Eromenos

by Theda Black

  EROMENOS

  Theda Black

  To CM, who helped build it

  Prologue

  A GLOWING HAZE of sky and clouds hovered above the mountain slopes. Below in the meadows, wild turkeys pecked through the grasses. Crows cawed and scoured for food, feathers like black mirrors in the afternoon light.

  The sun lowered, day merging into dusk. Deer grazed the shaded woods, and foxes hunted for prey. The haze above deepened to pink and purple, then midnight blue, thinning and breaking apart.

  The moon rose, cool white. The stars twinkled to life, a crown stretching across the dark sky, brightening as night settled in.

  Time wore on, the sun rising over the calm of night. Faster, rushing, flashing over the land, dying again in an explosion of darkness, constellations of heroes and warriors re-enacting their glory across the backdrop of endless sky. Day turned to night turned to day.

  The god watched as the seasons changed. He was god, beast and devil, rarely worshiped and barely feared in the new age: Pan, Baphomet and cambion, vestiges coalescing into one. He drew strength from the life around him–from the animals creeping, walking, dying; from the people who settled into the mountains and valleys. Their lives glowed bright, then winked and dimmed, dying beneath the constellations.

  Always, more came to replace them, filling the empty spaces.

  A small group of people settled a strip of land between twin rocky rises, peaks slicing into the clouds. As the generations passed, the village grew slowly, clinging to the rising mountains on either side, isolated from the teeming cities and towns sprawled below.

  The god willed Twin Wolves to awaken to the old ones, as in the ancient days. In their isolation, the people accepted his presence. They prayed to Agreus, son of Hermes and a highland prophetess; to Baphomet, goat deity and Satanic avatar; to cambion, child of man and demon. The village built secret altars of worship and left gifts as befitted the god.

  The god awarded them with robustness of harvest and home, children and health. In return, he asked for a child of each generation, that he might walk the land in their flesh, possessing in lust and rut and ruin.

  But the day came when the sacrifice to the god was refused, and the chosen one spirited away from the mountains.

  For the first time, the god was conscious of the passing days, envisioning his own demise. He called out through dreams, searching for the boy.

  The chosen one saw visions of mountains on either side of a valley, like two wolves at heel, noses pointed at the sky. He saw shadows of people he’d never known. He heard tree boughs creaking with the wind; breathed the sharp spice of pine trees and sweet cinnamon fern. But he never remembered the dreams.

  Instead, instinctively, he seized upon the push-beat of another’s pulse, someone who roamed close, warm and protective. All he had to do was surrender, let the presence loose inside and sink in.

  Shielded from the god, the chosen one grew into a man. But the god put all his will to the task, refusing to give up, summoning the chosen one again and again.

  Until, one day, there was an answer.

  1

  HARVEY GILPATRICK BOMBED his topology midterm in spectacular fashion, eyes glazing over the simplest question, tense fingers snapping the pencil in his grip.

  Afterward, he walked through the line at the cafeteria for dinner, filling his plate. He ate methodically, speaking to no one, shoveling food into his mouth until the plate was clean. He drained his cup and wiped his mouth neatly.

  Shoving his tray aside, Harvey fished inside the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small instrument made of wooden pipes.

  Airy notes rose above the buzz of conversation. The cafeteria quieted as the music grew louder.

  One of the pipes was cracked—the music broke every time Harvey blew on it. He flung the instrument to the floor, climbed onto the lunch table, and began singing the alphabet in one long stream, voice off-key and hollow in the high-ceilinged room.

  Laughter peppered the room here and there, but most of the students only watched him, eyes flickering left and right to see how everyone else reacted.

  Harvey climbed off the table and stretched out on the cafeteria floor. He raised his head and slammed it onto the marble floor. The dull thump made some of the students jump and wince. Someone gasped. Harvey bashed the back of his head into the floor over and over, mumbling about topological spaces and the endowments of x.

  An ambulance took him away. It was his third year of college, and he didn’t come back.

