Swordfall (The Fall Trilogy, #2)

by Devaux, Olivette

  “Thanks,” he whispered.

  “You look like a snowman. Tell me you didn’t bike in a nor’easter, okay?”

  He attempted a smile, but his effort died young.

  “Asbjorn.” She looked at him a bit closer, as though something wasn’t right. “Bjorn, come in, honey. Let me put up some hot chocolate. Did you walk?”

  “I biked.”

  She shook her head in disbelief, but instead of her customary grin, her brows were furrowed in concern. “So what’s wrong? You look like your dog got run over.” She helped him out of his sodden jacket and hung it over a heat register.

  “Sean....” His voice threatened to break. “Sean and I aren’t together anymore.”

  She came close, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Bjorn.... Oh Bjorn. Come, tell me what happened.”

  They settled on the sofa with their hot chocolate and a bag of supermarket cookies. Their silence was punctuated by the harsh rustling of the foil bag and their eating noises. The sounds of teeth crushing crisp sugar into dust felt raucous in his ears, and he was glad for any excuse that would delay the inevitable explanation. Speech did not come to him easily. He uttered a halting syllable, then two more, as though words had trouble leaving his mouth after three weeks of nigh-silence. Stillness threatened to settle over him again.

  “Go ahead, Asbjorn. Spill it.”

  Asbjorn suddenly felt transported to a time and place ten years ago. He was just a rowdy, out-of-control teenager back then, and where Tiger was the father figure he so sorely missed, Nell was the mother and friend who always made time for him and helped him talk things through, even though she was barely ten years his senior. Their relationship was about more than just karate. Tiger had done all the teaching back then, but Nell had always done most of the listening. His voice was just a thin whisper of pain as he began to speak.

  He told her everything.

  SEAN PUSHED ADRIAN away as suddenly as he had pulled him in. He felt the winter chill upon his skin as the freezing air breezed in through the open basement door. He turned away from Adrian and Don and took few steps, clutching the towel around his waist, only to slump against the breakfast bar. He gasped for breath.

  He bit his cheek, determined not to cry again. The original idea had been to take what was his, and balance would be restored. If Asbjorn got to enjoy their two friends, so would he, and he would lure his lover back to him at the same time. Never before had Sean thought of the act of sex in terms of a balance of power. Not until Asbjorn had dumped him few weeks ago. Not until Asbjorn turned his face away from him, leaving him humiliated, and rejected, and... alone.

  Now the checks and balances were the furthest thing from his mind. The very concept was petty. He recoiled when he realized the vague, ill-formed thinking behind his power play. As the granite counter dug into his chest, only the haunted and empty eyes of Asbjorn lingered in his mind. There would be no sweet languor, no relaxed embrace. Only bitter guilt remained, guilt over an effort that failed, an unfinished tactical maneuver that backfired, over a lover who was left wounded.

  Sean clenched his jaw. He straightened and looked at the two men with resolve. “Guys... I... I... just... thanks. This went to hell in a handbasket and it’s all my fault. I think... I think I better get dressed now.” He hiked up the towel around his hips again, and as though in a haze, he stumbled off to the bedroom.

  AS SEAN EXITED THE guest room fully dressed, he heard the rise and fall of halting conversation from the living room. He stopped on the thick carpet. With socks on his feet, he made no noise at all.

  “Well, that was totally unhealthy,” Adrian said with a weary sigh. His voice reflected off the ceiling and bounced back to Don. “I think we totally fucked it up this time around, and it wasn’t even our fault. Well, hooking up with Asbjorn might have been, sure, but....” Adrian rubbed his eyes as Don came closer to him and drew him into a close embrace.

  “Shh.... We’ll fix it somehow, love.”

  “I don’t know.” Adrian’s subdued voice drifted down the hall to Sean. “Sometimes... sometimes I think I am in the wrong profession, you know? Like, the harder I try to fix things, the worse they become. Have those two even talked yet?”

