Vern smiled. “Ready when you are.” He’d already dressed in the tiny, silver shorts underneath his sweatpants. They hugged his ass unlike anything he’d ever worn before. They made him feel like his ass was the size of two watermelons, but his newest friend, Glitter, told him it looked sexy and made all the customers want to fuck him. Glitter was a bit crazy, but his stage name was perfect since he used his namesake liberally. He didn’t trust others, though. He wouldn’t tell Vern his real name, but then again, he was using Vick all the time. A fair enough trade.
They hadn’t decided on Vern’s stage name. He’d only worked two shifts, but Glitter said he danced well enough, and he’d help figure out the rest.
He fingered Randy’s chess piece. Everything in the last few days had happened so fast. Vern’s head was spinning half the time. But he had more control over his life than ever before. He tried to squash the guilt he had for running out on Randy. There hadn’t been anything he could have done.
They had been talking and laughing. They’d had sex, and it had been great. Randy had promised he wouldn’t try and convince Vern to go with him, but maybe they could see each other again whenever he came back. Vern wanted to agree, but he hadn’t known where he’d be or how Randy could get in touch with him.
Randy had seemed fine with it—fine with everything. Then he had gone to the bathroom. After an unusually long time, Vern checked on him. Randy had been lying prone on the floor. A rubber tube beside him. A spoon. A lighter. And a little empty bag. Right next to Randy’s dead body on the dirty linoleum.
His dark knight. Randy couldn’t help Vern, though. Randy couldn’t even save himself. If Vern truly wanted to be saved, he had to be the one to do it. Maybe everyone could only look after themselves. He’d made a note about it in his journal. He wanted to think about it more later.
Daniel pulled jeans on under his towel then dropped it on his bed. When he stretched to pull his shirt on over his head, the muscles in his back bunched up. If Vern hadn’t already known he was gay, watching his roommate would have totally given it away. Physically, every bronzed bit of him appeared so hot, but his nice behavior made him truly beautiful. Vern appreciated both, but he only wanted the man as a friend. He had no interest in a deeper relationship. Not sexual, not emotional—only friends. He tucked the chess piece under his pillow, pulled his hoodie on, then stuffed his feet into his old, beat up sneakers. He had a pair of shiny, new high-tops that matched his shorts in his locker at Abaddon for wearing on stage.
“What’s up, Vick? You’re quiet.” Daniel grabbed the towel and rubbed it over his head.
“Uh...I have some friends. They’re coming to the club. Tonight.”
“You have friends?” Daniel smiled his megawatt, million-dollar, poster-boy smile that should have been on magazines and billboards.
“Funny. But yeah, Sean, from back home.” Vern flinched a bit.
“Maybe your name should be Country Boy.”
“Oh, fuck no. Come on.”
Daniel chuckled and grabbed his keys off the dresser. “Ahh...don’t sweat it, Country Boy. I won’t tell anyone your secret.”
“Whatever.”
“I’ll let your friends in without a cover, too. I’m allowed a few free passes. For you.” He pointed at Vern. “I’ll use ‘em.” He winked and headed out the door.
Vern followed him, shaking his head. He’d never been totally comfortable around the jock-type category, where Daniel definitely fell, but he was also very different. He laughed and joked and teased Vern, right along with everyone else. He treated Vern the same as the others, which meant an awful lot to Vern.
Everyone at Abaddon accepted him, unlike anything he’d ever had in his life before. The people at the club took him in and made him a part of their family in a way he still didn’t get. He’d never had the same kind of compassion at home growing up. He liked his life and his friends a lot. His other roommates were as great as Daniel, maybe even better because they shared the stage and could relate to him better. Tony Warner, stage name Tiger, was bigger than most of the others. He’d been working out with Daniel lately and bulking up even more. And he conquered the pole like none of the others, and he’d shown Vern some moves, though Vern came nowhere near their level. Getting on the pole wouldn’t be happening for him any time soon, not that it mattered. All Vern needed was the stage.
