if it was linked or not yet, but the burning enthusiasm in his voice would dry any wet blanket. “Werejaguars.” He’d said in the tones of a child about to be handed a quart of ice cream and a spoon. “Olmecs believed babies born with Down syndrome were part divine, blessed of the Jaguar god. How cool would it be to have an agent who could change into a jaguar?” As always, when Adam was excited about something the conversation had ended with lots of “I love yous” and “I wish you were heres,” and for that Everest was unfathomably grateful.
The next day Adam had been injured on-site under unclear circumstances. The report had concluded that instability in the ruins caused a forty-foot fall through the ceiling of a subterranean cave. He’d been airlifted to a nearby medical facility and Everest was making plans to travel when word had come that Adam had stabilized and would be transported to Sana Baba’s east coast hospital the next day. When he’d arrived, the trip had not gone as well as projected, and he was unconscious. He never woke up. If someone had had it in for him and their initial attempt had failed, they’d probably made another during the airlift, at the hospital, or both.
Megan was grinding her teeth and still speaking, “...not processing the finer points of this discussion.” Her eyes sparkled, and her voice reinfused with perky, “Let’s go with this: you’re in danger. You need to come with me.”
Everest quarantined the emotional part of his mind and focused on Megan, “Can you tell me more about who you are? How were you acquainted with Adam?”
“Yes!” Megan bounced with fresh excitement. The fact this angle hadn’t occurred to her was concerning. Did telling people to leave everything behind and come with her usually work? “Adam and I were like-minded individuals.” Everest could maybe see that. Sort of. “You know what he was all about when it comes down to it?”