  2

  SETH MAYFAIR COULDN’T stand his roommate, and his roommate couldn’t stand him. If the college didn’t approve his room transfer soon, Seth swore he’d camp out on a park bench. Luckily that turned out to be unnecessary.

  The week after Harvey snapped and left for good, Seth inherited his old room and his old roommate. Moving was easy—he’d already packed and was living out of packing boxes and suitcases.

  He had a class on Friday morning. After it was over, he headed back to his dorm, housed in an eleven-storied brick and stone building. The new room was in the same building, on the opposite side and on a higher floor. He rode the elevator up, box in his arms and suitcases dangling from each hand. He fumbled, nearly dropping the box of clothes outside the door. Someone flung it open and grabbed the suitcases.

  “Thanks,” Seth said, just as the bottom popped out of the stupid box, clothes plopping onto the floor.

  The guy, presumably his new roommate, put the cases on the unused bed and walked back to the door. He was well over six feet tall, with dark hair that flopped over his brow and warm hazel eyes. He gave Seth a brilliant, somewhat shy smile.

  It damn near leveled Seth, and would pretty much every time thereafter. He gave up on the box and stuck out his hand. “Seth.”

  “Xander,” his new roommate said. “I’ve got a class, but it’s good to meet you. See you later today?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  The dorm room was a lot smaller than the one he’d left—a bed and a desk on each side of the room along with a mini-fridge, small TV, worn chair and a microwave. Thankfully, there was also a tiny bathroom and shower. Seth really didn’t love the idea of a communal bathroom.

  By late afternoon, Seth was mostly settled. He finished trying to cram a few groceries into the tiny refrigerator and relaxed on his new bed.

  Xander rushed in after track practice, in a great hurry to get somewhere else. “Hey. Finished moving in?” Xander yanked his sweat-stained shirt over his head, long arm muscles flexing and hair flying all over, layers beneath dark with sweat and clinging to his neck.

  “Yeah,” Seth murmured, sitting up quickly. He tried not to look Xander up and down and pretty much failed. Xander’s skin gleamed, chest rising and falling. Jesus was he was ripped, wide shoulders, small waist. He looked—

  Seth did his best to put the brakes on that particular train of thought. He didn’t need the complication of being attracted to a roommate.

  Too late. Xander looked hotter than hell.

  “Sorry I couldn’t help with the move. I’m heading out again. Plans.” Xander grinned.

  “Plans,” Seth echoed, doing his best to keep his gaze at eye level.

  At least Xander hadn’t stripped in front of Seth completely. He’d rushed into the bathroom with his jock still on.

  Which hid so, so much.

  Seth rolled on his belly and groaned. In the bathroom, the shower began to run.

  That night, Seth turned in early, tired from the move. He awakened sometime after midnight. Panting sounds came from his roommate’s bed.

  Great. First there was naked Xander (or close enough) this afternoon. He guessed it made sense that his first night in the new room would feature Xander beating off.

  Seth pulled
the pillow over his ears. No use.

  In the darkness, he gritted his teeth, wishing his dick would listen to his brain for once and calm the fuck down. Like right now. Please.

  His dick refused.

  Seth squeezed his eyes tightly together, willing, no, commanding the hard-on from hell to lie down and heel. And maybe, just maybe, his willpower was a thing of wonder, because his dick began to cooperate.

  Then Xander made another, louder sound, gasp and low moan mixed up together. All of Seth’s half-formed, self-congratulatory thoughts extinguished faster than the flame of a candle pinched between fingertips.

  He took matters into his own hands, but quietly. Unlike an overly tall, self-absorbed roommate who apparently could give a shit if Seth might or might not be listening to him spank the monkey or what it might make him want.

  The problem was, it wasn’t an isolated incident.

  3

  SETH LAY ON the bed, arm crooked underneath his head, listening to his mom talk. She called every Thursday night. Mom said she wasn’t stupid enough to try him on the weekends, when obviously his social life threatened the boundaries of space and time. Or something like that.