His other roommate, Carl Taylor, had red hair which gave him his stage name, Big Red. His chest and leg hair were a lighter red than his dark-red head of hair and thick beard. He laughed a lot and played practical jokes. He had some great moves, too, and had taught Vern how to do the twerking thing, shaking his ass like maracas to the beat of the music.
Vern was apprehensive about Sean and Tucker coming to the club. On one hand, he did want them to see how well he was doing and how great he fit in at Abaddon. On the other, he didn’t want everyone at the club to know he’d come from a little hick town up in Georgia. Sean came across as fairly cultured, but Tucker was straight from the woods. He also didn’t want them trying to talk him into going back to Georgia. He would never go.
He sighed and relaxed in the passenger seat of Daniel’s Jeep. His roommate had a cool vehicle. Silver and open and perfect for Miami. He worked a day job at a local gym a few days a week for extra money, which still left him extra time to go to auditions. Vern hoped to do something similar. Only not at a gym. He’d be better suited at a library, bookstore, or used video game store. In the meantime, dancing in the club was fun.
It would be nice to visit with Sean, even if he made him nervous. They’d come so far to find him. He’d assumed he was alone in the world and thought he had to be alone. This changed things—astonished him. His world had grown unexpectedly to include old friends he didn’t know he had along with his new club family. Maybe he’d been wrong about being alone?
SEVENTEEN
Teague
Teague sat cross-legged on the hood of a sleek, black sedan parked in front of Abaddon. He had mixed emotions about his Vern dancing, half-naked, in front of all those lecherous men. Vern wasn’t seeing any of them. Not dating them, not fucking them. But he still paraded his ass in front of them. The dancing also gave Vern a safe place to live and kept him out of other men’s beds. Unless Teague could take Vern into his own home, he couldn’t say much—couldn’t say anything. And he wasn’t free to do that, like it or not.
Vern walked outside the club with two men. He spoke to them like friends, and one of them, the short blond one, seemed familiar and bothered Teague. He slid down the hood of the car and made his way closer to the door, staying in the shadows, but stayed in his Manna form.
Teague lit a cigarette and stared at the blond. He was about the same age as Vern. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, not very different than how Vern dressed. Teague had a second to be thankful Vern was indeed dressed and not wearing the skimpy shorts he danced in before he furrowed his brow and ground his teeth. He knew that kid.
Seeing him next to Vern brought it back. He had been Vern’s one friend back in Georgia. What was he doing in Miami? And who was the bigger redhead with them? And why did it put Teague’s instincts on full alert?
Before Teague figured it out, three figures stepped out of the shadows.
How had he missed them?
They grabbed Vern. Anger boiled through Teague’s blood. How dare they touch Vern?
Vern’s friend jumped forward, kicking one of them in the knee, and when another one of the attackers lunged at him, the redhead jumped in front, punching the guy in the face. It looked like Vern’s friends had it under control—until they didn’t.
Three more guys came around the building, running toward them. All the attackers wore black pants and shirts with black ski masks or bandanas over their faces. They outnumbered Vern and his friends.
The one holding Vern pulled his arm and tried to drag him off. Whatever was going on, they clearly wanted to take Vern. Fuck no—not going to happen. Vern’s friends fought, but they couldn’t sto
p it.
Teague could let it happen. He should let it happen. Getting involved was a mistake, but this time he couldn’t help it. His brain said stop, but his legs disobediently carried him forward.
He could not stand back and watch while one more fucking bad thing happened to his Vern. Something inside him seized his heart like icy fingers. It was time for action and damn the consequences.
Vern pulled away and shoved the guy off of him, but another of the men in black punched him in the jaw. Vern spun, and the first guy grabbed him again.
Teague flicked his cigarette before jumping forward with an uncontrollable roar. He smashed his foot into the back of a leg, and the man fell to the ground. He punched another and spun, landing a kick. Each human he hit went down as if hit with an iron bar. He might as well have. No human could match his strength.
The uninjured men grabbed their fallen friends and made a quick getaway. Teague let them go. He needed to make sure Vern wasn’t hurt.
Vern dropped to the ground. Teague had to slowly pry his fingers away from his injured face. “Are you okay?” He smelled funny, different...etheric.