  Those two surely meant him and Asbjorn. Sean forced himself to remain still and shoved his hands into the pockets of his flannel-lined jeans. He was eavesdropping, and that wasn’t really nice. He knew that. It suddenly occurred to him, however, that he was missing something crucial. Something that others were aware of, something he should have known. He was sick and tired to be kept in the dark.

  Don broke the silence after some hesitation. “This isn’t something I wanted to discuss with Sean in the house. Don’t worry about it – they’ll talk. We’ll do all we can to make it happen.”

  “I didn’t expect Asbjorn to just bolt like that,” Adrian fretted. “Nothing happened – and I know it looked bad from the way he must have seen it, but still, he and Sean... had he walked in only a minute earlier, it would have been a perfect setup to get them to at least look at one another and question what the fuck they’re doing.”

  Sean bit his lip. He didn’t like the way this must have looked to Asbjorn, but now he didn’t like the way it looked to Adrian and Don either.

  “He’s in pain,” Don said, and Sean didn’t know whether Don was referring to him or to Asbjorn.

  “Yeah, I know. The thing is, it’s the kind of pain that gets better after talking about it, and I can’t help him if he keeps pushing people away.” Sean heard the scrape of bar stool against the tile floor in the kitchen. “I am just such a fuckup, Don. I can’t do anything right.” Adrian’s voice was muffled now, and then there was a whisper and a moan, and Don hushing Adrian up. It looked like Sean and Asbjorn weren’t the only ones in need of some TLC.

  Sean backed up, step by silent step, into the guest room and closed the door almost shut. He settled on the bed and waited. He thought he would wait for them to call him when they were done with their private moment. The silence was getting to him. His mind was on Asbjorn, on his stricken, wounded expression as he came inside. Sean’s breath shortened, his eyes teared up, and all he could feel was yearning and regret.

  THE SHOWER WAS THE most private place to indulge in a meltdown. It was enclosed, with two doors separating him from his hosts. Sean considered all this, and decided to yield to the onslaught of feelings, but only until the water ran cold. Two showers in one day wouldn’t kill him, but acting all polite and detached just might.

  Hot streams of water mingled with his tears, and the splashing of droplets almost covered the sound of his muffled his horribly embarrassing sobs.

  When the water cooled a bit, Sean knew he was done. His clean outside belied what the hot water failed to scour within. There was a chill within his soul, a cold and sad feeling that had lingered for days now. As he was putting on his clothes all over again, he reflected upon his ploy to recapturing Asbjorn’s attention.

  A disastrous failure. He longed for that feeling of warmth in his heart, that lazy smile that used to grace Asbjorn’s lips as they’d lain together, spent and satisfied. The small touches and whispers as they moved around each other in the kitchen while preparing dinner or in the bathroom while getting ready to face the day.

  Something had changed between them ever since that ill-fated hunting trip when Sean texted his marriage proposal to a man whose nature seemed to have gravitated toward the rougher end of the masculine spectrum. He had known Asbjorn was never much for fluffy displays. He should have known the Navy veteran wouldn’t want to be tied down to anyone, let alone a man six years younger than himself and not as worldly.

  A bad mistake.

  He’d live with that mistake forever. He’d managed to scare away the one and only person with whom he wanted to live and grow old, whose laughter meant the world to him. Asbjorn had lit up his life.

  Sunshine.

  How he missed being called that. He bit back a sigh and put on his calm face.


  Breathe in, breathe out.

  When he was dressed, he strode to the den where he had left his amber necklace. He always took it off before he showered, and he had placed it on Asbjorn’s books for safekeeping. Now, he may not have Asbjorn anymore, but he would cling to that fossilized piece of ancient sun. If he could only find him, talk to him....

  The finality of Asbjorn’s actions frightened him. Asbjorn hadn’t displayed the least of possessiveness – there was only hurt, and an empty, cold look in Asbjorn’s eyes.

  Sean searched the pile of magazines on the coffee table, the basket of remote controls.... He got down and peered under all the furniture. The conclusion was inescapable as he let out a howl of despair.

  His sun-disc was gone.

  THE WEEK PASSED IN a haze of activity. Asbjorn had never recalled having been this busy. There were classes to attend, meals to cook, Stella to babysit, and karate classes to teach. He was tempted to give up and crawl back inside his shell, but Dud would always look at him with his mournful eyes.