  Seth recognized the wishful thinking, knew that in mom-speak “social life” translated to “girls,” and he sighed in irritation whenever she said it. It drove him nuts because they both knew he and girls didn’t mix, at least not in the sense she wished.

  Xander opened the door and threw a load of books down, papers flying out and slipping over the floor like the messy hurricane he was. He nodded at Seth and fished a book out from the pile. Flopping down on the bed, he began to read.

  Seth nodded back at him. In his ear, Mom went on about how she and Seth’s dad were trying to wiggle their way out of a dinner invite at a neighbor’s house. The neighbor was a terrible cook.

  Seth’s mind wandered. He’d come out to his parents at fifteen, after a two-month relationship with a girl named Angie. She was shy and smart and pretty, had long red hair and white skin. He kissed her and even made out with her, and it was fine, like macaroni for lunch was fine or a hike up a local mountain trail when he was bored. Angie deserved much better.

  His father had been silent at the news. He’d rubbed his eyes and put his head in his hands, briefly, before he’d sighed and nodded at Seth. His dad talked sports and business, not personal stuff. He was a residential land developer, which took up much of his enthusiasm and time.

  Seth’s mother had been silent, too. He’d taken the silence for acceptance. He was wrong. It might have been shock. Probably denial, though.

  Xander watched Seth, throwing him an absent smile once when Seth caught him looking. Seth wasn’t fooled. Xander was listening to the phone conversation.

  Seth hung up soon afterward, glaring at Xander. “Nosy shit.”

  Xander made a show of appearing interrupted. “Hey, I’m studying. You’re the one distracting me with fascinating conversation. How’s your mom’s sciatica?”

  “About the same. Dad’s blood pressure is worrying her, though, and oh yeah, she thinks the fifty-year-old lady who lives in the next house down is trying to come on to him. Luckily her cooking sucks, so she’s no threat.”

  Xander rolled his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

  “Yeah, so why listen? Freak.” Seth pulled the pillow out from under his head and threw it.

  “All that mother and son bonding really moves me.” Xander’s voice was muffled by the pillow.

  “I bet. Why don’t I ever hear you talk to your parents, spy-boy?”

  Xander pulled the pillow from his face. “I don’t remember my dad. He died when I was little. Mom drank a lot. After she died, I was raised in foster homes.”

  “Damn.” Seth stared at him, thinking about not having parents and what it would feel like to have no home or family.

  Xander threw the pillow back at him. “It was a long time ago. Don’t go getting all soulful and sympathetic. I hate it when you cry.”

  “You’ve never seen me cry, asshole. How’re you paying for school?”

  “Kind of nosy yourself, aren’t you? I pay for it like everybody else whose parents don’t foot the bill. Sell my body, man. And you cry every time I go out, don’t you?” Xander said. Seth jerked, startled, but Xander was oblivious, continuing, “Pining away, wishing you had just half of the sex I have.” He cocked his head, considering Seth. “A quarter.”

  “Fuck you,” Seth managed, then realized he’d only put his foot in deeper. He flushed, heart thumping uncomfortably in his chest.

  “An eighth, maybe. Jealous, all right.” Xander grinned.

  Seth wapped him in the face with the pillow again. By the time Xander whipped the pillow back at him, Seth had managed to make his expression normal. “I’m not pining over anything you do, say, or screw. Now shut up so I can study.”

  “I’m studying,” Xander protested.

  “Sure you are. Your book’s upside down.” Seth grinned when Xander turned his book over without looking. “Now it’s upside down, fool.”

  “Testing you, see. Hey, how about we get a pizza delivered? I’ll buy.” Xander’s cell buzzed. He sat up and looked at the screen, smile disappearing. He swiped at the screen, dismissing it.

  “You ate already. We both did.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “I don’t have one. Of course I want pizza. What’re you putting on it?”

  Xander looked insulted. “Everything but the kitchen sink, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Xander’s phone buzzed once more.

  “Did you break somebody’s heart again?”

  “You overestimate my powers. Or do you?” Xander’s mouth tightened, belying the joking tone. He looked at the phone. “Shit.” He muttered something—Seth thought it was something about 'it' being mutual.