“No. No. My face. Hurts.”
The blond boy stepped forward. “Don’t talk. We’ll get you some ice. I got jumped the other day. Trust me. Ice helps.”
Vern nodded and covered his face again, but not before Teague saw the tears. His heart clenched. “I’ll take you home.” He helped Vern up, but the other two men crowded him.
“Who are you?” the redhead asked.
“I could ask you the same.” He pointed at the blond. “You, I recognize.” He leered at the redhead. “You, I don’t.”
Vern tugged at the sleeve of Teague’s t-shirt. “Sean. Tucker” He pointed at them.
Sean, the blond, stuck his hand out. “I went to school with Vern. We’re friends. This is my boyfriend, Tucker.”
Teague didn’t shake his hand. He wrapped his arm around Vern.
“So, who are you?” Tucker asked again.
Vern mumbled, trying to answer, but Teague wouldn’t let him speak. “You can call me Teague. I’m...I’m a friend. Vern’s friend.” It wasn’t exactly the truth but also wasn’t a lie, and it didn’t come close to explaining what Vern meant to him.
Vern looked up and pushed his body into Teague’s side. Teague wanted to protect him, even from his friends. Particularly, from Sean. Something wasn’t right about him. He hadn’t noticed before, but this close he could smell it. His scent left an etheric tang in the back of his mouth. Some kind of angelic power flowed through Sean.
“We can take Vern home,” Sean said, again reaching out with his hand.
“Oh.” Teague realized Sean wanted to take Vern from him, not shake his hand. “No. I’m taking him home.” No way on Manna or the twin dimensions would he ever let Vern go with Sean or any angel. If he did, he’d be in a world of hurt. His father expected him to keep Vern safe and under Exilum control. Whatever was going on with the weird, angelic kid gave him an excuse for stepping in. He had to keep them separated, now that he knew. Still, he hoped he didn’t have to kill Vern’s friend, but letting him go with Sean? No way. He pulled Vern closer. He’d never be faulted from keeping Vern from Osestra.
“You are not fighting over me,” Vern growled between his clenched teeth.
All four of them stared at each other for two long heartbeats. It sounded more like wings beating to Teague.
“Isn’t this special? A group meeting?” Zepher’s voice interrupted their argument, making Teague cringe. Maybe it had been wings, but not feathered ones.
“What the hell?” Tucker pointed at Zepher as he landed beside them in his demonic form.
His ears on the top of his leathery head pricked forward, and his bat-like wings tucked behind him. He stepped closer into the light, clawed feet scratching at the pebbles strewn across the pavement. “I guess you could call it hell. I prefer Exilum. And it’s where, not what.”
“Smartass.” Teague tucked Vern in a little bit closer. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Could ask you the same thing, brother.” Zepher’s black body glimmered like oil under the lights from the parking lot.
“Stop right there.” Tucker stepped in front of Sean. He had no clue what he stood up to. Zepher could snap him in two and eat his guts like candy before he had any clue what had happened.
Zepher hissed. “I’ll do what I want. Kill you all. Torture.” He pointed at Vern. “You. Little thing. You’re like a fish. Slippery. In and out of trouble, but it doesn’t even matter. I can still catch you.”
“Enough,” Teague warned him with a low rumble in his voice.
“Oh, you.” Zepher threw his head back and laughed. “You’re in more trouble than these three combined.” He waved a clawed hand.
Vern stepped away from Teague’s protective embrace. Teague reached out to pull him back, but he brushed Teague off. “It’s you. It’s been you all along. I felt it. The second you...what? Landed? You flew in? I could feel the change in the air with every beat of your evil wings.”
“What are you going on about?” Zepher sneered.
“You did it. All of it. I sensed your presence every time something bad happened, but I didn’t know it—wasn’t...aware. Until now.”
Sean grabbed Vern’s arm. “What are you saying?”
Vern turned back to him, but only for a second as if hesitant to turn his back on Zepher—a smart move. “This...this thing!” He flicked his hand out.
“Zepher. My name is Zepher.”