  “Come on, Asbjorn. I really need the extra hours. I need the overtime. I can’t do that and teach too!”

  Not even all that activity would let Asbjorn forget about Sean and the warmth of what they’d had and what he had caused them to lose. Getting dressed for karate, he noted his black belt – the one that used to be Sean’s – still bore the other man’s musky, almost herbal fragrance with a warm undertone of sandalwood. According to an ancient tradition, belts were never washed. It used to be everyone started with a white belt. The white belt would become soiled over time, becoming black. Yet as the outside fabric wore away, the inner, white fibers shone through and thus, a black belt became white again.

  Asbjorn resolved to never bring Sean’s black belt even close to water. His belt and the triskelion necklace given to him for Christmas was all he had of the sweet, unattainable man.

  “Otagai ni rei!” He greeted his students, same as always.

  “Otagai shimasu!” They greeted him back, bowing, as always.

  Yet not all was as it had been. He taught class as if by rote. The words and commands rose from his subconscious and exited through his lips. His student’s eyes were trained on him, expectant. They wanted the mysteries of karate to be revealed to them, and he sighed, dredged what energy he could from the bottom of his being, and just handed it over.

  Later on, there was another imposition on his time and energy level.

  “Asbjorn, I have a meeting with my advisor this afternoon. Would you watch Stella, please?” Nell’s wheaten eyes shone from under her bangs. She didn’t smile, gauging his reaction.

  He loved Nell. Surely a few hours with Stella wouldn’t knock his world out of its orbit. He nodded, resigned to chasing a crawling, cruising baby all around the apartment, reading books to her, building block towers only to have her knock them down amid squeals of glee. When he was with Stella, his hands were too full and his mind too preoccupied – he had no time, no energy to ponder how to best end his worthless life. He even wondered if Nell and Dud were counting on just that.

  “YES. YOU’RE COMING if we have to drag you.” Don stood over the sofa where Sean had taken to camping out with his interminable books and assignments.

  The sofa smelled good. Familiar. He didn’t want to leave the safety of the house, and he didn’t care to chance meeting the owner of that earthy, musky scent. He knew Asbjorn would turn his back to him, and Sean could not bear that.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I have work to do.” His brown eyes flashed, stubborn and unyielding.

  “Adrian?” Don looked at his partner, eyebrow upraised.

  “Yeah. He’s coming.”

  “Bullshit. I’m not.”

  Don grasped Sean’s ankles and held them together while Adrian wrapped three secure layers of duct tape around them.

  “Hey! You guys, stop this! This is fucking ridiculous!”

  “You camping out in Asbjorn’s spot and skipping classes and blowing off Aikido is fucking ridiculous.” Despite the unusual expletive, Don’s voice was calm, almost gentle – unlike his actions. He lifted Sean’s struggling body, clamped his arms to his waist, and took special care to keep his nose away from Sean’s flailing head.

  “Can’t believe you’d do this!” Sean almost wailed, his eyes trying to connect with Adrian’s in an accusing glare as the psychologist wrapped Sean in an old army blanket.

  He fastened the thick fabric with more duct tape, then nodded. “Don. Is the car warmed up?”

  “Yeah. I’ll take Sean while you get his boots and his jacket.”

  They dumped Sean on the rear bench of Don’s SUV and buckled him in, further limiting his potential for causing chaos.

  “Got booze?”

  “Check.”

  “Gatorade?”

  “Cooler in the trunk.”

  “First aid?”

  “Won’t need any.”

  Don pulled out of the garage, heading down to the Warehouse where he’d challenge all to share his beer and his blood.

  ASBJORN HAD ALREADY decided that Nell and Dud were trying to work him to death. He fully expected another Saturday night of watching Stella, and he was resigned to his fate. In fact, he was looking forward to the solitude of the quiet apartment and the sleeping baby, away from Nell’s pity and Dud’s poorly hidden concern, when Nell announced there was a party at the Warehouse and he was coming along.