  “What is?”

  “Hm?” Still looking at the screen.

  “You okay?”

  “Sure, yeah. Right as rain, Dr. Feelgood. Order the pizza, will you? I’ll pay when it gets here.” Xander stepped out into the hall.

  Seth had the pizza place on speed dial and ordered a large with every-meat-in-existence. He hung up, Xander’s voice growing louder out in the hall. Seth wondered what the hell was going on. He tried to concentrate on his textbook.

  Xander stepped back inside.

  “I ordered the pizza. Half hour, they said.” Seth wanted to ask what was going on. Heroically, he did not.

  “Okay. What are you studying?”

  “Psych.” After another minute Seth looked up again. Xander walked aimlessly up and down the small room. “Will you sit down already?”

  “Are you…dating anybody?”

  “You interested?” Seth snapped, a little impatient. He was getting zero study time.

  “Since you asked….” Xander wiggled his eyebrows.

  Seth snapped the book shut and gave in to curiosity. “Is there a problem with someone you’re dating?”

  Xander threw himself back down on the bed. He heaved a sigh. “Naw, it’s nothing. Nothing worth talking about, anyway. Seriously,” he added when Seth looked at him pointedly. He gestured at Seth’s textbook. “Read your psych.”

  Seth opened his book again. He tried to study, he really did, but Xander’s phone buzzed over and over. Seth was ready to snatch the damn cell and throw it out the window. He didn’t open his mouth, though. Something was obviously wrong.

  Xander stepped into the hall again. When he returned, he avoided Seth’s eyes. Soon after the pizza arrived, he left the dorm, paying for it but not eating, waving off Seth’s protest. He still wasn’t home by the time Seth fell asleep.

  4

  XANDER’S TRACK-MATE, Dave, swung by Saturday afternoon to pick Xander up for a get-together at a campus park. Seth thought Dave looked somehow exotic, despite the blond hair and blue eyes—something about his icy gaze and thin, elegant lips. He almost matched Xander’s ridiculous height.

  “Want to go with u
s?” Dave settled on the end of Seth’s bed and winked. “We’re playing football. I might let you on my team, assuming you don’t suck.”

  “Did he just wink at me?” Slouched on top of the bedspread, Seth wiggled his sock-feet for emphasis.

  “Captain Obvious strikes again.” Xander was pale, out of sorts. Whatever drama he was embroiled in hadn’t appeared to improve, but he wouldn’t say a word about it. “Dave loves all of mankind and all of womankind, so watch your ass. Are you coming or not?”

  “Watch my ass?” Seth glanced at Dave, who grinned. Seth kicked at Dave’s hip. “What’s gonna happen to it? Is he warning me about you?”

  “You’re not that quick, are you?” Dave asked, and Xander grinned, too.

  “Maybe I don’t want to be on your loser team,” Seth grumbled.

  “How sad for you. And me, because that means you’ll be on my team instead.” Xander gestured at him to get up. “Hurry up.”

  “Did you get shorter or something?” Seth yawned in Xander’s direction, reaching for shoes on the floor.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your friend is nearly as tall as you are, freak.”

  “Everyone seems diminished when they stand beside me,” Dave clarified.

  “Of course they do.” Seth stood. “I need coffee.”

  “No time, lazy ass,” said Xander. “Let’s go.”

  They locked up and took the stairs at the end of the hall instead of waiting for the elevator.

  Outside, the air was amazingly warm, as if not understanding what February was supposed to feel like. Sunshine blazed and softened the chill ground, and the breeze was freshening and pleasant.

  Dave drove a shit-green Jeep, and he drove it in a great hurry. Seth held on in the back seat, trying not to squawk as Dave rounded a curve fast enough to put them in danger of the vehicle rolling. The other, obviously suicidal guys didn’t even seem to notice.

  In minutes Dave had sailed the Jeep into a graveled lot, parking with a jolt. Two vehicles pulled up on either side. More cars turned into the lot behind them.