“Zepher.” His name sounded evil on Vern’s tongue. “You caused every damned thing in my life t-to turn.” Vern nodded as if deciding on his words. “To turn bad.” He took a brave step forward, and Teague moved in closer. He couldn’t let Vern get so close—so unprotected.
“You are too fuckin’ smart for your own good, little fishy.” Zepher rolled his eyes.
“You killed Randy, too. Didn’t you? Or made him kill himself. Made him shoot up.”
“Now, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never did anything to your trucker boyfriend. I didn’t have to.”
“Bullshit.”
Teague had never seen Vern so angry.
“He didn’t do drugs. There were no drugs. I searched his fuckin’ truck. It was you!”
“Hey.” Teague grabbed Vern around the waist, hauling him back. “Don’t get too close. He bites.”
Zepher laughed. “Nope. I didn’t have to do anything to him. I don’t have to do anything to you. Any of you. You’ve done it to yourselves. I’m here to sit back and watch the show.” He leered at Vern.
“You lie.”
Vern tried to pull away from Teague, but this time he didn’t let Vern go. Emotions radiated off of him, and he didn’t want him making a mistake he couldn’t live through. Although, Vern had proved clever, putting it all together so quickly. And it made Teague so damn proud of him for confronting Zepher. Most humans ran screaming the rare times they appeared in demonic form. But not Vern or his friends. They stood up to the fucker.
“Let me go, Teague. Or are you like him?”
Teague relaxed his grip, and Vern squirmed free.
“Yeah. I’m sure you are.” Vern glared at Teague. “You all are. What do you fucking want from me?”
Zepher laughed and jumped into the air. His wings beat furiously, pushing the hot night air against them. Dirt and pebbles from the ground pelted against their legs as he lifted off. Teague let him go, reaching out for Vern instead.
“No. I trust you least of all.” He shoved at Teague’s chest.
“Me? But—”
“You’ve been there, too. What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Vern took two tentative steps backward.
“I couldn’t do anything. It was the only way to help you. I did my best to protect you by not getting involved.”
Vern scowled and shook his head. His dark hair fell in his eyes. He didn’t have his glasses on. That was all wron
g. Teague needed to find Vern’s glasses.
“That’s almost as bad. Teague? That’s your name?”
“Yeah, I’m Teague.” He scanned the ground for the glasses but didn’t find them. “Vern—”
“Vick. My name is Vick. You should know, I told you before.”
“You did. Vick...listen...” He held up his hand, begging for a moment.
“No. You told me you were a demon. It’s my fault. I didn’t want to believe you.” He took another step backward. “So everything in my life...none of it was...life. It was all him.”
“No, not all.”
Zepher dropped down behind Vern, and Teague crouched low, prepared to leap to Vern’s defense. He growled, “The asshole had a lot of influence, despite my warnings to stay away.”
Zepher snarled in return. “Ah! You shim phäiskghaa! And you're stupid, too. You know there's a plan for this one.” He put his hands on Vern’s shoulders, but Vern jumped away before Teague had to do anything.
“What did he call you?” Sean asked, drawing Teague’s attention.
“Phäiskghaa. It means goat leg,” Teague answered.
Vern turned and stared Zepher down. “What the fuck is that? Some kind of weird insult?”
Drool dripped from Zepher’s ugly mug, and he wiped it with his forearm. He ignored Vern and stared at Teague. “You've jeopardized everything, and all I've done is try to have your back. Keep you from making a stupid, stupid mistake. And this is that mistake. The others...” He shook his head. “They are not going to understand this.”
Vern looked from side to side. He stood between the two of them, and he looked utterly disgusted. He flipped them both the bird. “Fuck y’all. I don’t care about your others. I don’t care about you.” He pivoted and pointed first at Zepher and then at Teague. “I don’t care. I’ve had to figure all of this out. By my fucking self! I’m the one living this nightmare. I like where I’m at and where I’m going. Y’all leave me the fuck alone. Fucking stop it all.” Vern stomped, and energy flew out from where his foot made contact with the pavement. It shook the ground like an earthquake.
Demon or Angel (Age of Exilum Book 1) Page 14