  “Nah,” Asbjorn protested. “I can stay and watch her. You guys go ahead.”

  Dud punched him in the shoulder. “Getting soft?” He grinned.

  “No, asshole. Just don’t feel like seeing people.”

  “Ken’ll be there.”

  Ken.

  Asbjorn sighed. Ken was always a good fight. He’d give him shit over hibernating and not making it to sword class, but seeing him would be worth it. He’d be remiss to deprive his newest teacher and partner in crime of the opportunity to kick his butt. It might even knock something loose and get him out of this ungodly funk.

  “Okay. I’ll come, but that’s not to say I’ll do more than one fight.”

  ASBJORN WAS IN THE bathroom, with the door barely closed, when he overheard Nell hiss at Dud. “If that asshole shows up, I’ll do him some real damage. And if those insensitive jerks he lives with show up too, I’ll do them double. Oh my fucking God, having a threesome and having Bjorn walk in on them. What the hell were they thinking?”

  “Maybe we can share,” he said. “You take one, I’ll take the other. No reason why you should have all the fun.”

  Asbjorn reentered the living room, but the two looked like nothing was said in his absence. Nell might have made her opinion of the situation entirely clear, but Dud hadn’t said much. His flippant answer showed that he didn’t exactly disagree; he just had no need to verbalize his wrath. Asbjorn bit his lip. His friends were after Sean now. It was sweet, in its own idiotic way, but he didn’t quite know how to feel about that.

  CHAPTER 12

  Nell drove with Dud riding shotgun and Asbjorn sitting in the back. They wound their way through the desolate and graffiti-ridden streets of Roxbury, until Nell pulled up to the garage door of a familiar warehouse. It was the only building on the block with security lighting and no spray tags on the walls. When she honked, Asbjorn knew that somebody, probably Mark, would see them on the security monitor. The garage door rolled up with not so much as a creak, and Nell pulled in and parked in her usual spot.

  As Asbjorn got out and grabbed an armload of supplies, he looked around. Most of the crowd was already there, with Mark meeting his guests and explaining the rules to two adventurous newcomers: “There are no rules, guys. No undeclared weapons, no permanent injuries. Follow the Golden Rule: don’t do to your opponent what you’re not willing to accept from them. And remember, some of the younger guys are still learning. Use good judgment.” He gave them a flat cop stare, impassionate and cold. “You’re guests here. If you don’t screw up, you might be invited again.”

&nbs
p; A car horn sounded, the garage door rolled up, and Don’s black Land Rover slid into its accustomed place. Instead of greeting the new arrivals, Nell remained impassive. Asbjorn recalled the echoes of her angry words and her intent to exact revenge of his behalf. He didn’t want Sean to get beat up by his friends just because Sean moved on. Sure it hurt, but Asbjorn was not a nice man. His sunshine deserved better.

  He retreated into the shadows. The sweat of those who were resting after their early fights permeated the air along with the spice of booze and the chemical fruitiness of sports drinks. Asbjorn drew a deep breath in an effort to relax. This was a safe place, a friendly place. This was where Tiger and Nell had begun fighting with people from other martial arts schools. Someone bought the place, using his business as a façade. He’d been too young to understand the mechanics of it all. Even now he only knew that this was a home away from home, a space where he was always welcome.

  People were taught to leave their grievances at the door. They were all here to train and learn from one another.

  Asbjorn saw the familiar, almost silver hair gleam in the dim light and thought that maybe he better warn Don. And Adrian too. Nell shouldn’t pollute the warrior atmosphere with petty things.

  He was about to walk over and talk to Don and Adrian when one of them opened the rear passenger door. Don reached in. “Ow, you fucker, save it for later!” Don’s voice was irritated. Curious heads turned to see – Don Maxim wasn’t a man who was known to ever lose his cool.

  Asbjorn frowned as he saw him bend forward and grasp a flailing object in the backseat while Adrian pushed from the other side. It fell out and rolled about on the concrete. A mummy made of jeans, an old army blanket, and duct tape writhed about. Its – his – hair gleamed like burnished gold in the lit parking area and his foul curses echoed through the cavernous space.